The jagged peninsula known as Lookout Point projected off the
southwestern tip of Barbados, separating the windy Atlantic on the
south from the calm of the leeward coast on the west. At its farthest
tip, situated on a stone cliff that rose some hundred feet above the
entrance to Carlisle Bay, were the breastwork and gun emplacements.
Intended for harbor defense only, its few projecting cannon all pointed
out toward the channel leading into the bay, past the line of coral
reefs that sheltered the harbor on its southern side.
From the deck of the _Defiance_, at anchor near the river mouth and
across the bay from the peninsula, the gunfire seemed to be coming from
the direction of the new Assembly Room, a thatched-roof stone building
up the hill beyond the breastwork. Constructed under the authority of
Governor Dalby Bedford, it housed the General Assembly of Barbados,
which consisted of two representatives elected from each of the eleven
parishes on the island. All free men in possession of five acres or
more could vote, ballots being cast at the parish churches.
While Winston unlocked the gun racks in the fo'c'sle and began issuing
the muskets and the bandoliers of powder and shot, John Mewes ordered
the two longboats lashed amidships readied and launched. The seamen
lined up single file at the doorway of the fo'c'sle to receive their
muskets, then swung down the rope ladders and into the boats. Winston
took his place in one and gave command of the other to John Mewes.
As the men strained against the oars and headed across the bay, he
studied the row of cannon projecting out over the moonlit sea from the
top of the breastwork. They've never been used, he thought wryly,
except maybe for ceremonial salutes. That's what they call harbor
defenses! It's a mercy of God the island's so far windward from the
Main that the Spaniards've never troubled to burn the place out.
He sat on the prow of the longboat, collecting his thoughts while he
tasted the air and the scent of the sea. The whitecaps of the bay
slipped past in the moonlight as they steered to leeward of the line of
Dutch merchantmen anchored near the shore. He then noticed a bob of
lanterns on the southeast horizon and realized it was an arriving
merchantman, with a heading that would bring it directly into the
harbor. He watched the lights awhile, marveling at the Dutch trading
zeal that would cause a captain to steer past the reefs into the harbor
in the hours after midnight. He congratulated himself he'd long ago
given up trying to compete head-on with the Hollanders. They
practically owned the English settlements in the Americas. Scarce
wonder Cromwell's first order of business was to be rid of them.
The sound of the tide lapping against the beach as the two longboats
neared the shore beneath the breastwork brought his attention back.
When they scraped into the shallows, he dropped off the prow and waded
through the knee-high surf that chased up the sand in wave after wave.
Ahead the beach glistened white, till it gave way to the rocks at the
base of the Point.
John Mewes puffed along close at his heels, and after him came the
first mate, Dick Hawkins, unshaven but alert, musket at the ready.
Close behind strode tall Edwin Spune, master's mate, a musket in each
hand, followed by the rest. In all, some twenty of Winston's men had
crossed the bay with him. He ordered the longboats beached, then called
the men together and motioned for quiet.
"Are all muskets primed?"
"Aye." Spurre stepped forward, holding his two muskets up as though for
inspection. "An' every man's got an extra bandolier of powder an' shot.
We're ready for whatever the whoresons try." He glanced up the rise,
puzzled, still not understanding why the captain had assembled them.
But Hugh Winston liked having his orders obeyed.
"Good." Winston walked down the line. "Spread out along the shore and
wait. I'm going up to see what the shooting's about. Just stand ready
till you hear from me. But if you see me fire a pistol shot, you be up
that hill like Jack-be-nimble. Is that clear?"
"You mean us against all that bleedin' lot up there?" John Mewes
squinted toward the dark rise. "There's apt to be half their militia up
there, Cap'n, from the sound of it."
"Did I hear you question an order, John? You know ship's rules. They go
for officers too." He turned to the other men. "Should we call a vote
right here?"
