Pirates! (5 page)

The next day, my father was to be buried at St Mary Redcliffe, the church that he had attended since he was a boy. He’d never missed a Sunday when he was in Bristol; now he’d be there for ever more.

The church was dim and gloomy. Black clouds outside threatened more rain and brought darkness to the early afternoon. The candles were lit, their flames guttering as more mourners entered. The only splash of brightness was Ned’s red jacket; then, as I turned round, my eyes caught a glitter and spark. Bartholome had come in behind us. Halfway to the altar, he dropped to one knee in genuflection. The diamond cross he wore on his chest swung out, catching the candlelight and shining like a constellation of stars in the gloomy aisle. People shook their heads in disbelief and disgust. No one had done such a thing here for more than a hundred years. Nostrils flared at this whiff of popery and the God-fearing folk of Bristol turned away in disapproval. Bartholome seemed unconcerned and, when he saw me staring, he smiled, his gap-tooth grin white against his black beard. Susan dug me in the back, as if I needed reminding not to gawk about at my father’s funeral.

The service was over quickly. We were soon all filing out into the driving rain. Only my father remained behind, soon to lie under the flagstones where all men walked.

My brothers had commissioned an alabaster plaque to be carved, with no cost spared. The design was to be of things to do with the sea and the plantation: ships, sugar cane, kneeling slaves. There was to be a weeping fountainhead at the top, the mark of my father’s business, and a skull in the corner, like on the other memorials: a reminder that death comes to us all.

The will was read in my father’s study. I was not yet sixteen, and not invited to attend. Henry and Joseph were appointed my joint guardians. Henry was to take over the business in Bristol, with Joseph going to Jamaica. They quarrelled about that as they had quarrelled about everything else since they were boys. Henry prevailed just as he always did. Besides, it was father’s will. Even Joseph would not defy his dying wish, although it left him angry and resentful, muttering that Henry had always been Father’s favourite and had the best of everything. I almost felt sorry for him, but when I offered my sympathy, he told me to save it for myself.

‘You’re coming with me. Didn’t you know?’

I had no idea. The shock I showed at the news quite cheered him.

‘Why? Why should I go?’

He put his hands together in mock prayer. ‘Father’s will.’

I was living in a house of secrets. Everyone knew more than I did. Even Susan.

I went in search of her, and found her in my bedroom sorting through my summer clothes.

‘I’m sorry for it, Miss Nancy, I truly am. It’ll not be the same with you gone.’

‘You knew, didn’t you?’

Susan nodded.

‘Why did you not tell me?’

‘I was told not to.’ She busied herself folding and refolding one of my dresses.

‘But why?’

‘In case ... in case you ran away – ’

‘Ran away!’ I sat down on the bed, mystified. ‘Where would I go?’

‘I’m sure I couldn’t say ... ’ Susan looked at her hands. She was hiding something else. I could tell by her face.

‘Well?’

‘The Missis thought you might panic and bolt off.’

‘Who with? Where to?’

‘With William. ’Twasn’t me, Miss.’ She hurried on. ‘Honest. I never said a word, but she’s got eyes in her head. She seen you with him at Bath.’

‘I’ve not even heard from him.’

Pride made it hard for me to admit this, for I had expected word from him and that hope had been the only bright spot in all this grey misery, but every day my hope had faded. Now its stock was almost nothing.

‘I dare say it’s for the best,’ Susan said, with a false jollity. ‘You’ll probably meet some young planter out there with pots of money.’

‘I don’t want any young planter.’ I stared at her. ‘You know something else, don’t you? What is it, Susan? Tell me!’

She looked at me, obviously in two minds.

‘He called.’

‘When?’

‘Just before the Master was took bad.’

‘Why was I not told?’

‘Been forgotten in all the confusion.’ She hesitated, unsure whether to go on. ‘There was a note, though,’ she said, finally. ‘From him.’

I felt my expectation unfurling from the place where I had folded it away.

‘When? What did it say?’

‘T’other day. What it said, I couldn’t say. Missis got hold of it and threw it in the back of the fire. Said that what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you. Notes from him would only put ideas in your head and encourage you to do summat stupid.’

‘But you could still have told me!’

‘She said if you found out, she’d know who’d told you, and she’d dismiss me.’ Susan began to cry, dabbed at her eyes with her apron.

I reached for my writing things. ‘Perhaps it’s not too late. I could send a note to William.’

‘There’d be no point.’ Susan sniffed and shook her head. ‘Navy left for Portsmouth this morning. Cook told me. Her Noah is serving on one of the ships. I am sorry, Miss, truly! But there’s nothing you can do!’

