Caribbee Part 54

Slowly, sadly, she rose. She pulled her white s.h.i.+ft about her, then reached under the mat to retrieve the small wand she had stolen from Atiba's hut. She untied the scarf she had wrapped around it and gazed again at the freshly carved wood, the double axe. Then she held it to her breast and headed, tiptoeing, down the creaking back stair. She had no choice but to go. To the one place she knew she could find Shango.

"I say d.a.m.n their letter." Benjamin Briggs watched as the mounted messenger from Oistins disappeared into the dark, down the road between the palms, still holding the white flag above his head. "I suppose they'd now have us fall back and negotiate? When we've got the men and horse ready to drive them into the sea."

"It's addressed to me, presumably a formality. Doubtless it's meant for the entire a.s.sembly." Bedford turned the packet in his hand and moved closer to the candles on the table. "It's from Admiral Calvert."

The front room of Nicholas Whittington's plantation house was crowded with officers of the militia. There were few helmets; most of the men wore the same black hats seen in the fields. Muskets and bandoliers of powder and shot were stacked in the comer. Intermittent gusts of the night breeze washed the stifling room through the open shutters.

The afternoon's mobilization had brought together less than three thousand men, half the militia's former strength. They had marched west from Bridgetown at sunset, and now they were encamped on the Whittington plantation grounds, in fields where tobacco once had grown.

The plantation was a thousand acre tract lying three miles to the southwest of Anthony Walrond's lands, near the southern coast.

"Well, we've got a quorum of the a.s.sembly here." Colonel George Heathcott stepped forward, rubbing at his short beard. He was still stunned by Anthony Walrond's defection to the Roundheads. "We can formally entertain any last minute proposals they'd care to make."

"I trust this time the a.s.sembly will discern treachery when they see it," Briggs interjected. "I warned you this was likely to happen. When you lose your rights, 'tis small matter whether you hand them over or give them up at the point of a musket barrel. They're gone and that's the end of it, either way."

"Aye, I'll wager there's apt to be a Walrond hand in this too, regardless who auth.o.r.ed it. Just another of his attempts to cozen the honest men of this island." Tom Lancaster spat toward the empty fireplace. He thought ruefully of the cane he had in harvest--five hundred acres, almost half his lands, had been planted--and realized that now the fate of his future profits lay with an untrustworthy militia and the a.s.sembly, half the voting members of which were men with fewer than a dozen acres. "He's sold the future, and liberty, of this island for forty pieces of silver."

"Or for the governors.h.i.+p," Heathcott interjected. "Mark it."

"Not so long as I've got breath." Briggs' complexion was deepening in the candlelight as he began wondering what the Commonwealth's men would do with his sugar. Confiscate it and ruin him in the bargain? "I say we fight to the last man, no matter what."

Dalby Bedford finished scanning the letter and looked up. "I think we should hold one last vote. There's . . ."

"What are the terms?" Briggs interrupted.

"They seem to be the same. I presume he thought we might surrender, now that they've landed." Bedford hesitated. Was independence worth the killing sure to ensue if they went to war--a war that had now become planter against planter? "But it does appear he's willing to negotiate."

"Then let's hear it." Briggs glanced about the room. "Though I'd have every man here remember that we've got no guarantees other than Calvert's word, and anything he consents to will still have to be approved by Parliament."

"If you'll allow me, sir." Bedford motioned for quiet, then lifted a candlestick from the table and held it over the parchment.

_"To the right honorable etc.

"My Lord--I have formerly sent you many Invitations to persuade you to a fair compliance with that new Power which governs your Native Country, thereby preserving yourself and all the Gent, of this island from certain ruin, and this Island from that desolation which your, and their, obstinacy may bring upon it.

"Although I have now been welcomed by a considerable part of the Island, with my Commission published--that being to appoint your Governor for the State of England--yet I am still the same reasonable Man as before and hold forth the same grace and favor to you I formerly did, being resolved no change of fortune shall change my nature. Thus I invite you to accept this same Commission as the others have done--in recognition that we each now possess considerable portions of this n.o.ble Island. . . ."

