Admiral (5 page)

In the meantime I assure you that all is well with the estates at Godmersham, Saltwood and Ilex, and that the family gold and silver plate has been recovered from the hiding place where your late father and I put it, and is in safe custody. Your brother will be writing to you as soon as he returns to England.

The letter was signed by Henry Grey, who must by now be seventy years old, and who had begun serving the Yorke family when he was about eight years old.

Ned suddenly realized that there was complete silence in the cabin, apart from the lapping of the waves against the hull, and a white-faced and distraught-looking Aurelia was waiting for him to say something. Diana too seemed close to tears, sensing that his concentration on the letter meant that it was both important and probably bad news. Thomas was running his fingers through his beard in the nearest approach to agitation that Ned had seen.

“I’m sorry, but this is rather a shock. My father – he’s been killed in a hunting accident in Spain – the King’s sympathy – the steward is writing…”

Thomas was the first to react. “So your brother George is the new Earl. Diana and I can only extend our sympathies at your loss. Do you get the estates back? Your father didn’t compound, did he?”

“We get the estates back, so the steward says.”

A moment later Aurelia was holding him, sobbing. He held her tight and then, when she had stopped, whispered: “Don’t grieve; he was my father but we were not really close. We went our own ways. That was why I came out to Barbados.”

Ned folded the letter and put it in a drawer. The steward’s lists could be read later. “I’d better assemble the ship’s company and tell them about the King’s restoration.”

Thomas stood up, looking embarrassed. “Ned…” he paused a few moments, “…you remember the Brethren of the Coast, and their new leader?”

Ned nodded: “That’s all forgotten now, I suppose?”

“Why should it be?” Thomas seemed startled.

“Well, I assume Sir Thomas Whetstone and the Lady Diana Gilbert-Manners will now return to England and resume a life of remarkable respectability?”

“No!” Diana said violently. “At least, I shan’t. Thomas might, but I doubt it. Tell us, Thomas, you’re not getting too old for buccaneering?”

“Not while the Dons say ‘No peace beyond the Line’!” Ned laughed and looked at Aurelia. “I think the Yorkes, after their wedding, might have to return to Barbados to put their affairs in order, and by that time perhaps the forts and batteries will be built here, and those guns mounted.”

Just before noon next day Lobb reported to Ned that the
Peleus
’ boat was bringing over Sir Thomas Whetstone “and his lady”. There was no doubt about how the Griffins viewed the Restoration: they had asked for a boat and, with the exception of the Bullocks, the couple who had left Barbados with Aurelia and acted as her servants, had all gone over to the
Phoenix
. There they celebrated the final overthrow of their real enemy, Cromwell, with Saxby and the rest of the men and women who had fled from the Kingsnorth estate.

Ned had sent for Saxby to give him the news, and the foreman from the Kingsnorth plantation (and now master of the first prize captured by Ned and his men) had at first just grinned happily, without saying anything, as though he had not understood Ned’s words.

Then he said: “Means we could all go back to Kingsnorth and start planting again. Except –” he broke off, doubtful.

“Except what?” Ned prompted.

“Except that I don’t reckon many of them will want to.”

At that moment Ned realized that he had been so excited by the news of the Restoration that he had not really considered how it affected him. Affected not just him, but every man and woman now on board the
Griffin
and the
Phoenix
– and affected the future of Kingsnorth. There was plenty of excitement – at the Restoration, at his forthcoming marriage to Aurelia, at the fact that neither he nor Thomas needed to use false names any longer.

Now Saxby, the stolid and reliable Lincolnshire man who long ago deserted from the Royal Navy and proved himself a very competent plantation manager, was doing the thinking for him.

“Except” – that was the key. Except that the men and women on board the two ships might not think the same way as Mr Yorke.

