Sacred Hunger (62 page)

There followed now several pages which some particular wear or friction, or perhaps the poorer quality of the ink, had rendered illegible. Erasmus felt hot and half stifled in the close confines of the cabin. The sweetish smell that rose from the pages came like some repugnant claim on him. He had retrieved this record from its journey to dust, and the rescue seemed to make him for the moment his cousin’s accomplice.

Perhaps in the final pages Paris might have written something to incriminate himself. The writing here was more hasty and ragged, though still for the most part clear enough.

This morning we consigned to the sea Evans, who had been declining these two weeks past with a low fever and died on deck. Also two slaves, a man of the bloody flux and a boy of the gravel and stoppage of the urine, thus bringing… McGann in irons for the second time, for begging rice from the negroes’ bowls. Now that supplies are running low, the slaves get more than the crew, which is reasonable from Thurso’s point of view since he has no hope of selling the latter and may save their wages if they die. Water too is growing scarce comthe men are rationed to one pint a day.

McGann is sick with scurvy, but his appetite seems not to be affected. On being detected he was beaten by Barton with a rope’s end, then set in irons on the deck. He sits there in his shackles with his face screwed up tight and the red bonnet, which he has worn all the voyage, still hanging over his brow… not far from death, in my judgement, but still has not relented in the matter of his wager with Sullivan.

He is not the only one of our people to beg thus. I have been surprised to see the negroes give sometimes from their own portions, notwithstanding the grievous condition they are themselves in. It cannot be pity, how could they pity the men who have brought them to this pass? Crew and slaves are in the embrace of a wretchedness so profound that it precludes all animosity, all personal… my cabin here, I can hardly breathe in the mid-parts of the day and seek what breezes I can get on the weather side. The stench of the ship is truly terrible, there is not only the reek that rises from the bilges, but the smell of the slave quarters grows daily less supportable, for all our applications of vinegar and sulphur.

My fancies grow sick, I feel the breeding of disease in the pores of her timbers and… We are afoul breath on the ocean that bears us.

May i j Mot only fancies are bred in these days but memories dredged up as it were from the sea. I have been thinking much of you lately and of our child that we never saw. It haunts my thoughts that you cried out for me and I was not there. Worse than this, against all reason and yet beyond my power to suppress, there is the fear that you were there in the crowd, that you saw me, head and hands thrust forward in that grotesque position, my face bleeding and fouled, and it was this memory of my face that you carried to the grave, while yours in my memory is flawless and… these ugly thoughts, my dearest.

I know that if I had not persisted in publishing my opinions—which I did out of arrogance… into prison and ruin. Because of this I took Kemp’s offer, not from any necessity of a material nature, but from the necessity of my shame… regard myself as valueless, as disposable for any purpose, however unworthy… throw my life away but I have been brought with despair to see that this was the same self-regard as before. I have assisted in the suffering inflicted on these innocent people and in so doing joined the ranks of those that degrade the unoffending… This has been my crime and I am more guilty in it than the common seamen, who can plead the dire necessity of
—

Erasmus closed the book with sudden violence.

He understood better now the initial reluctance he had felt. Reading had brought his cousin too close. In some such cramped and narrow space as this, where he himself was now, Paris must have written the words. His image came through them, undimmed by the years: the awkward, heavy-shouldered form in its clerical black, the lined face with its look of obstinate patience. He had suffered… Erasmus felt the touch of an intolerable compassion. At the same time he could hardly believe what he had been reading. It struck him as verging on madness. This wild confession, this owning to a crime so outlandish, so totally different from the true ones of mutiny and theft of the negroes, outraged him with its insolence and perversity. In the conflict of these feelings Erasmus was swept by doubt and loneliness. His whole being seemed under threat of dissolution. What became of law, of legitimacy, of established order, if a man could assume such attitudes of private morality, decide for himself where his fault lay? It turned everything upside down. He could think of nothing more damnable. And yet… He remembered suddenly the second, rarer smile his cousin had, the one that came slowly, transforming his face. Briefly, unwillingly, Erasmus glimpsed the possibility of freedom. His face and hands felt hot, feverish almost. He went to the water jug on his narrow table and washed, cupping the cold water in his hands and throwing it repeatedly up into his face. After this, feeling the need for air, he mounted to the deck and found a sky still smouldering in the aftermath of sunset. Embers of cloud glowed in the east and there were long rifts of fire low over the sea. He stood at the rail, breathing deeply, watching the flame die slowly to colours of cinders and ash, allowing his knowledge of his cousin’s wickedness to return and comfort him.