She was right. I could do nothing to prevent what was happening to me, so I helped to sort my summer clothes, taking them out of their presses ready to be packed into trunks. As I worked, I tried to put William out of my mind, but how could I? Where was he? What would he think of me? To send word, and yet to receive no reply? I certainly would have run away with him, if I had known, if the chance had been offered to me. My life seemed blighted. Bleak as a winter’s day.

I didn’t blame Susan. She had been a true friend, and I didn’t want to think ill of her. I even gave her some trifles of jewellery: a pearl brooch that she’d always fancied, along with a coral necklace and matching earrings.

Perhaps Mrs Wilkes sensed a change in me, or perhaps she felt sorry now for what she had done, for that night she treated me differently. She poured chocolate from her special silver pot and talked about my new life in Jamaica and what would be expected of me. It was as if I had crossed some kind of line, some invisible divide between girl and womanhood.

‘It’s a shock for a young girl ... ’ She paused, pleating her skirt with her fingers. ‘Especially at first. Not at all what one expects. Takes some getting used to ... ’

‘I’m sure,’ I said, thinking that she was still talking about life on a plantation.

‘I’m the nearest thing you have to a mother, so it rests on me ... ’ She paused again.

I looked at her expectantly. She was rarely at a loss for something to say.

‘But he’s hardly ever at home, so I hear,’ she finished. ‘So he shouldn’t bother you over much.’

She hurried off to organise Susan and to supervise the last of the packing. I followed after her and the conversation went out of my mind. In the morning, I would be departing. I had other things to think about. Anyway, I thought that she was talking about Joseph. And since when had he bothered me?

It draws a bitter laugh, even now, to think that I was ever so naive.

g

g

Chapter 8

I don’t know how many days I kept to my cabin, confined by seasickness and general wretchedness. The steward, Abe Reynolds, came and went, bringing me food I couldn’t even look at without wanting to heave.

‘You got to eat, Miss,’ he said, tugging at one of his long earlobes and looking aggrieved as I rejected yet another little delicacy meant to tempt me. ‘Perhaps you’re in need of some air. Ship’s steady now. Wind’s set fair. How about a turn on the deck? Other passengers find it quite a reviver.’

I told him I had no desire for company of any sort.

‘Prefer your own, do you?’ he asked, taking my tray of untouched food.

‘I do,’ I said firmly.

It was not strictly true, and the time I was spending in solitary reflection was only adding to my misery, but there was no one I wanted to see, no one I could count as a friend to me, and I did not like the thought of being among strangers.

When another knock came at the door, I thought it was Abe again and I told him to go away, but the knocking persisted. A voice I did not recognise demanded entry. I went to answer, stepping down on to a deck that no longer shifted and tilted. It was as steady as a drawing-room floor, but I still staggered as I opened the door and nearly fell into the arms of the man standing before me.

He helped me back into the cabin and sat me down in a chair. He was crew of some sort, but clearly a gentleman, with shoes and stockings on his feet, and although in shirt sleeves, he wore a waistcoat.

I guessed his hair to be sandy under his powdered wig, for his face was pale and speckled with freckles. His eyebrows were bleached almost white and grew tangled and thick, jutting like loops of unravelling rope. His eyes were a faded blue, as if the sun had taken the colour from them, too. He had the worried, tired air of a man who takes the troubles of others on to himself. He looked as if the sight of me had increased his burden still more.

‘What do you want?’ I asked.

‘To see you.’ He rolled his sleeves higher. ‘I’m Graham, Niall Graham. Ship’s surgeon. I’ve come to see how you are.’

‘Very well, thank you.’

‘That’s not what I hear.’

‘Why should you care? I’m not your patient.’

‘You have no choice.’ He gave a wan smile. ‘Everyone on board is my patient, be they passenger or crew.’ He came closer. ‘Now let me see you. I can’t have Miss Kington falling sick. Your family owns this ship. How would that look on my record?’

‘I am not sick.’

‘That’s for me to judge. Reynolds tells me you will take no sustenance.’ He held down my lids and looked into my eyes. ‘Bodily affliction is not the only illness we have to fear. It is possible to fall into melancholy.’ Somehow he knew. His blue eyes might be faded, but they were shrewd and astute. ‘I am a doctor. The nearest thing we have to a priest on board. Talk eases the soul, or so they say.’ He held his arm towards me. ‘Perhaps you would do me the honour of taking a turn or two about the deck. The fresh air will do you good, Abe is right about that, and I always find talk comes easier when accompanied by exercise.’

