Ruyters eyed him in silence for a moment. The rhythmic creaking of the boards sounded through the smoky gloom of the cabin. Finally he spoke. "Let's be plain. What are they paying you?""I told you." Winston reached for the flask. "I've spoken toBedford, and I'm planning a deal for sugar contracts. I'll take it out in trade later."Ruyters slammed down his own tankard. "God's wounds, they could just as well have talked to some of us! I'll warrant the Dutch bottoms here've got enough ordnance to fortify both of the breastworks along the west coast." He looked up. "There're a good dozen merchantmen anchored in the bay right now. And we've all got some ordnance. I've even got a fine set of brass nine-pounders they could borrow.""I'd as soon keep this an English matter for now. There's no need for you Dutchmen to get involved." Winston emptied the flask into his tankard. "The way I see it, I can fortify the breastwork up on the Point with what I've got on board. It'll help them hold off Cromwell's fleet for a while, maybe soften the terms." He turned and tossed the bottle out the open stern window. "Which is just enough to get me signatures on some contracts. Then I take back the guns and Cromwell can have the place.""What the pox, it's a free trade matter, sir. We've all got a stake in it." Ruyters' look darkened. He thought of the profits he had enjoyed over the years trading with the English settlements. He'd sold household wares, cloth, and liquor to colonists in Virginia and the Caribbees, and he'd shipped back toEuropewith furs and tobacco fromNorth America, cotton and dye woods from theCaribbean. Like all Dutch fluyts, his ship was specially built to be lightly manned, enabling him to consistently undercut English shippers. Then too, he and the other Dutch traders made a science of stowage and took better care of their cargos. They could always sell cheaper, give longer credits, and offer lower freight rates than any English trader could. But now that they had slaves to swap for sugar, there would finally be some real profits. "I can't speak for the other men here, but it'd be no trouble for me to lend them a few guns too. . . . And I'd be more than willing to take payment in sugar contracts. Maybe you could mention it privately toBedford. It'd have to be unofficial, if they're going to be using Dutch guns against the English navy.""I'm not sure why I'd want to do that.""As a gentleman, sir. We both have a stake in keeping free trade. Maybe you could just drop a word toBedfordand ask him to bring it up with the Assembly. Tell him we might mislay a few culverin, if he could arrange to have some contracts drawn up.""What's in it for me?""We'll strike an arrangement, sir. Word of honor." Ruyters look brightened. "To be settled later. When I can return the favor.""Maybe you can do something for me now . . . if I agree.""You can name it, sir.""I've been thinking I could use a good bosun's mate. How about letting me have that crippled Spaniard on theZeelanderif you've still got him? What's his name . . . the one who had a limp after that fall from the yardarm when we were tacking in toNevis?""You don't mean Vargas?""Armando Vargas, that's the one."Ruyters squinted through the dim light. "He's one of the handiest lads aloft I've got, bad leg or no. A first-rate yardman.""Well, I think I'd like to take him on.""I didn't know you were short-handed, sir.""That's my bargain." Winston walked back to the window. "Let me have him and I'll see what I can do about talking toBedford.""I suppose you remember he used to be a navigator of sorts for the Spaniards. For that matter, I'll wager he knows as much as any man you're likely to come across about their shipping in theWindward Passageand their fortifications over there on theMain." Ruyters' eyes narrowed. "Damn my soul, what the devil are you planning?""I can always use a good man." He laughed. "Those are my terms.""You're a lying rogue, I'll stake my life." He shoved back his chair. "But I still like the bargain, for it all. You’ve got a man. HaveBedfordraise our matter with the Assembly.""I'll see what I can do. Only it's just between us for now, till we see how many guns they need.""It goes without saying." Ruyters rose and extended his hand. "So we'll shake on it. A bargain sealed." He bowed. "Your servant, sir."Winston pushed open the cabin door and followed him down the companionway to the waist of the ship. Ruyters' shallop was moored alongside, its lantern casting a shimmering light across the waves. The oarsmen bustled to station when they saw him emerge. He bowed again, then swung heavily down the rope ladder.Winston stood pensively by the railing, inhaling the moist evening air and watching as the shallop's lantern slowly faded into themidnight. Finally he turned and strolled up the companionway to the quarterdeck.Miss Katherine Bedford should be pleased, he told himself. In any case, better they borrow Dutch guns than mine. Not that the extra ordnance will make much difference if Cromwell posts a fleet of warships with trained gunners. With these planters manning their cannon, the fleet will make short work of the island.He started back for the cabin, then paused to watch the moonlight breaking over the crests and listen to the rhythmic pound of light surf along the shore. He looked back at the island and asked himself if Katherine's was a cause worth helping. Not if theAmericasend up the province of a few rich slaveholders—which onBarbadoshas got to be sure as the sunrise. So just hold your own course, and let this island get whatever it deserves.He glanced over the ship and reflected again on his preparations, for the hundredth time. It wouldn't be easy, but the plan was coming together. The sight drafts were still safely locked away in the Great Cabin, ready for delivery day after tomorrow, when the transfer of the indentures became official. And the work of outfitting the ship for transport of men was all but finished. The gun deck had been cleared, with the spare budge barrels of powder and the auxiliary round shot moved to the hold, permitting sleeping hammocks to be lashed up for the new men. Stores of salt fish, cheese, and biscuit had been assembled in a warehouse facing Carlisle Bay; and two hundred half pikes had been forged, fitted with staffs, and secured in the fo'c'sle, together with all of Anthony Walrond's new flintlock muskets.Everything was ready. And now he finally had a pilot. Armando Vargas had madeJamaicaharbor a dozen times back when he sailed with the Spaniards; he always liked to brag about it. Once he’d even described in detail the lookout post on a hilltop somewhere west ofJamaicaBay. If they could slip some men past those sentries on the hill, the fortress and town would fall before the Spaniards' militia even suspected they were around.Then maybe he would take out time to answer the letter that'd just come fromEngland.He turned and nodded to several of the men as he moved slowly back down the companionway and into the comforting quiet of the cabin. He'd go up to Joan's tavern after a while, share a last tankard, and listen to that laugh of hers as he spun out the story of Ruyters and the guns. But now he wanted solitude. He'd always believed he thought best, worked best, alone.He closed the large oak door of the Great Cabin, then walked to the windows aft and studied the wide sea. TheCaribbeanwas home now, the only home left. If there was any question of that before, there wasn't anymore, not after the letter.He stood a moment longer, then felt for the small key he always kept in his left breeches pocket. Beneath a board at the side of the cabin was a movable panel, and behind it a heavy door, double secured. The key slipped easily into the metal locks, and he listened for the two soft clicks.Inside were the sight bills, just visible in the flickering light of the lantern, and next to them was a stack of shipping invoices. Finally there was the letter, its outside smeared with grease and the red wax of its seal cracked and half missing. He slipped it out and unfolded it along the creases, feeling his anger well up as he settled to read it one more time.Sir (I shall never again have the pleasure to address you as my obedient son),After many years of my thinking you perished, there has late come word you are abroad in the Caribbees, a matter long known to certain others but until this day Shielded from me, for reasons I now fully Comprehend. The Reputation I find you have acquired brings me no little pain, being that (so I am now advis’d) of a Smuggler and Brigand.He paused to glance out the stern window once again, remembering how the letter had arrived in the mail packet just delivered by theRotterdam. It was dated two months past, and it had been deposited at Joan's tavern along with several others intended for seamen known to make port inBarbados.Though I had these many long years thought you dead by the hands of the Spaniard, yet I prayed unceasing to God it should not be so. Now, upon hearing News of what you have become, I am constrained to question God's will. In that you have brought Ignominy to my name, and to the name of those other two sons of mine, both Dutiful, I can find no room for solace, nor can they.He found his mind going back to memories of William and James, both older. He'd never cared much for either of them, and they'd returned his sentiment in full measure. William was the first—heavy set and slow of wit, with a noticeable weakness for sherry. Since the eldest son inherited everything, he had by now doubtless taken charge of the two thousand acres that was Winston Manor, becoming a country squire who lived off rents from his tenants. And what of James, that nervous image of Lord Harold Winston and no less ambitious and unyielding? Probably by now he was a rich barrister, the profession he’d announced for himself sometime about age ten. Or maybe he’d stood for Parliament, there to uphold the now-ended cause of King Charles.That a son of mine should become celebrated in the Americas for his contempt of Law brings me distress beyond the telling of it. Though I reared you with utmost care and patience, I oft had cause to ponder if you should ever come to any good end, being always of dissolute and unruly inclination. Now I find your Profession has been to defraud the English crown, to which you should be on your knees in Reverence, and to injure the cause of honest Merchants, who are the lifeblood of this Christian nation. I am told your name has even reached the ears of His Majesty, causing him no small Dismay, and adding to his distresses at a time when the very throne of England is in peril from those who would, as you, set personal gain above loyalty and obedience. . . .He stopped, not wanting to read more, and crumpled the letter.That was the end ofEngland. Why would he want to go back? Ever? If there’d once been a possibility, now it was gone. The time had come to plant roots in theNew World. So what better placethanJamaica? And damned toEngland. He