Mistress of Darkness (27 page)

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It is an outrage, sir, an outrage,' declared Meinheer Schotter.

Admiral Sir George Bridges Rodney regarded him with a total contempt. 'On the contrary, sir. You may regard it as an act of charity, in that I have refrained from giving your town over to a sack. Now, sir, if you will take your place with your people, I shall address them.'

Schotter attempted to meet the cold stare, then turned and walked back to join the assembled merchants. Rodney nodded and slowly climbed the three steps to the improvised dais his men had made for him; he was troubled by one of his regular attacks of gout, but did not wish to limp before these layabouts. And indeed he was a dominating figure, not tall, but with a full face and a thrusting chin, square shoulders and an utter confidence, gained from a career which had hardly once tasted failure, which affected his mouth no less than his eyes no less than his every movement; he wore a plain blue frock-coat over white vest and breeches, and a blue cocked hat. But the very utility rather than splendour of his dress seemed a threat And this was a score he had long meant to settle; his dislike for the smugglers of St. Eustatius, and those who would use them to their advantage, reached back thirty years to when he had first commanded a ship in the West Indies, and found it impossible to bring the proud planters to heel.

Now he faced the assembly, and dried his hands with a towel presented by his aide. He thought it was a splendid sight, and lingered on it for some seconds; against the backdrop of the twin mountains and the neat town, the burghers of Statia and their women, and their slaves, were gathered in a crowd on the rain-damp street which fringed the harbour; to their left was a battalion of his own marines, splendid in their red jackets, rigidly at attention, not a man appearing to do so much as breathe; to their right were gathered the itinerants discovered here, the real villains, in the admiral's opinion. And behind him waited his fleet, and their captives, their guns run out and overseeing almost every inch of the island, while their boats plied to and fro with ceaseless energy, transferring the treasures of this Aladdin's Cave to the safety of British holds, and in the process, he did not doubt, making himself a millionaire and every sailor he commanded at the very least a comfortable present.

He smiled at the crowd, at the hostility in their faces. Nothing so angers a man, he reflected, as to have to watch himself becoming a pauper.

He nodded to his flag captain, and the signal was given. The marine drummer struck up a roll, and the Dutch flag was slowly lowered from the staff over the town hall, while the Union Jack was run up in its place.

The admiral cleared his throat, waited for the last echoes to drift across the harbour. ‘I take possession of this island, in the name of His Majesty King George the Third, of Great Britain and France, and of the British Empire, Defender of the Faith.' He paused and gazed at them. 'This war is not of our choosing,' he said. 'Least of all with Holland, a country with whom for too long we have been allies to withstand the might of France, a country with whom, less than a hundred years ago, we shared a great king. But your States General would have it so. However, it is my duty to inform you that your lives and properties shall be respected, provided you undertake to live peacefully beneath the British flag.'

'What of our warehouses?' someone demanded.

Rodney's gaze swept along their ranks. 'Those goods are confiscated,' he said. 'As contraband of war.' He turned, to look at the non-Dutch assembly to his right. 'Of you people,' he said, 'the French are legally prisoners of war, but I have neither the means nor the inclination of imprisoning you, and I am therefore providing you with a ship to return to St. Domingue, or Martinique, or wherever it is you wish.'

Again he paused, to allow a whisper of delighted relief to filter along the ranks.

'The rest of you,' he said, 'whether English or American, are traitorous dogs.' He allowed his brows to come together in a frown. 'Guilty at the very least, of smuggling and of contravening His Majesty's Navigation Acts. I should be well within my rights were I to hang every one of you, and God knows I am tempted. But it so happens that my ships need men. Our mission is to seek out the French fleet here in the West Indies, and destroy it. We need to be fully manned for that contest, for be sure de Grasse shall outnumber us. Therefore I am prepared to commute your proper sentences to service on board my men-of-war for the duration of this war. You will assemble on the beach down there for division amongst my captains.'

There was a moment's silence, then Suzanne Huys cried, 'No.' Dirk attempted to hold her arm, but she evaded him and ran forward, holding her broad-brimmed hat on to her head, until she reached the dais, where the marine sentries restrained her with crossed muskets.

'What means this?' Rodney looked down at her, frowning.

