keithbrough - Tumblr blog

keithbrough · 4 years ago

Text

Anchors to Windward Chapter 1

Henry Jennings, Captain and Master in Ballast of the Sloop, Diamond out of Jamaica, entered the Bristol Man, a tavern or ordinary on Queen street directly opposite the blue expanse of Kingston Harbor. He was joined by Lawrence Prince, a merchant captain with a controlling interest in the Diamond. They had barely sat down at their usual table when Alice, the owner and proprietor of the ordinary, stepped out of the kitchen and brought over a rum punch and a glass of Madeira. Henry and Lawrence had conducted enough business in the Bristol Man during the last few months for her to accurately predict their taste.

Henry thanked her with a smile before she disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Now, would you tell me who we’re meeting? And why the rush? I barely had time to set anchor before you accosted me,” Henry asked.

“I’m not sure. John never said his name. He did mention something about the governor’s interest.”

Henry sighed. He’d managed to keep from running afoul of Governor Hamilton’s goons since he arrived in Jamaica three months ago. Apparently his luck had finally run out.

“To be honest I don’t think they’re interested in you, per se.” Lawrence motioned out the window to the Salisbury Prize, a forth rate ship-of-the-line riding low in the water across the way. Henry had sailed into Kingston under the safety of her flag that very morning, returning from a three month cruise to the Bay of Campeche to cut dyewood. “What happened on that cruise?”

Henry shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing of note. I know the Salisbury Prize seized the Sina somewhere off the coast of Cuba a few days before we joined the convoy.”

“What did she do?”

“Tortured some Spaniards from what I gathered.”

Lawrence shook his head. “That’s not good.”

“The Sina was one of the Governor’s commissions.”

Lawrence had barely finished his sentence when two men entered the room. Henry immediately recognized Doctor John Stewart, a swarthy, long faced man who commonly sported a long curly brown periwig which framed his face like a sheepish lion. The doctor was one of Lawrence’s business partners and a man who could honestly claim to be one of Governor Hamilton’s oldest and dearest friends.

Lawrence and the doctor shook hands. “How’s the trade treating you these days?”

“Well enough,” Lawrence replied. “And who might this be.”

“Broderick. William Broderick.”

Henry knew the name. He was standing not two feet away from the Attorney General, one of the most feared officers in Governor Hamilton’s court for any smuggler, past or present.

“And you are the captain of the Diamond.”

“That’s correct. Henry Jennings, Master in Ballast.”

“Shall we have a seat? I just have a few questions.”

“Would you care for anything to drink?” Lawrence asked.

“Water.”

“The owner serves a fine Madeira,” Lawrence continued.

“Water will be fine,” the attorney general insisted. Lawrence offered no further argument. He called out for Alice to bring water and a mug of beer for the doctor who saw fit to place one of his cold clammy hands upon the widow’s rear when she set his drink upon the table. She quickly maneuvered her way around the table and away from the doctor’s uninvited advances while serving the Attorney General his drink before returning to the kitchen. Henry had also taken a liking to the Mistress of the Ordinary. She was well complimented in features that Henry found pleasant. Large breasts. Round hips. Red hair. Good teeth. She spoke French with an Irish accent. A prize to be had in any colony due to the disparity between men and women, a ratio that had remained two to one for most of Kingston’s history. She had come over from Bristol, England three years before with her husband, Edward Thatch who had disappeared into the blue vastness of the ocean shortly after their arrival. Lawrence had helped facilitate her status of widowhood through another friend, Richard Rigby, the provost marshal.

William waited until they were alone before setting his satchel upon the table. Henry hadn’t noticed the black leather bag when he entered the room. “This,” he said, “Is the Sina Galley.” He handed Henry a large, official looking document.

“It’s a copy of Governor Hamilton’s Commission,” Henry said.

“That’s right. You would recognize a Royal Commission from the Governor of Jamaica,” William removed a second document from his bag and held it up for Henry to see.

“It that mine?”

William nodded. “Have you ever read it?”

“Not the whole thing,” Henry replied after a brief pause.

William held it up to the sunlight streaming through the window. “It says ‘You are according to your Commission to commit, do and execute all manner of Acts of Hostility against Pirates, according to the Law of Arms. It says you are a loyal servant of the crown and the Royal Governor of Jamaica, a place where only the word of the Queen herself is superior to that of Governor Hamilton.”

Henry nodded. “Yes, I believe that is what it says. In plainer words, that is.”

“Do my words seem plain to you?”