turned again to the stern windows, feeling the end of all the unease that had come and gone over the years. This was it.But afterJamaica, what? He was all alone. A white cloud floated past the moon, with a shape like the beakhead of a ship. For a moment it was a gargoyle, and then it was the head of a white horse. . . .He had turned back, still holding the paper, when he noticed the sound of distant pops, fragile explosions, from the direction of the Point. He walked, puzzling, back to the safe and was closing the door, the key already in the lock, when he suddenly stopped.The Assembly Room was somewhere near Lookout Point, just across the bay. It was too much of a coincidence.With a silent curse he reached in and felt until his hand closed around the leather packet of sight bills, the ones he would exchange for the indentures. Under them were the other papers he would need, and he took those too. Then he quickly locked the cabinet and rose to make his way out to the companionway. As he passed the table, he reached for his pistols, checking the prime and shoving them into his belt as he moved out into the evening air.He moved aft to the quartergallery railing to listen again. Now there could be no mistaking. Up the hill, behind Lookout Point, there were flashes of light in the dark. Musket fire."What do you suppose it could be, Cap'n?" John Mewes appeared at the head of the companionway."Just pray it's not what I think it is. Or we may need some powder and shot ourselves." He glanced back toward the hill. "Sound general muster. Every man on deck.""Aye." Mewes turned and headed for the quarterdeck.Even as the bell was still sounding, seamen began to appear through the open hatch, some half dressed and groggy. Others were mumbling that their dice game had been interrupted. Winston met them on the main deck, and slowly they formed a ragged column facing him. Now there was more gunfire from the hill, unmistakable."I'm going to issue muskets." He walked along the line, checking each seaman personally. Every other man seemed to be tipsy. "To every man here that's sober. We're going ashore, and you'll be under my command.""Beggin' yor pardon, Cap'n, what's all that commotion up there apt to be?" A grizzled seaman peered toward the sounds as he finished securing the string supporting his breeches."It might just be the inauguration of a new Civil War, Hawkins." Winston's voice sounded down the deck. "So look lively. We collect on our sight bills. Tonight."Chapter SevenThe jagged peninsula known as Lookout Point projected off the southwestern tip ofBarbados, separating the windyAtlanticon the south from the calm of the leeward coast on the west. At its farthest tip, situated on a stone cliff that rose some hundred feet above the entrance toCarlisleBay, were the breastwork and gun emplacements. Intended for harbor defense only, its few projecting cannon all pointed out toward the channel leading into the bay, past the line of coral reefs that sheltered the harbor on its southern side.From the deck of theDefiance, at anchor near the river mouth and across the bay from the peninsula, the gunfire seemed to be coming from the direction of the new Assembly Room, a thatched-roof stone building up the hill beyond the breastwork. Constructed under the authority of Governor Dalby Bedford, it housed the General Assembly of Barbados, which consisted of two representatives elected from each of the eleven parishes on the island. All free men in possession of five acres or more could vote, ballots being cast at the parish churches.While Winston unlocked the gun racks in the fo'c'sle and began issuing the muskets and the bandoliers of powder and shot, John Mewes ordered the two longboats lashed amidships readied and launched. The seamen lined up single file at the doorway of the fo'c'sle to receive their muskets, then swung down the rope ladders and into the boats. Winston took his place in one and gave command of the other to John Mewes.As the men strained against the oars and headed across the bay, he studied the row of cannon projecting out over the moonlit sea from the top of the breastwork. They've never been used, he thought wryly, except maybe for ceremonial salutes. That's what they call harbor defenses! It's a mercy of God the island's so far windward from theMainthat the Spaniards've never troubled to burn the place out.He sat on the prow of the longboat, collecting his thoughts while he tasted the air and the scent of the sea. The whitecaps of the bay slipped past in the moonlight as they steered to leeward of the line of Dutch merchantmen anchored near the shore. He then noticed a bob of lanterns on the southeast horizon and realized it was an arriving merchantman, with a heading that would bring it directly into the harbor. He watched the lights awhile, marveling at the Dutch trading zeal that would cause a captain to steer past the reefs into the harbor in the hours aftermidnight. He congratulated himself he'd long ago given up trying to compete head-on with the Hollanders. They practically owned the English settlements in theAmericas. Scarce wonder Cromwell's first order of business was to be rid of them.The sound of the tide lapping against the beach as the two longboats neared the shore beneath the breastwork brought his attention back. When they scraped into the shallows, he dropped off the prow and waded through the knee-high surf that chased up the sand in wave after wave. Ahead the beach glistened white, till it gave way to the rocks at the base of the Point.John Mewes puffed along close at his heels, and after him came the first mate, Dick Hawkins, unshaven but alert, musket at the ready. Close behind strode tall Edwin Spune, master's mate, a musket in each hand, followed by the rest. In all, some twenty of Winston's men had crossed the bay with him. He ordered the longboats beached, then called the men together and motioned for quiet."Are all muskets primed?""Aye." Spurre stepped forward, holding his two muskets up as though for inspection. "An' every man's got an extra bandolier of powder an' shot. We're ready for whatever the whoresons try." He glanced up the rise, puzzled, still not understanding why the captain had assembled them. But Hugh Winston liked having his orders obeyed."Good." Winston walked down the line. "Spread out along the shore and wait. I'm going up to see what the shooting's about. Just stand ready till you hear from me. But if you see me fire a pistol shot, you be up that hill like Jack-be-nimble. Is that clear?""You mean us against all that bleedin' lot up there?" John Mewes squinted toward the dark rise. "There's apt to be half their militia up there, Cap'n, from the sound of it.""Did I hear you question an order, John? You know ship's rules. They go for officers too." He turned to the other men. "Should we call a vote right here?""God's life." Mewes pushed forward, remembering Winston's formula for discipline on theDefiance. He didn't even own a cat-o'nine-tails, the lash used by most ship captains for punishment. He never touched an offender. He always just put trial and punishment to a show of hands by the men—whose favorite entertainment was keelhauling any seaman who disobeyed Captain's orders, lashing a line to his waist and ducking him under the hull till he was half drowned. "I wasn't doin' no questioning. Not for a minute. I must've just been mumbling in my sleep.""Then try and stay awake. I'm going up there now, alone. But if I need you, you'd better be there, John. With the men. That's an order.""Aye." Mewes performed what passed for a salute, then cocked his musket with a flourish.Winston loosened the pistols in his belt, checked the packet containing the sight bills and the other papers he had brought, then headed directly up the rise. The approach to Lookout Point was deserted, but up the hill, behind a new stack of logs, he could see the shadowy outline of a crowd. The barricade, no more than fifty yards from the Assembly Room, was in the final stages of construction, as men with torches dragged logs forward. Others, militia officers, were stationed behind the logs with muskets and were returning pistol fire from the half-open doorway of the Assembly Room.Above the din he could hear the occasional shouts of Benjamin Briggs, who appeared to be in charge. Together with him were the members of the Council and officers from their regiments. The command of the militia was restricted to major landholders: a field officer had to own at least a hundred acres, a captain fifty, a lieutenant twenty-five, and even an ensign had to have fifteen.On the barricade were straw-hatted indentures belonging to members of the Council, armed only with pikes since the planters did not trust them with muskets. Winston recognized among them many whom he had agreed to take.The firing was sputtering to a lull as he approached. Then Briggs spotted him and yelled out. "You'd best be gone, sir. Before someone in the Assembly Room gets a mind to put a round of pistol shot in your breeches.""I'm not part of your little war.""That you're decidedly not, sir. So we'll not be requiring your services here tonight.""What's the difficulty?" Winston was still walking directly toward them."It's a matter of the safety ofBarbados. I've said it doesn't concern you.""Those indentures concern me. I don't want them shot.""Tell that to the Assembly, sir. We came here tonight offering to take Dalby Bedford under our care, peacefully. To protect him from elements on the island who're set to disown Parliament. But some of the hotheads in there mistook our peaceful purpose and opened fire on us.""Maybe they think they can 'protect' him better than you can." Another round of fire sounded from the doorway of the Assembly Room and thudded into the log barricade. When two of the planters cursed and fired back, the door was abruptly slammed shut."It's the Assembly that's usurped rightful rule here, sir, as tonight should amply show. When they no longer represent the true interests ofBarbados." Briggs glared at him. "We're restoring proper authority to this island, long overdue.""You and the Council can restore whatever you like. I'm just here to take care of my indentures, before you manage to have some of them killed.""They're not yours yet, sir. The situation's changed. We're not letting them go whilst the island's unsettled.""The only unsettling thing I see here are all those muskets." He reached into the pocket of his jerkin and lifted out the leather packet containing the sight drafts. "So we're going to make that transfer, right now.''"Well, I'm damned if you'll have a single man. This is not the time agreed." Briggs looked around at the other members of the Council. Behind them the crowd of indentures had stopped work to listen."The sight bills are payable on demand. We've settled the terms, and I'm officially calling them in." Winston passed over the packet. "You've got plenty of witnesses. Here're the sight bills. As of now, the indentures are mine." He pulled a