Neville put forward that he would share it out in accord with the navy’s ways, between Experiment and Savage, including that he would name Fuller as Commodore for sharing purposes; Fuller had laughed at the idea. “I don’t laugh at sharing, no. I think it a wise and generous move. If you do not share, your men, who must all know what is afoot, will think you a miserly and untrustworthy leader. I have put a lock on your box and it can sit in the cupboard here without a worry until you share it out. Nobody here knows what it is. Think carefully on when to share it out, though. If you share it out now, half your crew will be gone. Wait too long and they may become troublesome. I laugh at the notion of your including me. Look around. Do you think I need it?” Still chuckling, he changed his mind, “But wait, maybe I should accept. I think a dowry might be needed…” That hint dropped, he still withheld Maria’s hand, asking whether Neville intended, if wed, to take his daughter to England.
Neville resumed his pacing after Gooden left, thinking on that question as well as the prize money. Colonel Fuller had asked not to be given an immediate answer; that Neville should think on it. After his discussion with Fuller, Neville brought Verley in to make a count of the money in the chest, and a quick calculation told him that his share was on the order of 7,920 pesos. Having learned that a captain’s pay was on the order of twenty-five pesos a month, his share, without the additional amount that Thomas Fuller had hinted might be Maria’s dowry, was over twenty years’ pay. Given that there were at the time one hundred, five and sixty crewmen together on Experiment and Savage, each seaman and marine would receive about thirty-two pesos – slightly more than five months’ pay. More importantly, they would receive it in one lump sum on the spot. It was either the icing on the cake or the spoiling of the milk, depending upon one’s viewpoint; they could be relieved of it all very quickly in Port Royal.
At four bells of the afternoon watch, with company’s supper finished, Neville went below to dine by himself. What a glorious thing, he marveled to himself on walking through the cabin door and looking astern through the repaired gallery windows. They were clear - not clouded by the spray of salt water or darkened by the black smoke of cannon fire. The small panes twinkled with the morning sun aslant upon them. I must make some extra present to Mr. MacRead for this miracle.
It may have been the events of the last few weeks, the light of the sun in the stern gallery, the prospect of future success, the expectation of a good meal, or other things, or the sum of them all that caused Neville Burton to open the small drawer in the front of his small desk and withdraw a single piece of paper and a quill. The ink well sat within its varnished fiddles, where it always waited for use in writing log entries or his official reports. He placed the paper upon the brown blotter fastened there, dipped his quill, and began something he had believed for over a year that he would never do again. With little pieces of pictures of his mother, his sister Elizabeth, Mary Mitchell, and Maria above all firmly fixed in his head, he began a letter:
Experiment, at Sea
October 13, 1690
My Dearest Maria,
It is unlikely that I will ever be able to describe to you the meaning of your love to my life. If I could wish for anything, it would be for you to meet my mother and my sister, though it could never be. I find it unsettling that I have never written you before, as you are on my mind at every waking moment and are with me in everything I do…..
He stood topside one hour later with a heart that felt a hundred pounds lighter. He took a deep breath of the Caribbean salt air. Something had changed. He felt at peace, as if he were home; that he would never leave this place. He might be sent ‘home’ one day, or to some other theater of war, but he felt that the Caribbean - Jamaica to be specific - was now his home, and he would always return. He knew how he would answer Thomas Fuller.
The passage from Jamaica ended well. The wind veered all day farther and farther north. Cabo Beata was given a very wide berth in the middle of the fourth night. The fleet tacked for their destination in the morning of day five and anchored in the Bahia de Neibla – “the first bay to the north of the cape” - to wait for the Spanish forces to appear.
Neville sent his gig to collect Captain Verley to join him for dinner the moment the anchor splashed.
“Well, Lt. Verley. What’s it like being captain?”
