Captain in Calico

  Penner scratched his lip. ‘The sloop stands ready. Ben’s below, and nodded to me as I came up, so I judge he has your men to hand. It might be best to go to work as though nothing had happened.’

  ‘And leave her behind?’ Rackham put out one hand to take hold of the Major’s lapels, and there was something like madness in his hot, glittering eyes. ‘Look you, Penner, we made a bargain. We’ll keep it. I’m no buccaneer, but by God, I’ll stick to my articles and so will you. She sails with us if I have to burn that bastard’s plantation about his ears. He thinks because I’m a pardoned man he has me fast; that all he has to do is roll down in his carriage to Rogers in the morning and have me set in irons for tumbling his wife.’ He laughed harshly. ‘He thinks I’m asleep, likely. Jesus, we’ll see who’s sleeping.’ He strode over to his bed. From beneath the mattress he drew out his broadsword and baldric, and slung them over his shoulder. Then from the chest beside the bed he took out a pistol, and examined the priming while Penner watched him bleakly.

  ‘What d’ye intend?’ asked the Major.

  ‘What d’ye think? I’m taking those men of mine out to his house and have her out of there. Then we’ll see to the Kingston.’ He thrust the pistol inside his shirt. ‘You can get aboard your sloop. It may take us an hour longer, but I’ll have the satisfaction of paying her score with Master Bonney.’

  Penner moved his great bulk into Rackham’s path and held out the note. ‘Tell me first, how came you by this?’

  ‘Some nigra brought it. I didn’t see him; he gave it to the drawer.’

  ‘Just so,’ Penner nodded grimly. ‘And ye can swear it’s in her hand?’

  Rackham had been about to push past, but this checked him. He took the note and looked at it again.

  ‘I never saw her writing,’ he admitted slowly. ‘You think it may be forged?’

  Penner shrugged. ‘Were I Bonney I’d take good care my erring wife got no chance to send such a note as that. But I might easy write one myself, if I hated her lover and I knew it would bring him running.’ He paused. ‘You see the implication. Whoever wrote the note, it’s obvious Bonney has found out she was to meet you here to-night. And it’s odd, too, that he should choose to wait till morning before bearing his tale to Rogers. If he ever does intend to bear it. I think myself he’d take more satisfaction in dealing with you – and her – in his own way. And that’s what you’ll be giving him the chance of doing if you go blundering out to his plantation in the middle of the night.’ He planted his hands on his hips and rocked gently on his booted heels. ‘A pretty plot, faith. I’ll go a strong wager there’s blacks heating irons in his cellars now, for it’s not the mercy of a bullet you’d get from Master Bonney once he had you under his foot. It’s a lonely spot, and there’s not so many would be asking questions about you afterwards.’

  Rackham shredded the note to pieces between his fingers. ‘You may be right. I believe you are. Still, it makes no difference. He can know nothing of our plans for the Star and the Kingston. He doesn’t know I have thirty rogues at my call. He expects to catch me out there alone. He’ll find more than he bargained for.’

  ‘Wait.’ Penner was beginning to feel really concerned. ‘For God’s sake, man, d’ye think ye can start a war and no one take notice? Ye’ll have the militia on the back of your neck within five minutes. What chance have ye got of taking the Kingston once ye’ve roused the whole island?’

  ‘Penner,’ said Rackham, ‘you talk like a soldier. Leave piracy to me. By the time the island’s roused – which I doubt it will be, knowing how much your pot-bellied militia dislike activity – I’ll have Anne out of there and be down to the shore where our longboats are lying. Let the Governor and his lobster-coats go sweating out to Bonney’s place. It’ll make the taking of the Kingston all the easier.’

  He pulled open the door and shouted for the drawer. When that individual appeared, keeping a respectful distance, Rackham dispatched him in search of Ben. Penner sighed and shook his head.

  ‘If we come through this alive we’ll have had more than our share of luck,’ he said heavily. ‘D’ye love the girl, then?’

  ‘You’ld best be away to your sloop,’ said Rackham pointedly. ‘There’s nothing to keep you here. We’ve trouble enough without having you late at Salt Cay.’

