Admiral

by Dudley Pope

  “The same goes for the Mercury,” Brace said. Red-headed and thin, the bones of his face angular, he was the taller of the two men. “Cursing the lack of taverns and whores though: they don’t have any use for money they can’t spend!” Brace was the only man present, apart from Thomas, who had a beard. But while Thomas’ beard was a thick black growth, the bottom of which Diana occasionally squared off with a carefully sharpened pair of scissors, Brace’s was pointed, neatly trimmed and combed several times daily. He had a special comb made from turtle shell and edged with silver, and which he kept in the top left-hand pocket of his jerkin. The point of the beard curled forward; Brace had a habit of twirling it between the first two fingers of his left hand. Pale of skin and his eyes deep-set and in the poor light seeming black, Brace was a man who smiled frequently and would sooner joke than give a serious answer – that was clear within a couple of minutes of him being introduced.

  Both Coles and Brace came from northern England. Yorkshire or Lancashire? Ned could not distinguish, and did not have time to ask before yet another blue-eyed, blond man was standing in front of him, hand outstretched, and repeating: “Gottlieb, Gottlieb, Gottlieb.”

  “You remember our Dutch friend,” Leclerc said. “Mr Gottlieb who owns the Dolphyn.”

  “Very good, very good,” Gottlieb said, and Ned realized that he was agreeing with what Cole and Brace had just said. The Dutchman had a flat face and his widely-spaced eyes and blond eyebrows gave him a perpetually startled appearance, as though dazzled by a bright light. Small but well built, Gottlieb gave the impression of quiet competence.

  Aurelia sat back in her chair and looked round at the six men in the cabin, marvelling at the circumstances that brought such different characters together. Leclerc, she suspected, was a French version of Thomas: a well-bred man who for reasons of his own had deliberately quit France. Was it religion? He could be a Protestant, and out here, among some of the islands, religion was of little consequence – or, rather, the Catholic priests had much less power and influence.

  The Dutchman was a typical refugee from the Spanish occupation of the Netherlands; he probably hated the Spanish for much more than “No peace beyond the Line”. He was a quiet man who said little: a blond version of Ned and, she suspected, as deceptive. Ned gave the impression of a calmness bordering on remoteness. She knew that to other people he often seemed a thousand miles away, yet once there was anything to be done he had a power of concentration which was frightening in its intensity. She guessed Thomas knew all this because over the past months he had seen Ned slowly change from the uncertain and harried young plantation owner to the man using his ship for smuggling in order to feed his people and finally becoming a buccaneer because – well, because there was no peace beyond the Line, and his enemies had been the Roundheads (until Cromwell died) and the Spanish. She also guessed that Diana knew all this instinctively, in the way that many women can look at a man and assess him as a lover.

  Yet what was this meeting now on board Perdrix all about? Why were they all gathered in this cabin? Thomas was so mysterious that Aurelia doubted if Diana had been able to do more than guess. Were the two of them eventually going to sail back to England, now the King was back on the throne? Aurelia was far from sure. Thomas seemed to want to go but Diana appeared determined to stay in the West Indies. Thomas commanded the Peleus – but she had been bought with Diana’s money.

  There seemed to be no particular reason for Thomas to go back: as Diana had pointed out to him with her usual candour, only his debtors would welcome him! There was no family estate; simply, she thought, that Thomas could imagine the fascination of court life with a new King and wanted to be part of it, overlooking that it would need money… It was indeed a Restoration: as Ned had commented, people could openly laugh and sing now, and wear bright clothes.

  For the next few months no doubt England would be an exciting place, with the people throwing off all the greyness brought down on them by the Puritans. Yes, life in Restoration England would be joyful and expensive, and Thomas had only his share of the Santiago purchase, while if Diana had any money left in England she would be wise to keep it out of Thomas’ hands.