“No,” Saxby said quietly, “I can’t see ’em wanting to go back to plantation life. You see, sir, they came out here in the first place because of Cromwell: transported because he’d captured them in battle – the Irish after Drogheda and Wexford, the Scots after Dunbar – or was emptying the jails. Some just decided they couldn’t go on living in the funeral atmosphere the Puritans spread everywhere. Not everyone reckons it’s a crime to laugh; not everyone measures a man’s honesty and generosity by the length of his face and the frequency of his prayers and psalm singing. So thanks to Cromwell, we all go out to the West Indies; thanks to Cromwell we all then had to make a bolt for it from Barbados to escape from those Roundheads.”

Saxby, now launched into one of the longest speeches Ned had ever heard him make – six or a dozen words were his normal limit – took a deep breath.

“The fact is, sir, we like this life. I know most of the men and women are indentured to you, sir, and they’ve got more time to serve, but I reckon if you gave us the choice of continuing to go privateering with you or going back to Kingsnorth with you, we’d all choose privateering.”

“You’ve talked this over with them?”

“In a manner o’ speaking, sir: after we heard Cromwell was dead, most of us agreed we really owed our new life at sea to him, an’ preferred it to plantin’.”

“What did Mrs Judd think?”

“She likes privateering, sir. Says the excitement – well…” Saxby’s normally red face reddened with embarrassment “…gives her more zest for things.”

The dark rings under Saxby’s eyes told the rest of the story, and he had returned to the
Phoenix
leaving Ned with questions but no answers. He realized he had not really thought about what would happen to Kingsnorth – presumably the weeds had already spread across the land, and no doubt the termites were busy eating the woodwork of the house. Planting or privateering? He had, without much thought, assumed that Saxby and the men would want to go back to Kingsnorth. But what about Aurelia and, for that matter, Thomas and Diana? All he knew was the brief reference they had made yesterday, but had Thomas really thought about his own people in the
Peleus
? If they could return to England –the Restoration presumably cancelled all the transportations ordered by the Commonwealth – surely most of them would? Diana alone had said that she had no wish to return to England: out here she was completely free: one week in battle, the next returning from it in the
Peleus
, the third looking for more excitement. No, a woman with such a zest for life and action was not likely to return to an English drawing-room life where watching the men play backgammon, surely the dullest of games, would be the highlight of a week, and deciding the day’s menus and drawing up a guest list for next Thursday, the usual run of events. Diana, who had sailed the
Peleus
into Santiago while he and Thomas attacked it overland… She would have little to talk about with the vapid wives of Royalists, even though for a few months they would be telling stories of living as refugees in France. No, come to think of it, the King has been back on the throne for several weeks, and by the time anyone reached England from the West Indies, the refugees’ stories would be forgotten… Further discussion about the future had been stopped yesterday by the determined way that they celebrated the Restoration: at one point, mug in one hand and linstock in the other, the four of them fired the
Griffin
’s guns in a salute, loaded them all again, and fired a second. The
Peleus
and
Phoenix
had followed suit and then the
Convertine
had fired more salutes with the four privateers (after they had sent over to the
Griffin
to find out what was happening) firing their great guns sporadically through most of the night, glad of something to celebrate and beating drums and singing wild songs in several languages. Now, it was very much the morning after, with only Aurelia looking fresh because she rarely drank anything intoxicating, and his own head throbbing because he normally drank little but had made an exception for the Restoration. Lobb, too, kept his voice low when he reported the
Peleus
’ boat, as though fearing that loud noises would split his head open.

Diana came through the entry-port like the sun suddenly rising but Thomas was walking with care, as if knowing that jarring his heels would make his head ring like a chime of cathedral bells. Diana again wore one of her divided skirts, a white dress the skirt of which had been cut up the length of her legs and resewn into two tubes, like men’s trousers. The top of her dress was cut low and the shoulders were bare, keeping her cool and revealing and increasing the sun tan. She kissed Aurelia and grimaced at Ned. “Sir is a trifle brittle this morning. He growls like a bear but if anyone stamps their feet he will fall to pieces.”

“She has a Puritanical streak,” Thomas muttered, his eyes red-rimmed and his beard uncombed. “Or perhaps she’s become a Jesuit, all piety and reforming zeal.”

