Hunt for White Gold

Chapter Thirty-Five





Quarter of the Hour of Midnight





‘What’s this?’ The guard held up between pinched fingers the small vial of orange liquid that he had plucked from Palgrave’s satchel.

‘It is an elixir, sir. A compound for my own use. Particular problem of mine.’ Palgrave watched the guard remove the glass stopper and reel from the fume with his eyes smarting. ‘A potent bowel discharger, sir. But most foul in nature.’

‘You can keep it, mate,’ the guard gave it back to him and rifled his way through the rest of the satchel as Palgrave observed the eyes looking upon him from the cells circling the scene around the table.

Palgrave gripped the vial in his hand and paid no attention to the words from the guard as he fired a trio of questions to the soldiers accompanying him.

‘What’s he doing down here anyways? Why ain’t he in the barracks? Ain’t I got enough to bother me?’

‘Governor says so,’ the grimier of the two escorts declared. ‘He’s to sign in the morning with that Devlin. Something queer going on, I says.’

The guard snorted in agreement as he returned to the bag. ‘No weapons. No knife even. An apple, pencil, compass, leather gloves, pennyworth of paper.’ The guard dropped the satchel to the table scornfully. ‘No purse. Travel light don’t you?’ Silence. The other soldiers by Palgrave’s side elbowed him.

‘I came to surrender to the governor, nothing more.’

The guard shoved the satchel back at him and picked up a pen. ‘What’s your name, patroon?’

‘Williams. Palgrave Williams.’ To his left he saw one of the inmates suddenly jerk at the mention of his name. The guard scribbled the name as best he could, his hand pausing slightly as some remembrance of it flitted across his mind, its importance lost as he concentrated on his spelling.

The trio ushered Palgrave to the cells, away from Devlin’s corner. The guard glanced once into Dandon’s cell, dismissed the gold-capped smile as undeserving of company and wheeled Palgrave away to join the young and quieter prisoners, Rice and Cowrie. The guard whistled the soldiers away to their duty.

‘You’ll do better than this lot, patroon, anyways.’ He slammed the door and began the neat securing of the locks as he continued. ‘You’ll be free tomorrow with that Devlin over there,’ he cocked his head behind him to the man who had visibly recognised his name. ‘This lot will hang. It’ll be a silver oar for them in the morning!’ The gaoler’s reference to the traditional procession of a pirate to his gallows carrying a mock silver oar brought a wicked laugh from his fellows.

He strutted to his desk shouting for all to hear. ‘The great pirate Devlin!’ he mocked. ‘Brought to me with a broken ship, five men and nothing else!’ He sat down and helped himself to more of Devlin’s tobacco. ‘I heard you had a frigate and a hundred men. Richer than the pope you were. Pirated your way from Maracaibo to China. Where’s it all now then eh, Paddy?’ He chortled into his pipe as he puffed it into life. ‘Bloody bog-trotter,’ he smirked, then snapped upright to the sound of a coin chiming in Devlin’s cell as it chinked against the wall.

The pipe drooped as he looked at Devlin sitting on his bench rolling a gold coin between his fingers and looking to the wall where he had tossed the other. The second coin flew from his fingers and rang around the cell as he tried to land it closer to the wall, the guard’s eyes followed its flight. His chair scraped as he rose, mesmerised, but he still remembered to take up his musket.

From across the way Hugh Harris tapped Lawson’s arm and grinned. ‘Here we go, mate,’ he whispered as the pair watched the guard walk over to Devlin’s cell.

‘Where did you get that?’ he demanded, sure that Devlin had emptied every pocket of his clothes.

‘King Louis,’ Devlin replied as a third coin joined the two others.

Dandon looked over and thought of his own six coins snug in a leather strap sewn inside the rear seam of his waistcoat. He had settled on it being used as a bribe for some breakfast wine but Devlin clearly had other notions.

The guard began to grind his teeth as he blinked at the gold. ‘Let me see one of them coins,’ he demanded.

Devlin stopped his game. ‘You can have one, soldier, if you would bring my lads some beer and bread. Been hours since they ate. Ain’t too fair to hang a man on an empty belly.’

The soldier ran his tongue around his mouth. ‘Reckon I could manage that, patroon. Give me the coin and I’ll make it so.’ He lowered his musket to have an open hand towards the bars, not foolish enough to put his palm through. ‘Toss it me.’

