And as Tom Warner's eldest son, as heir to all this, it was above all his responsibility to lead the way down that domestic padi. How much of that knowledge had driven him from the beginning? How much of the certainty that Englishmen mid Frenchmen must be rivals for this paradise had caused him to select before all others a French girl as his wife? There was nonsense, sound reasoning after the event. It took no account of flowing mahogany brown hair, of swelling breasts and thin white legs, of that echoing laugh, of the spirit which had created such a rapport with life itself. But to consider those things, now, must be to consider them as they were, now, spreadeagled before Wapisiane. Would he need four of his men to hold her down? Or would he first beat her into submission? Or would he need to do either? Christ, what a thought. So, when she came back, would there be bruises on her body? There would be bruises inside her body, where his weapon had gone questing. These would not be for the seeing, but his own weapon would know they were there, whenever it sought comfort. And what of the mind? Would he ever know whether she had wept or sighed as Wapisiane had forced her from her knees to her belly to chewing the dust? Would she ever admit that? Or worse yet, suppose with her habitual candour she admitted it freely? What then? Where does honour and manhood end, and hatred begin?
He remained by the rail all night, doing no more than drink a glass of wine. Not even his father came near him. They could appreciate his feelings even if, no doubt, they could not exactly share them. But his was a position in which any one of them could find themselves, should they not complete this task with dreadful certainty.
In the hour before dawn he dozed, his knees buckling so that he knelt on the deck by the gunwale, to be awakened with a cry of 'Sail ho' from the masthead, to struggle to his feet, muscles cramped and head swinging, and watch the three masted ship bearing down from the north east.
Tom Warner hurried on deck, accompanied by John Painton and the French officers. 'A Spaniard, you think?’
Painton levelled his glass. 'No. Why be God. . . .' he frowned into the eyepiece. 'The Caribee Queen. Tony Hilton.'
Edward snatched the telescope. Tony? By God....' he did not recognize the ship. But there was no doubt about its strength. Fifteen cannon bristled at him from each broadside. She could have blown the Plymouth Belle clear out of the water. 'You'll shorten sail, John, and speak with her?'
‘I shall, Ned. But I doubt we need to, as she is catching us in any event. My bottom is too foul for speed.'
They lined the rail and watched the privateer approach. Even at a mile distance they could see the tall figure in the rigging. 'Ned Warner, by God,' Hilton shouted.
'What brings you south?' Edward called, Ins whole body throbbing with hope.
'The Dandy sloop put into Tortuga yesterday afternoon,' Hilton bellowed. 'We heard there was work to be done.'
'By God,' Tom muttered. 'He must have close on a hundred men in that ship. With his force.. ..'
Painton slapped him on the back. 'Well knock a few Indians on the head, for sure, Tom. Aye, we're back where we started, by God. Wapisiane will not stand before us.' He pointed forward, to the massive deep green slopes of Dominica. 'There's our enemy.'
There were no natural harbours in Dominica. As the breeze held in the north east the two ships stood on for the south western comer, and there dropped their anchors close to an open beach, and disembarked their men.
'Mon Dieu,' muttered Jean Solange, one of the Frenchmen. 'But this is sand?’
The beach was black.
Edward was first ashore. "Volcanic ash. This island is hardly more than a large volcano, 'tis said. As are St Lucia and St Vincent and Martinique, to the south.'
Solange stared at the tree-clad slopes rising above them, and crossed himself.
‘I hope there is no chance of an eruption during our stay,' remarked his companion, Lafitte.
‘It'd be rumbling and smoking already,' Painton pointed out. 'Come on, lads, let's get those weapons ashore.'
Edward walked down the beach to greet Hilton as he landed. 'Tony. I could hardly believe my eyes. But this is not your fight.'
'Any Warner fight is Tony Hilton's fight as well, Ned. You kept Susan safe for me. I'll do no less to get Aline back safe for you. If it is possible.'
His face was solemn. Edward nodded. ‘I am prepared for the worst. And Susan?’
