Voyage of Malice

by Paul C R Monk

  Using his hands and key words, he explained he would speak to the commander without delay. There was no reason why they should not be released and given refreshment. He would tell the commander that in return, the buccaneers could bury their dead in a proper grave. Brook would not care. But Jacob believed de Graaf to be of Christian principles even if he sinned like a heathen. However, the Dutchman would need reassurance that the bodies would not be dug up and fed to the crocodiles as soon as the buccaneers had departed.

  ‘You must talk to Father Del Lome,’ said the girl in her native tongue. ‘He is strict about religion, but if he gives you his word, he will keep it. You must tell him about our agreement.’

  *

  Delpech headed out immediately to the warehouses down by the riverside. That was where he would find the padre. But on the way, he was hailed by a sailor whose mate had shot himself in the foot. Jacob was obliged to lead the man back to the doctor’s house, where Ana was hiding upstairs. At first, she was alarmed, wondered where she could run. But no one climbed the stairs. She quickly understood that the men had come to be treated.

  Jacob extracted the lead shot, cleaned and bound the wound, and sent the man hopping with his partner. As he headed out again, he saw the girl on the stairs. ‘Please hurry,’ she implored.

  He passed by parties of buccaneers escorting townsmen to their stash, and groups of five or six taking to the saddle on Spanish mounts, to venture out onto the versant and plunder farmsteads.

  By the time he reached the warehouse built along the Bayamo River, it was already sweltering. The padre, a man in his sixties, was manifestly in no hurry to meet his maker; he was relieved to be offered a chance to step out of the inferno.

  As the priest spoke only Spanish and Latin, the councillor who had escaped Brook’s sacrificial torture offered to translate into French. Jacob explained that he was an indentured doctor who wanted to help the people who were suffering in the church. The padre told Jacob where they buried non-Catholics, and agreed that, if Jacob could save the women and children from further suffering, he would leave the dead rovers in their resting place.

  The councillor took the opportunity to give Jacob his thanks for his intervention on the square, and now for saving those in the church where his own wife, mother, and son were also held. He said that he was aware that the doctor had nothing to do with these villains other than being indentured to them.

  ‘I promise to give a good account of you, Doctor,’ he said.

  This left Jacob perplexed. And as he walked briskly back through the elegant streets lined with whitewashed houses, he wondered if the man really thought the town would be rescued by his countrymen. It hardly seemed likely, did it?

  *

  Within a half an hour, Jacob was standing in the governor’s library. The windows were flung open; the shutters were half-closed.

  Valuables and coin unearthed from gardens, wells, cellars, and cisterns had been trickling into the library all morning. The three captains were lounging on the comfortable seating, drinking and smoking while crewmates sorted the piles of gems, silver, and gold into casks for easy transport.

  ‘You have no experience of campaigns, Monsieur Delpech,’ said the Dutchman. ‘It was in fact on my command that they be locked up. We cannot let any women or children roam about freely.’

  ‘But, Sir, I beg you. The most vulnerable among them will certainly die of suffocation or thirst.’

  ‘They’re locked up for a reason, Doctor,’ said Captain Brook. Jacob turned to face his captain lounging with a bottle in one hand and one leg swung over the velvet arm of his chair. ‘And that reason be their own safety!’

  De Graaf said: ‘These men are predators. Many of them have wild imaginations and untamed curiosity.’

  ‘Some o’ these boys’ll try anything once!’ said Brook.

  Outside, horses were drawing up in front of the building. Their snorting could be heard through the shutters. Brook got up, and looking through the shutter, he said, ‘Have you ever seen a dog shag an old nag?’

  ‘God forbid, I have not, Sir,’ said Jacob.

  ‘I have,’ said Brook. ‘On campaign, anything goes. That’s why we lock ’em up!’

  ‘They will suffocate . . .’

  There came a bustling and footsteps in the entrance hall. Then in walked five buccaneers with a black slave.

  One of them said, ‘Picked him up three miles east.’

  ‘De donde vienes?’ said de Graaf.

  ‘Santiago, Señor.’

