Caribbean (53 page)

So we returned to Bridgetown, me having lost Inés but, as Uncle Will reminded me, with Spanish gold aplenty to heal my wounds, and on that confusing note, here ends this
Log of a Buccaneer
.

N
ED
P
ENNYFEATHER

When Will saw the lassitude into which his nephew had fallen over the loss of Inés, he challenged him: “You commanded a ship, surely you can command your own life,” but Ned insisted: “Inés, I can’t forget her,” and Will said: “You better. She’s in another part of the world,” but Ned continued to mope, keeping to the small room that his uncle had rented in Bridgetown.

To distract his attention, Will suggested a daring excursion—they would visit Sir Isaac. And one morning, having no horses, they walked out to Saltonstall Manor, now even more resplendent with its lane bordered by young trees and hedges of croton. Banging on the door, they attracted several of the slaves working inside and could hear a woman calling: “Tell Pompey men he come,” and promptly a black man in golden-yellow livery with big white cuffs opened the door and asked in a polite voice: “Gem’mum, what your pleasure?”

When Will snapped: “We want to see Sir Isaac,” the slave said: “Well, now …” but Will pushed him aside, strode into the reception area, and bellowed: “Isaac, come out!” and when both Sir Isaac and his lady appeared, Will said, with a bow: “We’ve come back.”

Icily, Clarissa said: “We heard. You’ve been pirating they tell us,” and since neither she nor her husband made any gesture toward welcoming their relatives, Will asked: “Aren’t you going to ask us to stay?” and after a grudging invitation was extended, Pompey was sent to fetch some refreshments.

In the interval, the older Tatums, now approaching their prosperous fifties, stared uneasily at the intruders, seeing in Will a battle-scarred veteran of naval brawling and in Ned a youth just entering
his twenties whose life was surely already ruined from his years as a buccaneer. They were a sorry pair, and Lady Clarissa could feel no regrets at having been responsible for the branding of her brother-in-law: Let the world see him for what he is.

The visit was extremely unpleasant, and even before the first cup of tea was passed, it was painfully obvious that Sir Isaac was already wondering how he could get rid of these unwelcome relatives. Leaning back and speaking as if from a distance, he asked: “And what do you two propose doing on Barbados this time?” and Will replied, as he reached for his tea: “We’ll be looking around. By the way, pass me one of those little cakes?” and Ned thought: He actually wants Uncle Isaac to lose his temper. But the plantation owner refused to rise to the bait. Turning to Ned, he asked, still from a great distance: “Where will you be looking? Several plantations seek overseers, but I suppose you’ll be off adventuring again?”

“With mother gone …”

“She died shortly after you left the last time. Lady Clarissa and I attended to her funeral.”

“Thank you.”

“She left a small fund for you. Mr. Clapton the banker has it in his care, and it’s growing, he tells me. Honorable man, Clapton.”

“I’m glad to hear about the money. I’ve been thinking I ought to make my home in Bridgetown. I’ve seen the oceans.”

This statement, which implied so much, awakened no interest in the older Tatums, for whom the sea was no more than a highway from Barbados to London. The rest of the world’s oceans were superfluous, and Will, sensing that this was the case, said solemnly: “The boy was navigator of a great ship at nineteen, captain at twenty, fighting off the Spaniards.”

“We’ve been warned,” Clarissa said, “that those who fight Spaniards these days are to be hanged. New rules for new times.”

And so the frigid meeting ended, with no invitation to return, no inquiry as to what assistance the master and his lady might extend, and when Sir Isaac told Pompey in haughty syllables: “Direct the groom to saddle three horses and lead these men back to town,” Will said crisply: “No thanks. We’ll walk,” and down the long avenue of trees they trudged.

But when they reached their quarters Will said: “Ned, we’ve got to get serious about your future,” and he suggested that they dip into their
Giralda
prize money, rent two horses, and ride straight eastward
across the island to the wild Atlantic shore where he knew a sailor recluse named Frakes who had an unusual treasure.

It was a journey Ned would never forget, as exciting in its way as trying to negotiate the Magellan, for it carried him through parts of Barbados he had not seen before: lovely hills from whose crests he saw endless fields sweeping eastward; lanes through the heart of great plantations with green sugarcane stalks crowded like trees in a forest; little vales filled with multitudes of flowers; and clusters of brown shacks in which lived the slaves who made the prosperity possible. The ride, under a warm sun that peeped from behind white clouds sweeping from the unseen ocean, was an adventure into the heart of the splendid island, and as each new vista revealed itself he felt increasingly attached to this land. He knew then that he did not wish ever to leave Barbados. The buccaneer had become the settler.

