The Dark Secret of Josephine

by Dennis Wheatley

  The great tragedy was, he added, that there a moderate Revolution could quite well have been effected without bloodshed. That it had been otherwise was due to the mulattoes. It was they who had first taken up arms, and had they not done so the negroes would never have followed their example.

  ‘I thought,’ remarked Roger, ‘that the mulattoes had played only for their own hand, because they realised that while liberal sentiment in pre-revolutionary France might gain for them equal rights with the whites, there could be no question of such rights being granted to the negroes.’

  ‘That is true, Monseigneur. And, of course, many of the wealthier mulattoes were slave owners themselves. But once a country becomes divided against itself in civil war, who can say where the conflagration will stop? It was seeing the white planters murdered and their houses plundered that inflamed the minds of the negroes. But for that, the windy orations of the Terrorists sent out from Paris would in most cases have fallen on deaf ears. The slaves did not then understand what freedom meant, or want it. They were in the main quite contented with their lot.’

  ‘You surprise me. Are you really convinced of that?’

  ‘Indeed I am. When in France you must have seen how the peasants toil in the fields from dawn to dusk, and turn their women too into beasts of burden. It is the same in Italy and most other European countries; yet these people are free. The negroes were no worse off while working here in the cane-brakes.’

  It was a new point of view to Roger. He remembered an occasion when he had breakfasted with Mr. Pitt. The Prime Minister’s great friend William Wilberforce had been present, and had talked at considerable length on the horrors of the slave trade. Now, he repeated some of the statements Wilberforce had made to Monsieur Ducas.

  The Frenchman shrugged. ‘I do not deny that the conditions under which fresh cargoes of slaves are brought over, from Africa are often appalling, and that many of them die from sickness or ill-treatment on the voyage. For that, Monsiegneur, I fear that your countrymen are mostly to blame, since “blackbirding”, as it is called, has long been one of the most profitable fields of British enterprise. I spoke only of the condition of the slaves either born here or once they have been purchased by our colonists.

  ‘I spoke, too, only of those who are put to the hardest manual labour. A high proportion of them were employed in shops, cafés, bars; as boatmen, coachmen, grooms, gardeners and house slaves. In most cases those so employed were much better off than people in similar occupations in Europe.’

  ‘On what do you base that contention, Monsieur?’

  ‘Because they had security. And that applied also to those who laboured in the fields. In Europe a workman is paid only as long as he is useful to his master. Should he fall sick he is dismissed and must live on charity. Should he be in no position to obtain it he starves. The situation of the slaves was very different. A good one cost up to 4,000 livres—in your money £160. They were therefore valuable properties. When they became ill their owners naturally took good care of them in order that they might soon become fit to work again. Moreover, food is very cheap here; so when they grew old and could work no more there was no question of turning them adrift, as happens in Europe. They were put on to light tasks suited to old people, then allowed to just sit about taking care of the piccaninnies, without being a burden to their relatives, until they died.’

  Again Roger recalled previous conversations he had had bearing on the subject. For many generations the peasantry in England had been much better off than those on the continent, but in recent years great numbers of them had been forced to leave the land. The enclosures of the commons had in many cases deprived them of the free grazing, free fuel and other amenities they had long enjoyed. Then the spinning jenny and other inventions had sadly depleted the amounts they could earn by their cottage industries; so by the thousands they had migrated to the towns.

  As long as they had remained cottagers, in bad times, or cases of personal misfortune, they had been able to turn to their landlords or the village parson for assistance; but once they became workers under the smoke clouds belched out from the chimneys of the new factories, no one any longer felt responsible for them as individuals.

