Caribbee Part 55

"Then I take it you'd have us move out now, in the dark?" Heathcott nervously peered out the window, widening the half-open shutters.

"If we do, we've got a chance to deploy cannon on their perimeter, and then hit them at dawn while they're still unprepared. Before they have a chance to fortify their position with that s.h.i.+p ordnance. They'll have the bay at their back and no heavy guns to speak of, save what's in the breastwork."

"Then I formally move that we draft a reply to this letter and send it over by one of our cavalry. Lest they mistake our resolve." Bedford's voice was hard. "And then we let Captain Winston move on out with the men."

"Aye, I second the motion." Heathcott scrambled to his feet, his eyes ablaze. "Let's prepare a response right now and get on with it."

"It's done." Whittington turned to a plump Irish serving girt, who had been standing agog in the kitchen doorway watching this meeting of the Barbados a.s.sembly in her master's parlor, and ordered quill and paper to be brought from his study.

"Gentlemen." Bedford quieted the buzz in the room. "I propose we say something along the lines of the following:

"I have read your letter and acquainted the Council and a.s.sembly with it, and now return their resolution to you, in which they do continue with much wondering that what is rightfully theirs by law--being the governing of this island as it presently is--should be denied them."

"Aye," Briggs inteijected. "And make mention of Anthony Walrond, if you please. Lest he think we're not sensible that he's sold the island for his personal gain."

"Patience, sir." Bedford gestured for quiet. "I would also add the following:

"Neither hath the Treachery of one Man so far discouraged us, nor the easiness of certain others being seduced by him so much weakened us, as that We should accept a dishonorable Peace. And for the procuring of a just Peace, none shall endeavor more than the lawful a.s.sembly of Barbados or

Your Servant,

Governor Dalby Bedford"

"Well phrased, as I'm a Christian." Whittington gravely nodded his approval. "They can mull over it all night if they choose. But there'll be no mistaking our resolve come the morrow."

Bedford called for a show of hands. Every man in the room signified approval.

"Done." He quickly penned the letter, signed it with a flourish, and pa.s.sed it to Whittington. "Have one of your servants call in the captain of the horse. We'll send this down to Oistins right now. He can have his man take along the safe-conduct pa.s.s Calvert sent with his letter."

While Whittington rang for the servants, Bedford motioned toward Winston. "Now, Captain. You've got your approval to move the militia. I propose we all move with it." He turned once more to the room. The men were already stirring, donning bandoliers and sorting out their muskets. "This meeting of the Barbados a.s.sembly is hereby adjourned. It may be the last we ever hold, if we don't succeed tomorrow. May G.o.d preserve democracy in the Americas. Let's all say a prayer, gentlemen, as we ride."

Winston turned without a word and led the way as the group of black- hatted men moved out into the evening air. A crisp breeze had sprung up from the east, providing a cooling respite from the heat of the day.

Horses neighed and pawed in the lantern light, while the night was alive with the rattle of bandoliers. He strode to a circle of men waiting by the cistern at the side of the house and called for the officers. He was pa.s.sing orders to mount and ride when a buzz of confusion rose up from the direction of the a.s.semblymen emerging from the house. There were murmurs and pointing.

"G.o.d's life, it's peculiar." Heathcott was gazing toward the north, in the direction of the upland plantations. "I've never seen anything like it."

Winston turned to look. Across the horizon a dull glow flickered out of the dark. Before he had time to puzzle over what it might be, he heard a chorus of shouts from the servants' quarters at the rear of the house.

"Master Whittington! There's a fire in the southern sixty. In the cane!"

"d.a.m.n me!" Whittington trotted past the side of the house to look. At the base of the hill the red tongues of flame could be seen forking upward in the dark. "I was fearful something just like this might happen, what with all these careless militiamen idling about."

"The militia's not camped down there, sir." Briggs had moved alongside him to look. Suddenly his eyes went wild. "G.o.d's blood! Is that another fire we're seeing there in the north!"

Whittington watched the whip of flames a moment longer, as though disbelieving, and then his body seemed to come alive. "We've got to get some of these men down there and dig a break in the cane fields.

Stop it before it reaches this house."

"I'm more worried about it reaching our heavy ordnance." Winston gazed down the road toward the militia's encampment. "We've got to get our men and gun carriages mobilized and out of here."

"I demand that some of these layabouts stay to try and save my cane."

Whittington pointed toward the crowd of militiamen at the foot of the rise. "They're doubtless the one's responsible."

"That little cane fire will b.u.m itself out soon enough." Winston raised his hand. "We've got to move these men and supplies now. We can't wait around fighting cane fires."

"d.a.m.n me. G.o.d d.a.m.n me." Briggs' voice was shrill as he pushed his way through the crowd toward Winston. "I'm beginning to think that glow we see in the north might well be a blaze on some of _my _acres."

"Well, even if it is, there's not much we can do now."

"d.a.m.ned if there's not." Briggs peered again at the horizon, then back at Winston. "I've got to take my men over, as quick as we can ride.

Maybe we can still save it."

"You'll not have a single horse, or man." Winston raised his hand. "As soon as I brief my field commanders, we're moving on Oistins. We have to be in position, with our cannon, before dawn. If we don't attack them before they've managed to offload the ordnance, we'll forfeit what little chance we've got."

"Are you mad, sir? We let these fires go unattended and we could well lose everything." Briggs gazed around at the a.s.semblymen. "There's the looks of a conspiracy in this. It's apt to be some sort of uprising, of the indentures or maybe even these d.a.m.ned Africans. Which means that we've got to protect our homes."

Winston watched in dismay as the a.s.sembled men began to grumble uncertainly. Several were already calling for their horses. The night took on an air of fear.

"Let me tell you this, gentlemen." Winston's voice sounded above the din. "We've got but one chance to stop the invasion, and that's to move our heavy guns and militia tonight. You have to decide whether you're going to do it."

"d.a.m.n me, sir, it's a matter of priorities." Briggs' voice was almost a shout. "If we're burned out, it'll take us years to rebuild. Reckoning with Parliament would be nothing compared with the effects of a fire, or a slave uprising. I'll wager there's some kind of island-wide rebellion afoot, like we had a few years back." He was untying the reins of his horse from the porch railing. "I'm riding home and taking my indentures." He glared at Winston. "The few I've got left. I've got a house and a sugar mill, and I intend to protect them."

"I need that horse." Winston stood unmoving. "Tonight."

"This nag belongs to me, sir." Briggs swung heavily into the saddle.

"You'll get her when I'm done, not a minute before."

Several of the other militiamen were nervously mounting, having realized with alarm that their own plantation houses were unprotected.

Winston whirled on Bedford. "Can't we stop this? If every man here with a house to worry about abandons us, I'll have n.o.body save my own men.

Am I expected to fight Walrond's regiment, and the Commonwealth, all by myself?"

"I can't stop them." Bedford shook his head. "Maybe we can rea.s.semble in the morning, a.s.suming this rebellion matter can be contained."

"But morning's going to be too late. By then the sea may let up, and they'll have their heavy ordnance in place." Winston felt his gut tighten as he watched the cavalry and militia begin to disperse into the night. "They'll slice us to ribbons with cannon fire if we try to storm their position then."

"This is not an army. It's a militia." Bedford sighed. "No man here can be ordered to fight."

"Well, you've lost it. Before you even began." He gave the governor a quick salute, then seized the reins of his gelding. The horse was still lathered from the run back from Little Island to Bridgetown. "If it's going to be every man for himself, I've got my own affairs to look to.

So d.a.m.ned to them. And to their sugar and slaves."

"Where are you going?" Bedford stared at him gloomily.