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by Christopher Nicole


  'Here is my hand upon it.'

  'Bah,' Galante said. 'Dealing with these dogs. ‘I’d as soon hang them anyway.'

  'Mademoiselle Galante is in the forest immediately behind the town, monsieur,' Edward said. 'At least, I left her there. Her gown was torn, and so she asked me to procure a fresh one before she would return here. I am sure she is waiting with much impatience. And now, gentlemen, we shall bid you farewell.'

  Belain gave a stiff bow. 'Perhaps we shall meet again, Edward. If the Spaniards leave you a head on your shoulders. Adieu.'

  He led them along the beach at the double. Yeats would have stopped to pick up what gear they could carry, but Edward would not give them time for this. He did not trust the Frenchmen, and he wanted to be away from the beach when the Dons arrived.

  'But where will we go?’ Philip asked.

  'Mount Misery for a start,' Edward said. 'And the Windward. From Mount Misery we will be able to see what is happening, and on Windward we may well he safe until the Dons have departed.'

  'And then what, Mr Warner?’ Creevey, the half-wit, asking the one question he dreaded most.

  'Why, then we shall build ourselves a new town,' Edward said, with all the confidence he could muster. 'And plant ourselves a new crop. This is all my father and I, and Ashton, and Berwicke, and Hilton did when first we landed. And then we had the Caribs to worry about.'

  'And when the Dons come back again?’ Yeats panted.

  ‘I doubt they will. They were but offended by the sight of the Sieur de Cahusac's fleet. We order things with more modesty, and so have remained untroubled these five years.'

  And soon after this exchange they ran out of breath, which was all to the good. Edward could not help but wonder what would happen when the Irishmen remembered that there was no longer any outside force to fear, saving the Spanish, which would equally affect them and their masters. Against seventeen men he could pit himself, Philip and Yarico, and the three other Carib women. Presumably they would follow the lead of their princess.

  They climbed, through the forest, listening to the dying sounds of pandemonium from the beach. The jungle grew thicker, but Yarico knew more ways through it than even Edward, and they made good time, stopping only to slake their thirst from the various mountain streams which cascaded down from the summit of old Misery. And by the middle of the afternoon they had reached the very place, just above the tree line, where Edward had been the previous night with Aline. A place of blessed memory, but of strange memory, too. He could hardly believe that it had happened, that he had committed rape and that the girl had laughed. He had lied to Belain and her father, about her physical well-being. To them she was no doubt as badly hurt as if he had cut her face with a razor. But she had laughed. Aline Galante, a face, and a body, and a mind, and above all, a laugh, to remember. And what, he wondered, would she remember about Edward Warner, the white Indian? He thought she would forgive the lie, even if her father was unlikely to. She might even honour that memory of him, for risking so much to save his people.

  The Irish had collapsed in exhaustion, and Philip was also sitting down, the boy Tom beside him. Yarico stood at the edge of the forest, gazing at them, her face expressionless. Edward wondered what she thought of it all. In the five years since the English had first landed her life had gone through too many changes. And now she was watching him.

  He climbed a few feet higher up the mountain, and found himself somewhere to sit. From here he looked down on the leeward beach no less than the windward; back there was utter confusion, still; men running back and forth, the ships already breaking out their sails, although yet at anchor and clearly not possessing their full complements, and muskets being fired, into the air, he presumed; he could see the puffs of black smoke. It almost suggested a mutiny. Belain would have his hands full. But more likely they were endeavouring to recall the search parties which had been seeking Aline, now that she would have rejoined them.

  It was time to forget the French; Nevis held more promise of catastrophe. From Iris vantage point the island was more than ten miles away, and yet he could see the column of smoke rising from the shore. He wondered if the smoke rising from the destroyed Carib village had looked like that, say from Antigua. But from this distance, too, he could also make out the Spanish fleet, apparently still at anchor, but endless ships dotted all over the bay. There was a deep game being played here. The Spanish admiral was clearly under orders to destroy all foreign settlements in the Leewards, but he had no intention of engaging the French fleet if he could avoid it, even with a superiority of five to one. He was giving Cahusac and Belain every possible opportunity to escape, was no doubt watching them through his glass with as much anxiety as Edward was watching him.

  Yarico sat beside him. 'Ed-ward,' she said. 'Yarico. Philip. War-nah.' She laughed.