Devlin closed his fist around the coin, its glint snuffed out. ‘Food first. You know the game.’

The soldier stepped back, musket up to his hip, thumb across the dog-head. ‘I could come in there and take them all, pirate.’

Devlin stood up slowly, a few good inches taller than even the soldier’s hat. ‘You could try,’ he breathed.

The soldier gripped his musket tighter. ‘Reckon I could drop you from here, pirate. Reckon you’d hit the wall like a dead pig from here.’

Dandon hung his arms out of the cell and yelled across helpfully. ‘I shouldn’t wonder that Governor Rogers would be most pleased with your decision to cancel his famed signing of the pardon in such a manner. Do you not think so, sir?’

The soldier lowered his gun, staring at Dandon for a moment. ‘Aye,’ he conceded, ‘I’ll get your plate. My watch is almost done anyhow. No skin of mine.’ Without waiting for a word from the cell he made for the stairs, settling in his head that almost three weeks’ wages for some bread and beer was more than enough for a bit of his time.

Devlin did not care whether the gaoler was still within earshot and began calling for Palgrave even before the footsteps had echoed away. ‘You! Palgrave Williams! I know you. You were one of Bellamy’s captains were you not?’

Palgrave came to his door, leaving behind the dour silence of his cell-mates. ‘I was, sir. And I gather you are the pirate Devlin, from that gentleman’s address?’

‘I’m Patrick Devlin,’ he rushed out the name, not bothering with any exchange of pleasantries for it would only be minutes before the guard returned and he wanted to waste none of them. ‘You’re here for the Chinese gun. Who are you with?’

Palgrave reeled a little at the knowledge vouchsafed from across the room. He stammered as he spoke back. ‘I … I am alone. Why should I not be?’

‘You’re a pirate, Palgrave. I says you are here with Blackbeard. I knows all about the gun. Knows all about the letters. I’m here for the same and you be sharing a cell with my men.’

Palgrave turned back to the men in the cell with him who winked merrily as Devlin continued.

‘You’ve found yourself in good company, Palgrave, even if it be in a cell. I ask you only this: you know Teach and so do I. Put yourself in my undertakings and know that your throat be safe with me. Or trust Teach, knowing the manner of him.’

Palgrave listened. Confused as he was there was only one fact that the man across the way seemed oblivious to. ‘We are both in a cell, sir. We will be free tomorrow to be sure but Rogers knows about the gun, if not its true nature. Granted my future may be safer with you rather than Captain Teach but I am inclined to let the Devil have the matter, sir. I will take the pardon and settle my days here. The destiny I thought I may have had with the gun is too noisy for my temperament.’

Dandon coughed, placed his left cheek against the bars and yelled along the row to Palgrave. ‘And how do you suppose that Captain Teach will take the news that you have decided to nestle down under Rogers’ breast and not return to his patronage?’ He waited a moment for the words to filter across. ‘Sometimes the devil you know is not always the prudent choice. I have wagered so myself, sir.’

Palgrave touched his lip and thought on. Aye, he would be free tomorrow but his neck would still ache, even without the prospect of the gallows, from the days he would spend looking over his shoulder and waiting for the slow knock upon his door. The soldiers would have reached Israel Hands and his boat by now. And even if Israel had got away, got back to Blackbeard, then Palgrave would be a lonely man for the last days of his life.

‘I will bide with you, Captain Devlin,’ he called out. ‘If you can grant me some security.’ He looked at his companions. ‘Besides, I’m sure your men would have it no other way. Tomorrow then, when we are both free, we shall talk on.’

Devlin could hear the footsteps returning. ‘My men will be hanged tomorrow. I know men like Rogers. They believe that necks speed men’s signatures.’

‘And so what else do you suggest, Captain Devlin? What are the letters to you, anyways?’

‘I can take care of the guards. I need the letters of the priest to free my quartermaster. No coin in it for me. If you can aid in that I’ll be indebted to you. And that ain’t a bad credit to have. You came here alone and not to drag a cannon back to Blackbeard. I reckon that bottle of yours discharges more than bowels. What does it do on porcelain?’

Palgrave’s voice became lower as the guard tapped back into the room. ‘About the same as it does on metal, Captain Devlin.’ And all of them stepped back from the bars as the soldier looked at them one by one, placing down the wooden jug and bread, and feeling the unpleasant shiver of silence all around him.