Strachan grimaced and thrust the pistol behind his belt. ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.’
Killigrew turned to Boulton and the sailmaker. ‘Stay away from the pivot guns – they’ll be watching you. But if you hear shooting or it looks like we’re in any kind of trouble, try to sink the small boats. The important thing is to keep the São João here until we’re all aboard her – including the recaptives. Without the small boats they’re as helpless as we are, until the wind picks up.’
‘Good luck, sir.’
‘Thank you. And you.’
Killigrew and Ågård shinned down a rope into the jolly boat. Strachan followed them gingerly, lost his grip when he was only a few feet from the boat and sprawled on the bottom boards. Killigrew helped him up, and then Dando and O’Connor began to row them across to the São João. Most of the São João’s crew were in the small boats riding off the clipper’s bows. Strachan wondered when they would return to the ship so that they could start transhipping the slaves; it could not be long before the Maria Magdalena foundered. Still, the more slavers there were in the small boats the fewer there would be on the São João’s deck for them to deal with.
The jolly boat bumped gently against the clipper’s side and a rope ladder was tossed down for them to climb up. Two of the slavers climbed down first to hold the rope ladder for the others as they climbed up. They stayed in the jolly boat after Strachan had climbed up on deck after Killigrew, Ågård, Dando and O’Connor and began to row it back to the Maria Magdalena.
Someone on deck said something in Portuguese to Ågård. Killigrew turned and saw a middle-aged man with silver hair and a tanned face wearing tolerably good clothes. He guessed this would be the master of the São João.
‘Hey, Barroso!’ Ågård called to Killigrew in an execrable attempt at an American accent. ‘Come over heah and translate whut the hell this dude’s saying. Whut else do I pay you fuh, Gawdamnit!’
Killigrew turned smoothly away from the gunwale to obey, but the silver-haired man held up a hand. ‘You only speak English, Captain?’ he asked Ågård.
‘The only language Ah know is American, suh.’
‘Ah, an American. I was wondering what that accent was supposed to be. Of course – an American captain would help to convince any ships of the Royal Navy that tried to stop you that you are an American ship. Very clever. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Raimundo da Silva, master of the São João, out of Pernambuco.’ He held out his hand delicately.
Ågård shook it a lot less delicately. ‘Abram Tyler, at your service. And this heah’s mah first mate and translator, Senhor Ramón Barroso, and mah ship’s doctor, Tex Polk.’
‘Er… howdy,’ said Strachan.
‘Well, gentlemen, shall we retire out of this fatiguing sun into my day room and seal our bargain with a drink while my men tranship your slaves – or perhaps I should say our slaves – to my ship?’ He gestured to where the slaves were being brought up on to the deck of the Maria Magdalena. Killigrew noticed that the use of whips was much in evidence and he stifled a wince. ‘I have an excellent bottle of sherry—’
‘Let’s stay out here, shall we?’ suggested Killigrew.
‘You do not trust me?’ Da Silva smiled. ‘That is very wise. I respect a cautious man…’
A commotion broke out on board the Maria Magdalena. Some of the slaves, outraged at having their hopes of freedom dashed by their apparent transfer to another slaver, started to struggle. A couple of shots rang out, and two young recaptives fell to the deck.
‘Have your men take care, Senhor da Silva,’ warned Killigrew. ‘That’s valuable merchandise.’
‘So you do not have your cargo broken to the lash yet, eh? Personally, I always find a couple of dead niggers a most excellent investment. It encourages the remainder to be still for the rest of the passage. But tell me, Senhor Barroso, I always thought my old friend Capitão Videira was master of the Maria Magdalena.’
‘Capitão Videira fell ill,’ Killigrew explained smoothly. ‘The owners employed me to stand in for him on this voyage.’
Da Silva turned to his first mate, a burly man with black curly hair and a greasy, matted beard. ‘You see, Figueroa? Did I not tell you it could not be Videira you saw led in chains from the deck of that British paddle-sloop we saw in Freetown two days ago?’
Killigrew realised the game was up.
Chapter 4
Land Sharks
Killigrew drew his pepperbox from its holster and touched da Silva beneath the jaw with the muzzles. In the same instant he felt the cold touch of a pistol muzzle behind his ear.