sheaf of papers from the other pocket of his jerkin. ' 'You're welcome to look over the drafts while I start checking off the men."Briggs seized the leather packet and flung it to the ground. Then he lifted his musket. "These indentures are still under our authority. Until we say, no man's going to take them. Not even. . .”A series of musket shots erupted from the window of the Assembly Room, causing Briggs and the other planters to duck down behind the log barricade. Winston remained standing as he called out the first name on the sheet."Timothy Farrell."The red-faced Irishman climbed around Briggs and movedforward, his face puzzled. He remained behind the pile of logs as he hunkered down, still holding his half-pike."That's my name, Yor Worship. But Master Briggs . . .”"Farrell, here's the indenture contract we drew up for your transfer." Winston held out the first paper from the sheaf. "I've marked it paid and had it stamped. Come and get it and you're free to go.""What's this, Yor Worship?" He gingerly reached up for the paper and stared at it in the torchlight, uncomprehending. "I heard you was like to be buying out my contract. By my reckoning there's two more year left on it.""I did just buy it. It's there in your hand. You're a free man."Farrell sat staring at the paper, examining the stamped wax seal and attempting to decipher the writing. A sudden silence enveloped the crowd, punctuated by another round of musket fire from the Assembly Room. After it died away, Winston continued, "Now Farrell, if you'd care to be part of an expedition of mine that'll be leavingBarbadosin a few days' time, that's your privilege. Starting tonight, your pay'll be five shillings a week.""Beggin' Yor Worship's pardon, I reckon I'm not understandin' what you've said. You've bought this contract? An' you've already marked it paid?""With those sight bills." He pointed to the packet on the ground beside Briggs.Farrell glanced at the leather bundle skeptically. Then he looked back at Winston. "An' now you're sayin' I'm free?""It's stamped on that contract. Have somebody read it if you care to.""An' I can serve Yor Worship for wage if I like?" His voice began to rise."Five shillings a week for now. Maybe more later, if you . . .""Holy Mother Mary an' all the Saints!I'm free!" He crumpled the paper into his pocket, then leaped up as he flung his straw hat into the air. "Free! I ne'er thought I'd stay breathin' long enough to hear the word." He glanced quickly at the Assembly Room, then dismissed the danger as he began to dance beside the logs."At the dirty end o' Dirty Lane,Liv’d a dirty cobbler, Dick Maclane ...""That man still belongs to me." Briggs half cocked his musket as he rose.Farrell whirled and brandished his half-pike at the planter. "You can fry in hell, you pox-rotted bastard. I've lived on your corn mush an' water for three years, till I'm scarce able to stand. An' sweated sunup to sundown in your blazin' fields, hoein' your damn'd tobacco, and now your God-cursed cane. With not a farthing o' me own to show for it, or a change o' breeches. But His Worship says he's paid me out. An' his paper says I'm free. That means free as you are, by God. I'll be puttin' this pike in your belly—by God I will—or any man here, who says another word against His Worship. I'll serve him as long as I'm standin', or pray God to strike me dead." He gave another whoop. "Good Jesus, who's got a thirst! I'm free!""Jim Carroll." Winston's voice continued mechanically, sounding above the din that swept through the indentures."Present an' most humbly at Yor Worship's service." A second man elbowed his way forward through the cluster of Briggs' indentures, shoving several others out of his path."Here's your contract, Carroll. It's been stamped paid and you're free to go. Or you can serve under me if you choose. You've heard the terms.""I'd serve you for a ha'penny a year, Yor Worship." He seized the paper and gave a Gaelic cheer, a tear lining down one cheek. "I've naught to show for four years in the fields but aches an' an empty belly. I'll die right here under your command before I'd serve another minute under that whoreson.""God damn you, Winston." Briggs full-cocked his musket with an ominous click. "If you think I'll . . ."Carroll whirled and thrust his pike into Briggs' face. "It's free I am, by God. An' it's me you'll be killin' before you harm a hair o' His Worship, if I don't gut you first."Briggs backed away from the pike, still clutching his musket. The other members of the Council had formed a circle and cocked their guns."You don't own these damned indentures yet," Nicholas Whittington shouted. "We've not agreed to a transfer now.""You've got your sight drafts. Those were the terms. If you want these men to stay, tell it to them." He checked the sheaf of papers and yelled out the next name: "Tom Darcy." As a haggard man in a shabby straw hat pushed forward, Winston turned back to the huddle that was the Council. "You're welcome to offer them a wage and see if they'd want to stay on. Since their contracts are all stamped paid, I don't have any say in it anymore.""Well, I have a say in it, sir." Whittington lifted his musket. "I plan to have an end to this knavery right now, before it gets out of hand. One more word from you, and it'll be your . . ."Winston looked up and yelled to the crowd of indentures. "I gather you've heard who's on the list. If those men'll come up, you can have your papers. Your contracts are paid, and you're free to go. Any man who chooses to serve under me can join me here now.''Whittington was knocked sprawling by the surge of the crowd, as straw hats were flung into the air. A milling mob of indentures waving half-pikes pressed forward.Papers from the sheaf in Winston's hand were passed eagerly through the ranks. The Council and the officers of their militia had drawn together for protection, still grasping their muskets.In the confusion no one noticed the shaft of light from the doorway of the Assembly Room that cut across the open space separating it from the barricade. One by one the members of the Assembly gingerly emerged to watch. Leading them was Anthony Walrond, wearing a brocade doublet and holding a long flintlock pistol, puzzlement in his face.Briggs finally saw them and whirled to cover the Assemblymen with his musket. "We say deliver upBedfordor there'll be hell to pay, I swear it!""Put down that musket, you whoreson." Farrell gave a yell and threw himself across the barrel of the gun, seizing the muzzle and shoving it in to the dirt. There was a loud report as it discharged, exploding at the breech and spewing burning powder into the night."Christ Almighty." Walrond moved out into the night and several men from the Assembly trailed after him, dressed in plain doublets and carrying pistols. "What the devil's this about?""Nothing that concerns you." Winston dropped a hand to one of the guns in his belt. "I'd advise you all to go back inside till I'm finished.""We were just concluding a meeting of the Assembly, sir." Walrond examined Winston icily, then glanced toward the men of the Council. "When these rogues tried to commandeer the room, claiming they'd come to seize the governor, to 'protect' him. I take it you're part of this conspiracy.""I'm here to protect my interests. Which gives me as much right as you have to be here. I don't recall that you're elected to this body.''"I'm here tonight in an advisory capacity, Captain, not that it's any of your concern." Walrond glanced back at the others, all warily holding pistols. "To offer my views regarding the situation inEngland." As he spoke Dalby Bedford emerged from the crowd. Walking behind him was Katherine.Winston turned to watch, thinking she was even more beautiful than he had realized before. Her face was radiant, self- assured as she moved through the dim torchlight in a glistening skirt and full sleeves. She smiled and pushed toward him."Captain Winston, are you to be thanked for all this confusion?""Only a part of it, Miss Bedford. I merely stopped by toenquire about my indentures, since I got the idea some of your Assemblymen were shooting at them."Anthony Walrond stared at Katherine. "May I take it you know this man? It does you no credit, madam, I warrant you." Then he turned and moved down the path, directly toward Briggs and the members of the Council. "And I can tell all of you this night is far from finished. There'll be an accounting here, sirs, you may depend on it. Laws have been violated.""You, sir, should know that best of all." Briggs stepped forward and dropped his hand to the pistol still in his belt. "Since you and this pack of royalist agitators that calls itself an Assembly would unlawfully steer this island to ruin. The Council of Barbados holds that this body deserves to be dissolved forthwith, and new elections held, to represent the interests of the island against those who'd lead us into a fool's war with theCommonwealthofEngland.""You, sir, speak now in the very same voice as the rebels there. I presume you'd have this island bow to the criminals in Parliament who're now threatening to behead our lawful king.""Gentlemen, please." Dalby Bedford moved between them and raised his hand. "I won't stand for this wrangling. We all have to try to settle our differences like Englishmen. I, for one, would have no objection to inviting the Council to sit with us in the Assembly, have a joint session, and try to reason out what's the wisest course now.""I see no reason this body need share a table with a crowd of rebels who'll not bend a knee to the rightful sovereign ofEngland." Walrond turned back to the members of the Assembly. "I say you should this very night draw up a loyalty oath forBarbados. Any man who refuses to swear fealty to His Majesty should be deported back to England, to join the traitors who would unlawfully destroy the monarchy.''"No!" Katherine abruptly pushed in front of him. "This island stayed neutral all through the Civil War. We never took a part, either for king or Parliament. Why should we take sides now, with the war over and finished?"Walrond looked down at her, startled. "Because the time has come to stand and be counted, Katherine. Why do you suppose? The rebels may have seizedEnglandfor now, but that's no reason we in theAmericashave to turn our back on the king.""But there's another choice." She drew a deep breath. Winston saw determination in her eyes as she turned to face the men of the Assembly. "Think about it. We never belonged toEngland; we belonged to the Crown. But the monarchy's been abolished and the king's patents invalidated. I say we should join with the other English settlements and declare theAmericasa new nation.Barbadosshould lead the way and declare our own independence.""That's the damnedest idea I've ever heard." Briggs moved forward, shaking away the indentures who still crowded around him menacingly. "If we did that, there'd be war for sure. We've got to stay English, or Cromwell'll send the army to burn us