Tide of War (31 page)

But there was a great deal of work to be done before she was a ship again.

“I am glad to have been of service.” Carondelet bowed when Nathan came to thank him. “It is a small return of the debt I owe you. And did I not say my Africans were equal to the task?”

“We could not have done it without them, your Excellency.” He hesitated a moment. “I do not suppose they are for sale?”

Carondelet looked at him sharply as if he was making game of him.

“I mean no offence, your Excellency,” Nathan assured him, “but as you will have observed we are desperately undermanned and I thought to ease the situation. But I should not have been so presumptuous.”

“Not at all, Captain. Why should I be offended? Any more than if you expressed a desire to purchase one of my horses? No, I am only surprised that you should countenance the use of slaves aboard a ship of His Britannic Majesty's Navy.”

“It is unusual, I agree, but I do not believe it is expressly forbidden in the regulations. In dire need, we sometimes resort to pressing freeborn Englishmen into the service.”

The Governor smiled. “And even Americans I have heard.”

This was true.

“Well, the only offence is in proposing to pay for them when I am still in your debt. You must permit me to make you a gift. How many would you like?”

Nathan protested that he could not possibly prevail upon His Excellency's generosity in such a matter. The debt had been paid in full. “You have your fort, I have my ship,” he insisted.

The governor gave in with a surprising alacrity. It soon became clear why.

“They are valued at 400 Spanish dollars per man,” Nathan was informed by Mr. McIvor, who had been given the task of negotiating the price with one of the Governor's underlings. “That is in silver dollars, or pieces of eight, as we call them in England.”

“How much is that in English money?” Nathan enquired with a worried frown. He had a notion it was rather a lot.

“ Well, the rate of exchange varies considerably but we have agreed four shillings and sixpence to the dollar which makes”—the purser glanced into his notebook—”Ninety pounds per man.”

“Good grief! For a slave?”

“That is the current price in the slave market at the Havana. It is a little more he tells me in New Orleans but he is prepared to give us the benefit of the doubt, as it were.”

“I had no idea it was so much.”

“The price is a little higher than it was because of the war but when you consider you are buying the services of a prime field hand for life—the price of a woman or a child would be considerably less, unless, of course, the woman is handsome—it may be considered a bargain. I believe a farmhand in Sussex can cost almost two shillings a day, at least in the summer months. If your slave lives for two years you will have broke even, though there is the cost of keeping him of course, but then you can always sell him on, often at a considerable profit.”

“Thank you, Mr. McIvor, I will bear that in mind.”

He was making his own calculations. He had little more than £100 of his own money aboard the
Unicorn
but the Admiralty had provided him with £2,000 in gold sovereigns for the purposes of “intelligence” and whatever emergencies might arise in the course of his more clandestine activities. He entertained serious doubts as to whether the clerks at the Admiralty would countenance spending it on slaves but this was an argument he could have at a later date. If it came to it he would have to recompense them from his prize money—the prize money he had offered to his mother. He felt sure she would understand.

The entire amount at his disposal would buy him thirty men. At best it was but a salve to his conscience.

In the event, McIvor was able to obtain a considerable discount for gold and a further reduction if Nathan agreed to choose the men by lot, so that he did not pick the most powerfully built.

“How does that work?” he demanded with suspicion.

“Well, say we agree to buy thirty. A number of stones are put in an enclosed jar. Thirty of them are marked with a cross. Those that pick them out become yours.”

“I see.” He was become a slave-trader. “Very well. Make it so.”

The final price worked out at £68 a man. Nathan watched them come aboard the
Unicorn
where the crew had already begun the task of fitting a jury rig.

“Am I to put them to work, sir?” enquired Mr. Pym with a grim look. “Or are they to be treated as supercargo?”

“I will speak to them,” said Nathan.

This was the first difficulty.

“Apparently they understand some Spanish,” McIvor told him. “Command words for the most part. For their normal discourse they converse in their native tongue and there is a form of patois, based I believe on the French, but it is impenetrable to most Frenchmen.”

In the event, one of them spoke passable French and Nathan chose him as an interpreter for the others.

“What is your name?” he asked him.

“I am called Jorge, Master.”

“You do not call me ‘master,'” Nathan informed him. “You may call me ‘sir.'” It was to be hoped he appreciated the distinction. This was going to be difficult. “I have bought your freedom, do you understand me? For you and your fellows.” Jorge regarded him without expression. “I have bought you into His Britannic Majesty's Navy. You are now a servant of His Britannic Majesty, King George, of England. George. That is the same name as Jorge.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good. While you are aboard this ship you will be rated as landsmen and paid”—the purser had done his sums for him—”five Spanish reales a day. When we reach Jamaica—which is an island owned by King George about a thousand miles from here—you will be released and I will give each of you what you are owed in wages and a certificate to say that you are now freed men.”

There was understanding now in the man's eyes, but also suspicion. Nathan could not blame him.

“In the meantime, however, as servants of King George—as are we all—you will be expected to do your share of the work aboard ship.”

But what work were they to do? And how in God's name were they to be given their orders, shown where to berth, how to get food from the galley, where to relieve themselves—a thousand things he had not thought of when he had conceived his plan?

He supposed they could do the usual work of a landsman if they were shown the ropes, but every single order would have to be relayed through Jorge—and who was to do it, given that Jorge himself would have to be spoken to in French? Nathan—or even Tully—could not be expected to be on hand for every eventuality.

Then he remembered Tierney—the Channel Islander Tully had found on Coquilles Island. Until they reached Jamaica he could act as Jorge's mentor. He was about to send for him when he became aware of the presence of young Lamb, his hat respectfully doffed.

“If you please, sir.”

“Mr. Lamb?”

