“We were standing after dinner in the verandah, looking across the narrow valley. This was what Bernard would always see or, if his circumstances changed, grieve for.
“His hand was resting on the banister of the verandah. I put my hand on his and told him, ‘I don’t know what would have happened to me here if you hadn’t come to see me that day a year ago at Government House.’
“He looked at me, considered me. Tears came to his eyes. He said, ‘I hope it goes well for you, General. I am sure it will.’
“Hislop will not refuse what I offer, Sally. I have something quite important to offer him. The ways of the world are returning to me already, and Leander might see his father even before you read this letter.”
WHERE THERE had been Africans in the grounds, speaking an African language, there were now Chinese. They were small, shrunken men with bony faces. They wore conical straw hats and long black pigtails. Their sun-browned arms were stringy and looked very thin in the very wide short sleeves of their cream-coloured tunics. Their wide, slack pants, in material of the same colour, came down to just below the knees. They looked very old; their eyes looked pulpy and vulnerable.
Some minutes after the servant had taken in Miranda’s name, Hislop came out to the verandah. And it was there, standing, that they talked. The rain and sun of a year had further darkened the pine floorboards, eaten away a little more of the soft wood between the ridges of the hard wood.
Hislop said, “I’ve got your letter, Mr. Miranda, but you will understand that my position is not easy. Be’nard will have told you about Lord Castlereagh’s directive.”
Miranda said, “The directives of ministers are variable, because they do not always remain pertinent. Lord Castlereagh sent his congratulations about the way you dealt with the slave conspiracy. But that has not prevented the free people of colour agitating this past year about one of their number whose ears were cut off. That is potentially a serious matter, and I think you will find that if it goes much further, Lord Castlereagh will distance himself from the action. In fact, I want to talk to you about legal matters. What I have to say will interest you.”
“That was what you said in your letter.”
“I campaigned against Picton when he was governor here, and to some extent I am responsible for his dismissal. Afterwards I sent out an agent here, Pedro Vargas. He didn’t attend to his obligations to me. The reports he sent me were dangerous lies and nonsense. He attached himself to the commissioner who was investigating Picton’s rule. He was described as an assessor in Spanish law and as such he became one of Picton’s accusers. His evidence at the trial condemned Picton. He said that Spanish law didn’t permit the torture of free men. This is nonsense, as we all know. But Vargas was the only man in London with a copy of the relevant Spanish lawbooks, and in a time of a great war it wasn’t easy to get another expert in Spanish law.”
Hislop said, “I’ve spent many nights wondering how I could prove in a London court that the Spanish practise torture.”
“Vargas was a brave man at one time. He took part in a dangerous conspiracy in New Granada. He was imprisoned and tortured. Somehow afterwards he made his way to England. This was in 1799. He turned to me for help when he arrived. He wrote me a long letter full of circumstantial details of his torture. This letter, if produced in a court of law, will destroy the evidence he gave at the Picton trial. The case against Picton will disappear. And so will the case the free people of colour are preparing against you about the man of colour who used a love potion and was tortured by Vallot.”
“You never told me this. We sat in this house a year ago and talked about this matter.”
“I had forgotten. I was reminded of it only a few weeks ago when a sailor wrote me from the jail here. I began to think in my idleness of all the appeals and the begging letters that had been sent me. I don’t think I remember the names of those people. I’ve already forgotten the name of the Swede. And I don’t think that, apart from the details of the torture, the Vargas letter could have been much good. It would have been full of rhetoric, like the nonsense he wrote me from here. There is another reason. All of us who are political exiles and have dealings with the government have secret names that are used in correspondence. Vargas’s secret name was Oribe.’ That was how he wrote me, and that was how I remembered it. My secret name, as you know, is Mr. George Martin.”
“This letter is among your papers in London?”
“The papers of thirty-five years. They are in thirty cardboard boxes and two leather portfolios. I have a rough idea where to look. It would be impossible for anyone else to find. The Picton appeal is coming up soon.”
“It might be useful for you to be there beforehand.”
“Important things are preparing, General. A big force, and General Wellesley. I think you have an idea. If I don’t get to London in time, there may be no room for me in the plans now being made. And there may be no need for me to have a staff. If I were to have a staff, I would need someone who has a knowledge of Spanish and would know how to deal with British military people at the highest level. I know very well it’s not been a bed of roses for you here.”
“General.”
“As far as the Spanish government is concerned, they need only know that I am leaving this place, abandoning my enterprise, leaving my ship behind, my supplies, and going back to London. Lord Castlereagh will not be embarrassed in any way. And success, you know, General, wipes out certain things. Of course, since I am going back to London I have no further need of my ship. The ship can be sold or in some way disposed of. There is solid value there. I will leave you as my agent. You will do me that service. I am sure that, between you and Briarly and the master of the Trimmer and the disgruntled Americans of the Leander, certain matters can be adjusted.”
“Something can be done. About Briarly, I think I should tell you that I sent him to the jail for a while.”
“Did you, did you?”
“He complained from the jail about the stench and the filth. I handled his complaint with perfect correctness. I passed it to the provost-marshal. The jail is his responsibility. He collects a portion of the jail fees. The provost-marshal said the jail was as clean as a jail could be kept. It was washed down every day. I passed that message back to Briarly in the jail. I don’t think it did him any harm. He had really become quite impossible. He seized the ship that brought the Chinese from Calcutta. It’s an East India Company ship, but he claimed there had been some irregularity. We are still wrangling about that. Nobody’s sure who’s paying for the ship and the Chinese. Our Treasury here is quite empty. We don’t know whether we are supposed to be paying the Company, or the London government is paying. Until that is cleared up we don’t have a ship to send the Chinese back. They didn’t work out. I feel that when the East India Company people in Calcutta were told by London to send Chinese to us, they just went out and emptied the first opium houses they found. I don’t believe these people ever planted a tree in Calcutta or grew a vegetable or hoed a weed. They are city people. And nobody in London or Calcutta thought about women. These Chinese wouldn’t look at Negro women. And no free mulatto woman would look at the Chinese. So they have just gone mad over the year they’ve been here. They’ve been here for as long as you, General. They hate being stared at, and there are still people who want to come and look at them. They’ve been keeping going only on the opium. Many of them have died. I want to send the rest back as soon as possible.”