On the second day following, helped by the constant flow of the stream and a fair wind from the south-east, they drew level with Anastasia Island and by the middle of the afternoon, crossing the bar at high tide, they had anchored in the harbour of Still Augustine.

Turned out as elegantly as conditions at sea permitted, in a cocked hat and dove-grey suit, and accompanied by Harvey in sober black and a powdered pigtail, Erasmus stepped on to the quayside to find himself being saluted by a young lieutenant of Dragoons, resplendent in full dress uniform, waiting for him beside an ancient, creaking four-wheeler. Word of the ship’s approach had come post from Anastasia Island, the lieutenant explained, flicking with his gloves at the cracked leather seats of the coach. The Governor was detained in the port at present over some business with stores. He apologized for the state of the conveyance, but there was nothing better to be found, the Spanish having allowed things to run down to a degree quite shocking. With the Colony now in British hands, things would very soon be improved…

At a pace consistent with the powers of their skinny horses and ragged, consumptive-looking driver, they proceeded over the bridge and causeway spanning the estuary of the Still Sebastian River, with the decayed fortress of Still Mark, built by the Spanish, looming up across the flat, marshy landscape. The city was built along a narrow ridge of land between marsh and river mouth and lay a good two miles from the ocean, though within sight of the bar and lighthouse.

The lieutenant, who was very young, had been instructed to make himself agreeable to the distinguished visitor from England and he strove to fulfil his instructions, pointing out features of the landscape, apologizing yet again for the Governor’s absence. Colonel Campbell had left word he would be back within the hour. Would Mr Kemp care to wait at the Residence? The lieutenant ventured to think they could make him tolerably comfortable…

Erasmus considered. He had never taken easily to waiting; and there would be some advantage, slight but ponderable, in having himself properly announced and received, rather than appearing to wait on the governor’s pleasure. They had entered now the precincts of the city. A pleasant, well-shaded avenue led between gardens and orange groves. “If you will be good enough to set me down in the principal square,” he said, “I will walk for an hour and view the town.”

The offer of an escort was declined with polite firmness. In a short while Erasmus was sauntering through the lanes that ran north and south, parallel to the sea wall, Harvey a pace behind, laden with his sword and his gloves and the small box containing his letters of introduction and soon—since the afternoon sun was still hot—his coat and hat.

He was struck by the silence and abandonment of the place. There were no surfaced roads. There were no pavements or sidewalks. The houses were built in the Spanish style, with projecting balconies and latticed verandahs. Time and weather had softened their colours and crumbled the walls surrounding their neglected gardens. For the most part they were shuttered and silent. The whole city lay under the hush of desertion. The stores in the square were boarded. A few listless Indians sat on the steps of the Spanish Mission Church. He encountered small groups of redcoated soldiers from the garrison, but no European civilians at all. The British, it seemed, had taken over an empty city.

It was early evening when he presented himself at the Residence, a white, Spanish-style mansion of good proportions, facing to the sea. He was conducted to the drawing-room, where he found Campbell, together with another man, an officer in uniform, awaiting him. He delivered his letters and expressed himself delighted to make the Governor’s acquaintance.

‘And I yours, sir,” the Governor said. “I bid you heartily welcome here in our new Colony of Florida.” He was a lean, wiry man, with an energetic manner and the accents of his native Banffshire. His eyes were small and watchful and they held a twinkling light. ‘I have the honour to present Major Redwood, the commander of our garrison here,” he said.

“Your servant, sir.” The major brought his heels together with a jingle of spears. He was big and fair-browed, with a good-humoured, careless face.

