Tide of War (32 page)

Saint-Domingue was the richest colony in the Caribbean: the “Pearl of the Antilles.” It produced more than half the sugar and coffee consumed in Europe—more than all of Britain's West Indian colonies combined—and General Williamson had stripped Jamaica of most of its defences to claim it for King George. But after some initial success in seizing Port-au-Prince, the expedition had suffered a series of reverses. Yellow fever had decimated the British forces on land and sea and the rebels—under their leader Toussaint L'Ouverture—had proved far more capable than Williamson or his commanders in the field had anticipated. In recent months they had captured a number of small ports along the west coast which were being used as a base by French and American privateers and ravaging allied shipping in the Windward Passage. Nathan was half-expecting to be asked for his assistance in curbing these mercenaries and although he was officially under Admiralty orders he would have had difficulty in refusing such a direct request from a man of the general's seniority.

But Williamson, it appeared, had other concerns.

“We have a problem in Cuba,” he announced, waving Nathan to a chair.

Nathan inclined his head politely, anticipating some difficulty with the Spanish authorities—and indeed this was partly the case—but it
was far more serious than a diplomatic spat and of far greater import to him personally.

“I have received an official complaint from the Captain-General in the Havana regarding the activities of a nest of pirates presently operating on the southern coast of Cuba. They are said to be British seamen—formerly of His Britannic Majesty's ship
Unicorn”
He surveyed Nathan coldly. “Your mutineers, it would appear.”

He adjusted his spectacles to consult the document on the desk before him. “About a month ago they seized upon a British vessel in the Old Bahama Channel—the
Marie-Anne
of Liverpool, bound for the Havana, and engaged, I believe, in the slave trade. She carried eight guns but they took her at her moorings under cover of darkness, boarding her from small boats and a cutter—
your
cutter, it would appear. You frown, sir, do you dispute it?”

“I beg your pardon, sir. It is the name of the slaver—the
Marie-Anne
did you say, of Liverpool?”

“Is that significant?”

“Only that it sounds familiar.” And then he had it: the vessel Pym had entrusted with a despatch for the British consul in the Havana.

“The assailants included a number of maroons,” the general continued. “Escaped slaves and other riff-raff who had found refuge on the islands of Jardines del Rey and joined forces with your mutineers.”

The use of the personal pronoun might be considered objectionable in this instance but it was probably not worth the effort of a protest.

“Might I enquire sir, but how is this known? That is to say, how we came to have report of the incident.”

“Twelve of the crew were taken prisoner but later released onto one of the islands, whence they made their way to the Havana. They say many of their attackers spoke English with an Irish accent and Gaelic among themselves.” He bent his head over the papers. “They describe the leader as being a tall, red-haired rogue with a scar on his cheek.” He looked up and surveyed Nathan over his spectacles. “Very like the description of this O'Neill that your first lieutenant reports as having led the mutiny on the
Unicorn.
And another was wearing the
uniform of a British naval officer—I imagine this would be Keane, your master's mate.”

“And may I ask, sir, when this occurred?”

The general consulted his report. “On the night of September 26th,” he read, “the survivors being held prisoner for several weeks and finally reaching the Havana on November 7th.” Two days after Nathan had left. “Since when they have taken to flying the black flag and have established their hunting grounds in the Sea of Sirens.”

Another name that struck a chord but for the moment Nathan could not place it, unless it was from his study of the classics at Charterhouse. But it seemed to trigger more recent memories.

General Williamson heaved himself from his chair and crossed to a large wall chart adjacent to his desk. He indicated a large indentation, or gulf, on the southern coast of Cuba.

