‘Yes, I see, please take your place aboard, Madame. Next.’
SIXTEEN
Surrounded by treacherous shoals and reefs, Cow Island was a perilous place for the unsuspecting captain, which, Jacob deduced, made it consequently more difficult to raid. However, for the knowing master and commander, it was a choice spot, a place to shelter and careen, which was doubly why Laurent de Graaf had made it his base, and all the more so now that his command of it had been officialised by the French governor of Saint-Domingue. It was for this reason that the group of freed indentured colonists had elected to establish themselves here.
The buccaneer, revered by the French and feared by the Spanish, did not look at all like the callous man Jacob had been expecting. He was very tall, blond, and with his goatee, there was something of the elegance of a musketeer about him. In fact, he was disarmingly charming and refused to let Jacob reside any place other than in his own house, which, he said, had enough room to accommodate the ladies, if they did not mind sharing.
‘Well, Sir, I do not know what to say,’ said Jacob as they approached the promontory where the house was perched. It overlooked the northwest bay and the little natural harbour below. Madame Odet, Madame de Fontenay, and Mademoiselle Duvivier were walking along with them.
‘Then say nothing, Monsieur Delpech,’ said the newly appointed major, who motioned to the ladies to enter the modest abode before him. ‘Ladies. I pray you enjoy your stay here at Cow Island.’
It was a modest house with a tin roof, and yet it was more convivial than the residence of Monsieur Verbizier.
The following morning, as the sun was rising, Jacob was woken by hollering sailors, banging and rolling noises, and all sorts of hubbub coming from down at the cove where de Graaf’s great frigate was anchored. From his whitewashed window, Jacob could easily see the tall, energetic figure of the young major, directing operations.
An hour later, on striding up to the house in front of which Jacob was now standing, de Graaf said, ‘Ah, Monsieur Delpech, you must excuse me, I have urgent business at my plantation in Petit Goave.’
Jacob had acquired a certain empathy for the man, knowing from their talk of the previous evening about how he himself had been a slave in the hands of the Spanish on the Canary Islands. He no doubt inspired the same feeling of kinship in his men which made him such a charismatic commander to fight for.
‘I hope there is nothing awry, Monsieur de Graaf,’ said Jacob, glancing across the harbour. It was a beautiful morning over the limpid aquamarine bay, rimmed with immaculate strips of sand where coconut trees grew. And there was not a ripple on the water.
‘Just routine,’ said the buccaneer, ‘nothing I cannot handle.’
He did not halt but followed his stride into the study, where he retrieved some rolled charts. Then, on his way back through the hall, he said, ‘During my absence, an English merchant ship will call by here. Do not be alarmed. The captain is a friend of mine. Daniel Darlington is his name. He will be arriving from Saint Thomas.’
‘An Englishman?’
‘I trust I can count on you to give him a warm welcome on my behalf?’ said Laurent de Graaf, with an eloquent smile.
This was clearly a tacit invitation to leave the island, was it not?
‘You may indeed, Sir,’ said Jacob with discretion.
‘Good man,’ said de Graaf, tapping Jacob on the round of his shoulder. ‘And I am certain you will find him receptive to your cause.’
‘Understood, and I must thank you for your hospitality, Sir,’ said Jacob.
‘You are most welcome. And, please do not think me pert, but I hope to find my house empty when I return!’ The tall Dutchman gave a short bow, then continued out through the door. ‘My regards to the ladies!’ he called back. ‘Oh, and there are men I have left in charge here. They are here to guard against outside aggression, but they have orders to leave you in peace.’
*
Within the hour, the famous captain had departed as he had planned. And over the coming weeks, several times a day, Jacob looked through the brass spyglass he found in the salon, in the hope of spotting the silhouette of a ship on the eastern horizon.