Is queen of the largest community of cut-throats ever assembled in one place.' Hilton's face split into that enormous grin. 'And beloved by all, so that she enjoys every minute of it.'
'And she was safely delivered?'
'And again. Both sons. We called the eldest Edward.'
And what colour hair has he got? Edward wanted to ask. ‘I, too, had a son. The Indians dashed out his brains.'
Hilton's fingers ate into his shoulder. 'You will have others, Ned, when there are no more Indians to trouble you. Why, Brian Connor, you old devil. Back to the fighting, eh?’
'And proud to serve under Captain Warner again, Mr Hilton, seeing as how ye're at his side.'
That goes for all of us. Well, Ned, your Father is looking anxious.'
They joined the other officers, who were peering upwards at the forested mountains, glowing in the midday sun; but already there were heavy clouds ringing the horizon, promising rain before night.
'You've a plan of campaign, I have no doubt,' Tom suggested.
‘It is dictated for us,' Edward said. 'We cannot use the forests as do the Caribs, so we must persuade them to attack us, and rely upon our superior strength at close quarters. You may be sure they know we have landed, and are at this moment watching us. Nor will they permit us a free passage through the forest, you may also be certain. So through the forest we shall go. We rely on the dogs for a while, and then, I have no doubt, our nostrils will guide us to the sulphur. We'll leave adequate crews for both vessels, but no one on the beach. John, will you take charge here?"
‘I had hoped to be in at the death.'
‘You may well be yet. I'd have you keep your cannon loaded, and should we return in haste, which could well happen, your fire will cover our embarkation. How many men will you need?"
'Give me thirty to each ship, and I'll fight them, and sail them home, too, if need be.'
Then our numbers are settled at four score for the expedition. Brian, your Irish will form the advance guard, with myself. Father, I'd be pleased if you'd command the main battle in the centre, with the people from John's ship. Tony, will your buccaneers bring up the rear, with yourself?' 'Willingly, if that is how you wish it.'
'Now there are things we must remember. First and foremost, we must keep up. We can afford no stragglers. Secondly, at the first alarm, drop to the ground and fire your pieces from there. The Indians' weapons have no long range, and should an arrow strike any one of us, be sure that our muskets, if fired soon enough, will send a ball twice as far as the archer. And there are enough of us to make the forest hum. The third point is a melancholy one, but is the most important of all. No man of us must be taken alive. Should anyone be too badly wounded to continue on the march, he must be prepared to end his own life on the instant. Believe me, the alternative is far more terrible.'
'But by the same token, we take no prisoners either,' Hilton growled.
'We are about a war, not a parade,' Edward agreed. 'Well, then, shall we fall to"
Without giving time for further argument, or further fearful glances at the forest, he commanded the dogs to be loosed, and followed them on the path leading upwards through the trees. Brian Connor immediately took his place at his shoulder, bearing the standard with the cross of St George, and the other five Irishmen were close behind.
' 'Tis strange how the wheel turns a full circle, Ted,' Brian muttered. 'Now we could be the Dons, armour and all.'
'Saving that we shall fall for no shallow devices. And that we must be certain there is a Carib village at the end of our march, and our dogs will find it.'
He spoke more confidently than he felt. And yet, was there no
t cause for confidence? The dogs ran in front of him, maintaining a steady baying as they cast from side to side of the path, and yet always scurrying upwards. Enough there to terrify the Indians, apart from the armoured mass coming behind. Yet surely Wapisiane would have anticipated nothing less than this, and would have made his preparations.
First of which, undoubtedly, was this forest. There was nothing like it in the more northerly islands. Here was a combination of the wet, clinging, Guyanese jungle with the unending, wearisome slopes of Mount Misery, only these hills did not even go uniformly upwards, but rather rose and then fell, sending the column up and down, undulating like a steel clad snake, while swords and pikes and muskets clanked against armour, and men cursed, and above the column there rose a cloud of steam as sweat dribbled down their faces and bodies and rose into the still air. After no more than an hour he was forced to call a halt, and permit the men to drink from the gourds of water they carried, and to rest for ten minutes, or he had no doubt they would be far too weary to carry out any command competently. So then, he decided, there can be little chance of deciding the issue this night.