'You cannot condemn them all,' Suzanne insisted. 'They are not all smugglers, or traitors. Nor are they all common men so to be treated. My own cousin is amongst them.'

'And this is of importance?' Rodney demanded. 'Or do you mean that a Dutchman has got himself included amongst the English? What is your name, woman?'

'My name is Suzanne Huys,' Suzanne said. 'But I am the sister of Robert Hilton, of Plantation Hilltop in Jamaica. You'll have heard of him.'

The admiral continued to frown. 'I am acquainted with Mr. Hilton, Frau Huys. It seems to me, however, that by marrying a Hollander you have removed yourself from his protection. Not that I am aware of your being offered any harm. Has one of my men insulted you?'

Suzanne shook her head impatiently, and took off her hat. 'I do not speak of myself, Admiral Rodney. But amongst those men over there is my cousin, Matthew Hilton, sent to stay with us to learn the intricacies of trade. Matt is the heir to the Hilton estates. You cannot condemn him to impressment.'

'Madam,' Rodney declared. 'I care not if he is the cousin of the King. He is living and working in an enemy territory, and must be considered in tiiat light. And believe me, I am being far too lenient as it is. Did I not need men so desperately he'd be hanging by now. And he stands doubly condemned from your own mouth. Sent here to learn trade? To learn the art of smuggling, more like. Oh, I well know the subterfuge of you West Indians. You may be able to frighten the Government with your wealth and your affectations, but by God, madam, I have served here before, as no doubt you are aware, and I know the plantocracy for as disloyal and faithless a pack of scoundrels as this earth has had the misfortune to produce.' He glanced at his flag captain. 'Have the fellow brought out.'

Suzanne stared at the admiral in a mixture of dismay and anger, as two of the marines marched Matt from the crowd of prisoners. He was also flushed and angry, embarrassed at having been singled out. And now, too, Dirk had come forward, sorely puzzled by Suzanne's action, but endeavouring to soothe her.

She kept her temper and her voice under control with an obvious effort. 'You'll see we are related, Admiral,' she said.

Rodney looked from one to the other. 'Oh, indeed you are, madam. But the boy looks fit and strong. He will make a good sailor. Eh, lad?'

'Mistress Huys is telling the truth, sir,' Matt declared. 'I am Robert Hilton's cousin and heir. You'd do well to bear that in mind.'

'Insolent dog,' shouted the marine sergeant, and struck Matt on the face. Angrily the boy swung his own fist, but was brought up short by a musket barrel thrust into his chest.

Rodney almost smiled. 'Spirit, by God. I hope that all his companions are similarly endowed. You'll do well at sea, Master Hilton. And there is much to do. Come, come, lad, you're a patriot, surely, even if you are a West Indian. The country needs you. Needs us all. Have you not heard how disasters pile thick and fast upon old England? Have you not heard that Lord Cornwallis has surrendered his entire army?'

He gazed at them, half smiling at the consternation which had crept into their faces, whether Dutch or English.

'Aye,' he said. 'They seek to bring us down. But they have not yet beaten Rodney, by God. You'll not backslide, Master Hilton, if that is your name. We'll find de Grasse together, lad, and send him to the bottom, together. March them to the beach, Captain.'

'No,' Suzanne shouted. 'No, you cannot.'

'Indeed madam,' Rodney commented. 'I would almost imagine the youth to be your brother, from your concern. Remember this; you are a prisoner of war. You are all prisoners of war. There is nothing, madam,
nothing,
that I cannot do.'

She flushed, and bit her lip. But yet she met his gaze. ‘You may find you are mistaken, sir,' she said, speaking more quietly. 'You take my cousin at your peril.'

Rodney stared at her for several seconds, once again frowning. 'Mine is a perilous life, madam,' he said at last. 'If I except one, I must except them all, and I need men. England needs men. Our business is the protection of those very plantations you say will one day belong to this boy. I'll fight them as I choose. Now you, sir ...' he pointed to Dirk. 'Remove that woman before I forget myself as an officer and a gentleman. And dismiss this crowd, Douglas.' This to his flag officer. But as he turned to descend from the dais, he added in a lower voice, 'You'd best have that lad placed on board
Formidable,
whence I can keep an eye on him.'

