A Falcon Flies (6 page)

The bosun climbed the companionway behind her, carrying the valise, but before they reached the deck, an idea struck her and she stooped to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

‘Nathaniel,' she asked urgently, but in a low voice, ‘is there a way of entering the ship's hold without lifting the maindeck hatches?'

The man looked startled, and she shook his shoulder roughly. ‘Is there?' she demanded.

‘Aye, ma'am, there is.'

‘Where? How?'

‘Through the lazaretto, below the officers' saloon – there is a hatchway through the forward bulkhead.'

‘Is it locked?'

‘Aye, ma'am, it is – and Captain St John keeps the keys on his belt.'

‘Tell nobody that I asked,' she ordered him, and hastened up on the maindeck.

At the foot of the mainmast, Tippoo was washing down the lash in a bucket of seawater that was already tinged pale pink; he looked up at her, still stripping the water off the leather between thick hairless fingers – and he grinned at Robyn as she passed, squatting down on thick, brown haunches with his loin cloth drawn up into his crotch, swinging his round bald head on its bull neck to follow her.

She found herself panting a little with fear and revulsion, and she swept her skirts aside as she passed him. At the door of her cabin she took the valise from Nathaniel with a word of thanks, and then slumped down upon her bunk.

Her thoughts and her emotions were in uproar, for she had still not recovered from the sudden avalanche of events that had interrupted the leisurely pattern of the voyage.

The boarding by Captain Codrington of the Royal Navy overshadowed even her anger at the flogging or her joy at her first view of Africa in nearly two decades – and now his accusations rankled and disturbed her.

After a few minutes' rest she lifted the lid of her travelling-chest that filled most of the clear space in the tiny cabin, and had to unpack much of it before she found the pamphlets from the anti-slavery society with which she had been armed in London before departure.

She sat down to study them once again, a history of the struggle against the trade up to the present time. As she read, her anger and frustration reawakened at the tale of unenforceable international agreements, all with built-in escape clauses: laws that made it an act of piracy to indulge in the trade north of the equator, but allowed it to flourish unchecked in the southern hemisphere; treaties and agreements signed by all nations, except those most actively engaged in the trade, Portugal, Brazil, Spain. Other great nations – France – using the trade to goad their traditional enemy, Great Britain, shamelessly exploiting Britain's commitment to its extinction, trading political advantage for vague promises of support.

Then there was America, a signatory to the Treaty of Brussels which Britain had engineered, agreeing to the abolition of the trade, but not to the abolition of the institution of slavery itself. America agreed that the transport of human souls into captivity was tantamount to active piracy, and that vessels so engaged were liable to seizure under prize and condemnation by courts of Admiralty or Mixed Commission, agreed also to the equipment clause, that ships equipped for transport of slaves, although not actually with a cargo of slaves on board at the time of seizure, could be taken as prize.

There was America agreeing to all of this – and then denying to the warships of the Royal Navy the right of search. The most America would allow was that British officers could assure themselves of the legality of the claim to American ownership, and if that was proven, they could not search, not even though the stink of slaves rose from her holds to offend the very heavens, or the clank of chains and the half-human cries from her 'tween decks came near to deafening them – still they could not search.

Robyn dropped one pamphlet back into her chest, and selected another publication from the society.

ITEM, in the previous year, 1859, estimated 169,000 slaves had been transported from the coasts of Africa to the mines of Brazil, and the plantations of Cuba, and to those of the Southern States of America.

ITEM, the trade in slaves by the Omani Arabs of Zanzibar could not be estimated except by observation of the numbers passing through the markets of that island. Despite the British Treaty with the Sultan as early as 1822, the British Consul at Zanzibar had counted almost 200,000 slaves landed during the previous twelve-month period. The corpses were not landed, nor were the sick and dying, for the Zanzibar customs dues were payable to the Sultan per capita, live or dead.

The dead and those so enfeebled or diseased as to have little hope of survival were thrown overboard, at the edge of the deep water beyond the coral reef. Here a permanent colony of huge man-eating sharks cruised the area by day and by night. Within minutes of the first body, dead or still living, striking the water, the surface around the dhow was torn into a seething white boil by the great fish. The British Consul estimated a forty per cent mortality rate amongst slaves making the short passage from the mainland to the island.

