Galleon (25 page)

“What did I miss? Anyway, I was just looking at the island.”

“There are a couple of sail over there.”

“Spanish? Anything for us to worry about?”

Thomas grinned and shook his head. “Just two small local sloops, fishing from the look of it. They’ll have a tale to tell when they get in, how they saw three enormous sail heading north…”

“But people will see us from the island, won’t they?”

“Perhaps not. The capital is on the other side, and if it’s like most of the other islands, the plantations will be that side too, where the rain falls.”

Diana took the perspective glass back and examined the slopes of Nevis again. Much of it was covered with bushes, the occasional tamarind standing out, its dark-green mushroom shape growing from a circle of shadow. She felt the hot sun penetrating the cloth of her blouse, and the deck planking was scorching under her bare feet. She thought then of the flies and the mosquitoes and the sandflies, the thirst that seemed ever-present on a tropical island, and the narrow interests of planters who went for weeks without seeing a new face on their plantations. And the rumbullion and mobby…most men in the Tropics drank too much, to help pass away the time, as though the drinker was hurrying to reach the end of his life. And mobby, made from fermenting potatoes, had to be drunk the day it was made, an easy excuse for taking a few extra mugs.

“I’d hate to be a planter’s wife,” she said unexpectedly, startling Thomas.

“I’d hate to be a planter,” Thomas said, “but what provoked that announcement? Not afraid I’m going to buy a plantation, are you?”

“There are a couple of plantations on this side of Nevis – I can just see the dark green of the sugar-cane with the glass. I was thinking of the life the planters must lead, and–”

“You are suddenly frightened that once we have the house built in Jamaica, I’ll turn into a planter, eh?”

“Not so much that,” Diana said frankly, “but that you’d take to hot waters, just to pass the time.”

Thomas looked her up and down. “Men take to hot waters to pass the time when they haven’t anything else to do. Not many wives come out here, you know. Most of the women have been transported – whores, beggars and those sort. None the worse for that,” Thomas added, “and once here they often turn out to be real princesses, if they meet the right men.”

Diana laughed and looked coquettish. “Oh lah, sir, coming out here was the making of me! Before that I was just Lily, the cheapest whore in Cheapside, but out here I met a real gentlemen what set me up with rich clothes–” she tugged at her worn blouse, “–and real leather shoes–” she lifted a bare foot, “–and now I’m back to being a whore who gets taken advantage of but now never a guinea is put in her purse.”

“True, Lily, true,” Thomas said with mock sadness. “The dreadful story of how you became a poor sailor’s doxy should be a lesson to all the legions of the fallen women that my uncle Cromwell transported to the Indies.” He nodded his head. “Of course, my concern for these poor young women’s welfare is well known; indeed that’s why Ned always refers to me as ‘my lord bishop’.”

Diana looked directly at Thomas and smiled lewdly. “Indeed? Aurelia told me it was because you once confided to him, when you were more than usually drunk, that you dreamed of making love to me on a church altar.”

Thomas flushed and coughed. “Well, that’s Ned’s story. I’ve never been inside a church with you.”

“No,” Diana said thoughtfully, “nor you have.”

Later, on board the
Griffin
, Ned said: “That must be St Barthélemy almost dead ahead. We’ll have it abeam by nightfall, and soon after dawn tomorrow you’ll see the Dutch side of St Martin. I believe the Dutch spell it ‘Maarten’, but I prefer the French way.”

“You’re prejudiced, sir,” Lobb said, grinning at Aurelia.

She clapped her hands. “Think, in a day or so I’ll be hearing French spoken by Frenchmen – the first time for many months. Years, in fact, apart from the buccaneers.”

“Well, you can’t expect your luck to hold for ever,” Ned growled, and then suddenly stiffened. “You’re still a French subject!”

“No, I’m not,” Aurelia said firmly. “I became English when I married Wilson. I don’t lose that just because Wilson died!”

“Of course not,” Ned correctly himself hurriedly. “Just for a moment – well, you were only saying a few days ago about trusting kings and governments…”

Lobb said: “Anyway, I think madame could give a very good account of herself as an Englishwoman who happens to speak good French.”

“You should have heard her cursing those Spaniards in the
plaza
at San Germán,” Ned said. “Sounded very Spanish and earthy to me!”