"God's life." Mewes pushed forward, remembering Winston's formula for
discipline on the _Defiance_. He didn't even own a cat-o'nine-tails,
the lash used by most ship captains for punishment. He never touched an
offender. He always just put trial and punishment to a show of hands by
the men--whose favorite entertainment was keelhauling any seaman who
disobeyed Captain's orders, lashing a line to his waist and ducking him
under the hull till he was half drowned. "I wasn't doin' no
questioning. Not for a minute. I must've just been mumbling in my
sleep."
"Then try and stay awake. I'm going up there now, alone. But if I need
you, you'd better be there, John. With the men. That's an order."
"Aye." Mewes performed what passed for a salute, then cocked his musket
with a flourish.
Winston loosened the pistols in his belt, checked the packet containing
the sight bills and the other papers he had brought, then headed
directly up the rise. The approach to Lookout Point was deserted, but
up the hill, behind a new stack of logs, he could see the shadowy
outline of a crowd. The barricade, no more than fifty yards from the
Assembly Room, was in the final stages of construction, as men with
torches dragged logs forward. Others, militia officers, were stationed
behind the logs with muskets and were returning pistol fire from the
half-open doorway of the Assembly Room.
Above the din he could hear the occasional shouts of Benjamin Briggs,
who appeared to be in charge. Together with him were the members of the
Council and officers from their regiments. The command of the militia
was restricted to major landholders: a field officer had to own at
least a hundred acres, a captain fifty, a lieutenant twenty-five, and
even an ensign had to have fifteen.
On the barricade were straw-hatted indentures belonging to members of
the Council, armed only with pikes since the planters did not trust
them with muskets. Winston recognized among them many whom he had
agreed to take.
The firing was sputtering to a lull as he approached. Then Briggs
spotted him and yelled out. "You'd best be gone, sir. Before someone in
the Assembly Room gets a mind to put a round of pistol shot in your
breeches."
"I'm not part of your little war."
"That you're decidedly not, sir. So we'll not be requiring your
services here tonight."
"What's the difficulty?" Winston was still walking directly toward
them.
"It's a matter of the safety of Barbados. I've said it doesn't concern
you."
"Those indentures concern me. I don't want them shot."
"Tell that to the Assembly, sir. We came here tonight offering to take
Dalby Bedford under our care, peacefully. To protect him from elements
on the island who're set to disown Parliament. But some of the hotheads
in there mistook our peaceful purpose and opened fire on us."
"Maybe they think they can 'protect' him better than you can." Another
round of fire sounded from the doorway of the Assembly Room and thudded
into the log barricade. When two of the planters cursed and fired back,
the door was abruptly slammed shut.
"It's the Assembly that's usurped rightful rule here, sir, as tonight
should amply show. When they no longer represent the true interests of
Barbados." Briggs glared at him. "We're restoring proper authority to
this island, long overdue."
"You and the Council can restore whatever you like. I'm just here to
take care of my indentures, before you manage to have some of them
killed."
"They're not yours yet, sir. The situation's changed. We're not letting
them go whilst the island's unsettled."
"The only unsettling thing I see here are all those muskets." He
reached into the pocket of his jerkin and lifted out the leather packet
containing the sight drafts. "So we're going to make that transfer,
right now."
"Well, I'm damned if you'll have a single man. This is not the time
agreed." Briggs looked around at the other members of the Council.
Behind them the crowd of indentures had stopped work to listen.
"The sight bills are payable on demand. We've settled the terms, and
I'm officially calling them in." Winston passed over the packet.
"You've got plenty of witnesses. Here're the sight bills. As of now,
the indentures are mine." He pulled a sheaf of papers from the other
pocket of his jerkin. ' 'You're welcome to look over the drafts while I
start checking off the men."
Briggs seized the leather packet and flung it to the ground. Then he
lifted his musket. "These indentures are still under our authority.
Until we say, no man's going to take them. Not even. . ."
A series of musket shots erupted from the window of the Assembly Room,
causing Briggs and the other planters to duck down behind the log
barricade. Winston remained standing as he called out the first name on
the sheet.
"Timothy Farrell."