These were men who lived in the shadow of death, whether by gunshot, blade, or the gallows, a roistering lot of every nationality and race under the sun, mingling with no thought of anything but rum and women. Moving among them, I gradually got the feel of the crowd. The women were there, also of every nationality, but mulattoes and quadroons predominated.
Suddenly I glimpsed Henry. He was standing alone near a stall that sold basketry, looking very handsome in his neat black coat and his white shirt. A girl moved through the crowd toward him, saying something, but he waved her aside. She left with an angry glance and a flounce. He waited, and I did, with the crowd moving past me.
A slim black man moved through the crowd toward Henry, but when he came near to him, he did not stop or seem to notice but walked on past, turning up an alley near the basketry stall. After a moment Henry followed.
At that moment something plucked my sleeve. It was Charles. So concentrated had I been on Henry's movements that I had not seen him approach.
'Captain? I am Charles, from Augustus Jayne. He has need of you for a fitting.'
A fitting--now? I doubted it, yet I went along, following behind him to the door of his shop. It was a very strong door of oak set with iron straps and bolts. Charles tapped; the door opened, and we entered. A huge black man was guarding the door.
Jayne was waiting for me, tape measure in his hand. As Charles usually did the measuring, this also surprised me.
As he started measuring, he talked softly. 'Your name sounded a bell in my ears. I was sure I had heard it before this. 'Sackett?' I said, it is an unusual name, and then I recalled a letter I had long since from England but one of a series of letters I review from time to time because of the information they contain, much of which can be profitable.' He stepped back, glancing at me from the corners of his eyes. 'Information is a commodity, you know, often calling for better pay than goods.'
'If you have information,' I said, 'I will pay.'
'Oh, no! I was not suggesting ... far from it. Only that you would know that sometimes a tailor is not only a tailor. I have a friend in London who is interested in information and is often very helpful to me. It was in a letter from him that I found the name ... Barnabas Sackett.'
'My father.'
'Ah? I suspected as much. My friend is Peter Tallis.'
'My father spoke of him.'
'He would, of course. Peter Tallis is a man of many parts and of much knowledge. He has, I believe, friends such as I in most of the ports of the world. We write letters to him and advise him as to conditions.
'You see, although the name sounded in my memory, I did not place the reason. Then it came to me. A friend to Peter Tallis is a friend to me. Or I am a friend to him.'
'So?'
'I measure you in case of spies, and let me tell you, my friend, in Port Royal there are spies everywhere. You spoke of white slaves. I suspect you did not want one for yourself, knowing what I do of your father.'
'You are right. I seek a certain girl who might have been sold as a slave, a kidnapped girl taken from what is called New England.'
'There were several such, as well as some from New Amsterdam, from Carolina and Virginia.'
'This girl was from the Cape Ann area. It would have been a year ago. More, I think. She would have been sold by--'
'Ssh! No names, please!'
'Very pretty, and--'
'Of course. Aren't they all?'
'A girl, I have heard, of independent mind and not one to scream about her lost honor unless she could gain something by screaming. From hearsay, a very courageous, somewhat unmoral young lady who did not take to the life in New England nor the strict ways of the elders. She was stolen away, but I am not altogether sure she would have objected very much.'
'Ah, yes. You make it much easier, Master Sackett, much easier! For there are not many such. Most of them sink ... or die of fever or of something ... despair, probably.'
'Not this one.'
'You would save her?'
'I doubt that is the word. I would talk to her. I will do what she wishes in that respect, but I seek to put an end to this business.'
'A knight errant? No white charger?'
'None. An attempt was made on a girl I ... well, a girl whom I know.'
'Does Captain Tilly know why you are here?'
'He does. And Samuel Maverick, of Shawmut, and the Reverend Blaxton.'
'Maverick I know. He does business with us. A very shrewd, competent man. All right. Your credentials are good. I have heard of such a person. A very handsome, shrewd, and healthy young woman and not a slave.'
'Not a slave?'
Jayne smiled smugly. 'Not at all! In fact, she is mistress of one of our fairest plantations! A woman with a will ... and as they say, where there's a will, there's a way, and she found it.'
He completed his measurements, then suggested a glass of wine, and I joined him. Seated comfortably, his plump vest thrust forth importantly, he told the tale with some relish.
'Ah, yes! I like enterprise! It is what will keep our world alive when the old world has gone to seed! Enterprise! A good English trait! And our lady ... oh, yes! I do not hesitate to call her that, for if she did not deserve the name when she arrived, she certainly does now!
'What a woman! She was sold to one of our landed gentlemen, not an elderly man by any means but a lonely one. His wife had been a cold, unresponsive, greedy woman, and when she died, many of us breathed a sigh of relief for him. But he was not a man who liked living alone, and on that great estate back of the north shore, he was much alone. His house was a great old mansion, splendid place, for the man had taste.
'It was what led him to Adele.'
'Adele?' I knew not the name and felt a sudden disappointment. 'This cannot be she whom I--'
'Wait. There cannot be two such. As for the name, who cares about a name? Most of the population of Port Royal are using names not their own. One chooses a name if one wills, perhaps one more suited to the personality. After all, only a few inherit great names. The rest must make them for ourselves, and trust her. She will.'
He paused, lighting a long cigar. I had seen them but rarely. He refilled my glass. The wine was white, of delicate flavor, and I, who drink not often, found it to my taste.
'When such slaves are sold, they are usually sold on order from the customer. They have the sale made, and they seek out the merchandise, subject to approval of the buyer. In this case the buyer died--a duel, I believe--so he was left with the merchandise.'
' 'He'?'
'Only that. I say no more. The result was that he held a quiet little auction, a secluded place, only a few trustworthy and possible customers.
'The wench was bold. She appeared before them, and she looked over the lot and saw our man--her man-- and looked right into his eyes. 'You,' she said. 'I want it to be you.'
'There was some bidding, of course, for she was a likely lass, but several had heard what she said and had lost interest. Our man bought her.
'He bought his clothes from me, so I had the story from his own lips, and an amazing story it was! On that first night when they arrived, he was about to order her confined when she demanded to speak with him alone.
'Once alone, she faced him boldly. 'You have a slave,' she said, 'and you may have a willing slave or wife--'
'Wife?' he exclaimed.
' 'Wife,' she said, 'or slave, whichever you like, it matters not a whit to me, but treat me like a lady, and I shall respond like one. Treat me as a slave, and I will make your life a hell.'
'She gestured. 'This place needs care. It is rich and beautiful, but it needs someone who loves it ... and you. I