  She looked across at Ned, who was laughing at something Leclerc had just said to Thomas. What was Ned finally going to do? He had the choice of either going back to Barbados and putting the plantation in order or continue buccaneering, making this new island of Jamaica a base. To her surprise (and disappointment) he had seemed rather cool towards Thomas’ notion of going on buccaneering, although admitting that Spain was still the enemy. Yet would Spain remain the enemy? Both Ned and Thomas were worried about these rumours, said to have originated from the Convertine’s captain, that the King’s long exile, much of it spent in Spain, meant that there would be a peace treaty as a return for Spain’s hospitality.

  Where, Aurelia asked herself bitterly, would that leave Jamaica, so recently captured from Spain? Would the Spanish king demand its return – even before Heffer had a chance to anglicise all the place names? Certainly it was a tiny island in the middle of Spanish territory…like a fly on the back of a bullock. But in time it could become a horsefly with a vicious sting. The Spanish king already knew that, though whether or not he would do anything was anyone’s guess.

  Anyway, she cared little for what the king of Spain decided. What concerned her in the next hour or so, sitting in this stuffy cabin listening to these droll fellows make proposals, was what Ned would decide: what would be their future? Had she persuaded him that she really had no interest in Barbados? That she hated Antigua? That she (like Diana) preferred this present almost gypsy existence afloat? Ned seemed unable to believe it; he gave an impatient shrug and assumed that she and Diana were merely being loyal to their men: “Whither thou goest…”

  Diana was nervous: Aurelia suddenly realized that with a shock. The Englishwoman was always so calm, whether with the enemy coming over the horizon or Thomas in one of his tantrums. It was an inner calm that came from complete confidence in herself. Like Ned’s calm in a way and, for a moment, she realized they were probably in some ways very much alike – outwardly calm and inwardly capable of almost frightening passion. She could not be certain about Diana, of course, but judging from Thomas’ infatuation with her and their obvious joy in each other’s company, it must be so. Was this outward calm a particularly English trait? Her late husband was just the opposite, but she chased the thought of him away; he had been a greedy, brutal schoolboy and now he was dead. And Leclerc was coughing, to get everyone’s attention.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, “only M. Yorke (and Mme. Wilson and Mlle. Diana, of course),” he added with a bow, “do not know why we are here today, but as it is important that M. Yorke understands our proposals and plans, I intend to start right at the beginning. First, M. Yorke and Sir Thomas, we thank you for inviting us to accompany you on the Santiago raid and the very satisfactory purchase it yielded. The important thing that expedition showed us, M. Yorke, is what we buccaneers can achieve if we act together and if we are properly led. You know what has been happening until now –”

  “I don’t,” Ned interrupted. “Apart from Sir Thomas, you are the first buccaneers I’ve ever met!”

  Leclerc looked startled and then laughed. “The irony of that escapes you for the moment, but I will point it out later. Well, we buccaneers are a mixture, but in the case of those of us here, we have fallen foul of the governments in our own countries – for religious or political reasons. And our attempts to trade in the West Indies have, as you know only too well, brought us up against Spain, which always says ‘No peace beyond the Line’ and refuses to allow us to trade. Legally, you understand!”

  Thomas chuckled. “The Spanish authorities’ actions keep the prices up for those of us who care to smuggle! If they allowed merchant ships to trade freely, it would bring in dozens of our countrymen, and prices would tumble rapidly!”

 
“Aye, I’d have to go back to England and carry sea coal down to London,” Brace said lugubriously.

  “Alors,” Leclerc said, “We must not forget we are by no means the only buccaneers afloat. To resume my narration, M. Yorke, we happened to hear that some of Cromwell’s soldiers had captured Jamaica, so we sailed over to investigate and met Sir Thomas, whom we already knew.”

  Ned held up his hand to interrupt Leclerc. “Where are the other buccaneers, then?”

  “Their base? At La Tortue – Tortuga, you call it, the turtle, a small island off the northwestern corner of Hispaniola. Not far from here – just across the Windward Passage. It’s sheltered, and because that end of Hispaniola is thick jungle and mountains, the Spanish cannot attack us by land, and they certainly don’t have the ships.”

  “Yet,” said Thomas, “the good King Carlos may spend some money on new ships.”

  “We should get a warning in good time,” Leclerc said. “That is the least of our worries.”

