Before the muskets could be brought into play again, the first boat rounded up alongside the British cutter.
‘Fire pistols,’ Hayden said, aiming at the man opposite him.
At that range, the British fire was ruinous. Perhaps half a dozen men clambered out of the boat and into the British cutter as the second boat came up and its crew followed. There was a brief, fierce battle at the rail, and then the outnumbered privateers were falling back and leaping for their boats. Oars went clumsily into the water and, as the single boat containing the survivors pulled away, the British loaded guns and fired two volleys to unknown effect.
Turning his attention back to the schooner, Hayden discovered that the French prisoners who were able had leapt over the side and swum for shore, leaving only the most severely wounded behind. The schooner was quickly got underway, and set off into the darkness, free at last of the island of Guadeloupe.
Hayden stood by the helmsman, Childers.
‘Will Mr Archer return for us this night, sir?’ Childers asked.
‘Left to his own devices, I am quite certain he would, but he will be obliged to take orders from Sir William, and I rather doubt Captain Jones believes us still at liberty.’
‘Then what should we do, sir?’
‘That is what I must decide, but first the crew and her officers must be fed so that decisions are not made with our wit enfeebled by hunger.’
Hawthorne approached then.
‘Sir,’ the marine lieutenant began, ‘we discovered two men manacled below. One appears to be English and the other claims he is a royalist who was caught while attempting to escape Guadeloupe by boat.’
‘An Englishman?’ Hayden could hardly credit what he had heard.
‘A soldier, sir … or so he claims.’
‘Well, have them carried up, Mr Hawthorne. I shall speak with them upon this instant.’
The men in question were led up, still manacled, by two of Hawthorne’s marines. They were something of a contrast – an ill-kempt man of perhaps thirty-five, small in stature; and a dark young man of rather noble bearing.
‘Which of you is English?’ Hayden asked.
‘Me, sir,’ the older man offered, raising his hands slightly. ‘Jimmy Ruston. And very happy I am to see you, Captain.’
‘Mr Hawthorne tells me you were a soldier?’
‘I believe I still am, sir, though the army likely believe me dead. I was a corporal with the 43rd, sir. We were overrun at night while in retreat from Fort Fleur-d’Epée and I was struck on the head and left for dead. I awoke, sir, when I was being rummaged by an old slave woman. When I realized my predicament, I tried to rejoin my company, sir, but I was cut off. I went to ground, Captain, and made my way up into the mountains of Basse-Terre. I’d been living off the land, as it were, for … well, I can’t say how long, sir, because I lost track. Two Frenchies tracked me down and caught me, sir, and were taking me in when –’ he made a gesture toward the other captive – ‘Louis, here, stepped out of the bush and shot one with a musket and t’other with a pistol. I didn’t know it then, but he’d been watching me for some time. You see, Louis had escaped the Jacobins and was hiding out, too, when he first saw me. He’d jumped out a window and escaped when the Jacobins came for his family. He’s a good lad, sir. Only nineteen, but he’s got bottom, sir, and steady as they come.’
‘Do you speak English?’ Hayden asked the young man in French.
‘Some small English. Better than Ruston speaks French.’
‘Is what he said true? You escaped the Jacobins when they came for your family?’
‘Yes. They came at night. They always come at night. I jumped from an upstairs window. Papa feared always that we would be discovered – my family, we were royalists. He hided guns and clothing and some food in case we ever had to make escape to the mountains … but I am the only one to escape. They chased me, but I am faster. Then, sometime, I see Ruston. He was very secret, quiet, never having fire by day. Stealing … food sometimes but not too much. Hunting but only far away from people. I think he must be like me – a royalist, maybe. But then some Jacobins came and catched him. I shoot them and then find he is an English soldier. He showed me his uniform.’ He tilted his head toward his fellow captive. ‘These are stolen clothes he is wearing.’ He held up his manacled hands. ‘Please, can you take them off?’
‘Do we have keys, Mr Hawthorne?’
‘We do not, sir, but I will set men to searching.’