‘I believe this is what is known as an impasse,’ da Silva said coolly. ‘You shoot me, and Figueroa shoots you.’
‘I think not,’ Strachan said somewhere behind Figueroa, and Killigrew felt the gun taken away from his ear. Ågård, Dando and O’Connor also drew their pistols and covered the slavers close by.
Da Silva’s face turned grey. ‘Royal Navy?’ he spat.
‘In the best traditions of the service,’ agreed Killigrew.
With da Silva and his first mate at pistol point, they waited until all the recaptives and the rest of the prize crew had been transhipped from the Maria Magdalena to the São João, only moments before the former floundered and keeled over, turning turtle.
As the slavers were herded down to the slave deck, Killigrew marched da Silva back into the day room. The ship’s papers were made out in French, Spanish, Portuguese, Danish and English – both British and United States. Killigrew did not doubt there was a different flag in the bow locker for each of the different nationalities represented amongst the forged papers. There was also a cargo manifest: even now the slavers still carried out their trade by the book, as if it were all still perfectly legal and above board.
He cast his eyes over the manifest. The cargo consisted of aguardiente, copper wire, cotton goods, gunpowder, iron pots, looking glasses, muskets, rum and tobacco; all of them typical goods of exchange for the slave trade. According to the owner’s instructions they were supposed to take them to the Owodunni Barracoon to exchange them for a cargo of slaves to be transported to Bahia.
‘Where’s the Owodunni Barracoon?’ Killigrew asked da Silva.
‘I have never heard of it.’
‘Really? You were supposed to be sailing there.’
Da Silva took out a cigar and struck a match to light it. Before he could apply the flame to the cigar’s end, Killigrew had snatched the cigar from his mouth, crushed it in his hand and tossed it out through the window.
‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ da Silva said with an infuriating mildness. ‘That really was a waste of a fine Havana cigar. I suppose you think you are very clever, eh, young man?’
‘Clever enough to defeat you, if that counts for anything,’ retorted Killigrew.
Da Silva chuckled. ‘Defeat me?’ He shook his head. ‘Oh, no, my friend. Perhaps you have won this battle, but you can never win the war. You know as well as I do that once we get to Freetown you will have to let us go. You have no power over foreign nationals. Why you persist in stopping our ships is a mystery to me.’
‘Because it’s our duty?’ suggested Killigrew. ‘Both as officers of the Royal Navy and as decent human beings.’
‘Humanity is a relative concept, my young friend.’ Da Silva crossed to the open door and gestured at the recaptives being brought back on board the São João’s deck from the boats. ‘To you these cattle are human beings. To me they are no more than apes. Apes that can be trained to take their rightful place in the service of a higher form of life.’
‘That counts you out, then. Compared to you, even a slug is a higher form of life.’
Da Silva was unperturbed. ‘You English make me laugh. Always so arrogant, so convinced that you are in the right. What gives you the prerogative to interfere in the trade of other nations, to act as the self-appointed watchmen of the seas?’
‘What gives you the right to trade in human fl
esh?’
Da Silva sighed mockingly. ‘Such passion and idealism in one so young. One day, when you are my age perhaps, you will come to understand that nothing in life is as clear cut as you seem to think it is…’
‘Oh, I think that when it comes to issues you’ll find the inhumanity of the slave trade is as clear cut as they come.’
‘Perhaps. Perhaps you are right. But being right makes no difference. You know what is important?’ He reached into his pocket.
Killigrew put a hand on the grip of his pepperbox. Da Silva smiled, and slowly drew out a fistful of gold coins. ‘This. This is what is truly important. This is why you will never end the slave trade. Because men will always love this more than they love justice. You could take this – share it with your men, if it makes you feel better – and let us go.’
Killigrew stared at the coins as they glittered in the sunlight. With the money that da Silva had in the palm of his hand, Killigrew could buy himself out of the navy and set himself up for life in a comfortable town house in London. He licked his lips, and then took the money from the slaver’s hand.
The smile that started to spread across da Silva’s face froze as Killigrew tossed the money out of the window. ‘You shouldn’t judge other people by your own standards, da Silva.’
