Killigrew of the Royal Navy

by Jonathan Lunn

  ‘And all I got for Christmas was a cravat,’ sighed Killigrew.

  ‘Assata, take Miss Chance here up to the Chinese room. See that she is given a chance to wash and change for dinner. There are plenty of clean clothes hanging in the closet, Miss Chance. You should be able to find something to fit you.’

  Madison and Coffin watched open-mouthed as Assata escorted Miss Chance up the grandiose staircase. ‘Tell me, Salazar,’ Coffin asked with a leer, ‘is guarding the only thing she does with your body?’

  Salazar smiled thinly, unimpressed by Coffin’s rough manners. ‘Believe me, Mr Coffin, it would be a foolish man who tried anything untoward with Assata. When one has seen a woman crack a man’s ribcage between her thighs, one becomes very reluctant to place oneself in that perilous position.’

  Henriques escorted Madison, Coffin and Killigrew upstairs and showed them each into a room. The rooms were large and every bit as richly appointed as the rest of the house, with grand four-poster beds and marble washstands in a corner. Presently Henriques returned with hot water and towels. It was the first chance Killigrew had had to wash properly in weeks, and he made the most of it, washing the salt out of his hair and scrubbing himself from head to toe. There was a complete supply of toiletries on the shelf above the washstand: macassar oil, pomade, eau-de-cologne. By the time he had finished, Henriques returned with underclothes, a clean shirt and a pair of white pantaloons. Killigrew dressed and went outside where he encountered Miss Chance emerging from another room, followed by Assata.

  ‘You look ravishing, Miss Chance, if I may be so bold,’ said Killigrew. It was true enough. She wore a pale-blue evening gown of light silk which swished and rustled with each step she took.

  ‘I only wish you were the only one in this place with the word “ravishing” on his mind, Mr Killigrew,’ she responded. ‘There are hundreds of dresses in that closet, some of them the very latest fashions from Paris. Why do I get the feeling I’m not the first woman to visit this place? It gives me a creepy feeling.’

  ‘I think it’s rather charming myself,’ said Killigrew, admiring the interior decoration. ‘I’ll say one thing for Salazar, his taste is impeccable – barring the dead animal heads on the wall downstairs, of course.’

  ‘I suppose you’d like to live like this.’

  ‘Who wouldn’t? Although I think I’d grow tired of it after a while. My own tastes have always run to colonial simplicity.’

  ‘After a week on that hell-hole you call a ship, this is all too good to be true.’

  ‘I wouldn’t disagree with you there.’ He wanted to say more, but suspecting that Assata knew more English than she let on he thought it wisest not to. ‘Shall we go downstairs?’

  Madison, Coffin and Salazar were already waiting for them with a fourth gentleman, a huge African dressed in a curious combination of clothing: a spotless red tunic with enough gold braid on it to suggest it had once been the property of a brigadier-general if it had not been so obviously first-hand, white breeches, and sandals, the whole topped off with a leopard skin, the head resting on top of the man’s shaven scalp, giving an even greater impression of height to his six and three-quarter feet. He was perfectly proportioned too: broad-shouldered and muscular of build, like an ebony sculpture of a Greek athlete.

  The African held the rifled musket Coffin had brought from the ship and was turning it over in his hands, gazing down the barrel and snapping the hammer expertly.

  ‘That’s the latest in European military armaments, your highness,’ Madison was telling him. ‘The rifling in the barrel makes the bullet spin in flight, increasing the range and improving accuracy remarkably. You see, I don’t try to fob you off with out-dated, second-hand muskets. I’ve got five hundred more like that on board the Leopardo, every one of them fresh from the manufactory where they were made. I’ll let you test it tomorrow before I ask you to commit yourself. I hear you’re a pretty good shot with a musket? Well, I’m a lousy one. But you use a musket, I’ll use that rifle, and I’ll beat you ten times out of ten against any target you choose to pick. Even British line infantry don’t have rifles as good as that. Those weapons will make your leopard warriors the envy of the finest armies in the world.’

  Salazar glanced up and saw Killigrew and Miss Chance descending the staircase. ‘Ah, Miss Chance. May I introduce you to Prince Khari? Your highness, this is Miss Chance.’ The prince bowed stiffly and clicked his heels, like a Prussian drill instructor. ‘And of course may I present Mr Killigrew, your highness? Mr Killigrew, this is Prince Khari.’