Hayden turned back to the captives and opened his hands – a small gesture of helplessness. ‘The instant we have a key …’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Ruston said. ‘We were for the guillotine, without a doubt. They called me a spy. I thought it was all up for Jimmy Ruston, sir.’
Hayden thought the man might break down and weep, his voice was so laden with emotion, but he turned his face away and mastered himself.
Ransome and Wickham arranged watches and stations, the stove was lit and food quickly prepared. It was Hayden’s intention to sail away from Guadeloupe toward the island of Marie-Galante, and then return to lie off the bay and hope Archer returned in the Themis. Beyond that, he had no plan. Certainly, he could return to Barbados with his prize – which would allow him to see his bride much sooner than he had hoped. He could make the short sail to Portsmouth, on the north end of Dominica – a mere ten or eleven leagues on a fair wind. He hoped, however, that he would rendezvous with the Themis that night. He was anxious regarding Archer sailing with Jones. It was very clear to Hayden, now, why Crawley and Oxford had slipped away at the first opportunity. Hayden had believed it was because they were interested in prize money, but now he was quite certain they did not want to let Jones lead them into disaster. Taking the brig in the midst of a crowded harbour might have been audacious, but it was even more foolish. Hayden had lost nine men in that misadventure. Nine! He had fought engagements with a French frigate and lost fewer men than that. And all for nothing. But then Hayden caught himself. At least they now had this schooner to show for all their losses. Too small a prize for so great a price.
If Archer were to arrive off the bay it would be sometime after midnight – one or two, Hayden thought. The trade commonly eased after dark; Hayden did not want to be left creeping back toward the harbour and arriving too late, but he also wanted to be certain he had left the privateers in their boats behind.
‘Sir?’ It was one of the hands, with a bowl in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. ‘French wine, Mr Wickham said to tell you.’
Dinner was salt cod, boiled pease, hard bread, butter and cheese. A strange sense of relief spread through Hayden’s being as he devoured his food, using the binnacle for a table. Hawthorne appeared.
‘Will you join me at table, Mr Hawthorne?’
‘I would be honoured, sir.’ Hawthorne raised his glass. ‘To the good men we lost.’
Hayden raised his own. The two ate in silence a moment and then the marine asked, ‘Do you think Mr Archer will return this night?’
‘To do so, I suspect he will have to defy Jones. A difficult thing for a first lieutenant to do.’
‘But we will go there, all the same?’
‘That is my intention. If the Themis is not there, we will return with our prize to Barbados.’
‘What will the admiral think of that, I wonder?’
‘He will calculate his share of the prize money and make his judgement accordingly. If he is pleased with his share he will excuse me for appointing myself prize captain and returning to my bride while leaving my first lieutenant in command of my frigate.’
‘It is not as if you had any choice in the matter. Jones abandoned us. It is a miracle we were not taken prisoner.’
‘Very true, but I wonder how the admiral’s particular friend, Jones, will describe what happened? Sir William might suggest that we were foolish not to follow him when he abandoned the brig. If we had done that, we would not have been left behind.’
‘Do you think Jones will t
ry to cast some blame on us for what happened?’
‘What is the alternative? To admit that it was a vain and risky plan that ended badly and that he ran at first opportunity, leaving us to fight off the French and escape as best we could? I doubt his report to Caldwell will be so honest.’ Hayden took a sip of his wine. ‘Have you found a key to release our captives?’
‘Yes. The master of the ship kept one in a trunk.’ Hawthorne leaned nearer to Hayden and said quietly, ‘Do you think Ruston ran?’
‘It would be a very unlikely place to decide to desert. And if their story is true, they were attempting to sail to Dominica and had the ill fortune to be discovered by privateers. I am inclined to believe them.’
‘I agree, Captain. They had even greater good fortune to have us take their ship. Ruston would have been bound for the guillotine as a spy and Louis for being a royalist.’
As Hayden and Hawthorne finished their meal, and one of the hands cleared away their bowls and glasses, Louis approached. He was rubbing his wrists and grimacing as he did so.