  ‘By your leave,’ said Penner, ‘I’d rather come with you. I’ve no wish to be biting my nails aboard wondering whether you’re coming or not. Time enough to get aboard the sloop when you set off for the Kingston. And I can take Mistress Bonney with me. She’ll be safer so.’

  The truth was that he was concerned for the safety of the rescue party. Rackham in a raging temper might commit some rashness which would imperil the whole expedition, and Penner’s thoughts were with that cargo of silver speeding south to the Windward Passage. With himself to counsel and restrain in what lay immediately ahead they might still be sailing in its wake before dawn.

  Ten minutes later Rackham and Penner with their followers were assembling in a hollow by the east road a stone’s throw from the edge of town. It was too dark to see more than a few yards, and Ben made his roll-call by moving from man to man as they lay or squatted among the bushes. Those who had pistols were ordered to draw their charges, for Rackham would take no chances of an accidental shot which might announce their arrival at Bonney’s plantation and so rob them of the element of surprise.

  Presently Ben muttered that all was ready, and a moment later Rackham was leading his little force in single file away from the roadside towards the shore. He counted a hundred paces and then turned eastwards, following the line of the road but keeping a safe distance from it. Here they were moving through light scrub which dotted the sandy ground, but only a little distance ahead the undergrowth thickened into larger bushes and small trees. To their left lay more woods, shutting out the sea, but above the incessant drone of the tropic night they could just make out the sound of the distant breakers. All about them were the shadows, and above the dark Caribbean evening sky, with the tiny star-flecks glinting.

  They came on the first sign of ambush about quarter of a mile from Bonney’s plantation. They were filing through a small grove when Rackham caught the sound of movement somewhere to their right, in the direction of the road. Signing to the others to be still, he beckoned Ben, and together they stole cautiously through the trees until they were on the edge of the low scrub bordering the road. There they heard the noise again – the soft scuffling of a foot on the sandy earth. It was only a few yards from them, and after a moment Rackham detected its origin.

  Close by the road grew a single palm, its slender bole and feathery head outlined sharply against the night sky, and at its base, so close to it as almost to seem part of the trunk itself, was a vague shape, darker than the surrounding shadows. Gradually as he watched, it began to take form. A negro was crouching behind the tree, watching the road.

  He was squatting on his heels with his back towards them, and only ten yards away. They could make out the powerful spread of his shoulders and his thick, muscular neck, which made his head seem ridiculously small by comparison. He was crooning gently to himself and swaying slightly backwards and forwards as he watched.

  Ben drew his dirk, closed his teeth on the thin blade, and putting his palms flat on the ground, began to edge himself forward, an inch at a time, towards the unsuspecting sentry.

  Suddenly the negro stood up. He stood by the tree like a huge black phantom, and turning directly towards Rackham and Ben, said something in a deep guttural voice.

  Ben froze on the instant, but before they had time to decide whether they had been detected or not, an answering voice came out of the brush to their left and a second negro stepped into the open and came padding softly in their direction, apparently to join his companion.

  In that dim place, with shadows all over the open ground, he might have walked within a foot of the two sailors without being aware of them. Both were lying motionless, and were no more than dark shapes on t
he floor of the glade. Even had the negro been picking his steps he might have missed them, but he was paying no heed to where his feet fell until one of them descended on Rackham’s leg.

  To the negro it seemed as though the firm earth had come to life beneath his feet. He stumbled, and a huge shape whirled up from beneath him and struck him a paralysing blow in the stomach. His breath rushed out of him with a sound between a gasp and a scream, and he sank writhing to the ground.

  Rackham swung away from him to see Ben closing with the first negro. For a moment they were locked together in the shadow of the palm; then they stumbled and went crashing down, with Ben beneath his larger opponent. Steel flashed in the air as the pirate tried to drive home his dirk, but a sinewy black hand shot out and clamped on his wrist. The dirk was twisted from his hand, but even as the negro grabbed for it, Rackham’s fist descended with crushing force on the nape of his neck and he slid forward without a sound.