  In association with Sir Richard Arkwright, the Duke of Bridgewater, Josiah Wedgwood and other such industrial pioneers, Georgina’s father, Colonel Thursby, had made his great fortune from the new canals and mechanical inventions. It was he who had told Roger that, too late in life, he now realised the misery that investors like himself were bringing to the people of the Midlands and the North. He had then described the desperate struggle for employment during periods when trade fell off; the starvation wages paid which necessitated women and children as well as men toiling in the mines for such long hours that only in summer did they see the light of day; the drunkenness in the filthy gin-shops on Saturday nights, which had become the only outlet for once decent men who when youths had taken their recreation in the gay gatherings at the hiring fairs, and such annual jollifications as beating the bounds, jumping St. John’s bonfires, welcoming Jack-in-the-Green, and dancing round the village Maypole.

  As Roger thought of these things he felt that Ducas had made a good case, and after a moment he said: ‘You paint a very different picture, Monsieur, from what I had imagined slavery to be. But now that things here have come to such a pass, it seems to me that there is little hope of pacifying the country unless it is agreed once and for all that the slaves should be given their freedom.’

  ‘But that is impossible!’ exclaimed the Frenchman. ‘Monseigneur cannot have realised that our slaves form a large part of our fortunes. To suggest that we should surrender our right to their labour is much the same as proposing that we should give away our houses or land. Besides, unless the planters got back the capital invested in their slaves few of them could finance the payment of wages to them for many months, until paid for the produce they had raised. No; all we French loyalists are agreed that the slaves must continue to be slaves, otherwise this island will fall into final destitution and ruin.’

  Roger thought that Ducas and his kind were displaying typical traits in the French mentality. They wanted the British to fight the negroes for them but keep the colony for France; and after the negroes had been defeated set the clock back four years by reinforcing slavery on those who had already freed themselves. He was tempted to remark that to cling to such ideas amounted to a refusal to face facts, but decided that to do so would not impinge on the Frenchman’s narrow vision, so instead he said thoughtfully:

  ‘All people of sensibility are now agreed that the slave trade is abhorrent; so perhaps a solution could be reached by first abolishing that, then entering into an understanding with the negroes here to the effect that all children born to them in future, instead of automatically also becoming slaves, should be free. Such a measure would protect the interests of present slave owners, yet lead in time to the complete abolition of slavery; so it is possible that if and when the negroes are defeated they might accept such terms.’

  ‘No, no!’ Ducas stubbornly shook his head. That would never do. In a generation or two there would be no slaves left. Without them we colonists would, become terribly impoverished. The piccaninnies are our slave labour of tomorrow. To give them freedom at their birth would be to rob our own children of their just inheritance.’

  There the conversation ended, as a messenger was announced from Colonel Seaton, who sent to say that a sloop of war would be sailing for Kingston next morning; so Roger finished his wine, excused himself and went upstairs to tell the others.

  At eleven o’clock next day the Colonel escorted them on board. The accommodation in the little ship was very limited, but everything possible had been done for the comfort of the ladies, and after their recent experiences they were happily conscious of the safety on which they could count in sailing under the White Ensign. As soon as they had taken leave of the Colonel the ship cast off, made two short tacks, then with a good breeze behind her set c
ourse for Jamaica.

  Early two mornings later they sighted Morant Point and a few hours afterwards came opposite Port Royal. They gazed at the now semi-derelict port with fascinated interest, as it had once been the most infamous town of the whole Spanish Main. In the days when Sir Henry Morgan had been Governor of Jamaica, and carried out his exploits against the Spaniards, freebooters of every nation had made it their favourite haunt after successful piracies. Thousands of pigs of silver and ingots of gold had changed hands there, jewelled crucifixes, necklaces of pearls and girdles flashing with inset diamonds, emeralds and rubies, had been bartered for a night’s lechery, and millions of pieces-of-eight, doubloons and móidores been squandered in its scores of gaming-hells and brothels. But, like another judgment on Sodom and Gomorrah, in 1692, when at the peak of its riotous prosperity, it had been almost totally destroyed by a terrible earthquake.