“Quite different than I expected. I kept looking to inquire how you wanted the sails set rather than topping it the know-it-all, but I’m starting to learn how to look all serious and say ‘Hmmm. Excellent, Mr. Dinman. I’m going below,’ and then I go down to collect my wits. But then, I’ve got that Fensham fellow as servant. When I do go down he wants it all his way, you know.”
“You need to set him to rights soon, for sure. But your cook…?” He queried, running down all the details with the greatest curiosity, enjoying the enthusiasm of his friend in his new command. The discussion soon turned to sharing out the prize money.
“It is my greatest desire to avoid an unhappy frenzy when we pay out,” Neville said. “There may not be much we can do about the men of Savage, but if we could pay the Experimentals in stages, or in small groups, as it were, then they might not encourage each other so strongly to waste it as quickly as they possibly can.”
“I have it in mind to leave on a shakedown cruise similar to the one taken by Experiment a few months ago,” said Vincent. “We might pay my men on the day before we sail and not allow them leave. They would at least have time to think about what they will do when they get back, and may save a coin or two.”
“We shall do as you suggest, then, and I will do similar. I will allow only twenty men ashore on any one day, such privilege achieved solely by the choosing of straws, and will then sail ‘round to the Old Harbor to careen and work the sheeting. We might be better out of sight of Port Royal, and we will exchange the leave-takers as time permits. At least I’ll not have the entire crew drunk at once, and we should have the task complete by the time you are returned.”
The next day was used to transport the hundreds of marines and militia to shore in the fleet’s many boats. Twenty had come on each frigate and fifty to seventy on each of the nine merchants. A camp quickly appeared ashore, with the smoke from cooking fires appearing soon after the first groups landed. The movement was accomplished by two in the afternoon, but no Spanish were sighted that day or the next morning.
“I am beginning to worry about our Spanish friends,” commented Neville to Lt. Ratshaw.
“If they do not arrive in another day or so we must return our forces to Jamaica with nothing accomplished, and the governor will be most displeased.”
“Worry no more,” said Ratshaw nonchalantly, “Thither they come.”
“What? Where away?”
“You see that stream mouth a bit to the south of the center of the beach? Behind it as we look from here is a low hill about a mile on. They are coming ‘round the south of it now, see? You see their red standard move. It is difficult, as it approaches us directly.”
Captain Burton returned his fleet directly to Port Royal, leaving the army to its job on Hispaniola. Meeting neither dirty weather nor dirty pirates, and with the typical prevailing wind comfortably in their sails from their starboard quarters, the passage was but four days. The voyage to collect the army was scheduled for three weeks later. The Comtesse du Provence raised anchor for her training voyage in three days.
“There is another advantage to this location,” Neville gloated to Maria from the terrace as he lifted his afternoon tea. “I can keep an eye from here.”
Experiment was careened at the southwest beach within the harbor across from Port Royal. Most of her company were employed at removing weed from her bottom. The carpenter, affectionately known by all as “Chips” would be in charge of the work parties for another week and a half, seeing to it that all the thin wood sheeting that served as weed and worm protection for her hull was removed and replaced with new. Mr. Gooden would have the task to find new sheeting. T
he hills of Jamaica, if naught else, were a good source of wood.
Neville had brought a long glass from the ship to the house, and it rested at the corner of the terrace. With it, he could almost make out who the men were as they worked on the hull of his careened Experiment.
“I look forward to seeing how much difference it makes to the ship’s speed,” he said enthusiastically to Maria. “When did your father say he would have time for me to visit with him?”
“He said four, Neville,” she said sweetly. “I’m sure you remember. I am also sure that you remember that I have you in the morning from nine to noon, yes?”
“Of course. How could I forget? I am looking forward to seeing how my love spends her time.”
Since tea had been served at three, four o’clock was soon upon him, and Neville knocked on the library door.
