She's too independent, and I doubt she even knows what she's doin' half the time."

"And how about me? Think I know what I'm doing?" He pulled back a chair and straddled it.

"Doubtless not, given what you're plannin' next." She plopped into a chair. "But I've packed your things, you wh.o.r.emaster. The girls're already sorry to see the lot of you leavin'. I think they've taken a fancy to a couple of your lads." She laughed. "But they'd have preferred you most of all. G.o.d knows, I've had to keep an eye on the jades day and night."

He turned and stared out in the direction of the rain. "Maybe you'll decide to come over someday and open shop on Jamaica. This place has bad times coming."

She leaned back and poured a tankard of sack for herself. "That's a fool's dream. But you're right about one thing. There're dark days in store here, not a doubt. Who knows how it'll settle out?"

The wind seemed to play against the doors of the tavern. Then they swung open and a sudden gust coursed through the room, spraying fine mist across the tables.

"Winston, d.a.m.n me if I didn't figure I'd find you here." Benjamin Briggs pushed into the room, shook the rain from his wide hat, and reached for a chair. "I'm told you were the last to see that Yoruba of mine. That he tried to kill you this moming, much as he aimed to murder me."

"He was at Oistins, true enough." Winston glanced up.

"That's what I heard. They're claiming he and those savages of his brutally murdered some of Cromwell's infantry." He shook his hat one last time and tossed it onto the table. "We've got to locate him. Maybe you have some idea where he is now?"

"He didn't trouble advising me of his intended whereabouts."

"Well, he's a true savage, by my soul. A peril to every Christian on this island." He sighed and looked at Winston. "I don't know whether you've heard, but the Roundheads have already started disarming our militia. We'll soon have no way to defend ourselves. I think I winged him last night, but that heathen is apt to come and kill us both if we don't hunt him down and finish the job while we've still got the chance." He lowered his voice. "I heard about those flintlocks of yours. I was hoping maybe you'd take some of your boys and we could go after him whilst things are still in a tangle over at Oistins."

Winston sat unmoving. "Remember what I told you the other day, about freeing these Africans? Well, now I say d.a.m.ned to you. You can manage your slaves any way you like, but it'll be without my flintlocks."

"That's scarcely an att.i.tude that'll profit the either of us at the moment." Briggs signaled to Joan for a tankard of kill-devil. "Peculiar company you keep these days, Mistress Fuller. 'Twould seem the Captain here cares not tuppence for his own life. Well, so be it. I'll locate that savage without him if I needs must." He took a deep breath and gazed around the empty room. "But lest my ride down here be for naught, I'd as soon take the time right now and settle that bargain we made."

Joan poured the tankard and shoved it across the table to him. "You mean that woman you own?"

"Aye, the mulatto wench. I'm thinking I might go ahead and take your offer of a hundred pounds, and d.a.m.ned to her."

"What I said was eighty." Joan stared at him coldly.

"Aye, eighty, a hundred, who can recall a shilling here or there." He took a swig. "What say we make it ninety then, and have an end to the business?"

Joan eyed him. "I said eighty, though I might consider eighty-five. But not a farthing more."

"You're a hard woman to trade with, on my honor." He took another draught from the tankard. "Then eighty-five it is, but only on condition we settle it here and now. In sterling. I'll not waste another day's feed on her."

Winston glanced at Joan, then back at Briggs. "Do you know where she is?"

The planter's eyes narrowed. "Up at my compound. Where else in G.o.d's name would she be?"

Winston took a drink and looked out the doorway, into the rain. "I heard talk she was seen down around here this morning. Maybe she's run off." He turned to Joan. "I'd encourage you to pay on delivery."

"d.a.m.n you, sir, our bargain's been struck." Briggs settled his tankard with a ring. "I never proposed delivering her with a coach and four horses."

Joan sat silently, listening. Finally she spoke. "You'd best not be thinkin' to try and swindle me. I'll advance you five pounds now, on account, but you'll not see a penny of the rest till she's in my care."