  “What is the biggest of them?” Ned asked, curious.

  “Leave that for a moment,” Leclerc said. “Let me finish describing the buccaneers. There are about twenty-one other ships, mostly English or French, but some Dutch, two Portuguese and one Spanish, with crews varying between twenty and a hundred.”

  “I’ve heard the name ‘The Brethren of the Coast’ mentioned,” Ned said.

  Leclerc smiled. “That’s the name given us originally by our enemies and which we have adopted – with pride! And that brings me to your question. Our biggest worry at the moment is finding a leader.”

  Aurelia did a quick sum in her head. They had twenty-five ships altogether – the twenty-one in Tortuga and the four here – with between twenty and a hundred men on board each of them… Say an average of fifty. That meant about 1,250 “Brethren of the Coast”. She knew now why Thomas had given no details and why they were sitting here in Perdrix’s cabin.

  “No leader among more than a thousand men?” Ned sounded incredulous.

  “No. The four captains here – myself, Gottlieb, Coles and Brace – have all been asked to become the admiral of the Brethren.”

  “Why did you all refuse?”

  “Speaking for myself – but I know it is the same for my fellow captains – we do not have the necessary courage to make decisions which affect the lives (and possible deaths) of more than a thousand of our fellow buccaneers. We will gladly follow; we are reluctant to lead. To decide, rather.”

  Ned pointed to Thomas, who promptly shook his head. “I’ve been asked and refused,” he said. “Leclerc was speaking for me too.”

  “One of you is going to have to take the job or else the buccaneers will fall apart like a leaderless flock of –” Ned broke off.

  “Sheep,” Leclerc said. “You are quite correct. That is why only four ships left Tortuga to see what was happening at Jamaica: the rest could not make up their minds. I’m happy to say that now there are fewer to share the purchase!”

  Aurelia saw that Ned was considering the question in the same way he had considered the attack on Santiago: that it was a puzzle which must have a solution, if only one thought hard enough.

  Leclerc coughed and Ned looked up as the Frenchman said: “Whoever we recomend to the Brethren would of course be elected. Would you become our admiral, M. Yorke?”

  Back on board the Griffin Ned was angry, although far from sure why. He told Thomas, for the fifth or sixth time: “You might have warned me that they intended to propose this straight away!”

  “What difference does it make?” said an exasperated Thomas. “You don’t have to give an answer until tomorrow.”

  “I know but –”

  “But what?” Aurelia asked innocently. “You just have to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

  “Just ‘yes’ or ‘no’ – it isn’t as easy as that!”

  Diana said sympathetically: “Why not just think aloud, Ned? It always seems to help Thomas reach a decision.”

  Ned stood up abruptly and began pacing the length of the cabin. “It’s not just a question of saying ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to being the leader of the Brethren. It’s deciding whether to go back to Barbados as a planter or stay here to be a pirate.”

  “I say, ‘pirate’ is a strong word, Ned,” protested Thomas. “We’re fighting the Spaniards. Don’t forget you might settle down in Barbados and then have your estate burned down by the Dons and no one could do anything about it. What the Brethren do is buccaneering, Ned. And as far as I can see, the buccaneers are going to have to defend Jamaica and the rest of the islands for the next few years. The King won’t be able to send out any frigates for a long time: his Treasury is empty and anyway the navy doesn’t have many seaworthy ships left – that much I discovered from the Convertine’s captain.”

  “You sound as though you’ve made up your mind to stay out here buccaneering,” Ned said.

  “Buccaneering or buying land in Jamaica,” Diana said, answering for Thomas, and Aurelia felt he was being told. “We are not going back to England, whatever grand ideas Thomas might parade in his cups.”

  Aurelia nodded because Diana had already explained to her while they changed their clothes after returning from the Perdrix. The Trade winds were kicking up a lop in the anchorage which had soaked them in spray, and Aurelia had lent her a dress which, since the Frenchwoman was much slimmer, emphasized Diana’s more voluptuous figure.