  The buccaneer then handed the Dutchman a piece of paper on which was written a message to the mayor of Bayamo. De Graaf translated the message out loud.

  ‘Dear Mayor,’ began de Graaf, who then flicked up his eyes to meet those of Captain Brook. The latter gave an innocent shrug of the shoulders. De Graaf continued. ‘Dear Mayor Guiseppi Alonzo de la Firma and the people of Bayamo. The fleet is on its way to Manzanillo bay. They come with their mounts, so relief will be with you within four days of sending this message. Instructions are to delay payments, or only pay small amounts, to delay the raiders as much as you can. Signed, the governor of Santiago.’

  ‘When was it sent?’ said Cox.

  ‘The fifteenth of the eighth month of 1688,’ read de Graaf.

  ‘Two days ago,’ said Brook.

  Jacob realised now what the Spaniard in the warehouse meant about giving him a good account. Somehow, perhaps from a different messenger, he had been receiving news. But Jacob said nothing, for there was nothing to gain from another dead Spaniard and a fatherless child. And in some respects, the Spanish fleet being on their way gave Delpech some cause for relief. Provided the captains withdrew, it meant the horrors he had witnessed would cease. Wouldn’t they?

  ‘What’s the plan?’ said Brook.

  ‘Assemble the men on the plaza.’

  ‘What about the people in the church?’ said Jacob, seizing the space Brook left for thought.

  ‘Give them scraps from the boucan and water from the well. No fresh cuts; we’ll need all the provisions we can get for ourselves.’ He turned to a crewmate and said, ‘Trev, go with the doctor, fetch Rob and Two-Fingers, and smash the church windows . . . from the inside.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Jacob, who knew this was as good a compromise as he would get.

  ‘Doctor,’ said Captain Brook. Delpech turned to face him. ‘Remember to bring the medicines, right?’

  Jacob knew what he meant and nodded his understanding. He then left quickly to draw pails of water from the well and fill baskets with cooked leftovers from the boucan.

  *

  Over two hundred buccaneers assembled on the main square. Brook spoke about the intercepted message; then de Graaf stepped forward. In a raised voice and a measured, slightly ironic tone, he said, ‘Lads, I see no point wasting lives and plunder on a confrontation that would serve no purpose, other than the pleasure of killing Spanish soldiers!’ There was a loud roar of laughter, mingled with ayes all round.

  Along with a good stack of booty, de Graaf had attained his objective of taking the inland township, which would send a warning to the Spanish that he could strike anywhere. They would from now on think twice before raiding the west coast of Saint-Domingue, which the French Dutchman was commissioned to protect. Brook, Cox, and their men had also made a nice fortune for services rendered while thrillingly navigating close to death, sometimes too close. So it was unanimously voted to get out while the going was still good.

  De Graaf then sent five horsemen to give notice to the mariners back at Manzanillo Bay, to sail the ship westward along the coast to where the Joseph and the Fortuna lay anchored at the cay. The rest of the raiders would travel down the Cauto River, which flowed into the bay a good twenty miles up from Manzanillo harbour. From there, they would continue by boat along the coastal shoals, under the cover of night.

  Two groups of six townsmen were “volunteered” from the warehouses for the employ of the buccaneers. Under escort, these men were loa
ded into carts and put to the task of removing the barricades along the road to the embarcadero. And they did not dally.

  *

  Later that afternoon, de Graaf joined Jacob, who stood with his Bible over the dead sailors. They lay side by side in hessian sacks at the bottom of a large trench. Ducamp had shown up along with five score of maritime desperados.

  Captain Brook had stayed in the library with the loot. He never went near a graveyard if he could help it, preferring burials at sea. Seeing his crewmates cramped six feet under only put him in the doldrums and made him feel bitter with thoughts that his life was destined to be short, riddled as he was with the pox. He would rather spend his time watching mulatto Joe dress in silk and pearls. Captain Cox had chosen to remain in the playroom, as he liked to call it, for a last fling with his favourite female company.