I went with him up the companionway and stepped into a light which hurt my eyes. I wanted to turn and go back to the dark and gloom below decks, to hide myself away again, but Graham gently urged me forward. My sight cleared to see white sails against blue sky. I felt the sun burning through my dress, and turned to feel a warm wind on my face. It would be hard for me to admit, but I was glad to have exchanged the stuffy confines of my cabin for the open deck. I had closed myself off for too long, beset by melancholy, as Graham had rightly judged. From that moment on, I began to feel better. He was a clever doctor.

Graham offered me his arm, and I took it. I felt the urge to confide even though I did not know this man. As we paced the deck I found myself telling him everything. It was nearing midday and the sun grew hot. Graham led me to the shelter of the quarterdeck and there we stayed, using a couple of upturned buckets for seats, until I had finished my tale.

Graham listened with great seriousness, and did not offer false cheerfulness. He agreed that, indeed, my position was grave.

‘But you should not give up hope. You are young. There’s always hope for the young. And this young man of yours, William, he’ll not give up on you. He’s a stout fellow.’

‘You speak as though you know him.’

‘Indeed, I do. We served together.’

‘On the slave ship, the
Amelia
?’

‘The very one!’

‘Why did you not say earlier?’

He laughed. ‘You scarcely gave me the chance. He was a good lad and did his duty in difficult circumstances, believe me. I’m glad he’s joined the Navy. He will make an excellent officer. I’m pleased to hear that he is doing well in the service.’

The thought of William brought all my sorrows back again.

‘He doesn’t know where I am! Or what has happened!’ I had not yet cried, but now tears pricked my eyes. ‘I had no time to explain to him. He will think I’ve forgotten him, or deserted him for another ... ’

‘Now, now, my dear.’ Graham patted my hand. ‘We’ll get a message to him; acquaint him with what has occurred.’

‘How?’

‘Write him a letter. On my return to England, I promise to deliver it myself.’

Just then, our conversation was interrupted by another officer.

‘There you are, Graham.’ He swung in under the jutting timbers of the quarterdeck. ‘Is this your idea of how to entertain a young lady? Have her sitting on an upturned bucket like a swab? For shame! You should have taken her to the grand cabin for a glass of punch or a dish of tea.’

He looked down at me, his brown eyes shining. He was about thirty, younger than Graham, and handsome in a florid kind of way. His broad face split into a grin and I found myself smiling back at him. ‘My name is Adam Broom. I’m first mate here and navigator. You must be Miss Kington. How d’you do?’ He held out his hand and shook mine like a man’s. ‘Glad to see you feeling better.’ He kept hold of my hand and pulled me to my feet. ‘He is a grisly fellow.’ He nodded towards Graham. ‘He’s no use with ladies. Always talking about illnesses and other gruesome subjects. I hope his company has not distressed you too much.’

I had not laughed for a long time, but Broom’s teasing made my smile.

‘I’m not distressed because of that!’

‘Miss Kington wants me to get a message to her young man,’ Graham supplied.

‘Oh,’ Broom turned to me with his quick bright eyes. ‘What young man is that?’

‘Young William,’ Graham replied.

‘William? Which William? Every other tar is a William.’

‘Ship’s boy on the
Amelia
.
You
remember.’

‘Oh.
That
William.’

‘He’s Navy now.’

‘
Is
he?’

‘Could we get a message to him, d’you think?’

‘I’m sure we could. Between us we know someone on every ship in the fleet.’

I knew they exaggerated, but the promise cheered me, as did their company. It was part of Graham’s treatment, as I realised much later. The idea of writing to William gave me hope, and that’s what I needed, even though I thought at the time that my message was as likely to reach him as if I had cast it over the side in a bottle.

‘Don’t it feel good to be in the sun again?’ Broom turned closed lids up to the great bright disc above us, and bid me do the same. ‘Feel the wind warming the skin.’ I opened my eyes to find him smiling at me. ‘That’s the Trades, Miss Kington, set fair to take us straight to the Islands. Damned if my soul doesn’t lift as soon as we are beyond the line. I long for southern climes, not like Graham here who pines for a landsman’s life and longs to hang his doctor’s shingle in some fetid, fog-bound northern town. This is your first trip, I take it?’

‘Indeed, Sir, it is,’ I replied.

