Claim the Kingdom

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Claim the Kingdom Page 29

by John Fletcher


  They smiled at each other and drank.

  ‘I have a proposition to put to you, Captain. What do you think about taking a cargo to London?’

  Pike frowned thoughtfully. ‘John Company won’t like it.’

  ‘They have no right to prevent the colony from trading with England direct.’

  ‘They don’t agree with you. What happens if they impound my ship?’

  ‘We fight them in the courts.’

  ‘Takes time and money. And no guarantee we’ll win.’

  Cash drained his glass and put it on the desk. ‘No guarantees in this business, Captain. You know that.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean we have to load the dice against us.’

  ‘We win,’ Cash said, ‘we’ll have all the London merchants on our side. Enough to make us both rich. Plus we’ll have broken the monopoly!’

  ‘Aye. If we win.’

  ‘The time is right.’ Cash’s enthusiasm bubbled through him. ‘This colony is going to grow. Nothing will stop it. We must get rid of all the old restraints now.’

  ‘Easy to talk,’ Pike said. ‘It’s my ship’s on the line.’

  ‘We do it, I’ll have everything on the line, Captain. It’s worth it. London’s the biggest market in the world. Of course, if you’re not interested …’

  ‘How many skins you got?’

  ‘Nine thousand. Plus two hundred tons of sea-elephant oil.’

  Pike shook his head. ‘We need another four thousand skins to make up the cargo. I’ll not risk my ship for anything less than a full cargo, Mr Tremain!’

  ‘I don’t expect you to, Captain. I’ve a plan how to get around that.’ He explained how he hoped to use the convict rookeries on the islands of the Southern Ocean to supply more skins and oil. ‘Pelican’s down there now. Everything goes well, she’ll be back in another ten days.’

  Pike grinned, shaking his head. ‘Tremains trading with convicts,’ he marvelled. ‘What did your father have to say about that?’

  ‘I persuaded him it was a good idea.’

  ‘Did you, by God?’ Pike sat back in his chair, smiling. ‘I’ll say this for you, Mr Tremain, you’ve grown a foot since I saw you last.’

  ‘I’ve been south myself,’ Cash said. ‘Hard country. You grow up fast down there.’

  Pike considered. ‘It would be good to fly in the face of the Company, by God it would! What are our chances would you say?’

  ‘I’d say very good, Captain. London doesn’t want to go on paying out money for this colony any longer than it must.’

  ‘The Company’s got influence.’

  ‘It has. But once the government understands that giving us direct access to British ports will help make New South Wales self-supporting, they’re bound to support us.’

  Pike stroked his chin. ‘Might be worth it, at that. If the rates are right.’

  Cash’s muscles tightened. He had to offer Pike the right amount. Enough to make it worth his while but not too much. Being too generous would reduce his own profits and Pike’s respect for him, and that, ultimately, would be more serious.

  He had deliberately not gone to Gough for advice. If he got into the habit of running to his father about every problem, he would never learn to think for himself. He had to make his own decisions and abide by them, for good or ill.

  Remembering how Gough and Pike had haggled the first time he’d been in this cabin, Cash took a deep breath and said, ‘Normal East Asian charter rates plus fifteen per cent.’

  Pike laughed. ‘Another tot?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  This time, Pike fetched the bottle.

  ‘I dare say you would like me to risk my ship and cargo for a fifteen per cent premium.’ He refilled their glasses. ‘Twenty-five per cent premium plus ten per cent of profits.’

  ‘Not logical, Captain,’ Cash said, heart beating fast. ‘Extra risk is the only reason for claiming a premium. You want a share of profits, you can’t be too worried about risk, so why ask a premium?’

  It took an hour and most of the rum but in the end they settled for a seventeen per cent premium, five per cent of all profits and a guarantee that Cash would fund half the cost of a new vessel if the Company succeeded in confiscating Centaur.

  I’ll be bankrupt, he thought. Without that cargo, I’ll have nothing. But it had to be done. If he hadn’t been willing to accept a share of the risk, Pike wouldn’t have agreed to go. Besides, why should they fail?