The attorney general was a tall, dark haired man with a generous crop of grey hair spread throughout. He kept his thick, black mustache and eyebrows neatly trimmed, his fingernails sparkling white. There were no wasted movements in his efforts, no wasted words. Henry knew the attorney general’s reputation as a brutal taskmaster and a tireless conspirator in Governor Hamilton’s triumvirate, a club exclusive to himself, the Provost Marshall Richard Rigby, and the Dr. John Stewart. Henry was no stranger to confrontation and seldom flinched when engaging a ship at sea whether they flew a French or Spanish flag as long as the odds proved reasonable. Engaging the Attorney General, however, was akin to fighting deaf, blind, and precipitously outnumbered.

“Shall we speak plainly? You recently arrived from a cruise with one of Admiral Walker’s ships, the Salisbury Prize, which saw fit to seize the Sina Galley which was itself cruising along the southern coast of Cuba yet you had accompanied one of Commodore Littleton’s ships when you set out from port three months ago. How came that to be?”

“We set out for the Bay of Campeche to cut dyewood under the protection of the Captain Lestock but became separated from them after passing through the Straights of Yucatan during the return journey. We noticed a sail on the horizon the morning of August forth. She took us for Spanish guarda-costas and tracked us for the better part of a day before our identities were made clear to each other, and since our destination was the same Captain Clifton offered to escort us back to Jamaica.”

“So you are not one of Walker’s men?”

Henry considered the question for a moment. “No.

“What do you know of the Sina Galley?”

“Not much I’m afraid. The Salisbury Prize had seized her some days before our arrival. The captain and crew of the Sina were secured below-deck the entire time.”

“How do you know that?”

“Clifton invited me for supper one evening. He never mentioned the Sina but the slave woman still bore the scars from her tormentors.”

William’s interest was piqued and he leaned forward in his seat. “What slave woman?”

“The one taken by the Sina during her raid along the Cuban coast. She was the sum-total of their plunder.”

“And she was inside the captain’s quarters with you?”

“She prepared the meal. From the looks of it she was either sleeping on the captain’s floor on in his bed.”

“You don’t say,” William said while flashing the smallest of smiles. “And what made you think that?”

“They seemed rather familiar with each other throughout dinner.”

“Could you elaborate?”

“Well, the rest of the officers gave the slave woman a wide berth when she went about the room serving us, a sure sign that someone of significance had claimed her. I never saw them exchange pleasantries if that’s what you’re asking, but I got the clear impression that they were familiar with each other. Men and women just carry themselves differently when they begin sleeping with each other. Oh yes, I nearly forgot. I heard mention of a box of lace, the only other bit of plunder recovered from the Sina.”

“Was that in the quarters as well?”

“I didn’t see it.”

“That’s fine. The slave woman will be proof enough.”

“Proof enough for what?” Henry asked.

“Never you mind. Did you ever set foot aboard the Sina?”

“No.”

“Tell me more about this Captain Clifton.”

“A gentleman of about fifty years. Quiet I suppose. He offered only a few unsolicited thoughts throughout dinner. A company man as best I could tell. I think he said he was one of Admiral Walker’s men.”

“That would figure,” William said. “And he kept his ship in good repair?”

“I would say as much. We faced a stiff breeze during our return from Cuba and the Salisbury Prize kept pace with us. I suppose she could use a fresh set of canvas before too long, but who can’t these days.”

“Can you remember anything else?’

“I’m not sure what you want to know.”

“That’s all right,” William said. “I think I have enough to work with for now. Can I send word here if I have any more questions?”

Henry looked around the tavern and then up at the rooms on the balcony above. “That would be fine.”

“Very good.” The Attorney General stood up in his chair and offered Henry his hand. He said goodbye to the doctor and Lawrence in turn before taking up his satchel and heading out in the humid summer heat.

Henry waited a few seconds before turning to the doctor. “What was that all about?”

“The governor and Admiral Walker have been having at each other ever since Walker arrived from London.”

“Is Hamilton still angry about the affair with Creagh?” Captain David Creagh had been another of Governor Hamilton’s commissioned privateers. He’d been caught smuggling indigo from a plantation off the coast of French Hispaniola back in May by another of Sir Hovenden Walker’s naval officers.

“Mr. Brodrick’s current investigation makes it seem more than likely.”

Henry certainly didn’t want to become part and parcel to a running squabble between the two most powerful men in the British Caribbean. “He brought my commission,” Henry said.

“He most likely knows everything about you that there is to be known,” John said.

“He’s that thorough?” Lawrence asked.

“A tireless dog when he has a scent.”

Henry could feel the tension building up in his neck. His business practices had been all aboveboard during his tenure as Captain and Master in Ballast of the Diamond since he’d come aboard back in May. Henry had hoped that some of the more unsavory details from his past dealings would remain unobserved by Governor Hamilton’s new administration thanks to the notorious reputation the Colonial Records Office had acquired over the years. However, someone with significant influence and a vested interest, like the Attorney General could certainly comb his way through the maze of documents pertaining to his time aboard the Amirricide.

