"Well phrased, as I'm a Christian." Whittington gravely nodded his
approval. "They can mull over it all night if they choose. But there'll
be no mistaking our resolve come the morrow."
Bedford called for a show of hands. Every man in the room signified
approval.
"Done." He quickly penned the letter, signed it with a flourish, and
passed it to Whittington. "Have one of your servants call in the
captain of the horse. We'll send this down to Oistins right now. He can
have his man take along the safe-conduct pass Calvert sent with his
letter."
While Whittington rang for the servants, Bedford motioned toward
Winston. "Now, Captain. You've got your approval to move the militia. I
propose we all move with it." He turned once more to the room. The men
were already stirring, donning bandoliers and sorting out their
muskets. "This meeting of the Barbados Assembly is hereby adjourned. It
may be the last we ever hold, if we don't succeed tomorrow. May God
preserve democracy in the Americas. Let's all say a prayer, gentlemen,
as we ride."
Winston turned without a word and led the way as the group of black-
hatted men moved out into the evening air. A crisp breeze had sprung up
from the east, providing a cooling respite from the heat of the day.
Horses neighed and pawed in the lantern light, while the night was
alive with the rattle of bandoliers. He strode to a circle of men
waiting by the cistern at the side of the house and called for the
officers. He was passing orders to mount and ride when a buzz of
confusion rose up from the direction of the Assemblymen emerging from
the house. There were murmurs and pointing.
"God's life, it's peculiar." Heathcott was gazing toward the north, in
the direction of the upland plantations. "I've never seen anything like
it."
Winston turned to look. Across the horizon a dull glow flickered out of
the dark. Before he had time to puzzle over what it might be, he heard
a chorus of shouts from the servants' quarters at the rear of the
house.
"Master Whittington! There's a fire in the southern sixty. In the
cane!"
"Damn me!" Whittington trotted past the side of the house to look. At
the base of the hill the red tongues of flame could be seen forking
upward in the dark. "I was fearful something just like this might
happen, what with all these careless militiamen idling about."
"The militia's not camped down there, sir." Briggs had moved alongside
him to look. Suddenly his eyes went wild. "God's blood! Is that another
fire we're seeing there in the north!"
Whittington watched the whip of flames a moment longer, as
though disbelieving, and then his body seemed to come alive. "We've got
to get some of these men down there and dig a break in the cane fields.
Stop it before it reaches this house."
"I'm more worried about it reaching our heavy ordnance." Winston gazed
down the road toward the militia's encampment. "We've got to get our
men and gun carriages mobilized and out of here."
"I demand that some of these layabouts stay to try and save my cane."
Whittington pointed toward the crowd of militiamen at the foot of the
rise. "They're doubtless the one's responsible."
"That little cane fire will bum itself out soon enough." Winston raised
his hand. "We've got to move these men and supplies now. We can't wait
around fighting cane fires."
"Damn me. God damn me." Briggs' voice was shrill as he pushed his way
through the crowd toward Winston. "I'm beginning to think that glow we
see in the north might well be a blaze on some of _my _acres."
"Well, even if it is, there's not much we can do now."
"Damned if there's not." Briggs peered again at the horizon, then back
at Winston. "I've got to take my men over, as quick as we can ride.
Maybe we can still save it."
"You'll not have a single horse, or man." Winston raised his hand. "As
soon as I brief my field commanders, we're moving on Oistins. We have
to be in position, with our cannon, before dawn. If we don't attack
them before they've managed to offload the ordnance, we'll forfeit what
little chance we've got."
"Are you mad, sir? We let these fires go unattended and we could
well lose everything." Briggs gazed around at the Assemblymen. "There's
the looks of a conspiracy in this. It's apt to be some sort of
uprising, of the indentures or maybe even these damned Africans. Which
means that we've got to protect our homes."
Winston watched in dismay as the assembled men began to grumble
uncertainly. Several were already calling for their horses. The night
took on an air of fear.
"Let me tell you this, gentlemen." Winston's voice sounded above the
din. "We've got but one chance to stop the invasion, and that's to move
our heavy guns and militia tonight. You have to decide whether you're
going to do it."
"Damn me, sir, it's a matter of priorities." Briggs' voice was almost a
shout. "If we're burned out, it'll take us years to rebuild. Reckoning
with Parliament would be nothing compared with the effects of a fire,
or a slave uprising. I'll wager there's some kind of island-wide
rebellion afoot, like we had a few years back." He was untying the
reins of his horse from the porch railing. "I'm riding home and taking
my indentures." He glared at Winston. "The few I've got left. I've got
a house and a sugar mill, and I intend to protect them."
"I need that horse." Winston stood unmoving. "Tonight."
"This nag belongs to me, sir." Briggs swung heavily into the saddle.
"You'll get her when I'm done, not a minute before."
Several of the other militiamen were nervously mounting, having
realized with alarm that their own plantation houses were unprotected.
Winston whirled on Bedford. "Can't we stop this? If every man here with
a house to worry about abandons us, I'll have nobody save my own men.
Am I expected to fight Walrond's regiment, and the Commonwealth, all by
myself?"
"I can't stop them." Bedford shook his head. "Maybe we can reassemble
in the morning, assuming this rebellion matter can be contained."
"But morning's going to be too late. By then the sea may let up, and
they'll have their heavy ordnance in place." Winston felt his gut
tighten as he watched the cavalry and militia begin to disperse into
the night. "They'll slice us to ribbons with cannon fire if we try to
storm their position then."
"This is not an army. It's a militia." Bedford sighed. "No man here can
be ordered to fight."
"Well, you've lost it. Before you even began." He gave the governor a
quick salute, then seized the reins of his gelding. The horse was still
lathered from the run back from Little Island to Bridgetown. "If it's
going to be every man for himself, I've got my own affairs to look to.
So damned to them. And to their sugar and slaves."
"Where are you going?" Bedford stared at him gloomily.
"If this war's as good as lost--which it is--then I've got to get the
_Defiance _afloat. As soon as I can." He vaulted into the saddle, and
gave his horse the spur. "The Americas just swapped liberty for sugar.
They can have it."