'But....' he scratched Ins head. 'You saw the Dons, you say?"
'Yes. They weighed anchor at sunset. The breeze is light. They will not be here before morning'
'But do you not understand? They will land and burn the town. They will come looking for us. They will hunt us like dogs. We shall have to exist in the forest, if we can exist at all. You have all but condemned yourself to death.'
'But I will have you to look after me,' she pointed out. 'And you know this forest better than any Spaniard. You must understand, Edward, that I could not possibly return alone to Papa and tell him of my situation. With you gone, he would surely have whipped me. But when he returns, after the Spaniards, why, then we will be able to explain the circumstances to him. They may even seem more natural, then.'
'Your situation?' Susan inquired with interest. 'Ah, I see that Master Warner has been up to his old tricks.'
'We are betrothed, madame.' Aline gave a contemptuous glance at Susan's belly. ‘I am assuming it is madame? But unfortunately, we cannot make our love known at this moment, because our two countries are at war, and Edward is indeed nothing better than an escaped prisoner. Yet I cannot desert him.'
'By Christ, she's a lady,' Susan said. 'Ye'll be the second lady on St Christopher, mademoiselle. Tis not an attitude we're accustomed to.'
‘Indeed?' Aline demanded. "Then I had best see about redressing the situation.'
'God give me patience,' Edward cried. 'Will the pair of you stop chattering? Aline, your father is not coming back. Belain has abandoned the colony and means to return to France. If he does ever return here, it will not be for years.'
She stared at him, frowning.
'And in addition, we are not betrothed. I raped you. Can you not understand that? I felt lust for you and anger against your people, and the pair of those emotions got the better of me. How can you talk about love?'
‘I must grow to love you, monsieur,' Aline pointed out, her voice suddenly cold. 'As it appears that now most certainly we are to be man and wife. This is a duty I have long known would be required of me, and I do promise you that I shall endeavour to perform it to the best of my ability.'
'God's truth,' Susan said.
'Of course,' Aline continued. ‘If you find it impossible to love me, then I shall be forced into a solitary existence, yet it is your duty, as a gentleman and as my husband, to honour me and respect me, at least in our outward relations. I do not know what this woman is to you, but I did understand from my uncle and even my father that you were a gentleman born, and I expected to be so treated. Which is to say that our private affairs should not be discussed in front of anyone.'
'God's truth,' Susan said again. Edward scratched his head.
'So I would be obliged, monsieur,' Aline concluded, ‘If you would either provide me with food or kill me now. That would be preferable to a slow death from starvation.'
Edward sighed. 'There is food at the house, mademoiselle. And I apologize for any rudeness I may have shown or any inconvenience I may have caused you. You are of course welcome to share in whatever I and my people have to share, until some better arrangement can be made.'
'God's truth,' Susan said a third time.
‘I’d be obliged if you'd take Mademoiselle Galante to the encampment, Susan, and see that she is fed and given something to chink. And Susan, she is in your charge. Be sure that if any insult is given her I'll break the head of the man responsible.'
'You'll do that?’ she asked.
'Aye, me. Tell Paddy O'Reilly to have a talk with Terry Yeats. Now be off with you,' 'While you do what?' ‘I've a spell of thinking to do.'
He walked away from them, and into the forest. A spell of thinking. It seemed as if all the problems in the world had suddenly closed in on him, in a matter of hours. That the Spaniards would land and destroy Sandy Point and everything else they could find, seemed certain. That they would launch themselves into a full scale hunt for any white men on the island was at least likely, and that they would torture and maim whoever they found was as certain as anything else on this earth; they did not regard heretic intruders in their world as human. That twenty odd people condemned to exist in the forest would very likely starve to death was no less likely, even with the aid of Yarico. The Indians were used to a diet of fish, and fish required the spreading of nets off the shore, hi the open and with a great deal of time at the disposal of the fishermen.
