HF - 01 - Caribee (39 page)

'The Dons caught them?
’

'We watched from the hill top. There was firing, and Billy Smith fell. Maybe he was killed. He was that lucky. They got the girls, and Harry and Joe Smith as well.'

They cut off his feet,' Margaret Plummer said tonelessly. 'Just cut them off at the ankles, and left him there. And his wrists. They cut off his hands at the wrists, and smeared the stumps with honey, and left him on the beach, to the sandflies.'

Edward stared at O'Reilly in horror.

'Fact, Ted. 'Tis what they have threatened to do to every interloper they find in these waters.'

'He screamed,' Margaret said. 'And screamed, and

screamed. I asked Paddy to go down and put a bullet in him, but he wouldn'
t
.'

They'd have got me too,' O'Reilly objected. 'Long before I could have got close enough to hit him right. But I'll admit it was a terrible sound.'

'And the women? What happened to the girls?
’

Connor grinned. 'Well, Ted, they was taken too, like we said. They screamed too.'

'But afterwards?' Edward demanded. 'What about afterwards?'

'Now, that we don'
t
know, Ted, lad,' O'Reilly said.
‘
You left them?"

There was nothing we could do,' Susan suddenly shouted.
‘
What, two men, and two women, one of them pregnant? There was nothing we could do.'

'So you came here.'

'Man, it takes a lot of guts to paddle a canoe across
that
strait,' O'Reilly said. 'More
than
once I figured we was for it.'

'Aye,' Edward said.
‘It
takes a lot of guts. Your friends are over there, Paddy. And they've found a couple of bo
tt
les. Mrs Plummer, Yarico is with us. She'll look after you.'

They hesitated, and walked up the sand. Susan started to follow them, and then checked. He could not see her face properly, in the darkness.

‘
Ye'd have done the same, Edward.'

'Maybe.' Edward knelt beside the canoe. Three muskets, but less than twenty ball and scarce sufficient powder for two discharges. Two swords, and a pistol without any charge at all. Oh, they had left in a hurry, all right.

'Maybe? Ye'd not fight at Sandy Point.'

'My own people, Susan? No, I'd not fight on those terms.'

'And that sticks in your craw?"

T
hat you'd not say goodbye. Neith
er you nor Tony. Nor Paddy O'Reilly, nor any of the others.'

'Maybe we thought ye'd let us down. Oh, for Christ's sake.' Her shoulders rose and fell.
‘I
'm sorr
y it turned out
that
way, Ted. I still dream about ye. But it'll not do me much good now, will it?"

'And the boy?
’

'His name will be Hilton.'

He took her elbow and they walked up the beach behind the others. 'That's fair enough. You expect Tony back?" 'He's my husband.'

'Well, you'd best pray he comes soon. You'd not figured the Dons will be here next?"

'They're on their way now, Edward,' Aline Galante said, from the bushes close by the beach,

'For Christ's sake,' Susan said.

'Aline?' Edward peered into t
he gloom. 'What in the name of G
od....'

‘I
followed you through the forest,' Aline explained. 'But when it got dark I lost you. And then I heard your people singing.'

'She is French,' Susan said in wonderment.

‘I
wonder what she is,' Edward said. 'Aline, did you not hear the shots and the shouts of the men searching for you?'

'Oh, yes,' she said. 'But I could not go
out. My gown is torn, and my sh
ift as well. And
then
I saw you take your people along the beach, and knew
that
you intended to remain, so I thought I had best do the same. Edward, I am so terribly hungry.'

'But your father. ...'

'Was like a madman on the beach. He
had to be forcibly carried on b
oard the ships. I think Uncle Pierre must have convinced him I was dead. Edward, I am also terribly thirsty.'

'But....' he scratched Ins head. 'You saw the Dons, you say?"

'Yes. They weighed anchor at sunset. The breeze is light. They will not be here before morning'

'But do you not understand? They will land and burn the town. They will come looking for us. They will hunt us like dogs. We shall have to exist in the forest, if we can exist at all. You have all but condemned yourself to death.'

'But I will have you to look after me,' sh
e pointed out. 'And you know thi
s forest be
tt
er than any Spaniard. You must understand, Edward, that I could not possibly return alone to Papa and tell him of my situation. With you gone, he would surely have whipped me. But when he returns, after the Spaniards, why, then we
will be able to explain the cir
cumstances to him. They may even seem more natural, then.'

'Your situation?' Susan inquired with interest. 'Ah, I see that Master Warner has been up to his old tricks.'

'We are betroth
ed, madame.' Aline gave a contemptuous glance at Susan's belly.
‘I
am assuming it is madame? But unfortunately, we cannot make our love known at this moment, because our two countries are at war, and Edward is indeed nothing be
tt
er than an escaped prisoner. Yet I cannot desert him.'

'By Christ, she's a lady,' Susan said. 'Ye'll be the second lady on St Christopher, mademoiselle. Tis not an a
tt
itude we're accustomed to.'

‘I
ndeed?' Aline demanded. "Then I had best see about redressing the situation.'

'God give me patience,' Edward cried. 'Will the pair of you stop cha
tt
ering? Aline, your father is not coming back. Belain has abandoned the colony and means to return to France. If he does ever return here, it will not be for years.'

She stared at him, frowning.

'And in addition, we are not betrothed. I raped you. Can you not understand that? I felt lust for you and anger against your people, and the pair of those emotions got the be
tt
er of me. How can you talk about love?'

‘I
must gr
ow to love you, monsieur,' Aline pointed out, her voice suddenly cold. 'As it appears that now most certainly we are to be man and wife. This is a duty I have long known would be required of me, and I do promise you that I shall endeavour to perform it to the best of my ability.'

'God's truth,' Susan said.

