A Million Tears (61 page)

After a while, during which we sped through the black night, the hiss of water along the hull and the wind in the rigging the only sound, I said, ‘I’m sorry Jake, I shouldn’t have moralised,’ and held out my hand.

He took it. ‘That’s okay, lad. You’re still young yet and for all your education and knowing ways you don’t know much about life. But you’ll learn different.’ I grinned; he wasn’t much over thirty himself. ‘It’s a dog eat dog world and you know something? I wouldn’t have it no other way.’

The next day the weather changed and we had a few rain showers. The wind backed a couple of points and increased and we had to reef in some sail. We were flying along, the sea spraying back into the cockpit, intermixed with the rain. I had the most incredible feeling of freedom; the rougher the weather the stronger the feeling became. I wanted to pit myself against the elements, against nature herself. Later that afternoon the feeling slowly died as the pitching boat kept ploughing through the green seas and white topped waves. I think it was the coffee that did it. I hardly got it down when I heaved it up again and there followed a sickness that left me wishing I could die.

‘Don’t worry David, it’ll pass. It had to happen sometime, it gets to everybody. You’ll soon get over it and be as fit as ever.’

I knew he was only trying to cheer me up but in my mind I could see him preparing to bury me at sea. Much to my surprise I survived and two days later could actually keep my watch without heaving. Although I felt hungry, just the thought of food turned my stomach.

The next day, though the wind abated a few knots, the sea was still as rough and I followed the dictates of my rumbling belly ate eat. The stew was delicious and I kept it down. In fact, two hours later, I had some more. After that I recovered quickly.

To watch the sun rise behind the green jewel of Jamaica in a blue, mirror flat sea was one of the most beautiful sights in the world. Jamaica. The name conjured up all sorts of exciting things in my mind. And this time we were going to land, in Kingston no less, the haven of the old-world pirates, of Captain Bluebeard and his murderous crew, of Morgan who later became Governor, of Kidd and the rest of them. The pirates were a part of the history of the island . . . a corrupt, killing, raping, looting, burning history.

The harbour was crowded with boats of all kinds. There were sturdily built fishing craft, fast sloops, ketches and yet another just like the
Lucky Lady
. There were one or two large trading boats which ploughed the oceans to the Far East and Australia, taking rum and sugar and returning with exotic goods.

We made fast alongside another boat, stepped over it and onto the shore. To have a steady platform beneath my feet after so long at sea was odd and both Jake and I rolled slightly as we made our way through the throng of people towards the nearest inn. I noticed the black men and women were tall and handsome and the girls caught my eye, in their light, flowery clothing, with their flashing eyes and quick smiles. There were street vendors all over the place, selling everything from small casks of rum and sticky sweets to knives and swords. Away from the sea it was hot and humid and I was soon sweating, pushing our way through the bustling crowd.

We came to a whitewashed building, went up a couple of steps and ducked through a doorway. Inside was a long, cool room, the walls white and the ceiling lined with black beams. There were a dozen or more men sitting at the heavy round tables scattered about; few of them bothered to look up when we entered. There was sawdust on the floor and a long bar facing us. My eye was caught by the row of bottles behind, all containing a different sort of rum.

We sat for an hour or two, sipping rum and talking, but finally we went back into the sunlight. It was now well into the afternoon and there were far fewer people on the streets.

‘They’ve gone for a siesta,’ Jake said. ‘Tonight there’ll be even more people out and about, the taverns and bars will be jammed and there’ll be fun all over the place. Careful with your money when we come back ashore because there’s as many pickpockets as there are honest people. More, I suspect. Come on, let’s get some sleep.’

The sun had set when we went back onshore again. We found a waterfront restaurant that served a delicious lobster and a good bottle of white wine. Afterwards we shoved our way through the jostling crowd looking for a bar which, according to Jake, served the best rum in town, if not in all Jamaica.

We were past the waterfront and walking up an ill lit, badly smelling, narrow alley when we heard a muffled scream. It came from ahead of us and, drawing our guns, we hurried forward. We came to another alley on our right and heard scuffling. Jake darted across the opening and we kneeled on either side of the alley, cautiously looking around the corner. From the light of a half moon we saw three men with a girl stretched out on the ground. One of the men was holding her hands over her head, another held her legs and the third was kneeling between them, groping for his fly.

I looked across the narrow gap to Jake. ‘Rape?’ I barely whispered.

He nodded. ‘If one of you move so help me I’ll shoot,’ he said loudly. In the silence his voice was startling. The men froze. ‘Get up and leave her alone,’ he continued, in a conversational manner. ‘Don’t try it, mister,’ Jake added when one of them sneaked a hand to his holster, ‘because I’ll enjoy shooting.’ The click as he cocked his gun was loud in my ears.

At that moment the moon vanished behind a cloud and the light went out like a lamp being extinguished. They were stupid, that was the only explanation. Two shots were fired in our direction, both passing well over our heads. Jake and I both opened fire, shooting low and rapidly. I heard one man drop and a gun clatter on the paving stone. We waited, hardly breathing, listening intently. There was a scuffle but I could see nothing. After a few minutes the girl called softly.

‘Don’t go,’ said Jake. ‘It may be a trap. With a knife at her throat she’ll say anything. We’ll wait for the moon to reappear, it won’t be long now.’

In the moonlight we saw the girl but nobody else. Her attackers had gone and slowly we crept forward.

‘See if she’s all right and I’ll look further up,’ said Jake.

I nodded and knelt by her side. She looked up at me, her eyes wide with fear. Even in that poor light I could see she was a beautiful Negress. She was breathing hard and fast, and I could not help but notice the rise and fall of her breasts beneath her thin cotton dress.