“Why did he bring my commission?”

“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about, Henry,” John said. “You aren’t on Walker’s side, are you?”

“I’m not even sure what that means? Aren’t we all pledged to the same side?”

“Things have changed in the months since you left Kingston. There is peace brewing in Ryswych.”

Henry chuckled.

“Is that funny?”

“Peace between France and England? I’ve been listening to that tired joke since I was four years old.”

“Are you so jaded that you believe this war to be endless?”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Doctor Stewart removed a bit of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and set it on the table. “It says it here in the Boston Newsletter plain as day.”

“Bits of paper do not make for peace. Men do that.”

“Kings and Queens do that. And if Queen Anne strikes a peace with France, then the hostilities will end. And whenever a particularly important bit of paper is signed, it is always best to find oneself on the right side of history.”

“And you think the governor is on the right side of history?”

Doctor Stewart stood up and took his leave from the two men. He raised his glass in salute. “God save the King,” and drank it down before turning and heading out the door, calling out a hearty goodbye to the mistress of the ordinary as he went.

“What’s that about?” Henry said.

“What, you mean ‘God save the King.’”

“You don’t have to repeat it.”

Lawrence shrugged his shoulders. “He’s a Jacobite, as if you couldn’t guess. Him, William Brodrick, the Governor. Half the government of Jamaica is peopled with Jacobites. Why do you think they kept asking you about loyalty?”

“That explains why he and Admiral Walker are at odds. He’s Rear Admiral of the White in the Queen’s Navy.”

“And Hamilton is the Royal Governor of Jamaica. Don’t try and understand politics. It’s far more devious and complicated than who’s a ‘Jacobite’ and who’s not.”

“I’m no Jacobite,” Henry said.

“Neither am I. I’m a businessman. And like all businessmen I like to keep things simple. Secure. Lending ear to the politics of a royal governor is a small price to pay for security.” “Even if he’s aligned with a traitor?”

“Some would argue that James has as much claim to the crown as Queen Anne. More so even, what with James being a man.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I believe in Parliament. Whoever takes the throne when Anne dies, whether it be James of the House Stuart, or George of the House of Hanover, I will still be an Englishman. There’s no need complicate things. We’ll be protected as long as his interests and ours remain the same. When Doctor Stewart or anyone else goes on about the Pretender, just listen and nod. You can be sure that Walker’s tenure in Jamaica will expire long before Governor Hamilton retires to London. People in his position usually encounter a merciful judgment when the wheels of power turn against them.”

“What exactly does Hamilton want?”

“He wants peace between France and England.”

“That again,” Henry said.

“John was right. Peace is coming. You were young when the wars first started. The world is changing. It feels different this time. The fight has gone out of most people. We’ll be at peace with France soon. And when that happens you’ll want to know who your friends are.”

“But a Jacobite?”

“Even a Jacobite. What you don’t know is that the governor is quietly assembling a fleet designed to be the Power in these waters. The Queen is not well. He will strike if and when she succumbs and deliver the West Indies to James. And if she dies without establishing a peace with France, they may be able to seize the throne.”

“You don’t really care about any of this, do you?”

“Of course not. I doubt John does either. He understands that there’s money to be made. If the governor wants arms shipped or treaties brokered, then we’ll be there to deliver them.”

“For a fee, of course.”

Lawrence smiled. “Like you already said, I don’t really care about any of this. And neither should you. The governor has sent out a call for supporters. You should be ready to answer that call.”

“You mean that’s why he sent Brodrick to speak with me.”

“The Attorney General doesn’t normally conduct such inquiries.”

The widow stepped out of the kitchen and headed over to their table. It was so early in the morning that they were still her only customers. “Another round?”

“No thank you. I should be going anyway,” Lawrence replied. “Although I believe he’ll be taking a room.”

“I am?” Henry said.

“You told Brodrick he could find you here.”

“He knows I came in on the Diamond. He held my commission in his hand for Christ’s sake. I just assumed I’d check in from time to time.”

“If you want to take that chance…” Lawrence said.

“You really think I need to stay?”

“What’s wrong with this place?” Lawrence turned to Alice. “They way he talks you’d think this was some kind of row house.”

“What? I never said that.”

“He certainly doesn’t think highly of it,” Alice agreed. “I’ll have you know my rooms are always kept in fine repair.”

“I’m sure they are. I just don’t sleep well on land.”

Lawrence stood up to take his leave and tapped Henry affectionately on the shoulder. “Well, friend, you’re about to lose some sleep cause you ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

Henry took his time finishing his drink before he quit his table. Alice tried her best to suppress a smile when he approached the counter. “May I help you sir? Would you care for a room?”

“Very funny.”

