A little girl of perhaps eleven, showing strains' of both Negro and Arawak blood, was crouched beside a wicker basket containing a few withered bananas and pineapples. As Jeremy approached, she smiled and held up the basket, showing two painfully thin arms beneath her rags. Reaching into a waistcoat pocket, the young gunsmith fished out a copper and flipped it to the child.
"Almighty in de hebbin be wid you, gentleman master," she called after him in the musical, singsong dialect of the natives.
Jeremy continued on his way despite an impulse to turn back and give still more money to the little girl. His own funds were running low, for he had received no more gold as yet from the Duchess Caroline. And if he tried to alleviate even a small fraction of the poverty he saw existing everywhere among the free blacks, he would be penniless in no time.
Besides, he had his own problems, he told himself as his thoughts turned to all that had happened in the two busy days he had been in Jamaica. He had spent most of his time with the military authorities, gathering information that Caroline had requested. He had been amazed to learn that the garrison on the island was extraordinarily strong. The brigade itself was made up of almost nine hundred infantrymen and two hundred artillerymen, plus the governor general's honor guard, which consisted of a full squadron of cavalry. The morale of the troops was amazingly high, for it was the policy of King William to permit no more than two years of colonial service before bringing a soldier back to England.
All of these facts had been carefully reported to the Duchess and to Sir Ian, who had accepted the information without comment and had then dismissed him for the day. Caroline, he had to admit to himself, seemed quite pleased with him; he was accepted without question as Sir Arthur Bartlett's nephew, and those from whom he sought data were more than pleased to give it to him. He could see now how wise Caroline had been in planning to include a relative of the governor general in her party and how she had been doubly clever in securing the services of an impostor, whom she could control with far greater ease than a real nephew of Sir Arthur. It no longer bothered him to think that he had played into her hands, as his deception was proving completely successful.
Caroline herself remained an enigma. He continued to find her attractive, even fascinating; it was no accident that he thought of her first as Caroline Stuart, a woman, and only secondarily as a royal duchess with the power of life and death over him. Nevertheless he could not forget that she had maneuvered him into an extraordinarily uncomfortable position which placed him completely at her mercy, so despite her beauty, despite the temptation to approach her as a man rather than a subject, he did not dare. Caroline was lovely, but an aroused and angry Caroline might easily ruin his future.
As he approached the High Street, the number of pedestrians increased, and donkey carts laden with bananas and peppers, papayas and muskmelons, passion fruit and a watery-green local vegetable known as cho-cho creaked down the center of the road. A small crowd had gathered around the high fence of grilled iron that kept inviolate the grave of the late Sir Henry Morgan, once the most successful and renowned of the boucaniers and more recently lieutenant governor of the island. Several seamen, newly landed from the vessels in the roads, were pitching farthing and ha'penny pieces onto the grave while the crowd applauded.
Jeremy stopped, grinning. "What is all this?" he asked a dark-skinned old man wearing a broad-brimmed straw hat.
"Grave of Henry Morgan. Very great man, him," the ancient replied. "You see?"
Jeremy shook his head. He didn't see at all.
"Henry Morgan dead. Four year him dead. Now sailormen from ships throw money on grave, so have good luck next time sail off to catch Spanish bastards, French bastards!" He regarded the young gunsmith solemnly, but his eyes twinkled. "Sailormen drink too much rum, throw many gold piece on grave of famous Henry Morgan. Night come, small boys go through bars of fence, bring good-luck money to poor Jamaica families. This way good luck come to all. This way "
He broke off and winced as a series of sharp noises sounded behind them. The laughing crowd fell silent, and Jeremy turned with the others to see what had caused the interruption. The sight that greeted his eyes was far from pleasant. Five husky, half-naked Negroes, ranging in age from their late teens to middle thirties, were shuffling down the High Street in single file, their progress considerably hampered by two long chains binding each man securely by the left wrist and right ankle. Behind them, on a spirited mare, rode a florid-faced white man who flourished the whip and cracked it close over the.heads of the sullen slaves as he hoarsely urged them to hurry.
Although there were a number of Negro house slaves in New York Town, they had always been treated with kindness, with more consideration, in fact, than the indentured servants who had worked so hard at Smith's Foundry. But never had he seen anything like this.
The overseer, aware that he had an audience, scowled and deliberately flicked the whip five times in succession; with each careful twist he succeeded in laying open the back of a Negro. Jeremy watched in horror as the slaves continued to move methodically along the road, their faces showing none of the pain they were feeling.
"You don't like it, Master Bartlett." A feminine voice spoke softly just behind Jeremy and to his right.
"They're men—not animals!" he retorted, barely realizing that he had spoken. Turning, he saw Esther Mary Pennywell, who was watching him with eyes both wise and sardonic.
'There are others who feel the same way. You may have a chance someday to help these poor brutes—and others like them. A man in your position could do much—if you would."
Before he could reply, she smiled fleetingly, then wormed her way through the crowd. Jeremy watched her, shaking his head slowly. Never had he encountered a girl like her, a girl who was provocative and tantalizing, yet as blunt and plain-spoken as a man. Her unconventional attire, even her unique hair style, did not make her less interesting as a woman. In fact he had rarely encountered a female who piqued his curiosity, who aroused him as she did. Her boyish clothes concealed little of her supple figure, and he continued to stare after her until she disappeared from view.
He could not banish her from his mind, however, and as he continued on his way he laughed softly to himself. Although his position was difficult, although there was much to occupy his attention, he was certain he would find time to become better acquainted with Esther Mary Pennywell. Without realizing it, he began to walk a trifle faster; the prospect of knowing her better was an enticing one, and he solemnly promised himself that pleasure.
The Rainbow Inn was the biggest of Port Royal's taverns, the rowdiest and the most popular. Located on the far edge of town, facing the sea, it was actually a collection of ramshackle buildings whose interior walls adjoined and could be partly opened to make one big room. With two ships newly arrived, it was a bedlam as hordes of seamen gorged themselves on foods they had been denied for months, drank to excess, and fondled the heavily painted and perfumed doxies who were present in a ratio of three to every two men.
In the largest of the rooms a four-piece orchestra made valiant but ineffectual efforts to be heard over the din, and the musicians thumped their oversized guitars vigorously but in vain. It was dusk, and the candles in glass protectors attached to the walls gave off a glow that was far from adequate for anyone who wanted to see his food or his companions. And despite the many windows and lattices, there was a persistent odor, compounded of rum and cooking grease, unwashed bodies and pungent colognes. Tables were crowded together, waiters had difficulty in serving the patrons, and even when they succeeded the food arrived cold. But nobody seemed to mind these inconveniences; a carnival atmosphere prevailed at the Rainbow Inn, and virtually everyone present joined in the spirit of the evening.