by Dudley Pope
“But let me finish. The Assembly (the Governor acting with the council) will make laws to remain in force two years, and no longer, unless approved by the Privy Council in London.”
Thomas sniffed, doubtful and wary. “That means we’re ruled entirely from London,” he grumbled. “If they don’t like a law, they don’t approve it and it lapses after two years. But how will they know what’s needed out here? They’ve shown no signs of doing so up to now. Stupidity reinforcing ignorance…”
“We’ll have had a couple of years’ benefit from it,” Ned said, “and after two years we can pass other laws almost identical and that’ll give us another two years…”
“Now, here’s the final thing and I should have mentioned it earlier,” Luce said hurriedly, not liking the loopholes being revealed. “I am to form a militia of five regiments, and each regiment is to be named after the particular area where the volunteers were recruited.”
Ned sighed. “So we’ll have the Port Royal Volunteers, commanded by the butcher with the candlemaker as second in command, and with three sawyers, two coopers, one potman and a rheumatic pickpocket as the fighting force. Five regiments, Thomas: I haven’t seen five horses in the last five days!”
“I take it that you two gentlemen have no objection to me putting your names forward for election to the council?” Luce asked.
Thomas laughed and again the table trembled. “By all means do. I want particularly to be on the committee responsible for ‘preserving a good correspondence and free commerce’ with the Dons. And you, Heffer, you’d better start pacing out the positions for the sentry boxes for those 550 soldiers of yours. In the meantime, Your Excellency, Mr Yorke and I will open a few taverns and bordellos and we’ll see if we can’t get our hands on some of that £12,274 you will soon be giving to those dry-throated and womenless soldiers…”
Chapter Three
“Well, there they are,” Ned said tapping the parchment of twenty-eight creased and stained commissions which he and Thomas had collected from the buccaneers, using their visits to explain the situation now that the Governor had arrived with a new constitution.
“None of the captains liked the news,” Thomas said, more to tell Diana and Aurelia than comment on it.
“I should think not,” Diana said. “If this shows what the Privy Council know about the Spanish, the Caribbee Islands and how to choose men to be governors, I hate to think what’s happening in Barbados and Antigua, or even the Isle of Wight and the Isle of Dogs.”
Thomas gave a bitter laugh. “Lopez made the most interesting comments, and don’t forget he’s Spanish. He said two things. First, that obviously our King has secretly converted to Catholicism and knows he has to curry favour with the Pope by returning Jamaica to His Most Catholic Majesty, and second, among our King’s advisers is someone in the pay of Spain – probably a Catholic who was in exile with him and who drafted that secret treaty handing over Jamaica and Dunkirk.”
Aurelia asked: “Do you think Lopez’s right?”
Thomas glanced up at Ned, who nodded. “It sounds possible. I don’t think the Duke of Albemarle is involved in the religious aspect, but obviously someone in the pay of Spain (or a Catholic fanatic) has the King’s ear. It’s the only way to account for Jamaica and Dunkirk – the Duke knows the bitter fighting for Dunkirk, and as for the place’s importance to England, it doesn’t matter whether it was Roundhead or Cavalier keeping out the Dons.”
“Is Lopez likely to tell other captains what he thinks has happened in London?” Aurelia asked.
“Yes, he has to, out of loyalty to them.”
“He wouldn’t take your assurance that he was wrong?” Diana asked.
“Would you give anyone such an assurance?”
“No, I suppose not. What happens now, Ned? Do we all depart for Tortuga and forget we are just starting to build ourselves houses and clear land for planting after finding guns and gold for this island?”
Thomas sat down with a thump, his fingers beginning to curl the ends of his beard. “Thanks to the Portobelo purchase, none of us has to worry about money, and this fellow Loosely or whatever his name is can’t avoid confirming Heffer’s land grants to us, so we can go ahead and build the houses and clear the land, but…”
“Exactly,” Aurelia said. “That ‘but’…the island will have no Army, except for 550 pathetic buffoons spaced round the beaches, and no ships to protect it because the buccaneers will get bored and go after purchase: the Restoration of Charles II doesn’t make the Dutch, French and Portuguese buccaneers suddenly love Spain. But you two men are going to enjoy clearing land and building houses and dressing up to attend council meetings whenever this buffoon Luce decides to call them. Quelle blague,” she said disgustedly. “Do any of the buccaneer captains want a cook?”
