Seaflower (22 page)

Laughton
gave way at the door, and then, as Renzi quickly closed it behind him, his eyes
widened. 'Nicholas!' he gasped.

Renzi
looked up. His younger brother had not changed overmuch in the years since he
had last seen him, a broadening of the shoulders, an unfashionable sun-darkened
complexion, the confidence.

'We
- we thought you had
..
.' Laughton
spluttered.

'Richard,
be so good as to walk with me a space,' Renzi said, hastening along the wide
veranda to the steps that led to the gardens at the back of the building.

'Nicholas,
are you in distress of money?' Laughton asked, when they were out of possible
earshot on the grass.

'Dear
brother, no, I am not.' It were better the whole story be told rather than
allow wild surmise. 'If we could talk at length, without interruption - but you
perceive, at the moment
...'

Laughton
glanced quickly at Renzi and gripped his arm. 'In Spanish Town I have a certain
...
weight. You shall have your talk.
Come!'

They
returned to Jacobs. Laughton strode forward. 'Sir, I find this, er, Renzi has a
certain felicity in explaining the naval situation to me. I beg leave to claim
his services for a few days to assist me to formulate a position. Is this
possible, sir?'

Jacobs
seemed taken aback: a new clerk of such accomplishment that both the Admiral
and the influential Richard Laughton were laying claim to his services,
clearly indicated that it might be in his best interests
..
.
'By
all means, sir,' he stuttered.

Laughton
gave a polite inclination of his head and gestured to Renzi. 'This way, sir, if
you please.'

The
gig ground on over the bright sandy road with Laughton himself at the reins,
past endless bright-green cane-fields and black people on foot. Windmills and
tropical dun-coloured buildings were the only disruptions to the monochrome
green.

'For
the nonce, dear brother, I would ask that you do not claim me as kin — I will
explain in due course,' Renzi said, a little too lightly.

Richard
glanced at him and nodded. 'If that is your wish, Nicholas,' he said neutrally,
bringing the gig dextrously to the side of the road. They sat patiently as an
ox train heavily laden with barrels of crude sugar for the coast approached in
a dusty cloud, the yells and shrill whistles of the wagoners piercing the
thunder of many wheels as they ground past. The overseer raised his whip
respectfully in salute to Laughton; the handle was like a fishing rod and the
rawhide tail all of seventy feet long.

They
resumed their journey, turning up a neat road lined with what looked like
gigantic pineapples, blue, red and white convolvulus blooms entwined among
them. 'Penguin hedge,' Laughton said, and when the road straightened to a line
leading to a sprawling stately homestead, he added, 'and this is the Great
House.'

They
approached between immaculate lawns, and Renzi saw the scale of the place,
grand and dignified. A bare-legged ostler took the reins as they descended from
the gig. Stone steps and an iron balustrade led to a broad veranda and the
front doors.

'Do
ye wait for me a short time, Nicholas, and I shall show you the estate,'
Laughton said, taking the steps two at a time. He pointed to a cane easy-chair
as he strode inside, which Renzi politely accepted. Shortly afterwards Laughton
emerged, now in a blue, square-cut coatee and hessian boots, and wearing a
broad-brimmed straw hat. They mounted the gig again and ground off.

'Over
nine hundred acres, an' four hundred to work it, quite sizeable - all sugar,'
Laughton opened, with just a hint of pride. They passed a gang of field-workers
trudging out to the cane-pieces: men, women, children. At Renzi's look he
added, 'Each has his task, even the piccaninny — follows on behind and weeds
the fields. Teaches 'em responsibility.'

Reaching
a cluster of out-houses, Renzi heard a loud rumble and creaking. Around the
corner he saw the open, straw-covered busyness of a sugar mill. The rotating
rollers were fed with cane stalks in a crashing, splintering chorus; the mill
workers did not raise their eyes from feeding the cane into the maw of the
rollers. A large axe with a glinting blade was hung on the mill frame. Laughton
observed drily, 'Better a limb severed than being dragged into
...'

It
was a complex operation, a sugar estate, and Renzi's concentration wilted under
a barrage of details: slaves gained skills ranging from fieldworker to
muleteer, sawyer, driver, and varied in origin from 'salt-water slave' from
Africa to infant born on the estate.

The
heat of the afternoon suggested they should return to the Great House, and they
sank thankfully into the cane chairs on the veranda. Laughton heaved up his
boots to rest them on the rail, and clapped his hands. 'Sangaree,' he ordered
of the white-coated houseman.

The
breeze of the trade-winds was deliriously cool and Renzi relaxed. 'You have done
well for yourself, dear Richard,' he said, looking at the rolling lands
reaching to the horizon.

'Thank
you, Nicholas. It was Father gave me my step, as you know,' Laughton replied.
He accepted his glass of sangaree, and glanced carefully at Renzi before he
sipped the rosy liquid in wary silence. "The letter from home was scarce
in details, brother,' he began softly. 'Said you had — disappeared after an
argument with Papa.'

That
was paraphrasing truth indeed: the bull-headed obstinacy of Renzi's father to
acknowledge any culpability in the ruination of ten families and the anguished
suicide of the young hope of one was a direct contribution to his decision to
take upon himself the moral obloquy of his family's act. 'Indeed so - but in
truth, this is only the outworking of a decision I made
..
.' He found it easier than he had feared: Richard was from the
same mould as himself, strong-minded, obedient to logic, and sympathetic to
firm resolve based on moral principles.

Renzi
finally ended: it had been said.

His
brother did not respond at first. Then he stood up, looking away, out over the
estate. He turned, fixed Renzi with an intense look, and smiled. 'You were
always one to show the rest of the world its duty,' he held out both hands,
'and I honour you for it'

Another
glass of sangaree was necessary before conversation could resume.