  'Just as we began. With less, maybe.'

  'War-nah,' she said again. 'Ed-ward War-nah. Philip War-nah. Yarico War-nah.' She waved her arms. 'All War-nah.' ‘If we live that long, sweetheart, to be sure.' 'Ed-ward....' she looked down at her gown. ‘I take off?' 'No.'

  'Ed-ward....'

  "You don't seem to realize that you're all of a stepmother to me, now.'

  War-nah speak to me of this,' she said. ‘I mother, you son, you obey. I take off dress, and you come with me in forest.' 'No.'

  She frowned. ‘I beat you, Ed-ward.’

  He caught her wrist. 'You're a funny child, Yarico. You must try to understand. You and me, that is over now. When my father returns, I doubt not that he shall make you his wife. Before the priest. Then indeed you will be my stepmother. And then, if you like, you may beat me.'

  She pouted. 'No,' she said. 'They say...' she tossed her head at the Irish, 'War-nah not marry Yarico. Yarico got brown skin.'

  The colour of your skin doesn't matter to Tom Warner,' Edward said. 'You're the mother of his son, just as Rebecca was the mother of Philip and me. And Sarah. By our law, our religion, a man may only have one wife. But now that Rebecca is dead, why, he may marry whomever he chooses. And he has chosen you, Yarico. That will be a great day. You will be Mistress Warner. You will be part ruler of this island.'

  She did not look mollified. ‘Yarico already ruler of this island. Yarico last of Tegramond's people.'

  He hesitated, but decided against telling her that Wapisiane had survived. That secret he would have to take with him to his grave, as it came back to haunt him in the small hours of the night. 'Aye,' he said. 'But then you’ll be the first of Warner's people as well. Come. They've rested long enough.'

  Hilton's house remained as they had left it, on that unforgettable night five weeks in the past. The roof timbers lay waiting to be set in place, and the thick wooden walls rose out of the rocks of the bluff he had selected like the bones of some gigantic skeleton. A skeleton with but a single tooth, for the cannon still pointed aimlessly seaward.

  'You do not think they will look for us over here?' Yeats asked.

  'Not this night, at any rate,' Edward said. 'And here at least there is food and wine.' For no one had been to Windward since Tony's departure, and the carefully constructed cellar containing the salted beef and the barrels remained unopened. 'Tomorrow, Yarico, you must show us how to gather our food from the forest itself, which berries are edible and which poisonous. And we must get Tony's fish-nets working again as well. We shall do all right over here; the forest is thickest, and there are also caves in which we can take refuge, so the Dons will not find it easy to pin us down. But none the less we shall take care. This night we shall all sleep sound; as from tomorrow we shall post guards.'

  They gazed at him, reminiscent of a flock of sheep. For the moment they were too frightened and too tired to do more than think of their immediate needs. And too thirsty. Their eyes kept straying to the house.

  'Aye, help yourselves,' Edward said, and with a whoop they ran for the trapdoor.

  ‘Is that wise?' Philip muttered.

  'The sooner it is consumed the better. And it
will give us time to think. It may not have occurred to you, brother, but we do not possess a weapon between us save our knives, and we are outnumbered ten to one by our servants.'

  'Yarico will show us how to make weapons of wood, as the Caribs do,' Philip said. 'Yarico?’

  Yarico continued cuddling little Tom, who was already asleep.

  'She's preparing to sulk,' Edward said.

  'A strange woman,' Philip said. 'How Father can ever... but what has she to sulk over now?’

  Hardly stranger than you, Edward thought. At fourteen I'd have found her attractive enough; I did. 'Who can understand the mind of a woman,' he said with suitable pompousness. 'And you'd do best not to criticize Father. He is all the hope of survival we have at this moment.'

  Yarico pointed. 'Canoe come.'

  'Eh?' Edward scrambled to his feet, peered into the darkening sky. 'By God.'

  For now that it occurred to him to look, the tiny bark could be seen cautiously negotiating the surf.

  ‘Indians, you think?' Philip whispered. 'Shall I call the men?’

  Already sounds of song came from the house.

  'Not a war party, that's certain,' Edward said. ‘It is too small a vessel. And there cannot be more than four people in it.' He knelt beside Yarico. 'What do you make of it?"

