Pirates!

  I told him I had no desire for company of any sort.

  'Prefer your own, do you?' he asked, taking my tray of untouched food.

  'I do,' I said firmly.

  It was not strictly true, and the time I was spending in solitary reflection was only adding to my misery, but there was no one I wanted to see, no one I could count as a friend to me, and I did not like the thought of being among strangers.

  When another knock came at the door, I thought it was Abe again and I told him to go away, but the knocking persisted. A voice I did not recognise demanded entry. I went to answer, stepping down on to a deck that no longer shifted and tilted. It was as steady as a drawing-room floor, but I still staggered as I opened the door and nearly fell into the arms of the man standing before me.

  He helped me back into the cabin and sat me down in a chair. He was crew of some sort, but clearly a gentleman, with shoes and stockings on his feet, and although in shirt sleeves, he wore a waistcoat.

  I guessed his hair to be sandy under his powdered wig, for his face was pale and speckled with freckles. His eyebrows were bleached almost white and grew tangled and thick, jutting like loops of unravelling rope. His eyes were a faded blue, as if the sun had taken the colour from them, too. He had the worried, tired air of a man who takes the troubles of others on to himself. He looked as if the sight of me had increased his burden still more.

  'What do you want?' I asked.

  'To see you.' He rolled his sleeves higher. 'I'm Graham, Niall Graham. Ship's surgeon. I've come to see how you are.'

  'Very well, thank you.'

  'That's not what I hear.'

  'Why should you care? I'm not your patient.'

  'You have no choice.' He gave a wan smile. 'Everyone on board is my patient, be they passenger or crew.' He came closer. 'Now let me see you. I can't have Miss Kington falling sick. Your family owns this ship. How would that look on my record?'

  'I am not sick.'

  'That's for me to judge. Reynolds tells me you will take no sustenance.' He held dowrn my lids and looked into my eyes. 'Bodily affliction is not the only illness we have to fear. It is possible to fall into melancholy.' Somehow he knew. His blue eyes might be faded, but they were shrewd and astute. 'I am a doctor. The nearest thing we have to a priest on board. Talk eases the soul, or so they say.' He held his arm towards me. 'Perhaps you would do me the honour of taking a turn or two about the deck. The fresh air will do you good, Abe is right about that, and I always find talk comes easier when accompanied by exercise.'

  I went with him up the companionway and stepped into a light which hurt my eyes. I wanted to turn and go back to the dark and gloom below decks, to hide myself away again, but Graham gently urged me forward. My sight cleared to see white sails against blue sky. I felt the sun burning through my dress, and turned to feel a warm wind on my face. It would be hard for me to admit, but I was glad to have exchanged the stuffy confines of my cabin for the open deck. I had closed myself off for too long, beset by melancholy, as Graham had rightly judged. From that moment on, I began to feel better. He was a clever doctor.

  Graham offered me his arm, and I took it. I felt the urge to confide even though I did not know this man. As we paced the deck I found myself telling him everything. It was nearing midday and the sun grew hot. Graham led me to the shelter of the quarterdeck and there we stayed, using a couple of upturned buckets for seats, until I had finished my tale.

  Graham listened with great seriousness, and did not offer false cheerfulness. He agreed that, indeed, my position was grave.

  'But you should not give up hope. You are young. There's always hope for the young. And this young man of yours, William, he'll not give up on you. He's a stout fellow.'

  'You speak as though you know him.'

  'Indeed, I do. We served together.'

  'On the slave ship, the Amelia?'

  'The very one!'

  'Why did you not say earlier?'

  He laughed. 'You scarcely gave me the chance. He was a good lad and did his duty in difficult circumstances, believe me. I'm glad he's joined the Navy. He will make an excellent officer. I'm pleased to hear that he is doing well in the service.'

  The thought of William brought all my sorrows back again.

  'He doesn't know where I am! Or what has happened!' I had not yet cried, but now tears pricked my eyes. 'I had no time to explain to him. He will think I've forgotten him, or deserted him for another ... '

  'Now, now, my dear.' Graham patted my hand. 'We'll get a message to him; acquaint him with what has occurred.'

