Buccaneer (5 page)

Hector found himself blushing. ‘I’m sorry,’ he began, ‘I meant no disrespect. Lynch truly is my family name. The deception was forced upon me to protect myself and my friends . . .’

She interrupted him with a quick grimace. ‘I don’t doubt it. Captain Coxon has a reputation as a ruthless man, always eager to advance himself. In him you have made a dangerous enemy. Someone you had best avoid in future.’

‘I know almost nothing about him,’ Hector confessed.

‘He’s a ruffian. He used to consort with Henry Morgan in the days when harrying the Spanish was permitted. But that’s against government policy now, largely thanks to the efforts of our “uncle”.’ Here she smiled teasingly. ‘Men like Coxon still hang around on the fringes, waiting to snap up anything that has been overlooked. There are plenty who would help him.’

‘I gather that sometimes includes Sir Henry.’

She gave him a sharp glance. ‘You are quick on the uptake. I heard Morgan say that you only landed this morning in Jamaica, yet you’ve already sniffed out a few truths.’

‘Someone told me that Sir Henry Morgan’s preferences still incline towards his former buccaneering friends.’

‘Indeed they do,’ Susanna said casually. Hector had to admire the young woman’s self-confidence, for she did not bother to drop her voice. ‘Henry Morgan is still as gold-hungry as ever. But he is now on the governing council and a very powerful man. He’s someone else you should be wary of.’

With every moment Hector found himself appreciating much more than Susanna Lynch’s self-confidence. The way she stood before him, with her eyes boldly seeking his, left no doubt that she was deliberately calling for his attention. She was a very alluring young lady, and knew it. With a pang, Hector realised that he had never before had an opportunity to engage closely with a young woman so obviously on display. He realised that he was succumbing to her good looks and, without wishing to, falling under the spell of her provocation.

‘Then I’m at a loss as to what I should do next,’ he admitted. ‘I feel stranded. I don’t know anyone in Jamaica.’

She gave him a calculating look, though there was softness in it. ‘No one at all?’

‘My friends were despatched to the French colony at Petit Guave, and I need to try to join them.’

‘One thing is for certain. You should get away from Llanrumney as soon as possible. You’ll get no sympathy in this place.’ She thought for a moment, then treated him to a quick smile which made his heart race. ‘Tomorrow Robert and I return home – we live on the opposite side of the island, near Spanish Town, not far from Port Royal. You can travel with us, and from there continue to Port Royal itself. That’s the best place to find news of your friends, or even a ship that will take you to rejoin them.’

T
HAT NIGHT
Hector found it almost impossible to get to sleep. The friendly under-steward arranged a cot for him in the servants’ quarters, but keen yearnings for Susanna Lynch kept the young man awake for several hours, and when he opened his eyes soon after dawn, her image was the first thing in his mind. Dressing hurriedly, he went to find someone who might be able to tell him where she could be found. To his delight the under-steward told him that the carriage belonging to Susanna Lynch was already prepared. She and her brother Robert were to set out for home shortly, and word had been sent that Hector was to travel with them.

‘Will they breakfast with Sir Henry first?’ he asked, impatient for his first sight of Susanna that day. The indentured man gave a world-weary laugh.

‘Sir Henry and his cronies were up drinking until well past midnight. My master will not be out of his bed much before noon.’

‘What about Captain Coxon? Where’s he?’ Hector asked. He had a sudden, vivid recollection of the furious expression on the buccaneer’s face as he had left the party.

‘Disappeared last night, after you made such a fool of him. I suppose he went back to his ship with his tail between his legs.’ The servant grinned. ‘He’s an arrogant blackguard. Likes to let everyone know what a hard man he is. Can’t say I would want to be in your shoes if he ever gets his hands on you.’

‘Someone else said much the same to me last night,’ admitted Hector, ‘and talking about shoes, shouldn’t I be returning these borrowed clothes to you?’

‘You can keep them.’

‘Won’t your master find out?’

