No Defense, Complete - Gilbert Parker
The West Indies was as much a cock-pit of the fighting powers as ever
Belgium was; and in those islands there was wealth and the power which
wealth buys; the clash of white and black and coloured peoples; the naval
contests on the sea; the horrible massacres and enslavement of free white
peoples, as in St. Domingo and Grenada; the dominating attacks of people
fighting for control--peoples of old empires like France and Spain, and
new empires like that of Britain. These were a centre of colonial life as
important as had been the life in Virginia and New York and the New
England States and Canada--indeed, more important than Canada in one
sense, for the West Indies brought wealth to the British Isles, and had a
big export trade. He lost no time in bringing matters to an issue.
He got to his feet and came near to her. His eyes were inflamed with
passion, his manner was impressive. He had a distinguished face, become
more distinguished since his assumption of governorship, and authority
had increased his personality.
"A man of mark!" he said. "You mean a marked man. Let me tell you I have
an order from the British Government to confine him to his estate; not to
permit him to leave it; and, if he does, to arrest him. That is my
commanded duty. You approve, do you not? Or are you like most women, soft
at heart to bold criminals?"
Sheila did not reply at once. The news was no news to her, for Darius
Boland had told her; but she thought it well to let the governor think he
had made a new, sensational statement.
"No," she said at last, looking him calmly in the eyes. "I have no soft
feelings for criminals as criminals, none at all. And there is every
reason why I should be adamant to this man, Dyck Calhoun. But, Lord
Mallow, I would go carefully about this, if I were you. He is a man who
takes no heed of people, high or low, and has no fear of consequences.
Have you thought of the consequences to yourself? Suppose he resists,
what will you do?"
"If he resists I will attack him with due force."
"You mean you will send your military and police to attack him?" The gibe
was covered, but it found the governor's breast. He knew what she was
meaning.
"You would not expect me to do police work, would you? Is that what your
president does? What your great George Washington does? Does he make the
state arrests with his own hand?"
"I have no doubt he would if the circumstances were such as to warrant
it. He has no small vices, and no false feelings. He has proved himself,"
she answered boldly.
"Well, in that case," responded Lord Mallow irritably, "the event will be
as is due. The man is condemned by my masters, and he must submit to my
authority. He is twice a criminal, and--"
"And yet a hero and a good swordsman, and as honest as men are made in a
dishonest world. Your Admiralty and your government first pardoned the
man, and then gave him freedom on the island which you tried to prevent;
and now they turn round and confine him to his acres. Is that pardon in a
real sense? Did you write to the government and say he ought not to be
free to roam, lest he should discover more treasure-chests and buy
another estate? Was it you?"
The governor shook his head. "No, not I. I told the government in careful
and unrhetorical language the incident of his coming here, and what I
did, and my reasons for doing it--that was all."
"And you being governor they took your advice. See, my lord, if this
thing is done to him it will be to your own discomfiture. It will hurt
you in the public service."
"Why, to hear you speak, mistress, it would almost seem you had a
fondness for the man who killed your father, who went to jail for it,
and--"
"And became a mutineer," intervened the girl flushing. "Why not say all?
Why not catalogue his offences? Fondness for the man who killed my
father, you say! Yes, I had a deep and sincere fondness for him ever
since I met him at Playmore over seven years ago. Yes, a fondness which
only his crime makes impossible. But in all that really matters I am
still his friend. He did not know he was killing my father, who had no
claims upon me, none at all, except that through him I have life and
being; but it is enough to separate us for ever in the eyes of the world,
and in my eyes. Not morally, of course, but legally and actually. He and
I are as far apart as winter and summer; we are parted for ever and ever
and ever."
Now at last she was inflamed. Every nerve in her was alive. All she had
ever felt for Dyck Calhoun came rushing to the surface, demanding
recognition, reasserting itself. As she used the words, "ever and ever
and ever," it was like a Cordelia bidding farewell to Lear, her father,
for ever, for there was that in her voice which said: "It is final
separation, it is the judgment of Jehovah, and I must submit. It is the
last word."
Lord Mallow saw his opportunity, and did not hesitate. "No, you are
wrong, wholly wrong," he said. "I did not bias what I said in my
report--a report I was bound to make--by any covert prejudice against Mr.