Laughton's
warm smile returned. 'Your name, if you will forgive the impertinence?'

‘Renzi?
Why, nothing but an impenetrably obscure Italian of another age. He was
unfashionable enough to value riches of the mind above that of the world, and I
...
have grown used to it' He reached
for the jug of sangaree and splashed more into his glass.

'My
dear fellow! But you have been a sailor on the bounding main all this time! You
must have a tale to tell - or should that be a yam?'

'It
has been a life of some, er, variety,' agreed Renzi.

'But
the conditions! You were a common sailor and—'

'And
still am, brother.'

A
slight frown settled on Laughton's brow. 'Just so. Then how could you bear the
incarceration and daily hazard? Pray tell - I'm interested.'

Renzi
smiled at Laughton's attempt to relate to his endurance. 'I bring to your
recollection, brother, that this is the serving of a period of exile, and
tolerability is not at question.' He paused, then stretched in his chair.
'However, I may tell you I have had adventures ashore and afloat around the
world that will keep me warm in memories for ever. But, you will ask, what of
the company, the common seaman, the brute beast of the field?'

Renzi
faced his brother. 'And I will answer truthfully that those who have not
experienced the especial fellowship of the sea, the profound and never
articulated feeling of man for his fellow, out there on the yardarm, at the
cannon's mouth, deep in the ocean's realm, they cannot know mankind in all its
imperfection yet heroism.' He gazed into the distance. 'There is time at sea to
ease the mind, to contemplate infinite truths and consider in their intimate
detail philosophies and axioms to complete satisfaction.'

'You
do not weary of the quality of your company?'

'At
times I — but I keep myself impervious, there are ways to remain apart,' Renzi
said slowly, 'and I have a particular friend
..
.' He tailed off, for with a rush came a vision of Kydd's face - strong and
uncomplicated — which held both intelligence and humour. He continued
huskily,'.
..
but I regret he has met
with - he is probably dead,' he finished suddenly.

'I
do sincerely mourn with you,' said Laughton softly. He busied himself with his
glass and said, 'It would be an honour, brother, if you could sit at table with
us tonight. We generally meet on this night, not in the formal way you
understand, but to talk together, perhaps a cigar or pipe while we settle the
business of the world.' His eyes flicked over Renzi's odd clerkly garb. 'And
there is probably a stitch somewhere I could give you, should you feel the need
to appear, er, inconspicuous,' he said lightly.

*     
*      *

The
cool night airs, which breezed freely through the double doors and on through
the large airy rooms of the house, were agreeable to the guests as they sat
down in the richly polished dining room.

'Gilbert,
might I present Mr Renzi, an acquaintance of mine from England? Nicholas, this
is Gilbert Marston. He is owner of the estate that borders mine to the west.'

Renzi
inclined his head civilly at the stout gentle-man to his left, noting the
shrewd intelligence in his eyes.

'Y'r
duty,' the man said gruffly. 'In coffee, are ye?'

'No,
sir, alas, I am here to visit only,' Renzi said, leaning back to allow a vast
dish to be placed on the table. 'I have my interests, er, in the country —
England, that is.'

'Ah.'
Marston sniffed at the dish, strips of dried dark meat. 'Jerked hog. Y' got to
hand it to the blackies, they c'n conjure a riot o' tastes.' Another vast
tureen arrived. When the silver cover was removed it proved to be a mound of
small, delicate fish. Yet another came: this was uncovered to loud acclamation.
'See here, Renzi,' said Marston, eyes agleam, 'this is y'r Jamaica dish royal -
black crab pepperpot.'

The
conversation swelled happily. Renzi noticed his brother gazing at him down the
table, thoughtful and concerned. His expression brightened when their eyes met
and he called, 'You will require a quantity of wine with that pepperpot, m'
friend. Allow me to prove we are not without the graces here in the Caribbean.'

He
nodded to a houseman, who in turn beckoned in a servant who pushed before him a
neat cart. To his surprise Renzi saw that it seemed to be some sort of
windmill, which the servant rotated carefully to catch the night zephyrs. 'A
breeze-mill,' Marston confided. 'Damn useful.' Renzi saw that the mill drove a
pump that kept up a continual circulation of water over bottles of wine in
cotton bags, ranged together in a perforated tin trough. 'Saltpetre an' water -
uncommon effective.' It was indeed: to taste chilled white wine in the tropical
heat was nothing short of miraculous.

Renzi
caught a speculative look on the face of an officer in red regimentals. 'Have I
seen you, sir?' the man said slowly. 'In Spanish Town, was it not?'

Laughton
put down his glass. 'That would be unlikely, sir. Renzi is heir to a
particularly large estate in England. I rather fancy he would hardly have
occasion to call upon the army.'

The
officer bowed, but continued to look at Renzi, sipping his wine thoughtfully.

'I
see Cuthbert has been broke,' Marston said to the table at large. 'All he had
was ridin' in the
Catherine
brig,
an' she was taken off Ocho Rios — less'n a day out.'

A
murmur of indignation went up. 'For shame! What is the navy about that it
cannot keep our trade safe, not even a piddling little brig?'

Marston
bunched his fists. "There'll be many more ruined afore they stirs
'emselves,' he growled. 'Too interested in the Frenchie islands in the
Antilles, all their force drawn off b' that.'

Laughton
frowned. 'Went to see the Admiral's office in Spanish Town the other day for
some sort of satisfaction in the matter — but was fobbed off with some damn
lickspittle clerk.'

The
conversations subsided as the table digested his words. An olive-complexioned
man with curiously neat manners spoke into the quiet: 'In chambers they are
saying that within the month insurance premiums will be out of reach of all but
the grand estates
...'