‘I think I’ve just fallen in love.’ I cradled the bowl and inhaled. The clench of fear in my stomach was unknotting in the steam; surely a crew intending to do away with me would not bother to pamper me first?
‘Hear that, Kai? The lady likes your brew.’ Tivern appeared to be enjoying the simple pleasure I was taking in the first decent cup I’d had since Philadelphia. From his bemused expression, I think he couldn’t quite believe that he was being so kind to me. Long might it last.
Kai touched his heart. ‘Missy have good taste. Not like them.’ He gestured to his crewmates.
‘We give him a lot of grief for refusing to drink rum,’ explained Tivern, propping himself against the rail and taking another swig.
Kai squatted down beside me. ‘I only one not a drunken sot.’
I took another gulp, marvelling at the contrasts this day had brought. At one moment, this crew had been the enemy, chasing me up the mast at sword-point; next they were my captors, dragging me off my ship; now they were discussing the virtues of tea-drinking as if I were a treasured guest.
‘Seems you’ve found a soul-mate, Kai,’ remarked Tivern. ‘How do you fancy an extra pair of hands in the galley?’
Kai inspected me then nodded.
‘So you’re not going to throw me to the sharks?’ I’d guessed as much but it was still a relief to have this confirmed.
‘Not yet.’ Tivern toasted me with a third swig.
Unfortunately, it was at this moment that an old acquaintance arrived – the man who had pursued me along the yardarm.
‘Captain, seems like the Medici is following us after all,’ said the bosun, casting an unfriendly look at me. ‘P’rhaps we’ve got something they want back.’
‘Maybe.’ Tivern took the offered spyglass and trained it on the sails just appearing over the horizon behind us.
‘We could leave her for them to pluck out the water.’
‘She can’t swim and I won’t wait for them to get so close again,’ Tivern said with an air of finality.
‘So what if she drowns?’ The bosun had not forgotten or forgiven the bruise I’d given him with the rifle butt. ‘She won’t be the first.’
‘I thought you said you didn’t hurt girlies,’ I said accusingly, putting down my tea in preparation to resist any attempt to chuck me over the side. If necessary, I was planning to cling like a barnacle to Tivern’s leg.
Tivern roared with laughter. ‘He told you that, did he?’
‘He did. And I’m sure he’s an honourable man – a man of his word.’ I scowled at the bosun.
‘Are you saying you doubt my honour?’ the bosun challenged.
‘No. Will you give me reason to change my opinion?’
Tivern clapped his hand on the rail. ‘She’s got you there, Mickey. If you hurt her, you’re dishonoured. How on earth did she wriggle round that one so fast?’
I began to feel more confident. From the relaxed stances of the three men it was apparent that the bosun’s threat was not about to be carried out. In fact, it occurred to me that I was strangely at home among this group of cutthroats. They reminded me of my friends in London, the same ease of a gang that had known each other for a long time, through good times and bad.
‘I’m a wriggler, you say? That’s no mystery – I grew up in London. It’ll be all those jellied eels I ate when I was little.’
‘Well, you’re not so big now.’ Tivern pulled me to my feet. I only came up to his chest. ‘’Bout the height of my daughter when I last clapped eyes on her. She lives in London too.’
‘Wish I still did,’ I said, thinking of my snug berth in the Sparrow’s Nest.
‘’Fraid I’m not going that way, minnow. Too many enemies waiting for me.’
I sighed. ‘Oh well, it was worth a try.’
‘I thought we threw the little ones back,’ grumbled the bosun, but he too appeared to be mellowing towards me.
Tivern shook his head. ‘Not this one. We’ll take her to our next port, then let her go. For now, let’s put our minds to giving the Frog-pirate the slip.’
My future on board the Merry Meg decided, I followed Kai to the galley. I had not even bothered to ask Tivern to try to return me to the Medici. After Captain Bonaventure had cheerfully traded me for the rifles, I trusted him even less than this bunch of smugglers. It was enough for now that no one appeared to be planning to harm me – a nice change – and that I had some allies on board in the captain and the cook. I would worry later what to do when I was cast off in a strange port with no more than the clothes on my back. At least I had my cat necklace tucked away under my shirt – that should fetch something if I was desperate.