Calhoun. I guarded myself especially"--there he lied, but he was an
incomparable liar--"lest it should be used against him. It would appear,
however, that the new admiral's report with mine were laid together, and
the government came to its conclusion accordingly. So I am bound to do my
duty."
"If you--oh, if you did your duty, you would not obey the command of the
government. Are there not times when to obey is a crime, and is not this
one of them? Lord Mallow, you would be doing as great a crime as Mr. Dyck
Calhoun ever committed, or could commit, if you put this order into
actual fact. You are governor here, and your judgment would be
accepted--remember it is an eight weeks' journey to London at the least,
and what might not happen in that time! Are you not given discretion?"
The governor nodded. "Yes, I am given discretion, but this is an order."
"An order!" she commented. "Then if it should not be fulfilled, break it
and take the consequences. The principle should be--Do what is right, and
have no fear."
"I will think it over," answered the governor. "What you say has immense
weight with me--more even than I have words to say. Yes, I will think it
over--I promise you. You are a genius--you prevail."
Her face softened, a new something came into her manner. "You do truly
mean it?" she asked with lips that almost trembled.
It seemed to her that to do this thing for Dyck Calhoun was the least
that was possible, and it was perhaps the last thing she might ever be
able to do. She realized how terrible it would be for him to be shorn of
the liberty he had always had; how dangerous it might be in many ways;
and how the people of the island might become excited by it--and
troublesome.
"Yes, I mean it," answered Lord Mallow. "I mean it exactly as I say it."
She smiled. "Well, that should recommend you for promotion," she said
happily. "I am sure you will decide not to enforce the order, if you
think about it. You shall be promoted, your honour, to a better place,"
she repeated, half-satirically.
"Shall I then?" he asked with a warm smile and drawing close to her.
"Shall I? Then it can only be by your recommendation. Ah, my dear, my
beautiful dear one," he hastened to add, "my life is possible
henceforward only through you. You have taught me by your life and
person, by your beauty and truth, by your nobility of mind and character
how life should be lived. I have not always deserved your good opinion
nor that of others. I have fought duels and killed men; I have aspired to
place; I have connived at appointment; I have been vain, overbearing and
insistent on my rights or privileges; I have played the dictator here in
Jamaica; I have not been satisfied save to get my own way; but you have
altered all that. Your coming here has given me a new outlook. Sheila,
you have changed me, and you can change me infinitely more. I who have
been a master wish to become your slave. I want you--beloved, I want you
for my wife."
He reached out as though to take her hand, but she drew back from him.
His thrilling words had touched her, as she had seldom been touched, as
she had never been touched by any one save the man that must never be
hers; she was submerged for the moment in the flood of his eloquence, and
his yielding to her on the point of Dyck's imprisonment gave fresh accent
to his words. Yet she could not, she dared not yet say yes to his demand.
"My lord," she said, "oh, you have stirred me! Yet I dare not reply to
you as you wish. Life is hard as it is, and you have suddenly made it
harder. What is more, I do not, I cannot, believe you. You have loved
many. Your life has been a covert menace. Oh, I know what they said of
you in Ireland. I know not of your life here. I suppose it is circumspect
now; but in Ireland it was declared you were notorious with women."
"It is a lie," he answered. "I was not notorious. I was no better and no
worse than many another man. I played, I danced attendance, I said soft
nothings, but I was tied to no woman in all Ireland. I was frolicsome and
adventurous, but no more. There is no woman who can say I used her ill or
took from her what I did not--"
"Atone for, Lord Mallow?"
"Atone--no. What I did not give return for, was what I was going to say."
The situation was intense. She was in a place from which there was no
escape except by flight or refusal. She did not really wish to refuse.
Somehow, there had come upon her the desire to put all thought of Dyck
Calhoun out of her mind by making it impossible for her to think of him;
and marriage was the one sure and complete way--marriage with this man,
was it possible? He held high position, he was her fellow countryman and
an Irish peer, and she was the daughter of an evil man, who was, above
all else, a traitor to his country, though Lord Mallow did not know that.
The only one she knew possessed of the facts was the man she desired to
save herself from in final way--Dyck Calhoun. Her heart was for the
moment soft to Lord Mallow, in spite of his hatred of Dyck Calhoun. The
governor was a man of charm in conversation. He was born with rare
faculties. Besides, he had knowledge of humanity and of women. He knew
how women could be touched. He had appealed to Sheila more by ability
than by aught else. His concessions to her were discretion in a way. They
opened the route to her affections, as his place and title could not do.