‘I envy you then, Miss Kington. Indeed, I do. To view the Islands for the first time, with fresh eyes. To see their mountains and forests rising up from the sea, like emeralds heaped on a silver salver.’ He described a distant land with his hands, his eyes fixed on the southern horizon. ‘And when you get there! Such riches! Such beauty! Little birds, smaller than this,’ he made a walnut shape, curling his fingers into a fist, ‘more brilliant than any jewel, flitting about flowers brighter than any silk that you will ever see. Fruit for the picking, sweet as anything you could name; the very air about you, scented with spices. The Islands are paradise on earth, it seems to me. You could search the world over, and not find their equal anywhere on it.’

‘Why do you not live there?’ I asked, ‘if you find it so agreeable. Keep an inn perhaps, or be a planter, or trader.’

‘Oh, no, Miss Kington,’ he shook his head vigorously, as if shocked by the very idea. ‘That could not be. I have an affliction beyond the help of physick; even my good friend Graham has no cure for it. No sooner am I ashore, than I wish to be away again. My home is the ship. My country is the sea.’

He grinned, his teeth white and even against skin tanned from many days sailing. He did not wear a wig; his long dark hair was tied back with a red velvet ribbon. He did not dress like the other ship’s officers. His shoes had silver buckles, lace frothed at his throat. He wore silk beneath his plain sea coat, and his breeches were woven with ribbons.

I should have guessed his destiny. He was half pirate already.

He looked up as canvas cracked above us. ‘The wind is freshening, turning east nor’east. You bring us luck, Miss Kington, damn me, if you don’t! With this behind us, we’ll be there in no time.’ He winked at me. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say you whistled for it.’ He bowed. ‘Now I regret I must leave you in the company of this ugly fellow,’ he nodded towards Graham. ‘There is work to do!’

He went off, barking orders that sent sailors scampering up the ropes and the helmsman spinning the wheel.

‘Don’t mind Broom.’ Graham smiled, watching his friend with affection. ‘He is an excellent fellow, despite his teasing ways. The men would go to hell and back for him. There’s no better sailor either side of the Atlantic, you have my word upon that. Now you must excuse me. I hope you will join us later in the great cabin. I’ll make sure that Cook prepares something palatable for dinner, and I’m certain that Broom will want you to sample his punch.’

They left me to wander the deck and I had reason to thank both of them, for their words began to heal me of my melancholy. I leaned at the bow, watching the prow cut through the waves, folding lacy white foam on to the shining deep blue water, and I saw the beauty there. A hint of Broom’s sentiment touched me like the breath of the wind on my cheek. The heat of the sun seemed to melt the coldness that had grown around my heart and my drooping spirits lifted with the steady warm wind blowing over me.

That evening I joined the company in the grand cabin. The other passengers were merchants, or planters like my brother. They seemed jolly enough fellows and the captain and his officers were charming and gallant, declaring themselves glad to have me there, for a female presence among them would stop their growing rough and grim. After supper, we were entertained by a pair of fiddlers and a boy on the penny whistle. Sailors danced for us, as nimble-footed and agile as any who played the theatres at home. Only my brother seemed unamused. He sat apart, drinking brandy, his face set and sullen, muttering that the other passengers were low, common, rooking fellows who cheated at cards, and cursing the crew equally as surly dogs who refused to do his bidding.

I spent most days on deck after that, often in the company of First Mate Broom. He told me to look sharp about, for we were approaching the latitudes where pirates lurked in the sea lanes, waiting for fat merchant ships such as ourselves.

‘What would happen if they found us?’ I asked, more curious than fearful.

‘If a black hoist were to be sighted, we would strike our flag. They would board us and take whatever they wanted.’

‘We would not fight back?’ I was a little surprised at that.

‘And risk being put to the slaughter? Not likely!’

‘What would happen? Once we were boarded?’

‘Most of the crew would join them, given half the chance. Not the captain, of course.’ He said nothing about himself or Graham. ‘The captain is a fair man, so he would probably be spared, put in an open boat, the passengers along with him.’ He laughed, although I did not think pirates any laughing matter. ‘Your brother might not fare so well. He treats the men like servants and no sailor likes that. Captain’s the only one allowed to order them about. That’s until they go on the account, then the captain is not much different from the men.’

‘On the account?’

‘That’s what we call pirating. They ain’t
all
bad fellows. They call themselves gentlemen of fortune, and some are exactly that.’

‘I am the only woman on board. What about me?’

He patted the hilt of his sword. ‘I would skewer any man who came near you until they were heaped up in piles.’

‘Give me a blade,’ I said, joining in his banter, ‘and I’ll do that for myself.’