  'How?'

  'Write him a letter. On my return to England, I promise to deliver it myself.'

  Just then, our conversation was interrupted by another officer.

  'There you are, Graham.' He swung in under the jutting timbers of the quarterdeck. 'Is this your idea of how to entertain a young lady? Have her sitting on an upturned bucket like a swTab? For shame! You should have taken her to the grand cabin for a glass of punch or a dish of tea.'

  He looked down at me, his brown eyes shining. He was about thirty, younger than Graham, and handsome in a florid kind of way. His broad face split into a grin and I found myself smiling back at him. 'My name is Adam Broom. I'm first mate here and navigator. You must be Miss Kington. How d'you do?' He held out his hand and shook mine like a man's. 'Glad to see you feeling better.' He kept hold of my hand and pulled me to my feet. 'He is a grisly fellow.' He nodded towards Graham. 'He's no use with ladies. Always talking about illnesses and other gruesome subjects. I hope his company has not distressed you too much.'

  I had not laughed for a long time, but Broom's teasing made my smile.

  'I'm not distressed because of that!'

  'Miss Kington wants me to get a message to her young man,' Graham supplied.

  'Oh,' Broom turned to me with his quick bright eyes. 'What young man is that?'

  'Young William,' Graham replied.

  'William? Which William? Every other tar is a William.'

  'Ship's boy on the Amelia. You remember.'

  'Oh. That William.'

  'He's Navy now.'

  Is he?'

  'Could we get a message to him, d'you think?'

  'I'm sure we could. Between us we know someone on every ship in the fleet.'

  I knew they exaggerated, but the promise cheered me, as did their company. It was part of Graham's treatment, as I realised much later. The idea of writing to William gave me hope, and that's what I needed, even though I thought at the time that my message was as likely to reach him as if I had cast it over the side in a bottle.

  'Don't it feel good to be in the sun again?' Broom turned closed lids up to the great bright disc above us, and bid me do the same. 'Feel the wind warming the skin.' I opened my eyes to find him smiling at me. 'That's the Trades, Miss Kington, set fair to take us straight to the Islands. Damned if my soul doesn't lift as soon as we are beyond the line. I long for southern climes, not like Graham here who pines for a landsman's life and longs to hang his doctor's shingle in some fetid, fog-bound northern town. This is your first trip, I take it?'

  'Indeed, Sir, it is,' I replied.

  'I envy you then, Miss Kington. Indeed, I do. To view the Islands for the first time, with fresh eyes. To see their mountains and forests rising up from the sea, like emeralds heaped on a silver salver.' He described a distant land with his hands, his eyes fixed on the southern horizon. 'And when you get there! Such riches! Such beauty! Little birds, smaller than this,' he made a walnut shape, curling his fingers into a fist, 'more brilliant than any jewel, flitting about flowers brighter than any silk that you will ever see. Fruit for the picking, sweet as anything you could name; the very air about you, scented with spices. The Islands are paradise on earth, it seems to me. You could search the world over, and not find their equal anywhere on it.'

  'Why do you not live there?' I asked, 'if you find it so agreeable. Keep an inn perhaps, or be a planter, or trader.'

  'Oh, no, M
iss Kington,' he shook his head vigorously, as if shocked by the very idea. 'That could not be. I have an affliction beyond the help of physick; even my good friend Graham has no cure for it. No sooner am I ashore, than I wish to be away again. My home is the ship. My country is the sea.'

  He grinned, his teeth white and even against skin tanned from many days sailing. He did not wear a wig; his long dark hair was tied back with a red velvet ribbon. He did not dress like the other ship's officers. His shoes had silver buckles, lace frothed at his throat. He wore silk beneath his plain sea coat, and his breeches were woven with ribbons.

  I should have guessed his destiny. He was half pirate already.

  He looked up as canvas cracked above us. 'The wind is freshening, turning east nor'east. You bring us luck, Miss Kington, damn me, if you don't! With this behind us, we'll be there in no time.' He winked at me. 'If I didn't know better, I'd say you whistled for it.' He bowed. 'Now I regret I must leave you in the company of this ugly fellow,' he nodded towards Graham. 'There is work to do!'