out." He turned to Walrond. "Rebel or no, Cromwell represents the might ofEngland. We'd be fools to try to stand against him. Either for king or for some fool dream of independence." He looked back at Katherine. "Where'd you get such an idea, girl? It'd be the end of our hopes for prosperity if we tried going to war withEngland. There'd be no room to negotiate.""You, sir, have no say in this. You're apt to be on trial for treason before the week's out." Walrond waved his pistol at Briggs, then turned back to Katherine. "What are you talking about?Englandis beholden to her king, madam, much the way, I might remind you, a wife is to her husband. Or don't you yet understand that? It's our placeto revere and serve the monarchy.""As far as I'm concerned, the king's only a man. And so's a husband, sir.""A wife takes an oath in marriage, madam, to obey her husband. You'd best remember that." He turned and motioned the members of the Assembly to gather around him as he stepped over to a large log and mounted it. "On the subject of obedience, I say again an oath of loyalty to His Majesty King Charles should be voted in the Barbados Assembly this very morning. We need to know where this island stands." He stared back at Dalby Bedford. "Much as a husband would do well to know what he can expect when he takes a wife.""You've got no authority to call a vote by the Assembly," Briggs sputtered. "You're not elected to it." He looked at Walrond, then atBedford. "This, by God, was the very thing we came here tonight to head off.""You, sir, have no authority to interfere in the lawful processes of this body." Walrond turned back to the Assembly members, now huddled in conference.Winston looked at Katherine and found himself admiring her idealism—and her brass, openly defying the man she was supposed to marry. She wanted independence for theAmericas, he now realized, while all Anthony Walrond wanted was to turnBarbadosinto a government in exile for the king, maybe to someday restore his fortune inEngland. She was an independent woman herself too, make no mistaking. Sir Anthony Walrond was going to have himself a handful in the future, with the Commonwealth and with her.Come to think of it, though, independence wasn't all that bad an idea. Why the hell not? Damned toEngland."I think there've been enough high-handed attempts to take over this island for one night.'' He moved to confront Walrond."You have your brass, Captain, to even show your face here." He inspected Winston with his good eye. "When you pillaged a ship of mine offNevisIsland, broadcloth and muskets, no more than two years past.""Now that you've brought it up, what I did was save the lives of some fifty men who were about to drown for want of a seaworthy longboat. Since you saved so much money on equipage, I figured you could afford to compensate me for my pains.""It was theft, sir, by any law.""Then the law be hanged.""Hardly a surprising sentiment, coming from you." Walrond shifted his pistol toward Winston's direction. "You should be onTortuga, with the other rogues of your own stripe, rather than here onBarbadosamongst honest men. Your profession, Captain, has trained you best for the end of a rope.""What's yours trained you for?" He stood unmoving. "Get yourself elected to the Assembly, then make your speeches. I'm tired of hearing about your king. In truth, I never had a very high opinion of him myself.""Back off, sirrah. I warn you now." Walrond pointed his long pistol. "You're speaking your impertinences to an officer of the king's army. I've dealt with a few thieves and smugglers in years past, and I just may decide to mete out some more long-overdue justice here and now."Dalby Bedford cleared his throat and stepped between them. "Gentlemen, I think there's been more heat here tonight than need be, all around. It could be well if we cooled off a day or so. I trust the Assembly would second my motion for adjournment of this session, till we've had time to reflect on what's the best course for us. This is scarcely a light matter. We could be heading into war withEngland.""A prospect that does not deter certain of us from acting on principle, sir." Walrond's voice welled up again. "I demand this Assembly take a vote right now on . . .""You'll vote on nothing, by God," Briggs yelled, then drew his own pistol. Suddenly a fistfight erupted between two members of the Assembly, one for and the other opposing the monarchy. Then others joined in. In the excitement, several pistols were discharged in the fray.Good God, Winston thought,Barbados' famous Assembly has been reduced to this. He noticed absently that the first gray coloring of dawn was already beginning to appear in the east. It'd been a long night. What'll happen when day finally comes and news of all this reaches the rest of the island? Where will it end. . ."Belay there! Cool down your ordnance!" Above the shouts and bedlam, a voice sounded from the direction of the shore.Winston turned to see the light of a swinging sea lanternapproaching up the rise. He recognized the ragged outline of Johan Ruyters, still in the clothes he had worn earlier that night, puffing up the hill.Ruyters topped the rise and surveyed the confusion. His presence seemed to immediately dampen the melee, as several Assemblymen paused in embarrassment to stare. The Dutchman walked directly up to Dalby Bedford and tipped his wide-brimmed hat. "Your servant, sir." Then he gazed around. "Your most obedient servant, gentlemen, one and all." He nodded to the crowd before turning back to addressBedford. "Though it's never been my practice to intrude in your solemn English convocations, I thought it would be well for you to hear what I just learned." He drew a deep breath and settled his lantern onto the grass. "TheKostverloren, bound fromAmsterdam, has just dropped anchor in the bay, and Captain Liebergen called us all together in a rare sweat. He says when dark caught him last evening he was no more than three leagues ahead of an English fleet.""Great God help us." Walrond sucked in his breath."Aye, that was my thinking as well." Ruyters glanced back. "If I had to guess, I'd say your English Parliament's sent the navy, gentlemen. So we may all have to be giving God a hand if we're not to have the harbor taken by daylight. For once a rumor's proved all too true.""God's life, how many were sailing?"Bedfordwhirled to squint toward the dim horizon."His maintopman thinks he may've counted some fifteen sail. Half of them looked to be merchantmen, but the rest were clearly men-of-war, maybe thirty guns apiece. We're all readying to weigh anchor and hoist sail at first light, but it's apt to be too late now. I'd say with the guns they've got, and the canvas, they'll have the harbor in a bottle by daybreak.""I don't believe you." Walrond gazed skeptically toward the east."As you will, sir." Ruyters smiled. "But if you'd be pleased to send a man up to the top of the hill, right over there, I'd wager he just might be able to spy their tops'ls for himself."Winston felt the life suddenly flow out of him. It was the end of his plans. With the harbor blockaded, he'd never be able to sail with the indentures. He might never sail at all."God Almighty, you don't have to send anybody."Bedfordwas pointing toward the horizon. "Don't you see it?"Just beneath the gray cloudbank was an unmistakable string of flickering pinpoints, mast lights. The crowd gathered to stare in dismay. FinallyBedford's voice came, hard and determined. "We've got to meet them. The question is, what're their damned intentions?"Ruyters picked up his lantern and extinguished it. "By my thinking the first thing you'd best do is man those guns down there on the Point, and then make your enquiries. You can't let them into the bay. We've got shipping there, sir. And a fortune in cargo. There'll be hell to pay, I promise you, if I lose so much as a florin in goods."Bedfordgazed down the hill, toward the gun emplacements at the ocean cliff. "Aye, but we don't yet know why the fleet's come. We've only had rumors.""At least one of those rumors was based on fact, sir." Briggs had moved beside them. "I have it on authority, from my broker inLondon, that an Act was reported from the Council of State four weeks past to embargo our shipping till the Assembly votes recognition of the Commonwealth. He even sent me a copy. And this fleet was already being pulled together at the time. I don't know how many men-o'-war they've sent, but I heard the flagship was to be theRainbowe. Fifty guns." He looked back at the Assembly. "And the surest way to put an end to our prosperity now would be to resist."He was rudely shouted down by several Assemblymen, royalists cursing the Commonwealth. The air came alive with calls for defiance."Well, we're going to find out what they're about before we do anything, one way or the other."Bedfordlooked around him. "We've got guns down there in the breastwork. I'd say we can at least keep them out of the bay for now.""Not without gunners, you won't." Ruyters' voice was somber. "Who've you got here? Show me a man who's ever handled a linstock, and I'll give you leave to hang me. And I'll not be lending you my lads, though I'd dearly love to. It'd be a clear act of war."Winston was staring down at the shore, toward his own waiting seamen. If the English navy enteredCarlisleBay, the first vessel they'd confiscate would be theDefiance."God help me." He paused a moment longer, then walked to the edge of the hill and drew a pistol. The shot echoed through the morning silence.The report brought a chorus of yells from the shore. Suddenly a band of seamen were charging up the hill, muskets at the ready, led by John Mewes. Winston waited till they topped the rise, then he gestured them forward. "All gunnery mates report to duty at the breastwork down there at the Point, on the double." He pointed toward the row of rusty cannon overlooking the bay. "Master Gunner Tom Canninge's in charge."Several of the men gave a loose salute and turned to hurry down the hill. Winston watched them go, then looked back atBedford. "How much powder do you have?""Powder? I'm not sure anybody knows. We'll have to check the magazine over there."Bedfordgestured toward a low building situated well behind the breastwork, surrounded by its own stone fortification. "I'd say there's likely a dozen barrels or so."Winston glanced at Mewes. "Go check it, John. See if it's usable.""Aye." Mewes passed his musket to one of the French seamen and was gone."And that rusty pile of round shot I see down there by the breastwork? Is that the best you've got?""That's all we have on the Point. There's more shot atJamestownand over at Oistins."
Ruyters eyed him in silence for a moment. The rhythmic creaking of the boards sounded through the smoky gloom of the cabin. Finally he spoke. "Let's be plain. What are they paying you?"
"I told you." Winston reached for the flask. "I've spoken toBedford, and I'm planning a deal for sugar contracts. I'll take it out in trade later."