  ‘Charmed, I’m sure,’ said Killigrew. ‘I take it the two of you have a business association?’

  Salazar smiled. ‘It is thanks to Prince Khari’s constant warring with his neighbouring tribes that I am never short of merchandise.’

  ‘They are not “neighbouring tribes”, as you call them,’ Khari reminded Salazar. He spoke good English with a rich and melodious timbre. ‘They are tributary states of my father’s empire.’

  ‘Of course, of course.’ Salazar seemed amused, as if he was used to pandering to the pride of native chieftains. ‘Prince Khari is the son of King Nldamak,’ he added to Killigrew and Miss Chance.

  ‘Ah,’ said Killigrew. ‘And there was I thinking he must be one of the Buckinghamshire Kharis.’

  A footman emerged from a small doorway and held up a small bronze gong, which he struck. ‘Supper is served.’

  ‘Shall we be seated?’ Salazar, as host, led the way into the dining room, followed by Khari, Miss Chance, Madison, Coffin and Killigrew. A long mahogany dining table large enough to seat two dozen people stretched the length of the room, while another gilt-framed old master hung above the cold hearth at the far end. The furniture, as far as Killigrew could tell, was Louis-Quinze. The whole scene was dimly yet warmly illuminated by the many candles burning in the three candelabra on the table; the candelabra might have been silver-plate, but given Salazar’s attitude to spending money Killigrew was ready to bet they were solid silver.

  Salazar sat at the head of the table while the others searched for their place cards. Killigrew found himself seated at Salazar’s left while Miss Chance sat opposite him. Assata entered the room and stood just inside the doorway with her arms folded, unsmiling, watching Miss Chance.

  ‘I’m sorry I’m not wearing a coat or cravat, Mr Salazar, but these were the only clothes your footman brought me,’ Killigrew said apologetically. ‘However, I see from your own apparel you prefer a more casual approach to dress?’

  ‘Indeed I do, Mr Killigrew. I find the heavy clothes worn in Europe quite unsuited for these tropical climes. I trust you have no objection?’

  ‘None at all. A very sensible policy, if I may say so.’

  ‘You may, and I shall take it as a compliment that you do. I trust that the clothes are a suitable fit?’

  ‘Well enough. They’re a little tight around the chest and shoulders.’

  Salazar shrugged. ‘That is to be expected. I fear I do not get as much exercise as I used to when I was a sailor. I try though, exercising with the foil. Do you fence, Mr Killigrew?’

  ‘A little,’ Killigrew admitted cautiously. ‘I’m more used to a cutlass.’

  Salazar tutted. ‘Such a clumsy weapon. Hardly suited for a gentleman, I would have thought.’

  ‘But more practical than a foil when boarding a hostile ship.’

  ‘Mr Killigrew used to be an officer in the Royal Navy,’ explained Madison.

  ‘Indeed.’ Salazar seemed completely untroubled by this revelation. That worried Killigrew at first, until he realised that in the heart of his own private kingdom a man like Salazar had nothing to fear from a lone man, ex-navy or otherwise.

  ‘You used to be a sailor, Mr Salazar?’ asked Miss Chance.

  He nodded. ‘Oh, yes. Once I was the captain of a slaver, just like Mr Madison here. I soon made so much money I was able to start building this place. How long until you can retire, Mr Madison?’

  Madison smiled.
‘With any luck I’ll be able to retire after this voyage. I’ve got my eye on some land on the western frontier of the United States. Good cattle-farming country, I’m told.’

  ‘Exchanging one form of cattle for another?’ Killigrew suggested drily.

  Madison beamed. ‘Exactly so, Mr Killigrew. But cattle are a lot easier to handle than niggers. No offence intended, your highness.’

  Prince Khari inclined his head regally.

  ‘Ah, the wine,’ said Salazar, as another footman entered and started to pour white wine into the crystal goblets. ‘Graves. The best dry white in my cellar. A good vintage, and an excellent complement to the consommé d’été. You will have a glass, won’t you, Mr Killigrew?’

  ‘Mr Killigrew doesn’t drink,’ said Madison.

  Salazar smiled broadly. ‘Oh, but I think he does, Captain Madison. Don’t you, Mr Killigrew? Or should that still be Lieutenant Killigrew? I’m afraid my informant was rather vague on the matter of whether or not you retain your rank while you’re working as a spy for the Slave Trade Department in Whitehall.’