  He went ashore, arms swinging as he strode along the water’s edge.

  Sunlight fell impartially on the blue waters of the harbour, the dusty paths and grassy slopes. The wharf was busy. A number of boats were unloading where a chain of convicts was transferring goods to a warehouse. Bare-chested and sweating in the strong sunlight, they tossed barrels from one to the other as though they contained nothing heavier than air. The bronzed skins of the convicts and the blue jerseys and earrings of the sailors contrasted with the clothes of the passers-by – the coats and breeches of the men, red jackets of the soldiers, the yellow, blue and green dresses of the few women. Energy poured out with the sunlight. Cartwheels clattered, voices shouted, gulls screamed and scolded; everywhere there was movement and colour and noise.

  Cash dodged between the chain of convicts, narrowly avoided a barrel on its way out of a lighter’s hold, and almost collided with Jane Somers.

  It was the first time he had seen her since he got back. He saw an expression of pleasure brighten her features momentarily and as quickly vanish.

  ‘Miss Somers,’ he declared robustly, ‘I had been hoping to meet you.’

  Her dark eyes assessed him. She was wearing an emerald green gown that suited her. Her mouth did not smile. ‘You should be pleased, then, because now you have.’

  ‘I have been remiss in not calling on you. My only excuse is that my time has not seemed my own since I got back.’

  ‘I had not realised you were back,’ she told him.

  ‘Several weeks now.’

  ‘And busy all that time?’ She smiled sweetly. ‘I trust that means your business is going well?’

  ‘Very well. Thank you.’

  ‘And did you enjoy your voyage south?’

  ‘I have so much to tell you about that,’ he said. ‘Perhaps it will be possible to see you soon?’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘We are at the same address, Mr Tremain. There is nothing to stop you if you wish to call.’

  ‘The last time I called I was sent away.’

  ‘Then you must decide if my company is worth that risk, Mr Tremain, must you not?’

  And swept away, nose in air.

  He watched her make her way through the crowds, parasol protecting her face from the hot sunlight, emerald skirts swirling about her feet. Too arrogant by half as always, he thought, but fun to be with. For the present, anyway. I might just call on her, at that.

  That evening, Cash gave Gough details of his deal with Silas Pike.

  ‘Probably as good as you could get,’ his father said. ‘Long journey, though. England and back: ’twill be a year before we can hope to see him again. At best, mind, at best. If the Company takes his boat, we may never see him at all. When’s he leaving?’

  ‘Depends when Doggett gets back with more skins.’

  Gough grunted peevishly, disliking the idea of using escaped convicts but saying nothing.

  ‘Pike’ll need to watch out for that East Indiaman,’ he said. ‘Owen’s the sort with eyes everywhere. You’d better keep your eye on Hagwood, too. He reckons he’s got a score to settle with us, the way we got Silas Pike away from him. Wouldn’t put it past him to tip Owen off, he thinks he’s got something to tell him.’

  ‘We’ll be loading down the coast, same as last time. No danger, there. Mind you, I wonder if it’s worth it. It makes things a lot more difficult and there’s always the possibility that the pelts will get stolen.’

  ‘Tes better to stick with that inlet,’ Gough said. ‘It keeps eyes off our business, f
or one thing. And I tell you straight, I don’t trust that Owen. Too damn good at looking in corners.’

  ‘We’ll carry on using it, then.’ Cash had something else to discuss. ‘Before I went south we said something about my getting a place of my own.’

  Gough laughed. ‘Need a bit more space, that it? Away from your old father?’

  ‘It’ll be better for both of us.’

  Gough’s sardonic eye sparkled. ‘Thinking of taking young Cuddy with you?’

  ‘Do you object?’

  ‘Tes Cuddy’s life, not mine. Bear one thing in mind though. You take her there, there’ll be talk. I know, I’ve had it myself. Deserved it, too, I dare say, though never in your mother’s time, mind.’

  ‘I can handle that,’ Cash said.

  ‘Don’t be too hasty about it. Like it or not, you’ve got the family fortunes in your hands now. Jack runs the farm, you make the money. That’s what we agreed. Remember, you got to have a good name. Forfeit that, you’re dead and gone, my son, dead and gone. Some people won’t like it, they think you’re setting up shop with a convict lass.’