That Susan and Paddy O'Reilly and Brian Connor would prove disruptive elements was no less certain. They felt contempt for him, and Paddy O'Reilly would regard himself as a different proposition to Yeats. That Yarico would do nothing to make life easier for him was also not open to doubt. And that Aline Galante would prove a continuing problem was most certain of all. Aline Galante. Truly it could be said that one's sins came home to roost. He dared not allow himself to consider his own feelings towards the girl, beyond a compulsive admiration for the remarkable way in which she had accepted the consequences of her ghastly mistake. It occurred to him that she was probably the most remarkable woman he had ever met.
He climbed, for hours, up and then down. He found the place he was looking for, and eventually slept, on his belly, face pillowed on his hands, worn out by exhaustion and tension. And awoke soon after dawn, to peer down at Sandy Point and Great Road and the armada which had appeared there. Endless ships, all he had seen at sea yesterday morning and perhaps more, most at anchor but some still arriving and taking their positions. Boats ferried men ashore, and the beach seemed to have become a solid mass of glittering pinpoints as the first rays of the sun picked out the shining morions and breastplates, the halberd points and the sword handles. It was a splendid picture, the steel being set off by the crimson doublets and the flutter of their flags, dominant amongst which was the red and gold of Spain. There were too many to be counted, but he could estimate several hundred men on shore already. And now he could see the dogs. Would he had his own to set against them. But they had gone with Belain, and the French fleet was lost beyond the horizon.
He waited, for the puffs of smoke to arise from the town, and saw nothing. Save the men, patrolling the street, no doubt exploring the houses. The Dons had not come to destroy, yet. For others were investigating the corn fields and the tobacco plantations, talking amongst themselves, good fellows and honest husbands, who had yesterday raped two girls to death and cut off the hands and feet of their male victims because they were not considered part of the human race.
He watched a group of officers on the beach. A table had been erected, with stools, and they were spreading maps, rough sketches, apparently, for each peak had to be identified with pointing fingers. But they were planning a campaign. They meant to scour the island. Hardly more than thirty square miles in which to hide, and the dogs would soon reduce that to nothing. Already a file of men was ascending Brimstone Hill; the two cannon would be the first to go.
He got up, turned his back on the invaders, and climbed once more into the woods. Caribee. He was still more than half Indian, in his strength, the ease and the purpose with which he traversed this forest. Yet would even that strength avail him, running, before the dogs? And how could he teach the Irishmen to move as he did? Or Philip, for that matter. Or the pregnant Susan? Or Aline, used to ballrooms and topiaried garden paths?
He checked, as he approached the windward shore. The sun was high now, and sweat streamed down his body. He was afraid of them, because it had always been his nature to be afraid. He was, despite his victory, afraid of Yeats and his companions, afraid of Paddy O'Reilly, his strength and his determination, should he ever seek to use it. He was afraid of Susan's tongue as he was afraid of Yarico's anger, as he was equally afraid of Aline's trust. And Philip? He was afraid even of Philip's eventual usurpation of his rights.
But was he not, of them all, the only one without cause to fear? Did they not fear him in even greater proportion? Could he not turn his back on them, and survive? Even on Yarico, encumbered as she was with Little Tom.
He needed none of them. Without him, without his leadership no less than his knowledge of this forest, they would be helpless, easy victims for the Dons and the dogs.
He walked across the sand. An amazing thought, because it was just as likely that the Dons, unaware of the massacre at Blood River, knowing only that the French had sailed away, would also be afraid. It would be no more than the nervous tension of men about to go into battle, uncertain of what was opposed to them, unknowing which of them would survive the coining days. But it was none the less fear. A fear which could be made to grow.
Of them all, only he had no cause. Providing he kept his wits about him, and remembered that while he was in his element, they were like fishes cast on the shore, and left to drown in fresh air.
He stood before the house. No guard, naturally. Such a thought would not occur to Paddy O'Reilly. They had drunk all of Hilton's wine, and lay scattered about the sand, snoring. The women were absent. What had happened here last night?
'On your feet,' he shouted, and kicked O'Reilly in the thigh.
The big Irishman sat up and scratched his head. 'What? What? By Christ....'
'Aye, and if I had been a Spaniard you'd have been looking Him in the face, if He'd have you.'
O'Reilly scrambled to his feet. 'Are they coming, then?’
