_
Briggs reached for the letter. "What's his prattle about honor, by God!
This island's been betrayed by the very men who speak about it most."
He gazed around at the members of the Assembly. "They've already heard
our 'exceptions' and their reply was to invade. I propose we settle
this with arms, and then talk of honor."
"There's a threat in that letter, for all the soothing words."
A grizzled Assembly member spoke up, fingering his bandolier.
"Calvert's saying we're in a war against the might of England, with our
own people divided."
"Aye, but when you find out a dog you'd kick will bite back, you learn
to stand clear of him." Briggs waved him down. He thought again of the
years of profits that lay just ahead, if only English control could be
circumvented. "We've but to teach Cromwell a sound lesson, and he'll
let us be."
"But does this dog you speak of have enough bite to drive back a full-
scale invasion?" Heathcott peered around him at the other members. The
dark-beamed room grew silent as his question seemed to hang in the air.
No one knew the full strength of the invading forces, now that they had
been merged with the Windwards. And, more importantly, whether the
Barbados militia would have the stomach to meet them.
"He's here, Yor Worships." At that moment a thin, wiry servant in a
brown shirt appeared at the doorway. Behind him, in the hallway,
another man had just been ushered in. He was hatless and wearing a
powder-smeared jerkin. His face was drawn, but his eyes were intense.
Hugh Winston was now in full command of the Barbados militia,
commissioned by unanimous vote of the Assembly.
"Your servant, Captain." Bedford nodded a greeting. "We're waiting to
hear what you've managed to learn."
"My lads just got back. They say the Roundheads haven't started moving
upland yet. They're still encamped along the shore at Oistins, and
together with the Windwards they're probably no more than a thousand
strong."
"By God, we can stop them after all." Briggs squinted through the
candlelight. "What are they doing now? Preparing to march?"
"Doesn't appear so. At least not yet. They look to be waiting,
while they off-load some of the heavy ordnance from the _Marsten Moor_.
Their nine-pounders. The guns have already been hoisted up on deck and
made ready to bring ashore."
"There you have it, gentlemen," Briggs growled. "They'd try to lull us
with talk of negotiation, whilst they prepare to turn their ships' guns
against our citizens."
Bedford's eyes narrowed and he held up the letter. "Then what shall our
answer be? For my own part, I say if we want to stay our own masters,
we'll have to fight."
There were grave nods among the assembled men as Bedford turned to
Winston. "How does it stand with the militia?"
"I'd say we've got just about all the infantry and horse we're likely
to muster. I've gone ahead and issued what's left of the powder and
shot." He was still standing by the doorway. "We've got to move on out
tonight and deploy around their position with whatever men, horse, and
cannon we can manage, lest the weather change by morning and end our
mobility." He thumbed toward the east. "There're some dark clouds
moving in fast, and I don't care for the looks of them. There's some
wind out of the west, too, off the ocean. Though that may slow them
down a bit."
"What do you mean?" Briggs eyed him.
"It means the bay's doubtless picked up a little chop by now, so
Calvert and his officers may decide to wait till dawn to offload those
heavy guns. It could give us just enough time."
"Then I take it you'd have us move out now, in the dark?" Heathcott
nervously peered out the window, widening the half-open shutters.
"If we do, we've got a chance to deploy cannon on their perimeter, and
then hit them at dawn while they're still unprepared. Before they have
a chance to fortify their position with that ship ordnance. They'll
have the bay at their back and no heavy guns to speak of, save what's
in the breastwork."
"Then I formally move that we draft a reply to this letter and send it
over by one of our cavalry. Lest they mistake our resolve." Bedford's
voice was hard. "And then we let Captain Winston move on out with the
men."
"Aye, I second the motion." Heathcott scrambled to his feet, his eyes
ablaze. "Let's prepare a response right now and get on with it."
"It's done." Whittington turned to a plump Irish serving girt, who had
been standing agog in the kitchen doorway watching this meeting of the
Barbados Assembly in her master's parlor, and ordered quill and paper
to be brought from his study.
"Gentlemen." Bedford quieted the buzz in the room. "I propose we say
something along the lines of the following:
"I have read your letter and acquainted the Council and Assembly with
it, and now return their resolution to you, in which they do continue
with much wondering that what is rightfully theirs by law--being the
governing of this island as it presently is--should be denied them."
"Aye," Briggs inteijected. "And make mention of Anthony Walrond, if you
please. Lest he think we're not sensible that he's sold the island for
his personal gain."
"Patience, sir." Bedford gestured for quiet. "I would also add the
following:
"Neither hath the Treachery of one Man so far discouraged us, nor the
easiness of certain others being seduced by him so much weakened us, as
that We should accept a dishonorable Peace. And for the procuring of a
just Peace, none shall endeavor more than the lawful Assembly of
Barbados or
Your Servant,