Robyn dropped that pamphlet and before picking up the next, she reflected a moment on the sheer multitudes involved in the whole grisly business.

‘Five million since the turn of the century,' she whispered, ‘five million souls. No wonder that they call it the greatest crime against humanity in the history of the world.'

She opened the next pamphlet and skimmed quickly over an examination of the profits that accrued to a successful trader.

In the interior of Africa, up near the lake country where few white men had ever reached, Fuller Ballantyne had discovered – her father's name in print gave her a prickle of pride and of melancholy – Fuller had discovered that a prime slave changed hands for a cupful of porcelain beads, two slaves for an obsolete Tower musket that cost thirteen shillings in London, or a Brown Bess musket that cost two dollars in New York.

At the coast the same slave cost ten dollars, while on the slave market in Brazil he would sell for five hundred dollars. But once he was taken north of the equator, the risks to the trader increased and the price rose dramatically – a thousand dollars in Cuba, fifteen hundred in Louisiana.

Robyn lowered the text, and thought swiftly. The English Captain had challenged that
Huron
could carry 2,000 slaves at a time. Landed in America, they would be worth an unbelievable three million dollars, an amount which would buy fifteen ships like
Huron
. A single voyage would make a man rich beyond mundane dreams of greed, all risks were acceptable to the traders to win such vast wealth.

But had Captain Codrington been justified in his accusations? Robyn knew the counter-accusations that were made against the officers of the Royal Navy, that their zeal arose from the promise of prize money rather than a hatred of the trade and a love of humanity. That every sail they raised was considered a slaver, and that they were swift to apply the Equipment Clause in the widest possible interpretation.

Robyn was searching for the pamphlet that dealt in detail with this Equipment Clause and she found it next on the pile before her.

To enable a ship to be seized as a slaver under the clause, she need only satisfy one of the stipulated conditions. She could be taken if her hatches were equipped with open gratings to ventilate her holds; if there were dividing bulkheads in her holds to facilitate the installation of slave decks; if there were spare planks aboard for laying as slave decks; if she carried shackles and bolts, or leg irons and cuffs; if she carried too many water casks for the number of her crew and passengers; if she had disproportionally large numbers of mess tubs, or her rice boilers were too big, or if she carried unreasonable quantities of rice or farina.

Even if she carried native matting that might be used as bedding for slaves, she could be seized and run in under a prize crew. These were wide powers given to men who could profit financially by seizure.

Was Captain Codrington one of these, were those pale fanatical eyes merely a mask for avarice and a desire for personal gain?

Robyn found herself hoping they were, or at least that in the case of
Huron
he had been mistaken. But then why had Captain St John put down his helm, and run for it the moment he sighted the British cruiser?

Robyn was confused and miserable, haunted with guilt. She needed comfort and she slipped a lace Stuart cape over her head and shoulders before venturing out on to the deck again, for the wind had risen to an icy gale and
Huron
was always a tender ship, she heeled heavily as she beat southwards, flinging spray high into the falling night.

Zouga was in his cabin, dressed in shirt-sleeves and smoking a cigar as he worked over the lists of the expedition's equipment that would still have to be obtained once they reached Good Hope.

He called to her to enter when she knocked, and rose to greet her with a smile.

‘Sissy, are you well? It was a most unpleasant business, even though unavoidable. I hope it has not unsettled you.'

‘The man will recover,' she said, and Zouga changed the subject as he settled her on his bunk, the only other seating in the cabin.

‘I sometimes think we would have been better off with less money to spend on this expedition. There is always such a temptation to accumulate too much equipment. Papa made the Transversa with only five porter loads, while we will need a hundred porters at the least, each carrying eighty pounds.'

‘Zouga, I must speak to you. This is the first opportunity I have had.'

An expression of distaste flickered across the strong, harsh features as though he sensed what she was about to say. But before he could deny her she blurted out, ‘Is this ship a slaver, Zouga?'