“What time does the moon rise?” Aurelia asked sweetly. “It should make those islands there, Nevis, St Kitts and St Eustatius too, look like fairy islands!”

As the
Griffin
ran northwards from St Barthélemy with the Dutch side of the island of St Martin sitting four-square on the horizon ahead, the sun rose on the starboard hand, tinting several small islets a rose colour that just managed to soften their harsh and jagged lines. A constant swell put ragged white collars of breaking water round every rock and it was still early enough for the sea itself to be a harsh grey, the rolling crests flecking with red.

“So that’s the
mynheers’
half of the island,” Aurelia commented to Ned, pointing ahead. “Well, they seem to have chosen all the mountains! That line of peaks running through the middle is a spine; it looks like a sleeping iguana.”

“I wish I knew if this damned south-east wind was going to hold for the rest of the day,” Ned said crossly.

“Why don’t you like it now? It’s brought us up from Guadeloupe at a spanking pace!”

Ned pointed over the starboard bow. “Just look at all those islets and isolated rocks lying between us and the eastern side of St Martin.”

“Why should they put you in such a bad humour?”

“Marigot is on the opposite side of the island – on the far side from where we’re heading. If we sail down the western side and the wind backs, we’ll have to beat up to Marigot.”

“Beating just a few miles? I don’t mind that!” Aurelia said. “Why are you worrying? If you want to avoid the risk of having to beat up to Marigot, let’s dodge about among those rocks and islets and sail round the east coast, so we’ll be running free, whether the wind has backed or not!”

He continued staring at the island ahead, a blue-grey lump: too far away to distinguish the natural colours yet.

“Oh Ned,” Aurelia said impatiently, “it doesn’t matter! Go whichever way round you want.”

Ned sighed theatrically. “I’m sure Thomas doesn’t have to put up with this sort of bullying from Diana. She cossets him and is understanding when he has problems.”

“I don’t know what makes you think that! I’ve noticed Thomas does exactly what Diana says, although perhaps not at once, just to save his pride. At least
he
doesn’t treat her like a mistress who comes running to bed as soon as he calls.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Ned asked innocently. “I always do what you say
and
I come to bed the minute you call. That’s if I’m not already there, waiting for you.”

Aurelia made a face. “If you’re not careful I’ll give in and marry you. Then I’ll demand my rights as a wife.”

Ned inspected a group of islets on the
Griffin
’s starboard bow and then tucked the glass under his arm. “I always had the impression that mistresses have more privileges than wives.”

“Oh yes,” Aurelia agreed sweetly, “when her lover dies she has no responsibilities whatsoever: no money, no home, no rights… The poor wife has all the worry of being left her husband’s fortune, his house, his estate…”

“Unless there’s a son, in which case she’s moved out to the dower house and becomes a plump dowager and an indulgent grandmother living on the charity of her son.”

“All right. I’m persuaded now,” Aurelia declared, “I remain your mistress.”

“It was the running to bed that decided you,” Ned teased.

“No, I don’t fancy the dower house. England is probably crowded with dower houses, all cold, damp and gloomy.” She shivered.

Ned thought for a moment. “Well, you’d have a choice of three Yorke dower houses. The nicest is the one on the Godmersham estate. It’s near Ashford in the lee of the Downs, and is far from gloomy. A stream runs through the garden, plenty of fruit trees… When I was last there, plenty of flowers too. The one on the Ilex estate – well, you’d probably find that too big; nine bedrooms, a kitchen with a spit large enough to roast an ox. And of course you’d be cheek by jowl with your nephew, who’d have inherited the title from brother George and be living at Ilex.”

Aurelia pretended to be considering the alternatives. “Yes, the Godmersham house does sound possible, but still, England is so
cold
…and the long, long winter, as bad as northern France. No, I shall stay in the Tropics to be warm, so I won’t marry you. But I warn you, as your mistress I shall demand emeralds and rubies, and gold rings and chains and brooches…”

“None of which you have already?” Ned asked with raised eyebrows.

“Oh,” she said airily, “I do have a few trinkets you’ve given me and which I can wear when I go back to live in Barbados, a cast-off mistress. Don’t forget I still have the estate there that I inherited from my husband. Not that I shall ever set foot in it again because it would remind me of what a terrible man he was. But I could sell it and buy another. One large enough to attract another lover.”