  Chapter 15

  Bad Medicine

  ‘What?’ Salazar said with amusement. ‘No heated denials? No protestations of innocence?’

  ‘You seem to be pretty sure of your information,’ Killigrew said mildly, although his mind was reeling. ‘May I enquire how you came by it?’

  ‘So you can return to England and exact your revenge on the one who betrayed you? Put such thoughts from your mind, Mr Killigrew. You will not be seeing England again.’

  ‘You mean to say he was a spy all along? Spying on me?’

  ‘Spying on us, Captain Madison,’ said Salazar. ‘It’s the name of your financial backers he’s really interested in, although I’m sure his navy would be grateful for the name of your ship and the location of this barracoon.’

  ‘Goddamn it, didn’t I always say that sonuvabitch wasn’t on the level?’ exclaimed Coffin, banging his fist on the table.

  ‘Is it true, then?’ Madison asked Killigrew, more in sorrow than in anger. ‘Have you been a viper in my bosom all this time? I am sorely disappointed in you, Mr Killigrew.’

  ‘I think we should congratulate him for carrying out his imposture so successfully,’ said Salazar. ‘It was a courageous effort, although doomed to failure. I must say, Mr Killigrew, you seem to be taking your defeat with remarkable composure.’

  ‘I’ve lost this trick, but not the hand.’

  ‘I think you’ll find that you’ve played your last card.’

  ‘Oh, I may have a few more left up my sleeve…’ Killigrew suddenly leaped up from his chair, knocking it over backwards, and whirled, snatching the carving knife from the sideboard behind him. He hauled Salazar out of his seat and held the knife’s serrated edge to his throat.

  Madison, Coffin and Khari all jumped to their feet, but they were too slow. Too slow, that is, compared to Assata. In the blink of an eye she had drawn both her pistols and now levelled them, unwavering, at Killigrew’s head.

  ‘No!’ Salazar called to her in panic. ‘Don’t shoot.’

  Killigrew grinned nervously. ‘Don’t worry, Mr Salazar. If Miss Assata knows how to use those things – and from the look of her, she does – then she knows she’s got as much chance of hitting you as she has of killing me.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Salazar returned mildly. ‘Assata is an excellent shot and she would have no difficulty putting out both your eyes at that range. No, my concern was for the Tintoretto on the wall behind you. So please, Mr Killigrew, do both art and yourself a favour and resume your seat so we can finish dinner like civilised gentlemen.’ He held out a hand, palm upwards, and Killigrew, seeing the futility of further resistance, hesitated only for a moment before he surrendered the carving knife. Everyone sat down once more, the footman hurrying forwards to right Killigrew’s chair for him.

  ‘Better we kill him now and be done with it,’ snarled Coffin. ‘I’ll do it myself if you like.’

  ‘Please, please!’ said Salazar. ‘Nothing so uncouth as bloodshed at the dinner table, I pray you. Besides, I think it would be better if Mr Killigrew here informed us exactly how much Rear-Admiral Napier knows of our activities before we see to it that he takes his final leave of this world.’

  ‘Torture, I suppose,’ Miss Chance said coldly. ‘Have you people no consciences?’

  ‘I used to have one,’ said Salazar. ‘But I outgrew it. The vast wealth I have earned as a consequence is more than adequate compensation.’

  Coffin shook his head. ‘He won’t tell you a thing. I know his sort. He’s dangerous. Better to kill him now and be done with it, as I said before.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure Mr Killigrew can be persuaded to tell us everything he knows. Have you ever studied the history of the Spanish Inquisition, Miss Chance? Some of the techniques they used were really quite sophisticated. But tell me, Captain Madison: you have still not yet revealed the reason for Miss Chance’s presence.’

  ‘It was sheer mischance which brought Miss Chance to us, if you’ll pardon the pun,’ said Madison, oblivious to the look she shot him which suggested that pardoning the pun was not on her personal agenda. ‘Her ship went down in a storm about a week ago. We found her, her brother and a sailor floating in the water the next morning. Mr Coffin was for leaving them to their fate; foolishly, I chose to be guided by Mr Killigrew’s advice. I should have guessed then, when I realised he was still a sentimentalist at heart, that he was up to no good. Mr Coffin was kind enough to dispose of the sailor as soon as they realised we were slavers. Miss Chance’s brother, the Reverend Chance, is so sick he doesn’t even know his own name, so he’s no threat; in fact I’ve a feeling he won’t last the night,’ he added with a sly smile which made Killigrew fear for the missionary’s life.