  Tacking again, the sloop nosed her way past the palisades up to Kingston harbour, and as soon as she docked the Lieutenant who commanded her sent a runner off to the Governor, Major General Williamson, to inform him about the passengers on board. Three-quarters of an hour later a young A.D.C. arrived with the General’s complimerits and a request that they would accompany him to Government House.

  There, the Governor and his wife received them most kindly, insisting that they must stay at the Residence until they had settled their plans. Wilson alone courteously declined, as he had old friends in Kingston with whom he wished to stay. Monsieur Pirouet, Dan, Tom and the two sailors who had survived from the Circe were placed in charge of the steward with instructions that they were to have their every need supplied; then the others were taken by their host and hostess up to comfortable rooms gay with flowered muslins, leading on to a wide veranda. It was thus, after the hazards and discomforts of an eight-week ocean voyage, followed by six weeks of acute fears, sickness and distress, that they were once more able to savour to the full the pleasures of gracious living.

  For some days they gave themselves up to it entirely while recuperating; lazing away the days in the richly furnished salons of the Residence or under the shade of palm trees on the lawns of its lovely garden. On two nights the Williamsons had already arranged dinner parties; on the others Roger and his host sat long over their port, as they had taken a great liking to one another.

  General Williamson was a man of imagination and vigour, and it was he who, unasked, had sent the first help to the colonists in Saint-Domingue. He had also, the preceding summer, inspired the brilliant dash by British troops on Port-au-Prince, the splendid capital which, with its fine squares and beautiful buildings, rivalled any provincial city in France, and so had saved it from a similar fate to that which at the hands of the rum-maddened negroes had overtaken Cap Français. From these long conversations with him, Roger eagerly absorbed much invaluable counsel as to how best to conduct affairs when he too took up his duties as the Governor of a West Indian island.

  By January the 8th, Roger’s twenty-seventh birthday, the girls were well on their way to getting back their looks and, except for Georgina who still grieved for Charles, had recovered their spirits. Meanwhile, General Williamson had arranged credit facilities for Roger, which enabled them all to order new wardrobes, and by the end of the week, when the clothes began to arrive, they felt the time had come to settle plans for the future.

  It was Fergusson who first actually raised the matter by saying that he could no longer afford to remain idle, and must set about trying to find a ship requiring a doctor, that would take him back to England. The capability, good sense and courage that he had displayed throughout had greatly impressed Roger; so he told the young doctor that, if he wished, he would find for him a much more remunerative post in Martinique, and Fergusson gladly accepted.

  Georgina then said that Jake and Kilick deserved better for the loyalty they had shown than to be allowed to return to their hard life at sea, and that she would willingly find them some congenial employment with cottages to live in on her estate at Stillwaters, her lovely home in Surrey. But both men proved overjoyed at the prospect of future security from hardship and want in her service.

  Later that day she told her friends that as she and Charles had talked so much of the happy time they hoped to have with his relations on the golden shores of St. Ann’s Bay, now that she had been robbed of him she could no longer support the thought of going there; so she intended to return to England as soon as possible.

  Amanda and Roger pressed her to spend the rest of the winter with them in Martinique, but she said that blue seas, palm trees and tropical sunshine were a constant reminder of her loss; so it was better that she should bury herself for a while among the friendly woods and green fields of England. When she consulted General Williamson about sailings he would not hear of her making the voyage in a trader, but said that a ship-of-the-line would be leaving within the next ten days, and that he would arrange with her Captain to carry home her ladyship and her servants.

  Roger had not forgotten Clarissa’s outbursts on the night she had lost herself in the forest on Tortuga; so next morning he took an opportunity to have a word with her alone. He told her that having thought matters over he had decided that it would be better for all concerned if she did not accompany Amanda and himself to Martinique, and that Georgina’s decision to return to England now offered an excellent opportunity for having her pleasantly chaperoned; so he wished her to make some suitable excuse to Amanda for going home.

