'And now, sir, bed,' Collie said, putting his arm around Dick's shoulders.
'Aye,' said one of the crew, standing close enough to be overheard. 'Best place for him.'
'But the other one had some guts, though, eh?' remarked another.
Dick looked up at Joan Lanken; her expression had now definitely settled into a sneer.
'I think the poor chap can get up now,' Tony said, leaning on the bulkhead and looking down at his brother. 'Don't you, doctor?'
'Oh, indeed,' Collie agreed. 'He is looking much better. A total recovery, I would say. Besides Jamaica is in sight.' He smiled at Dick. 'That'll complete the cure, eh?' He left the tiny cabin originally occupied by Mr Ratchet, but utilized as a sickroom for the past week.
'Jamaica?' Dick sat up.
'We sighted it last evening,' Tony said. 'But I did not wish to excite you. We are entering Port Royal at this moment.'
Dick threw back the covers, peered through the port; the cabin looked aft, and he could see nothing but water. Yet the sea itself had changed, the great rolling waves had disappeared, and this ocean was so quiet it might almost have been painted into place.
'And I'll be right glad to get off this tub, I'll tell you that.' Tony said. 'And to get off in one piece.'
'I don't see how I'll dare leave.' Dick sat down again. He had been confined to the cabin s;nce the duel, and had been happy to stay here, for all that it had been at once hot and boring, with only Tony and the doctor, and occasionally Mrs Collie, for company. At least he had finished his book on sugar. Not that he understood a great deal of it.
'Ah, bah. The whole thing was a nine day's wonder,' Tony declared. 'Why, I'd wager even Joan has forgiven you by now. She'd be ready for another tumble, if you'd take the risk.'
'I'd need my head examined for bumps,' Dick said. 'If only you'd told me what you planned.'
Tony sighed patiently. They had been through this almost every day. 'Then you wouldn't have acted so surprised. And you were obviously totally surprised. Everyone could see that.'
'But to bribe CollieDo you not think he will put it about?'
'He'll not. if he has any sense. I've told him he'll answer to me. Do get on with it.'
Dick pulled on his clothes. 'Yet will they all know that I was afraid to face him.'
Tony smiled at his brother. 'And weren't you?'
'Well. . .' Dick sighed. 'I was more afraid of making a total fool of myself, by sheer ineptitude. Would you believe that?'
'I would,' Tony said, gently. 'But then, I know you.'
'And you,' Dick said miserably. 'I was afraid for you. I never had any idea you could handle a sword like that.'
Tony winked. 'You think I spend all my time gambling and whoring? I practise with the best, Dickie boy. But how was I to tell the old lady? Or even more the old man?'
'But if you intended to fight Lanken anyway, and admit to bedding Mistress Lanken anyway,' Dick said in bewilderment, 'why did you not just do it from the start?'
'Ah, but it was necessary to gain the sympathy of Morrison first, and of the crew. Don't you see?'
‘I suppose so,' Dick said. But he didn't.
'And it worked like a charm,' Tony said. 'And you think I'm good with a sword? You should see me with a pistol.'
'Aye,' Dick said. 'Maybe you should teach me. Although what Uncle Robert will say . . .'
'From what I've heard of that devil, he'll approve. I'll teach you, Dickie lad. And we'll keep quiet about the voyage, eh?' He cocked his head. 'There's the anchor.'
Jamaica. The very name sent Dick's blood pounding through his veins. He had heard so much about this island, differing opinions, from both Mama and Father. He had read so much about it. And it was his birthplace, on top of everything else. He ran into the main cabin, and up the ladder, for the moment forgetting his circumstances, clung to the rail, and stared at the low curve of beach which half enclosed the magnificent natural harbour; this was lined with bending coconut trees, but the mainland which formed the northern arm of the bay rose very rapidly from a house-fringed shore into splendid mountains, higher than any he had seen, save for the glimpse of the peaks of the Negro-held island of Haiti they had passed a few days before.