  The other negro was lying doubled up and moaning, his hands pressed to his midriff. He was obviously in no case to escape or do harm, so Rackham left him and whistled softly to bring up the rest of his force.

  That he took a risk he fully realised. There might be other sentinels on the road, but he doubted it. The two negroes were both unusually big men, and since it was only himself who was expected at Bonney’s plantation that night they would have been enough to account for one unsuspecting man. He said as much to Penner when presently the others had come up, and the Major looked at the unconscious black and shuddered.

  ‘Ye can thank God ye took them by surprise and not they you. Look at that animal! Why, he’s a good foot taller than I am myself. Even you would have been a baby to him. Here, Jemmy, put a bit of line round this brute’s wrists and ankles before he comes to.’

  While the negroes were being trussed, Rackham and Penner held a brief council beside the road. Penner agreed it was unlikely that there were any more sentries outside the plantation; if there were they must have heard the noise of the scuffle and be on their way back now.

  ‘Anyway, whatever way it is, it seems to me best that we should get in and out as fast as we can,’ he added. ‘The main gate’ll be as good as any, and so up to the house. They won’t be expecting a boarding party.’

  Moving as quickly as he could without undue noise, Rackham led the line of men through the scrub that bordered the highway until they approached the last tree-shrouded bend on the road before the main gate itself. Much depended on whether the gate was open or not; if it was closed there would be no alternative but to storm it and risk a running fight with Bonney’s negroes in the plantation grounds.

  But the gate was open, and between the palisades a solitary sentry, another negro, was squatting on his heels and drowsing with his head against the barrel of a fowling-piece. He was keening softly to himself when a huge white figure seemed to materialise in front of him and he was struck a crushing blow between the eyes which flung him backwards half-senseless. Before he could recover sufficiently to bawl the alarm sinewy hands had pinioned and gagged him and he had been flung into the bushes beside the gate.

  Rackham, standing in the drive, listened intently for any sign that the scuffle had been overheard, but apart from the incessant hum of insects and the mournful call of a night bird in the trees there was no sound at all. Satisfied, he turned to Penner, and pointed ahead up the drive. Less than a hundred yards in front of them it widened out into a small carriage-sweep, beyond which was the house itself. Light gleamed through the shutters of the three windows at the left-hand end of the building: Rackham knew that all three gave on to Bonney’s long dining-room.

  He stooped down and rubbed his fingers in the dust, drew his heavy broadsword, and flexed it between his hands. Penner sighed as he unsheathed his rapier, and laid a hand on Rackham’s arm.

  ‘I know ye’ve got a lot to mislike him for, boy,’ he whispered, ‘but be easy, for your own sake. Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord, an’ that. Let’s take the girl and leave the others be, eh?’

  Rackham turned towards him and disengaged his arm. ‘You’ve better things to concern you than James Bonney. When we reach the house have six men to each window. Let the others stay here. The men at the windows will burst in when I do, understand? And no killing unless I give the word, or if they have to. Right, bring them up.’

  They padded up the drive in a long line, and spread out abreast when the carriage-sweep was reached. Then together they advanced in silence to the verandah, and crouched down while Rackham mounted the rail and flattened himself in the shadow between the two left-hand windows. All three were close-shuttered, but through them he could hear the sonorous rhythm of a native drum and the tinkle of a tambourine. On both sides of him the dark figures of the pirates were clambering softly on to the verandah and lying close by the shutters. When all were in position Rackham knelt beside Ben at the centre window and peered in through the lattice. At the same moment the throbbing of the drum ceased, and a man’s voice was raised in high-pitched laughter.

  11. THE QUARRY

  The room was brightly illumined by candles set on the long table which stretched from the right-hand window to the centre of the apartment. To the left, crouching on a small rug, like a carved nymph on an Italian fountain, knelt a naked girl. She was half-caste and her golden shoulders, gleaming pale in the light, were heaving from the exertions of the dance she had just concluded. Even as Rackham looked in she rose and faced the three men seated at the table.