"No, no, no, believe me, Sheila, I was a man who had too many
temptations--that was all. But I did not spoil my life by them, and I am
here a trusted servant of the government. I am a better governor than
your first words to me would make you seem to think."
Her eyes were shining, her face was troubled, her tongue was silent. She
knew not what to say. She felt she could not say yes--yet she wanted to
escape from him. Her good fortune did not desert her. Suddenly the door
of the room opened and her mother entered.
"There is a member of your suite here, your honour, asking for you. It is
of most grave importance. It is urgent. What shall I say?"
"Say nothing. I am coming," said the governor. "I am coming now."
CHAPTER XX
OUT OF THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINES
That night the Maroons broke loose upon Jamaica, and began murder and
depredation against which the governor's activities were no check.
Estates were invaded, and men, women and children killed, or carried into
the mountains and held as hostages. In the middle and western part of the
island the ruinous movements went on without being stayed; planters and
people generally railed at the governor, and said that through his
neglect these dark things were happening. It was said he had failed to
punish offences by the Maroons, and this had given them confidence,
filling them with defiance. They had one advantage not possessed by the
government troops and militia--they were masters of every square rod of
land in the middle and west of the island. Their plan was to raid, to
ambush, to kill and to excite the slaves to rebel.
The first assault and repulse took place not far from Enniskillen, Dyck
Calhoun's plantation, and Michael Clones captured a Maroon who was
slightly wounded.
Michael challenged him thus: "Come now, my blitherin' friend, tell us
your trouble--why are you risin'? You don't do this without cause--what's
the cause?"
The black man, naked except for a cloth about his loins, and with a small
bag at his hip, slung from a cord over his shoulder, showed his teeth in
a stark grimace.
"You're a newcomer here, massa, or you'd know we're treated bad," he
answered. "We're robbed and trod on and there's no word kept with us. We
asked the governor for more land and he moved us off. We warned him
against having one of our head young men flogged by a slave in the
presence of slaves--for we are free men, and he laughs. So, knowing a few
strong men can bring many weak men to their knees, we rose. I say
this--there's plenty weak men in Jamaica, men who don't know right when
they see it. So we rose, massa, and we'll make Jamaica sick before we've
done. They can't beat us, for we can ambush here, and shoot those that
come after us. We hide, one behind this rock and one behind that, two or
three together, and we're safe. But the white soldiers come all together
and beat drums and blow horns, and we know where they are, and so we
catch 'em and kill 'em. You'll see, we'll capture captains and generals,
and we'll cut their heads off and bury them in their own guts."
He made an ugly grimace, and a loathsome gesture, and Michael Clones felt
the man ought to die. He half drew his sword, but, thinking better of it,
he took the Maroon to the Castle and locked him up in a slave's hut,
having first bound him and put him in the charge of one he could trust.
But as he put the man away, he said:
"You talk of your people hiding, and men not being able to find you; but
did you never hear of bloodhounds, that can hunt you down, and chew you
up? Did you never hear of them?"
The man's face wrinkled like a rag, for there is one thing the native
fears more than all else, and that is the tooth of the hound. But he
gathered courage, and said: "The governor has no hounds. There ain't none
in Jamaica. We know dat--all of us know dat--all of us know dat, massa."
Michael Clones laughed, and it was not pleasant to hear. "It may be the
governor has no bloodhounds, and would not permit their being brought
into the island, but my master is bringing them in himself--a lot with
their drivers from Cuba, and you Maroons will have all you can do to
hide. Sure, d'ye think every wan in the island is as foolish as the
governor? If you do, y'are mistaken, and that's all there is to say."
"The hounds not here--in de island, massa!" declared the Maroon
questioningly.
"They'll be here within the next few hours, and then where will you and
your pals be? You'll be caught between sharp teeth--nice, red, sharp,
bloody teeth; and you'll make good steak-better than your best olio."
The native gave a moan--it was the lament of one whose crime was come
tete-a-tete with its own punishment.
"That's the game to play," said Michael to himself as he fastened the
door tight. "The hounds will settle this fool-rebellion quicker than
aught else. Mr. Calhoun's a wise man, and he ought to be governor here.
