"Perhaps some of these infantry will choose to stay and settle. With the Spaniards all about, this island's going to require . . ."

"This set of layabouts? I doubt one in a hundred could tell a ca.s.sava root from a yam, a.s.suming he had the industry to

hoe one up." Briggs moved to the railing and surveyed the wide plain spreading up from the harbor. "This batch'd not be worth tuppence the dozen for clearing stumps and planting."

. . . But, he found himself thinking, maybe things would be different if you went about it properly. And brought in some Africans. Enough strapping blacks and some of these savannahs might well be set to production. And if not along here, then maybe upland. The hills look as green as Barbados was thirty years ago. Could it be I was wise to come after all? d.a.m.n Hispaniola. This place could be the ideal spot to prove what I've always believed.

Aye, he told himself. Barbados showed there's a fortune to be made with sugar. But what's really called for is land, lots of it; and half the good plots there're still held by d.a.m.n'd ten-acre freeholders. The New World is the place where a man has to think in larger terms. So what if I sold off those Barbados acres, packed up the sugar mill and brought it here, cut a deal with the Dutchmen for a string of quality Nigers on long credit . . .?

All we need do is send these few Spaniards packing, and this island could well be a gold mine.

"If you'll pardon me, Mister Briggs, I'll have to be going ash.o.r.e now."

Calvert nodded, then turned for the companionway.

"As you will, sir." Briggs glanced back at the island. "And if it's all the same, I think I'll be joining you. To take the measure of this fish we've snagged and see what we've got."

"You might do better to wait, Mister Briggs, till we've gained a clear surrender from the Spaniards."

"Well, sir, I don't see any Spaniards lurking about there on the plain." He headed down the companionway after Calvert. "I'm the civilian here, which means I've got responsibilities of my own."

"Hugh, are we going to just stand here and let these b.a.s.t.a.r.ds rob us?"

Katherine was angrily gripping her musket. "We took this fort, not Morris and his Roundheads."

Winston stood staring at the warships, his mind churning. Why the h.e.l.l were they here? Cromwell had better things to do with his navy than hara.s.s a few Spanish planters.

Whatever they want, he vowed to himself, they'll d.a.m.n well have to fight for it.

"'Tis the most cursed sight I e'er laid eyes on." Guy Bartholomew had moved beside them. "Mayhaps that rumor about some fleet trying Santo Domingo was all too true. An' when they fail'd at that, they decided to pillage Jamaica instead."

Next to him was Timothy Farrell, spouting Irish oaths down on the ships. "Aye, by the Holy Virgin, but whatever happen'd, I'll wager you this--it's the last we're like to see of any ransom for the town." His eyes were desolate. "The d.a.m.n'd English'll be havin' it all. They've never heard of dividing a thing fair and square, that I promise you."

"Well, they can't squeeze a town that's empty." Winston turned to Bartholomew. "So why don't we start by giving this navy a little token of our thanks. Set these Spaniards free to go back and help clear out Villa de la Vega. By the time the d.a.m.n'd Roundheads get there, there'll be nothing to find save empty huts."

"Well, sir, it's a thought, I'll grant you. Else we could try and get over there first ourselves, to see if there's any gold left to be had.

These Spaniards' Romanish churches are usually good for a few trinkets." The _boucanier_ looked down again. A line of longboats was now edging across the bay below, headed for the sh.o.r.e beneath the fort.

He glanced back at his men. "What say you, lads?"

"There's no point to it, Cap'n, as I'm a Christian." One of the grizzled _boucaniers_ behind him spoke up. "There're lads here aplenty who've sailed for the English navy in their time, an' I'm one of 'em.

You can be sure we'd never get past those frigates with any Spanish gold. All we'd get is a rope if we tried riflin' the town now, or holdin' it for ransom. When an honest tar borrows a bra.s.s watch fob, he's hang'd for theft; when the generals steal a whole country, it's called the spoils of war. No sir, I've had all the acquaintance I expect to with so-called English law. I warrant the best thing we can do now is try getting out of here whilst we can, and let the wh.o.r.esons have what they came to find. We took this place once, by G.o.d, and we can well do it again."

There was a murmur of concurrence from the others. Some experienced seamen were already eyeing the stone corridor, reflecting on the English navy's frequent practice of impressing any able-bodied man within reach whenever it needed replacements.

"Well, sir, there's some merit in what you say." Bartholomew nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe the wisest course right now is to try and get some canvas on our brigs before this navy starts to nose about our anchorage over at the other side of the _cayo_.