“You don’t have to look so disappointed. I only have one room available at the moment thanks to the curfew.”

“What curfew?”

“The governor’s curfew,” she said. “No one is allowed out after sundown.

“I know what a curfew is,” Henry said. “When did this happen?”

“Hamilton declared it back when we learned of the attack on Montserrat.”

“When was that?”

“One of Littleton’s men brought a French ship into port about a week ago. We learned of the attack then.”

Henry returned to his ship following his rather rushed conversation with Alice. The Diamond was a forty ton sloop capable of mounting four six pound guns. Lawrence Prince’s ship, the Anne Galley, was anchored nearby. The Anne could carry a hundred and twenty tons in her hold and could mount thirty cannon and could throw up to three hundred pounds of metal in a single broadside. They were merchant ships first and foremost and typically stored their guns belowdecks to make room for cargo and supplies.

Joseph, Henry’s first mate, had the ship’s manifest ready and handed it to Henry when the captain climbed up onto the helm. Henry despised the paperwork that went along with a captaincy. He normally pawned the thankless job off on Joseph or one of the other officers during a cruise, but he always double checked the final inventory while unlading a ship. He spent hours double checking the Diamond’s manifest and matching it to Josephs final inventory.

Dyewood, or hardwood as it was known, was famous for its reddish pulp which was used to make the red dye used to outfit British soldiers, the demand for which had only increased over the years. The Diamond had amassed forty tons of dyewood during their cruise to the Bay of Campeche. The market for dyewood normally paid three pounds a ton but Governor Hamilton, who had underwritten the cruise along with Commodore Littleton, had assured them a market of four pounds per ton. If everything went according to plan, Henry and his crew stood to make a fine profit for three months work.

When he was finally finished, Henry signaled Joseph to follow him into his quarters. Joseph was a tall, lean, dark skinned African originally from the Cape Verde islands. He was also a freed black, having purchased his freedom from Henry’s uncle five years before.

“I assume you know about the embargo already,” Henry asked after they stepped into his quarters.

“I do.”

“Did you also hear about Montserrat?”

“What happened?”

“The French assaulted it two months back. That’s why Hamilton declared this martial law. We’re trapped. We might be stuck with our whole cargo if the dyewood market is frozen.”

“What about the guarantee given by the governor?”

Henry shook his head. “Who knows where he stands right now. I just had a private meeting with William Brodrick. He was rather interested with the goings on aboard the Sina.”

“I imagine he would him being the Attorney General and all.”

“He was more interested in Captain Clifton and the Salisbury Prize than anything else.”

“I can think of another word for it,” Henry mused. “Get yourself into town once the cargo is offloaded and keep your ears open. Leave Matthew, Phillip, and Thomas and send the rest of the crew ashore. We’re not going anywhere until the governor lifts this embargo and I’m not going to pay half wages for men to lounge about the ship.” Henry looked through his porthole out at the forests of masts occupying the harbor. An embargo was perhaps the only effective tool a governor had at his disposal when faced with a pending invasion. It bolstered the town’s defenses by keeping friendly ships in port while preventing vital intelligence, like troop numbers and the state of a colony’s fortifications, from foreign agents.

“Cassard again?” Joseph said with a look of distaste.

“That’s the rumor. Apparently, Captain Lestock captured a French ship on the way back from the Bay of Campeche. Find out if Lestock kept the prisoners aboard the August or moved them to aboard the Defiance.” The Defiance, a third rate ship-of-the-line, was the flagship of Commodore Littleton, who had been the ranking officer in Jamaica before Hovenden Walker’s recent arrival.

“Begging your pardon sir, but you seemed to have developed a certain report with Captain Lestock during our cruise. Wouldn’t you be better suited for such reconnaissance?”

“I will if there’s time. I must return to Kingston before nightfall.”

Joseph looked at his askance. “What’s going on?”

“The governor placed a curfew and an embargo upon Jamaica in case of further French hostility.” Henry wiped the sweat from his forehead and shook his head in disgust. “Had I known we were sailing into an embargo I never would have returned to this stinking, sweaty place.”

“I heard about the embargo from one of the harbormaster’s men. But why must you return to town?

“The admiral picked a fight with the governor, or is it the other way around. Anyway, I don’t want to waste time talking about it. The short of it is, I have to stay in the sweaty armpit of Kingston until further notice.

“Are you staying with that Irish woman?” Joseph asked.

“That’s none of your concern.” Henry quickly changed the subject, “How’s the cargo?”

“The hold will be empty by tomorrow morning. I think we can get by without you for just this once,” Joseph said with a grin.

Henry’s first mate, an able bodied seaman of the first order, had been sailing ships and unlading cargo since before Henry was born. They had been sailing together ever since Henry began his apprenticeship aboard his uncle’s ship nearly twenty years ago.