"As you will then." He turned and spat toward the corner. "She'll be here, word of honor."

Joan glanced again at Winston, then rose and disappeared through the shuttered doors leading into the back room.

After Briggs watched her depart, he turned toward Winston. "You, sir, have studied to plague me from the day you dropped anchor."

"I usually cut the deck before I play a hand of cards."

"Well, sir, I'll warrant Cromwell's got the deck now, for this hand at least. We'll see what you do about him."

"Cromwell can be d.a.m.ned. I'll manage my own affairs."

"As will we all, make no mistake." He took another drink. "Aye, we'll come out of this. We'll be selling sugar to the

Dutchmen again in a year's time, I swear it. They can't keep that fleet tied up here forever." He looked at Winston. "And when it's gone, you'd best be on your way too, sir. Mark it."

"I'll make note."

Joan moved back through the room. "Five pounds." She handed Briggs a small cloth bag. "Count it if you like. That makes her mine. You'll see the balance when she's safe in this room."

"You've got a trade." He took the bag and inventoried its contents with his thick fingers. "I'll let this tankard serve as a handshake." He drained the last of the liquor as he rose. As he clapped his soaking hat back onto his head, he moved next to where Winston sat. "And you, sir, would be advised to rethink helping me whilst there's time. That savage is apt to slit your throat for you soon enough if he's not tracked down."

"And then burned alive, like you're planning for the rest of them?"

Briggs stopped and glared. "That's none of your affair, sir. We're going to start doing what we must. How else are we to keep these Africans docile in future? Something's got to be done about these revolts."

He whirled abruptly and headed for the door. At that moment, the battered louvres swung inward and a harried figure appeared in the doorway, eyes frantic, disoriented. A few seconds pa.s.sed before anyone recognized Jeremy Walrond. His silk doublet was wet and bedraggled, his cavalier's hat waterlogged and drooping over his face. Before he could move, Briggs' pistol was out and leveled at his breast.

"Not another step, you wh.o.r.eson b.a.s.t.a.r.d, or I'll blow you to h.e.l.l." His voice boomed above the sound of the storm. "d.a.m.n me if I shouldn't kill you on sight, except I wouldn't squander the powder and shot." He squinted through the open doorway. "Where's Anthony? I'd have him come forward and meet me like a man, the royalist miscreant."

Jeremy's face flooded with fear. "He's . . .he's been taken on board the _Rainbowe_. I swear it." His voice seemed to crack. "By Powlett."

"By who?"

"A man named Powlett, the vice admiral. I think he's to be the new governor."

"Well, d.a.m.ned to them both." Briggs lowered the pistol guardedly, then shoved it back into his belt. "They're doubtless conspiring this very minute how best to squeeze every farthing of profit from our sugar trade."

"I . . . I don't know what's happening. They've made the Windwards as much as prisoners. Powlett's already disarmed the Regiment, and Colonel Morris is leading his infantry on the march to Bridgetown right now."

He stepped gingerly in through the doorway. "I came down to try and find Miss Bedford. At the compound they said she might be . . ."

"I doubt Katherine has much time for you." Winston looked up from his chair. "So you'd best get on back to Oistins before I decide to start this little war all over again."

"Oh, for G.o.d's sake let the lad be. He's not even wearin' a sword,"

Joan interjected, then beckoned him forward. "Don't let this bl.u.s.terin'

lot frighten you, darlin'. Come on in and dry yourself off."

"I've got to warn Katherine." He edged nervously toward Joan, as though for protection. His voice was still quavering. "We didn't expect this.

They'd agreed to terms. They said . . ."

"They lied." Winston drew out one of his pistols and laid it on the table before him. "And your gullible, ambitious royalist of a brother believed them. Haply, some others of us took our own precautions.

Katherine's safe, so you can go on back to your Roundheads and tell them they'll never find her."