Black Heart of Jamaica

  Bonaventure was striding to and fro in front of a line of bound men, all of whom looked battle-scarred and angry: the survivors of the Merry Meg. He was speaking in rapid French, waving a piece of paper in front of the nose of the largest of the men – the captain, I assumed. Tivern was built like a barn: a wild crop of black hair, broad shoulders, thick neck, fleshy face, and fists like hams. Next to him stood the man who had chased me up the mast – not someone I wanted to meet again. I moved closer to hear what was happening.

  ‘Rifles!’ Bonaventure was declaring. ‘You, monsieur, take arms to the enemies of France!’

  ‘You have no to show of that,’ muttered Tivern in poor French.

  ‘I have your letter of understanding with the rebels.’ Bonaventure flourished the note. ‘Taken from your own cabin. Six hundred rifles and a hundred boxes of ammunition, powder, et cetera, et cetera. Do you know the penalty for gun running?’

  ‘No.’ Tivern looked mutinous.

  ‘A life spent in prison – or on a plantation. I hear prison is more comfortable.’ Bonaventure licked his upper lip, his expression that of a cat whose whiskers drip with cream.

  Behind this impromptu court, the crew of the Medici began transferring the rifles to their hold. Billy gave me a wink.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Tivern asked, his fists clenching.

  ‘Commandeering the evidence.’

  ‘Stealing, you mean.’ Suspicions roused, Tivern glanced around him. His eyes fell on me standing next to Billy. ‘Wait a moment, this is no government ship.’

  ‘Non?’ Bonaventure frowned. ‘And I thought it was going so well.’ He gave a Gallic shrug of resignation.

  ‘I saw that girl on stage in Kingston.’ Tivern jerked his head towards me. ‘What would she be doing on a customs vessel?’

  ‘Mademoiselle Royal’s business is no concern of yours,’ Bonaventure said smoothly.

  ‘Miss Royal?’ The pieces were falling into place for Tivern. ‘You didn’t know about the arms, did you? It was the boy. You want the boy.’ He stood up straighter. ‘I have a letter for her.’

  ‘For me?’ I squeaked in excitement. ‘From Pedro?’ So he did think to send me a note!

  Tivern switched to English. ‘Aye, for you. If you get this pirate here to untie me, I’ll give it to you.’

  Not trusting the smuggler further than I could throw him, I glanced at Bonaventure uncertainly. This annoyed Tivern.

  ‘Ain’t it enough that he’s stolen my guns? All that rubbish about putting me in gaol – I don’t believe a word of it. He’s a thief – a pirate.’

  I refrained from pointing out that it took one to know one.

  ‘You can tell him he’s won this round, but I’ll get my revenge next time.’

  ‘I speak English, monsieur,’ Bonaventure slipped in with his vulture smile.

  ‘A damn sight better than I speak French, I’ve no doubt.’ Tivern’s resentment was growing and I feared that he would withhold the message out of spite.

  ‘My letter!’ I pleaded.

  ‘Bien sur, mademoiselle.’ Bonaventure turned to the crewmen guarding the prisoners. ‘Return them to their ship. I will detain Captain Tivern but a moment longer.’

  The captives were led away. I approached Tivern warily.

  ‘Captain, what have you done with Pedro?’ I asked.

  Tivern gave me an assessing look but didn’t answer the question. ‘You were the wench up in the rigging. My bosun told me about you, said you slipped down the ropes like a monkey, but I didn’t believe him. Where did you learn to climb like that?’

  ‘Same place as Pedro.’

  Billy gripped my shoulder – I hadn’t realized he was hovering just behind me.

  ‘What the ’ell were you doin’ on deck during the fightin’, Cat Royal?’

  ‘Do you know you sound just like Syd when you talk to me like that?’ I brushed his hand off. ‘It really doesn’t suit you.’

  Tivern seemed amused by our exchange. It was fortunate that his anger at Bonaventure did not appear to stretch to me. He grimaced at Billy. ‘Who do you think spoiled my little attempt to board behind your backs? This wench here rang the bell before I could get to her.’

  ‘That was you, Cat?’ Billy clearly didn’t know whether to admire or curse me for my foolhardiness.

  ‘Yes. I told you I wanted to help. My letter?’

