A Journal of The Experiment at Jamaica (The Neville Burton 'Worlds Apart' Series Book 2)

by Georges Carrack

  Good! Let ‘em stay there, Neville thought as his left arm lifted the coffee to his lips. “Ah, here you are, Lt. Ratshaw. Do you fancy a plate of collops? I see Suddicke there in the chains trading for some fruit, too. I’m sending a boat off for Lt. Verley and Mr. Stokes. When they arrive, bring them both down for breakfast. Meanwhile, please get awnings rigged. We’ll have a hot one today now that the storm clouds have blown off.”

  Neville went below to organize the day in his open-air cabin below. Suddicke came in and refilled his cup. “We’ve got no boat to go for Lt. Verley,” he reminded. “Two o’ them boats got ‘oles in ‘em, and you sent Stokes off to Lord Aaron in your gig, remember?”

  “Oh, yes,” Neville sighed. “Signal, then. A French flag and ‘Come to Experiment for a meeting’ should do it. Oh, the boats remind me…. Pass word for MacRead,” he said, thinking of the detailed work that would be necessary to put the stern gallery to rights and wondering if the man would be able to procure any glass at all.

  “What’s this?” he wondered aloud. Glancing aft through his shattered windows, his eye caught a procession of four large rowing launches creeping across the water like centipedes toward Ferret. “Mr. Suddicke, fetch me a glass, please.”

  After putting the glass to his eye and studying the insects, he decided the centipede’s red spots were marines in shabby uniforms. The first boat had reached Ferret. Four marines boarded. They were welcomed by someone with whom they stood talking for a moment – Savage’s master, probably. They had met, but Neville doubted he’d recognize the man. Marines from the second launch went aboard as well, and the other two launches stood off.

  Vincent arrived and went directly below to find Neville standing at his smashed window.

  “I think the town constable has sent the marines over for Ferret’s prisoners.”

  “It looks that way. I noticed them as we were rowing over.”

  Ratshaw, Burton, and Verley had begun to eat before Stokes arrived, but the collops and coffee were still hot. “It’s wonderful, indeed,” exclaimed Verley, and Stokes added, “I’m starving. We arrived no'but a half hour before you yesterday and all I’ve et since is a cold chop.”

  Neville took a moment to look at Midshipman Stokes more clearly. It felt almost as if it were for the first time. The young man looked older than Neville – twenty-three, maybe. Having volunteered from the rank of Able Seaman when previous officers died, he wore his hair and clothes far more like jack tar than those of an officer. His blond hair came below his shoulders and was usually kept plaited with a tie at the bottom. He wore no mustache, but his ample yellow sideburns, longer at the chin, came almost together to form a beard. His pale blue eyes twinkled with ambition – or imagination. He had somehow acquired a small blue jacket with brass buttons which was his insignia of rank, but the arms were short. His short duck trousers came from the purser’s slops, complete with a rope belt. There were no proper gentleman’s stockings to be had on his pay, and Stokes was probably pleased about that in this climate. It looked as if the trouser waist buttons had been moved out as far as possible. Neville understood that Experiment was Stokes’ first ship and that he had come across from England as a foremast topman. Since volunteering, he was made Midshipman of the foremast, which suited him well, and he had learned his duties quickly. Neville had the sudden realization that he would need to be taught navigation at the very least.

  “I expect your written reports before you go,” began Neville, “but give me the short version now, please.”

  Lt. Verley began, “Not much to report, really, other than about the prisoners. We took seven, if you remember, counting M. Roise, Comtesse’s midshipman, and you took the injured and the other six. They were all right; cooperated and all. One seems keen to stay among us when we send the rest home. You’ll need to speak with him in French to be sure that’s what he’s about, though. Comtesse is in quite good condition and our passage back here with Sprightly was unremarkable. We got in a day before the hurricane hit, with plenty of time to anchor down solid-like. Jamaicans from Wasp and Camelot had their work to anchor Sprightly, though, because the town constable came out and took her pirates off as soon as they learned who she was - as they’re doing with Ferret now. I’m sure they’ll be told to get the rest of ’em from Sprightly. Constable doesn’t care about Frenchmen, though, so we still have them. I think the governor will say different.”

