thinking about Hugh Winston. The sight of him firing down on the
English navy through the mists of dawn had erased all her previous
contempt. Never before had she seen a man so resolute. She remembered
again the way he had taken her arm, there at the last. Why had he done
it?
She turned to study him, his lined face still smeared with oily traces
of powder smoke, and told herself they were a matched pair. She had
determination too. He'd soon realize that, even if he didn't now.
At the moment he was deep in a private conference with Johan Ruyters,
who had asked to be present to speak for Dutch trading interests. The
two of them had worked together all day, through the sultry heat that
always preceded a storm. Winston and his men had helped heave the heavy
Dutch guns onto makeshift barges and ferry them ashore, to be moved up
the coast with ox-drawn wagons. Now he looked bone tired. She could
almost feel the ache he must have in his back.
As she stood studying Winston, her thoughts wandered again to Anthony.
He had worked all day too, riding along the shore and reviewing the
militia deployed to defend key points along the coast.
What was this sudden ambivalence she felt toward him? He was tall, like
Winston, and altogether quite handsome. More handsome by half than Hugh
Winston, come to that. No, it was something about Winston's manner that
excited her more than Anthony did. He was . . . yes, he was dangerous.
She laughed to realize she could find that appealing. It violated all
the common sense she'd so carefully cultivated over the years. Again
she found herself wondering what he'd be like as a lover. . . .
"And, sir, what then? After we've offered up our horses and our muskets
and servants for your militia?" One of the members of the Assembly
suddenly rose and faced the Council. It was John Russell, a tall,
rawboned freeholder who held fifteen acres on the north side. "Who's to
protect our wives and families after that?" He paused nervously to
clear his throat and peered down the table. "To be frank, gentlemen,
we're beginning to grow fearful of all these Africans that certain of
you've bought and settled here now. With every white man on the island
mustered and on the coast, together with all our horses and our
muskets, we'll not have any way to defend our own if these new slaves
decide to stage a revolt. And don't say it can't happen. Remember that
rising amongst the indentures two years ago. Though we promptly hanged
a dozen of the instigators and brought an end to it, we've taught no
such lesson to these blacks. If they were to start something, say in
the hills up in mid-island, we'd be hard pressed to stop them from
slaughtering who they wished with those cane knives they use." He
received supportive nods from several other Assemblymen. "We'd be
leaving ourselves defenseless if we mustered every able-bodied man and
horse down onto the shore."
"If that's all that's troubling you, then you can ease your minds."
Briggs pushed back his hat and smiled. "All the blacks've been confined
to quarters, to the man, for the duration. Besides, they're scattered
over the island, so there's no way they can organize anything. There's
no call for alarm, I give you my solemn word. They're unarmed now and
docile as lambs."
"But what about those cane knives we see them carrying in the fields?"
"Those have all been collected. The Africans've got no weapons. There's
nothing they can do save beat on drums, which seems to keep them
occupied more and more lately, anyhow." He looked around the room,
pleased to see that the reassuring tone in his voice was having the
desired effect. "I think we'd best put our heads to more pressing
matters, such as the condition of the breastworks here and along the
coasts." He turned toward Winston. "You've not had much to say tonight,
sir, concerning today's work. I, for one, would welcome a word on the
condition of our ordnance."
All eyes at the table shifted to Winston, now standing by the window
and holding a shutter pried open to watch as the winds and rain bent
the tops of the tall palms outside. Slowly he turned, his lanky form
seeming to lengthen, and surveyed the room. His eyes told Katherine he
was worried; she'd begun to know his moods.
"The ordnance lent by the Dutchmen is in place now." He thumbed at
Ruyters. "For which I'd say a round of thanks is overdue."
"Hear, hear." The planters' voices chorused, and Ruyters nodded his
acknowledgement. Then he whispered something quickly to Winston and
disappeared out the door, into the rain. The seaman waited, watching
him go, then continued, "You've got gunners--some my men and some
yours--assigned now at the Point, as well as at Jamestown and over at
Oistins Bay. I figure there's nowhere else they can try a landing in
force . . . though they always might try slipping a few men ashore with
longboats somewhere along the coast. That's why you've got to keep the
militia out and ready."
"But if they do try landing in some spot where we've got no cannon,
what then, sir?" Briggs' voice projected above the howl of the storm.
"You've got ordnance in all the locations where they can safely put in
with a frigate. Any other spot would mean a slow, dangerous approach.
But if they try it, your militia should be able to meet them at the
water's edge and turn them back. That is, if you can keep your men
mustered." He straightened his pistols and pulled his cloak about him.
"Now if it's all the same, I think I'll leave you to your
deliberations. I've finished what it was I'd offered to do."
"One moment. Captain, if you please." Anthony Walrond stepped in front
of him as the crowd began to part. "I think you've done considerably
more than you proposed. Unless it included basely betraying the
island."