Even at this late hour in their day’s journey, Ned still had no intimation of what the attraction of this old seaman Frakes could be. Now they reached the western edge of the central plateau which comprised most of Barbados and found themselves at the edge of a considerable cliff down whose face a narrow path led to the seashore below, and there surged the great Atlantic, a wild ocean whose waves beat upon a desolate shore completely different from that provided by the gentler Caribbean.

Reining in to savor the grand panorama, Ned cried: “It’s been hiding all these years,” and his uncle replied: “Only the strong ones dared to come over here,” and with his long right arm extended, he pointed to the remarkable feature which differentiated this shore from all others, and Ned saw for the first time that haunting collection of gigantic reddish boulders which at certain spots clustered along the edge of the sea, their feet deep in the water, their jagged faces tilted to catch the sun. At some locations they stood four or five together, like huge judges trying to reach a verdict, at others a lone giant defied the ocean, but at a spot that caught Will’s eye, a parade of nearly a dozen left the shore and marched out to sea, forming a peril to navigation attested to by the wrecked timbers of a cargo vessel that had strayed too close.

“Where did they come from?” Ned asked, and Will explained: “Either God dropped them accidentally when He was building the earth, or giants used them to play marbles.”

Inland, from where the procession started, stood a small, rudely built house whose lone doorway revealed how enormously thick were
the stone walls into which it had been set. “Frakes?” Ned asked, and his uncle nodded, whereupon the travelers descended to the plain below. On their arrival at the stone cottage with heavy moss growing across the roof, Ned still had no inkling of why the journey had been made. When Tom Frakes came to the door, Ned saw a tall lanky man with a wild head of hair and a scraggly beard which looked as if he trimmed it with dull scissors, but only occasionally. He wore tattered trousers and shirt, the former held about his nonexistent waist by a rope whose ends were frayed. His face was as timeworn as his clothes, for he had few teeth, a badly broken nose and eyes that watered sadly. He appeared to be in his late sixties, but that might have been deceptive, for he had lived a hard life which was now approaching its battered end.

Recognizing Will as a former shipmate, he left the doorway to clasp him about the shoulders: “Dear Will, come in, come in!” But then he stopped, stared at Ned, and asked: “Who’s the lad?” and when Will replied: “My nephew,” the old man shouted: “Twice welcome!” and into the cottage they went.

Ned expected the interior to resemble its owner, an unholy mess. Instead, it was a revelation—neat, with furniture, some of it elegant, properly disposed against walls that were decorated with fine paintings expensively framed. The floor was covered by two rugs, probably from Persia or some similar country, and the three chests which stood in corners were finished with heavy brass trimmings.

“This is a treasure trove!” Ned cried admiringly, and Will explained: “Frakes salvages wrecks that pile up on his rocks out there,” and the ships that went astray must have been preciously laden, for the old sailor owned some items of great value.

And then from the small inner room came his greatest possession, his daughter Nancy, a lovely girl of sixteen, dark, lithe and unusually beautiful. In that first moment, within seconds, really, it was clear to everyone that Will Tatum had brought his nephew Ned on this long trip in hopes that he would find this child of the storms attractive and perhaps want to marry her. Old Frakes, his time running out, was delighted, and Nancy was breathing deeply, for she had begun to wonder if she was ever going to meet a young man. Ned was spellbound.

The visit lasted three wonderful days, during which Frakes led explorations of storm-beaten wrecks while Ned and Nancy trailed behind, kicking at rocks and speculating as to how those gigantic
boulders had found their way to the shore. Later, when the visitors were alone, Will confided: “Government suspects that on stormy nights he keeps a bright light showing on his cottage to confuse captains into thinking it’s a lighthouse. Next morning he combs the wreck,” and that afternoon Frakes, in what was obviously an encouragement to Ned, showed his guests a storeroom attached to the back of the cottage in which he had amassed a treasure in baled carpets, fine furniture, silver settings and an endless number of practical tools and small machines, all salvaged from ships which had crashed onto the rocks at his doorstep.

“A young couple could do wonders with these things,” Frakes said, and when Will asked “What?” the old sailor said: “Depends on the couple.”