  ‘My private life is my own.’

  ‘Never in a little place like this. Everyone’s business is everyone else’s. I’m not saying don’t do it, mind. I’m just saying think before you move.’

  ‘She would be working for me,’ Cash said impatiently. ‘No more than that.’ Wondering if that were true.

  Gough snorted. ‘Might as well go the whole hog while you’re about it. Everyone will believe you are, anyway, so you might as well make the most of it.’

  *

  Cash said, ‘I am planning to move into my own place within the next few days. I wondered if you would be willing to come and act as my housekeeper?’

  Cuddy scowled at the corner of the room. Her fingers picked nervously at her lower lip. ‘You’d best be sending me back.’

  Rays of sunlight slanted through the windows on either side of the door and lay on the few sticks of furniture in the small sitting room. Outside a gull shrieked protestingly and was silent.

  ‘Mrs Clark speaks well of you.’

  ‘You ’eard what ’appened, I suppose.’ Defiantly, answering a challenge he had not made.

  ‘I heard you were attacked. By someone whose face you say you couldn’t see.’

  ‘Can’t see in the dark, can I?’

  ‘You were raped?’

  ‘Weren’t my idea, I’ll tell you that.’ A pause. ‘Not that anyone believes me, o’ course.’

  ‘I do believe you. I also believe you saw who it was.’

  ‘No!’ Panicking. ‘I never!’

  ‘Be quiet,’ he said impatiently. ‘You think I don’t understand why you choose to keep quiet?’

  An expression of horror crossed her face. He did not understand why and it fuelled his exasperation. ‘If you talk, you think you may be killed for it. But if you tell me, that won’t happen. And it might prevent your being attacked again.’

  Obstinately, she shook her head. ‘I didn’ see nuffin.’

  He refused to waste time. If she wouldn’t tell him, so be it.

  ‘Let me ask you another question. Are you recovered?’

  She nodded. Certainly, he could see no bruises – not on her face. Bruises of the mind were a different story.

  ‘Is there any reason why you would not wish to come and work for me? I shall have no problem getting you officially allocated to me, if that’s worrying you. No one will have the right to take you away without my permission.’

  ‘What ’appens when you’re sick of me?’

  ‘Why should I be sick of you if you look after my cottage properly? In any case, I shall be legally responsible for you. I can’t simply turn you out even if I do get sick of you.’

  ‘If I want to go?’

  ‘If you find someone you’d sooner work for, I shall have you transferred to that person.’

  ‘What if I want to go back to Parramatta?’

  ‘To your old life? I wouldn’t recommend it but, if that’s what you want – and I shall take a deal of convincing – I can have you allotted to Ira Thornton.’ He looked at her closely. ‘Would you really prefer that?’

  ‘Not to ’im, no.’ Whispering.

  ‘Then what are we talking about? Will you come with me or not? Speak up, girl.’

  ‘People will talk.’

  ‘Like they talk about my father and Maud Clark, you mean? Let them talk.’

  TWENTY-TWO

  Later that evening, a thin, lantern-jawed man in dark clothing walked along the waterfront past the line of buildings on the western side of Sydney Cove.

  There were plenty of people about. Three new taverns had opened recently and all were well patronised by the sailors from the ships in the harbour. There were convicts, too, male and female, as well as emancipists and off-duty soldiers. The sounds of laughter, of voices raised in song and argument, flowed through the open doors of the taverns with the feeble glimmer of light from the oil lamps that burned inside. The wave of sound and light was extinguished as it reached the edge of the water. Beyond this point, the waiting continent absorbed every sound, every glimmer of light, into its prodigious, brooding darkness.

  The man moved steadily through the crowd until, bending his head to pass beneath the low lintel, he entered the building at the end of the row.

  Inside, the noise and heat hit him. Twenty or thirty people – talking, shouting, drinking, laughing – were jammed into the low-ceilinged room. Facing the door was a counter behind which two well-muscled men, eyes seamed with scar tissue, filled measures of spirit from the spigoted barrels that lined the rear wall. Oil lamps shed a guttering light and the air was blue with tobacco smoke.