“Of course you’re capable of unlading the ship yourself,” Henry said. “We’ll keep the hold empty for the time being. We don’t want be take possession of anything until we’re able to leave port.” He looked over at Fort Charles and a dozen or so warships of Her Majesties Navy scattered throughout the harbor. “We’re not going anywhere until the governor lifts this embargo.”

Henry opened his sea chest and packed his account book, ledger, and journal into a large black leather satchel along with a change of clothes and a dog eared copy of Don Quixote. He also took up his spyglass and sextant, wrapped them both in a second spare shirt, and packed it with his books.

“Do you really think you be taking many sun sights while on land,” Joseph joked.

“They were gifts,” Henry said.

It was about an hour before sundown when Henry returned to the Bristol Man. He recognized some familiar faces amongst the crowd of seamen and laborers that frequented the alleys and byways of Kingston. He went up to the bar where Alice and an old black slave named Jezebel were waiting on customers.

“You’re back,” Alice said.

“Yes.

She motioned to his satchel. “Is that all your baggage?”

“For now.”

She turned to Jezebel. “I’m going to show him to his room. Just holler if you need anything.” Then she grabbed a ring of keys from behind the bar and led him through the crush of bodies and up the stairs to the L shaped balcony above the main room.

“As you can see it has reasonable bed, a table and chair for writing. A rocking chair. A looking glass. It also has a balcony overlooking the harbor. The door at the far end leads to my room.” She opened the door and Henry stepped out to see for himself. “You can count on a steady breeze off the harbor most nights if the heat bothers you.”

“How much,” he said when he came back inside.

“I let this room at a crown per week.”

Henry took a seat in the rocking chair and sighed. He did appreciate a good rocker, but at a crown per week he hoped his sojourn would be brief. He allowed himself a few extra seconds to relax when he noticed a hook screwed into the far wall. “What is that for?”

“A hammock,” Alice answered. “There’s another hook behind you.”

“You have a hammock?”

“We do for those who want it.”

“I definitely want it,” he said.

“Not a problem.” Alice called downstairs for the hammock and a few minutes later Alice’s slave, an old black woman named Jezebel, carried it up to the room.

Henry had always found it difficult to sleep in what he thought of as and “English bed,” preferring the coolness and comfort of a hammock. Alice and Jezebel hung the hammock on the hooks. Henry climbed inside and was put instantly at ease by the familiar sway.

“You’re lucky. This is the only room equipped for it.”

“Lucky at a crown per week,” Henry muttered mostly to himself. “It’s perfect.”

“Would you care for anything else?”

“I haven’t eaten anything since this morning.”

“I’ll have Jezebel make something up for you. How do you fare with turtle meat?”

“Turtle would be just fine.”

The two women went back downstairs and closed the door behind them. Henry took a moment to unpack his belongings before stepping out onto the balcony. He settled into one of the wicker chairs, opened his book, and waited for his supper to arrive. A few minutes later someone came knocking.

“I’m out on the landing,” he yelled. A second later Alice stepped onto the patio with his food and a glass of Madeira. She set his supper down on the small table beside him. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Depends on the question.”

“Who was the other man with you today? He didn’t seem like the sort you normally associate with.”

“Are you sure you want to know.”

“I make it a point to know a little something about the people who do business in my establishment.”

“And what is it you think you know about me?”

“Enough to know that you’d much rather be aboard your ship right now.”

“Fair enough. His name is William Brodrick.”

“The Attorney General. Are you in any kind of trouble?”

“I hope not.”

“Do you think he’ll be coming back?”

“I’m not sure,” Henry said honestly.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone else. It would certainly prove bad for business if it got out that he’d been here.”

“I’m certainly not about to tell anyone.” Neither of them would benefit from a public association with Jamaica’s top prosecutor.

She nodded.

“Well, if you don’t need anything else, I’ll excuse myself.”

“I should be fine,” Henry said.

“You can leave the dishes here. I’ll come back for them later.”

Henry spent the rest of the evening watching the sunset and the hundreds of people mill about the wharf from the porch above the Bristol Man. Everyone added some quickness to their step as they rushed to complete their business before sunset. The rural portions of Jamaica were probably barely affected by the curfew since most turned in before sunset anyway whereas towns like Kingston never slept, at least not down at the wharf, where deals were made and merchandise exchanged day or night. There were eight or nine blacks or tawny skinned natives to every Englishman or Scot, all of them glistening in the heat.