During this time, he also explored the islet high and low, in its length and breadth. He made sketches, read up on medicinal plants, and, having found a musket in a cupboard, went hunting with Jacques Rouchon, the indentured worker he met on board La Charmante at Grand Anse. Rouchon was jovial company, rustic but practical-minded; he was also a crack shot and an excellent trapper. During their hunting jaunts, he recounted the exploits of de Graaf, how the colossus had defended the coast of Saint-Domingue against the Spaniards from Cuba, and how he had made a fortune plundering their treasure fleet and settlements.
‘Very clever man, de Graaf. Can speak to his men in four different languages, you know,’ said Rouchon one day as they were resting on the hilltop. It offered an impressive view over the lush mangrove forest on one side, and the harbour inlet fringed with golden beach on the other. ‘And shrewd with it,’ he continued. ‘Do you know why else he’s so attached to this here island?’
‘I should think because it is easy to defend, for one,’ said Delpech, scanning the eastern horizon through his spyglass.
‘And because of the sunken treasure!’
‘Treasure?’
‘Aye, down there somewhere be the treasure of Captain Morgan of Jamaica,’ said Rouchon, motioning towards the inlet, which prompted Jacob to swing round with the spyglass. Rouchon then recounted the story of how the islet used to be one of Morgan’s assembly points, where pirates from all around the Caribbean would come together and join forces before heading out on a campaign against the Spaniards.
‘Then one day, while they were making merry and letting off muskets and guns and what have you, a spark flew into the gunpowder room and blew up Morgan’s ship! That weren’t all. She took down with her the two captured French ships laden with treasure! Just think, it could be at the bottom of that there inlet.’
‘Then why does nobody fetch it up?’
‘It be cursed; not even Morgan can touch it. He came back for it only to wreck another ship!’
‘But why would it be cursed?’ said Jacob, who was less interested in Morgan’s treasure than the moral of the tale.
‘Because the explosion took with it three hundred men, most of ’em so sozzled out of their brains, they couldn’t swim even if they knew how! Three hundred souls haunt that very cove. Makes yer shiver, dunnit.’
On another occasion, Rouchon admitted he had come to the island with the other colonists, just to see with his own eyes where the treasure might lie. But given the curse, and now that he had been and seen, he was finding the mosquito-infested islet too small. He was wondering if he should try his hand on a larger island, one far from Santo Domingo and the Spanish raiders of Cuba. And one place that sprang to mind was again the one he briefly evoked on the brigantine. It was Jamaica.
With a free rein on the islet and with want of what to do, both Rouchon and Delpech also lent a hand to the other colonists. They had settled on the southwest slopes on the other side of the freshwater pond, though still only a short distance from the northwest harbour.
The eastern part was mostly avoided. Being low-lying, it was full of unhealthy swampland infested with mosquitoes, the island’s biggest blight. Since their arrival, the new settlers had, despite the stifling heat and the incommodious insects blown by the breeze, already built rudimentary accommodation, churned and turned over the soil, planted crops, and located the best places to catch the massive manatee—a native delicacy—and the wild boar that roamed freely on the big island opposite.
To pass the time, Jacob had acquired an interest in sketching. He found the island offered incredible diversity for such a relatively small area. It seemed moreover to bring him closer to God; it gave him an even greater appreciation of His intricate creation. These were times he preferred to be alone. But of late, he had invited Mademoiselle Duvivier to
join him.
One of the guards, a young man of some vigour, in the absence of normal social boundaries, had become helpful, then amiable, then forward. And he now was in danger of becoming blatantly disrespectful, taking it upon himself to call upon the ladies morning and afternoon under the pretext of proposing his aid for anything they desired. It was becoming awkward. Private Guillaume Girard was a simple commoner but a guard all the same, and they were theoretically his prisoners. What was more, he tended to pass by while Jacob was on one of his jaunts.
Marianne going out sketching with Jacob had curbed young Girard’s ardour. At least, so it seemed.
Marianne enjoyed sketching out in the field as much as Jacob did. And when he attempted to explain to her the rudiments of art, it turned out that she had a far greater talent for it than he had. At times she wished she could be in a place where she could enjoy the same rights as men, so that she could learn to become a proper artist.