  A knock came at the door mid-breakfast. “Mr. MacRead, please come in.

  “Before you go to your work, Mr. MacRead, can you give us the butcher’s bill?”

  “Aye, Sah! Two men shot dead on Comtesse. Ferret shot two of our marines and another was injured by a big splinter in the arm. Laurel’s lost six to the storm, as far as we still know, and there are four French dead: two due to cutlass wounds and two have been shot. Sprightly’s captain’s among ‘em. We’ll have eight or ten on the sick list tomorrow for broken things and splinter wounds and the like.”

  “And the sick list?”

  ‘Aye, Sir. Goin’ from memory, we ‘ave ay-it t’day. Most important, we ‘aven’t ‘ad any mar o’ th’ ague. They air two English from the fayt wi’ Comtesse – cuts and a bullet, one wi’ th’ splinter from the wee boats on deck, one took a bad fall in the big seas day before yestidy and broke his leg, two French still wi’ th’ bloody flux and two still ‘ave the scurvy too bad for duty. Yer layme juice has set t’other Frenchies up good, Sah. Lost no more teeth or hair and all gettin’ stronger. That French warrant officer you cut on his arm – master’s mate, maybe - will be fayne; he’s off wi’ bandages. Ay’ve seen none from Sprightly, Sah!”

  “Thank you, Mr. MacRead. We all appreciate your work. And now there’s that,” said Neville, pointing to the gallery.

  “Aye. I heard aboat it. We kin fix it, o’course, if ay kin get the glass in town. Chips has his others on the wee boaties, Sah, and the big hole in th’ quatteredeck rail.”

  MacRead went to the gallery to study its details, and the officers returned to their breakfast.

  “A lovely plate of collops, Sir,” commented Ratshaw.

  “Which I made,” mumbled Suddicke

  “Midshipman Stokes, please regale us with your adventures in the Lord Aaron,” requested Neville.

  “I’ve not much either,” began Stokes. “After I went over to Lord Aaron and passed the message, there was no getting back to Experiment. We were all surprised at Ferret’s collision with Beagle, but we had to organize the rescue of Laurel. She was lost - holed in the mangroves, but together with boats from the others, we got almost all her men back into Lord Aaron. Beagle will probably need three or four days to set her bowsprit to rights, but with the help of Wasp, she should manage all right. That’s about it, Sir.”

  Tossing his napkin on the table, Neville said, “I’m sorry gentlemen, we mustn’t linger. I must pay my respects to the Governor, and I’d like to inspect Ferret before I go in. I can trust Lt. Verley’s report for the Comtesse, but don’t think I have time for Sprightly as well. Is Mr. Yarrow still aboard?”

  “Aye, Sir, he is,” answered Stokes. “He has agreed to stay with his men from Lord Aaron until the governor sends somebody to claim her, as long as it’s not more than a few days.”

  “They are an independent lot,” mumbled Neville, then saying, “I shall tell that to the governor as well, and I suppose I can try to see her on my way back out. I’d like you to accompany me to the governor’s, if you would, Lt. Verley.”

  Experiment’s men on Ferret did what they could to pipe their captain up the side, but it was a sad affair for lack of drums and men. There were only two marines among them, thus limiting the receiving party. Savage’s master’s mate, who had brought the ship in, was not a military man. The town constable’s marine force was long departed with the prisoners, and Neville noticed they were at Sprightly now. He took a quick walk about the deck, looking to see whether the ship had suffered any serious damage and to make an estimate of her serviceability. Content with that
he went below to the master’s cabin. On first look, he had the feeling that the cabin had been searched. There should have been the master’s silver, at least, if he were not a poor man. While the crew might be mostly honest men, there might also be several among them who had been pirates before Jamaica outlawed them. An odd set of common pewter lay jumbled on a small shelf.

  His first thought was to obtain any charts. The entire concept of understanding the islands was becoming of great interest to him, although he had not yet tumbled to the idea that it might be an important key to gaining English command of the Caribbean. There were four charts. The first was the same Dutch general chart of the entire Sea that was aboard Experiment. The second and third were poorly made French charts of Jamaica and the Windward Islands – more like large sketches that might appear in some master’s rutter. The fourth, however, was a masterful Spanish creation describing the entire island of Hispaniola. This treasure he would keep.