Ruyters slammed down his own tankard. "God's wounds, they could just as well have talked to some of us! I'll warrant the Dutch bottoms here've got enough ordnance to fortify both of the breastworks along the west coast." He looked up. "There're a good dozen merchantmen anchored in the bay right now. And we've all got some ordnance. I've even got a fine set of brass nine-pounders they could borrow."
"I'd as soon keep this an English matter for now. There's no need for you Dutchmen to get involved." Winston emptied the flask into his tankard. "The way I see it, I can fortify the breastwork up on the Point with what I've got on board. It'll help them hold off Cromwell's fleet for a while, maybe soften the terms." He turned and tossed the bottle out the open stern window. "Which is just enough to get me signatures on some contracts. Then I take back the guns and Cromwell can have the place."
"What the pox, it's a free trade matter, sir. We've all got a stake in it." Ruyters' look darkened. He thought of the profits he had enjoyed over the years trading with the English settlements. He'd sold household wares, cloth, and liquor to colonists in Virginia and the Caribbees, and he'd shipped back toEuropewith furs and tobacco fromNorth America, cotton and dye woods from theCaribbean. Like all Dutch fluyts, his ship was specially built to be lightly manned, enabling him to consistently undercut English shippers. Then too, he and the other Dutch traders made a science of stowage and took better care of their cargos. They could always sell cheaper, give longer credits, and offer lower freight rates than any English trader could. But now that they had slaves to swap for sugar, there would finally be some real profits. "I can't speak for the other men here, but it'd be no trouble for me to lend them a few guns too. . . . And I'd be more than willing to take payment in sugar contracts. Maybe you could mention it privately toBedford. It'd have to be unofficial, if they're going to be using Dutch guns against the English navy."
"I'm not sure why I'd want to do that."
"As a gentleman, sir. We both have a stake in keeping free trade. Maybe you could just drop a word toBedfordand ask him to bring it up with the Assembly. Tell him we might mislay a few culverin, if he could arrange to have some contracts drawn up."
"What's in it for me?"
"We'll strike an arrangement, sir. Word of honor." Ruyters look brightened. "To be settled later. When I can return the favor."
"Maybe you can do something for me now . . . if I agree."
"You can name it, sir."
"I've been thinking I could use a good bosun's mate. How about letting me have that crippled Spaniard on theZeelanderif you've still got him? What's his name . . . the one who had a limp after that fall from the yardarm when we were tacking in toNevis?"
"You don't mean Vargas?"
"Armando Vargas, that's the one."
Ruyters squinted through the dim light. "He's one of the handiest lads aloft I've got, bad leg or no. A first-rate yardman."
"Well, I think I'd like to take him on."
"I didn't know you were short-handed, sir."
"That's my bargain." Winston walked back to the window. "Let me have him and I'll see what I can do about talking toBedford."
"I suppose you remember he used to be a navigator of sorts for the Spaniards. For that matter, I'll wager he knows as much as any man you're likely to come across about their shipping in theWindward Passageand their fortifications over there on theMain." Ruyters' eyes narrowed. "Damn my soul, what the devil are you planning?"
"I can always use a good man." He laughed. "Those are my terms."
"You're a lying rogue, I'll stake my life." He shoved back his chair. "But I still like the bargain, for it all. You’ve got a man. HaveBedfordraise our matter with the Assembly."
"I'll see what I can do. Only it's just between us for now, till we see how many guns they need."
"It goes without saying." Ruyters rose and extended his hand. "So we'll shake on it. A bargain sealed." He bowed. "Your servant, sir."
Winston pushed open the cabin door and followed him down the companionway to the waist of the ship. Ruyters' shallop was moored alongside, its lantern casting a shimmering light across the waves. The oarsmen bustled to station when they saw him emerge. He bowed again, then swung heavily down the rope ladder.
Winston stood pensively by the railing, inhaling the moist evening air and watching as the shallop's lantern slowly faded into themidnight. Finally he turned and strolled up the companionway to the quarterdeck.
Miss Katherine Bedford should be pleased, he told himself. In any case, better they borrow Dutch guns than mine. Not that the extra ordnance will make much difference if Cromwell posts a fleet of warships with trained gunners. With these planters manning their cannon, the fleet will make short work of the island.
He started back for the cabin, then paused to watch the moonlight breaking over the crests and listen to the rhythmic pound of light surf along the shore. He looked back at the island and asked himself if Katherine's was a cause worth helping. Not if theAmericasend up the province of a few rich slaveholders—which onBarbadoshas got to be sure as the sunrise. So just hold your own course, and let this island get whatever it deserves.
He glanced over the ship and reflected again on his preparations, for the hundredth time. It wouldn't be easy, but the plan was coming together. The sight drafts were still safely locked away in the Great Cabin, ready for delivery day after tomorrow, when the transfer of the indentures became official. And the work of outfitting the ship for transport of men was all but finished. The gun deck had been cleared, with the spare budge barrels of powder and the auxiliary round shot moved to the hold, permitting sleeping hammocks to be lashed up for the new men. Stores of salt fish, cheese, and biscuit had been assembled in a warehouse facing Carlisle Bay; and two hundred half pikes had been forged, fitted with staffs, and secured in the fo'c'sle, together with all of Anthony Walrond's new flintlock muskets.
Everything was ready. And now he finally had a pilot. Armando Vargas had madeJamaicaharbor a dozen times back when he sailed with the Spaniards; he always liked to brag about it. Once he’d even described in detail the lookout post on a hilltop somewhere west ofJamaicaBay. If they could slip some men past those sentries on the hill, the fortress and town would fall before the Spaniards' militia even suspected they were around.
Then maybe he would take out time to answer the letter that'd just come fromEngland.
He turned and nodded to several of the men as he moved slowly back down the companionway and into the comforting quiet of the cabin. He'd go up to Joan's tavern after a while, share a last tankard, and listen to that laugh of hers as he spun out the story of Ruyters and the guns. But now he wanted solitude. He'd always believed he thought best, worked best, alone.
He closed the large oak door of the Great Cabin, then walked to the windows aft and studied the wide sea. TheCaribbeanwas home now, the only home left. If there was any question of that before, there wasn't anymore, not after the letter.
He stood a moment longer, then felt for the small key he always kept in his left breeches pocket. Beneath a board at the side of the cabin was a movable panel, and behind it a heavy door, double secured. The key slipped easily into the metal locks, and he listened for the two soft clicks.
Inside were the sight bills, just visible in the flickering light of the lantern, and next to them was a stack of shipping invoices. Finally there was the letter, its outside smeared with grease and the red wax of its seal cracked and half missing. He slipped it out and unfolded it along the creases, feeling his anger well up as he settled to read it one more time.
Sir (I shall never again have the pleasure to address you as my obedient son),
After many years of my thinking you perished, there has late come word you are abroad in the Caribbees, a matter long known to certain others but until this day Shielded from me, for reasons I now fully Comprehend. The Reputation I find you have acquired brings me no little pain, being that (so I am now advis’d) of a Smuggler and Brigand.
He paused to glance out the stern window once again, remembering how the letter had arrived in the mail packet just delivered by theRotterdam. It was dated two months past, and it had been deposited at Joan's tavern along with several others intended for seamen known to make port inBarbados.
Though I had these many long years thought you dead by the hands of the Spaniard, yet I prayed unceasing to God it should not be so. Now, upon hearing News of what you have become, I am constrained to question God's will. In that you have brought Ignominy to my name, and to the name of those other two sons of mine, both Dutiful, I can find no room for solace, nor can they.
He found his mind going back to memories of William and James, both older. He'd never cared much for either of them, and they'd returned his sentiment in full measure. William was the first—heavy set and slow of wit, with a noticeable weakness for sherry. Since the eldest son inherited everything, he had by now doubtless taken charge of the two thousand acres that was Winston Manor, becoming a country squire who lived off rents from his tenants. And what of James, that nervous image of Lord Harold Winston and no less ambitious and unyielding? Probably by now he was a rich barrister, the profession he’d announced for himself sometime about age ten. Or maybe he’d stood for Parliament, there to uphold the now-ended cause of King Charles.
That a son of mine should become celebrated in the Americas for his contempt of Law brings me distress beyond the telling of it. Though I reared you with utmost care and patience, I oft had cause to ponder if you should ever come to any good end, being always of dissolute and unruly inclination. Now I find your Profession has been to defraud the English crown, to which you should be on your knees in Reverence, and to injure the cause of honest Merchants, who are the lifeblood of this Christian nation. I am told your name has even reached the ears of His Majesty, causing him no small Dismay, and adding to his distresses at a time when the very throne of England is in peril from those who would, as you, set personal gain above loyalty and obedience. . . .
He stopped, not wanting to read more, and crumpled the letter.
That was the end ofEngland. Why would he want to go back? Ever? If there’d once been a possibility, now it was gone. The time had come to plant roots in theNew World. So what better placethanJamaica? And damned toEngland. He turned again to the stern windows, feeling the end of all the unease that had come and gone over the years. This was it.
But afterJamaica, what? He was all alone. A white cloud floated past the moon, with a shape like the beakhead of a ship. For a moment it was a gargoyle, and then it was the head of a white horse. . . .
