Captain in Calico (11 page)

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 the 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.

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 grinning 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.

The question seemed to make something snap in Bonney's brain. Hitherto, even while Kane was choking out his life in the corridor only a few yards away, he had sat motionless, his eyes fixed fearfully on Rackham's face. Now he scrambled suddenly out of his chair and rushed to the wall, snatching down a small-sword from its bracket. Setting his back to the wall he stood panting, the sweat trickling down his face, the sword extended before him. A little ripple of laughter came from the pirates at the other end of the room.

At this point Major Penner intervened. He had no wish to see Bonney cut to pieces, which was what he imagined must happen if Rackham were not forestalled. Avoiding the half-caste girl, who crouched by the table, her hands folded over her breasts, gazing with eyes of terror on the scene, the Major confronted Bonney and gestured with his own rapier at the sword held in the plantation owner's unsteady hand.

‘Best put it away,' he said. ‘Resistance will not help you. Be a sensible fellow, now, and sit ye down again.'

‘In God's name, do as he says,' Baker broke in. ‘What can you do against so many? Put up your sword.'

Penner held out his left hand for the weapon, and Bonney hesitated, his face all wet with desperation. Then suddenly, with a cry of panic, he lunged with his point full at the Major's breast.

‘Ye silly bastard!' shouted Penner, springing back. ‘Must I embroider your fat carcase?' He advanced his own point. ‘Put it down before I do ye a mischief.'

But Bonney, blinded by fear, only thrust again, and this time the Major could retreat no farther, for the table was at his back. He parried the stroke easily enough, and as a third wild blow was aimed at him, lost his temper.

‘Take it then, you fool,' he said, and encircling Bonney's blade with practised ease, he transfixed his opponent's elbow.

Bonney screamed, dropping his weapon, and staggered back clutching his arm. Blood welled up in a great stain on his sleeve, and seeped on to his fingers, but he would still have resisted had not Penner set his own point, now sullied with blood, at his throat.

Rough hands thrust Bonney into his chair, and Rackham leaned forward and set a hand on each of his shoulders.

‘Where is she?' he demanded, and placed his thumbs on Bonney's throat. ‘Speak now, or I'll burn your house with you tied in this chair. Speak, you rotten slaver!'

Bonney writhed beneath his grip, and then his head lolled forward and he sank down in the chair. He had fainted.

Rackham straightened up with a grunt of disgust. ‘I'll find her myself, then.' He swung round to Penner. ‘Send half these lads out to the back of the house. There are other blacks on the plantation: they may have heard Kane howling for help. Three more stay here to watch our friends. The remainder can go through the house and strip it.'

With whoops of delight his followers obeyed. Some fell on the table, snatching up the silver while they stuffed the remains
of the food into their mouths. Others wrenched down the ornaments from the walls, while a small party burst open cupboards and ransacked drawers. One laid violent hands on Baker, and began to haul the rings from his fingers. The merchant protested to Penner, but was bidden to be thankful he was escaping with his life. He subsided in mingled wrath and fear, and was soon left to shiver in his under-clothes.

Penner himself mounted guard on the dancing girl, his sword still drawn, and bluntly told several would-be amorists to take themselves off. Growling, they obeyed, and child-like, hurried off yelling to find other amusements.

Through the hall and the west wing of the house they stormed, like terriers, ratching in every corner. None of the rooms was occupied, and as he turned towards the rear of the house, where lay the kitchens and the domestic slaves' quarters, Rackham felt a chill of fear. Perhaps Bonney had removed Anne from the plantation altogether, or confined her in some outhouse. It would take them the better part of an hour to make a thorough search, and before then they might find themselves beset by the militia, supposing any of the blacks had escaped to spread the alarm.

In growing anxiety he set the men to smashing in cupboards and partitions in a desperate attempt to reveal a hiding place. They turned the kitchen into a shambles without result, and Rackham was on the point of returning to the dining-room to force Bonney to talk when a shout from one of the searchers took him out to the hall.