'An empty forest,' Tom said. 'They will be waiting behind some easily defensible position, farther on.'
‘I doubt that, Father,' Edward said. 'The dogs show too much interest in the forest, on either side of this path.'
'No doubt because the forest is full of game.' Hilton had removed his helmet and emptied water over his head. ' 'Tis certain to me that our severest casualties will be caused by heat stroke.'
'Aye.' Tom mopped his brow. This is not a march I'd consider for longer than a day.'
Edward went back to the Irish, who were already on their feet.
'Ye'd think the varmints would have hit us by now,' Connor grumbled. 'We're well away from any support the ships can give us.'
Edward stared at the empty tree wall. Suppose Wapisiane did not mean to fight at all, but just to have them march forever, until they dropped from exhaustion and lack of food and water? But surely that was utterly unlike the Indian? The Carib fought wherever he could, but also whenever conditions were most suited to his style of fighting. So then, what conditions could be better than this concealing forest? Unless ... he discovered that the sun had disappeared, although it was yet only the middle of the afternoon. But the entire sky had become blotted out by the heavy black clouds. It was not the hurricane season, so the Indians could hardly be expecting more than a little rain. A little rain, by Christ, he thought, and hurried back down the column.
"You'll keep your powder dry should it rain,' he told the musketeers.
They gazed at him, and panted, and sweated. He must bring them to action soon, or what discipline they possessed would very rapidly disintegrate.
'We'll move on,' he told his father and Hilton, and took his place once again at the head of the column. The dogs were released, and went baying up the path. Now it was cooler, and yet not sufficiently so for true relief. And now the clouds were something to fear, as they stumbled forward.
'By Christ,' Connor said. 'But what is that?"
The dogs had smelt it too, and checked their baying, although they continued to cast around, as the dreadful, dead stench of the sulphur began to drift towards them.
The people of the smoke,' Edward said. 'Why, we are at their volcano.'
Tom had hurried forward, his face crimson, his breath coming in great pants. 'And it wants yet two hours to dark. 'You'll command a general assault, Ned.'
‘I suspect it is farther off than we hope or think,' Edward said. The smell will get stronger. But at least we know we are on the right path.'
Something struck him on the helmet with such force that he thought he had been hit by an arrow. He half turned, and looked up, and was hit another stinging blow on the face.
'Rain, by God,' he shouted. 'Halt. Halt the march. Stay close. Guard your powder.' But already he doubted his words were being heard, as the entire afternoon seemed to dissolve.
He had known ram like this, in Guyana. But only his father and Hilton were similarly experienced. For as in Guyana, there was no wind. Just the solid sheets of water which came pouring down, thudding on then helmets to shut out even the possibility of thought, much less conversation, crashing on to breastplates, driving into necks mid thighs,
trickling down boots, filling scabbards, and turning the earth beneadi their feet into a swamp as they crouched beneath the trees. Even the dogs had come scurrying back to their masters, and sat with hanging heads, bays exchanged for mournful wails. Again as in Guyana, time became irrelevant. They might have sat in the forest for an eternity, for days or months, or merely for a few minutes. The noise was incessant, seeming to raise a curtain around them, shutting out the rest of the island just as the teeming water shut out the heavens and most of the daylight. There was no hope of powder staying dry in this heavenly waterfall, and little hope of it drying for some hours afterwards, either. As the Indians would have known.
As the Indians would have known. The rain was slackening. It was possible to raise his head and look into the steaming green forest. So, had they ignored the march of the white men for this day, because they had known the rain would come? Or had they but postponed their attack?
He stood up. 'Loose those dogs, Brian. Send word back down the column to resume the march.'
' 'Tis still raining, Ted, lad,' Connor protested. 'Should we not wait a while longer?'
