Richard glanced at him and nodded. 'If that is your wish, Nicholas,' he said neutrally, bringing the gig dextrously to the side of the road. They sat patiently as an ox train heavily laden with barrels of crude sugar for the coast approached in a dusty cloud, the yells and shrill whistles of the wagoners piercing the thunder of many wheels as they ground past. The overseer raised his whip respectfully in salute to Laughton; the handle was like a fishing rod and the rawhide tail all of seventy feet long.
They resumed their journey, turning up a neat road lined with what looked like gigantic pineapples, blue, red and white convolvulus blooms entwined among them. 'Penguin hedge,' Laughton said, and when the road straightened to a line leading to a sprawling stately homestead, he added, 'and this is the Great House.'
They approached between immaculate lawns, and Renzi saw the scale of the place, grand and dignified. A bare-legged ostler took the reins as they descended from the gig. Stone steps and an iron balustrade led to a broad veranda and the front doors.
'Do ye wait for me a short time, Nicholas, and I shall show you the estate,' Laughton said, taking the steps two at a time. He pointed to a cane easy-chair as he strode inside, which Renzi politely accepted. Shortly afterwards Laughton emerged, now in a blue, square-cut coatee and hessian boots, and wearing a broad-brimmed straw hat. They mounted the gig again and ground off.
'Over nine hundred acres, an' four hundred to work it, quite sizeable - all sugar,' Laughton opened, with just a hint of pride. They passed a gang of field-workers trudging out to the cane-pieces: men, women, children. At Renzi's look he added, 'Each has his task, even the piccaninny — follows on behind and weeds the fields. Teaches 'em responsibility.'
Reaching a cluster of out-houses, Renzi heard a loud rumble and creaking. Around the corner he saw the open, straw-covered busyness of a sugar mill. The rotating rollers were fed with cane stalks in a crashing, splintering chorus; the mill workers did not raise their eyes from feeding the cane into the maw of the rollers. A large axe with a glinting blade was hung on the mill frame. Laughton observed drily, 'Better a limb severed than being dragged into ...'
It was a complex operation, a sugar estate, and Renzi's concentration wilted under a barrage of details: slaves gained skills ranging from fieldworker to muleteer, sawyer, driver, and varied in origin from 'salt-water slave' from Africa to infant born on the estate.
The heat of the afternoon suggested they should return to the Great House, and they sank thankfully into the cane chairs on the veranda. Laughton heaved up his boots to rest them on the rail, and clapped his hands. 'Sangaree,' he ordered of the white-coated houseman.
The breeze of the trade-winds was deliriously cool and Renzi relaxed. 'You have done well for yourself, dear Richard,' he said, looking at the rolling lands reaching to the horizon.
'Thank you, Nicholas. It was Father gave me my step, as you know,' Laughton replied. He accepted his glass of sangaree, and glanced carefully at Renzi before he sipped the rosy liquid in wary silence. "The letter from home was scarce in details, brother,' he began softly. 'Said you had — disappeared after an argument with Papa.'
That was paraphrasing truth indeed: the bull-headed obstinacy of Renzi's father to acknowledge any culpability in the ruination of ten families and the anguished suicide of the young hope of one was a direct contribution to his decision to take upon himself the moral obloquy of his family's act. 'Indeed so - but in truth, this is only the outworking of a decision I made .. .' He found it easier than he had feared: Richard was from the same mould as himself, strong-minded, obedient to logic, and sympathetic to firm resolve based on moral principles.
Renzi finally ended: it had been said.
His brother did not respond at first. Then he stood up, looking away, out over the estate. He turned, fixed Renzi with an intense look, and smiled. 'You were always one to show the rest of the world its duty,' he held out both hands, 'and I honour you for it'
Another glass of sangaree was necessary before conversation could resume.
Laughton's warm smile returned. 'Your name, if you will forgive the impertinence?'
‘Renzi? Why, nothing but an impenetrably obscure Italian of another age. He was unfashionable enough to value riches of the mind above that of the world, and I ... have grown used to it' He reached for the jug of sangaree and splashed more into his glass.
'My dear fellow! But you have been a sailor on the bounding main all this time! You must have a tale to tell - or should that be a yam?'
'It has been a life of some, er, variety,' agreed Renzi.
'But the conditions! You were a common sailor and—'
'And still am, brother.'
A slight frown settled on Laughton's brow. 'Just so. Then how could you bear the incarceration and daily hazard? Pray tell - I'm interested.'
Renzi smiled at Laughton's attempt to relate to his endurance. 'I bring to your recollection, brother, that this is the serving of a period of exile, and tolerability is not at question.' He paused, then stretched in his chair. 'However, I may tell you I have had adventures ashore and afloat around the world that will keep me warm in memories for ever. But, you will ask, what of the company, the common seaman, the brute beast of the field?'
Renzi faced his brother. 'And I will answer truthfully that those who have not experienced the especial fellowship of the sea, the profound and never articulated feeling of man for his fellow, out there on the yardarm, at the cannon's mouth, deep in the ocean's realm, they cannot know mankind in all its imperfection yet heroism.' He gazed into the distance. 'There is time at sea to ease the mind, to contemplate infinite truths and consider in their intimate detail philosophies and axioms to complete satisfaction.'
'You do not weary of the quality of your company?'
'At times I — but I keep myself impervious, there are ways to remain apart,' Renzi said slowly, 'and I have a particular friend .. .' He tailed off, for with a rush came a vision of Kydd's face - strong and uncomplicated — which held both intelligence and humour. He continued huskily,'. .. but I regret he has met with - he is probably dead,' he finished suddenly.
'I do sincerely mourn with you,' said Laughton softly. He busied himself with his glass and said, 'It would be an honour, brother, if you could sit at table with us tonight. We generally meet on this night, not in the formal way you understand, but to talk together, perhaps a cigar or pipe while we settle the business of the world.' His eyes flicked over Renzi's odd clerkly garb. 'And there is probably a stitch somewhere I could give you, should you feel the need to appear, er, inconspicuous,' he said lightly.
* * *
The cool night airs, which breezed freely through the double doors and on through the large airy rooms of the house, were agreeable to the guests as they sat down in the richly polished dining room.
'Gilbert, might I present Mr Renzi, an acquaintance of mine from England? Nicholas, this is Gilbert Marston. He is owner of the estate that borders mine to the west.'
Renzi inclined his head civilly at the stout gentle-man to his left, noting the shrewd intelligence in his eyes.
'Y'r duty,' the man said gruffly. 'In coffee, are ye?'
'No, sir, alas, I am here to visit only,' Renzi said, leaning back to allow a vast dish to be placed on the table. 'I have my interests, er, in the country — England, that is.'
'Ah.' Marston sniffed at the dish, strips of dried dark meat. 'Jerked hog. Y' got to hand it to the blackies, they c'n conjure a riot o' tastes.' Another vast tureen arrived. When the silver cover was removed it proved to be a mound of small, delicate fish. Yet another came: this was uncovered to loud acclamation. 'See here, Renzi,' said Marston, eyes agleam, 'this is y'r Jamaica dish royal - black crab pepperpot.'
The conversation swelled happily. Renzi noticed his brother gazing at him down the table, thoughtful and concerned. His expression brightened when their eyes met and he called, 'You will require a quantity of wine with that pepperpot, m' friend. Allow me to prove we are not without the graces here in the Caribbean.'