‘Yes I can. And if it weren’t for sugar cane, I wouldn’t be here. Couldn’t we look at something else?’
‘No. The curing house it is.’
The curing house was much like the brutes’. Pots of drying sugar stood over earthenware pans which caught the brown liquid dripping from holes in their bases. To avoid the heat, they stood outside and peered in.
‘Pay attention, Thomas,’ said Patrick sternly. ‘You may be tested on your knowledge later.’
Thomas rolled his eyes and sighed. ‘Very well, sir. But please make the lesson brief as my attention will soon waver.’
‘On this estate we make what is known as muscovado sugar, which is further refined when it reaches England or Holland. Colonel Drax started making white sugar, using clay pots, but that takes longer.’
‘Then why did he do it?’
‘Soft white sugar fetches much higher prices than muscovado. Mr Lyte thinks we will all be producing it one day. Here we allow the sugar to cool for twelve hours after boiling, then we pack it in these pots and let it cure for a month. The brown molasses which drips out goes to make rum. When the pots are emptied, the sugar is hard. The middle of the loaf is packed into barrels ready for shipment and the ends are reboiled.’
‘And the molasses?’
‘Ours goes to a new distillery outside Bridgetown. Some planters make their own rum from it. What did the Gibbes do?’
‘Drank the stuff. Is the lesson over now?’
‘You are a miserable student, Thomas, and I shall waste no more time on you. Let us return to the house.’
‘An excellent idea. I’m feeling somewhat faint. A glass of wine should revive my spirits.’
Thomas soon started on the Lytes’ accounts, which were, as Adam had warned, in a sorry state. Piles of paper had to be converted into entries in their ledgers, columns of figures added up and made to balance and the totals reconciled with the records of money in hand and deposited with their agent in London. Not difficult work, but slow and painstaking.
When he was not walking with Patrick or working on the accounts, Thomas took advantage of the Lytes’ books. He was sitting in the parlour with a copy of Bacon’s The Wisdom of the Ancients, when Mary came and sat beside him.
‘Thomas, I’m pleased to see your recovery continues. Able to read serious books and plump enough to wear my brother’s shirt. Patrick must have been taking good care of you.’
‘Indeed he has. He’s a skilful physician and an excellent cook and I have much to thank him for.’ Thomas touched his cheek. ‘Even my scar is fading. I do believe he feels guilty that he has been so much better treated than I have.’
‘Perhaps he does. But at least you are alive.’
‘The thought of getting home has kept me alive for the better part of two years, madam.’ Thomas paused. ‘Have you thought further about my position?’
‘We have, but as yet without finding a solution. Adam is a cautious man and will not rush to a decision. And while you have been recovering there has been no urgency. Rest assured, however, that we shall do whatever we reasonably can to help you. It would grieve me greatly to send you back to the Gibbes. Patrick tells me you called them the brutes.’
‘Yes, madam, red brute and black brute. And I wrote a list of adjectives to describe them. It reminded me of being at school when we gave the teachers names. It’s odd how the mind works in such situations.’
‘Not so odd, I think. A matter of survival. I believe I might have done the same thing. And while you are our guest, we hope you will use our given names. In Barbados there is less formality than in London.’
‘Thank you. But are you not in danger by my being here?’
Mary laughed. ‘Put it out of your mind, Thomas. You are safe enough here. Adam will think of something and if we suffer an attack by runaways, you will be needed. Now say no more on the matter.’
‘Very well, Mary. Tell me, instead, how you came to the island. Patrick told me you were not born here.’
‘Neither of us was. I was twelve years old when we arrived, Adam four years older. At first I found it hot, humid, uncomfortable and frightening – not a bit like Dorset, which was the only other place I had known. When both our parents died of the cholera just before the battle at Kineton, I expected to be put into the care of relatives but Adam would not hear of it and insisted on taking responsibility for his younger sister. Restless and ambitious and much taken with travellers’ tales of the fortunes to be made in the Caribbean islands, he wasted no time in putting our family home up for sale. To those who accused him of callousness so soon after the death of his parents, he replied that a war-torn England was no place for him or me and that we would seek a better and safer future in the new colony of Barbados.’
‘He must have been a determined young man, and a brave one.’
‘He was. A neighbour, Sir Lionel Perkins, tried to dissuade him, having his eye on me as a future bride for his son Richard. They agreed in the end that I would return to marry Richard in the event of Adam’s untimely death, in return for Richard having the right to my hand when I reach twenty-one years of age. I do not look forward to that day. Adam purchased our passage on a trading ship leaving Southampton for the Caribbean and we arrived here in the spring of 1643, with a few hundred pounds and the intention of turning them without delay into a large fortune.’
‘Which, if I may say so, you have done. A remarkable achievement.’
‘We were lucky in finding this estate available at a good price and we have worked hard to develop it. There is only one aspect of our business we dislike.’
‘What is that?’
‘We do not like slavery.’
‘Yet you have slaves.’
‘We do. When we bought the estate the slaves came with it. We were faced with keeping them or turning them out to fend for themselves. We decided that the latter would be more cruel than the former. We try to treat them well and have acquired no more. When we need more labour, we find indentured men and only those who chose to be indentured or were found guilty of some petty crime such as poaching. As far as we know, we have no robbers or murderers.’
‘What happens to them when their term is up?’
‘We have promised all of them the purchase price of ten acres of land or their passage home. So far, all have stayed. Having made the promise we shall keep it, although with the price of land rising daily we shall have to sell many tons of sugar to do so. Adam tells me that good land is now selling for as much as thirty-two pounds an acre. Not only that, but the war in England has depressed the price of muscovado. What money there is, is being spent on swords, not sugar.’
‘Another reason to hope for peace. Still, if the estate is attacked the men will no doubt be willing to help defend it. That would not be the case everywhere.’
‘Indeed it would not. In fact, Adam and I have chosen quite a different path to almost all other landowners. While they have moved from imported cheap labour to bonded men from Brazil and Guiana to convicts to African slaves, we are moving from slavery to voluntarily indentured servants. And we do believe our men will stay loyal. They know that they are much better off here than as runaways in the woods.’
‘And what of Patrick?’
Again, Mary smiled her beguiling smile. ‘Patrick is special. His father was white, his real mother died in childbirth. At birth he was put in the care of the woman he calls his mother. They were here when we bought the property. It was obvious that he was extremely intelligent so we took him into the house as a servant.’
‘His knowledge is considerable.’
‘For that, thank our books and my brother. Adam has done everything he could to teach Patrick about the world. They discuss politics, philosophy, literature, everything. Patrick has become Adam’s adopted brother.’