  Again the disinterested shrug of her shoulders.

  'Yarico’ he said. ‘In a moment you are going to make me angry. And it would not be good for a son to spank his own stepmother’

  Her eyes gloomed around him. 'Spank?'

  He seized her shoulder, pulled her body towards him, and struck her smartly on the left buttock. 'Like that. Many more like that.'

  'Ed-ward,' she exclaimed in delight. "We go in forest, for spank?’

  'Oh, for Christ's sake’ he shouted. 'All right. We go into the forest for spank. Just tell me what you can about that canoe.'

  She released Tom and stood up. It was quite dark by now, the boat no more than a silhouette on the suddenly still evening. 'White people’

  'White people? But... ‘

  Yarico tossed her head 'Hil-ton’

  'Tony? There's a gift from Heaven. Come on, Philip... ‘

  'Not Hil-ton’ Yarico said. 'Hil-ton woman’

  'By God’ He ran down the beach, sand flying from his feet, Philip beside him. Yarico and Little Tom followed more slowly. 'Susan?" he shouted. 'Susan, is that really you?"

  The canoe came into the shallows. It was paddled by O'Reilly in the stern and Connor in the bow; amidships sat Susan Hilton and Margaret Plummer, the wife of one of the colonists who had volunteered to accompany Hilton to Nevis, a small, quiet woman of about thirty, presently looking as if she had seen a ghost.

  But Edward had eyes only for Susan; he bounded into the water to help her, and to look at her, too, for her belly was beginning to swell.

  'Edward?' she whispered. 'Oh, Edward. I had not thought to see ye over on Windward’

  He smiled. 'Maybe you thought I'd be hung by now. It's not so easy to dispose of a Warner’

  She put up her hand to stroke his chin. 'And ye've a beard, all but. Ye'd naught but a little down, six weeks ago’

  'So maybe you'll grant that I'm a man, at last. And you are well?’

  'Well?' she shivered, and he set her on the sand. ‘Ye'll know the Dons have taken Nevis, Ted, lad?" O'Reilly demanded.

  'We saw them,' Edward said. 'But I'll confess I had no idea any of you remained there. You told me naught of your plans before you left, remember?'

  'Aye. Well....' he nodded to Connor, and between them they pulled the canoe clear of the water. 'The business was done in haste.'

  'He's dead,' Margaret Plummer muttered. 'Dead. Do you think he's dead, Paddy?'

  O'Reilly scratched his head. 'Well, he'd be dead by now, Mrs Plummer, that he would.'

  'Oh, aye, Mrs Plummer,' Connor agreed. 'He'd be dead by now. Is that our boys we hear over there, Ted?'

  'You can join them in a minute, Brian. Tell me what happened on Nevis. How many of you were left there?'

  Susan led the way up the beach, still moving with all the vigour he remembered, despite her handicap. 'Just a dozen, Edward. It was Tony's decision. He knew we could not make a go of the colony without more people, and he feared to be dispossessed when your Father comes back. We held a conference, and decided it was best for him to return home and obtain the grant of Nevis, before Ashton could spread lying tales about him.'

  'But he left you behind.'

  ‘I am pregnant, as he then knew. And I was in good hands. We anticipated nothing from the Dons. Especially after the French left us alone. 'Tis what your father did, Edward. Successfully’

  'He screamed,' Margaret Plummer whispered. ‘I heard him scream. Christ I can still hear him scream.'

  'What happened?' Edward asked again.

  'Took by surprise we were, Ted, lad.' O'Reilly stopped beneath the house and gazed up at it, hands on hips. 'Sure, and 'tis good to see the old place again’

  Susan sank to the sand beneath the outcrop. 'Maybe we'll get a roof on it at last, Paddy.'

  Edward looked from one to the other. No mistress and servant, here. But then, had they not been members of that first shipload, so long ago? 'You were telling me of the Spaniards.'

  'Well, we saw the ships, Ted, lad,' Connor said. 'But it never occurred to us they'd pay attention to Nevis. When suddenly they pulled aside and opened up. We'd only a few huts on the shore, and these they scattered with their first balls. But then they landed. Must have been near a thousand of the devils, all crimson and silver. A pretty sight.'

  'A pretty sight,' O'Reilly agreed. 'A column of man-eaters, coming ashore like if they was on parade.'