Touching the pendant, I wondered what Billy was doing now. If the Medici was following, it was possible that he had managed to bribe Bonaventure once more in an attempt to rescue me. But as the distance between the two ships increased, that looked increasingly doubtful. The Medici did not act as if determined to waylay us; she merely looked to be heading in roughly the same direction. After a while, she dropped below the horizon. I found myself worrying about Billy and Jenny – would they be all right? I laughed sardonically when I caught myself at it, chewing my lip as I stood at the rail scanning the ocean. I had never imagined I would ever be anxious about Billy Shepherd of all people.
‘Little missy, are you going to dream all day?’ Kai called from the galley. ‘There is work to do.’
Feeling hungry after my adventures, I was more than happy to be cook’s mate. We spent a couple of sociable hours preparing the food on deck in the sunshine before he chucked it all in a big pan sizzling with oil. The actual cooking took no time at all. Kai’s method impressed me immensely – it was just the sort to suit my impulsive nature. Now I saw that it was possible to prepare a meal in this way, I wondered why anyone bothered with baking.
As the crew settled down around us to eat, I filled my own bowl from the pan.
‘Where did you learn to cook like this?’ I asked, savouring the gingery taste of the chicken meat. I was using a spoon but Kai was picking his meal up with two long sticks like extensions to his fingers. I’d never met anyone from so far away before and his exotic habits intrigued me.
‘I come from China – this how we eat.’
‘So fast?’
‘Yes.’ He shovelled in a clump of rice, speaking with his mouth full. ‘Tell me how little missy get on board bad Frog ship.’
We passed the next few hours sipping green tea and recounting tales of my recent travels interspersed with anecdotes from Kai’s epic journeys. The off-duty men who lounged within earshot chipped in with the odd comment or joke, usually at Kai’s expense, but he gave as good as he got. No one was spared a taste of the crew’s cruelly friendly banter – if you were ignored, that meant they didn’t see you as one of them. So I decided it was comforting rather than insulting when they started referring to me as the freckle-faced midget and other less flattering names.
The stars had been lit for the curtain-up of night by the time we finished clearing away from supper, the sky an astonishing display that put any spectacle created by the theatre to shame. The ship’s bell rang, the signal to turn in. Kai led me below deck. Those not on watch were slinging their hammocks and removing their boots in preparation for sleep.
‘Little missy hang her hammock next to mine,’ Kai announced, pointing out two hooks in the ceiling of the lower deck. ‘Captain, he decide he like you, but not all crew can be trusted.’ He drew his finger across his throat in an expressive gesture.
Casting nervous looks at the men, some already snoring in their bunks, I hung mine as instructed. All too aware how the tolerant mood could change in a blink of an eye, I was grateful to accept Kai’s protection. Thus, swinging gently next to the Chinaman, I fell asleep dreaming of his stories of pandas and pagodas.
The following evening we made landfall off the north coast of San Domingo to rendezvous the rebels waiting for their guns. I guessed my time on board the Meg was coming to an e
nd.
‘Are you going to leave me here, Captain?’ I asked Tivern as he supervised the unloading of his cargo.
He patted my head absent-mindedly. ‘I don’t think so, minnow. There is no “here”. This is as far from “here” as you can get. No port, no ships to take you home.’
I watched the boats rowing to shore. In the darkness with only the moonlight to show the way, men dashed out from the trees to help haul the keels on to the beach. A line formed to pass the cargo so it could be packed on the backs of a dozen mules – all done without a word being spoken. A tall man stood to one side directing operations, a dark silhouette against the pale sand.
‘Who are these people?’
‘The rebel leader Toussaint’s men. I don’t think they’re going to be too pleased when they realize I’ve only brought them half what they paid for.’ But Tivern didn’t seem to be worried by this. He filled a pipe, struck a spark and began to smoke calmly, blowing the fumes into the air to disperse the humming mosquitoes.
‘Will they do anything – anything bad, I mean – when they find out?’ I asked anxiously.
‘No. They need me too much. They’re in a desperate way and I’m one of the few prepared to stick my neck out and get them what they want.’