‘May I speak with you, Captain Hayden?’ he asked.
‘Certainly.’ He glanced at Hawthorne, who touched his hat and backed into the darkness.
For a moment the young man appeared to search for words.
‘You may speak French,’ Hayden said to him. ‘I comprehend it perfectly.’
‘On Basse-Terre there are many like me – hiding from the Jacobins. The authorities have offered money to capture them so they are every day being hunted – men, women and children, too. You could save many of these people, Captain.’
‘But they are hiding in the mountains, Louis. How would I find them?’
‘I would find them, Captain Hayden. There are fifty I know of. I would go ashore in a place I know where it is secret and your ship would not be seen. I would gather together some – not too many, for it would be dangerous to bring so many. Sixteen or seventeen each night. Three nights. Otherwise, they will all be hunted and only the youngest children will be spared. Everyone else …’ He made a slicing motion with his hand at this throat.
‘Where is this secret place you speak of?’
‘On the western shore. Near a small island – the Islets à Goayaves. It is very near the mountains.’
‘Does anyone live nearby?’
Louis hesitated and then, without looking at Hayden, he said, ‘No one to concern us.’
‘Ah.’ Hayden knew better than to enquire further. ‘What you ask, Louis … it is very dangerous. I must make four visits to the shore. The chances of being seen and reported will increase each time. A great risk for my crew.’
‘But the men and women hiding in the mountains – their chances of being captured are extreme. It is just a matter of when this will happen. You will be taking a risk – I cannot deny this – but compared to them … well, it is smaller, somewhat.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I am told, Captain Hayden, that your mother is French …’
Hayden shook his head. ‘It is so difficult to keep a secret.’
‘There are many women hiding in the mountains who will go to the guillotine if we cannot help them. That is why I sailed to Dominica – to ask the English for help.’
‘I will consider your request, Louis. I can promise you no more than that. If we rendezvous this night with my senior captain I will no longer be free to act independently. Do you understand?’
The young man nodded. He left Hayden standing near the transom rail, a small battle raging between wit and heart. His orders were to harass the enemy’s shipping – to ‘take, burn or destroy’ French vessels wherever he met them. Caldwell had made no mention of rescuing royalists.
A memory of Madame Adair came to mind, frightened into distraction as the Jacobins came to her gate … and then passed by. Hayden also remembered their desperate coupling and her precious daughter. Was Madame Adair yet alive or had she been drawn into the maelstrom of the guillotine? He did not know, nor did he know what had become of Charlotte, her daughter. The thought of these two – women and girl – being hunted in the wilderness caused such a wave of anguish it was like being wracked with pain.
He wondered how dangerous it would be to slip up to the coast in the depths of the night. Were there royalists or sympathizers living in the place Louis had named? Certainly, that was what he had intimated.
Hawthorne returned at that moment and Hayden waved him near.
‘Shall I allow half my men to sleep?’ the marine asked.
Hayden nodded. ‘Until we return to lie off the harbour. Then I will have every able-bodied man awake and at his station. I do not want to be caught unawares and unprepared.’
Hawthorne touched his hat.
‘Mr Hawthorne …?’
‘Sir?’
‘I have just had a conversation with our young royalist. He tells me there are many people hiding in the mountains and slowly being tracked down by the Jacobins, who then put them upon the guillotine. He has implored me to mount a rescue.’
Hawthorne considered this. ‘I am not overly fond of royalists myself, but I prefer them to Jacobins, and at least they are nominally our allies. What would we be required to do, Captain, if I may ask?’
‘That is the problem. We would slip in near to the coast and row Louis ashore. He would go searching for the hidden royalists. The difficulty is that he does not think it safe to move large numbers of them at once – no more than sixteen or seventeen at a time – and he believes he can locate fifty.’
‘Then what is he proposing?’ Hawthorne asked, confused.
‘That we bring aboard royalists on three consecutive nights.’
‘Four nights in total?’
‘That is correct.’
