cleanly cut with a knife.
Finney sucked his teeth and said, “T’was a mite awkward, Captain. We’d no idea that a real lady’d be coming to a place like this. We had no warning, y’see.” He sounded genuinely apologetic. “We cut him down sharply, but she saw the poor devil all the same.”
Bolitho quickened his pace, filled with hatred for Raymond.
“What had he done?”
“Mr Hardacre said he’d been after the daughter of a chief on t’other side of the island. He forbids any of the men from going there, an’ says the chief is the most important friend we have among the tribes.”
They reached the deep shade of the main door.
“And he had the man hanged for it?”
Finney sounded subdued. “You don’t understand, Captain. Mr Hardacre is like a king out here.”
Bolitho nodded. “I see.” It was getting worse instead of better. “Then I am looking forward to meeting him!”
John Hardacre made an impressive sight. Well above average height, he was built like a human fortress, broad and deep-chested, with a resonant voice to match. But if that was not enough to awe his visitors, his general appearance was of a self-made king, as his lieutenant had described. He had bushy hair and a great, spade-shaped beard, both once dark, but now the colour of wood ash. Somewhere in between, his eyes stared out beneath jet- black brows like two bright lamps.
He wore a white, loosely folded robe which left his powerful legs bare, and his large feet were covered only in sandals, and held well apart as if to sustain the weight and strength of the man above.
He nodded to Bolitho and studied him thoughtfully. “Frigate captain, eh? Well, well. So His Majesty’s Government appears to think we may need protection at last.” He chuckled, the sound rising like an underground stream. “You will take refreshment with us here.” It was not a suggestion but an order.
Raymond, who was standing beside an open window and mopping his face with a sodden handkerchief, complained, “It’s hotter than I thought possible.”
Hardacre grinned, displaying, disappointingly, Bolitho thought, a set of broken and stained teeth.
“You get too soft in England! Out here it is a man’s country.
Ripe for the taking, like a good woman, eh?” He laughed at Raymond’s prim stare. “You’ll see!”
Two native girls padded softly across the rush mats and arranged glasses and jugs on a stout table.
Bolitho watched Hardacre ladling colourless liquid into the glasses. It was probably like fire-water, he thought, although Hardacre seemed willing enough to drink it, too.
“Well, gentlemen, welcome to the Levu Islands.”
Bolitho gripped the arm of his chair and tried to stop his eyes from watering.
Hardacre’s ladle swept over him and refilled his glass. “Damn good, eh?”
Bolitho waited for his throat to respond. “Strong.”
Raymond put down his glass. “My instructions are to take overall control of these and other surrounding islands not yet under common claim by another nation.” He was speaking quickly as if afraid Hardacre might fly into a rage. “I have full instructions for you also. From London.”
“From London.” Hardacre watched him, swilling the drink around his glass. “And what does London think you can do which I cannot, pray?”
Raymond hesitated. “Various aspects are unsatisfactory, and, besides, you do not have the forces at your disposal to support the King’s peace.”
“Rubbish!” Hardacre turned towards a window. “I could raise an army if I so wanted. Every man a warrior. Each one ready to obey me.”
Bolitho watched him, seeing his anxiety which he was trying to hide, and his obvious pride in what he had achieved on his own.
Hardacre swung towards him violently. “Bolitho! Of course, I recall it now. Your brother. During the war.” He sighed. “That war made many a difference to a lot of folk, and that’s true enough.”
Bolitho said nothing, watching Hardacre’s eyes remembering, knowing that Raymond was listening, hoping for his discomfort.
The great bearded figure turned back to the window. “Yes, I was a farmer then. Lost everything because I was a King’s man when we had to take sides. So I pulled up my roots and set to work out here.” He added bitterly, “Now it seems it is the King who wishes to rob me this time!”
“Nonsense.” Raymond swallowed his drink and gasped. “It will not be like that. You may still be needed. I must first-”
Hardacre interrupted, “You’ll first listen to me.” He flung aside the plaited screen and pointed at the dark green trees. “I need trained men to help me, or those I can instruct before I get too old. I don’t want officials like those in Sydney or London, nor, with all respect, Captain, do I need uniforms and naval discipline.”
Bolitho said calmly, “Your discipline appears somewhat harsher than ours.”
“Oh that.” Hardacre shrugged. “Justice has to be matched against the surroundings. It is the way of things here.”
“Your way.” Bolitho kept his voice level.
Hardacre looked at him steadily and then smiled. “Yes. If you’ll have it so.”
He continued gruffly, “You’ve seen what can happen in the islands, Captain. The people are simple, untouched, laid open for every pox and disease which a ship can drop amongst them. If they are to prosper and survive they must protect themselves and not rely on others.”
“Impossible.” Raymond was getting angry. “The Eurotas was captured, and retaken by the Tempest. Every day we’re hearing worse news about marauding pirates and murderers, and even the French are disturbed enough to have sent a frigate.”
“The Narval.” Hardacre shrugged. “Oh yes, Mister Raymond, I have my ways of learning news, too.”
“Indeed. Well, you’ll not seek out and destroy these pirates with a trading schooner and a handful of painted savages!” Raymond glared at him hotly. “I intend to make it my first task. After that, we will talk about trade. My men will begin landing convicts tomorrow, and clear more land near the settlement where huts can be built for them.” He sounded triumphant. “So perhaps you can begin with that, Mr Hardacre?”
Hardacre eyed him flatly. “Very well. But your wife, I trust you’ll not detain her here longer than necessary?”
“Your concern moves me.”
Hardacre said quietly, “Please do not use sarcasm on me. And let me tell you that white women, especially those of gentle birth, are no match for our islands.”
“Don’t your people have wives?”
Hardacre looked away. “Local girls.”
Raymond looked at the two who were standing near the table. Very young, very demure. Bolitho could almost see his mind working.
Hardacre said bluntly, “Two girls of good family. Their father is a chief. A fine man.”
“Hmm.” Raymond pulled out his watch, the sweat running off his face like rain. “Have someone show me my quarters. I must have time to think.”
Later, when Bolitho was alone with him, Hardacre said, “Your Mr Raymond is a fool. He knows nothing of this place. Nor will he want to learn.”
Bolitho said, “What of the French frigate? Where did you see her?”
“So you had it in your mind to ask, eh? Like a teazel in the brain.” Hardacre smiled. “Traders bring me information. Barter and mutual trust is our best protection. Oh yes, I have heard about Narval and her mad captain, just as I know about the pirate, Mathias Tuke. He is often lying off these islands with his cursed schooners. So far he has thought twice about trying to plunder the settlement, damn his eyes!” He looked at Bolitho. “But your frigate will be outwitted, my friend. You need small craft and strong legs, and guides who can take you to this man’s hiding places, and he has several.”
“Could you discover them for me?”
“I think not, Captain. We have survived this far without open war.”
Bolitho thought of the Eurotas, the superb planning which had gone into her capture. That and the ruthless cruelty to back it would be more than a match for Lieutenant Finney’s militia.