“Yes,” Ned agreed with mock seriousness, “and then you’ll realize what a wonderful lover you had before…”

“It’s a risk I’ll take,” Aurelia said. “If he’s after my money at least he’ll be kind – until he gets it, anyway. So you’re going round the west side of the island?”

“The chart I have doesn’t show half these islets; just a few scribbles,” Ned said. “But along the west coast there’s nothing to worry about, nor round to Marigot.”

Aurelia shivered, and Ned noticed. “What’s the matter? Do you want your cloak?”

She shook her head. “No, I just wish I could see the other side of the island. I’m beginning to feel
timide
. How big is a galleon?”

“I’ve never seen one, but four or five times as big as this ship, I suppose. But it may not still be there. I’ve stopped thinking about how many weeks ago we first heard about the damned thing. If they’ve had any bad weather she could have broken up. A few weeks of northerly swells lifting her and bumping her down again could break her back or send the masts by the board… Or the French might have brought in ships and captured her; all the gold and silver could be on its way to Paris by now…”

“Cheer up,” Aurelia said, “but if you’re going to satisfy your mistress’ greed, you’ll need better luck than that.”

An hour later, when the sun had lifted high enough to raise the shadow from the western side of the mountains, the
Griffin
, followed by the
Phoenix
and the
Peleus
, reached the southern tip of the island, finding a deep half-circle of a bay almost entirely closed by a reef. Ned saw that the reef in fact made the bay into a natural port, and in addition to a ruined jetty there was a small fort on the western arm. More interesting was the fact that there were twenty or more sloops anchored close to the remains of the jetty, and on the beach beyond there were several pyramids of salt. A minute or two later, as the
Griffin
was lifted on a swell wave, Ned saw a big lagoon behind the beach – probably an enormous salt pond. It was surprising the whole place was not called Salt Island – most of the inhabitants must (judging from the mountainous land) be salters – or goats!

“That reef must give very little protection when the wind pipes up from the south or west,” Ned commented to Lobb. “But while it stays in the east, these sloops can unload cargo into boats, or take off salt. Carry it down to Curaçao, I suppose. All that salt–” he gestured to the piles on the beach, “–with all those mountains means
mynheer
can’t grow much. If the French have any flat land, they got the best bargain!”

“How did they decide who had which half?” Lobb asked.

Ned laughed drily. “I don’t really know, but there’s a story (no doubt told by the French) that it was agreed a Frenchman and a Hollander should stand back to back and, at a signal, start walking in opposite directions round the coast. That was to be one end of the frontier, and the other would be where they met. The Frenchman got farther round – giving the French the larger portion – because the Hollander was also a trencherman and stopped for a hearty lunch.”

“To be fair to the Dutch, I can’t see a Frenchman missing a good meal,” Aurelia said doubtfully. “But if the French part is like this, all mountains and valleys and cliffs, I don’t think either of them got a bargain (except in salt) if they wanted to plant sugar or tobacco, or even vegetables to eat themselves! The mountains look beautiful enough, but only goats can appreciate them. And water…both sugar and tobacco need plenty, but does it rain much?”

As the three ships sailed along the coast, they saw that the mountains with their rounded peaks soon curved inland, leaving a flat plain like a shelf to form the western corner of the island, with long sandy beaches.

“Low land, shallow water,” Ned said to Aurelia, who looked puzzled.

He explained: “Where the land is low, as it’s now becoming, usually the sea gets shallower. Where there are high mountains and cliffs, you’ll find the sea is generally deep right up to the shore.”

Aurelia, looking ahead over the
Griffin
’s bow, nodded. “I can see the water changing colour. It’s becoming a lighter blue, and where that furthest bay curves inland, it’s light green.”

Ned searched the coast with his glass. These mountains were high but beautiful: in every case the slope up to the peak was smooth and gentle; each mountain had trees growing on the lower slopes and usually they thinned out to give way to smaller trees, little more than bushes, and finally shrubs which were so green that from a distance each mountain seemed covered in a green carpet. Only occasionally a sharp edge of rock showed where some fall had made a crevasse.