“There’s no holding a French lady once she gets going,” Diana said laughingly. “Can I say my Catechism now?”
“Go ahead,” Ned said ruefully. “You’ll have to say ‘quelle blague’ in English, and anyway, the Spaniards won’t be here before Michaelmas!”
“Thank you, kind sir, for that reassurance. First, if you two leave the island now for Tortuga, it means that Luce blunders along with the help of a few misguided tradesmen as councillors. Poor old Heffer – who at last has learned a few lessons from you – will be left with no allies.”
“Good point,” Thomas grunted, “but do we really care what happens to the island now? Hasn’t London cast us off by giving us back to Spain?”
“Going to give,” Aurelia said. “They haven’t done it yet.”
“It’s the anchorage, not the island,” Diana said. “But anyway, I’m not going to waste all that work we’ve done pegging out the foundations for our house. We have at least six months before we need worry about the Spanish. Five months, perhaps four – how many? Anything can happen by then.”
Ned shrugged his shoulders. “The Dons haven’t the ships over here to do us much harm – yet. But what’s going on in Madrid? If they feel strongly about Jamaica, then they’ve got to dig the money out of their treasury and fit out enough ships to send a fleet to deal with us here. And collect the silver and gold and gems that have been piling up in Cartagena and Vera Cruz for shipment to pay Spain’s debts. The Spanish King will soon be defaulting on his loans from the Fuggers and the other bankers in Europe. So sending out a fleet (if he can afford it) would serve two purposes.”
“I doubt he can borrow the money to fit out a fleet,” Thomas said.
Ned disagreed. “He might be able to borrow more because the bankers know they won’t get a dollar more of interest or principal for years unless the Dons get at least one plate fleet from the Main. The last was years ago, from Vera Cruz. The Spaniards’ treasury is really in the silver mines out here, which means the King can’t spend a dollar of it until he ships it home.”
“What you mean,” Thomas said, “is that the bankers will have to risk more money to get their original loans back.”
“Yes. Risk throwing good money after bad. Bankers hate that.”
Diana smiled and held her hands palm uppermost. “Then we need to be more frightened of the bankers than the Spaniards!”
Ned nodded. “For many years Spain has been using her money to try to force converts to her religion, but I begin to think that bankers must be shaking their heads now over a new loan which might end up bringing Spain to its knees faster than an invading army!”
“None of which,” Diana reminded them, “helps us decide what we do. If our new King gives us away to Spain, it doesn’t matter about bankers. What about us? What do you think, Aurelia?”
“I agree with you about the house. I’ve ridden over those mountains so often and been bitten by so many mosquitoes, that I’d like to see it finished. Clearing the land for planting – when we know if we keep the land or
give it to a hidalgo – can wait until later. We have time, haven’t we Ned?”
“I think so, but whether we have time or not really depends on what the buccaneers decide. They long ago elected me their Admiral, and Governor Luce’s arrival doesn’t change that. But now he’s cancelled their commissions will they go on using Port Royal as a base? That’s what matters. If they don’t, many merchants and chandlers will be ruined.”
“They’ll still attack the Spanish or smuggle?” Diana asked.
“Of course they will. It’s the only life they know!”
“How does that affect you?” Aurelia asked quietly.
“If I remain their leader, I’ll be a pirate as far as the English are concerned, because now we’re at peace with Spain.”
Thomas interrupted by holding up his hand. “But what about that ‘forcing a trade’ clause in the Governor’s orders?”
“That is to follow attempts at doing it peacefully!”