The Caribbean was known for it’s a notoriously torrid climate. Sugar flourished there. Lemons, limes, grapefruit, tomatoes and countless of other tropical fruits thrived in the endless heat. A heat Henry despised. The sweat was constant during the long summer months, August being the worst of the lot. Most of the original colonists whether they were French, Spanish, Dutch or Dane, had done their best to found their settlements to windward of the cooling Atlantic breezes. The settlers of Port Royal, and later Kingston, had unfortunately chosen one of the most desperately humid bowls in the Caribbean.

Kingston Harbor Bay, an enormous bay five miles long and as many wide, was protected by a five mile stretch of sand commonly known as the Palisadoes. The Caribbean fed into Kingston Harbor through Port Royal Harbor, a wide inlet between the town of Port Royal, which was perched on the western extremity of the Palisados, and St. Jago de la Vega, the official Capitol of Jamaica.

In 1692 an earthquake struck the island of Jamaica which sent the northern half of Port Royal beneath the waves. Years later, in 1707 a great fire finished off the rest and now only Fort Charles and a small collection of houses was all that remained of what once had been home to Captain Morgan and the most nefarious piratical force in the Caribbean. Most of the citizens had relocated to Kingston following the earthquake, a natural inclination since the harbor was still one of the finest to be found in the Caribbean. Yet despite the safety of its harbor, which was impeccable thanks to the Palisodoes, and the depth of its draft, which was second to none, the towns of Kingston/Port Royal were regrettably a day’s sail from the Atlantic breezes that buffeted the windward side of the island. The constant heat combined with the fever swamps to the north and the east of Kingston always put Henry at a very ill humor.

Henry read from his copy of Don Quixote while he ate his supper of turtle and potatoes. A bank of storm clouds, painted brilliant shades of orange and pink by the setting sun, began gathering on the southern horizon. Henry read until the sunlight failed him and the wisdom of Cervantes became little more than blots of ink upon the page. He brought the book inside and returned to the patio to wait for the rain.

A half hour later Alice stepped outside.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

Henry motioned to the other chair. “I like it out here. Being so close to the water reminds me of my ship.”

“I just came to get your plate.”

“Have a seat. Let the rain wash it clean.” Henry held up his hand and felt scattered raindrops falling from the sky.

“I normally don’t. Most guests insist upon exclusive use of the patio.”

“Well, that’s not me,” Henry said while offering her the seat again.

Alice graciously accepted and sidled down into the chair beside him. “I’ve had a lot more time to sit out here the last couple of weeks. We’re a bit busier around suppertime as everyone rushes to get drunk before they retire for the evening.”

Henry leaned forward and inspected the street below. “It is eerily quiet down there.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do if the curfew doesn’t end soon. Having full rooms is nice but I make most of my money selling rum.”

“I imagine most of the tavern keepers are getting impatient.”

“Hamilton’s lucky he’s appointed by the Queen. He’d never win an election with the shit he’s shoveling. Enough about my troubles. How’s your ship? I didn’t have a chance to ask about it earlier.”

“My first mate will see to everything. I’ve been wondering why would an Irishwoman name her ordinary the Bristol Man?” Henry asked, changing the subject.

“It’s short for the Bristol Man-of-war my husband served aboard before he disappeared three years ago.”

“Three years ago,” Henry repeated.

“I still don’t know what happened to him. There was a rumor that he went down with another ship captured by the Bristol which subsequently went down during a storm coming up the coast of Brazil. Another man told me he’d been captured by the Spanish while trying to take Cartagena.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. He was a worse man than your doctor friend.”

“John isn’t that bad,” Henry said.

“Unless you’re a woman,” Alice added.

Henry considered her words. “He does tend to get a bit familiar from time to time.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“How would you put it?”

“He’s a jackass.”

“Perhaps, but he’s a lot easier to work for than my uncle.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“How would you know?”

“I’ve heard of your uncle,” she said. “From what I understand he’s a very generous man.”

“Generous,” Henry scoffed. “If you knew my uncle you’d never use that word to describe him. I sailed aboard his ship for nearly twenty years and he was only ever generous with his disappointment.”

“Family can be harsh sometimes,” Alice offered.

“My own father was never that harsh, and he’s spent most of his life wondering if he could afford our next meal. My father wanted a better life for me and secured an apprenticeship aboard my uncle’s flagship.”

“What does your father do?”

“He’s a rope-maker. My parents own about forty acres of hardscrabble in the mountain passes of St. Christopher’s near Brimstone Hill.”

“Do you wish you’d stayed there?”

This gave Henry pause. “I suppose not. But I wouldn’t choose my uncle again if that’s what you’re asking. His expectations are too high, the margin for disappointment too great. It took me twenty years to realize that and I’ll never go back. Not as long as I have the Diamond.”