  What else was in this cabin? It contained someone’s clothes in an ornate hanging locker, with a flat-topped well-worn shoe box at the bottom. Were they the pirate master’s or the rightful owner’s? Why so many shoes? Was the fellow some sort of fop? He opened the box out of pure curiosity. It was lined with copper. He pulled out the top pair of ratty sea boots. Next below was a well-blacked set of leather shoes with heavy shined brass buckles, and below them was… gold and silver coins! He blinked at it in disbelief, and reached in to touch them. It was real cobbed coin, for sure. French Louis XIV’s and Spanish 8-reale silver pesos – gold doubloons and pieces of eight by the handful! How deep is this box? Is this just a few coins in the bottom of a shoe box? He leaned down to lift it out, and it did have handles, but it did not move; far too heavy. There’s thousands of money in here!

  “Lt. Verley!” he hollered.

  “Aye?”

  “Post our two marines at the door and send down the strongest two men you have at hand.”

  Two extremely heavy-set seamen entered the cabin a few minutes later. Neville had tossed the shoes aside and reset the lid, which had a sturdy latch but no lock.

  “Lift that box out of the locker, if you would, please. Take care, it’s quite heavy. The first one reached down as if to take it alone, but was surprised when it did not lift. He moved it forward a half inch, though, and so knew it was not fastened to the hull. “Reach in ‘ere, Mulworthy,” he said. It’s either larger than it looks or full ‘o somethin’ ‘evvy,” he added with a knowing look. Mulworthy raised his eyebrows.

  The two got themselves in good positions to lift the box out of the awkward location, and with expressive grunts managed to remove it from the locker.

  “Lt. Verley, keep a guard on this and have it loaded into the gig very carefully. I imagine you’ll have to sway it over.” He made sure the seamen heard him add, “We’ll take it to the governor’s. I’ll join you as soon as I’ve had a look in the holds.”

  An hour later Neville’s very crowded gig scrubbed heavily on the sand. Four oarsmen stepped out, followed by marines who were then handed their loaded muskets. The gig rose two inches in the water, and then was pulled farther up the sand. The two strongmen from Ferret’s cabin stepped out next, raising the gig another inch and it scrubbed forward more. After Neville and Verley disembarked, the boat was manhandled as far up the beach as eight men could move it. The marines stood aside on guard as the strongmen unloaded the box and carried it across the street to the ‘King’s House’.

  At the building’s portico, Neville inquired of the sentries for admittance. One of them rang the bell and an unfamiliar reception clerk appeared after a few minutes’ wait. Apparently the sentries were not authorized to answer any question, regardless how insignificant.

  The receptionist allowed them in, but Neville’s hopes of a simple resolution to his dilemma were dashed by the reception clerk. The governor was at his residence in Spanish Town.

  “We will go see him there, then,” said Neville. “but may I inquire whether there is a locked storeroom where we might keep this chest from the pirated Ferret which now lies in the harbor. We must inquire of her owner if this is his property, and I did not believe it wise to leave it there without knowing.”

  Neville was suddenly quite self-conscious in his realization that, in addition to the wet shoes and stockings, he had never changed to his good uniform. It was probably fortunate for him that the governor was not in.

  The receptionist did not appear pleased with the group assembled in his foyer - the two officers and their men with wet shoes and dripping stockings and their shabby box - but he walked to a door at the side of the room and opened it for them to walk through. Neville escorted his strongmen down a short hall behind the receptionist, who stopped a few feet further within and unlocked another door. The small space within was not much more than a closet, but it was apparently being used as a secured vault for official government files. Most were in boxes marked with previous years. There were also a few bits of silver and gold plate that were probably used for large group functions and a few paintings that could be exchanged periodically with those hanging on the walls.

  “This will do nicely,” said Neville, “Put it there.” He pointed to a back corner. After the men walked out, he covered the box by placing a box of ledger books on top of it.

  Neville thanked the receptionist and his group left, leaving the man staring at his sand-strewn wet floor.