“Well, you don’t think the Spanish will agree to a peaceful trade, do you? It’s a contradiction. People either trade or they don’t trade – you can’t force ’em. The third method is the one we’ve always done – smuggle. Anyway, that sort of decision about trade would have to be made in Spain, and it’d take months to get an answer back from Madrid. Six months at least.”
“And the buccaneers are not going to stay here idle and drinking rum and chasing the women in the bordellos, for as long as that.”
“No,” Ned said firmly and, winking at Aurelia, added: “There’s such a poor choice of women for them, too.”
Luce wasted no time in appointing his legislative council and both Ned and Thomas were notified that they had been chosen to serve. The following day they received a notice in the morning that they were required to attend a meeting that evening at “the Governor’s residence” in Port Royal. This, a postscript added, was the house previously occupied by the acting Governor.
“He’s got to be trained,” Ned grumbled. “Evening meetings mean we have to fight our way through swarms of mosquitoes. Why not morning meetings? Or even afternoons?”
When they arrived for the meeting, Ned and Thomas found five large candles burning on what had been Heffer’s desk, which was surrounded by chairs on three sides, the fourth side having only one chair on which the new Governor was to sit. Heffer emerged from the small crowd when Ned and Thomas came into the room and, keeping them to one side, said quietly: “The Governor has asked me to introduce you to any councillor you might not know…”
“Don’t know any of ’em,” Thomas said bluntly. He looked at the men, still standing round talking. “That doesn’t surprise me. Sorry-looking lot, aren’t they?”
“Er…well, they’re tradesmen, of course, and not used to this sort of thing. You gentlemen are going to have to be patient and teach them.”
“Teach them!” Thomas exclaimed. “What do we know about councils? Ned gives the orders to the Brethren and they obey; on board my ship I give the orders and the men obey. No discussing and debating!”
He was thankful Diana could not hear him and as he caught Ned’s eye he saw the same thoughts were crossing his mind about Aurelia. The sisterhood of the Coast, the identities known only to the two men, had more influence than all the Brethren!
“No, quite,” Heffer agreed. “But now we have a Governor and a legislative council, so you gentlemen must keep to the agenda! Your turn will come last.”
Ned stared at Heffer: it was the first time he had heard the man say anything which sounded even whimsical, let alone amusing. “If the agenda is your responsibility, write down just one item: ‘Any other business’.”
“I’ve already done that,” Heffer said. “The final item. That’s your turn!”
Heffer found he did not have to lead Mr Yorke and Sir Thomas to the other councillors: as soon as they realized who the men were, they hurried across the room and formed a line. Ned was amused to notice that already they had decided their own order of precedence, probably based on each man’s prosperity.
The first introduced by Heffer was a squat and fat-faced man with a jolly manner who was obviously quite in awe of Ned. “I’m O’Leary, the ship chandler – I’m glad to meet you, sir. I hope I can look forward to having you for a customer.”
Ned grinned and shook his head. “Not unless the Dons stop supplying us for nothing!”
O’Leary laughed cheerfully. “Don’t let the Governor hear you say that – I hear we’re supposed to be at peace with Spain now.”
“Has anyone told the Dons?” Thomas made no attempt to keep his voice low as he introduced himself.
After O’Leary came Kinnock, the island’s pawnbroker, whose narrow and mean-looking face had already marked him down in Ned’s mind as a moneylender, pawnbroker or apothecary. His skin was white and he was one of those unlucky men who perspired heavily, both naturally and because he drank heavily.
His pallid complexion was emphasized by a sharp red nose so heavily veined that it appeared to be covered with crude purple lace. A pair of long moustaches once blond were now stained by the smoke from pipe tobacco and sagging because they formed a natural catchment of the perspiration streaming down his forehead and missing his eyebrows. His tapered beard was so thin that it reminded Ned of a discarded paint brush.
Kinnock obviously realized that Nature had treated him unfairly and equally obviously was under no illusion that most men disliked him. However, he made the mistake of assuming his unpopularity was due to his trade, whereas it was caused entirely by his ungracious manner, obvious meanness and obsession with the value and price of everything.