  As agreed with the padre, the short ceremony took place on the burial ground reserved for non-Catholics. The factions of Christianity seemed more absurd to Jacob now than ever. Their rules seemed only to obscure the essence of religion, namely, belief in God and one’s desire to be near Him by following the teachings of Jesus.

  He had witnessed for himself how manmade religious rules only gave perfidious men a pretext to commit wrongness to the extreme, in the same way that absence of morality led men to commit unimaginable acts of cruelty.

  Standing at the head of the pit, he read a passage from Matthew chapter V, which he had translated into English. He then turned his head to encompass the silent horde of rovers huddled around the trench from left to right. In a loud and resolute voice, he said, ‘To live without God is to live without hope. And life without hope has no value. God brings meaning and morality to our lives. God. Is. Hope. Amen.’

  He said it, of course, not for the dead, but for the sake of the living, in the hope that some of them would find the righteous path. His eyes settled for an instant on Ducamp to his right.

  ‘Amen,’ mumbled the horde of wayward sailors.

  The slight breeze rose up from the north. The burial ground was suddenly polluted with the nauseating stench of putrid corpses. It came as a reminder of the scores of Spanish soldiers still strewn over the field where death had been sown.

  *

  The rest of the afternoon and the early evening were mostly spent carting provisions and saleable barrels of tobacco and cocoa to the embarcadero. From there, the cargo was loaded onto the buccaneers’ boats, as well as pirogues and canoes that belonged to Bayamo boatmen, which increased cargo and seating capacity.

  De Graaf negotiated with the councillors, who provided thirty “volunteers” to slaughter animals on the square and salt the meat which was then loaded for transport. It was at least an escape from the stifling warehouse, and the vecinos carried out the butchery diligently and swiftly to be rid of their assailants by nightfall. If the rescue fleet commander accused them of not delaying the buccaneers sufficiently, they had the perfect scapegoat. They would put the blame on Señor Guiseppi Alonzo de la Firma, their proud and now faceless alcalde, whose morbid silhouette seemed to be bearing reproachfully down at them from his wheel. The governor of Cuba could hardly hang him for failing in his duty now, could he? Pity he had to die so atrociously, though, but then again, everyone had to die sometime, and anyway, he was old, and inflexible, and a tyrant. At least this way, his life was given meaning, and he would be remembered as a hero, instead of as an ignorant town official who had stupidly sent a battalion of cadets to their deaths. The doctor, on the other hand, was a tragic loss. He had not long since been coaxed to Bayamo from Havana to look after the townsfolk; the move had not provided him with the safe living they had promised. Nothing could be promised in this world where one day, the spectacles of Paradise filled you with wonder, and the next, a hurricane or a band of raiders could come and devastate your entire existence.

  Jacob meanwhile busied himself by replenishing San Salvador church with water and what food he could salvage from the boucan. Now, when the rovers opened the door for him to deposit his pails and extra goblets, instead of hundreds of staring, frightened, wary faces, three ringless ladies stepped forward in dignified gratitude and took charge of the distribution. One of them was the doctor’s wife, to whom Jacob had given a note from Ana on his first visit, to reassure them that the water was drinkable and the food edible, that they were not poisoned.

  On leaving them for the last time, he told them he would pray to God to protect and deliver them. ‘Adios, y vaya con Dios,’ he said.

  The whitewashed buildings were now bathed in the orange glow of evening as he hurried back to the house where Ana was still hiding. The streets had taken on a frenetic air in the end-of-day gloom as beasts of burden, horses, and carts stole away with the last of the barrels. Jacob guessed the urgency was enhanced by the fact that no sailor wanted to be the last to see the ghostly chaos left in the wake of their rampage, or hear the spirits of the dead cadets as night encroached.

  He passed the mayor’s residence, where de Graaf, Brook, and Cox were standing outside, in discussion over the barrels of loot to be loaded for transport.

  He crossed the plaza amid empty hogsheads, bottles, jugs, and piles of offal. The glowing embers under the boucan, the torches planted to give light, and the mass slaughter of animals, lent it a hellish hue.