He had turned back, still holding the paper, when he noticed the sound of distant pops, fragile explosions, from the direction of the Point. He walked, puzzling, back to the safe and was closing the door, the key already in the lock, when he suddenly stopped.
The Assembly Room was somewhere near Lookout Point, just across the bay. It was too much of a coincidence.
With a silent curse he reached in and felt until his hand closed around the leather packet of sight bills, the ones he would exchange for the indentures. Under them were the other papers he would need, and he took those too. Then he quickly locked the cabinet and rose to make his way out to the companionway. As he passed the table, he reached for his pistols, checking the prime and shoving them into his belt as he moved out into the evening air.
He moved aft to the quartergallery railing to listen again. Now there could be no mistaking. Up the hill, behind Lookout Point, there were flashes of light in the dark. Musket fire.
"What do you suppose it could be, Cap'n?" John Mewes appeared at the head of the companionway.
"Just pray it's not what I think it is. Or we may need some powder and shot ourselves." He glanced back toward the hill. "Sound general muster. Every man on deck."
"Aye." Mewes turned and headed for the quarterdeck.
Even as the bell was still sounding, seamen began to appear through the open hatch, some half dressed and groggy. Others were mumbling that their dice game had been interrupted. Winston met them on the main deck, and slowly they formed a ragged column facing him. Now there was more gunfire from the hill, unmistakable.
"I'm going to issue muskets." He walked along the line, checking each seaman personally. Every other man seemed to be tipsy. "To every man here that's sober. We're going ashore, and you'll be under my command."
"Beggin' yor pardon, Cap'n, what's all that commotion up there apt to be?" A grizzled seaman peered toward the sounds as he finished securing the string supporting his breeches.
"It might just be the inauguration of a new Civil War, Hawkins." Winston's voice sounded down the deck. "So look lively. We collect on our sight bills. Tonight."
The jagged peninsula known as Lookout Point projected off the southwestern tip ofBarbados, separating the windyAtlanticon the south from the calm of the leeward coast on the west. At its farthest tip, situated on a stone cliff that rose some hundred feet above the entrance toCarlisleBay, were the breastwork and gun emplacements. Intended for harbor defense only, its few projecting cannon all pointed out toward the channel leading into the bay, past the line of coral reefs that sheltered the harbor on its southern side.
From the deck of theDefiance, at anchor near the river mouth and across the bay from the peninsula, the gunfire seemed to be coming from the direction of the new Assembly Room, a thatched-roof stone building up the hill beyond the breastwork. Constructed under the authority of Governor Dalby Bedford, it housed the General Assembly of Barbados, which consisted of two representatives elected from each of the eleven parishes on the island. All free men in possession of five acres or more could vote, ballots being cast at the parish churches.
While Winston unlocked the gun racks in the fo'c'sle and began issuing the muskets and the bandoliers of powder and shot, John Mewes ordered the two longboats lashed amidships readied and launched. The seamen lined up single file at the doorway of the fo'c'sle to receive their muskets, then swung down the rope ladders and into the boats. Winston took his place in one and gave command of the other to John Mewes.
As the men strained against the oars and headed across the bay, he studied the row of cannon projecting out over the moonlit sea from the top of the breastwork. They've never been used, he thought wryly, except maybe for ceremonial salutes. That's what they call harbor defenses! It's a mercy of God the island's so far windward from theMainthat the Spaniards've never troubled to burn the place out.
He sat on the prow of the longboat, collecting his thoughts while he tasted the air and the scent of the sea. The whitecaps of the bay slipped past in the moonlight as they steered to leeward of the line of Dutch merchantmen anchored near the shore. He then noticed a bob of lanterns on the southeast horizon and realized it was an arriving merchantman, with a heading that would bring it directly into the harbor. He watched the lights awhile, marveling at the Dutch trading zeal that would cause a captain to steer past the reefs into the harbor in the hours aftermidnight. He congratulated himself he'd long ago given up trying to compete head-on with the Hollanders. They practically owned the English settlements in theAmericas. Scarce wonder Cromwell's first order of business was to be rid of them.
The sound of the tide lapping against the beach as the two longboats neared the shore beneath the breastwork brought his attention back. When they scraped into the shallows, he dropped off the prow and waded through the knee-high surf that chased up the sand in wave after wave. Ahead the beach glistened white, till it gave way to the rocks at the base of the Point.
John Mewes puffed along close at his heels, and after him came the first mate, Dick Hawkins, unshaven but alert, musket at the ready. Close behind strode tall Edwin Spune, master's mate, a musket in each hand, followed by the rest. In all, some twenty of Winston's men had crossed the bay with him. He ordered the longboats beached, then called the men together and motioned for quiet.
"Are all muskets primed?"
"Aye." Spurre stepped forward, holding his two muskets up as though for inspection. "An' every man's got an extra bandolier of powder an' shot. We're ready for whatever the whoresons try." He glanced up the rise, puzzled, still not understanding why the captain had assembled them. But Hugh Winston liked having his orders obeyed.
"Good." Winston walked down the line. "Spread out along the shore and wait. I'm going up to see what the shooting's about. Just stand ready till you hear from me. But if you see me fire a pistol shot, you be up that hill like Jack-be-nimble. Is that clear?"
"You mean us against all that bleedin' lot up there?" John Mewes squinted toward the dark rise. "There's apt to be half their militia up there, Cap'n, from the sound of it."
"Did I hear you question an order, John? You know ship's rules. They go for officers too." He turned to the other men. "Should we call a vote right here?"
"God's life." Mewes pushed forward, remembering Winston's formula for discipline on theDefiance. He didn't even own a cat-o'nine-tails, the lash used by most ship captains for punishment. He never touched an offender. He always just put trial and punishment to a show of hands by the men—whose favorite entertainment was keelhauling any seaman who disobeyed Captain's orders, lashing a line to his waist and ducking him under the hull till he was half drowned. "I wasn't doin' no questioning. Not for a minute. I must've just been mumbling in my sleep."
"Then try and stay awake. I'm going up there now, alone. But if I need you, you'd better be there, John. With the men. That's an order."
"Aye." Mewes performed what passed for a salute, then cocked his musket with a flourish.
Winston loosened the pistols in his belt, checked the packet containing the sight bills and the other papers he had brought, then headed directly up the rise. The approach to Lookout Point was deserted, but up the hill, behind a new stack of logs, he could see the shadowy outline of a crowd. The barricade, no more than fifty yards from the Assembly Room, was in the final stages of construction, as men with torches dragged logs forward. Others, militia officers, were stationed behind the logs with muskets and were returning pistol fire from the half-open doorway of the Assembly Room.
Above the din he could hear the occasional shouts of Benjamin Briggs, who appeared to be in charge. Together with him were the members of the Council and officers from their regiments. The command of the militia was restricted to major landholders: a field officer had to own at least a hundred acres, a captain fifty, a lieutenant twenty-five, and even an ensign had to have fifteen.
On the barricade were straw-hatted indentures belonging to members of the Council, armed only with pikes since the planters did not trust them with muskets. Winston recognized among them many whom he had agreed to take.
The firing was sputtering to a lull as he approached. Then Briggs spotted him and yelled out. "You'd best be gone, sir. Before someone in the Assembly Room gets a mind to put a round of pistol shot in your breeches."
"I'm not part of your little war."
"That you're decidedly not, sir. So we'll not be requiring your services here tonight."
"What's the difficulty?" Winston was still walking directly toward them.
"It's a matter of the safety ofBarbados. I've said it doesn't concern you."
"Those indentures concern me. I don't want them shot."
"Tell that to the Assembly, sir. We came here tonight offering to take Dalby Bedford under our care, peacefully. To protect him from elements on the island who're set to disown Parliament. But some of the hotheads in there mistook our peaceful purpose and opened fire on us."
"Maybe they think they can 'protect' him better than you can." Another round of fire sounded from the doorway of the Assembly Room and thudded into the log barricade. When two of the planters cursed and fired back, the door was abruptly slammed shut.
"It's the Assembly that's usurped rightful rule here, sir, as tonight should amply show. When they no longer represent the true interests ofBarbados." Briggs glared at him. "We're restoring proper authority to this island, long overdue."
"You and the Council can restore whatever you like. I'm just here to take care of my indentures, before you manage to have some of them killed."
"They're not yours yet, sir. The situation's changed. We're not letting them go whilst the island's unsettled."
"The only unsettling thing I see here are all those muskets." He reached into the pocket of his jerkin and lifted out the leather packet containing the sight drafts. "So we're going to make that transfer, right now.''
"Well, I'm damned if you'll have a single man. This is not the time agreed." Briggs looked around at the other members of the Council. Behind them the crowd of indentures had stopped work to listen.
"The sight bills are payable on demand. We've settled the terms, and I'm officially calling them in." Winston passed over the packet. "You've got plenty of witnesses. Here're the sight bills. As of now, the indentures are mine." He pulled a sheaf of papers from the other pocket of his jerkin. ' 'You're welcome to look over the drafts while I start checking off the men."
Briggs seized the leather packet and flung it to the ground. Then he lifted his musket. "These indentures are still under our authority. Until we say, no man's going to take them. Not even. . .”