‘It’s all right, we aren’t going to hurt you. Can you get up?’ I asked gently.

She nodded and I helped her to her feet. She leant against a wall for a few seconds. ‘Th . . . thank you,’ she said in a husky voice.

Before I could reply Jake called to me. I dashed down the alley and found him standing over a body. I stood beside him looking at the widening pool of blood, black in the moonlight.

‘He’s dead,’ said Jake. ‘Stupid bastard. There’s so much to be had here that not even white trash need rape a woman. I’ll never understand men like them.’

‘White trash?’

‘Yep, poorer even than the blacks and won’t do no work. Look at his clothes. Even I would have thrown them away a long time ago. Come on, let’s go. How’s the girl?’

‘No . . . at least . . . I’m not sure.’ Her voice was naturally husky and not from fear, as I had first supposed. It sent tingles up my spine. ‘I see so many people in my work . . . men that is . . . that it’s difficult to be sure.’

I thought – damnation, a whore. We had saved a whore from being raped? It was ludicrous. How many times had she been on her back making money? We’d killed a man because she would not give what she usually charged for. I was angry and we continued in silence. Abruptly she stopped.

‘I live here. I work in the Blue Pelican. If you call perhaps I can thank you over a drink or something.’ Her smile was dazzling. She had high cheek bones, wide brown eyes, a straight nose and though her lips were full they were more delicate than those usually found in Negroes. I was sure there was white blood in her somewhere, probably French or Spanish.

Jake led me down a few steps and I had to duck through a low doorway. We entered a quiet room, with lanterns lit in small nooks casting a yellow light, there was no bar, but tables lined the walls with comfortable looking benches either side. The walls were festooned with old cutlasses and knives. I recognised a claymore and an old type epee, the sharp pointed duelling sword which had been a favourite with the nobility of years ago. The room was quiet and steeped in nostalgia of a bygone age.

A black man materialised at my elbow and bowed. ‘Can I be of service to you, gentlemen?’ he asked in a deep voice with an English accent.

‘Yeah, we’d like to see the rum list and bring us a bottle of white wine while you’re at it,’ Jake ordered.

The man nodded in acknowledgement and glided away. His black tail coat was stretched tight across his broad back and I had noticed the gleam of his starched shirt and the impeccable knot in his bow tie.

‘I don’t believe it,’ I said in a hushed tone that seemed to be called for in the atmosphere and gentility of the place.

‘Oh, it’s real enough. Don’t be fooled by Casper, though. He isn’t as soft as his manner might imply, as many have found out to their cost in the past. Ahh, here’s the wine now. Thank you, Casper,’ Jake said with a grin.

‘My pleasure, Mr Kirkpatrick. Allow me to say that it’s nice to see you again. We had heard there had been a spot of bother with the
Lucky Lady
. We trust it is now sorted out satisfactorily.’

‘Yes, thank you, Casper. This is Mr Griffiths, my friend and partner.’

‘Indeed we thought as much, sir,’ he inclined his head again, this time at me. ‘We have heard of your success with the law courts in New Orleans, without having to revert to the use of the court,’ he said with a straight face, while Jake burst out laughing. ‘It is indeed a pleasure to welcome you.’

‘Casper runs the best spy network in the Caribbean,’ said Jake. ‘In fact, David lad, you may as well know that this is where I get most of my business from. Casper makes all the arrangements.

‘I’ve no idea,’ he surprised me. ‘And nobody I know has a clue. I’ll tell you one thing though. So far it’s always been a black man who has brought me any messages. So I’ve often wondered if it’s Casper himself who’s the brains and organiser behind it.’

I nodded, understanding his need to put on a show of being able to read. We tried five different rums, from a very rough to an oily smooth. The ones in between were shades of difference I couldn’t tell apart, though Jake said he could. I bet him a ten dollars he couldn’t. I lost.

When we left Jake put a small bag next to the dirty glasses which contained Caper’s commission for the last job. From there we headed for the more boisterous dives near the water front. The thought of the girl from the Blue Pelican kept coming to mind and I was sorely tempted.

Somewhere along the way we staggered into a low ceilinged, dimly lit, smoke filled inn and ordered large rums and lime juice. We sat at a corner table. The place was packed to the gunnels with men and dozens of women, all black, all whores. Two of the women who to my bleary eyes looked quite pretty, came and sat next to us. One of them had dark brown eyes, full lips and a deep cleavage. I could not ask for more. I had never thought of a black woman in a sexual way before and now I was curious. She had a musky scent I found arousing and the feel of her breast through her thin cotton dress against my arm made my imagination run riot.

‘You buy us a drink, yes?’ she whispered in my ear, her warm breath completing my arousal. I was uncomfortable and wriggled to ease the pressure of my trousers.

She slid her hand along my thigh, ‘I take good care of him later, you see. And it only cost three dollars, all right mister?’

I looked down at her heavy breasts, her dress as low as the top of her nipples, the start of a deep purple colour just noticeable. I wanted to get my hands on them. She leant forward and turned her back slightly to the room, took my hand and cupped it under her left breast as though weighing it.

‘You like? I can show you wonderful time with these.’ She let go of my hand but I kept it there, fascinated by the weight and firmness of her breast. Her hand gave me another squeeze and then she sat back, pushing my hand away. ‘If you want more you pay for it,’ she said abruptly. Then she picked up our bottle, poured more rum into my glass and took a mouthful on which I would have choked. She offered me the glass and licked her lips slowly and suggestively. ‘My name is Bonny.’