Ned looked at the generous body, the half exposed and heavily tanned bosoms, the warm and full-lipped mouth, and the laughing eyes. “Yes, you’re probably right. But what else put you into such an ill humour?”

“I confess to you, Ned and Aurelia, that I drank far too much yesterday, during the night and well into today, and now I am paying the price. But I did not expect to face a deputation from the privateers as soon as I dared open an eye this morning.”

“A deputation?”

“Yes. All but pounding on my door, they were.”

“But they were drinking most of the night, too!”

“They’re used to it,” Thomas said, not attempting to conceal the awe in his voice. “They drink raw rumbullion as you and I might take the juice of a lime.”

“What did they come to see you about?”

“Several things. You, the Restoration, the election of a new leader of the buccaneers, the future of this place - Cagway, or whatever it’s called – and a raid.”

“Let’s go below,” Aurelia said. “The sun is scorching. The deck is so hot it makes my feet swell.”

“Feet!” Thomas grumbled. “It’s boiling my brains!”

Down in the
Griffin
’s cabin, Aurelia looked questioningly at Diana.

“Shall I offer Thomas a drink?”

“No,” Diana said firmly. “We celebrated the King’s restoration yesterday; today we must concentrate on restoring Thomas.”

Thomas laughed and then winced. “If only one was rewarded for celebrating the Restoration, I’d get a peerage.”

“Your name should have been Touchstone, or Drystone; anything but ‘Whet’,” Diana said.

“No, the lady has made up my mind,” Thomas said. “Anyway, we have a lot to decide before Ned and I go to see the privateersmen.”

Ned looked puzzled. “They’re not grumbling about their share of the Santiago purchase, are they?”

“On the contrary! Their only complaint is that here there aren’t enough taverns and wenches to spend it!”

“What is –”

“Ned, I have a list of questions more or less committed to memory. In my present state you could easily jolt them into the wrong order, so listen carefully. Now, I’m here as a representative of the privateers: they came to me simply because they’ve known me for some years.”

“And trust you,” Diana added.

“I suppose they do,” Thomas said, “though I don’t always trust them. Anyway, their first question, Ned, is whether or not you’re going to continue buccaneering now that the King is back.”

Ned looked at Aurelia, puzzled by the question. She shrugged her shoulders, as if indicating she could not account for the doubt either, and he said: “Of course, providing we stay at war with Spain, so that we’re privateers, not pirates. But what about you? Have you made up your mind whether or not you are going back to England?”

Diana gave a disdainful wave, as if to indicate that Thomas’ answer was of no consequence. “He only talks of going back when he’s in his cups. He can’t afford London; neither can London afford him.”

Thomas grunted. “I was thinking of living on your money, m’dear.”

“I know,” Diana retorted, “but we shall continue living out here, with the king of Spain paying our expenses.”

Aurelia coughed and the three of them looked at her. “That answers your first question, Thomas. What is the second?”

“Ah yes. Barbados. They want to know if it is necessary for you to go to Barbados at once. They say you’d be away for at least six months, if you were planning to start up Kingsnorth again, quite apart from doing up the plantation Aurelia inherited on her husband’s death.”

Ned shook his head. “I don’t understand the question. Or, rather, I don’t see how it affects the privateersmen.”

Aurelia said promptly: “
Mon chéri
, if you are away in Barbados putting two plantations in order, you can’t be here privateering!”

Thomas nodded and again winced as the movement made his headache worse. “That’s about it, Ned; they say they can send an island sloop to Barbados with a letter, but they’d rather not lose you and the
Griffin
for so long.”

“Six months is not very long.”

“It’s also very optimistic,” Thomas said. “More likely to be a year.”

“That’s true,” Aurelia said, and turned to Ned. “Remember,
chéri
, that Barbados has only just heard of the Restoration. It will take months to get the island running properly again. My late husband –” she refused to mention his name “–died intestate, so the lawyers will squabble about the probate. We may not be allowed to start work on either plantation until the legal papers are cleared up. It will probably have to be referred to London. That alone could take a year, probably two…”

“What do you suggest, then? They’re your plantations at the moment.”