It was while they were out sketching the mangrove forest one morning that Jacob at last spotted the English merchant ship. They collected their apparatus, borrowed from the house—a spoil from a Spanish settlement—and together they hurried back to break the news to the ladies.
*
That was almost a week ago. Delpech had hoped he would be on his way to London by now. He was gazing out across the cove where the merchant ship lay on its flank like a beached whale in the shallow water. He had heard vaguely about careening. Now he was seeing it with his own eyes.
The ship was lashed down by ropes that were tied to the masts at one end and wrapped around palm trees at the other. The sun had been up only an hour, and already shipmates were working alongside her in a row—a few standing in the longboat, others on wooden platforms—chipping away the barnacles and scraping off the seagrass and seaweed on the exposed surface of the hull.
Captain Daniel Darlington, a well-spoken gentleman, not yet thirty, had explained to Jacob that if they did not careen and repair the ship, they would be at a serious disadvantage if they came across a Spanish patrol or vulgar freebooters. As it was, his ship La Belle had only just escaped pursuit coming round Puerto Rico. The embedded weed and molluscs had restricted manoeuvrability and created drag that had considerably slowed her down. She had received damage at mid-port just above the waterline, before she could get away with all the sail she could make.
So it was time to fix her up and give her a smooth hull. They would have to replace any splintered or worm-eaten timbers, and caulk and shellac gaps between planks, before applying a coat of amber-coloured tar to the whole for optimum protection.
Once repaired, the vessel would have to be hauled out and floated, then ballasted, balanced, and loaded with all the cargo, tackle, water, and supplies that had been removed to make her lighter for hauling. The whole job would probably take a couple of weeks, the crew being no more than a handful of seafarers.
Jacob had waited three years to be set free. He would gladly wait a few weeks more rather than risk foundering at sea.
Moreover, Darlington was not heading for London as Jacob had hoped, but up along the east coast of North America, to the province where he was born of a Dutch mother and an English pastor. Mr Darlington had nonetheless assured Monsieur Delpech that it was easy to get a passage back to Europe from New York.
Daniel Darlington spoke some French and lent a sympathetic ear when his replacement hosts recounted their odyssey, especially—and this did not escape Jacob’s attention—when Marianne spoke. During the first dinner at the house given in his honour, Marianne seemed to glow with inner contentment which made her even more poised, fresh, and beautiful. It was the glow of youth, of youth eager to shine, of youth in search of a soul-mate. The young captain was captivated by her metropolitan manners. She was as refined as porcelain, which made him feel at moments coarser than he really was.
He was nonetheless a wealthy man, and showed the spirit of nonconformist nonchalance common to men of means. He was of the first generation of the English fledgling township of New York. And he was proud of it, although he would certainly not swear allegiance to the English crown, or to any other crown for that matter.
Upon that first dinner—Darlington would dine at the house every evening thereon—Jacob saw clearly that a mutual empathy had been borne between the young people. An empathy which neither he nor Madame de Fontenay cared to discourage.
After the arrival of La Belle in the natural harbour, instead of accompanying Jacob, Marianne took to sketching the ship being hauled and secured for careening, and the operations thereafter, Darlington ever at hand to explain each operation to her. Her grandmother was never far away, chatting with Madame Odet and darning or embroidering new coifs, while secretly reporting to each other any signs of first love.
So Delpech suspected why the previous evening, Mr Darlington had insisted that the two of them spend the morning hunting together. He now turned to face the young man as he strode up to the house from the harbour, kitted out with his fusil over his shoulder.
Daniel Darlington said, ‘Please forgive me if I am a little late, Monsieur Delpech. I was just going over the hull with my carpenter. It seems there is more damage than we initially anticipated. Several more planks need replacing.’
‘That is unfortunate,’ said Jacob, standing with his leather pouch strapped over his shoulder and his flintlock musket at his side.
