Galleon (36 page)

This was confirmed a couple of minutes later when Lobb, who had been standing on the foredeck with the perspective glass, called aft that he could see the flag flying from the flagpole in front of the Governor’s residence.

“That won’t please Thomas,” Ned commented to Aurelia. “He’s sooner see it at half-mast and go on shore to find out he’d just missed old Loosely’s funeral by a couple of days…”

“
Chéri
, promise me you’ll try to be civil to Sir Harold from now on. He has a very difficult task,” Aurelia said, “and for the first week or two – when you and Thomas took against him – he still thought he was in London.”

“You’re fair to him but hardly fair to Thomas and me,” Ned grumbled. “We’ve defended this damned island for the King, and even given it a currency – don’t forget that but for us the piece of eight would not be the official currency of Jamaica, and without it what would we buccaneers and the tradesmen – and old Loosely – do for money? Why, he withdraws the commissions of the buccaneers and drives them away. The man is a fool, even by Court standards. Idiots like him belong in the Church or Parliament.”

“In Parliament with your brother?” Aurelia asked innocently.

“Just because George is a peer it doesn’t mean he is stupid – he never attends Parliament.”

“He hasn’t had much chance because he was with the King in France until the Restoration, and since then he’s been busy trying to get the family estates back. So not
everyone
in Parliament is stupid.”

“Enough to make George an exception,” Ned said sourly and turned to look astern. Following closely in the
Griffin
’s wake (too closely for comfort, as far as Ned was concerned) was the
Sans Peur
. Couperin, making his first visit to Port Royal, was certainly following Ned’s instructions that he was to follow in the
Griffin
’s wake.

The
Peleus
and the
Phoenix
were following on each quarter of the French ship. For the hundreds of miles run from St Martin, past St Eustatius, Saba, Santa Cruz, Porto Rico (like Hispaniola seen only as a thin grey line on the northern horizon) and now the south coast of Jamaica, they had maintained perfect formation, keeping each other in sight at night with lanterns but in daylight taking it in turns to investigate any strange sail seen in the distance. Seldom, Ned thought to himself, had any golden goose had such an attentive flock.

For that matter, the goose (with a galleon’s cargo of bullion and gems stowed below) was lucky that no ship or fleet hove in sight to say “boo”. There were always enough rumours – even definite reports – that the Spanish on the Main were expecting a fleet from Spain or had a squadron at sea, to make a voyage from somewhere like St Martin to Jamaica with such a cargo in such a small vessel a desperate venture. Santa Cruz, Vieques, Port Rico, Hispaniola – all were Spanish islands, and although they were all to the north, the Main itself was to the south.

Lobb was giving orders to the men and the
Griffin
turned a point to starboard to avoid Gun Cay, and then a point to larboard to dodge a reef. Ned watched the
Sans Peur
as Lobb then ordered a large alteration as they turned northwards to thread their way among some more reefs.

Finally, the
Griffin
led the ships round the headland and into the anchorage, and started the long beat to windward, intending to anchor close to the jetty jutting out from the north side of Port Royal, opposite the Governor’s residence and close to the lobster crawl.

Fresh meat, Ned thought, his mouth watering. With the meat market only a few yards from the end of the jetty, Ned knew one of Lobb’s first tasks after anchoring the ship would be to send men to buy beeves and make arrangements to roast them. Everyone on board the
Griffin
was tired of boucanned or salt meat.

Aurelia smiled and patted his stomach. “It’s not hard to guess what you are thinking about. Thomas and Saxby, too!”

“You and Diana will continue eating boucan, of course?” Ned inquired innocently. “By the way, is there any woman on the island who might suit Couperin? I think he’s rather lonely.”

“I
know
he’s rather ‘lonely’, poor man,” Aurelia said, “but at the moment I can’t think of anyone who might interest him in a regular sense.”

Ned shrugged his shoulders. “Well, those sort of introductions never work. Anyway, I don’t know what kind of woman he likes.”

“From the way he looks at Diana and me, I don’t think he’ll be too fussy. Anyway, I wonder how General Heffer has been getting on while we’ve been away.”

“Either he’s taken to locking himself in his office, or he’s a trembling wreck, leaping into the air every time old Loosely calls him.”