  Stepping out onto Thames Street, Neville dallied to look for a passing boy who might take a message to the Fullers. He knew they would be expecting it because they could see the harbor from the house. Finding one, Neville passed him a message he had hastily scribbled in King’s House and paid him tuppence to take it thence. He then crossed the street and the strand to where his boat crew waited.

  Anxious to make their visits, Captain Burton and his First Lieutenant Verley were under way at first light, leaving orders for Experiment to be careened for maintenance to her hull. Dark clouds and the smell of rain amplified the mugginess of an October day and suggested a refreshing shower soon to come.

  “We’ll stop at the Fullers first,” said Neville once they swung themselves up onto the seat of a small hired wagon that now held the strongbox they had collected from King’s House.

  “Oh, I know why you want to go there,” Verley joked.

  “Well, sir, you are correct about my desire to go, I could not in life deny it, but it is not the main reason we must go there. If Maria was not there and we were in England, I might suggest a discussion at the local pub, but in this rat warren, I would worry about being overheard and therefore fear for our safety. At the Fullers, there are only the ears of friends who might be of help to us. I intend to ask Colonel Fuller what I should do with the box. Consider it. The ship belonged to a Jamaican plantation owner. Whatever this box holds, was it his? I suspect not, but Colonel Fuller may know. I cannot give it away if it belongs with the ship, but neither can I trust the men of Ferret to leave their hands off it; certainly not once word is out, which is why we stored it at King’s House. How long, for that matter, would it be safe in a files closet, even at King’s House? You know that our men have the same suspicion that you do - that there is pirate plunder in there - gold. What else is that heavy? Where else could I put it while we wait for a decision from the governor?”

  En route to Fullers’ they saw much evidence of the hurricane’s force – roofless wooden houses, uprooted trees, fields of flattened cane and several dead cattle. In places, they had to take detours or construct alternatives to pass great gullies across the roads. They became more worried as the trek continued. The butterflies flapped and flew in Neville’s chest and his heart beat faster than normal. On approach to the plantation, however, they were pleased to see the house standing. Building damage was nil. Heavy shutters had saved the windows and the roof was in place. The worst damage was to vegetation. A great Norfolk Pine was down across Fuller’s surrounding fence. Within the interior courtyard where Neville had first seen Maria, the
garden was a frightful mess.

  Neville’s fear for Maria’s safety evaporated immediately following their entrance; she rushed out to him on first sight. Their clinging embrace threw proper manners aside, and they gave each other more polite brother-sister sort of pecks on the cheek. Their joy to see each other safe after such an ordeal was understood by Thomas. He allowed it to pass with no comment.

  Fullers’ evening meal table was shared by Edith and Fred Littlewood, refugees from the north side of the island. Thomas was allowing them to shelter in his ‘hospital’ rooms, as Neville did when he visited. A very exuberant description of the events of the past few weeks was been accompanied by the soup, and Thomas Fuller’s detailed description of Laurens’ encroachment at Montego Bay coincided with a fish course. Maria had insisted upon a full and proper meal if they were to entertain both civilian guests and two navy captains, and it was being fully appreciated. The conversation slowed as the food filled them, however. “Did you see Beagle and Wasp come in today, Colonel Fuller?” Verley asked.

  Fred Littlewood, who was but twelve, at last had something to add, blurting out, “I did. They came in right at noon, they did. I watched their sails all morning, from when they were tiny little specs in the morning sun. I couldn’t look the whole time ‘cause the sun hurt my eyes. You call them ‘two-masted sloop-ships’ and I’ll be a captain of one someday!”

  “Well, that answers that,” said Neville. “Thank you, Fred.

  “Now, as to Ferret….” He left the finding of the strongbox out of his story.

  “Colonel Fuller, who did you say Ferret belonged to?”

  “A Mister George Crabtree. I understand his plantation at Montego is close to ruin. His holdings have been devoted to tobacco, not sugar, and he has been loath to change these several years. The loss of his ship may have already forced him to quit, and if not that, de Graaf may have taken whatever he had left.”

  Edith Littlewood cut in, “Yes, sirs, he has had a rough go. I know from his cousin that he has brought his family ‘round here somewhere with an eye to finding a ship for England. He claims he is done with Jamaica. ‘Tis sad, indeed.”