He had no sooner been introduced to Ned than he was fingering Ned’s sword. “That’s from Toledo, Mr Yorke, I’ll stake my reputation on it. Where else can you find gold wire inlaid like that? Any time you want to sell it, Mr Yorke, you call on me!”
“I’m sure Mr Yorke will,” Heffer said hastily, and turned Ned so that he met the next person. “You don’t know Mr Fraser, who imports most of our cloth and thread,” he said, and before he could complete the introduction Fraser was shaking Ned’s hand with a firm grasp, and turning to do the same with Thomas.
“I’ve been wanting to meet you two gentlemen for a long time,” he said eagerly. He was a burly man, round-faced and cheerful – every child’s idea, Ned thought, of a kindly uncle who brought a present when he visited.
“Yes, I’ve wanted to thank you. Without you and your men, we tradesmen here would long ago been killed by the Dons – or be trying to scratch a living in somewhere like Barbados!”
Ned smiled and then said: “General Heffer and his men played a part, too, don’t forget.”
“Best we do forget it,” Fraser said amiably, eyeing Heffer. “The only thing his men could do against the Spanish is let their trollops give them the pox!”
Heffer flushed but did not argue – an indication of Fraser’s wealth, Ned thought – or the accuracy of his comment.
“Tell me, Mr Yorke,” Fraser asked quietly, “what have you heard about giving the island back to Spain? Giving us all to Spain, rather.”
Ned thought of the fate of the bearer of bad tidings. “I’m sure our new Governor will soon have something to say about it – after all, this is the first meeting of his new legislative council.”
“We’ll send him packing if he tries to humbug us,” Fraser growled. “The Convertine frigate hasn’t sailed yet!”
Heffer coughed and took Ned’s arm. “There are several more people you should meet before the council starts its meeting,” he said hurriedly. “Please excuse us, Mr Fraser.”
With two exceptions, the rest of the members echoed Fraser’s question about the Spaniards. The two exceptions were men who Ned remembered were planning to set up a business importing slaves. From the Main, he assumed: the Spanish asiento cl
aimed the monopoly of slave trading from the Gulf of Guinea to the Main and the Indies. To bring in slaves, this pair would first have to buy them from Spanish traders. Then Ned remembered how he knew of the pair: for a long time they had been protesting to Heffer about the Brethren’s activities against Spain, complaining that the buccaneers were wrecking any chance of trade with the Main. At the time their protests had seemed ludicrous, but now, in the light of the news from England, they seemed sinister.
Parry, he was one of the men, a Welshman. Who was his partner? Shaw, that was his name. Parry had wanted to arrange for Spaniards to make an official visit to Jamaica – even suggested, so Heffer said, that their leader should be given some sort of present, a piece of silver plate or something.
Even the humourless Heffer had seen the irony of that, because any piece of silver plate given to the Dons must certainly have been captured from them in the first place. Although Port Royal boasted a silversmith (a very good one, as it happened) he was a wild man with a great hatred for the Spanish. Even now he was working on pieces of silver which were to designs that Aurelia and Diana had drawn for him, but anyone suggesting he did anything for a Spaniard (unless a buccaneer) was likely to get his throat cut, albeit with a silver knife.
Heffer pulled an enormous watch from his fob pocket and clucked like a scrawny hen recalling strayed chicks.
“Gentlemen, please be seated: the Governor will be here any moment.” He looked at Ned and Thomas, and pointed to the two chairs on the right side of the desk. “If you two gentlemen will sit there…”
“Why?” Thomas demanded. “I like to face people.”
“A matter of precedence,” Heffer said mischievously.
Preceded by his secretary, William Hamilton, who marched with all the self-important strutting of an auctioneer and tapped the floor three times with his gold-topped cane, demanding silence, Sir Harold Luce walked into the room, bowing slightly as he held the scabbard of his ceremonial sword with all the wariness of a passing adult eyeing a playful child’s broomstick.