  Although Thomas would never admit it, Diana had said, he could never settle down in England, no matter what he thought now. He needed an active life and plenty of challenges, and would be forced to seek the excitement on horseback, hunting, and in the gaming rooms. Here Diana had commented: “I persuaded him that chasing a stag or rolling dice hardly compares with blowing up castles or fighting the Dons, and furthermore it costs money, while buccaneering gives us a good income.”

  Aurelia realized that Thomas was lucky to have a woman who not only understood him, but loved the life he needed to live. Who had really made the final decision, Diana or Thomas? One thing was sure: Diana was not going to let Thomas get near enough to the gaming tables to lose the Peleus in a rash bet! Lose the ship and perhaps their lives in a raid on the Spaniards, yes; lose a penny at the gaming tables to some pallid youngster whose bets were backed by an inherited fortune, no!

  Aurelia also realized that Diana, like her, had guessed what London must be like during this first year or so of the Restoration: a sudden surge of gaiety to make up for the years of enforced Puritan dreariness; a false and brittle brilliance because most of the aristocracy had spent years in exile and were now almost strangers in their own country: Englishmen and women with a veneer of French or Spanish manners and attitudes, impatient with those who had stayed in England and must now be stunned at the swift change from gloom to gaiety.

  So the decision was made for Diana and Thomas, but Ned was still wrestling with it, and he was wrestling alone because since they had all returned from the Perdrix, he and Aurelia had not been able to talk. Aurelia could have made an opportunity – and Diana and Thomas were sensitive people who would need only the gentlest of hints. Yet Aurelia had deliberately not made the opportunity; she wanted Ned to reach his decision alone.

  Barbados or the Brethren…

  Leclerc, she recalled, had said that if Ned chose to be their leader, they would be preparing almost at once for an expedition against the Spanish the like of which the Caribbean had never seen…

  At first, Aurelia had been surprised at Leclerc mentioning it (whatever it was) at this stage, when Ned was still undecided, but she realized, during the row back to the Griffin, that the Frenchman and his companions only wanted Ned as their leader if he knew he could lead: the attack on Santiago had been his first and perhaps, from the buccaneers’ point of view, there might have been an element of chance; he might have been carried along by events.
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br />   Ned suddenly stopped his pacing and, glaring down at Thomas, exclaimed: “There’s not just one plantation at Barbados, you know! There are two, Aurelia’s and Kingsnorth.”

  “I know, I know,” said Thomas calmly, “and every day the land is getting more overgrown and the termites are eating up the houses. But tell me, all those Roundhead gentlemen who were after your blood and your land while Uncle Oliver was alive – have they miraculously turned Royalist now the King is back and decided to welcome you back with roisterous parties and offers of help?”

  “How do I know?” Ned snapped.

  “You can guess, Ned,” Diana said quietly, and Thomas said: “It doesn’t seem to have changed people here. Changed their official allegiances, yes; Heffer’s a good example of that. But Heffer and his ilk are still Puritans and Republicans at heart. Once a psalm-singing hypocrite, then always a psalm-singing hypocrite. Here in Jamaica,” he pointed out, slapping his knee for emphasis, “you and I have power because this island needs ships for its defence, and we’ve got ’em. Or at least Heffer thinks he needs ’em, which is the same thing, so what we say matters. But what sort of a mess is there in Barbados, which has a House of Assembly and political parties to complicate matters? It will take a year or two to settle down.

  “You can be sure that the Convertine’s captain calling in and giving a hail that the King is restored to the throne has not yet made the island safe for Royalists. Why, if you go back within the next year – before more Royalists have come out from England, and that’s going to take time – I wouldn’t put down a bet that they won’t arrest you the moment you land on the island, Restoration or no.”

  “What the devil for?”

  “Come on, Ned,” Thomas growled. “You and Saxby fought your way out with the Griffin. Were no Roundhead soldiers killed? They could charge you with the murder of each and every one of them, wounding Aurelia’s late husband, treason…the charges are limited only by an attorney-general’s imagination… Don’t let’s fall into the trap of trusting politicians, whether Republican or Royalist.”