“Yes, I’m afraid it’ll be one or the other.” She paused, staring at the James bastion, which they were passing close on the starboard bow as Lobb tacked the ship. “Look, old Heffer has his men exercising at the guns!”

Ned thought for a moment. Exercising? But Sir Harold Luce had declared that he was paying off most of the soldiers. “Quick Lobb, you’ve got the glass – what are those men doing at the James bastion?”

Before Lobb had time to put the glass to his eye they all saw smoke spurting from the muzzles of the guns, smoke which began streaming off to leeward and was followed by distant thuds.

Without realizing he was doing it, Ned looked for the fall of shot, but there were no spurts of water between the Griffin and the bastion, and certainly no cloth-ripping sound of passing ball. He glanced astern just in time to see small fountains of water collapsing midway between the
Griffin
and the
Sans Peur
.

Lobb held out his arms palms upwards, in a gesture of despair. “They don’t get any better, sir,” he called. “Perhaps we should all wear round and pass closer!”

“Who do they think we are, Spaniards?” Aurelia asked.

“Heffer must have recognized the three of us when we passed the other side of the sandspit,” Ned said. “I’m sure he didn’t order these men to open fire.”

“Then who did? Oh
no
!” Aurelia exclaimed. “Oh well, if you’re right I’ll take back all I said about him!”

The bastion also fired at the
Peleus
and the
Phoenix
as they passed but, as Lobb commented, their aim was so bad that the officer in charge of the bastion ought to have his hand slapped.

Ned noted thankfully that the
Sans Peur
had stayed close in the
Griffin’
s wake, even though Couperin must have been startled at being fired on when entering what he had been told was the buccaneers’ home port. There had been no time before leaving Marigot (nor had it seemed the appropriate place) to give a detailed explanation of the English government’s curious attitude towards Jamaica. Until he was absolutely sure that Couperin was going to prove an enthusiastic buccaneer, Ned was reluctant to reveal that there was a very good chance the English King intended to give Jamaica back to Spain (much as one might shut the front door and say thank you after having the use of a house for a week).

Poor old Charles: barely back on the throne of England before being blamed for everything that went wrong. To be fair, no king could be wiser than his advisers when deciding what to do in lands he did not know. As far as Ned could see, the men giving advice (whether to Cromwell or to the King) about the West Indies had always been ignorant fools. His own experience admittedly only went back to Cromwell, but there was no reason to think the present advisers were any better; in fact, the way things were going now it seemed that those round the King might be worse. Every fool whose horizon was limited to St James’s was probably an expert (at Court) on West Indian affairs.

And now the
Griffin
was furling sails as Lobb brought her round to anchor. Ned smiled at Aurelia. Despite all the irritations there had been when they left to catch up with Thomas and the
Peleus
, it was good to be back. It was very easy to get angry with Jamaica when you were really angry with someone like old Loosely. You needed patience because the Looselys of this world, as soon as they realized that Jamaica could not provide them with either fame or fortune, had themselves recalled to England. Governors of colonies were ambitious men: each posting was a step up (they hoped!) the ladder whose lower rungs were made of money, nepotism and opportunism and whose upper ones were held in place with various orders of knighthood.

As the
Sans Peur
anchored to leeward and the
Phoenix
and the
Peleus
took up their usual positions on each quarter, Lobb came up to report, almost apologetically: “There’s a fishing boat coming out to us from the jetty, sir, and I’m afraid it’s bringing that mincing secretary to the Governor…”

“Make him brush off the fish scales before you allow him on board,” Ned said, and Lobb grinned. Suddenly Ned felt too tired to put up with Sir Harold: not physically tired, but unwilling to truckle with a man who could never have made a spontaneous remark in his life; whose every sentence had to be examined because it had two meanings, if not more. Luce, he thought bitterly, was such a perfect trimmer it was impossible to understand why honest men had anything to do with him. He had survived and flourished under Cromwell; at the Restoration he had trimmed his sails and was now under way again, only this time in the King’s service…

“And Lobb – if he’s carrying a letter from the Governor, bring it down to me: I don’t want to see the young man. Tell him I’m too busy.”

