Seaflower

became aware of the fierce glint of eyes diagonally opposite. 'Marston,' the man growled, and lifted his eyebrows in interrogation.

*Er, Kydd,' he said carefully, not knowing if handshakes were the thing at table, and deciding that it would be safe to do nothing.

'Got th' look o' the sea about ye,' said Marston, when it became obvious Kydd was not going to be more forthcoming.

'Aye, y'r in the right of it, sir.'

Marston smiled. 'Can always tell. Which ship?'

Renzi broke in smoothly, 'Thomas is with me, Gilbert, come to see where sugar comes from.'

'Damn fine place to see.' He started, then twisted round in his seat to the lady on his left. 'If you'll pardon th' French, m' dear.' She nodded shyly.

Laughton was at the head of the table, his wife at the opposite end, near Kydd. 'Er, Mr Kydd,' she called decorously, 'do y' not feel a trifle anxious out on the sea, what with all those nasty pirates an' French privateers?' She helped herself to more of the succulent river shrimps in salt and pepper.

Kydd's own mouth was full with the spicy jerk, but he replied manfully, 'Not wi' the navy t' look after—'

'Pah!' Marston's face lowered and his eyes slitted. 'I've lost three ships 'tween here 'n' San Domingo, an' it's disgraceful the navy still ain't come up on 'em! If I was their admiral, I tell you—'

At the other end of the table Laughton frowned. Outside there was some sort of disturbance. The talking died away. High words sounded and a flustered butler entered, bowed to Laughton and whispered urgently. Laughton put down his glass quietly. 'Gentlemen, it seems that the Trelawney maroons are abroad tonight.' His chair scraped as he got to his feet. 'A mill is afire.'

The room broke into a rush of talk.

'Stap me, but they're getting damnation uppity!'

'D'ye think — God preserve us! - it's a general rising?'

'Where's the militia, the blaggards?' Laughton took off his jacket and carefully laid it on the back of his chair. In his evening shirt he accepted his sword and belt from the butler as calmly as he had accepted his dinner clothes earlier. 'I won't be long, gentlemen, but in the meantime pray do not ignore the brandy and cigars.' Kydd sensed the assembling of men in the rising tension outside.

Marston stood up. 'Richard, dammit, you can't go on y'r own, dear fellow!'

Laughton held up his hand firmly. 'No, Gilbert, this is my plantation. I shall deal with it.' He turned and left.

'Don' like it - not one bit of it!' Marston rumbled.

'Nor do I,' said the lawyer. 'You know how they work - set an outbuilding on fire, then when all attention is on that, they fall upon the Great House!'

The ladies stayed close together, chattering nervously, the men pacing around the room puffing cigars. Kydd looked through the open windows into the warm darkness. He glanced at Renzi, who was talking quietly with the butler. Renzi looked across at Kydd and beckoned discreetly. 'I do believe we should stand sentry-go around the house. I have asked for weapons.'

These turned out to be large, ugly blunderbusses, with their flared muzzles a strong deterrent to any kind of unrest. 'I will take the north side, if you would be so good as to patrol the south,' Renzi suggested. The rest of the room watched respectfully, and as they left there were low calls of encouragement from the other men.

Outside, away from the bright glitter of candlelight and silver, it was impenetrably black. The darkness was the more menacing for its total anonymity and Kydd felt hairs prickle on the back of his neck. From the windows of the Great House, houseboys looked out fearfully. There was a movement behind him. Kydd wheeled around: it was Marston.