I looked at Tivern with new respect: I hadn’t expected this noble side to his character.
‘So I take it you hate slavery too then?’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘No, little’un, it’s the way of the world. I have no quarrel with it.’
‘Oh. Then why help the rebels?’
‘Damn good money, that’s why.’ He scratched his belly lazily.
I mentally scratched out ‘noble’ from my list of Tivern’s attributes, sticking with mercenary.
Shipment complete, the man who had directed the offloading on the beach came on board to complete payment. He must have been at least six feet tall and carried himself like a soldier on parade. With his shaven head and sharp eyes, he made an imposing leader, despite his tattered clothes.
‘Monsieur Tivern, you have tricked us!’ he announced angrily as soon as his foot hit the deck. ‘General Toussaint will not be pleased!’
‘Not at all, sir,’ Tivern drawled. ‘It was a blasted Frog who took your guns.’
The rebel scowled, finding Tivern’s English hard to follow. ‘Who is this “frog” you speak of?’
Recalling my fluent French, the smuggler decided to save himself the bother and waved me forward. ‘Minnow, explain to the man what happened.’
I rapidly acquainted the soldier with the pertinent points of our encounter the previous day.
‘And if you still need the arms, sir,’ I added on my own account, ‘I imagine Captain Bonaventure would be happy to sell them to you. He has no loyalty but to money and his ship is heading this way.’
The soldier gave me a surprised look, followed by a curt nod. ‘Thank you, mademoiselle.’
He was about to leave but I couldn’t pass up this chance – I wouldn’t get a better one.
‘Sir, do you know if a boy called Pedro has joined you recently?’
He reassessed me contemptuously. It was clear in his estimation I had quite cancelled out my good deed of tipping him off about Bonaventure. ‘Runaway slave of yours, is he?’ he asked coolly.
‘No!’ I made a move towards him but drew up short when I saw his hostile expression warning me off. ‘He’s my friend. You might know him because he plays the violin like an angel.’
The soldier paused, examining my face more closely. ‘I know him. What of it?’
‘Is he safe?’
‘None of us are safe. This is a rebellion, mademoiselle, not a tea-party.’
I glanced at Tivern, who was following the gist of our conversation with a frown, then turned back. ‘Will you take me to him?’
Tivern stepped forward. ‘Not a good idea, minnow. You’ll be heading into a war.’
‘Why you want to see him so badly?’ the soldier asked, running a hand over his bald head a little wearily. I could see that I was a complication he could well do without.
‘I just want to find him, see that he is all right.’
The soldier appeared to accept this. ‘I’ll take you – if you come immediately. I’ve not got time to waste.’
‘I’m ready now.’ I nodded to my abductor. ‘That’s the benefit of travelling with no luggage.’
The soldier turned away, but added as an afterthought over his shoulder, ‘Be warned: make any move against us and I’ll kill you.’
Tivern took me aside as the rebel disembarked. ‘Are you sure about this, minnow? I can take you to a proper port. Don’t seem right to let a little lady go gallivanting off with the likes of them.’
‘I’m not sure of anything, Captain Tivern, but I came all this way to find Pedro so I’d better go ahead and finish it.’ I reflected a moment, then went up on tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the cheek. ‘You’re not as mean as you make out, did you know that?’
He looked sheepish. ‘Don’t let on or my name will be mud.’
‘I won’t.’ I bowed to Kai then kissed him also. ‘Thank you for everything.’
‘You mad girl,’ Kai said, shaking his head.
‘I know.’
He pressed a little packet in my hand.
‘What’s this?’
‘The best medicine.’
An order to hurry was shouted from the boat. I clambered swiftly over the side and dropped down near the bow. As the rowers took us to shore, I sniffed my present.
Green tea!