‘Thankfully, however, our absent host is as far-sighted as he is courageous; he always has seasoned lumber lying around in the storehouse for such cases.’
‘Good, it would not do to take in water,’ said Jacob with a congenial smile, despite the extra setback. ‘But come, let us be off, before the sun gets too high.’
The two men stepped off at a brisk pace in the freshness of the beautiful morning.
‘Would you believe, I always water here on the way from Saint Thomas, and yet I have never ventured further inland than the port beach?’
‘Then be prepared to see some delights of God’s nature, Mr Darlington!’
They took a forest trail past swamps. And as they climbed the hillock to dominate the scenery, they spoke again about the news from England, fresh from Darlington’s contacts in Saint Thomas. It was not what Jacob had hoped. James II was still trying to establish Catholicism. There was even talk of the Protestant clergy inviting the Dutch king to take his place. This could mean yet another civil war in England. Jacob might have to set his sights on Amsterdam instead.
*
‘That is where you will find turtles and manatees,’ said Jacob, pointing to the expanse of seagrass and remarking that it grew as lush as the meadows of Holland.
‘My friend, de Graaf, must feel quite at home then,’ said Daniel Darlington.
‘Except that in Holland, there are no slaves, sugar cane, or buccaneers!’ said Jacob.
‘I have been to England and Amsterdam. I realise that it is a very different world from here,’ said the young captain, showing he would not shy from a challenge. ‘But here, it is a world where only the fittest can survive. It is a land of opportunity; almost any man can live out his dream . . .’
‘Or nightmare,’ said Jacob. ‘Do you know how many human lives your cargo of sugar has probably cost?’
‘No, Sir, but I suspect there is injustice in all man’s endeavours, and that most people turn a blind eye.’
‘So you agree with slavery?’
‘I do not, Sir. I am wholly against it. And I might add that I intend to stop this commerce and settle down. For the past five years, I have been going to and from these mosquito-infested lands. I have been shot at and chased, seen my ship pillaged and three times almost shipwrecked, and I can count myself lucky, compared to many of my past acquaintances who are no longer of this world.’
Jacob was about to make a sardonic remark as to the wealth Darlington had acquired, albeit indirectly, on the backs of slaves. But this time, he held his tongue, for he suspected the young man was ready to disclose the real reason for their ja
unt around the island. Besides, he was right about how easily people turned a blind eye to recurrent atrocities. Did Jacob himself not turn a blind eye to galley slaves when he was a bourgeois in France not so long ago? Had he not financed an unspecified cargo lost at sea with his legal colleagues when in Montauban?
In a less controversial tone, Jacob said, ‘And what might you do, Sir?’
‘I plan to invest in my hometown and build a family before this life gets the better of me too.’
‘I was given to believe you were unattached,’ said Jacob, who had decided to make it easy for him.
‘Yes, Sir, that is so, but the time has come for me to take a wife.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Yes, Monsieur Delpech, which brings me round to why I have asked you to walk with me this morning. I would like to speak about your niece.'
During their evening meals, Marianne had continued to address Jacob as her uncle—she had become so used to doing it in Leogane that it had become an automatism, and it still brought her reassurance while upholding the boundaries of their relationship, for Jacob Delpech still cut an attractive figure.
So Jacob thought he had better set the young captain right. Casting his gaze away from the expanse of seagrass, he turned to Darlington and said, ‘Well, wait a moment. I must put you straight about one thing—’
‘With all due respect, Sir, please hear me out,’ said Darlington, afraid that Jacob was about to nip his prepared rhetoric in the bud, and his affections with it. ‘I know you intend to return to Europe. However, I have struck up a rare fondness for Miss Duvivier, and I believe it is, or at least I hope, it is reciprocated.’
‘What does she say?’
‘She has no plans for the future, which is why I would like to ask your consent to ask for her hand.’
‘Are you not precipitating things somewhat, Sir?’
‘If I wait, she may get used to the idea of going back to Europe.’
‘Have you spoken to her about your feelings?’
Voyage of Malice Page 13