“The Sea of Sirens, so called because of the great number of islands, rocks and hidden shoals, only a small number of which are marked on the chart. It is, as you see, conveniently close to the Windward Passage and on the direct route for shipping from Europe to the Spanish Main, which is presumably why the villains chose it, as have many pirates in the past. This is where they have made their base …” He placed his finger on a long, narrow peninsular about halfway along the eastern edge of the gulf. “The peninsula of Serpiente. You see that small bay, or lagoon, on the furthest tip, almost like a mouth? Boca del Serpiente. The Mouth of the Serpent. A traditional haunt of pirates since the days of Drake, I am told. Indeed there is a fort they have seized there—Fort Felipe—that was built not long after Drake paid a visit to the region. Somewhat rundown since then, I am told. However, it had, until recently, a small garrison of regular Spanish soldiers and up to a dozen cannon—12- and 18-pounders. The Captain-General says they were taken by surprise. He says your mutineers have made common cause with the maroons of the Sierrra Maestra, who have had the impudence to declare a republic, calling themselves the Army of Lucumi. The Captain-General is, as you may imagine, somewhat alarmed at the prospect of its becoming a rallying
point for all the slaves in Cuba, not unreasonably given that they now have a fort, an armed sloop and the makings of a militia. All they appear to be lacking is a sufficiency of guns, powder and shot.”

He returned to his desk and sank heavily back into his chair.

“I need hardly stress that with the current situation in Saint-Domingue the last thing we need is a full-blown slave revolt in Cuba. The Captain-General points out that as the instigators of the rebellion are British seamen, it is incumbent upon us to do something about it, particularly as Boca del Serpiente is a good deal closer to Jamaica than it is to the Havana.” The Lieutenant-Governor observed Nathan with a jaundiced eye. “The
Unicorn
is almost ready for sea, I understand?”

“The repairs will be completed in the next day or two,” Nathan assured him, “but I would like to put the new spars to the test of a full press of sail before we continue our search for the
Virginie,
as my orders require.”

“Quite so, quite so. However, as we have no knowledge of her present whereabouts, or indeed whether she survived the recent hurricane in the Gulf, I am of the opinion that your clear and present duty is to put a stop to the activities of these pirates, the former members of your crew, the murderers of Captain Kerr. Do you not agree?”

“That has always been my intention, your Excellency, once I had dealt with the
Virginie.
Indeed, those were the instructions of their lordships.”

“Yes, well, it has now become a priority, as I am sure their lordships would agree. And I am sure you can put your new rigging to the test on the journey to the Sea of Sirens. I can let you have a pilot who knows the region well—an Englishman who has lived here for many years. And a gentleman who will be able to advise you on the situation regarding the Army of Lucumi. He is a Spaniard, a Spanish cleric in fact, but I am assured that he speaks good English and has travelled extensively in Cuba, indeed throughout the Caribbean.”

Nathan said nothing but his experience of Imlay had nurtured a prejudice against advisers.

The general fished around among the papers on his desk. “And there is another matter …” Something in his voice alerted Nathan to the possibility that he had been keeping the worst news to the last. “You are aware that your report on the encounter with the
Virginie
and the expedition to Coquilles Island were sent to Admiral Ford in Port-au-Prince, together with the officers' logs and what other documents appeared relevant. Well, I have now received a reply from the admiral by way of the
Antelope.”
He cleared his throat. He seemed to have difficulty in meeting Nathan's eye. “I regret to say that he is strongly critical of your decision to strip the
Unicorn
of half her crew—and all her marines—leaving the ship almost defenceless within striking distance of a heavily armed enemy. Indeed he describes it as madness.”

Nathan felt the blood drain from his face. His body had gradually stiffened into attention.

“Although you are under the direct orders of the Admiralty he feels it incumbent upon him to deliver a severe reprimand and to make his feelings known to their lordships in his next despatch.” He looked up from his papers. “I find I am in general agreement with the admiral's opinion on this matter and must, regrettably, add my own reprimand to his. Do you have anything to say?”

Nathan struggled to control his temper. “Only, sir, that we had no intimation that the
Virginie
was in striking distance at the time and that I took only a third of the hands on the expedition, not the one half that is reported. And that my reasons for doing so were that otherwise the fort would almost certainly have fallen to the rebels—and with it, very likely, the entire province with dire consequences for the Americas and for the war in Europe, as I was advised by Mr. Imlay.”