But the scenery, at once green and lush and brown and dramatic, suggestive of a wet heat—which already had his shirt sticking to his chest, for all that the sun was drooping towards the western horizon—was not half so exciting as the myriad ships which rode to their anchors in the translucent green water, or as the bumboats, manned by black men, which were already swarming around the Green Knight, or indeed as their clothing, which was scanty in the extreme, scarcely more than drawers for the blacks, while the whites who came on board, if they added a shirt and occasionally a handkerchief knotted around the neck to absorb the sweat, wore the same calico, and were in the main unarmed, although several carried heavy whips dangling from their equally formidable leather belts. And above all there rose into the still afternoon air a babble of what was mainly English, but spoken with such a variety of accents, such a failure of punctuation, and such a delightful brogue, it was impossible to catch more than a word or two.
'Ah, it's a place, Jamaica,' remarked Captain Morrison, at his elbow. 'You'll want to be ashore, Mr Hilton.'
Dick turned in surprise. 'The other passengers . . .'
'Can wait. I'm to apologize. Until your brother spoke up yesterday none of us had any idea who you really were. Robert Hilton's nephews. God, sir, there's a compliment to my ship. I'm right sorry about that set-to the other day, Mr Hilton. But between you, you and your brother emerged with credit. Oh, indeed.'
'You mean Tony emerged with credit,' Dick said.
Morrison flushed. 'Ah, well, Mr Hilton, 'tis a fact that not any of us knows how he'll react to a given situation. Your brother tells me you'd no knowledge of weapons. You'd have been a fool not to be scared. And he acted the right part in stepping in, even if he had to practise a subterfuge. Now sir, here's your gear, and the boat is waiting.'
Dick hesitated, glanced at Tony, who had returned to the deck, carrying their bags. Then he thrust out his hand. 'You're a friend, Captain. If I can ever assist you . . .'
Morrison winked. 'I'll call, Mr Hilton. Indeed I will.'
Dick went down the ladder into the waist, gazed at the assembled passengers, who flushed, and averted their eyes. Except for Joan Lanken, who stuck out her tongue at him, and moved it round and round, in a most suggestive fashion, before hastily tucking it away again as her husband noticed her.
'He should beat her more often,' Tony said, and joined him in the boat, where the sailors waited to thread their way through the bumboats towards the wooden dock. 'Quite a place, eh? Christ, what heat. I'd forgotten the heat.'
'And 'tis cooling now, Mr Hilton,' said the coxswain. 'Come noon, why, a man can't hardly breathe.'
The boat nosed into the dock, and Tony jumped ashore, turned to assist his brother. They stood on the somewhat shaky timber, waved to the boat as it returned to the ship, and then gazed up a dusty street, lined on either side by what appeared to be shops of various descriptions, all fronted by wide verandahs beyond which doors and windows stood open. The noise and the bustle was intensified here, as they were surrounded by a crowd of men, white and black, offering them assistance.
'Park Hotel, massa, best in town.'
'You come with me, sir: I have girls. Good clean blacks, fresh from Africa. Make your hair curl.'
'You going up country, massa? Me massa got mules, easy for ride.'
'You'll want to spend the night, gentlemen. Mistress Easy's is the place for you. Good food. Hot water. No bugs. You come with me.'
'Man, you ain't want to listen to he. You got for . . .' 'Hold on,' Tony bellowed, waving them back for their breaths were as acrid as their bodies. 'We seek Mr Robert
Hilton. Of Hilltop.' His words acted like a pistol shot.
'Hilton?' asked one of the white men. 'Of Hilltop?'
'We are his nephews,' Tony said, im
portantly. 'And would acquaint him of our arrival.'
'Hilton?' cried a fresh voice, and the crowd parted to admit a sallow young man, dressed in a caricature of a London clerk, although sweat had sadly soiled his cravat, and his trousers were thick with dust. 'Not Mr Richard Hilton?'
'I am Richard Hilton,' Dick said.
'Ah, thank God, sir. Thank God. I have met every arrival this past month, hoping to find you, sir. You'll come with me, Mr Hilton. Oh, bring your friend. You, there . . .' He snapped his fingers at one of the Negroes. 'Fetch that bag. Quickly now.'
