Hunt for White Gold

Chapter Thirty-One





‘O bury me not in the deep, deep sea,



The words came low and mournfully



From the paled lips of a youth who lay



On his cabin couch at the close of day.



He had wasted and pined till o’er his brow,



Death’s shade had slowly passed, and now



Where the land and his fond loved home were nigh



They had gathered around him to see him die.’





The slow lament from the Spanish guitar and the low fife drifting from the open windows and doors of the Porker’s End reached even the windows of Rogers’ office where Devlin stood alone amidst a throng of enemies casting judgement. Chained still, a soldier to each side, standing before Rogers’ oak desk like a schoolboy summoned, Devlin listened to the end of the song and the words from the desk that finally drowned it out.

Rogers, Coxon, Howell Davis and Captain Finch were all present and all seated except Coxon who stood a pace away from Devlin with an eye trained on him while Rogers raked over Devlin’s past.

‘As I understand from your crimes of piracy, Mister Devlin, it began with the theft of a Porto man of war from out of the Verdes. Is that a true assumption?’

‘It has a manner of truth about it, Governor,’ Devlin said.

‘Well, is it true or not, man?’ Rogers snapped.

‘I was escaping with my life, Governor. A lot of death that night.’

‘I have faith in that I’m sure.’ Rogers lifted the paper from the desk, squinting as he studied the print. ‘Then there is the matter of a Dutch ship, pirated mid-Atlantic, another enemy gathered against you. Another ally of your King you chose to defile.’

‘She was a slaver, Governor,’ Devlin interjected calmly. ‘She was defiled enough.’

Rogers ignored the remark, not even lifting a glance from the vellum page. ‘Then of course there is the theft of the French gold. Your most audacious crime. Fortunately we have a survivor with us in this very room who can enlighten us more as to the nature of that one.’

Nobody needed Rogers to indicate Coxon. Devlin spoke before Coxon could open his mouth.

‘Am I on trial here, Governor?’ he asked. ‘I thought the Act of Pardon precluded such, Your Worship.’

Rogers blinked at the chained pirate. His features remained unperturbed but a vein had begun to pulse against his cravat. ‘The pardon, pirate, is for those who give up their lawless ways voluntarily. Not for those that are captured and brought to justice.’

Devlin leapt on Rogers’ words. ‘Ah, then we merely have a difference of opinion, for I was on my way back to Providence for that very reason when the Mumvil attacked my ship. In defending myself and my men I was brought here. The means may be different but the ending is the same. I have come to take the pardon offered by my King. An acre I believe? Something with a sea aspect will suit me fine, Your Worship.’

Rogers looked at one of the soldiers shadowing Devlin and nodded curtly. The man stabbed his musket butt into the back of Devlin’s knee causing the rest of the room, except Rogers and Coxon, to wince in their seats.

Devlin fell forward on his knee with a crack to the cap upon the stone floor. He twisted painfully against the soldier’s thigh as he sucked up the pain. He lifted his head, eyes now facing the corner of the room as Rogers continued, but he was no longer listening to him.

His eye had fallen on the junk nestling in the corner and his pain had vanished when a red sparkling eye looked back at him enticingly. Rogers droned on but Devlin only noticed the Spanish guitar and the pirate songs lilting up from the town below as a contented expression flitted briefly across his face.

He looked up at the man who had assaulted him, checking for any empathy due a decent soldier simply following harsh orders. Instead he found the grimace of a man who enjoys the kicking of his dog or beating a horse beyond its labours. That would do. He spoke softly enough just for the soldier to hear.

‘Touch me once more and I’ll kill you.’

The soldier smiled at first, thinking of the manacles, his own weapon, his fellow beside him and the support of the room all around him against the man at his knees. His smile faded as Devlin rose slowly to his feet. He stood close to the soldier’s side so the man could feel the elbow against his forearm and a solid shoulder close to his cheek as the pirate racked up to his full height and even leant his boot against the soldier’s, touching it as if resting on a cobbler’s shelf. The closeness felt cold to the redcoat, as if the man beside him had already delegated him dead and gone. His eyes shifted to his feet and he inched away just enough to stop any part of the pirate touching him.

‘Captain Finch,’ Rogers addressed the ex-commander of the Mumvil Trader. ‘I must say I am a little confused.’

‘How so, sir?’ Finch asked.

‘You said that your ship was taken in the night by at least half your crew. You indicated that a man, Seth Toombs, was the chief conspirator and that Mister Davis here was most certainly involved.’

‘That he was, sir,’ Finch confirmed.

Rogers lifted his head to Howell Davis. ‘So how is it, Mister Davis, that you came to the point of bringing Devlin in? Tell us what happened after the night where you appeared to be one of the ringleaders of this mutiny.’ He studied Howell carefully, watching his reactions. ‘Is there something else going on here that I should perhaps be aware of?’

Howell, sitting beneath the window overlooking the square, looked nervously at Finch from across the room. He had been listening to the songs from the Porker’s End and wishing he had been part of that gathering and not this ill-matched game of cards.