“Come!” bellowed Col. Thomas Fuller from within. He was working some ledgers, undoubtedly of cane harvests or other farm business, but put them aside when his visitor arrived. Neville had been a guest at his home for months now, although spending less time there lately. While they continued on a very friendly tone, each carrying the expectation that they would eventually be family, Col. Fuller had inferred from some little expression that this meeting was to be more formal. He expected another request for his daughter’s hand in marriage.
“Good afternoon, Colonel,” said Neville. “I see you are busy. Should we make this another time?”
“No, my good captain. Now is fine. What is your subject?”
To Fuller’s surprise, Neville said, “Money, Sir. I am in hopes you can advise me. You are quite aware of my windfall, and I am quite unsure of what to do with it.”
Fuller paused for a moment, then turned and shuffled through some papers on the credenza behind his desk. When he turned back to Neville, he asked, “Have you thought about that other question I asked?”
“Oh, yes, Sir. The answer has come clearly to me. Jamaica will be my home, as I know it is Maria’s. Between this windfall and some other trade – nautical, I assume - I should be able to make a living here. I will remain with the Navy as best I can. It will probably mean the occasional voyage to England and back, but I believe if I request the Jamaica station it would be looked upon favorably.”
There was always the unsaid expectation by both that, with no other heirs, the Fuller fortune would someday fall to Maria. If Neville were to marry her, the fortune would become his. It was logical, then, for Thomas to take an interest in Neville’s financial education. “You may be in luck, Neville, in more ways than one. If you had asked me this last year, together with expressing your interest in remaining in Jamaica, I would have had to suggest that you invest some amount in land here and place another amount in a local keeping-house. This paper,” he said, lifting it and releasing it to float to the desk, “proposes an entirely new approach. A Mr. Richard Hoare has had a reputable gold-merchant’s business in Cheapside, London, for almost twenty years now. Only last year he moved his company, C. Hoare & Co., to Fleet Street, and has created a new financial scheme that he calls a ‘bank’. One can deposit money with him and be paid interest on it. I would be happy to explain to you the thing they call ‘interest.’ This interest, which he pays you to ‘rent your money’, is currently three percent per annum. You may request the return of your money – or write them to pay someone else – whenever you wish. It could be a most profitable investment, given time. Since your treasure is largely gold, Hoare’s would be quite capable of handling it. I might suggest you send the gold there and retain the silver for current expenses. The address is given as the sign of the ‘Golden Bottle’ on Fleet Street.”
Neville and Maria had planned to leave at half eight and be home by three, but she had warned him that the time might easily expand to include unexpected situations. Despite his familiarity with his accommodations, Neville spent an uncomfortable night. The room where he had stayed during his recuperation had essentially become “Neville’s room,” and he even left personal items there when he was away. The high humidity that derived from the day’s rains and his ruminations on the subject of money disturbed his sleep.
He knew he needed to make some decision, his thinking began. He could not keep such a treasure aboard ship, and there was another concern he wished he did not have to admit to myself. He was neither from there – Jamaica – nor from this time. He was born 12 August, 1780, which would not come for another ninety years. He would probably never know how he came to be there, and certainly could not know if he were ever to be sent back – until and unless it has happened. He prayed that he would be allowed to remain forever with Maria. Whatever he planned, it must allow for her welfare if he were lost at sea or lost in time, yet should permit him some comfort if he were cast adrift in 1800 – or whenever.
Hoare’s ‘bank’ may be the perfect thing. Thomas says that if I deposit it there, I can have it back whenever I wish, whether that be twenty years from now as I live happily in Jamaica or an ‘undred years from now as I grieve for Maria in England. I shall send the gold, as he says, find a place to hide most of the silver here, keeping out some for my modest needs. I must show Maria where the hidden money is as well, so if I disappear as I did from Mary or as father did from mother, she will have it. She will not like to hear it, but I should remind her that I am a navy officer who might be killed at any time by the enemy or the sea.
Having made his decision, he slept so soundly that he did not appear to breakfast by 7:00 and did not rouse until he heard Maria’s rapping on his door and her call, “Come on, you slow-belly captain. It’s time for breakfast if we’re going to leave by half eight.”