A series of musket shots erupted from the window of the Assembly Room, causing Briggs and the other planters to duck down behind the log barricade. Winston remained standing as he called out the first name on the sheet.
"Timothy Farrell."
The red-faced Irishman climbed around Briggs and moved
forward, his face puzzled. He remained behind the pile of logs as he hunkered down, still holding his half-pike.
"That's my name, Yor Worship. But Master Briggs . . .”
"Farrell, here's the indenture contract we drew up for your transfer." Winston held out the first paper from the sheaf. "I've marked it paid and had it stamped. Come and get it and you're free to go."
"What's this, Yor Worship?" He gingerly reached up for the paper and stared at it in the torchlight, uncomprehending. "I heard you was like to be buying out my contract. By my reckoning there's two more year left on it."
"I did just buy it. It's there in your hand. You're a free man."
Farrell sat staring at the paper, examining the stamped wax seal and attempting to decipher the writing. A sudden silence enveloped the crowd, punctuated by another round of musket fire from the Assembly Room. After it died away, Winston continued, "Now Farrell, if you'd care to be part of an expedition of mine that'll be leavingBarbadosin a few days' time, that's your privilege. Starting tonight, your pay'll be five shillings a week."
"Beggin' Yor Worship's pardon, I reckon I'm not understandin' what you've said. You've bought this contract? An' you've already marked it paid?"
"With those sight bills." He pointed to the packet on the ground beside Briggs.
Farrell glanced at the leather bundle skeptically. Then he looked back at Winston. "An' now you're sayin' I'm free?"
"It's stamped on that contract. Have somebody read it if you care to."
"An' I can serve Yor Worship for wage if I like?" His voice began to rise.
"Five shillings a week for now. Maybe more later, if you . . ."
"Holy Mother Mary an' all the Saints!I'm free!" He crumpled the paper into his pocket, then leaped up as he flung his straw hat into the air. "Free! I ne'er thought I'd stay breathin' long enough to hear the word." He glanced quickly at the Assembly Room, then dismissed the danger as he began to dance beside the logs.
"At the dirty end o' Dirty Lane,
Liv’d a dirty cobbler, Dick Maclane ..."
"That man still belongs to me." Briggs half cocked his musket as he rose.
Farrell whirled and brandished his half-pike at the planter. "You can fry in hell, you pox-rotted bastard. I've lived on your corn mush an' water for three years, till I'm scarce able to stand. An' sweated sunup to sundown in your blazin' fields, hoein' your damn'd tobacco, and now your God-cursed cane. With not a farthing o' me own to show for it, or a change o' breeches. But His Worship says he's paid me out. An' his paper says I'm free. That means free as you are, by God. I'll be puttin' this pike in your belly—by God I will—or any man here, who says another word against His Worship. I'll serve him as long as I'm standin', or pray God to strike me dead." He gave another whoop. "Good Jesus, who's got a thirst! I'm free!"
"Jim Carroll." Winston's voice continued mechanically, sounding above the din that swept through the indentures.
"Present an' most humbly at Yor Worship's service." A second man elbowed his way forward through the cluster of Briggs' indentures, shoving several others out of his path.
"Here's your contract, Carroll. It's been stamped paid and you're free to go. Or you can serve under me if you choose. You've heard the terms."
"I'd serve you for a ha'penny a year, Yor Worship." He seized the paper and gave a Gaelic cheer, a tear lining down one cheek. "I've naught to show for four years in the fields but aches an' an empty belly. I'll die right here under your command before I'd serve another minute under that whoreson."
"God damn you, Winston." Briggs full-cocked his musket with an ominous click. "If you think I'll . . ."
Carroll whirled and thrust his pike into Briggs' face. "It's free I am, by God. An' it's me you'll be killin' before you harm a hair o' His Worship, if I don't gut you first."
Briggs backed away from the pike, still clutching his musket. The other members of the Council had formed a circle and cocked their guns.
"You don't own these damned indentures yet," Nicholas Whittington shouted. "We've not agreed to a transfer now."
"You've got your sight drafts. Those were the terms. If you want these men to stay, tell it to them." He checked the sheaf of papers and yelled out the next name: "Tom Darcy." As a haggard man in a shabby straw hat pushed forward, Winston turned back to the huddle that was the Council. "You're welcome to offer them a wage and see if they'd want to stay on. Since their contracts are all stamped paid, I don't have any say in it anymore."
"Well, I have a say in it, sir." Whittington lifted his musket. "I plan to have an end to this knavery right now, before it gets out of hand. One more word from you, and it'll be your . . ."
Winston looked up and yelled to the crowd of indentures. "I gather you've heard who's on the list. If those men'll come up, you can have your papers. Your contracts are paid, and you're free to go. Any man who chooses to serve under me can join me here now.''
Whittington was knocked sprawling by the surge of the crowd, as straw hats were flung into the air. A milling mob of indentures waving half-pikes pressed forward.
Papers from the sheaf in Winston's hand were passed eagerly through the ranks. The Council and the officers of their militia had drawn together for protection, still grasping their muskets.
In the confusion no one noticed the shaft of light from the doorway of the Assembly Room that cut across the open space separating it from the barricade. One by one the members of the Assembly gingerly emerged to watch. Leading them was Anthony Walrond, wearing a brocade doublet and holding a long flintlock pistol, puzzlement in his face.
Briggs finally saw them and whirled to cover the Assemblymen with his musket. "We say deliver upBedfordor there'll be hell to pay, I swear it!"
"Put down that musket, you whoreson." Farrell gave a yell and threw himself across the barrel of the gun, seizing the muzzle and shoving it in to the dirt. There was a loud report as it discharged, exploding at the breech and spewing burning powder into the night.
"Christ Almighty." Walrond moved out into the night and several men from the Assembly trailed after him, dressed in plain doublets and carrying pistols. "What the devil's this about?"
"Nothing that concerns you." Winston dropped a hand to one of the guns in his belt. "I'd advise you all to go back inside till I'm finished."
"We were just concluding a meeting of the Assembly, sir." Walrond examined Winston icily, then glanced toward the men of the Council. "When these rogues tried to commandeer the room, claiming they'd come to seize the governor, to 'protect' him. I take it you're part of this conspiracy."
"I'm here to protect my interests. Which gives me as much right as you have to be here. I don't recall that you're elected to this body.''
"I'm here tonight in an advisory capacity, Captain, not that it's any of your concern." Walrond glanced back at the others, all warily holding pistols. "To offer my views regarding the situation inEngland." As he spoke Dalby Bedford emerged from the crowd. Walking behind him was Katherine.
Winston turned to watch, thinking she was even more beautiful than he had realized before. Her face was radiant, self- assured as she moved through the dim torchlight in a glistening skirt and full sleeves. She smiled and pushed toward him.
"Captain Winston, are you to be thanked for all this confusion?"
"Only a part of it, Miss Bedford. I merely stopped by to
enquire about my indentures, since I got the idea some of your Assemblymen were shooting at them."
Anthony Walrond stared at Katherine. "May I take it you know this man? It does you no credit, madam, I warrant you." Then he turned and moved down the path, directly toward Briggs and the members of the Council. "And I can tell all of you this night is far from finished. There'll be an accounting here, sirs, you may depend on it. Laws have been violated."
"You, sir, should know that best of all." Briggs stepped forward and dropped his hand to the pistol still in his belt. "Since you and this pack of royalist agitators that calls itself an Assembly would unlawfully steer this island to ruin. The Council of Barbados holds that this body deserves to be dissolved forthwith, and new elections held, to represent the interests of the island against those who'd lead us into a fool's war with theCommonwealthofEngland."
"You, sir, speak now in the very same voice as the rebels there. I presume you'd have this island bow to the criminals in Parliament who're now threatening to behead our lawful king."
"Gentlemen, please." Dalby Bedford moved between them and raised his hand. "I won't stand for this wrangling. We all have to try to settle our differences like Englishmen. I, for one, would have no objection to inviting the Council to sit with us in the Assembly, have a joint session, and try to reason out what's the wisest course now."
"I see no reason this body need share a table with a crowd of rebels who'll not bend a knee to the rightful sovereign ofEngland." Walrond turned back to the members of the Assembly. "I say you should this very night draw up a loyalty oath forBarbados. Any man who refuses to swear fealty to His Majesty should be deported back to England, to join the traitors who would unlawfully destroy the monarchy.''
"No!" Katherine abruptly pushed in front of him. "This island stayed neutral all through the Civil War. We never took a part, either for king or Parliament. Why should we take sides now, with the war over and finished?"
Walrond looked down at her, startled. "Because the time has come to stand and be counted, Katherine. Why do you suppose? The rebels may have seizedEnglandfor now, but that's no reason we in theAmericashave to turn our back on the king."
"But there's another choice." She drew a deep breath. Winston saw determination in her eyes as she turned to face the men of the Assembly. "Think about it. We never belonged toEngland; we belonged to the Crown. But the monarchy's been abolished and the king's patents invalidated. I say we should join with the other English settlements and declare theAmericasa new nation.Barbadosshould lead the way and declare our own independence."