  Billy gave a bark of laughter and held his hands high. ‘I give up. You’re too much even for me to ’andle. Give the girl her message or she’ll plague you to death, Tivern.’

  The smuggler flicked his eyes to me; I moved a step away. ‘Untie me first. I can’t reach it without my hands free,’ he demanded.

  ‘Actually, Billy, maybe this can wait.’ My instincts warned me that Tivern was planning something.

  Distracted by the sight of the weapons being offloaded, Billy patted me on the shoulder absent-mindedly. ‘It’s all right, Cat. ’E don’t ’ave a weapon – ’e’s been searched.’

  ‘Perhaps if he gave it to you?’

  ‘No, I promised the boy I’d put it in your hands,’ Tivern said with an unconvincing air of self-righteousness.

  Billy shrugged. ‘You’ve come all this way, don’t you want that letter?’

  ‘Of course, but –’

  Billy sliced through Tivern’s bonds and waved him on. ‘Give the girl what she wants.’

  The smuggler reached inside his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

  ‘I left the lad on Tortuga. He asked me to make sure you got this.’

  ‘So he’s safe?’ I took a step closer, eager to have the evidence that Pedro was alive.

  ‘If he ain’t now, that’s none of my doing. I was going that way so I delivered him as he asked. A clever fellow – he entertained us all voyage. The crew didn’t want to let him go.’

  My face broke into a smile. Of course, Pedro’s gift as a musician had saved him from any poor treatment – I should have guessed. Half my worries had been for naught.

  ‘So he’s really all right?’

  ‘Got some damned fool idea to fight for Toussaint, but other than that he’s safe enough.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear it.’

  My fingers brushed the edge of the letter. Suddenly, Tivern struck, yanking me to his chest and relieving me of the dagger I’d earlier tucked into my sash and forgotten. Billy muttered an oath, made to move forward, but froze when he saw that Tivern had no intention of releasing his hostage. Billy held up his hands in a placatory gesture.

  ‘Let the girl go, Tivern. Bonaventure was about to return you to your ship – you’ll gain nothing by this.’

  ‘My guns, mate. Tell him to put them back or she gets it.’

  ‘Do you think he cares what you do with that troublesome bit of baggage?’ Billy waved at me dismissively. I glared at him, making sure he knew whom I blamed for releasing Tivern in the first place.

  ‘Let’s find out, shall we?’ Tivern grasped me by the waist and carried me to the rail. Billy followed and gave a piercing whistle.

  ‘Oi! Bonaventure! We’ve got a problem.’

  The French captain looked up from the task of unloading the Merry Meg and frowned.

  ‘How –?’

  ‘Does it matter?’ Billy shouted back in exasperation. ‘He wants the guns or he’ll kill her.’

  With catlike agility, Bonaventure scaled the plank connecting the two ships.

  ‘So, monsieur, you take little girls captive now. Is there no end to your cowardice?’ he asked disdainfully.

  ‘It’s business,’ Tivern said, a little defensive. ‘Don’t make a habit of it but what do you expect?’

  ‘A little more gallantry perhaps? But no, you Anglo-Saxons were ever the boors of Europe.’

  The insult made Tivern’s grip on my waist tighten, squeezing the air from my lungs.

  ‘If you don’t mind,’ I gasped, ‘could you save the discussion for later? Just now I’d like this situation resol
ved peacefully.’

  ‘Listen to the little lady. I’m not a patient man,’ added Tivern.

  ‘How did this happen?’ Bonaventure asked Billy, ignoring my protest. I felt no more significant than a sack of meal.

  Billy ran his hand through his hair in frustration, incredulous that he had let the smuggler get one over on him. ‘Brainless female had a blade in her sash. When she got close enough, he grabbed it.’

  ‘Only after you cut him free,’ I snapped, thinking Billy’s explanation cast my part in far too unflattering a light. I was already cursing myself for forgetting the weapon, but then I was not used to going about with daggers in my belt – that was more Billy’s style.

  ‘Now here’s what I’m going to do,’ announced Tivern, none too pleased to be excluded from our bickering when he thought it should be his grand moment of turning the tables. ‘I’m going to take her back to my ship and watch while you put my cargo back in the hold. When I’m satisfied, I’ll cast off and resume my voyage. You will not interfere.’