Next day Will suggested that the young people have a picnic by themselves, and when Nancy led the way to a height from which they could watch the surging Atlantic thunder upon the boulders, Ned asked: “How did your father get here?” and she explained that he had gone buccaneering with Will Tatum, had heard from him about Barbados, and had come here at the end of their cruise to inspect: “When he returned to England he asked Mother and me one foggy November day: ‘Who’s for Barbados and the sun?’ and he didn’t have to ask twice.”

“Was it your mother who taught you to be a lady?” and she replied, eyes lowered: “Yes, that was always Mother’s dream,” and Ned, bursting with sentiment, blurted out: “She taught you well.”

On their last day Will said abruptly: “Time we got down to business,” and as the four sat on grassy mounds among the boulders he broached the subject that had preoccupied everyone: “Frakes, you’re an old man. You have a splendid daughter who ought to be getting married. I’m not so young anymore, and I have a nephew here who also ought to be finding himself a mate. What do you young people say?”

For some moments everyone looked out to sea where the Atlantic was delivering great waves, and then Nancy quietly slipped her hand into Ned’s, felt the warm pressure of his response, and exclaimed: “What a wonderful day!” Then she further surprised Ned by giving him an ardent kiss.

That night as they sat at supper, she said: “When Father was away at sea, Mum worked as a barmaid and …” Ned broke in: “But she always wanted to be a lady?” and Nancy replied, laughing: “Her? She
wouldn’t have known a lady if she saw one, but she did try to teach me: ‘If you want to catch a proper young man, act like a lady, however that would be.’ She loved it here, and it was she who insisted on neatness, everything in its place. She was a good one.”

Once the marriage was agreed upon, Nancy took charge, and in doing so, displayed that wild joyousness that many would comment upon in the years ahead: “We have a wealth of stuff here, if we can only figure out what to do with it,” and sometimes she would suddenly stop her planning, run to her father, and kiss him: “Oh, I do love you so much, Father, and you mustn’t leave us, ever.” And then she would pout: “But I do so want to live in Bridgetown with its shops and ships,” and she asked Uncle Will, as she had been asked to call him: “But what could we do in Bridgetown to earn a living?”

Will and Ned decided to remain an extra day to explore the possibilities, and they sat among the boulders as one idea after another was proposed and rejected, until finally Will said: “Wherever I’ve gone—Port Royal, Tortuga, Lisbon—I’ve noticed that men need inns and taverns. Places to talk, to learn what ships are sailing where, to drink with old friends and remember battles. Bridgetown’s growing. It could use another inn. A proper one.”

When this was agreed upon, with Nancy lilting about as if she were already mistress of the place and teasing the customers, Frakes said: “Capital idea for you youngsters. You can have everything in the cottage, and the storeroom. Make it a handsome inn, a lively one, but I, I’ll stay here by the sea.”

This decision dampened the discussion, but then Will said: “He’s right. Might as well spend it where he’s happy,” but Nancy argued: “You know, there’s a sea at Bridgetown, too,” and he replied: “I mean the real sea.”

Talk then turned to what name the proposed inn should have, and Will warned: “The right name means everything. Men grow to cherish it,” and he suggested copies of the type so popular in England: “Cavalier & Roundhead, or maybe Pig & Thistle.” Nancy offered The Carib or perhaps Rest & Riot, but Ned volunteered nothing until the others had exhausted their wits. Then he said quietly: “It’ll be The Giralda Inn,” and when each of the others protested, he explained: “That’s why I’m here today. It’s the ship I helped capture, the one I captained, the one that brought us safely home,” and Will thought: And the one in which you discovered love with Inés, and it’s proper that a man should honor such a ship.

When the time came for Will and Ned to leave, Frakes surprised them by announcing: “Nancy and I’ll be comin’ with you. Sooner married, sooner bedded,” and he suggested that Will and Ned scour the eastern shore to find carters who would carry the treasures of his cottage into Bridgetown for the furnishing of the inn, and the others were astonished when he told the draymen: “Clean out everything,” and when the place was bare, Nancy asked: “Now what will you live with?” and he said: “I’ll make do.” He must have been receiving signals, for two days after he attended the wedding in Bridgetown and saw to the installation of his furniture and paintings in the building Ned had purchased with the money left him by his mother, he died, but not before issuing orders to a woodcarver for a rather large sign which would proclaim The Giralda Inn.