‘Charles Carrington. What if he doesn’t believe me? Will I be hanged?’
‘No, Agatha, you won’t be hanged. If Mr Carrington asks for proof, say “The Gibbes are dead.”’
‘“The Gibbes are dead.” I can remember that, sir.’
‘Good. Now repeat the message, please. It must be exactly as I have said.’
But before Agatha could repeat the message, there was a loud knock on the door. ‘It’s Ned, sir. The boat is here.’
‘Come in, Ned. All ready for you.’
‘That’s a relief, sir,’ said Ned, opening the door. ‘I was afraid you’d be half-cocked, if you know what I mean.’
‘Fully cocked, Ned, thank you. Here she is.’ With a quick smile, Agatha followed Ned up to the deck.
Thomas lay down and closed his eyes. It’s a slim chance, he thought. She has to find Carrington, she has to deliver the message accurately and she has to be believed. I wouldn’t put a guinea on it.
That night he lay awake, imagining how Agatha would go about her task or, indeed, if she would go about it at all. True, he had probably saved her life and her mother’s, but the prospect of making her way up the hill to Lord Willoughby’s lines, finding Charles Carrington and convincing him that the message was genuine might be too much for her. She might forget her debt and go home. Why would a whore do otherwise? If she did try, how would she persuade the sentries to let her past? The only way she knew how, he supposed. And if she did find Charles, would he see her and, if he did, would he believe her? If, if, if. Would that he could have thought of another way to send word.
Word from the longboats the next day was that battle had not yet commenced and that both sides were still sloshing about waiting for a break in the rain. Thomas could only sit in his tiny cabin and think about Agatha. Even if the girl had found Charles, which was a tall enough order, he would have been quite justified in thinking that under threat of torture Thomas had sent false intelligence and that the fleet really were reinforcements. Willoughby would then have no choice but to agree to Ayscue’s demands, Ayscue would be appointed governor and Rush would demand Thomas’s immediate execution as a spy.
And the message was not his only worry. As far as he knew the deception had not been discovered – he was being treated well enough – but the arrival of any one of the longboats might bring an order for his death. Even if the message went undetected, Ayscue had made his fate quite plain if he were revealed to be a spy and an indentured man pretending to be the governor’s secretary was certainly a spy. Thomas lay on his cot and listened to the rain.
After a long day with only a brief turn on the deck and an interminable night of worrying and wondering, Thomas was eating his breakfast when the young captain who had first received him on board knocked on his cabin door, entered without being invited to and read out the order. ‘Thomas Hill,’ he announced importantly, ‘this order commands me to have you taken at once to the Assembly House, where you are awaited.’
‘Awaited by whom, captain?’
‘It does not say, but the order is signed by Sir George Ayscue.’
‘May I see it?’ The captain held out the order. The signature was indeed that of Ayscue. ‘Has there been a truce?’
‘That I do not know. Now kindly make haste. The longboat will take you ashore. You will have an escort.’
Accompanied by two armed sailors, Thomas descended the rope ladder and settled into the boat. It was still raining and the sea was choppy, but he hardly noticed. An order from Sir George Ayscue did not augur well. If Willoughby had capitulated, Agatha had not delivered the message or it had been disbelieved and his principal secretary would hang. Rush would get his way.
The trip to the harbour did not take long. Thomas was helped on to the quay by his escort, put into a carriage with two guards and taken to Bridgetown. At the Assembly House they left him in charge of another guard, who showed him to a small antechamber, closed the door and stood to attention outside it. Thomas sat down and waited to learn his fate.
When he heard voices approaching, he stood up. The door was thrown open and Lord Willoughby, resplendent in full ceremonial dress and followed by Charles Carrington and Adam Lyte, swept in. ‘There you are, Thomas Hill. I am much relieved to see you safe.’ His lordship offered his hand. Thomas’s mind went blank and he only just managed not to kiss it.
‘Your lordship, my relief is greater even than yours. I understood that Sir George Ayscue had ordered me to be brought here and feared the worst.’
‘Indeed he did. The Rainbow is, after all, his ship. I doubt that his captain would have paid much heed to an order signed by me.’
‘Stop looking as if you’ve seen a ghost, Thomas,’ said Charles, ‘or I’ll have you sent back to the ship.’
‘And you’ve got work to do,’ added Adam, ‘so collect your wits.’
‘Is there another message to be decrypted?’
‘No, no, nothing like that,’ replied Willoughby. ‘As my secretary, you are needed this afternoon for an important task.’
‘May I enquire what the task is?’
‘You may. At two o’clock this afternoon, Sir George Ayscue with Colonels Drax and Modyford will present himself here to discuss and agree the terms of a truce. A condition of the meeting was that my principal secretary be released immediately so that he could record it properly.’
‘When Ayscue objected, I advised his lordship to throw you to the wolves,’ said Charles with a grin, ‘or should that be the sharks? Luckily for you, his lordship ignored my advice and pressed the point. Ayscue eventually decided that Tobias Rush would not get his way.’
‘And here you are,’ said Adam. ‘Mary will be pleased. I had sent word that you were a prisoner with little hope of escape.’
‘I thank you all, gentlemen. I am in your debt.’
‘You are in no one’s debt, Thomas Hill,’ replied Charles firmly. ‘You saved Mary’s life not once but twice, you decrypted a vital message and you managed to get word to us about the squadron. It is we who are in your debt.’
‘So Agatha found you. I doubted she would.’
‘She did, and, armed with the information that the squadron carried settlers, not reinforcements, we were able to persuade Ayscue to agree a truce. Clever of you to tell her to mention the Gibbes. I might not have believed her otherwise. And the message also told us where you were.’
‘I won’t ask how you managed to persuade her, Thomas,’ said Adam. ‘You can tell us later.’
‘So there’s been no fighting?’
‘None. The rain saw to that. It hasn’t stopped for six days. Any battle would have had to be a wrestling match and a muddy one at that. Then Agatha arrived.’
‘Enough of this, gentlemen,’ announced Willoughby. ‘Let us prepare ourselves for the meeting. The future of Barbados hangs on it.’
Of the seven men who sat down at the table in the governor’s study at two o’clock that afternoon, Colonels Drax and Modyford were seated either side of Admiral Sir George Ayscue, Charles Carrington and Adam Lyte opposite them and Thomas Hill beside Lord Willoughby, at the head of the table. Thomas was equipped with a stack of excellent rag paper, half a dozen sharp duck-feather quills and a pot of English oak-apple ink. It had been agreed that he would record the terms of the agreement, which would be enshrined in a ‘Charter of Barbados’.
With typical skill Willoughby proposed that they begin the meeting with each man making a brief personal statement. He knew that this would not only allow grievances to be aired and disposed of but would also encourage a spirit of cooperation, as views expressed in private are invariably moderated in public. Willoughby himself then made a fulsome speech thanking Sir George and his fellow officers for attending the meeting and expressing the fervent hope that agreement on all important issues might be reached. He concluded by saying, ‘It seems that our Lord did not wish a battle to take place on this island and sent us enough rain to ensure that it did not. Let us try our utmost to heed his wishes.’