"Nor will I!" said Flint, and fell silent. Charley Neal groaned in despair for the unravelling of all his diligent diplomacy.
"Charley," said Selena, "what about Bentham? In Savannah you said we might see him here."
"Danny boy?" said Neal. "Danny Bentham?" He sat up in the launch, peered among the dark hulls and spider-web rigging of the dozens of ships moored in the harbour. Neal had a sharp eye for ships, keen as a seaman's.
"There — " he said, pointing over the cold water "- the snow Hercules: three hundred tons, bearing ten six-pounders, two brass nines, and about thirty men. That's Danny's flagship. And alongside of it, there's his second vessel, the sloop Sweet Anne: Captain Lewis Parry, a hundred and eighty tons, bearing eight six-pounders, six four-pounders, and about twenty men."
"Snow?" said Selena. "Like in winter, in the north? How's that different from a sloop?" She was fast learning the arcane naming of ships, but this was a new one.
"Well, a sloop, you know," said Flint, "being a two-masted vessel, handy and fast, and usually of no great size." She nodded. "A snow is also two-masted, but strongly built, with an auxiliary mast stepped a few feet aft of the mainmast, on which the gaff is set."
"Hmm," said Selena, "but why does Captain Bentham have only fifty men, in two vessels? "That's not many for a gentleman of fortune!"
Flint nodded in approval. "That's my little chick!" he said, and turned to Neal. "My lady is right. It's not many men."
"Ah," said Neal, "Danny's had some bad luck."
"What sort?" said Flint.
"This and that," said Neal. "But he's got two good ships. And, he's a man in need. So he'll meet you. But for God's sake, be sweet, Joe!"
"Isn't he a pirate?" said Selena, looking at the great number of guns on the walls and bastions of Charlestown, and the Union Jack that flew over them. "Why don't they sink him?"
"There's good reasons!" said Neal. "This isn't Savannah, where anything goes, but if a captain knows people, and he comes in nice and quiet, and brings letters of introduction…" Charley shrugged. "Just as we've got a letter from the Governor of Savannah, Danny — " he nodded at Hercules "- well, Danny's got one from Sir Wyndham Godfrey of Upper Barbados, who'd oblige Old Nick himself for the usual fee."
Flint studied Bentham's ships.
"Those two, with Walrus, would answer my purpose."
"Aye," said Neal, "but Danny won't do it for the love of you."
"I know," said Flint. "And it comes back to ready money. So how did you say farewell to Mr Pimenta?"
"Ahhhh…" said Neal. "Hmmm…"
"Well?"
"Now you'll appreciate, Joe, that you made it hard for me?"
"Perhaps."
"No, but you did. You scared the shite out of the poor man."
"Bear up and shake a reef, Charley! Get on with it."
"Well, I told him Miss Selena is your wife…"
"What?" said Flint.
"Huh!" said Selena.
"And I went so far as to say that there is a very great deal of money involved in your business, and all of it in ready coin or precious metal."
Flint scowled. One of the oarsmen — who'd seen that expression before, and knew what might follow — missed his stroke and went over in a rumbling clatter of confusion. The boat swerved.
"Avast there, you no-seaman lubber!" cried the stopped- grog Morton, happy to take out his misery on another. "Do that again and I'll kick my boot heel-deep up your bastard arsehole!"
Clunk… Clunk… Clunk… the stroke resumed.
"Joe," said Neal, "I didn't mention the island, or John Silver, or anything. But if there isn't gold in this for Pimenta, then he won't touch us. He knows who you are and what you are." Neal raised a hand in defence. "Joe, don't give me that look! This is a very big man. You're only safe from the guns of Charlestown because he knows you. You and Danny Bentham both."
"Huh!" said Flint. "So what does this big man say to me?"
"He says you're invited to his house for dinner with some other gentlemen this afternoon at three," said Neal, and looked at Selena. "And Mrs Garland is invited to call upon Mrs Pimenta tomorrow, the which is an astonishing act of condescension towards a lady of colour and shows how much Pimenta is interested."
"Good!" said Flint.
"What shall I wear?" said Selena.
"To freedom, gentlemen!" said Meshod Pimenta, raising a glass when the meal was done and the port going round. The dining room was the biggest in Pimenta's splendid residence, a town- house equal to any in London and built on classic Palladian lines.
"Freedom!" they said, and drank to it.
There were eight men round the table, all in their finest embroidered coats, silk stockings, diamond-buckled shoes, and Flint was the most splendid of them alclass="underline" gleaming, shining and charming. He was surprised to note that, while two of the guests were Sephardic Jews like Pimenta, the rest were gentiles — merchants from the top rank of Charlestown society — and all parties easy and comfortable together.
"I am three generations a Carolinian," said Pimenta. "My father and myself born here, and my grandfather — God rest him — came as an infant, loyal to no other land. Thus I pray for the time when the democracy of the Greeks reigns in Carolina and we shall rule ourselves as free men!"
"Enough!" said one of his friends, smiling. "No republicanism tonight, Pimenta. Spare us this day at least! Here's health to our sovereign, say I. Gentlemen… the king!"
"The king!" cried the self-same men and drained their glasses, Pimenta among them. But he wasn't done.
"Delacroix — " he said, turning to the young man who'd toasted the king, "- you're a modernist, so you must be a lover of freedom."
"What?" said Delacroix.
"Yes," said Pimenta, "your plantation is the biggest in the colony. You are the future!"
"Am I?" said Delacroix, who was not the brightest man present.
"Indeed," said Pimenta. "This colony was founded on the Indian trade — " he pointed to the magnificent ceiling above them, painted in celebration of colonial trade, depicting idealised noble savages exchanging skins and furs for knives and blankets — "but all that's past. The Indians are an obstacle now, not an opportunity. They can't be put to work; they love to fight, and they're dangerous!"
"Aye," said his friends.
"Which is why we were pleased to be rid of the Patanq," said Pimenta, warming to his subject. "We need to be rid of them, for the future — the modern way — is the importation of blacks to raise rice, cotton, sugar and tobacco. That will make the colony rich and will give us freedom!"
"Aye," they said.
"And what about the blacks?" said Flint.
"What about them?" said Pimenta.
"Shall they be free?"
"Sir!" Pimenta smiled. "Shall our cattle be free? And our horses?"
Everyone laughed, including Flint. He'd only asked for devilment.
Later, when Pimenta's friends were admiring his new billiard table — imported at great expense from England — Pimenta had a private word with Flint. Thanks to Charley Neal's intercession that morning, he'd overcome his fright at Flint's anger, and had managed to deceive himself that he was dealing with a normal man: a man of business like himself.
As before, he came too close and he grasped Flint's arm with patronising familiarity. Flint peered down at this arrogant little maggot, and hoped to get him — one day soon — at sea on board the Walrus, where a certain plank was patiently waiting for him.