_Briggs stepped forward. "I already see there's deceit in it. They hold Oistins, not an acre more. With the men and horse we've got . . ."

"Let me read the rest." Bedford interrupted. "There're only a few lines more." He lifted the candle closer and continued.

_"Therefore I am bound in Honour as well as good nature to endeavour your preservations, to which purpose I have enclosed the Articles which the Windward Regiment have accepted. If you have any Exceptions to these Articles, let me know them by your commissioners and I shall appoint fit persons to consider them. By ratifying this Negotiation you will prevent further effusion of blood, and will preserve your Persons and Estates from ruin.

"If you doubt mine own power to grant these Articles, know I shall engage not only mine own but the Honour of the State of England which is as much as can be required by any rational man. And so I rest,

Your Servant,

Admiral Edmond Calvert"

_

Briggs reached for the letter. "What's his prattle about honor, by G.o.d!

This island's been betrayed by the very men who speak about it most."

He gazed around at the members of the a.s.sembly. "They've already heard our 'exceptions' and their reply was to invade. I propose we settle this with arms, and then talk of honor."

"There's a threat in that letter, for all the soothing words."

A grizzled a.s.sembly member spoke up, fingering his bandolier.

"Calvert's saying we're in a war against the might of England, with our own people divided."

"Aye, but when you find out a dog you'd kick will bite back, you learn to stand clear of him." Briggs waved him down. He thought again of the years of profits that lay just ahead, if only English control could be circ.u.mvented. "We've but to teach Cromwell a sound lesson, and he'll let us be."

"But does this dog you speak of have enough bite to drive back a full- scale invasion?" Heathcott peered around him at the other members. The dark-beamed room grew silent as his question seemed to hang in the air.

No one knew the full strength of the invading forces, now that they had been merged with the Windwards. And, more importantly, whether the Barbados militia would have the stomach to meet them.

"He's here, Yor Wors.h.i.+ps." At that moment a thin, wiry servant in a brown s.h.i.+rt appeared at the doorway. Behind him, in the hallway, another man had just been ushered in. He was hatless and wearing a powder-smeared jerkin. His face was drawn, but his eyes were intense.

Hugh Winston was now in full command of the Barbados militia, commissioned by unanimous vote of the a.s.sembly.

"Your servant, Captain." Bedford nodded a greeting. "We're waiting to hear what you've managed to learn."

"My lads just got back. They say the Roundheads haven't started moving upland yet. They're still encamped along the sh.o.r.e at Oistins, and together with the Windwards they're probably no more than a thousand strong."

"By G.o.d, we can stop them after all." Briggs squinted through the candlelight. "What are they doing now? Preparing to march?"

"Doesn't appear so. At least not yet. They look to be waiting, while they off-load some of the heavy ordnance from the _Marsten Moor_.

Their nine-pounders. The guns have already been hoisted up on deck and made ready to bring ash.o.r.e."

"There you have it, gentlemen," Briggs growled. "They'd try to lull us with talk of negotiation, whilst they prepare to turn their s.h.i.+ps' guns against our citizens."

Bedford's eyes narrowed and he held up the letter. "Then what shall our answer be? For my own part, I say if we want to stay our own masters, we'll have to fight."

There were grave nods among the a.s.sembled men as Bedford turned to Winston. "How does it stand with the militia?"

"I'd say we've got just about all the infantry and horse we're likely to muster. I've gone ahead and issued what's left of the powder and shot." He was still standing by the doorway. "We've got to move on out tonight and deploy around their position with whatever men, horse, and cannon we can manage, lest the weather change by morning and end our mobility." He thumbed toward the east. "There're some dark clouds moving in fast, and I don't care for the looks of them. There's some wind out of the west, too, off the ocean. Though that may slow them down a bit."

"What do you mean?" Briggs eyed him.

"It means the bay's doubtless picked up a little chop by now, so Calvert and his officers may decide to wait till dawn to offload those heavy guns. It could give us just enough time."