'Are you my uncle's man?' Dick fell into place beside the young man, already hurrying up the street.
'Oh, no,' he replied. 'I am Reynolds' clerk. Reynolds the lawyer, you know. Oh, no, no. We act for Mr Robert Hilton. Or I should say, we did.'
'Eh?' Tony demanded.
'Why, sir, didn't you know? How silly of me. How could you know, being at sea these last weeks. Why, sir, Mr Hilton, Mr Hilton died, but ten days ago.'
4
The Inheritance
Dick stopped as if he had walked into a brick wall. 'Dead? Oh, my God.'
'There's a problem,' Tony said. 'We are stony broke.' The clerk smiled. 'Ah, you have nothing to worry about on that score, sir, if you are travelling with Mr Hilton.'
'Travelling with him?' Tony demanded. 'I am Mr Hilton.' 'Eh?'
'Mr Anthony Hilton,' Dick explained. 'My older brother.'
'Good heavens,' remarked the clerk. 'What a to-do. Oh, indeed, what a to-do. This is Reynolds and Son, gentlemen.'
The house appeared no different from any of the others lining the street; verandahs on both floors, sun-peeled warm paint, swing doors to some sort of an emporium at ground level. But the clerk was leading them up a flight of wooden steps at the side of the building.
'Oh, indeed,' he muttered. 'There will be a to-do. What Mr Reynolds will say . . .' He opened a jalousied door at the top. 'Mr Reynolds, sir. Mr Hilton, and why, Mr Hilton.'
The lawyer was not very much older than themselves, Dick decided, a tall, thin fellow with sandy hair and sandy moustaches to go with his complexion; he wore an enormous gold watchchain, and a worried frown. 'Mr Hilton.' He came round his desk, glancing from one to the other, hand outstretched. 'And Mr Hilton?'
'I am Richard Hilton,' Dick explained. 'This is my brother, Anthony.'
'Good heavens. Welcome, gentlemen, welcome. You have heard the sad news?'
'Your man just broke it to us,' Tony said. 'Uncle Robert dead? Why, it seems impossible.'
'Believe me, sir, all Jamaica is still holding its breath. But sit down, gentlemen, please. Charles, chairs. Look smart, man.'
The clerk hastily provided straight chairs for the two brothers, and Mr Reynolds resumed his seat behind his desk. 'You'll take a glass?'
'At five in the afternoon?' Dick asked.
'It might be an idea,' Tony said.
'Best madeira, I do assure you.' Reynolds nodded to Charles, and then placed his fingertips together, elbows on his desk, and gazed at the two men in front of him. 'Well, well, well. It was my father, you know, in this very office, who negotiated the sale of land to your mother and father, on which they built their church. The one Mr Robert Hilton burned down.'
'How did he die?' Dick asked.
'A fit. Oh, very sudden it was.' Reynolds filled three glasses, raised his own. 'I'm assured he felt no pain. Just collapsed and died. He was old. Old.' He peered into the liquid, then raised the glass again. 'We may drink to his soul. A fine man, Mr Hilton, a fine man. We could do with more of him.'
'Oh, indeed.' Tony sipped, glanced at his brother. 'He had invited us, that is, my brother, to join him on Hilltop.'
'Of course, of course. You were to learn the planting business, Mr Hilton. Ah, well, now is not the time to worry about that. Laidlaw is a good man. He'll show you the ropes.'
'Laidlaw?'
'Your late uncle's manager. You'll want to continue with the same staff, I imagine.'
'Continue with the same staff?' Dick asked. 'I don't understand.'
Reynolds frowned at him. 'You'll not sell the place?' 'You mean we could, if we wished?' Tony asked. 'Well. . . your brother could. Did your uncle not make it plain that you were his heir, Mr Hilton?'
'Why, no, not in so many words,' Dick said. 'His heir? Good Lord.'
'It is all here, in the will, Charles. Charles.'