  'He would go back,' Margaret Plummer whispered. She had dropped to her knees beside Susan. 'He would go back.'

  'Aye, and he took his friends with him,' Connor said. 'Against our advice, Ted. But there was gear on the beach, and the Spaniards had camped upwind of where we'd been. Two of us had been killed in the bombardment, it had been that sudden. Harry Plummer took Billy Smith and his brother, and the other two girls back to see what they could pilfer. They'd not have us along, ye understand. Wild Irishmen who'd make a noise, they said. Christ Almighty. And we've forgotten more about that kind of thing than they'll ever learn. Not that they'll learn anything now.'

  'The Dons caught them?’

  'We watched from the hill top. There was firing, and Billy Smith fell. Maybe he was killed. He was that lucky. They got the girls, and Harry and Joe Smith as well.'

  They cut off his feet,' Margaret Plummer said tonelessly. 'Just cut them off at the ankles, and left him there. And his wrists. They cut off his hands at the wrists, and smeared the stumps with honey, and left him on the beach, to the sandflies.'

  Edward stared at O'Reilly in horror.

  'Fact, Ted. 'Tis what they have threatened to do to every interloper they find in these waters.'

  'He screamed,' Margaret said. 'And screamed, and

  screamed. I asked Paddy to go down and put a bullet in him, but he wouldn't.'

  They'd have got me too,' O'Reilly objected. 'Long before I could have got close enough to hit him right. But I'll admit it was a terrible sound.'

  'And the women? What happened to the girls?’

  Connor grinned. 'Well, Ted, they was taken too, like we said. They screamed too.'

  'But afterwards?' Edward demanded. 'What about afterwards?'

  'Now, that we don't know, Ted, lad,' O'Reilly said. ‘You left them?"

  There was nothing we could do,' Susan suddenly shouted. ‘What, two men, and two women, one of them pregnant? There was nothing we could do.'

  'So you came here.'

  'Man, it takes a lot of guts to paddle a canoe across that strait,' O'Reilly said. 'More than once I figured we was for it.'

  'Aye,' Edward said. ‘It takes a lot of guts. Your friends are over there, Paddy. And they've found a couple of bottles. Mrs Plummer, Yarico is with us. She'll look after you.'
r />   They hesitated, and walked up the sand. Susan started to follow them, and then checked. He could not see her face properly, in the darkness.

  ‘Ye'd have done the same, Edward.'

  'Maybe.' Edward knelt beside the canoe. Three muskets, but less than twenty ball and scarce sufficient powder for two discharges. Two swords, and a pistol without any charge at all. Oh, they had left in a hurry, all right.

  'Maybe? Ye'd not fight at Sandy Point.'

  'My own people, Susan? No, I'd not fight on those terms.'

  'And that sticks in your craw?"

  That you'd not say goodbye. Neither you nor Tony. Nor Paddy O'Reilly, nor any of the others.'

  'Maybe we thought ye'd let us down. Oh, for Christ's sake.' Her shoulders rose and fell. ‘I'm sorry it turned out that way, Ted. I still dream about ye. But it'll not do me much good now, will it?"

  'And the boy?’

  'His name will be Hilton.'

  He took her elbow and they walked up the beach behind the others. 'That's fair enough. You expect Tony back?" 'He's my husband.'

  'Well, you'd best pray he comes soon. You'd not figured the Dons will be here next?"

  'They're on their way now, Edward,' Aline Galante said, from the bushes close by the beach,

  'For Christ's sake,' Susan said.

  'Aline?' Edward peered into the gloom. 'What in the name of God....'

  ‘I followed you through the forest,' Aline explained. 'But when it got dark I lost you. And then I heard your people singing.'

  'She is French,' Susan said in wonderment.

  ‘I wonder what she is,' Edward said. 'Aline, did you not hear the shots and the shouts of the men searching for you?'

  'Oh, yes,' she said. 'But I could not go out. My gown is torn, and my shift as well. And then I saw you take your people along the beach, and knew that you intended to remain, so I thought I had best do the same. Edward, I am so terribly hungry.'

  'But your father. ...'

  'Was like a madman on the beach. He had to be forcibly carried on board the ships. I think Uncle Pierre must have convinced him I was dead. Edward, I am also terribly thirsty.'

 

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