Henry had met Lawrence Prince and Doctor John Stewart in Barbados about six months before. They had come from Africa aboard the Diamond and Prince’s flagship, the Anne. About a quarter of the crew had succumbed to the pox on the transatlantic voyage and practically limped into Carlisle Bay in Barbados. Henry had been living with his sister and her husband who owned a sugar plantation on the windward side of the island when the call went out for a pilot to guide the Diamond the rest of the way to Jamaica.

“What happened to the previous captain?”

“Our mutual friend, Doctor Stewart, was captain of the Diamond before my tenure. He was a majority owner in the ship and fancied himself a sailor until he realized that seafaring upset his humors. He unceremoniously relinquished command soon after we arrived in Kingston, I was made captain in his stead.”

The wind picked up and the scattered raindrops became a steady drizzle. Henry held up his hand to catch some of the raindrops and dabbed them on his forehead. “I don’t know how you live here. The heat is just brutal.”

“We have a shower downstairs.”

“Why didn’t you mention that sooner?”

“I suppose it’s a moot point at the moment,” she said. “But if you have a mind to use it tomorrow I’ll have Jezebel carry some water up from the stream.”

#Anchors to Windward

0 notes

keithbrough · 11 years ago

Text

The Annotated Calendar of State Papers the Colonial Series

Below you will find the summary for my recent book project. I have a 423 page manuscript that could be made readily available. I'm not sure where would be the best place to showcase it. Any suggestions are welcome.

The

UNMASKING

VIRGINIA

The Annotated Calendar of State Papers, Colonial Series, 1574 – 1660

Edited by

Keith Alan Brough

CHAPTER 1: 1574? - 1585

INTRODUCTION

Ralph Lane

Secretary Walsingham

In May 1861 The Christian Examiner published an article about the recently published first volume of the Calendar of State Papers the Colonial Series by Edward Everett Hale. Hale’s “Materials for American History,” begins as follows and is included almost in its entirety:

For several years past we have received continual contributions to history, of the first importance, from the archives of England, under the careful administration to which her State Papers are now subjected. And, of all the public works issued by the Record Office, none have been more curious or of more essential value than the “Calendars” of the different manuscripts preserved there. The manuscripts are now arranged with great care, in appropriate departments, such as English Domestic, Scotch, Irish, Foreign, and Colonial. In each department, they are arranged absolutely in chronological order, so far as their original date can be ascertained. Thus arranged, they are divided into books or portfolios of convenient size. So subdivided, they are ready for the work of the officer appointed to prepare the “Calendar,” and of any one who is permitted to consult them.

It has been the peculiar good fortune of England to find the right men for the right places in this work; and the right women, — for at least one of these valuable Calendars is the work of a lady. As they have been published, from year to year, now for some years past, they have given the means to careful scholars, in any part of the world, to discover how far the British archives contained any documents bearing on their especial studies. The Calendars give a brief abridgment of the papers referred to, with occasional references to other sources of information in the same great collection, and have been accompanied with indexes most precise and full.

In the arrangement of the “records” made preparatory to so great a work, the Master of the Rolls directed that all papers belonging to the respective colonies of Great Britain, from the beginning of her colonial system, should be brought together and “calendared” in one chronological series. They had formerly been divided into what were known as the "America and West Indies" department, and the “Board of Trade” department, and the papers relating to each Colony were kept together. All papers, however, from both these departments, up to the year 1688, are now brought together into the “Colonial Series,” an arrangement much more convenient for the student, as in so many instances the same transaction relates to several distinct “Colonies,” and as the distinction between “Board of Trade” correspondence and the “Secretary of State” correspondence was almost arbitrary, and always inconvenient. These rearrangements have been made under the supervision of Mr. W. N. Sainsbury, an accomplished officer, for many years connected with the colonial department of the Record Office, and for some time past at its head.

This rearrangement having been completed, Mr. Sainsbury proceeded at once to prepare and print the Calendar of the Colonial Papers. Conscious, however, that it would be largely consulted in the United States, or in English colonies far distant from the Record Office, he did not confine himself to the brief notes of the manuscripts described, which would have met the immediate purpose of one of the “Domestic” Calendars. He went into a careful analysis of each paper,—even copying considerable parts of the most important. The first volume of this work, comprehending the period from 1574 to 1660, has just now been published, and is before us.

…The manuscripts in the British Museum contain documents of our early history scarcely less important, if at all so. Even the State of Massachusetts, which was so little connected with the home government for the first fifty years, has not in her own archives the material for her own history. Every American explorer of these mines also comes back with new discoveries… And no student of the manuscripts themselves has left them without the conviction that in these stores, so carefully preserved, is still much concealed. So far as the “Colonial Papers” go, this conviction is now substantiated by the publication of Mr. Sainsbury’s admirable catalogue, and the students of history all over this continent have now the means of judging what there is, and what there is not, in the Record Office, which will solve their problems.