Zouga removed the cigar from his mouth and inspected the tip minutely before he replied.

‘Sissy, a slaver stinks so you can smell it for fifty leagues downwind, and even after the slaves are removed there is no amount of lye that will get rid of the smell.
Huron
does not have the stench of a slaver.'

‘This ship is on her first voyage under this ownership,' Robyn reminded him quietly. ‘Codrington accused Captain St John of using his profits from previous voyages to purchase her. She is still clean.'

‘Mungo St John is a gentleman.' Zouga's tone had an edge of impatience to it now. ‘I am convinced of that.'

‘The plantation owners of Cuba and Louisiana are amongst the most elegant gentlemen that you could find outside the court of St James,' she reminded him.

‘I am prepared to accept his word as a gentleman,' Zouga snapped.

‘Are you not a little eager, Zouga?' she asked with a deceptive sweetness, but his tone had kindled sparks in her eyes like the green lights in an emerald. ‘Would it not seriously impede your plans to find ourselves shipped on board a slaver?'

‘Damn me, woman, I have his word.' Zouga was getting truly angry now. ‘St John is engaged in legitimate trade. He hopes for a cargo of ivory and palm oil.'

‘Have you asked to inspect the ship's hold?'

‘He has given his word.'

‘Will you ask him to open the holds?'

Zouga hesitated, his gaze wavered a moment, and then he made his decision.

‘No, I will not,' he said flatly. ‘That would be an insult to him and quite rightly, he would resent it.'

‘And if we found what you are afraid to find, it would discredit the purpose of our expedition,' she agreed.

‘As the leader of this mission. I have made the decision—'

‘Papa would never let anything stand in his way either, not even Mama or the family—'

‘Sissy, if you still feel that way when we reach the Cape, I will arrange for passage on another vessel to Quelimane. Will that satisfy you?'

She did not reply but continued to stare at him with a flat accusing gaze.

‘If we did find evidence,' he waved his hands with agitation, ‘what could we do about it?'

‘We could make a sworn deposition to the Admiralty at Cape Town.'

‘Sissy,' he sighed wearily at her intransigence, ‘don't you understand? If I were to challenge St John, we could gain nothing. If the accusation is unwarranted we would place ourselves in a damned awkward position, and if in the very unlikely event that this ship is equipped for the trade, we would then be in considerable danger. Do not underestimate that danger. Robyn. St John is a determined man.' He stopped and shook his head decisively, the fashionable curls dangling over his ears. ‘I am not going to endanger you, myself or the whole expedition. That is my decision, and I will insist that you abide by it.'

After a long pause, Robyn slowly dropped her gaze to her hands, and inter-meshed her fingers.

‘Very well, Zouga.'

His relief was obvious. ‘I am grateful for your compliance, my dear.' He stooped over her and kissed her forehead. ‘Let me escort you to dinner.'

She was about to refuse, to tell him she was tired and that, once again, she would dine alone in her cabin, and then an idea struck her, and she nodded.

‘Thank you, Zouga,' she told him, and then looked up with one of those sudden smiles so brilliant, so warm and so rare as to disarm him completely. ‘I am fortunate to have such a handsome dinner companion.'

S
he sat between Mungo St John and her brother, and had her brother not known better, he might have suspected her of flirting outrageously with the Captain. She was all smiles and sparkles, leaning forward attentively to listen whenever he spoke, recharging his glass whenever it was less than half-filled with wine and laughing delightedly at his dry sallies.

Zouga was amazed and a little alarmed by the transformation, while St John had never seen her like this. He had covered his original surprise with an amused half-smile. However, in this mood Robyn Ballantyne was an attractive companion. Her stubborn, rather sharp face softened to the edge of prettiness, while her best features, her hair, her perfect skin, her eyes and fine white teeth, gleamed and flashed in the lamplight. Mungo St John's own mood became expansive, he laughed more readily and his interest was clearly piqued. With Robyn plying his glass, he drank more than on any other night of the voyage, and when his steward served a good plum duff he called for a bottle of brandy to wash it down.