‘You’re a fool. You should have taken the money. I will still be free within days of our landing at Freetown.’
Da Silva’s self-assured smugness was so irritating that Killigrew struggled to suppress the urge to smash his face in. ‘We’ll see,’ he said tightly.
* * *
‘It is the ruling of this court that since the Maria Magdalena and the São João were separate ships with separate owners, the two cases must be dealt with separately.’ Of the three admirals who sat on the panel of the court of mixed commissions, it was the Dutch one – the neutral one, the others being British and Portuguese – who read out the summation and verdict. He at least had the decency to look regretful at the verdict that he and his colleagues had reached.
The courthouse in Freetown was a dry, dusty place with pretensions to civilisation. It was a long way from civilisation, but it was even further from the blood-soaked deck of a slaver.
‘Firstly, the Maria Magdalena. The captain of the arresting vessel, Commander Standish of Her Majesty’s paddle-sloop Tisiphone, has presented no conclusive evidence that the crew of the Maria Magdalena were at any time engaged in the trading of slaves…’
Killigrew kept his face impassive, merely closing his eyes for a moment. He refused to give da Silva and Videira the satisfaction of seeing that to him the verdict was like a dagger being twisted in his guts. But the Tisiphone’s other mate, Eustace Tremaine, leaped to his feet. ‘No evidence!’ he protested. ‘What about the slaves, damn it?’
‘Sit down, young man, or I’ll have you in contempt of court,’ snarled the British admiral, a fat, red-faced, gouty old man.
‘I am in contempt of a court which takes the word of a gang of murderous slavers over and above that of four officers of the Royal Navy!’
The British admiral banged his gavel. ‘Sit down! I shall have order in this court! You will conduct yourself with the decorum becoming an officer of the Royal Navy.’
Killigrew reached up and took his friend by the arm, gently pulling him back into his seat.
The Dutch admiral continued. ‘Since there is no concrete evidence to convict the crew of the Maria Magdalena, it is the verdict of this court that Captain Videira and his men are to be released at once. As to Captain da Silva and his crew, we likewise find that since the only evidence that he and his men were engaged in the slave trade other than the slaves which Mate Killigrew himself shipped aboard from the Maria Magdalena—’
Tremaine banged a fist against the table. ‘But this is farcical! You can’t deny the existence of those slaves in one case, and then use them as evidence in another! If you’d only get some of them in here to testify—’
The British admiral banged his gavel again. ‘Silence! If you had been here earlier, young man, you would understand that the testimony of natives is inadmissible evidence. As indeed were the papers which Mate Killigrew claims to have found on board the São João, papers which Captain da Silva claims were planted in his cabin by the aforementioned Mate Killigrew. The court therefore finds the captain and crew of the São João innocent. They are to be released at once, and the Portuguese vessel São João to be surrendered back to them by the Royal Navy at the earliest convenience.’
Videira and da Silva shook one another’s hands, and then the hands of their plump and over-paid lawyers. Videira’s lawyer rose to his feet. ‘Your lordships, I would like the record to state that not only will my client be suing Mate Killigrew for the loss of the Maria Magdalena, but he will also be pressing the families of the honest mariners so callously slain by Mr Killigrew to sue him for excessive brutality in the execution of his duties.’
At the back of the court, the seamen of the Tisiphone present groaned.
‘That is a private matter between yourself, the families of the dead seamen, and Mate Killigrew,’ the Dutch admiral remarked drily. ‘It is no concern of this court. We will now adjourn.’
Killigrew went outside and leaned back against the wall of the courthouse. He looked at his hand and saw that it was shaking. He clenched it into a fist, and then lit a cheroot to calm his nerves.
Tremaine followed him out. The same age as one another, Killigrew and Tremaine were good friends. They both resided in the gun room, but since they were in opposite watches they rarely saw one another, like the eponymous heroes of Mr Morton’s new farce, Box and Cox. They had grown up together in Falmouth and shared the same dream of becoming captains in the Royal Navy like their fathers. But when they had reached the age of twelve their ways had parted, Tremaine attending the Royal Naval College at Portsmouth while Killigrew had gone straight to sea as a first class volunteer.