  ‘And the girl?’ Billy asked.

  ‘I’ll let her go when I’m sure you won’t trouble me again.’

  ‘Non.’ Captain Bonaventure’s single syllable cut through Tivern’s self-satisfaction like a hot knife through butter.

  ‘What!’ I squawked.

  ‘Take the girl if you like but I’m not giving you the guns.’ He turned his back on Tivern in contempt and strode away. Billy took one look at me then set off in pursuit.

  The smuggler flushed with rage. Realizing he had met with a cold-hearted scoundrel like himself who wasn’t going to give even an inch, he muttered an oath then bundled me along the plank and on to the deck of his ship, shoving a sailor out of his path. Forced to drop his load, the sailor lost his balance and tumbled into the water, now in serious danger of being squashed between the two vessels as they rode the waves. Thankfully, the last glimpse I had was of him hauling himself hand over hand up the Medici’s anchor cable.

  With a glance into the hold, Tivern quickly ascertained that half the guns were still on board the Merry Meg. Maintaining a death grip on my neck, he sliced through the ropes tying his men. Bonaventure gave no signal to stop him. I could see the Frenchman watching us coolly from the wheel of the Medici, taking no steps to help or hinder Tivern as he resumed control. The smugglers’ bosun hacked through the ropes tethering the vessels together and the two ships slowly began to drift apart. The last members of the Medici leapt overboard to avoid being stranded among an enemy crew.

  My gaze raked the deck of my ship, desperate to see some sign that Bonaventure wasn’t really going to abandon me like this, but there were no preparations to come to my rescue. Billy was arguing with the captain, fists bunched, yet the Frenchman was unmoved, happy to accept three hundred rifles in exchange for one useless passenger. As I watched, Billy lost control of his temper and threw a punch at Bonaventure. The Frenchman went down, but sprang up immediately and ordered Billy to be restrained by two crewmen and dragged below.

  Thus ended their friendship.

  That would teach me to sail with pirates.

  Tivern seemed almost to have forgotten he was still holding me as he issued orders to make sail. I was in no hurry to remind him so remained quiet, dangling like a doll in his iron grip. When more than a thousand yards separated us from the Medici, he suddenly remembered me and dropped me to my feet, tucking the dagger into his belt. His expression was murderous. I’d proved almost useless as a hostage – he was sure to think me of no further value. It looked as though I was about to be jettisoned.

  ‘I’m . . . er . . . sorry,’ I blurted out.

  Surprised out of his anger, Tivern raised a bushy black eyebrow. ‘You’re sorry?’

  I nodded. ‘Sorry that Captain Bonaventure didn’t care more for me than the guns. That’s French gallantry for you.’ I attempted a wry smile.

  Tivern burst into laughter and slapped me on the back with his meaty palm. I staggered.

  ‘You’re made of stern stuff, my girl. Most females would be having hysterics by now but no, not you. You apologize for the blackguard who abandoned you.’ He scratched his unshaven chin, then folded his arms. ‘I’d say you’ve got even more cause to hate him than I have.’

  I rubbed my bruised ribs which ached as if they’d been squeezed in a vice. ‘I suppose I have.’

  ‘Don’t feel too insulted, miss: it’s something that he didn’t try to stop the Meg leaving, knowing what it would mean for you. You must’ve counted for something. Here.’ Tivern shoved Pedro’s letter into my hand. ‘You suffered enough to get this. Read it while I decide what to do with you.’

  With a nod, I took myself off to an out-of-theway corner of the deck and unfolded Pedro’s message. The sailors glanced towards me curiously from time to time, but otherwise seemed happy to ignore my existence. That suited me.

  Onboard the Merry Meg

  31st July 1792

  Dear Cat,

  What can I say? I’m sure you are furious with me. I’m sorry I went off without a word but the chance came along and I had to make a quick decision – the Merry Meg was sailing that night and the captain would not wait. I know you will have fretted about me a little but please stop worrying: I’ve always had to look after myself and am quite good at it now, despite what you might have thought when you first showed me round London!