“Mr. Pym's compliments, sir, and there is a Spanish gentleman wishing to speak with you.”

Escavar with a summons from the Governor who was about to take his leave and wished to have a private word aboard the
Lion.

Nathan had himself rowed over in the gig which had now been restored to him.

“I must return to New Orleans,” Carondelet informed him, “but before I go I have news that might interest you.”

Nathan braced himself.

“When we broke the siege of Fort San Felipe we took a number of prisoners: Cajun rebels and French regular soldiers landed by the
Virginie”

Nathan declined to mention that Tully had already told him so. He assumed the marines had been landed in the Delta shortly before the
Virginie
headed back to Ship Island—and her encounter with the
Unicorn.

“Among them was your Mr. Imlay.”

Nathan did not have to feign his astonishment. “But how could he have got from Coquilles Island to the mouth of the Mississippi—it is above a hundred miles, across a swamp?”

“I assume he employed the services of one of the Cajuns as a guide. And he could have travelled most of the way by river. However, it does suggest that he was well acquainted with the French intentions
before arriving on these shores—unless he ran into them by accident, as he declares.”

“You have spoken with him?”

“I have indeed. He maintains that he became lost during the engagement on Coquilles Island and was making for the Delta in the hope of finding you again when he was taken prisoner by the French.”

Nathan frowned. “You believe him?”

The Governor gave him a look. “During my time in New Orleans it is possible I have met some of the greatest rogues upon the face of the earth,” he confided. “And in my opinion Mr. Imlay would be perfectly at ease among them.”

“Where is he now?”

“I imagine he is on his way to Hispaniola.”

“Hispaniola?”

“I should say Saint-Domingue where the Revolutionists are spreading liberty, equality and fraternity at the point of the bayonet, as is invariably the case. I sent him there in a Charleston trader, with those French nationals that survived our encounter.”

“And may I ask why, your Excellency?”

Carondelet sighed. “Because I did not know what else to do with them. In the case of the French marines they are prisoners of war. I am bound by certain conventions to either house them in a fitting manner until the end of hostilities, which I am by no means anxious to do, to exchange them for Spanish prisoners of war, or to return them under parole to the territory of France. I am by no means certain who is presently running Saint-Domingue but I am perfectly prepared to concede that it is French territory for the purposes of this transaction. As for Imlay”—another sigh—”he is a citizen of the United States. Indeed I have reason to believe he is an American agent, though they have found it convenient in the past to disown him and doubtless will do so again. But I want no trouble with the Americans. I had rather send him to the French. Of course, had I known at the time of your current situation I would have brought him to you but your officer did not arrive until the day after Mr. Imlay had been sent on his way.”

“ I see.” Nathan supposed he should be grateful. What would he have done—put him in irons? “You say you believe him to be an American agent?”

Carondelet observed him shrewdly. “I imagine you know a great deal more about Mr. Imlay than you are at liberty to reveal,” he declared. “And so you will understand that I am similarly compromised.”

“I am sorry, your Excellency, but you implied he was in the service of the French.”

“Yes. And doubtless he is also in the service of the British from time to time. But it is my belief that his first loyalty is to the United States. Provided, of course, it is in his own interests to do so.” He stood up. “And now I must be on my way.” He glanced through the window of his cabin in the stern of the gunboat to where the
Unicorn
lay in her new berth. “I trust I leave you in reasonable shape.”

It would be a while before they were in anything like reasonable shape but they were already hauling up the new mainmast. Nathan thanked him again.

“I owe you my ship,” he said simply. “It will not be forgotten.”

“Will you take her back to the Havana?” enquired the Governor. “Because if you are I will avail myself of your services as a courier to the Captain-General.”

“I am sorry to disoblige your Excellency but I had determined to make for Port Royal in Jamaica and make my own report to the commander-in-chief.”

“Very well. It is of no consequence. I wish you Godspeed.” He extended his hand. “If you are fast enough you may catch up with Mr. Imlay. In which case you must be sure to give him my regards.”

P
ORT ROYAL, JAMAICA:
the most important British base in the Caribbean—and scarcely a ship of war in sight. In fact the only one Nathan could see from the windows of the Governor's Mansion was French: the privateer
Atalante,
of 8 guns, which had been brought in as a prize after coming off worse in an encounter with the
Antelope
packet in the Windward Passage. If he leaned out of the window he would just be able to see the
Unicorn,
or rather her masts—her
new
masts—above the cluster of merchant shipping moored in and around the North Docks. She would soon be ready for sea and he was aware that his present summons might be to receive some instruction as to her future—and his own. There had been no definite news of the
Virginie
since his encounter with her in Ship Island. It was possible, of course, that she had foundered during the hurricane. It was also possible that the
Antelope
had brought orders for him from Admiral Ford in Port-au-Prince.

Brisk footsteps announced the return of the young subaltern who had left him kicking his heels on the landing. His Excellency was sorry to have kept him waiting, he declared coldly, and was now ready to receive him. The fellow's manner suggested to Nathan that his star was not considered to be in the ascendant by those lesser nebulae that orbited about the august presence of the Lieutenant-Governor.

General Williamson was seated at his desk, framed by a somewhat larger view of the harbour than Nathan had been afforded from the landing. He did not stand when Nathan entered but regarded him wearily. It had been several weeks since their last encounter and Nathan was shocked at the change in him. As acting Governor of Jamaica and commander-in-chief of His Majesty's forces in the region, he had a heavy burden of responsibility and it appeared to have aged him cruelly, unless he was prey to one of those obscure tropical diseases that had wasted many a Governor before him. For the past few months he had been preoccupied with the situation in Saint-Domingue where a rebellion among the African slaves—partly inspired by the Revolutionist in Paris—had caused the French planters to cede the colony to the British in return for their support.