The journey from the coast to the rebels’ base was far more arduous than I had anticipated. I hadn’t thought much beyond getting on dry land but, of course, I should have realized that the slaves had to hide far from the centres of white men’s power. This meant a long, foot-blistering tramp into the highlands, travelling mainly in the dark. Once the soldier – called Colonel Deforce by his men – had agreed to my presence, he appeared to forget all about me, assuming I’d either keep up or give up. It was all the same to him – he had an army to think about. He organized the arms train so that most of the guards were deployed as scouts on either side of the little trail we were following, checking ahead and behind for problems. I had only to look at their grim faces when they came back to realize that they were serious about the likelihood of meeting with trouble – another aspect of the journey to which, in my ignorance, I hadn’t given much thought. As I counted my blisters each night, Reader, I reflected that my recklessness had gone too far this time. What was I going to do if it came to a skirmish?
Feeling the acute need for an ally in this crowd of warlike strangers, I made friends with the man in charge of the mules, a kind-looking runaway from Le Cap. With twinkling brown eyes and a smile that could light up a dark room, he walked with a limp at a pace that I could match. After boldly introducing myself, we shook hands. As our palms clasped, I noticed that his right hand was maimed.
‘Don’t mind that,’ said Caesar, my new friend, when he caught me flinching. His French was good – he’d obviously had some schooling. He tucked his hand into his jacket pocket. ‘I lost several fingers to my old master; it could’ve been worse.’
Shocked as I was by the cruelty of slavery, I was also impressed by the man’s acceptance of the lot life had dealt him.
‘He sounds a nasty tyrant,’ I commented.
‘That he was. I bided my time. He could take my fingers as a punishment but he couldn’t steal my thoughts. When Toussaint and the others put the call out to rebel, I was ready.’
I prodded a mule away from a bush that it had taken a fancy to in large mouthfuls. As usual it was the most stubborn of the creatures, the one that I’d christened Mr Pitt in honour of our illustrious British prime minister. ‘No you don’t, Mr Pitt, no time for that now. I think that was very brave of you, Caesar, to join up. And your family? Are they safe?’
‘Don’t have no family, mademoiselle. The only girl I cared for was sold on to another master.
I hope we’ll find each other again, but I doubt it.’
His company greatly lightened the hours spent walking. I think I would have been forced to give up if he hadn’t extended the care he showed to his animals to me. The sole of my shoe disintegrated halfway through the second day. Caesar walked barefoot on big leathery feet but refused to allow me to do the same.
‘It takes a good few years to toughen up, mademoiselle. Your feet will be in shreds if you risk it and you’ll never keep up with us.’ Perching me on the back of an obliging mule, he cobbled together a temporary solution with a piece of bridle and a bit of bark stripped from a tree. ‘That should last for a day or two.’
‘I am most obliged to you, Caesar.’
‘My pleasure, mademoiselle.’
A shrill whistle echoed from the trees ahead. Without a word, Caesar turned swiftly and led the mules from the path. We plunged into the cover of the undergrowth, shielded by the broad rubbery leaves and trailing vines. With wide eyes, I tapped his arm, making a silent enquiry as to what was going on. He shook his head and put a finger to his lips. I guessed that meant that we had company. A shot creased the canopy overhead, bringing foliage fluttering down upon us, soon followed by more gunfire, cracking away in the distance like a Vauxhall Gardens fireworks display. If only it had so peaceable an explanation. Pushing me to the ground, Caesar tugged his rifle off the lead mule and crawled on his belly to the edge of the road. My heart pounding, mouth full of dirt, I lay as still as possible, praying that this would soon be over.
A shot rang out much closer now and Mr Pitt, the stubborn mule, took it into its head to panic. Pulling on the tether that bound it to the animal in front, it began to drag the string of mules into a jogging trot towards the road. It was like watching the inexorable slide of pearls tumbling off a broken necklace as each animal caught the fear and jerked into flight. Caesar spun round too late to catch Mr Pitt. Someone had to do something or the rifles would be in enemy hands. Without thinking, I leapt to my feet, dashed to the head of the line and threw my arms around the foolish creature’s neck, fumbling for the bridle to turn it before it reached the open and got shot to pieces. Too late. Mr Pitt staggered on to the road and the bullets ripped into the ground around us. One ball struck the mule in the shoulder and the creature went down so quickly that it crushed me under it, my legs trapped. Jerking and braying in agony, poor Mr Pitt tried to struggle up but the wound was mortal. Still the bullets pinged around us, spraying me with dirt and chips of stone.
Black Heart of Jamaica Page 18