Criminal? As much as the angel Gabriel! He must put down this
rebellion--no wan else can. They're stronger, the Maroons, than ever
they've been. They've planned this with skill, and they'll need a lot of
handlin'. We're safe enough here, but down there at Salem--well, they may
be caught in the bloody net. Bedad, that's sure."
A few moments afterwards he met Dyck Calhoun. "Michael," said Dyck,
"things are safe enough here, but we've prepared! The overseers,
bookkeepers and drivers are loyal enough. But there are others not so
safe. I'm going to Salem-riding as hard as I can, with six of our best
men. They're not so daft at Salem as we are, Michael. They won't know how
to act or what to do. Darius Boland is a good man, but he's only had
Virginian experience, and this is different. A hundred Maroons are as
good as a thousand white soldiers in the way the Maroons fight. There are
a thousand of them, and they can lay waste this island, if they get
going. So I shall stop them. The hounds are outside the harbour now,
Michael. The ship Vincent, bringing them, was sighted by a sloop two days
ago, making slowly for Kingston. She should be here before we've time to
turn round. Michael, the game is in our hands, if we play it well. Do you
go down to Kingston and--"
He detailed what Michael was to do on landing the hounds, and laid out
plans for the immediate future. "They're in danger at Salem, Michael, so
we must help them. The hounds will settle this whole wretched business."
Michael told him of his prisoner, and what effect the threat about the
hounds had had. A look of purpose came into Dyck's face.
"A hound is as fair as a gun, and hounds shall be used here in Jamaica.
The governor can't refuse their landing now. The people would kill him if
he did. It was I proposed it all."
"Look, sir--who's that?" asked Michael, as they saw a figure riding under
the palms not far away.
It was very early morning, and the light was dim yet, but there was
sufficient to make even far sight easy. Dyck shaded his forehead with his
hand.
"It's not one of our people, Michael. It's a stranger."
As the rider came on he was stopped by two of the drivers of the estate.
Dyck and Michael saw him hold up a letter, and a moment later he was on
his way to Dyck, galloping hard. Arrived, he dropped to the ground, and
saluted Dyck.
"A letter from Salem, sir," he said, and handed it over to Dyck.
Dyck nodded, broke the seal of the letter and read it quickly. Then he
nodded again and bade the man eat a hearty breakfast and return with him
on one of the Enniskillen horses, as his own would be exhausted. "We'll
help protect Salem, my man," said Dyck.
The man grinned. "That's good," he answered. "They knew naught of the
rising when I left. But the governor was there yesterday, and he'd
protect us."
"Nonsense, fellow, the governor would go straight to Spanish Town where
he belongs, when there is trouble."
When the man had gone, Dyck turned to his servant. "Michael," he said,
"the news in the letter came from Darius Boland. He says the governor
told him he had orders from England to confine me here at Enniskillen,
and he meant to do it. We'll see how he does it. If he sends his
marshals, we'll make Gadarene swine of them."
There was a smile at his lips, and it was contemptuous, and the lines of
his forehead told of resolve. "Michael," he added, "we'll hunt Lord
Mallow with the hounds of our good fortune, for this war is our war. They
can't win it without me, and they shan't. Without the hounds it may be a
two years' war--with the hounds it can't go beyond a week or so."
"If the hounds get here, sir! But if they don't?"
Dyck laid his hand upon the sword at his side. "If they don't get here,
Michael, still the war will be ours, for we understand fighting, and the
governor does not. Confine me here, will he? If he does, he'll be a
better man than I have ever known him, Michael. In a few hours I shall be
at Salem, to do what he could not, and would not, do if he could. His
love is as deep as water on a roof, no deeper. He'll think first of
himself, and afterwards of the owner of Salem or any other. Let me show
you what I mean to do once we've Salem free from danger. Come and have a
look at my chart."
Some hours later Dyck Calhoun, with his six horsemen, was within a mile
or so of Salem. They had ridden hard in the heat and were tired, but
there was high spirit in the men, for they were behind a trusted
leader--a man who ate little, but who did not disdain a bottle of Madeira
or a glass of brandy, and who made good every step of the way he
went--watchful, alert, careful, determined. They cared little what his
past had been. Jamaica was not a heaven for the good, but it was a haven
for many who had been ill-used elsewhere; where each man, as though he
were really in a new world, was judged by his daily actions and not by
any history of a hidden or an open past. As they came across country,
Dyck always ahead, they saw how he responded to every sign of life in the
bush, how he moved always with discretion where ambush seemed possible.