'Of course,' Aline continued.
‘If
you find it impossible to love me, then I shall be forced into a solitary existence, yet it is your duty, as a
gentle
man and as my husband, to honour me and respect me, at least in our outward relations. I do not know what this woman is to you, but I did understand from my uncle and even my father that you were a
gentle
man born, and I expected to be so treated. Which is to say that our private affairs should not be discussed in front of anyone.'

'God's truth,' Susan said again. Edward scratched his head.

'So I would be obliged, monsieur,' Aline concluded,
‘If
you would either provide me with food or kill me now. That would be preferable to a slow death from starvation.'

Edward sighed. 'There is food at the house, mademoiselle. And I apologize for any rudeness I may have shown or any inconvenience I may have caused you. You are of
course welcome to share in
whatever I and my people have to share, until some be
tt
er arrangement can be made.'

'God's truth,' Susan said a third time.

‘I’
d be obliged if you'd take Mademoiselle Galante to the encampment, Susan, and see that she is fed and given something to chink. And Susan, she is in your charge. Be sure that if any insult is given her I'll break the head of the man responsible.'

'You'll do that?
’
she asked.

'Aye, me. Tell Paddy O'Reilly to have a talk with Terry Yeats. Now be off with you,' 'While you do what?'
‘I
've a spell of thinking to do.'

He walked away from them, and into the forest. A spell of thinking. It seemed as if all the problems in the world had suddenly closed in on him, in a ma
tt
er of hours. That the Spaniards would land and destroy Sandy Point and everything else they could find, seemed certain. That they would launch themselves into a full scale hunt for any white men on the island was at least likely, and that they would torture and maim whoever they found was as certain as anything else on this earth; they did not regard heretic intruders in their world as human. That twenty odd people condemned to exist in the forest would very likely starve to death was no less likely, even with the aid of Yarico. The
Indian
s were used to a diet of fish, and fish required the spreading of nets off the shore, hi the open and with a great deal of time at the disposal of the fishermen.

That Susan and Paddy O'Reilly and Brian Connor would prove disruptive elements was no less certain. They felt contempt for him, and Paddy O'Reilly would regard himself as a different proposition to Yeats. That Yarico would do nothing to make life easier for him was also not open to doubt. And that Aline Galante would prove a continuing problem was most certain of all. Aline Galante. Truly it could be said that one's sins came home to roost. He dared not allow himself to consider his own feelings to
wards the girl, beyond a compul
sive admiration for the remarkable way in which she had accepted the consequences of her ghastly mistake. It occurred to him that she was probably the most remarkable woman he had ever met.

He climbed, for hours, up and then down. He found the place he was looking for, and eventually slept, on his belly, face pillowed on his hands, worn out by exhaustion and tension. And awoke soon after dawn, to peer down at Sandy Point and Great Road and the armada which had appeared there. Endless ships, all he had seen at sea yesterday morning and perhaps more, most at anchor but s
ome still arriving and taking th
eir positions. Boats ferried men ashore, and the beach seemed to have become a solid mass of gli
tt
ering pinpoints as the first rays of the sun picked out the shining morions and breastplates, the halberd points and the sword handles. It was a splendid picture, the steel being set off by the crimson doublets and the flu
tt
er of their flags, dominant amongst which was the red and gold of Spain. There were too many to be counted, but he could estimate several hundred men on shore already. And now he coul
d see the dogs. Would he had hi
s own to set against them. But they had gone with Belain, and the French fleet was lost beyond the horizon.

He waited, for the puffs of smoke to arise from the town, and saw
nothing
. Save the men, patrolling the street, no doubt exploring the houses. The Dons had not come to destroy, yet. For others w
ere investigating the corn
fields and the tobacco plantations, talking amongst
them
selves, good fellows and honest husbands, who had ye
sterday raped two girls to death
and cut off the hands and feet of their male victims because they were not considered part of the human race.

He watched a group of officers on the beach. A table had been erected, with stools, and they were spreading maps, rough sketches, apparently, for each peak had to be identified with pointing fingers. But they were planning a campaign. They meant to scour the island. Hardly more
than
thirty square miles in which to hide, and the dogs would soon reduce that to nothing. Already a file of men was ascending Brimstone Hill; the two cannon would be the first to go.

He got up, turned his back on the invaders, and climbed once more into the woods. Caribee. He was still more than half
Indian
, in his strength, the ease and the purpose with which he traversed this forest. Yet would even that strength avail him, running, before the dogs? And how could he teach the Irishmen to move as he did? Or Philip, for
that
ma
tt
er. Or the pregnant Susan? Or Al
ine, used to ballrooms and topi
aried garden paths?

He checked, as he approached the windward shore. The sun was high now, and sweat streamed down his body. He was afraid of them, because it had always been his nature to be afraid. He was, despite his victory, afraid of Yeats and his companions, afraid of Paddy O'Reilly, his strength and his determination, should he ever seek to use it. He was afraid of Susan's tongue as he was afraid of Yarico's anger, as he was equally afraid of Aline's trust. And Philip? He was afraid even of Philip's eventual usurpation of his rights.

But was he not, of them all, the only one without cause to fear? Did they not fear him in even greater proportion? Could he not turn his back on them, and survive? Even on Yarico, encumbered as she was with Li
tt
le Tom. He needed none of them. Without him, without his leadership no less
than
his knowledge of this forest, they would be helpless, easy victims for the Dons and the dogs.

He walked across the sand. An amazing thought, because it was just as likely that the Dons, unaware of the massacre at Blood River, knowing only that the French had sailed away, would also be
afraid. It would be no more than
the nervous tension of men about to go into ba
tt
le, uncertain of what was opposed to them, unknowing which of them would survive the coining days. But it was none the less fear. A fear which could be made to grow.