'Come on, come on,' roared the quartermaster. 'Up those ladders, you hounds of hell. God curse you for a pack of slovenly landlubbers.'

The powder team gasped, sweat-wet bare feet slithering on the rungs of the ladders, fingers desperately clutching the barrels on their shoulders, lungs reaching for the fresh air which drifted down from the upper decks to dispel the odorous miasmas of the orlop. They debouched on to the gun deck and those whose loads were intended for these heavy culverins gratefully came to a halt; the unfortunates who were destined for the main deck ran for the next ladders, while the quartermaster flicked his knotted rope impatiently.

Matt ran with the rest, sweat pouring from the handkerchief which bound his head, dribbling into his eyes; his team served the quarterdeck and had the farthest distance to travel. And wondered why. Why did he not stop and say, I am no slave, no donkey, to be worked like a beast? Why indeed? Because all the other pressed men ran, and he ran with them? Because he was afraid of the quartermaster's rope's end? He had already had a slice across the back, his third day on board, and all but turned to strike the man. But then, he had remembered the articles which had been read to them that very first day, when the fleet had still lain at anchor off Statia. To disobey an order, even to hesitate in obeying an order, could mean death. It seemed utterly incredible, that the whim of a man he'd carelessly kick to one side should they meet on Kingston High Street, could end his life. But then, the whole situation seemed incredible.

He had never considered life, or death, before. He was alive, and would remain so for the next fifty or sixty years. Time enough to worry when that span was nearly complete. The Hiltons did not die young, as a rule. Father had been the exception, and Father had been unlucky, his ship overwhelmed by a hurricane when desperately beating for the shelter of English Harbour. So then, was the son also to be

unlucky? They sought Monsieur de Grasse, as the officers sneeringly remarked. Who could tell what would happen then? Who could tell how many stout fellows would die, or be horribly mutilated? What good would the name Matthew Hilton be then?

He panted to a halt beside the cannon which had been designated his responsibility for feeding. His breath seemed to be reaching from the very pit of his belly, and still not very successfully filling his lungs. His heart beat so loud it made the day swing. And yet, he was happy enough to be one of the quarterdeck crew. From here he could see the sea, and even the land. The fleet made south, reaching before the trade wind, inside the circle of islands. The cloud on the port beam was the fabled forest of Dominica, the cannibal isle, home of the fierce people against whom the Warners and the Hiltons had waged unceasing and pitiless war. The Caribs still controlled most of the island, although they had been taught sufficient of a lesson by Philip Warner, a century ago, no longer to indulge in raids upon neighbouring European settlements.

'Seven minutes, Mr. Arbuckle,' said Lieutenant Hill, the gunnery officer. 'Too long, sir. Too long. These scoundrels must be driven to it. Use your rope's end, sir. Use your rope's end. Now we'll have it again.'

'Aye, aye, sir,' the quartermaster said. 'Come on, you land-lubberly devils. Down to the hold for more powder.'

The men turned wearily, for the moment faced the wheel, behind which the officer of the watch patrolled ceaselessly, and above that the poop, the sanctuary of the admiral and Sir Charles Douglas, his flag captain. Rodney was there now, gazing down at the waist, accompanied by Captain Symonds, master of the
Formidable.

'Swine,' muttered the fellow next to Matt, a plantation overseer from St. Kitts. 'By Christ, I'd like to meet him one dark night outside Basseterre.'

'There's a dream,' Matt agreed. 'But only a dream, Davis. If the froggies don't get us be sure we'll die of exhaustion.'

'Avast there,' bellowed Arbuckle. 'Cease talking. Fall out that man.'

They waited at the head of the companionway, staring stonily in front of themselves. This much they had learned, even in the few days they had been on board. But whether on instructions from aft, or whether it was merely because he carried himself differently to the other pressed men, Matt was marked.

'You there, Hilton,' Arbuckle snapped. 'You spoke. Don't lie to me, man. What did you say?'

Matt gazed at him. By heaven, he thought, but Davis is right; if I happen to survive this miserable adventure, I'll go
looking
for you.

'Speak up,' roared Arbuckle, his rope flailing the air, the knotted end catching Matt on the shoulder. Instinctively his fists came up, but Davis held his arm.