"That's the damnedest idea I've ever heard." Briggs moved forward, shaking away the indentures who still crowded around him menacingly. "If we did that, there'd be war for sure. We've got to stay English, or Cromwell'll send the army to burn us out." He turned to Walrond. "Rebel or no, Cromwell represents the might ofEngland. We'd be fools to try to stand against him. Either for king or for some fool dream of independence." He looked back at Katherine. "Where'd you get such an idea, girl? It'd be the end of our hopes for prosperity if we tried going to war withEngland. There'd be no room to negotiate."
"You, sir, have no say in this. You're apt to be on trial for treason before the week's out." Walrond waved his pistol at Briggs, then turned back to Katherine. "What are you talking about?Englandis beholden to her king, madam, much the way, I might remind you, a wife is to her husband. Or don't you yet understand that? It's our placeto revere and serve the monarchy."
"As far as I'm concerned, the king's only a man. And so's a husband, sir."
"A wife takes an oath in marriage, madam, to obey her husband. You'd best remember that." He turned and motioned the members of the Assembly to gather around him as he stepped over to a large log and mounted it. "On the subject of obedience, I say again an oath of loyalty to His Majesty King Charles should be voted in the Barbados Assembly this very morning. We need to know where this island stands." He stared back at Dalby Bedford. "Much as a husband would do well to know what he can expect when he takes a wife."
"You've got no authority to call a vote by the Assembly," Briggs sputtered. "You're not elected to it." He looked at Walrond, then atBedford. "This, by God, was the very thing we came here tonight to head off."
"You, sir, have no authority to interfere in the lawful processes of this body." Walrond turned back to the Assembly members, now huddled in conference.
Winston looked at Katherine and found himself admiring her idealism—and her brass, openly defying the man she was supposed to marry. She wanted independence for theAmericas, he now realized, while all Anthony Walrond wanted was to turnBarbadosinto a government in exile for the king, maybe to someday restore his fortune inEngland. She was an independent woman herself too, make no mistaking. Sir Anthony Walrond was going to have himself a handful in the future, with the Commonwealth and with her.
Come to think of it, though, independence wasn't all that bad an idea. Why the hell not? Damned toEngland.
"I think there've been enough high-handed attempts to take over this island for one night.'' He moved to confront Walrond.
"You have your brass, Captain, to even show your face here." He inspected Winston with his good eye. "When you pillaged a ship of mine offNevisIsland, broadcloth and muskets, no more than two years past."
"Now that you've brought it up, what I did was save the lives of some fifty men who were about to drown for want of a seaworthy longboat. Since you saved so much money on equipage, I figured you could afford to compensate me for my pains."
"It was theft, sir, by any law."
"Then the law be hanged."
"Hardly a surprising sentiment, coming from you." Walrond shifted his pistol toward Winston's direction. "You should be onTortuga, with the other rogues of your own stripe, rather than here onBarbadosamongst honest men. Your profession, Captain, has trained you best for the end of a rope."
"What's yours trained you for?" He stood unmoving. "Get yourself elected to the Assembly, then make your speeches. I'm tired of hearing about your king. In truth, I never had a very high opinion of him myself."
"Back off, sirrah. I warn you now." Walrond pointed his long pistol. "You're speaking your impertinences to an officer of the king's army. I've dealt with a few thieves and smugglers in years past, and I just may decide to mete out some more long-overdue justice here and now."
Dalby Bedford cleared his throat and stepped between them. "Gentlemen, I think there's been more heat here tonight than need be, all around. It could be well if we cooled off a day or so. I trust the Assembly would second my motion for adjournment of this session, till we've had time to reflect on what's the best course for us. This is scarcely a light matter. We could be heading into war withEngland."
"A prospect that does not deter certain of us from acting on principle, sir." Walrond's voice welled up again. "I demand this Assembly take a vote right now on . . ."
"You'll vote on nothing, by God," Briggs yelled, then drew his own pistol. Suddenly a fistfight erupted between two members of the Assembly, one for and the other opposing the monarchy. Then others joined in. In the excitement, several pistols were discharged in the fray.
Good God, Winston thought,Barbados' famous Assembly has been reduced to this. He noticed absently that the first gray coloring of dawn was already beginning to appear in the east. It'd been a long night. What'll happen when day finally comes and news of all this reaches the rest of the island? Where will it end. . .
"Belay there! Cool down your ordnance!" Above the shouts and bedlam, a voice sounded from the direction of the shore.
Winston turned to see the light of a swinging sea lantern
approaching up the rise. He recognized the ragged outline of Johan Ruyters, still in the clothes he had worn earlier that night, puffing up the hill.
Ruyters topped the rise and surveyed the confusion. His presence seemed to immediately dampen the melee, as several Assemblymen paused in embarrassment to stare. The Dutchman walked directly up to Dalby Bedford and tipped his wide-brimmed hat. "Your servant, sir." Then he gazed around. "Your most obedient servant, gentlemen, one and all." He nodded to the crowd before turning back to addressBedford. "Though it's never been my practice to intrude in your solemn English convocations, I thought it would be well for you to hear what I just learned." He drew a deep breath and settled his lantern onto the grass. "TheKostverloren, bound fromAmsterdam, has just dropped anchor in the bay, and Captain Liebergen called us all together in a rare sweat. He says when dark caught him last evening he was no more than three leagues ahead of an English fleet."
"Great God help us." Walrond sucked in his breath.
"Aye, that was my thinking as well." Ruyters glanced back. "If I had to guess, I'd say your English Parliament's sent the navy, gentlemen. So we may all have to be giving God a hand if we're not to have the harbor taken by daylight. For once a rumor's proved all too true."
"God's life, how many were sailing?"Bedfordwhirled to squint toward the dim horizon.
"His maintopman thinks he may've counted some fifteen sail. Half of them looked to be merchantmen, but the rest were clearly men-of-war, maybe thirty guns apiece. We're all readying to weigh anchor and hoist sail at first light, but it's apt to be too late now. I'd say with the guns they've got, and the canvas, they'll have the harbor in a bottle by daybreak."
"I don't believe you." Walrond gazed skeptically toward the east.
"As you will, sir." Ruyters smiled. "But if you'd be pleased to send a man up to the top of the hill, right over there, I'd wager he just might be able to spy their tops'ls for himself."
Winston felt the life suddenly flow out of him. It was the end of his plans. With the harbor blockaded, he'd never be able to sail with the indentures. He might never sail at all.
"God Almighty, you don't have to send anybody."Bedfordwas pointing toward the horizon. "Don't you see it?"
Just beneath the gray cloudbank was an unmistakable string of flickering pinpoints, mast lights. The crowd gathered to stare in dismay. FinallyBedford's voice came, hard and determined. "We've got to meet them. The question is, what're their damned intentions?"
Ruyters picked up his lantern and extinguished it. "By my thinking the first thing you'd best do is man those guns down there on the Point, and then make your enquiries. You can't let them into the bay. We've got shipping there, sir. And a fortune in cargo. There'll be hell to pay, I promise you, if I lose so much as a florin in goods."
Bedfordgazed down the hill, toward the gun emplacements at the ocean cliff. "Aye, but we don't yet know why the fleet's come. We've only had rumors."
"At least one of those rumors was based on fact, sir." Briggs had moved beside them. "I have it on authority, from my broker inLondon, that an Act was reported from the Council of State four weeks past to embargo our shipping till the Assembly votes recognition of the Commonwealth. He even sent me a copy. And this fleet was already being pulled together at the time. I don't know how many men-o'-war they've sent, but I heard the flagship was to be theRainbowe. Fifty guns." He looked back at the Assembly. "And the surest way to put an end to our prosperity now would be to resist."
He was rudely shouted down by several Assemblymen, royalists cursing the Commonwealth. The air came alive with calls for defiance.
"Well, we're going to find out what they're about before we do anything, one way or the other."Bedfordlooked around him. "We've got guns down there in the breastwork. I'd say we can at least keep them out of the bay for now."
"Not without gunners, you won't." Ruyters' voice was somber. "Who've you got here? Show me a man who's ever handled a linstock, and I'll give you leave to hang me. And I'll not be lending you my lads, though I'd dearly love to. It'd be a clear act of war."
Winston was staring down at the shore, toward his own waiting seamen. If the English navy enteredCarlisleBay, the first vessel they'd confiscate would be theDefiance.
"God help me." He paused a moment longer, then walked to the edge of the hill and drew a pistol. The shot echoed through the morning silence.
The report brought a chorus of yells from the shore. Suddenly a band of seamen were charging up the hill, muskets at the ready, led by John Mewes. Winston waited till they topped the rise, then he gestured them forward. "All gunnery mates report to duty at the breastwork down there at the Point, on the double." He pointed toward the row of rusty cannon overlooking the bay. "Master Gunner Tom Canninge's in charge."
Several of the men gave a loose salute and turned to hurry down the hill. Winston watched them go, then looked back atBedford. "How much powder do you have?"
"Powder? I'm not sure anybody knows. We'll have to check the magazine over there."Bedfordgestured toward a low building situated well behind the breastwork, surrounded by its own stone fortification. "I'd say there's likely a dozen barrels or so."
Winston glanced at Mewes. "Go check it, John. See if it's usable."
"Aye." Mewes passed his musket to one of the French seamen and was gone.
"And that rusty pile of round shot I see down there by the breastwork? Is that the best you've got?"
"That's all we have on the Point. There's more shot atJamestownand over at Oistins."