“We have a damned good brandy here,” he said, “if you want to celebrate being on terra firma again. I hate ships myself. The Spanish left a cellarful of it. Just about all they did leave, apart from rusty cannon and dying Indians.”

“Come, Redwood, we must not give our visitor the wrong impression.”

This had been said with a smile, but Erasmus heard the note of reproof and understood it perfectly. He was swift and acute where his interest was involved. There were two different types of men before him here and the difference might be useful. “We should drink to them for leaving it,” he said with a smile of good-fellowship for Redwood. “Then another bumper in gratitude to them for taking themselves off and allowing us to drink in peace.”

This was a sentiment that appealed to the major, who broke into a loud laugh. Erasmus turned back to the Governor. “They could not take this happy climate away with them,” he said, “nor the fertility of the soil.”

Campbell showed some cautious pleasure at this.

“You are right, sir,” he said. “I perceive you to be a man of sense and observation. Why, you can get three crops of vegetables a year out of this soil and figs and oranges in abundance. This could be a paradise, if settled with subjects of King George and properly cultivated.”

‘Let us drink to that and be damned to the Dons,”

Erasmus said, raising his glass.

“You are proposing to remain some time with us, I believe?”’ Campbell said, after they had drunk.

His small, twinkling eyes rested steadily on Erasmus for some seconds. “Such at least is my hope,” he added.

“You are very good, sir. Yes, some little time. There is much of interest here, and I shall need to inform myself before I can make a full report to my partners in London as to the prospects for development in the Colony.”

Campbell nodded with the vigour characteristic of all his movements. When he spoke, however, his voice was softer and the Scottish accent more clearly audible.

“Yes, sir, we shall hope you carry away with you a favourable impression. But perhaps there is something more particular that you will be requiring from us?”’

Erasmus sipped his brandy. There had been more than politeness in this query. It was almost as if the other were reaching for an accommodation between them already. Campbell was a shrewd fellow, by no means the simple soldier he might have wanted to be thought. “There are things we might profitably discuss, sir, bye and bye,” he said. “Time and your other engagements permitting.”

“In the meantime, what do you say to some more brandy?”’ Redwood said, turning towards the sideboard. He moved lightly for a man of his bulk. ” ‘Twill evaporate completely if left too long.”

“You will stay with us here, of course, for the length of your visit?”’ the Governor said. “I dare say we can make you rather more comfortable than you will have been aboard ship.”

Erasmus made some demur, but not much; he had been expecting the offer. He was engaged to dinner and shown his quarters, while Harvey, who had just discovered a source of grog below stairs and had begun to harbour designs on a serving girl with Spanish brows and Indian colouring, was dispatched back to the ship for some further necessities of his master’s.

There were only the three of them at dinner. An orderly in uniform served them with quail pie and roast venison and an assortment of fresh vegetables, accompanied by a good Burgundy.

Erasmus commented on the excellence of the meal.

“We owe it to Redwood,” Campbell said, glancing at the commandant with his usual careful, close-mouthed geniality. The major, it was now explained, had been in charge of the British occupation force when the Colony was handed over by the Spanish, and had served as administrator until the Governor’s arrival eighteen months later. A good deal of his time had been spent on food, one way and another—organizing field kitchens for the garrison, recruiting and training kitchen staff for the Residence, ensuring a supply of fresh meat and vegetables from the surrounding countryside.

“Well, my congratulations, sir,” Erasmus said. “The results do you credit.” Much of what Campbell had just been telling him he knew already, though he was careful to give no indication of this. In his usual methodical way, he had made enquiries before leaving England and he knew more about both men than either would have suspected. As they sat after dinner on the terrace with their brandy and cigars, he reviewed this knowledge in his mind. Redwood had been a professional soldier from the age of eighteen when he had joined as an ensign in a regiment of infantry. Since then he had seen service in a dozen campaigns. He was brave, competent, perhaps not greatly ambitious, though he would doubtless be hoping for promotion now, after his services in this interim period. He struck Erasmus as a man who would do much for the sake of friendship or even from a careless kind of generosity. Not so Campbell…