‘Well, this cove where we are going to pick up royalists had better be very secluded, otherwise we will be discovered.’
‘It is a beach on the western coast of Basse-Terre.’
‘A beach can be a very exposed place, Captain … even by darkness. And to go four nights to the same beach …’
‘It is a very great danger. And I fear, Mr Hawthorne, that my parentage might influence me in this matter.’
‘I do not think, sir, that feeling compassion for people caught up in a war they did not want indicates an improper conflict on your part. If the admiral had given us orders to take these people off, there would be no question, but I doubt his orders covered such an eventuality …?’
‘No, they did not.’
‘But it would seem, given the numbers of royalists living on Barbados, that the admiral is not unsympathetic to their cause. In which case, it is only a question of the possible risk to your crew and our prize, Captain.’
‘And would the crew willingly risk their lives – and their prize money – for a passel of Frenchmen?’
‘Fortunately, a ship is not a republic, and they do not have a vote.’
‘No, they do not but, in this case, I shall consult with my officers.’ Hayden waved one of the hands near. ‘Pass the word for Mr Ransome and Mr Wickham, if you please.’
Wickham and Ransome hurried aft and Hayden related Louis’s request and asked their opinion. Neither was used to being included in such deliberations, and Hayden could feel them hesitating.
Not wanting to speak before a lieutenant, Wickham turned to his shipmate. ‘What think you, Mr Ransome?’
‘I think it is a very dangerous endeavour, but if we do not attempt it … well, it sounds as if we shall be condemning these people to the guillotine.’
‘And you, Mr Wickham?’ Hayden asked, noting that Ransome had not committed himself one way or another.
‘I think we must try it, Captain, but I for one would be more comfortable with it if we were not returning to the same beach four nights together. Is there not some other place that would serve the same purpose?’
‘It is a fair question, Mr Wickham. Find Louis for me, and we shall put the question to him.’
A moment later Wickham returned with the Frenchman, and Hayden asked him i
f there was not some other beach they could use.
‘There are other beaches, but none that will suit our purposes so well. I can bring people there by ways that are safe and where we are unlikely to be seen. Also, the people who are hiding … some are very young and others are quite elderly. This beach is not so far for them to travel. As I say, we could use another beach, but I think the risks would be greater.’
‘It sounds as though we are taking more risk so that your royalists may take fewer,’ Ransome observed.
‘No, no. For everyone there will be less risk to go to this beach four times than to go to another. If I cannot reach some other place, because the Jacobins are near and we must stay hidden, then you will come and come again to that place. No, this way is better, monsieur, I am certain.’
The four Englishmen were silent a moment.
‘I know you would only do this out of goodness,’ Louis offered. ‘You have no orders from your commander to save people loyal to the King of France, nor is there prize money to be had. All you will have is the gratitude of people who have nothing with which to repay you, for most have lost everything. The gratitude of the dispossessed –’ he shrugged – ‘it is a worthless currency.’
‘Thank you, Louis,’ Hayden said. ‘I will inform you of our decision.’
They watched Louis retreat.
‘If I may, sir?’ Hawthorne asked. ‘We must both take him on trust and also we must believe he can do what he claims – find and deliver the royalists to the beach without the Jacobins getting wind of it. A lot to ask, given that we have not known him more than an hour.’
‘Ruston thinks very highly of him,’ Hayden said, ‘though we have not known that gentleman any longer. I will tell him I will make my decision after we have attempted to rendezvous with Sir William. I do not want to make any promises to Louis only to have Jones set against them. In the interval, you might all take the time to have some conversation with our Frenchman so you can take his measure and tell me then what you think.’
Hayden had the little schooner stand out toward the island of Marie-Galante until he judged it time, and then he shaped their course to the point off the bay where they had originally launched boats the previous night – which already seemed like many days ago. Under cover of darkness and in deteriorating weather, they stood in toward the bay, Ransome and Wickham taking over the duties of Mr Barthe and piloting them in using the privateer’s charts.
Until the Sea Shall Give Up Her Dead Page 24