‘I doubt it. The rum has been rotting his brain for a long time now. When he was campaigning against the Spaniards some years back, he and his friends blew themselves up. They were sitting carousing in the wardroom of a King’s ship, and some drunken fool dropped his lighted pipe into a scatter of loose gunpowder on the floor. The explosion split the vessel into matchwood. Sir Henry was only saved because he was sitting at the far side of the table.’

Thanking the man for his kindness, Hector made his way outside to find that one of the carriages he had seen the previous evening was already standing before the front door of the main house. ‘Is this the Lynches’ carriage?’ he asked the driver who, by the look of him, was another indentured servant. But before the man could answer, Susanna and her brother stepped out on the porch. Suddenly Hector felt his stomach go hollow. Susanna had chosen to wear a loose gown of fine cotton, dark pink, with short sleeves. It was open at the front to reveal a bodice laced with ribbon, and her grey skirt was looped up at one side to show a matching satin petticoat. Her hair was held back by a ribbon embroidered with roses. She looked ravishing.

Her brother greeted Hector cheerfully. ‘You caused quite a stir yesterday evening! I’m told that the fellow you discomforted is an utter scoundrel, and well deserved to be put in his place. Always creeping about and trying to ingratiate himself. My sister tells me that your family name really is Lynch.’

‘It’s a happy coincidence which I was obliged to turn in my favour.’

‘Well, no harm done. Susanna tells me that you will travel with us, so I’ve arranged an extra horse for you.’

To his chagrin Hector saw that a groom had appeared from behind the house, leading two saddle horses. But Susanna came to his rescue. ‘Robert, you are not to deprive me of Mr Lynch’s company. It will make the journey pass more agreeably if he joins me in the carriage, at least for the first few hours.’

‘As you please, Susanna. His horse can be attached to the carriage until needed,’ answered her brother meekly, and Hector could see that Robert usually gave way to his sister. Susanna Lynch climbed into the carriage and took her seat. ‘Come, sit beside me, Hector. After all, we are cousins,’ she said invitingly, and gave a throaty chuckle which sent Hector’s mind reeling.

The road was very bad, little more than a dirt track which, after passing a neighbouring plantation, climbed inland by a series of tight curves on to a spur ridge covered with dense forest. On either side grew immense trees, mostly mahogany and cedar, smothered with rope-like lianas and other climbing plants. Some showed the pale flowers of convolvuli, others hung from the branches in shaggy grey beards. Here and there was the bright crimson or yellow blossom of an orchid. A profusion of ferns and canes sprouted between the massive tree trunks, forming impenetrable thickets of greenery above which hovered butterflies of extraordinary shapes and colours, dark blue, lemon yellow and black. In the background was the constant chatter and calls of unseen birds, ranging from a flutelike whistle to the harsh cawing of crows. All this Hector barely noticed. For him the first few hours of the journey passed in a daze. He was acutely aware of the nearness of Susanna, her warmth and softness, and the jolting of the carriage which occasionally brought her knee in contact with his, a contact which, if he was not mistaken, she occasionally allowed to linger. Her brother rode on ahead so they were left alone to their conversation, ignored by the driver seated on the box in front of them. In this heady atmosphere Hector found himself pouring out his life story, telling his companion about his days in Barbary, the time he had spent as a prisoner of the Turks, his escape, and how he came to be aboard
L’Arc-de-Ciel
.

It was as they crossed the watershed and began to descend the farther slope and the forest began to thin out in more open woodland that he finally thought to ask her, ‘Why did Captain Coxon bring me to Llanrumney?’

Susanna replied without hesitation. ‘Knowing Coxon’s reputation, I would say that he was trying to curry favour with Henry Morgan. As you already know, Sir Henry is at odds with my uncle who is expected to return here for a second term as governor. Morgan is always looking for ways to gain advantage over Sir Thomas, whom he sees as his rival. The fact that a nephew of Sir Thomas was found aboard a stolen ship could have been useful in his power struggle. Coxon would have been keen to deliver you into Henry Morgan’s hands so that it could be shown that the Lynch family stooped to robbery on the high seas.’