Two of the more experienced rovers had remembered that a house may contain more below its floors than it does above, and had diligently sounded the boards in the principal rooms. He found them in a corner of the hall, where the matting had been thrown aside revealing the outline of a trap-door.

‘Bring a light,' said Rackham, and when two of his followers were standing by with candlebranches the trap was thrown back. Stone steps led down into the darkness, and taking one of the candlebranches Rackham began to descend, feeling into the shadows with his broadsword.

He beat right and left, and the point scraped on the walls on both sides of him. The candles threw only a poor light into the gloom, but when he had gone less than a dozen steps the stone stair ended on a floor of hard-packed earth. At the same time the confining walls ceased, and he guessed he was standing in the opening to a cellar.

He looked up to the square of light above and behind him, where the heads of his four men were peering over.

‘Tom, and you, Michel, come down.' The two men swung over the side of the trap and dropped beside him. One of them brought the other candlebranch, and showed that they were standing in a broad chamber, stone-walled, with three doors opening off it. All three were closed and two were secured by heavy bolts.

‘Anne!' Rackham raised his voice. ‘Anne! Are you about?'

In that confined place his voice had an odd, muffled quality, but it evoked no answering sound. They waited, and then from behind the centre door came the sound of a quick movement, the clatter of some object falling, and an exclamation suddenly choked off.

In one bound Rackham was at the door. It was the unbolted one, and even as his hand descended on the latch he heard the scuffle of feet beyond the door, and the quick gasps of someone breathing in exertion.

‘Each side,' snapped Rackham, and as his followers leaped to either side of the doorway he raised his foot and sent the door crashing back on its hinges. He jumped back as he did
so, and so saved his life, for the first thing that emerged from the dark opening was the glittering blade of a cane knife, wielded by a negro who might have been the brother to the two they had captured on the road.

He hurtled forward like a diver, the razor-edged blade held before him in both hands, so that he must have spitted anyone standing close to the door. Rackham jumped aside, and Michel, thrusting out a foot, sent the negro sprawling. Tom leaped like a great cat on his shoulders, the knife in his right hand rose and fell twice before the negro had a chance to recover, and with one shriek which rang round that confined place, the fallen man collapsed and lay still.

His sword still at the ready, Rackham faced the dark opening. ‘Anne? Are you there, lass?' he called, and to his joy he heard her voice answer from the darkness. The next moment she was in his arms. For a long minute they clung together, observed approvingly by the two buccaneers. At last they parted, and he looked into her face.

‘He held his hand over my mouth, to stop me crying out,' she explained. ‘Pah, I can taste it yet.' And she spat in most unladylike fashion.

‘He'll trouble no one any more,' observed Michel laconically, and Rackham set his arm about Anne's shoulders and began to guide her to the steps.

Under the rough blanket which appeared to be her only clothing he could feel her trembling violently, and put it down to the cold of her underground prison. But before they had reached the steps she suddenly stumbled and would have fallen but for his protecting arm.

‘Oh, oh, Holy Mother!' She buried her face in his chest and clung to him, her breath coming in great hoarse sobs. There were no tears in her eyes; her body was simply giving
way in reaction to the mental and physical strain she had undergone.

He aided her up the steps, slowly, for she was no light burden to support with one hand. Half-way she paused, shook her head, and pulled her blanket more closely about her. Her eyes were glistening and her face was terribly pale, but she had mastered herself, and by a great effort set off up the remaining steps.

The pirates in the hall stared at the sight of their captain emerging from the trap with a woman on his arm, her red hair tumbled over the blanket which afforded her such scanty covering.

‘Jesus, don't none o' these women wear no clothes?' said one.

Rackham turned to Michel. ‘Bid Ben assemble the men at the front of the house. Then tell Major Penner I'll join him presently.' The Frenchman hurried away, and Rackham conducted Anne to her room.