"That's what Wapisiane will be hoping,' Edward said. 'His bow strings will also have to be dried. We'll march, now. Loose those dogs.' He hurried back down the column himself, roused men to their feet with slaps and curses.
Even Tom Warner was slow to react. 'Youll press on now?' he demanded. 'We've no useful powder.'
'And Wapisiane will know that, Father. He will be using the rain as a weapon. We must march.'
He got them all on their feet at last, and hurried back up to the head of the column, panting, and each breath now searing his lungs as a slight breeze had arisen to chase away the last of the clouds, but at the same nine to blow gusts of pure sulphur across the forest.
The dogs remained unhappy, no longer baying with the confidence of an hour before, but staying closer together, and casting from side to side of the padi almost fearfully.
'People, you dunk?' Connor wanted to know.
'Could be just the sulphur. With the smell this strong we cannot be far away.'
Edward had not finished his sentence before he heard the hiss of the first arrow, and one of the Irishmen gave a cry. 'Down,' he yelled. 'Down. Pass the word back. Down.'
He threw himself full length on the sodden earth, jarring his shoulder against his cuirass, and watching an arrow thud into the bole of the tree before which he had just been standing. From farther back along the column there came shouts and curses, but whetiier they were caused by actual wounds or the discomforts of the earth he could not be sure.
'You'll get diose dogs back, Brian,' he said.
'Aye.' Connor commenced whistling, and the dogs came back tinough the bushes, but now there were only ten of them.
'Who was it hurt?' Brian demanded.
' 'Tis me, your honour. Gerald Murphy.'
‘Is is bad?' Edward asked.
'Sticking up out of me shoulder, your honour, and hurting like the devil.'
'We'll have it out in a moment. Keep down.'
But the arrows had stopped. Wapisiane was also waiting.
One of the sailors came crawling up the path, his knees making huge sucking noises every time they left the mud, his clothes and armour covered with the glutinous brown. 'Sir Thomas sends his compliments, Captain Warner,' he said. 'He wishes to know why we do not clear these savages from the bushes, if indeed they are as close as you suggested.'
'Because that is what Wapisiane hopes we will attempt,' Edward said. 'The arrows will do us little harm, but should we enter the forest hi small groups, we would become easy victims. Tell Sir Thomas to spare no effort to dry his powder.'
&n
bsp; ‘If such a thing is possible,' Connor grunted. 'Now then, Gerry me boy, it's coming out.'
Murphy uttered a thin wail. 'D'ye think it's poisoned, your honour? I have heard tell. ...'
'Spread about by the Dons, Gerald,' Edward reassured him. 'You'll survive, providing we stop that bleeding. Spare a piece of your shirt, Brian.'
'Oh, aye, my shirt, to be sure.'
They at least had suffered no diminution in morale. And neither, basically, had the dogs, who seemed glad of the rest, and lay on the wet earth panting and licking themselves. And now the arrows came again, whispering through the trees, striking branches and falling to the earth with gentle thuds.
Hilton came crackling through the bushes, also on his hands and knees. 'What sorry business is this, Ned?’ he demanded. 'Are we to lie here, skulking, before a pack of naked savages? That were no way to win a campaign.'
‘It is the only way to win this one, Tony,' Edward said. 'Patience. And ours is already proving the superior. Else why should Wapisiane waste his arrows on the empty air? Well move on the moment it gets dark.’
'You'd go through this forest at night? Why, man, that is suicide.'
'For whom? Do you imagine the Indians have some supernatural power which enables them to see in the dark?' They will certainly hear us.'
‘I am counting on it. Can you not understand? They will hear the tramp of armoured men, the baying of the dogs, coming ever closer, and yet have no certain knowledge of where we are. And we will be guided both by the dogs and by our own nostrils. Remember, they are fighting for their homes, against a force they count at least equal but more likely superior to their own. You must instil this into your people, Tony. We have no cause to fear them, and their puny sticks and arrows. But they know they have every cause to fear our steel and our lead and our dogs.'
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