‘But Coxon had no proof of that,’ Hector objected.

‘If the French at Petit Guave decide that your friends stole
L’Arc-de-Ciel
, then you too would be guilty of piracy, and Morgan could have you hanged. That would be a neat twist and give Morgan a great deal of satisfaction because it was Sir Thomas who brought in the death penalty for buccaneering. He said it was little better than piracy. Then again, perhaps Morgan would have you thrown in prison and held, to be used as a pawn when Sir Thomas returns.’

Hector shook his head in bewilderment. ‘But it is Coxon who acts the pirate, not me.’

Susanna gave a snort of derision. ‘The truth is of no consequence. What matters is the way the wind is blowing, who has the most power on this island, the most influence back in London, or the most money to lay out in bribes.’

She broke off her explanation as her brother Robert appeared alongside the carriage and reined in his horse. He was looking worried. ‘Listen!’ he said, ‘I think I hear noises in the woods, somewhere over to the left.’

Moments later came the sound of a gunshot, followed by whoops and shouts, and then the baying of dogs. The carriage driver hastily reached under his seat and produced a blunderbuss even as Robert pulled a pistol out of his saddlebag and began to load it. ‘Hector,’ he said urgently, ‘I think you had better get up on your horse in case we have to defend ourselves. There’s a sword in my luggage. I trust you know how to use it.’

‘What’s the trouble?’ Hector asked as he began to search for the weapon.

‘No one lives in these woods,’ came the reply. ‘I fear we might have run into a roving gang of maroons.’

‘Who are they?’

‘Runaway slaves.’

Hector paused as the shouts came again, very much louder and closer. Now there was also the noise of bodies crashing through the undergrowth. Unsheathing the sword that he found, Hector unfastened his horse from the carriage and swung up into the saddle. The disturbance seemed to be coming from behind the carriage, and he turned his horse to face back down the track. A minute later several black shapes burst out of the undergrowth and raced across the path before vanishing into the thickets on the opposite side. They were pigs, wild ones, led by a massive boar, its jaws flecked with foam. The boar smashed a gap through the undergrowth, and behind him scampered at least a dozen piglets, small dark hairy creatures, which disappeared equally suddenly from view. Then came an interval when the track was empty until, equally abruptly, a human figure sprang out onto the path. He was a tall, black man with long matted hair down to his shoulders. Barefoot and naked to the waist, his only garment was a pair of tattered loose pantaloons. In one hand he held a hunting spear, and there was a heavy cutlass hanging from a strap over his shoulder. He was some thirty yards away. He checked his stride and turned to face Hector. For a moment he paused, seeing the young man, sword in hand, the carriage behind him with its driver and the seated woman, a second rider armed with a pistol. There was no fear, only calculation in the black man’s expression. Behind him half a dozen hunting dogs appeared on the track, running nose down and following the scent of the wild pigs. They also crossed the path and disappeared on the far side. But the black man stayed where he was, eyeing the travellers. Hector felt a cold spike of fear as a second, then a third black man appeared from the bushes. They too were armed. One of them held a musket. All three stood still, sizing up the travellers. Hector tightened his grip on the sword, the hilt now slippery with his sweat. Beneath him the horse, alarmed by the dogs and the wild-looking strangers, began to fidget nervously. Hector feared that the animal might rear up. If he was thrown to the ground, the hunters might take their chance to attack. He was also very conscious of Susanna in the carriage just behind him. She must be looking back, seeing the danger and aware that only he stood between her and the runaway slaves. For what seemed like an age, both sides regarded one another in total silence. Then a sudden burst of barking deep within the undergrowth broke the tension. The hunting dogs must have cornered their prey because the sound rose to an excited crescendo. The nearest black man turned and, raising his spear, waved his comrades onward towards the sound of the hunting pack. As suddenly as they had arrived, all three hunters vanished into the undergrowth.