There was a self-mocking rivalry between the two of them – college graduates were often derided for their more theoretical approach to seamanship – and they played up to it, but each was secretly jealous of the other. Tremaine envied the kudos Killigrew enjoyed amongst his superiors for being an officer raised in the old tradition of hands-on experience; while Killigrew knew that times were changing and that one day the college graduates would run the navy. Already the navy was becoming more and more scientific. Steamships might lack the romance of sail, but there could be no doubt that one day they would supplant them altogether.
‘Damn it, what a travesty!’ huffed Tremaine, outwardly more upset by the verdict than his friend. ‘That wasn’t justice, that was a farce!’
Killigrew shook his head. ‘It’s not a question of justice, it’s a question of law. The two are rarely the same thing. Forget it, ’Stace. It’s not important. What’s important is that most of the negroes we found on board the Maria Magdalena are saved from a life of slavery. That’s what counts.’
‘Yes, but you’d think you’d get some gratitude out of it, instead of being treated as though you’re the criminal.’
Strachan came out next. ‘Damnably sorry, Killigrew. Outrageous verdict. Listen, about that private action Videira’s lawyer was talking about. My Uncle Andrew is a QC, I’m sure I could persuade him to accept your case.’
‘Thank you, Mr Strachan. I may just take you up on that offer—’
Standish steamed out of the court, red in the face. Seeing Killigrew, he rounded on him angrily. ‘Well, I hope you’re satisfied, young man. One midshipman and six of my best hands killed; a slaver I went to a considerable amount of trouble to catch only for you to sink it, cheating me and the rest of the crew of our share of prize money; and for what? So I could stand up in that court and be made a fool of, a laughing stock! All I can say is, I hope Videira’s land-shark does bring that personal action against you. I won’t defend you, for one. Perhaps it will teach you not to be so damned zealous in future.’ As Standish had repeatedly informed Killigrew, if there was
one thing he could not abide it was a zealous officer. ‘I mean, what in the name of all that’s holy did you think you were playing at?’
‘My duty, sir?’
‘None of your jaw now, laddie! I shan’t have it, d’ye hear? I shan’t! You’re a disgrace, Killigrew! A damned disgrace! Carrying on like some kind of latter-day buccaneer. Well, let me tell you there’s no place for buccaneers like you in today’s Royal Navy. If you’d followed proper naval procedure and brought the Maria Magdalena straight back here, instead of rushing off trying to catch another slaver, then Parsons and the others might still be alive…’
As much as Killigrew wanted to smash Standish’s face in, there was part of him which could not help wondering if the commander was right about him being responsible for the death of the seven men who had been under his command as part of the Maria Magdalena’s prize crew.
The two slaver captains emerged from the court with their lawyers, laughing and joking. Seeing the four naval officers, they smirked. ‘See you in the civil courts, Mr Killigrew,’ called Videira.
‘How are those high-minded ideals of yours now, Mr Killigrew?’ asked da Silva. ‘A little dented, perhaps?’
Killigrew’s temper finally snapped. He lunged for da Silva’s throat, but Strachan and Tremaine both caught him and hauled him back before he reached the slaver. ‘Easy, Killigrew, easy,’ said Strachan.
‘I’m not finished with you,’ Killigrew snarled at them. ‘I’m coming after you, and all your kind.’
‘I hope that’s not a threat, Mr Killigrew,’ said da Silva’s lawyer. ‘The courts here take a very dim view of threatening language.’
‘There’ll be a reckoning yet.’
Da Silva smiled. ‘I shall await that day with interest.’
Killigrew watched the two lawyers hurry their clients on into the hustle and bustle of the streets of Freetown, and sighed. He wished he could learn to control his temper, widely supposed to be a legacy from his Greek mother. She had been a fighter in the Greek War of Independence, and quite a firebrand by all accounts. That had been where she had met his father, of course. Captain John Killigrew had served as an officer in the Royal Navy during the war against Napoleon and afterwards became a sailor of fortune, serving with his old patron Admiral Lord Cochrane in the Chilean, Brazilian and Greek navies in turn.
Killigrew of the Royal Navy Page 7