  For a few minutes Clarissa panicked, pleading wildly to be allowed to stay with them, and urging that it would be cruel in the extreme for him to send her back to a regime of prayers and near poverty with her Aunt Jane. Then, as she saw his jaw set stubbornly, she calmed down and said in a deceptively meek Voice:

  ‘Knowing the circumstances from which she rescued me, I think Amanda will be much surprised. What excuse do you suggest that I should make for leaving her?’

  ‘You could say that all that you have suffered in the Indies has given you a nausea of them; and that like Georgina you’ll know no tranquillity of mind until you can get away from the sight of negroes and sun-scorched beaches.’

  Suddenly she laughed. ‘I could, Roger, but I won’t. If you are determined to get rid of me, you must think of some way yourself to make Amanda send me home.’

  For a moment he was silent, then his eyes began to twinkle. He knew that she had got him, and by just the sort of subtle trick that he admired. ‘You wicked baggage,’ he admonished her with a grin. ‘You know as well as I do that I would never disclose to Amanda my real reason for wishing you to leave us; and there is no other I can give her. So be it then. Let’s hope that I can find you a promising young soldier in Martinique, to give your mind a new occupation.’

  In consequence Clarissa, after all, accompanied Roger, Amanda, Dan and Fergusson, when they too left Jamaica in a warship. General Williamson had insisted that the least he could do for a fellow Governor was to send him on his way in a frigate, and as there was nothing to delay their departure, they sailed five days earlier than Georgina. After fond farewells, and most heartfelt thanks to the Williamsons for all their kindness, they were waved away from Kingston’s quay on January the 18th, and after a fair passage docked at Fort Royal, Martinique, early on the morning of the 24th.

  While the passengers were dressing the Captain sent ashore to inform the acting Governor of the new Governor’s arrival, so that an official welcome could be prepared for him. Soon the harbour front became crowded with coloured folk who heard the news and were eager to witness the proceedings. Next a regiment of British red-coats and a squadron of Hanoverian cavalry appeared to form a guard of honour. By then the Captain of the frigate had dressed ship, and had all his tars and marines on parade. Two A.D.C.’s came aboard, saluted Roger and were duly presented to the smiling ladies. A minute gun began to fire a salute from the fortress. The band struck up The British Grenadiers’. The senior A.D.C. murmured to Roger that the time had come for ‘His Excellency’ t
o land.

  Dressed in his best new suit, and fully conscious both that this was a great moment in his life and that he cut a fine figure, Roger walked with a firm step down the gangway. A warm smile lit his handsome face as he glanced from side to side at the people to whom by his Sovereign’s will his word would henceforth be law.

  Suddenly, the smile was wiped from his lips. A stalwart, square shouldered, red-faced man dressed in a Colonel’s uniform was advancing to meet him. Obviously this must be the acting Governor. It was also the man who as a boy had bullied Roger fiendishly at their public school; a pigheaded brute whom he hated and despised, named George Gunston. There was no one in the world whom he would not rather have had to collaborate with him in his new duties.

  16

  His Excellency the Governor

  With every eye upon them there was no escape from shaking hands. As they did so Gunston gave a slightly derisive smile and murmured: ‘At your service, Mr. Brook. You will find a pretty kettle of fish here; but as your talents are evidently considered superior to my own I wish you joy in handling it.’

  Gunston had once wooed Amanda so, although Roger had won her, she still regarded the freckled, red-headed soldier as an old friend, and when the ladies came down the gangway she exclaimed:

  ‘Why George! How lovely to find you here.’

  ‘The pleasure is all mine, M’am,’ he replied with a grin. ‘This is the most God-forsaken station I’ve ever been on so the society of some English ladies will prove a rare blessing.’

  As he spoke his eyes switched to Clarissa, taking in her young loveliness with evident appreciation, and Amanda presented him to her.

  Roger next inspected the guard of honour, then the party moved off to a row of open carriages that had been drawn up behind the troops. According to protocol Roger and Gunston got into the first, while Amanda and Clarissa were escorted to the second by the two A.D.C.’s. The band struck up again and they drove off.