  As you may have guessed, I’ve decided to throw in my lot with the rebels on San Domingo. You don’t need me now you’ve got Mrs Peabody’s Ensemble so my conscience tells me that I should fight for what I believe in or live with the shame for the rest of my days. Such a chance comes but once in a lifetime. I don’t know if you’ll understand, Cat – please try – but it is something I just have to do. Even if I can’t be much help at the very least I can lighten spirits with my music – a far better thing than entertaining fat slave owners and their wives as I had planned to do in Kingston.

  I’ll write to you care of Frank as soon as I can. Forgive my harsh words on our last meeting. No doubt you were only doing what you thought best, but promise me you’ll never forget that slave-owning harms both the slave and the master.

  With love,

  Your friend and brother, Pedro

  Stroking the paper that had so recently been in Pedro’s hands, I folded the letter. Pedro sounded well: determined and clear-headed. He hadn’t run off in a pique as I had feared but had been drawn to something far more important. Seeing history unfolding before his eyes, his conscience had told him to play his part, no matter how small, in the struggle for freedom. Who was I to try to stop him?

  As the wind tugged on the letter, threatening to blow it to San Domingo, the extent of my own arrogance dawned on me. Despite everything, I had assumed I knew best for Pedro and had been trying to manage his life for him. My reaction may have been rooted in the concern of a sister, but it reminded me of the lording instincts of the white man. Pedro’s dedication to a cause humbled me, making my own aims seem so very petty. He deserved my support, not my attempts to nanny him.

  I tucked the letter away in my pocket. Not that any of this mattered now: I was a hostage on board a hostile vessel heading into unknown waters. Perhaps I should start worrying for myself?

  SCENE 3 – MERRY MEG

  ‘You know, girl, I’ll be damned if I know what I should do with you.’ Tivern had returned and stood towering over me. He scratched his head, dislodging his battered hat so it sat aslant on his curly dark hair. The odour of drink and dirt rose from his clothes when he moved – a perfume he shared with the rest of his grubby crew. ‘It’s been a godawful day but you were the only piece of luck that came near me – halved my losses. By rights, I should chuck you over the side and be done but I wouldn’t like to spit in the face of Lady Luck.’

  Nor did I want to be thrown to the sharks.

  I managed a small protest. ‘I can’t swim.’

  ‘Don’t matter out here: nowhere to swim to. What’s your Christian name?’

  ‘C
at.’

  He gave me a grin that displayed his blackened teeth. ‘I’ve heard cats don’t like water.’

  I shuddered. ‘You’ve heard right.’

  ‘Little actress, aren’t you? I saw you do that Shakespeare play the other week.’

  ‘I am, but I left the company to go searching for Pedro.’ I rubbed my arms – despite the sun my skin felt very cold. Fear, I realized, not malaria this time. ‘It was the stupidest idea I’ve ever had.’ Remembering some other foolish behaviour on my part, I amended my remark. ‘One of the stupidest.’

  ‘Tell me, girl, why do you want to find Pedro? He left of his own accord – no force on my part, I promise you.’

  ‘I know that now.’ I gestured to the letter.

  ‘So what you doing out here? Ain’t no place for a lady.’

  I shrugged. ‘Just doing what I always do.’

  ‘And what’s that?’ The smuggler took a swig from a bottle he held loosely in his fist.

  ‘I think I’ve been far too protective of Pedro. I’m stopping that now. I see that he doesn’t need me to survive.’

  Tivern grunted and handed me the drink – a gesture of fellowship that I could not refuse. Not wanting to taste the contents, I took a sip with closed lips, feeling the burning touch of undiluted rum on the tip of my tongue. Definitely not my favourite tipple.

  I passed it back. ‘I could murder a cup of tea right now,’ I muttered more to myself than to him.

  Tivern called over his shoulder to a sailor on the lower deck. ‘Oi, Kai, fetch the lady some of your dishwater.’

  A sailor with the pallor of the Orient and a whip-like black braid dangling over his shoulder put down the sail he’d been mending and disappeared into the galley. He returned moments later carrying a bowl of steaming liquid. Despite looking a blackguardly fellow, he gave a polite bow that would not have shamed a Mayfair butler. I took a cautious mouthful then sighed as my taste buds rejoiced in the heavenly savour of tea.