  ‘But as for Miss Chance herself, well… you can see we have a problem. Call me old-fashioned, Mr Salazar, yet I still balk at the thought of killing a woman. But as you can understand, we can’t very well let her go. Least of all now that she’s been here and seen this place. Then I thought of you. Might there be a place in your harem for her?’

  Miss Chance leaped to her feet and flushed bright crimson. ‘What? How dare you!’ Assata quickly stepped up behind her and forced her back down into her chair. Miss Chance struggled against her, but the Dahomey amazon was bigger and stronger than her, and twisted her arm up into the small of her back until she cried out in pain. ‘Let go of me, you… evil woman!’

  ‘Enough, Assata!’ snapped Salazar, and the woman released Miss Chance with a contemptuous curl of her lip.

  ‘Let the girl go on her word of honour that she’ll breathe nothing of what she’s seen to a living soul, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know,’ Killigrew said tightly.

  ‘But you are going to do that anyway, whether you like it or not,’ Salazar pointed out reasonably. ‘You are in no position to bargain, Mr Killigrew.’ He turned back to Madison and Coffin. ‘It is a generous gift, my friends.’

  ‘The least we can do, under the circumstances,’ said Madison. ‘If it hadn’t been for your informant in England, my carelessness in having Killigrew in my crew could have ruined us all.’

  ‘Then I shall accept your gift. She will be a fine addition to my little menagerie.’

  ‘For the love of mercy, Mr Killigrew!’ implored Miss Chance. ‘Surely you cannot mean to sit there and say nothing while these evil swine treat me like… like some kind of chattel?’

  ‘There is not a lot Mr Killigrew can do about it,’ said Salazar. ‘If I were you, Miss Chance, I should not look to him for help. He is as good as dead. Whether that death comes swiftly and painlessly, or is lingering and agonising, is entirely up to him. The sooner you accept that and resign yourself to your fate, the happier you will be, I assure you. I pride myself on how well I treat my concubines, and I hope I am not without my charms…’

  ‘You have all the charm of a rattlesnake, Mr Salazar. I wouldn’t willingly associate with you if you were t
he last man in the world.’

  Killigrew chuckled.

  ‘That amuses you, Mr Killigrew?’ said Salazar, evidently hurt by her rebuff. ‘Laugh while you can. You will have nothing to laugh about tomorrow, I assure you.’

  ‘I believe it’s customary to give the condemned man a last request?’ asked Killigrew.

  ‘Of course, within reason. Perhaps you would like the pick of my harem? I often treat honoured guests so, and your bravery deserves reward. But not Miss Chance, however. I prefer my meat fresh, and do not care to taste of another man’s leavings.’

  ‘What a charming way of looking at things you have, Mr Salazar. Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of something to drink, since I’ve been on the wagon for about a month now and there’s no longer any need for me to maintain the pretence of being teetotal.’

  Salazar laughed. ‘Of course. Some wine for Mr Killigrew, Henriques?’

  ‘Actually, I know it’s a little early in the meal, but I wondered if I might trouble you for something a little stronger? To help calm my nerves, you understand.’

  ‘Then I entreat you to try my cognac. It was left in the cellars of Bonaparte’s home on the island of Saint-Helena. I purchased it at auction for no less than five thousand pounds per bottle. A fitting last request, would you not say?’

  ‘Genuine Napoleon brandy,’ Killigrew remarked with a smile, as Henriques leaned over him to place a balloon glass on the table.

  ‘It was well worth every penny I paid for it,’ said Salazar.

  ‘It has a splendidly smoky flavour.’

  As Henriques leaned over the table with the bottle of cognac, Killigrew shifted his chair slightly and a moment later the footman had dropped the bottle and was hopping about, clutching his foot.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?’ Killigrew quickly righted the bottle and mopped up the puddle of spilt cognac from the surface of the table with his napkin. ‘My apologies. How clumsy of me.’ He made as if to wring out the napkin, twisting it between his hands, and then thrust it into the neck of the bottle and touched the cognac-soaked cloth to one of the candles in the nearest candelabra. The cognac flamed at once and then Killigrew hurled the bottle at Assata. She ducked and the bottle smashed against the wall, spraying the far end of the room with flaming cognac.