Maria had dressed in her teacher’s clothes – a long plain gray skirt and a white shirt embroidered brightly as he had seen on many of the local women. These were essentially riding clothes because that activity consumed much of the day. She was clearly excited, but anxious about the day, and was not expecting Neville to be late. She had eaten most of her breakfast while pretending to wait for him. When he arrived, she was nibbling on some warm banana-bread. As soon as Neville sat and made his excuses she began in a no-nonsense voice, “There’s banana bread, or regular toast if you want it, orange juice and coffee. I’m expected, you know, and I’ve told Trombé to have the horses ready in five minutes, so don’t dawdle. You look good in those,” she added, softening her tone a bit while referring to his civilian clothes. “I wasn’t about to have a navy officer walk into my school and scare the children – or their parents, either, and I certainly didn’t want to listen to you complain about how I’d gotten your uniform all dirty again while you followed me on a woman’s errand.”
Neville was wearing a pair of Thomas’ trousers that had been re-sewn slightly to fit him and a loose shirt that was typical of those worn by many of the shop-keepers he had seen on his visits to Spanish Town. A wide-brimmed woven palm hat hung on the chair for him. Maria had told him that she wanted him to have the appearance of a respectable but not too affluent man of town so that his presence would not be intimidating. He was surprised at the comfort afforded by the light cotton cloth.
“I quite like the clothes, Maria, and I will not be a spoiler today. I’m going to help you if ever I can and enjoy your company,” Neville said, being careful to keep his tone cheerful and play his role as diplomatically as he could. I can see who’s in charge today, and I’d best do as I’m told, he mused with a smile.
When Maria said five minutes, she was not joking. Neville had eaten only half his breakfast when Trombé led the horses into the courtyard.
“Come along, slow-belly,” repeated Maria, standing.
“But…,” said Neville, “I’ve just…”
“Stuff it in, then. Let’s go!” she ordered, interrupting his complaint.
Oh, it’ll be like that today, will it? thought Neville. Where’s my adorable, demure Maria? Maybe this is when I learn how my seamen feel about my orders.
Small talk prevailed in the first fifteen minutes
of the ride to Spanish Town. It might have been otherwise, except that they noticed a small but raucous flock of brightly-colored parrots that followed them for a mile or two.
After that, Neville’s curiosity broke to the surface, “Why do you go into Spanish Town, Maria? Is there not a school at Church Pens?”
“You’ve not understood it yet, I see. Church Pens is closer, for sure, Neville, but I am not an every-day school teacher. I do something special for the children who do not read or speak English. The students at Church Pens are English-speaking, and they have a perfectly good teacher in Mr. Mews. Spanish Town was the capitol city under Spanish rule, as you know, and when the English took over the people did not simply vanish. The Spanish army and navy and government bureaucrats left, were hanged, shot, or traded back as prisoners, yes. It was a very brutal time, and I am afraid father had his part in it. Nevertheless, many of the common folk stayed. Jamaica is their home. There are many who were too poor to be of any consequence to us English, or too old or were children of the streets. Some are maroons - mixes with the local Indians and some with negroes, though I know not how they came to be free here in Jamaica. This is the next generation, and mostly they speak Spanish. Those families who have managed to get along in our new rebuilt city try to improve things for their children, and so they have built a few schools on the poor side of town. Many are not much better than hovels, as you will see.”
“Why do you go, then? What difference does it make?”
“Neville, how could you ask such a thing? Would you let a child of ours grow up without education, without a chance of bettering….” Maria paused, realizing she may have made her point a bit close to home. She blushed a little, though in the strong sunlight and the shadow of her hat, she was sure it didn’t show. She restated her cause, “…All parents love their children and want the best, don’t they?”
A Journal of The Experiment at Jamaica (The Neville Burton 'Worlds Apart' Series Book 2) Page 19