  The thin man squeezed his way between the throng of drinkers like a shadow passing across the light. He beckoned to the nearer of the two bartenders and, leaning forward, spoke softly in his ear. The man gestured with his chin towards one corner of the room where a group of sailors from Centaur was seated with some women in tawdry plumage.

  The man went across to them.

  They had been talking and laughing together but, as the stranger arrived, silence fell on the group. They looked up at him, their blue-jerseyed bodies, massive chests and weathered faces proclaiming their calling.

  The biggest of the men, shaven-headed, with huge shoulders and no neck, stared up at the stranger with piggy eyes.

  ‘Looking for someone, are you?’

  The accent was Irish, the voice polite enough, yet a stillness fell over the crowded room as the two men faced each other.

  ‘Cormac Reilly?’ the man said into the silence. Another Irish accent. ‘Would that be you, by any chance?’

  ‘Who wants to know?’

  ‘Someone who wants a word. In private. If you’re the man I’m looking for.’

  An unspoken message passed between the two men. Abruptly, Reilly stood. ‘Back in a minute,’ he said to his mates. He shouldered his way through the crowd towards the door, the black-suited man following in his wake.

  Outside, Reilly turned to face him. ‘Now, who might you be, anyway?’

  ‘My name is Duggan,’ the thin man said. ‘Mr Thornton sent me.’

  ‘Thornton?’ the mate repeated. He spat deftly past Duggan’s legs onto the roadway. ‘Too big a gent these days to come himself, is he?’

  Duggan ignored the question. ‘Mr Thornton is hoping you can do him a favour.’

  ‘And what sort of favour might that be?’

  Duggan put a hand on Reilly’s big arm and drew him further into the shadows. At their feet, the waters of the Cove sloshed and sighed.

  ‘He wants to know when Centaur’s sailing. And where.’

  ‘How am I supposed to tell him that? I’ve no idea where we’re headed. Or when.’

  ‘But you will.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Cautiously, admitting nothing.

  ‘You’re the mate,’ Duggan persisted. ‘Of course you’ll know.’

  ‘Why’s he
asking?’

  ‘I suppose that’s his business,’ Duggan said easily.

  A group of drinkers, men and women, staggered out of the tavern, their shadows lurching across the timbers of the wharf. They clung to each other for a moment, laughing. In the night air, their clothes were redolent of smoke, spilled liquor, grease.

  Reilly and Duggan fell silent until the group had swayed its way off and disappeared between two of the buildings.

  Duggan said, ‘Mr Thornton asked you a favour once before. A matter of a girl. You wouldn’t help him, you remember.’

  ‘Not wouldn’t. Couldn’t. What he asked was impossible.’

  Duggan worked his shoulders beneath the dark coat. ‘Perhaps. He says he hopes you can oblige him on this occasion.’

  Reilly scratched his shaven head. A cunning expression crossed his face. ‘He offered me fifty guineas that time.’

  ‘Which you declined. However, Mr Thornton is not ungenerous.’

  He extended his hand. Coins chinked as Reilly took them. He looked down at his open palm. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Two guineas.’

  A flare of anger. ‘Hell of a difference from fifty, isn’t it?’

  ‘You were offered fifty because of the risk involved. There is no risk in this.’

  ‘There’s always risk.’

  ‘A minimal risk for which two guineas is more than adequate compensation.’ Duggan thrust his bleak face towards Reilly. ‘The risk you need to worry about is what happens if you do not deliver. I strongly recommend you don’t try it.’

  He turned on his heel and walked away through the crowd.

  Reilly watched him go. He looked again at the coins in his hand, cursed under his breath and went back into the tavern.

  *

  The next morning, on the wharf, Silas Pike also had an unexpected encounter.

  ‘Safely back, I see, Captain.’

  Owen’s voice and manner smacked too much of the quarterdeck for Pike’s taste. He nodded.

  ‘Went to the Cape, I hear?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  The tide was high and the light breeze sent waves slapping against the piles beneath their feet.

 

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