They knew how on his own estate he never made mistakes of judgment; that
he held the balance carefully, and that his violences, rare and
tremendous, were not outbursts of an unregulated nature. "You can't fool
Calhoun," was a common phrase in the language of Enniskillen, and there
were few in the surrounding country who would not have upheld its truth.
Now, to-day, he was almost moodily silent, reserved and watchful. None
knew the eddies of life which struggled for mastery in him, nor of his
horrible disappointments. None knew of his love for Sheila. Yet all knew
that he had killed--or was punished for killing--Erris Boyne. None of
them had seen Sheila, but all had heard of her, and the governor's
courtship of her, and all wondered why Dyck Calhoun should be doing what
clearly the governor should do.
Somehow, in spite of the criminal record with which Calhoun's life was
stained, they had a respect for him they did not have for Lord Mallow.
Dyck's life in Jamaica was clean; and his progress as a planter had been
free from black spots. He even kept no mistress, and none had ever known
him to have to do with women, black, brown, or white. He had never gone
a-Maying, as the saying was, and his only weakness or fault--if it was a
fault--was a fondness for the bottle of good wine which was ever open on
his table, and for tobacco in the smoking-leaf. To-day he smoked
incessantly and carefully. He threw no loose ends of burning tobacco from
cigar or pipe into the loose dry leaves and stiff-cut ground. Yet they
knew the small clouds floating away from his head did not check his
observation. That was proved beyond peradventure when they were within
sight of the homestead of Salem on an upland well-wooded. It was in
apparently happy circumstances, for they could see no commotion about the
homestead; they saw men with muskets, evidently keeping guard--yet too
openly keeping guard, and so some said to each other.
Presently Dyck reined his horse. Each man listened attentively, and eyed
the wood ahead of them, for it was clear Dyck suspected danger there. For
a moment there seemed doubt in Dyck's mind what to do, but presently he
had decided.
"Ride slow for Salem," he said. "It's Maroons there in the bush. They are
waiting for night. They won't attack us now. They're in ambush--of that
I'm sure. If they want to capture Salem, they'll not give alarm by firing
on us, so if we ride on they'll think we haven't sensed them. If they do
attack us, we'll know they are in good numbers, for they'll be facing us
as well as the garrison of Salem. But keep your muskets ready. Have a
drink," he added, and handed his horn of liquor. "If they see us drink,
and they will, they'll think we've only stopped to refresh, and we'll be
safe. In any case, if they attack, fire your muskets at them and ride
like the devil. Don't dismount and don't try to find them in the rocks.
They'll catch us that way, as they've caught others. It's a poor game
fighting hidden men. I want to get them into the open down below, and
that's where they'll be before we're many hours older."
With this he rode on slightly ahead, and presently put his horse at a
gentle canter which he did not increase as they neared the place where
the black men ambushed. Every man of the group behaved well. None showed
nervousness, even when one of the horses, conscious of hidden Maroons in
the wood, gave a snort and made a sharp movement out of the track, in an
attempt to get greater speed.
That was only for an instant, however. Yet every man's heart beat faster
as they came to the place where the ambush was. Indeed, Dyck saw a bush
move, and had a glimpse of a black, hideous face which quickly
disappeared. Dyck's imperturbable coolness kept them steady. They even
gossiped of idle things loud enough for the hidden Maroons to hear. No
face showed suspicion or alarm, as they passed, while all felt the
presence of many men in the underbrush. Only when they had passed the
place, did they realize the fulness of the danger through which they had
gone. Dyck talked to them presently without turning round, for that might
have roused suspicion, and while they were out of danger now, there was
the future and Dyck's plan which he now unfolded.
"They'll come down into the open before it's dark," he said quietly, "and
when they do that, we'll have 'em. They've no chance to ambush in the
cane-fields now. We'll get them in the open, and wipe them out. Don't
look round. Keep steady, and we'll ride a little more quickly soon."
A little later they cantered to the front door of the Salem homestead.