We dare not, of course, enter into a history of a hundred years of English colonization, even with the tempting guidance of these abstracts of the originals. But we can give a sufficient number of illustrations of Mr. Sainsbury’s references to show the value of his book, and to give an idea of the key which it affords to the treasures hitherto almost inaccessible. We have said that it begins with a document of 1574. As our readers know, the history of English colonization has generally been considered to begin somewhat later. But here are two documents, the beginning of the whole series, of which the first is assigned by Mr. Sainsbury to a date so early, on quite sufficient grounds. The attention of the American Antiquarian Society was called to the first of these papers a year since. But we believe none of our historians has thrown any more light on it than Mr. Sainsbury’s note does.

The next papers calendared are the first despatches from this country from Ralph Lane, the governor of Raleigh’s unsuccessful colony. These papers were edited by Mr. Hale for the last volume of the American Antiquarian Transactions, and were published last year. We have next the first reports from Jamestown, which were also published in that volume, together with Mr. Deane’s copy of Wingfield’s Journal. And thus the new “Calendar” leaves the myths, and launches us fairly on our recognized history.

From this period the largest portion of the entries relate to the histories of Virginia and of Bermuda. There is more about Virginia than our Cavalier friends there will care to see. When the American Antiquarian Society, and the Massachusetts Historical Society, and every historian of eminence in the country, last year memorialized Congress, asking that enough copies of this valuable Calendar might be obtained to supply all our public libraries at the national cost, the petition was rejected, rather ignominiously as we thought. We never heard any reason assigned for the rejection but the fact that it was introduced by a Massachusetts Senator. There is enough in the volume, now we have it, to show that, if Virginia gentlemen did think that the less that came to light of their early history the better, they were not wrong.

…References to the history of Massachusetts are, however, not nearly so numerous as those to that of Virginia. The cause is obvious. The bold removal of the Massachusetts Charter left our fathers to manage here details of government which for the poor Virginians had to be managed in London. When one reads the petty details in their affairs which were hammered over by incompetent distant tribunals, as recorded in these documents, he feels more than ever the necessity of the movement by which the Massachusetts Charter was so boldly brought over when our history as a State began.

We might make many more extracts from this curious volume. We have to thank the Record Commission and Mr. Sainsbury for the care with which he has wrought out so fully its details. Our readers see that it is much more than a tantalizing index, it is a Catalogue Raisonnée, and raisonnée singularly well. We can but regret that Congress hesitated before ordering copies enough to supply at once all our libraries with a book which will give such an impulse to our history. What is left is that every person, curious in the fountains of that history, must provide himself with a resource so full and valuable.

The Calendar of State Papers Colonial Series has remained almost entirely hidden from public awareness since it was first published back in 1860, thanks in small part to Congress’ failure to obtain enough copies “to supply all our public libraries at the national cost.” Hale’s hope that the Calendar be made readily available to the public has been all but fully realized, and vastly improved upon, thanks to the Internet Archive, Google Books, and British History Online. While the issue of ready access to the Calendar has been solved, the public still needs to be made aware of the CPSCS and educated on how to navigate this “great mine of historical treasure.”

The Annotated Calendar of State Papers the Colonial Series (see attached) is made up entirely of abstracts from the first volume of the CSPCS, ordered first by colony then chronology. After removing all ancillary material, a fairly concise narrative of England’s State Department and the attention paid to its colonial interests comes into focus. Virginia “our earliest and in all respects a most interesting settlement” and the production of tobacco naturally forms the backbone of this history before turning to George Somers and the shipwreck of the Sea Venture off Bermuda. Of Providence Island “we have a complete and unbroken record of the proceedings of the Company to whom the patent was granted, from its establishment in 1630 to 1641, when the entries are abruptly discontinued (the Spanish conquest of Providence Island took place 17 May 1641.) These documents, “written in two large folio volumes” by “a Company (that) governed those islands absolutely,” takes up roughly one-fifth of the CSPCS and is a comprehensive example of how a colony atrophies in the absence of property rights and local governance. West Indian sugar forms the final arc of the ACSPC, beginning with earliest settlement on St. Christopher’s, followed by the burgeoning sugar plantations on Barbados, and concluding with Jamaica and Cromwell’s Western Design.

The colonies of New England, Newfoundland, Guiana, Maryland, South Carolina, and numerous other colonies of import have been omitted from this collection simply because they failed to coalesce into natural arguments like those found in the case of Virginia or Barbados, either because they were too young when this volume of the Calendar ended, or the colonists held their own charter, as was the case with New England.

Portions of Sainsbury’s prefaces have been included as chapter introductions wherever possible and shall be expounded upon as needed to provide the lay reader with a suitable historical footing on which to approach Sainsbury’s Catalogue Raisonnée.

0 notes