Young man…the phrase came easily enough but Hamilton was about his own age and Luce was probably paying off his tailor by taking the man’s son as his aide: that was how most of these youngsters started off. Well, it was possible for a tailor’s son to get a dukedom by trimming, as the Duke of Albemarle had just shown…

Ned went down to the cabin with Aurelia and suddenly kissed her affectionately. She responded with equal warmth, and then held him at arm’s length. “What are you up to now?”

“Nothing,” he said innocently. “Why can’t I just want to kiss you?”

“You can, and I hope you always do, but at this moment you have a look in your eye – a
cunning
look. What trick are you going to play on that poor man Hamilton?”

“Trick? What trick
can
I play on him? Damnation, we’ve just sailed into Port Royal, been fired at from the bastion by guns
we
provided and using powder
we
supplied, and you ask me what trick
I
am going to play? Better ask old Loosely what trick he’s
already
played.”

“All right, then, tell me why Sir Harold Luce had his guns fire on us?”

“That’s easy. He’s jealous of me because I have such a lovely Frenchwoman as a mistress.”

Aurelia smiled but persisted. “Come on, be serious.”

“All right. It’s actually Thomas’ fault. Sir Harold lusts after Diana. He’s been reading the Song of Solomon again and Diana’s breasts are driving him mad. Or the thought of them, anyway.”

There was a knock on the cabin door and Lobb came in. “This fellow, sir: he hasn’t got a letter. Says he must see you because he’s got an urgent message from the Governor.”

“Ned,” Aurelia said quietly, “you promised…”

Ned made a face. “All right, bring him down, but stay and listen to what he says: one can’t have enough witnesses when dealing with these people.”

Sir Harold’s secretary arrived with a thump, missing the last two steps of the companionway and falling in a heap at the doorway. Lobb stood behind him, unsmiling, as he stood up and straightened his jerkin, tugged at his lace collar and tried to wriggle his breeches lower: the fall had obviously pulled them tight under the crotch, and with Aurelia present he could do nothing more.

Ned glared at him as he stepped into the cabin, and before he could say anything demanded: “Well, where is the written apology?”

“Apology? Sir, I bring a message from the Governor and–”

“Listen carefully. Sir Harold Luce’s guns fired on my ships as we passed the James bastion. I want to know why, and I want a written apology.”

“Very well, sir, I’ll tell him that. But–”

“Delivered before I listen to anything he has to say,” Ned growled. “Good morning to you.”

“But sir, I have an urgent–”

“Trying to knock my head off with roundshot fired from guns I captured from the Spanish and gave to Jamaica is urgent,” Ned said angrily. “You don’t know just how urgent a roundshot sounds when it whistles past your ear but, if you’ll excuse me, I am busy: we have to make a careful inspection of this ship to see what damage we received.”

“Oh sir,” the wretched Hamilton wailed, “I’m sure none of the shot hit your ship!”

“None hit my ship?” Ned suddenly roared at him. “Why not? Do you mean to say we captured those guns at Santiago, brought them back here, made Heffer build bastions, provided powder and shot, and after all that the damned gunners can’t hit an innocent ship passing a hundred yards away? Not one ship but
four
! Blasting away into the middle of the covey, they were – and now you say they didn’t hit anything!”

“No, sir,” stammered Hamilton. “I didn’t say they didn’t hit anything–”

“Oh, now you admit your damned guns did hit my ships! Well, I want to know why they opened fire.”

“Sir, I didn’t mean that they actually hit your ships–”

“Ah, now you say they are such a crowd of dunderheads that they can’t hit such close targets. That’s what I was saying: the guns, powder and shot are just a waste.”

“Sir, they thought you were Spanish!”

Ned appeared to freeze. “Oh, so I am Spanish now, eh? An enemy of Jamaica, of Sir Harold Luce and his blessed majesty the King. Not a traitor, just an enemy. Well, you–”

Ned knew that Aurelia’s pinch would soon draw blood from his arm unless he looked at her. He knew her well enough to recognize that she was fighting hard to avoid laughing, and he had noticed Lobb duck out of the cabin a couple of minutes ago after seeing Hamilton tripping over himself.