‘Indeed, my lord. A little more of the same would be most welcome.’
That evening, an effusive Willoughby promised to help him find passage home as soon as possible and appointed him in the meantime to the position of principal secretary to the governor. Taken by surprise, Thomas delicately enquired as to the position of the present principal secretary.
‘I find that one can’t have too many secretaries, Thomas. Rest assured, I shall find you plenty to do and I shall send for you when I need you. My valet has selected some appropriate clothes for you. After dinner you must try them on. We have a seamstress who will alter them for you, my figure being somewhat more substantial than yours.’
After an excellent dinner, a restful night and more help from Annie, Thomas, now principal secretary to Lord Willoughby, rode back to the Lytes’ estate. With Willoughby’s personal support, surely there would be no more disappointments and it would not be long before he boarded a ship for England.
Chapter 27
1652
THE NEWS OF Colonel Modyford’s declaration for Parliament was not long in coming and when it did it altered the balance of power, giving Ayscue a small advantage in numbers.
Willoughby immediately sent word to Captain Brown to hurry south with the three hundred men under his command. He did not now have the resources to split his strength and the defending army could no longer hope to hold its line in the south. It withdrew speedily to a position prepared on a plateau between two ridges above Oistins.
From the plateau, Willoughby could look out over Oistins to the sea beyond. Low hills protected his east wing and a sharp drop down to the town protected his west wing and rear. The enemy could only attack from his front. When Thomas had decrypted the message, Willoughby had made sure that he controlled the road from Bridgetown, thus preventing Modyford from cutting off his withdrawal. Had he been trapped in the town there would have been no escape. Bridgetown and Oistins harbours had to be left undefended, enabling Ayscue to land his troops the following day. He was met by Modyford and together they marched to face Willoughby.
When both sides had assembled, a force of about eighteen hundred men and two hundred horse led by Francis, Lord Willoughby of Parham, faced another with two thousand men and three hundred horse under the command of Admiral Sir George Ayscue.
The armies were encamped in close formation, their horses and baggage trains being held in the rear. Fires burned outside tents, there was constant movement of men and animals and a continual hubbub from both camps. Nearly four thousand men and five hundred horses were making a great deal of noise. Furthermore, their preparations were not being helped by a flurry of unseasonal rainstorms which were turning the ground, already churned up by horses and artillery, into thick mud.
On the second morning, Willoughby sent for his new principal secretary, Adam Lyte and Charles Carrington. The four men met in a cottage behind the Royalist lines, where Willoughby had set up his headquarters. The owner of the cottage had obligingly abandoned it to join Sir George Ayscue, leaving his roof, bed, furniture and kitchen at the disposal of his lordship.
‘Gentlemen,’ began Willoughby, ‘I have taken the unusual step of inviting you here without other Assembly members present because I trust each of you implicitly. Regrettably, I can now trust almost no one else. Thomas is here as my secretary and will record our decisions. And, of course, we may need his particular talents again.’
Thomas, a little self-conscious in one of his lordship’s pale blue silk shirts and a pair of his embroidered cotton breeches, inclined his head in thanks.
Willoughby continued, ‘The very thing we wanted to avoid is now upon us. Modyford has acted in what he thinks are his own interests, without the inconvenience of principle. We are outnumbered and outgunned and we face a battle far out of proportion to the size of our island. There are a little above forty thousand souls in Barbados, of whom four thousand are about to start killing each other. I do believe we are mad.’
‘Put like that, Francis, I do believe we are,’ agreed Charles. ‘Everything that’s been achieved since the Powells first arrived here is about to be destroyed. Peace and prosperity are being sacrificed in the name of politics. Cromwell is determined to take the island at any cost, even that of its future.’
Willoughby looked thoughtful. ‘The question is, should we resist him or should we not? We are unlikely now to win a pitched battle but I have sworn to defend the island in the name of Charles Stuart, our rightful king.’
‘What does Walrond say?’ asked Adam. Immediately after the skirmish at Six Mens Bay, Humphrey Walrond, still licking the wounds suffered from having to relinquish his hard-won governorship, had swallowed his pride and led a troop of three hundred militiamen to support Willoughby.
‘Walrond of course wants to fight. He is not a man hampered by self-doubt or by subtlety of mind. He knows he is right and that as a consequence he will prevail. It is not a view I share.’
‘My lord,’ said Adam, ‘other than the Walronds, I doubt there is a landowner on the island who really wants to fight. Demand for our sugar has never been greater, we are learning new ways of producing it and land values are rising. The last thing we need is for it all to be put at risk.’
‘The king, however, expects me to hold the island.’
Charles looked out of the window. ‘If it goes on raining like this, we shall need ships, not cavalry. It is most unusual for January.’
‘Gentlemen,’ said Willoughby, standing up, ‘we need to think more before acting. Please remain in the camp for the present. I shall have further need of your advice.’
For another tedious day, the two armies faced each other. The rain fell steadily and both camps were rapidly becoming little more than sodden bogs. Water gushed down the hillside while officers on both sides shouted frantic orders to drenched soldiers to get muskets and powder under cover and to protect their cannon with whatever they could find. Cooking fires spluttered and died, miserable soldiers huddled in tents and under trees and horses hung their heads and turned their backs to the wind.
Charles pitched his tent at the rear of the line where the ground was a little firmer. Adam and Thomas were sharing one beside him. Other than try to keep dry and warm, they had little to do. Their sole diversion came from one of the low hills overlooking the plateau, where a group of Ranters, their numbers recently swelled by an influx of new recruits from both armies, were watching the scene unfolding below them.
Lord Willoughby’s camp had been visited by a deputation of Ranters led by Catherine. She and her helpers had used their skills to entice several dozen soldiers up the hill to their camp. The more reluctant of the men had been persuaded by a taste of what life with the Ranters had to offer.
From time to time, their leader started up on his flute and the Ranters, holding hands and singing, danced naked around him. One of the dancers was the Reverend Simeon Strange. Both the flautist and the dancers appeared impervious to the rain and to the ribald shouts of encouragement from their audience of dripping soldiers.
After two days of rain, Thomas was sure that it could not go on and that they would wake the next morning to a cloudless sky and a blazing Caribbean sun.
But it could go on and it did. It rained all night and all the next morning. By noon, all attempts to keep men and equipment dry had been abandoned and morale had collapsed. Even Colonel Walrond’s troop had been depleted by men disappearing back to their homes and families under cover of darkness.