They are,' Edward promised. 'Get your friends awake, arid be sure they're sober. Where are the women?"
They took to the house.' O'Reilly pointed.
Skirts fluttered, as Susan and Yarico climbed down, followed more slowly by Aline and Philip, and then by Meg Plummer and the other Carib girls and the children.
'We thought they'd taken you,' Susan remarked.
‘I'm not that easy to take. But they'll be here in a couple of hours.'
'Mon Dieu,' Aline said. 'But why should they come here?'
'Because they mean to make sure there are no human beings left alive when they leave. They know we've spread over the island.' He frowned at her; her face was pale and it was evident that she had scarcely slept. 'Are you all right?’
'Yes, monsieur.' She glanced at the Irishmen, who were gazing at her. ‘I suffered no more than threats.'
'For that night,' Susan said. ‘I'll not stand in front of her again.'
They remember too well she's French, Edward,' Philip said.
Aline's pointed chin was thrust forward. ‘I am one of you, now.'
Edward nodded. "You are that. Well, Yarico?' Yarico shrugged. 'Edward, woman,' she said. 'Ed-ward must care.'
‘I intend to. And what will the rest of you do when the Dons get here?"
O'Reilly looked at the canoe. 'There's Antigua.'
Ten miles of open sea in that piece of bark? And there are Caribs on Antigua, Paddy. They'd have you strung up before you got landed.'
'We'd best take to the woods,' Yeats said.
'For what?' Susan demanded. 'The dogs will hunt us down.'
'True,' Edward said. ‘If they're set to it. And they will be.'
'By Christ,' O'Reilly said. 'Are we done, then?’ 'Very likely,' Edward said. 'And we'll be done quicker by either sitting here and quarrelling, or skulking around the bushes waiting to be dragged down to the beach.'
'So what do we do?" Connor demanded. 'Flap our wings and fly away?’
Edward faced them. 'They've come here to destroy a rival settlement, made up of tobacco farmers, not soldiers. They're not considering a fight.'
'Oh, sure,' O'Reilly said. 'Right cowards they are.'
‘I never said that, Paddy. I'm just stating what's in their minds. They want to destroy all foreign settlements in these islands. Otherwise they'd not have gone on to Nevis and given Monsieur Belain time to leave. That's clear as day. And now they're expecting no resistance. And why should they risk their lives? There's nothing here to interest them. Some tobacco, a little corn. They'll have that aboard by tonight. And they don't know what's in that forest'
'And you aim to tell them?'
'Just that Paddy. We'll make up a story and tell them that.'
'Ye'll fight them?' Susan cried.
‘You think they'll just look at you because your belly's got a bulge?" he shouted. ‘It'll make for variety. Aye. I mean to fight them. Every Spaniard we kill gives every one of us a better chance of survival. I'm telling you, they didn't come here to die.'
'And we're our hands,' Connor said sarcastically.
"Yarico and I will show you how to make bows and arrows. We have our knives. And we need but one success to gain all the aims we need. By Christ, what are you staring at? You just agreed we were done. This way at the worst we can take a couple of Dons with us. What are you, men or cattle? You're men, by God. Irish men.'
‘It'll be like old times,' Yeats muttered. 'But who'll lead?"
‘I'll lead,' Edward told him.
‘You?' O'Reilly demanded. ‘I doubt ye've the belly for a game like this one, Ted, lad.'
'Maybe you'll find I've changed, Paddy,' Edward said. ‘You'd best ask Yeats.'
'Fisticuffs,' O'Reilly said. ' Tis not the same as cutting a man's throat, now is it?"
‘I'll lead, by God,' Edward said. 'Because my name is Edward Warner. Because this island is mine. And if you care to dispute that argument, Paddy O'Reilly, you'd best do so right away.'
O'Reilly hesitated, glanced at his fellows, at Susan, at Yarico, standing there with solemn faces. He shrugged. 'Ye’ll lead, Ted, lad. At the beginning, to be sure.'