  The morning would bring to the townsfolk the terrible realisation of what had hit them, thought Jacob. They would have to come to terms with the weekend of rape, “consented” intercourse, killings, desolation, and stolen life savings and harvests. Jacob felt debased and ashamed to be part of it, despite his efforts to alleviate some of the horror. How could he dishonour himself further by taking a share of the spoils? It was not like stealing from the Spanish silver fleet at all, which transported treasures pillaged from the natives of these lands. This was an ordinary township with ordinary civilians who had no quarrel with the commanders of war.

  A short while later, he pushed the rear door of the doctor’s house and gave five syncopated knocks on the study table to let Ana upstairs know it was him. He went to the surgery room and hurriedly took the vials he needed for Brook and his crew. Then he went back to the study and sat on the sofa where he had slept—he had been unable to snatch any sleep in someone’s bedroom. He picked up the wooden cross he had placed on a low table. He glanced over the six acorns he had stood in a line on a strip of wool.

  The cross came from his own study, plundered and ransacked during the dragonnades. The acorns, chosen for their size and painted with faces, were sent to him from his son, Paul, when he was in prison in France. These were the objects of his cocoon of protection that gave him a reason each day to go on. They represented heaven and earth, and all he ever wanted. And they brought him comfort when God seemed to turn silent.

  He placed the cross in his leather bag, even though, with deep regret, he realised that his prayer said to the desperados at the end of the burial had already been forgotten. He began putting the acorns safely in a writing case which he first packed with the wool.

  ‘Your family?’ said Ana, who now stood before him. He had not heard her enter. Now that she was in a more conservative dress, he could tell she must be no more than fourteen, barely older than his eldest daughter, Lizzie. Yet she was sharper than most adults.

  ‘Yes,’ he said solemnly. ‘Me, my wife, my daughter Elizabeth, my son, Paul, this one’s Louise who is with our Lord and her sister Anne, and this one’s the newest member of the family. I hope to see them all again.’

  ‘I hope you do too.’

  ‘All is not so well in France, my homeland.’

  ‘My father used to say the same about Spain. That is why he came here.’

  ‘Ana, I have had to take some of the medicine from your father’s cabinet,’ he continued, using his hands to give shape to his meaning. ‘I am sorry, but I cannot do otherwise if I want to see my family again. You understand? Truly, I am sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. It is nothing.’

  ‘Of course,’
he said, realising the insignificance of the act compared to the horror she had endured.

  ‘My father would have gladly let you have the medicine you need,’ she asserted slowly so that he could understand, which took Jacob by surprise. ‘You gave me hope and morality when in my despair I was lacking. You could have taken what I had left, but you did not. My father would have liked you for that, and for what you have done to save the people in the church from thirst and the calenture.’

  Jacob got to his feet. He took both her hands. He said, ‘Keep your faith, Ana, and others will have faith in you. Take this as a reminder to keep your hope, and others will hope for you.’ He placed the acorn that represented his precious Lulu in her hand. ‘Small acorns grow into great trees, just like a tiny spark can light a beacon. I will pray that you become a tree of wisdom and a beacon of hope despite these atrocities, Ana. Your family will need you.’

  Half an hour later, Delpech was riding on one of the last carts out. His heart sank as he left the devastated township and followed the dark road to the embarcadero, accompanied by the evening song of birds, the chirping of insects, and the howling of hounds.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  De Graaf had invited Jacob to sit beside him in his boat.

  ‘I regret you had to bear witness to the horrors of war, Monsieur Delpech,’ said the Dutchman in a low voice, while stretching out his long legs as best he could. ‘But you must realise, it is an eye for an eye in this world. And this campaign was in response to far greater atrocities committed against our people.’

  ‘A Christian would turn the other cheek, Captain de Graaf,’ said Jacob, lighting his pipe.

  The Dutchman let out an indulgent chuckle; then he said as if in banter, ‘Have you ever seen a woman impaled? Or men burnt alive at the stake for heresy? Have you ever seen children picked up by the ankles and thrashed against the wall until their brains spilt out? Have you ever seen a man slowly sawn from his genitals upward? This is what they do.’