"That's the best, make nae mistake." The Scotsman MacEwen interjected nervously. "An' if these Spaniards care to trouble keeping the d.a.m.n'd Roundheads entertained whilst we're doin' it, then I'd gladly hand them back every gunner here, with a skein of matchcord in the trade.

Whatever's in the town can be d.a.m.n'd."

"Then it's done." Winston motioned for the Spanish commander. Captain Juan Vicente de Padilla advanced hesitantly, renewed alarm in his dark eyes.

"Do you wish to receive my sword now, capitan?"

"No, you can keep it, and get the h.e.l.l out of here. Go on back to Villa de la Vega and let your governor know the English navy's invaded."

"Capitan, I do not understand your meaning." He stood puzzling. "Your speech is Ingles, but you are not part of those _galeones_ down below?"

"We're not English. And I can promise you this island

hasn't heard the last of us." Winston thumbed toward the corridor. "Now you'd best be out of here. I don't know how long those Roundheads expect to tarry."

With a bow of supreme relief, Captain de Padilla turned and summoned his men. In moments the Spanish gunners were jostling toward the corridor, each wanting to be the first to evacuate his family and wealth from Villa de la Vega.

"In G.o.d's name, Hugh, don't tell me you're thinking to just hand over this fort!" Katherine was still watching the sh.o.r.e below, where infantrymen were now forming ranks to begin marching up the slope. "I, for one, intend to stand and fight as long as there's powder and shot."

"Don't worry, we've got the heavy guns. And their d.a.m.ned warships are under them." He signaled to Tom Canninge, master gunner of the _Defiance_. "Have the boys prime and run out these culverin. We need to be ready."

"Good as done." Canninge shouted an order, and his men hurriedly began hauling the tackles left lying on the stone pavement by the Spanish gunners, rolling back the iron cannon to reload.

By now the infantry had begun advancing up the hill. Winston watched them long enough through the spa.r.s.e trees to recognize Richard Morris at their head.

So we meet again, you Roundhead b.a.s.t.a.r.d. But this time _I_ start out holding the ordnance.

"Masters, cover us with your muskets." He motioned for Katherine and together they started for the corridor. The hallway had grown lighter now, a pale gold in the early light of dawn. At the far end the heavy oak door had been left ajar by the departing Spanish gunners.

As they stepped into the sunshine, Atiba suddenly appeared beside them, concern on his face. "Senhor, I think it is no longer safe at the d.a.m.nable _vigia_ on the hill. I must go back up there now."

"All right." Winston waved him on. "But see you're quick on it."

"I am a man of the mountains. When I wish, I can travel faster than a Spaniard with a horse." He began to sprint across the clearing, headed for the trees.

"Katy, hang on to this." Winston drew one of the pistols from his belt and handed it to her. "We'll talk first, but if we have to shoot, the main thing is to bring down Morris. That ought to scatter them."

As they rounded the corner of the fort. Colonel Richard Morris emerged through the trees opposite, leading a column of infantry. The commander froze when he saw them. He was raising his musket, preparing to give order to fire, when his face softened into a disbelieving grin.

"G.o.d's blood. n.o.body told me you'd decided to join up with this a.s.sault." He examined them a moment longer, then glanced up at the breastwork, where a line of seamen had appeared, holding flintlocks. He stared a moment in confusion before looking back at Winston. "I suppose congratulations are in order. We had no idea 'twas you and your men who'd silenced their guns. You've doubtless saved us a hot ordnance battle. b.l.o.o.d.y fine job, I must say." He lowered his musket and strode warily forward. "What have you done with all the Spaniards?"

"They're gone now." Winston's hand was on the pistol in his belt.

"Then the place is ours!" Morris turned and motioned the infantrymen forward. "d.a.m.ned odd I didn't notice your . . . frigate in amongst our sail. We could've used you at Hispaniola." He tried to smile. "I'd say, sir, that an extra month's pay for you and your lads is in order, even though I take it you joined us late. I'll see to it myself."

"You can save your eighteen shillings. Colonel. We plan to hold this fort, and maybe the island to go with it. But you're free to rifle the town if you think you can still find anything."

"You plan to hold what, sir?" Morris took a cautious step backward.

"Where you're standing. It's called Jamaica. We got here first and we intend to keep however much of it strikes our fancy."

"Well, sir, that's most irregular. I see you've still got all the bra.s.s I recall." He gripped the barrel of his musket. "I've already offered you a bonus for exceptional valor. But if you're thinking now to try and rebel against my command here, what you're more likely to earn is a rope around your neck."