'Here it is, Mr Reynolds.' Charles placed the folder in front of his employer.
'Ah.' Reynolds turned back the cardboard. 'Yes, indeed, a most straightforward document. But then, Mr Robert was like that. He knew what he wanted, and he never wasted time on words. Everything he owned, Hilltop, Green Grove, and every article on them, is bequeathed to Mr Richard Hilton.'
'Eh?' Tony cried.
Dick stared at the lawyer in consternation.
'That is all?' Tony demanded. 'He had other relatives.'
'Oh, indeed, sir,' Reynolds agreed. 'And some, ah . . . very good friends. But not one of them has been left a thing. Mr Robert had strong views on keeping wealth all in one hand. And then, no doubt he felt that Mr Richard Hilton would wish to make his own arrangements.'
Dick continued to stare at the lawyer. His brain seemed frozen. The owning of the plantations, the position of being the Hilton, had been a magnificent dream, something to linger over, a promise of the future. To have it happen, without any warning, was more than he had been prepared for.
'But that is outrageous,' Tony shouted. 'The will must be contested. Obviously Uncle Robert was not in his right mind.'
Reynolds' face became cold. 'I do assure you, sir, Mr Hilton was in full possession of all his faculties, up to the moment of his death.'
'Yet is it an act of insanity,' Tony insisted. 'Oh, we shall contest it.'
'You may do as you choose, sir,' Reynolds said. 'It will make no difference. This is Jamaica, sir, not England. A man can do what he likes with his possessions, sir, here. And no one could argue that both Hilltop and Green Grove were Mr Robert Hilton's possessions.'
'Why . . .' Tony's face was suffused with blood.
Dick had at last gathered his wits. Here was something he could cope with. 'Easy, Tony,' he said. 'We knew already that Uncle Robert was an odd fellow. But it can make no difference now that he is dead. We shall split the inheritance down the middle.'
'Well. . .' Tony seemed to recover some of his composure. 'I had really not supposed I would ever have to accept your charity, Dick. But of course it is the most equitable arrangement.'
'No doubt you can draw up a suitable document, Mr Reynolds,' Dick said.
'Ah, well, sir,' Reynolds said, looking distinctly disapproving. 'I'm afraid that will not be possible. I have told you that Mr Robert Hilton was against any tendency to split the estates. And indeed it is specifically stated in the will that the Hilton estates are not to be divided . . .'
'But we are brothers,' Dick protested. 'The property will remain Hilton.'
'Even between brothers, sir. It goes back a long time, but was the decision of Captain Christopher Hilton, who founded the Hilton wealth, you may remember, sir. Captain Hilton married twice, and had a son by each marriage, but yet left the plantations entirely to his son by his first wife, Marguerite, although with instructions that that son, whose name, as I recall, was also Anthony, was to employ and take care of his half-brother. That tradition has existed to this day, and you may recall, Mr Hilton, that your father, Mr Matthew Hilton, was employed as a manager by Mr Robert before their quarrel, but, belonging as he did to the junior branch of the family, he had no share in the plantations themselves.'
'Are you trying to say that while the plantations are mine, they are not mine to dispose of, should I wish?'
'Let me see the will,' Tony said.
Reynolds handed over the document, and smiled at Dick. 'They are yours, sir. And you may dispose of them. But by the provisions of Mr Robert Hilton's will, should you decide to sell them, you must discover a purchaser who will take th
e entire estate; i.e. both plantations together. Similarly, you may bequeath them to whomsoever you choose, on your death, but they must be passed on in their entirety, as well.'
'That is what it says,' Tony agreed. 'Well, I seem to be destitute.' His voice was quiet enough, but there could be no doubting his anger.
'Oh, fiddlesticks,' Dick declared. 'So legally I cannot make you my equal partner. Be sure that you will be my equal partner. You cannot prevent that, Mr Reynolds.'
'Indeed not, sir. You and your brother can come to whatever private arrangement you choose, providing you remember that any business transactions made with regard to the plantations must be conducted in your name and yours alone.'
HF - 04 - Black Dawn Page 7