‘Seth Toombs led the mutiny, sir. We were all pressed into it so to speak. Fear of our own throats, Governor. After a couple of days however, once we’d all sobered up that is, we saw the error of our ways and took back the ship from Toombs. He didn’t take kindly to that but bowed to our numbers like,’ he paused as Devlin threw a brief glance over his shoulder. All eyes were on Howell and only Coxon caught the look and felt his body tense.

‘Anyways,’ Howell carried on. ‘We were attacked by the pirate Devlin here on our way back, so. He showed his flag but we won the day. We brought his ship in, Governor. The Talefan. She be latched to mine in the harbour. All the men that live are with you now.’

‘And what of the Shadow?’ Coxon asked Howell. ‘Where was she?’ He kept his eyes on Devlin’s.

Howell leant forward to hear again. ‘What Shadow, sir?’

‘The frigate. His warship.’ Coxon moved in front of Devlin, blocking Rogers’ sight. ‘Where did this Talefan spring from, Patrick?’

‘I took her in Madagascar. Left the Shadow with the bulk of my men. My quartermaster with her. I came here with but a handful.’

‘And why did you come here, Patrick?’ pressed his former master. ‘Why Providence? If it was to take the pardon you could have done that at any colony. Why here at all?’

‘Enough, John!’ Rogers declared, his voice pulling Coxon back away from Devlin. ‘I take it, pirate, that your ship still has some of this stolen French gold upon it?’

‘It has some of it, Your Worship, enough to show my allegiance to yourself and my King,’ Devlin gave a side look to Coxon. ‘The bulk of it is in other hands now.’

‘Wasted on women and drink I shouldn’t wonder,’ Rogers snorted.

‘Hardly wasted, Your Worship,’ Devlin grinned.

‘Well, never mind,’ Rogers sat back. ‘John, you will escort Mister Davis back to the Mumvil and this Talefan and retrieve the gold,’ he raised his voice to catch Howell’s attention. ‘Mister Davis, you are to be rewarded for your loyalty.’

Howell stood, hat in hand.

‘You are to be given command of the Buck. A fairer sloop, that sailed with me from England and isn’t so sullied with this pirate mess. It sailed back the first time at least. You have done well, sir. I should like you to continue the original mission and fetch supplies from Hispaniola and then onto Martinique to do the same for we are now in desperate need.’ He had already begun to scratch the order into his log.

Coxon stepped forward and spoke as peacefully as he could. ‘With respect, Governor, perhaps Howell is not quite the man to take such a voyage. Given his recent experiences.’

Rogers did not look up from his penmanship. ‘He has captured a pirate, overturned a mutiny and returned with a hold of gold. Should I throw him in a cell perhaps, John?’

Coxon started a little and stabbed a finger at Devlin, his voice rising, ‘I know this man, sir, and I would ask you not to measure him by the state of his clothes or the accent of his voice or the company he keeps but more …’ he began to flush, feeling the focus of the whole room upon him. Rogers looked up.

‘How should I estimate him, John?’

Coxon leant on the desk over Rogers’ writing hand. ‘By the moment when you first saw him and the hair stood up on the back of your neck.’ He straightened. ‘I would appreciate it, Governor, if you would register for the record that I recommended the hanging of this man.’

‘I will note it, John,’ Rogers continued to write. ‘However, it is my duty here to reinforce the King’s Act and in my considered opinion it would benefit that act if a man like Devlin were to bow to it. It may encourage others equally notable to do the same. To see value in its peace. I wouldn’t be surprised to see even Blackbeard follow him to these shores after such an announcement.’

Devlin bowed, ‘We can only hope, Your Worship.’

‘In the meantime, take him to a cell below. Increase your patrols of the shores if you wish. Mount yourself upon my battlements with spyglass all day and keep an eye out for his ship. Do whatever you feel is appropriate, with my full warrant.’ He put back his pen and stood. ‘Gentlemen, that is all. I am retiring for dinner. The pirate Devlin will sign the proclamation in the morning. I will have my clerk convene the town for the occasion.’ He moved away from his desk and tipped a hand to Howell. ‘Congratulations, Captain Davis, I will have your papers drawn up also. That is all gentlemen, that is all.’

Howell bowed until Rogers left the room then ducked his way out, avoiding everyone’s looks, Captain Finch’s most of all, and made for the stairs and the relief of the outside.

Finch followed, watching Howell’s heels kicking down the stone spiral steps. Coxon, Devlin and the two soldiers were alone.

Coxon wiped his brow of sweat, and replaced his hat. ‘Bring him to the cells,’ he ordered. ‘And watch him.’ He swept out of the room.

Devlin resumed his close position to the soldier at his right. Elbow, shoulder and foot touching to an uncomfortable closeness. The soldier stepped back.

‘You take him down, Jim,’ the soldier’s voice a tremor to his mate. ‘I’ll watch his back.’ He snapped up his musket at half-cock taking care not to touch any part of the pirate with his weapon, then followed carefully, his musket at the pirate’s spine, and listened to Devlin talking about ghosts and dead men all the way down the stairs to the gaol.