  He went off, barking orders that sent sailors scampering up the ropes and the helmsman spinning the wheel.

  'Don't mind Broom.' Graham smiled, watching his friend with affection. 'He is an excellent fellow, despite his teasing ways. The men would go to hell and back for him. There's no better sailor either side of the Atlantic, you have my word upon that. Now you must excuse me. I hope you will join us later in the great cabin. I'll make sure that Cook prepares something palatable for dinner, and I'm certain that Broom will want you to sample his punch.'

  They left me to wander the deck and I had reason to thank both of them, for their words began to heal me of my melancholy. I leaned at the bow, watching the prow cut through the waves, folding lacy white foam on to the shining deep blue water, and I saw the beauty there. A hint of Broom's sentiment touched me like the breath of the wind on my cheek. The heat of the sun seemed to melt the coldness that had grown around my heart and my drooping spirits lifted with the steady warm wind blowing over me.

  That evening I joined the company in the grand cabin. The other passengers were merchants, or planters like my brother. They seemed jolly enough fellows and the captain and his officers were charming and gallant, declaring themselves glad to have me there, for a female presence among them would stop their growing rough and grim. After supper, we were entertained by a pair of fiddlers and a boy on the penny whistle. Sailors danced for us, as nimble-footed and agile as any who played the theatres at home. Only my brother seemed unamused. He sat apart, drinking brandy, his face set and sullen, muttering that the other passengers were low, common, rooking fellows who cheated at cards, and cursing the crew equally as surly dogs who refused to do his bidding.

  I spent most days on deck after that, often in the company of First Mate Broom. He told me to look sharp about, for we were approaching the latitudes where pirates lurked in the sea lanes, waiting for fat merchant ships such as ourselves.

  'What would happen if they found us?' I asked, more curious than fearful.

  'If a black hoist were to be sighted, we would strike our flag. They would board us and take whatever they wanted.'

  'We would not fight back?' I was a little surprised at that.

  'And risk being put to the slaughter? Not likely!'

  'What would happen? Once we were boarded?'

  'Most of the crew would join them, given half the chance. Not the captain, of course.’ He said nothing about himself or Graham. 'The captain is a fair man, so he would probably be spared, put in an open boat, the passengers along with him.' He laughed, although I did not think pirates any laughing matter. 'Your brother might not fare so well. He treats the men like servants and no sailor likes that. Captain's the only one allowed to order them about. That's until they go on the account, then the captain is not much different from the men.'

  'On the account?'

  'That's what we call pirating. They ain't all bad fellows. They call themselves gentlemen of fortune, and some are exactly that.'

  'I am the only woman on board. What about me?'

  He patted the hilt of his sword. 'I would skewer any man who came near you until they were heaped up in piles.'

  'Give me a blade,' I said, joining in his banter, 'and I'll do that for myself.'

  'You can use a sword?'

  'Tolerably. I learned to fence with my brother.'

  'I see,' He rubbed his smooth-shaved chin. 'I'm glad that we are on the same side, then. What a surprising young lady you are, Miss Kington.'

  A watch was kept at all times, but although we saw ships on the horizon, none approached us. No black hoist bore down upon us. We had fair winds and good weather. We began to pass small islands surrounded by crescent-shaped reefs. They were uninhabited, but we stopped to take on water if they offered it, and whatever else they could provide by way of fresh produce.

  I felt none of Broom's predicted excitement when we sighted the northern coast of Hispaniola. Neither did I share in the celebrations of the other passengers. Great bowls of punch were prepared and endless toasts drunk, chiefly to friendship, as is often the way on voyages, vows of undying affection made between men who will likely never set eyes on each other again. I thought them fools and kept separate. Instead of joy and hope, I felt a great weight descending. Journey's end was nearing. The next island would be Jamaica.

  It was unto the West Indies our gallent ship did steer...

  9

  The town of Port Royal lay at the end of a narrow spit that arced from the land like an arm flung as a defence from the sun. The bay that lay on the inside of it was deep, the water clear as crystal. The anchor ran straight down, scattering shoals of bright fish, sending them feinting and glittering like shards of falling mirror, until the flukes came to rest, catching on the fat lumps of coral that studded the white sand fathoms below.