And at the end? The end meant just one unsuccessful engagement. Thus he sweated, as he lay on the ground on an outcrop of rock above the windward beach, and looked down at the smoke rising where Tony Hilton's house had stood, yesterday. And counted the Spaniards; twenty men and an officer. Exactly even, in numbers of men. But those down there earned swords and pistols, and halberds. And they had two dogs, now casting about the beach, sniffing and finding, as they were intended to. Oh, God, he thought, if Father were here. Then there would be no question as to the success of the coming engagement If only Father were here. But to gaze at the horizon in the anxious hope of seeing a sail was to lose resolution in a dream.
A rustle had him turning, knife thrust forward. Just three days ago tins girl had smelt of perfume, had laughed with the confidence of a lady making her way through a world filled with eager admirers, had preferred to remain in the jungle rather than walk the street in front of her friends in a torn gown, and had made up her own rules for the living of life itself.
Three days ago it might have been possible to doubt just how much of a human being she was, and how much of a fancy doll. Not any longer. She had discarded her gown and wore her shift, as did Susan. Indeed he had watched her staring at Yarico, who had preferred to revert entirely to the Indian, with thoughtful eyes, where it would never have occurred to Susan to go that far in the search for forest freedom. Aline's feet were bare, as were her shoulders and the curves of her magnificent breasts, and now they were tinged pink by the continuous sun, as were her cheeks and forehead, hi places the flesh was rough and threatening to peel, as his had done on the voyage from England, how many eternities ago? Her fingers, long and delicate, were still topped in places by the slender nails, but these also were no longer white. Just as her mind could no longer be the web of cultured artificiality he had taken and crumpled beneath his hands, as he had done to so many minds. She cleaned fish with Susan and Yarico, she disappeared into the forest with them for her necessaries, and she endured the glowing gazes of the Irishmen without embarrassment any longer. Only in one respect had she preserved her individuality; rather than leave her mahogany brown hair float in the wind and catch on tree and twig, as did the other women, she tied it back with a length of cloth torn from the hem of her gown, by her action leaving her face curiously exposed, almost like a boy's, and thus increasing at once its strength and its beauty.
There should have been another aspect of her unique personality to be admired, but for three days she had not laughed. Perhaps that first night had revealed to her with too s
tartling a certainty just what situation she had placed herself in. Or perhaps she doubted him. Because for three days he had done nothing more than treat her as any of the other women, and in this she lacked the intimacy, as she had lacked the knowledge and the experience, of Susan and Yarico. But there was no other way. The Irishmen were as hungry as he, and for him to give way to his desires, even for a moment, would be to expose her to everything they dreamed of, and their dreams filled their eyes and their faces every time they looked at her.
So now she was risking too much. 'You should not have come,' he said.
'No one saw me leave. They are too excited and too frightened.'
'And you are not?"
She knelt beside him. It was remarkable how the traces of perfume came to him, even above the sweat. But it was the sweat more than anything, the moisture which accompanied her, winch made him want her more than any woman since he had wanted his own mother. 'Yes,' she said. 'But I am happy to be so. These past few days I have wondered how I ever managed to exist, before. Was not all mankind intended by God to live like this? And womankind, too?'
'You'll find it uncomfortable if it continues too long,' he said.
'Never. I but lack your affection.'
He sighed, and turned back to watch the men on the beach. 'You understand our situation.'
'Yes. But that is no reason for you never to smile on me. And now we are alone.'
'You think so? They will have missed you by now, and now they will know whence you have gone.'
'Well, then,' she said. 'The damage is done.'
He could not stop his head turning. She was not three feet away from him, the skirt of her shift pulled up to reveal her knees as she knelt. 'Can you not wait until we are married, mademoiselle?'
‘I could, monsieur. Supposing I was certain of that event. I do not speak now only of the Spaniards. I speak of surviving them.'
'Then you have lost your faith in me.'
‘I would know whether it was no more than lust.'
No more than lust. No more than lust, at this moment, certainly. Compounded not only by her nearness and her loveliness, but by fear, of the coming few minutes, of his own reaction to it, and of what might happen afterwards. 'You have lived with my people for three days. You have talked with Susan and Yarico. Do you think I am worth much as a husband?'
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