“Well, as to Mr. Imlay, it appears he was no more to be relied upon than …” But he thought better of spelling it out. “And whatever your reasons I cannot but agree with Admiral Ford that your decision to strip the
Unicorn
of even a third of her crew to aid a few Spanish colonists was rash in the extreme.”

“And yet, with respect, sir, you have stripped this entire colony of its defences in order to aid French colonists in Saint-Domingue.”

He should not have said it. He was wrong and he knew it. A good officer would have accepted the rebuke with stoic silence. But he could not help himself. He was not a good officer. The Lieutenant-Governor had gone a deep shade of crimson.

“You dare to make such a comparison, sir? To hold
me
culpable!”

“I merely point out the similarity—”

“Shut your damned mouth, sir. How dare you speak to me in such a manner! By God, sir, I could have you dismissed the service. Indeed, I have a mind to have you clapped in irons.” He flung a hand in the direction of the window and the harbour. “I might have ‘stripped the entire colony of its defences,' as you have the impertinence to suggest, but I can still find officers who could do a better job than you have—Lieutenant Pym for one.”

Nathan seethed at the injustice—and yet he was a damn fool to have spoken. He stood stiffly to attention, gazing at a point a little above the Lieutenant-Governor's head.

“I beg your pardon, sir. It was a vain, shallow remark and I deeply regret it. I can only request the opportunity to make amends by bringing the murderers of Captain Kerr to justice.”

“Indeed. Yes. Quite.” But he had begun to bluster and his hands flapped like the wings of some flightless bird. “And you
shall
make amends, sir, believe me. You will bring me this, this … all of them, their heads on a plate. Or I will have yours, do you hear me, sir?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir. Now get out.”

T
HERE HAD BEEN
the ghost of a suspicion in Nathan's mind when the governor had spoken of a “Spanish cleric” but he had dismissed it as groundless—until he saw the hooded figure seated in the boat approaching from Kingston. Even then he could not be certain until the fellow stepped aboard and threw back his voluminous cowl to reveal the ascetic features of the man Nathan had last seen in the Seminary of San Carlos and San Ambrosio in the Havana.

“Brother Ignatius,” said Nathan dryly.

“I hope I am welcome,” said the cleric with a thin smile but a twinkle in his dark eyes.

“You are very welcome,” Nathan assured him; and was somewhat surprised to find he meant it, “though I fear you are among heretics.”

“We are a tolerant Order,” the monk replied with a small and possibly mocking bow.

Nathan left Pym to the practical task of getting the remaining supplies aboard—he was, after all a practical man who enjoyed the confidence of his superiors—and conducted Brother Ignatius to the privacy of his cabin.

“I do not think we have the exact ingredients for a
mojito,
” he apologised. “We have large quantities of rum, of course, though of a dark
and viscous nature, and as we are a British ship, a plenitude of limes but not, I fear, the mint.”

“It is not the same without the mint,” the monk pointed out.

“I thought you would say that. One wonders how Sir Francis Drake managed to acquire it.”

“Doubtless the way he acquired every other object in his path—by stealing it from someone else.”

Nathan smiled tolerantly. “Whereas the King of Spain had so profound a respect for the property of others he removed all their gold to Madrid to safeguard it for them,” he submitted. “A little wine, perhaps?”

“If I am not keeping you from your other duties.”

Gabriel drifted off to raid the late Captain Kerr's dwindling supply and the two men composed themselves contentedly upon the cushioned lockers of the stern window with its splendid view of Green Bay and Salt Pond Hill and the whole magnificent coastline down to Alligator Point.

“ I will not ask you how you are come to be in Jamaica,” Nathan assured him, “for that would be impertinent in me, but I must enquire if you are officially in the service of His Britannic Majesty, if only for this voyage, so that you might be included in the division of the spoils, as it were, should any be forthcoming.”