  The scene on shore was as busy as the Welsh Backs in Bristol. Ships stood at the docks. Wharves and warehouses lined the quays, but the men and women toiling to load and unload the cargoes were slaves. Sweat glistened on black skin. The female slaves laboured alongside the men, heaving sacks and rolling barrels, or moving with slow and stately grace, one hand held high to balance the great burdens which they carried on their brightly turbaned heads.

  Behind them, the town spread away from the waterfront, mounting the hill in a tumbled pattern of wooden huts and red-roofed, white-painted houses crowded one upon another.

  There was a carriage waiting for us.

  'Thomas, this is my sister, Miss Nancy,' my brother said as he handed me into the seat behind the driver. 'You are to take her to Fountainhead directly. I have business here in town.'

  He left us with a slap to the nearside horse's flank. The animal was nervous and skittered sideways, knocking against its pair.

  'You all right, Miss Nancy? Horses didn't jar you?'

  'I'm perfectly fine, thank you, Thomas.'

  He nodded, satisfied that no harm had come to me, and called a boy to hold the horses as he got down to load the luggage. Thomas was a tall man and powerfully built. He lifted with ease trunks that it had taken two men to carry off the boat. He said little, just swung himself back into his seat, and we were away.

  We were traversing the narrow spit that led to the mainland. The ground dropped away sharply on either side of the road, shelving down to strips of white sand. On one side, the pale green Caribbean curled in long low lines of surf; on the other, the waters of the lagoon lay blue and still. The horses pulling our carriage were high-stepping and skittish. Suddenly, one shied, swerving from something that lay in our path, causing the other to rear. The carriage lurched and we veered perilously close to the crumbling edge of the road. I clung to my seat, fearing that we might end up in the ditch, while Thomas fought to right us and to control the panicked animals. I peered over the edge of the carriage, wondering what had caused us to come so close to mishap. At first, I thought that a twisted pile of wood had fallen from a passing cart. Then I saw that the stick
s were moving, jerking in a strange random way. There must have been some dreadful accident. I started up in horror, marvelling at the cruelty of anyone who could just drive on and leave a living creature broken in the road.

  The creature lying there was so coated in sand and dust, the shape so contorted that I could not see exactly what it might be. Too large for a dog, but too small for a donkey. I shouted to Thomas that we must stop. He showed no signs of hearing, so I tugged his sleeve. When he still did not respond, I tapped him sharply on the back. He winced and turned round, pulling the horses to a halt.

  'What is it, Miss?'

  'It's still alive,' I indicated the heap by the side of the road. 'We must stop and help.'

  He shook his head.

  'No, Miss.'

  He raised his whip while I stared back. What I'd taken at first for a thing inanimate, and then for an injured animal, was a human being. What I'd seen as hanks of twine, or a halter, or collar, were scraps and rags of clothing. This was a woman. Half skeleton already. Her skin dull, greyish under a powdering of fine white sand.

  I was fumbling to open the door of the carriage, wondering if she were still alive, if we might help her, but Thomas reached back and pulled it closed.

  'She's old. She'll die soon,' he said with a shrug, indicating that any efforts we might make on her behalf would be wasted. 'Refuse slaves, they're good for nothing.'

  He pointed with his whip to where others lay tumbled in the ditch, then past the narrow fringe of grass and scrub to the margins of the lagoon. Dark shapes littered the beach like flotsam cast up by the sea. I could detect no movement. They lay like driftwood logs drying in the sun. He shrugged again and shook his head, his dark eyes bleak and empty. What was the point of saving one, when there were so many?

  He turned away from me and whipped up the horses. This wTas my first sight of the cruelty that lay at the heart of this place that Broom called paradise, eating away at it, day by day, with a voracious appetite that would never be sated, like some hideous worm. The effect on me was profound. I stared back at the woman until she was just a tiny mound, a speck of black on the bone-white ground. I stared until my eyes ached and the heat shimmering up from the sunbaked track took her away.