  Bonney was at the table head, leaning back in a high chair, drowsily eyeing the girl. His yellow face was impassive, but his little eyes were glistening as he surveyed her. He had thrown off his wig, and a black stubble showed on his round, bullet-shaped head.

  On his left, down the table, a tall, fair man with a heavily lined face was leaning across to speak to him. Rackham recognised him as Baker, a plantation owner from the south side of the island, with whom he had done some business in the old days. He was gesturing towards the girl, and although his voice was not audible through the shutters, Rackham could hear in imagination the languid drawl which Baker affected.

  The man who had laughed was Kane. He squatted like a great toad on a stool at the table-foot, an incongruous figure in his untidy jacket and drawers, a hand on either knee, staring at the little dancer with hungry eyes. He laughed again now, and called out something which, by the expression of distaste which Baker glanced towards him, must have been an obscene jest. Bonney addressed him, and Kane, grinning, buried his face in the large mug at his elbow.

  Rackham’s glance went beyond the table to the little flight of steps, oddly placed in the far right-hand corner of the room, which he knew gave on to a short passage leading to the hall. There was no door, but a curtain hung at the head of the steps to act as a partition from the corridor. On the bottom step sat a little wizened negro with a native drum between his knees, and beside him a skinny mulatto youth with the tambourine. No one in the room was armed, but on the wall behind Bonney’s chair was a trophy with two small-swords crossed beneath it.

  Ben stirred and spoke. ‘Bonney amuses hisself. Shall we show ‘im the best o’ the entertainment’s still to come?’

  Rackham leaned forward and felt with his fingers in the crack beneath the shutter. It was only loosely fastened. He drew it gently towards him and heaved with all his strength. There was a crack of splintering wood and a cry of surprise from the room, but the shutter held, and it took a second heave to break the catch. With his sword in one hand, while the other drew and cocked his pistol, Rackham stepped over the sill and dropped lightly into the room. His pistol covered the three stupefied men at the table.

  ‘Make a sound and it’ll be your last this side of hell,’ he snapped. ‘Baker, sit still and no one will harm you; I’ve no quarrel with you. Just these two fine birds.’ And he gestured to Bonney and Kane.

  Bonney sat fixed in his chair, his pallid face even whiter at the apparitions in his three windows. Bearded, swarthy faces were grin
ning at him from every one, and everywhere was the glitter of steel. And in front of them all was the man who by now should have been shackled and helpless while negroes dragged him to the plantation a prisoner. Bonney tried to rise, but fear gripped his limbs, and he could only cower back in his great chair. Baker sat still and staring.

  The only one to act was Kane. He had bounded to his feet when the shutters were burst open, and now he vaulted over the table, oversetting a bottle with his foot as he leaped, but regaining his balance and landing like a cat on the other side. He sprang sideways once to disconcert Rackham’s aim, and in a second was bounding up the steps, spurning aside the drummer as he went.

  For an instant Rackham’s finger tightened on the trigger, then he remembered that the crash of a shot must bring whatever force the plantation mustered about their heads.

  ‘After him!’ he snapped, and Ben was round the table and up the room almost before the words had left his leader’s lips, drawing his dirk as he went. Kane was clattering down the passage, bellowing an alarm. Ben clutched at the curtain to steady himself, swung up his dirk, and flung it after the retreating overseer with all his force.

  Kane’s roaring broke off in a scream, and they heard the tremendous crash as he plunged headlong over some piece of furniture and brought it with him to the floor. There followed a horrid, wheezing cough, repeated again and again, and the sound of limbs threshing in agony. Then he coughed for the last time, and in the same second the bottle he had overturned in his leap rolled off the edge of the table and splintered on the floor. Just so long had it taken from the moment when Kane began his fatal flight.

  Ben strode along the passage and presently returned, wiping his blade on a piece of Kane’s shirt.

  Rackham looked at Bonney. ‘So much for your overseer. If you don’t want to follow him, where’s your wife?’ And he raised his sword so that Bonney should see it gleam in the candlelight.