Ayscue’s reply, although less eloquent, expressed a similar wish. A battle that had looked inevitable had been avoided. Let them try to reach an agreement. Drax spoke again of what he called his betrayal and insisted upon the immediate return of all his property. Modyford made an unconvincing attempt to justify his defection in the interests of peace. And Charles Carrington said that as they wanted to go home, they should reach a speedy agreement and do so.
Four hours later, they had. The Charter of Barbados, written out in Thomas’s neat hand, ensured for the island’s inhabitants freedom of religious belief and worship, the independence of their courts and Assembly, freedom of trade, the return of all lands and possessions to those unjustly deprived of them, indemnities for past deeds and actions and a ban on future sequestrations without due course of law. It also outlawed incitements to violence, guaranteed that no citizen would be expected to swear an oath of loyalty of any kind, recommended the restoration to Lord Willoughby of his estates in England, guaranteed the safe return of any man banished by previous governors, required the disbandment of all forces and the immediate release of all prisoners on both sides. Finally, it was agreed that the governor of Barbados would be appointed from time to time by the States of England, that the governor would be empowered to choose his Council and that the Assembly would continue to be elected by popular vote. It would be recommended that Sir George Ayscue would replace Lord Willoughby as governor.
By nine o’clock that evening, a final version had been agreed and signed by all those present. It had only to be ratified by Ayscue’s Council and Willoughby’s Assembly.
Their work done, Ayscue and his two advisers rose to leave. Willoughby and Thomas escorted them to the door and walked outside with them. Their guard stood smartly to attention. ‘Thank God that more bloodshed has been avoided,’ said Willoughby, ‘and just in time.’
‘Just in time?’
‘You haven’t noticed, Sir George? The rain has stopped.’
Admiral Sir George Ayscue, carrying the commission of Parliament to assume the governorship of Barbados, yawned. It had been a long day.
Lord Willoughby turned to Thomas. ‘Thomas, unless you would like to stay on as my principal secretary, Adam will arrange for the next available ship to take you to England.’
‘Your lordship’s offer is a generous one, but my family are in England.’
‘So be it,’ said Willoughby, extending his hand. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’
‘Just one thing. I would be grateful if you would give Sir George five sovereigns for the man Ned who looked after me on the Rainbow.’
As if he were quite accustomed to such requests, Lord Willoughby produced a leather purse from his pocket, counted out the sovereigns and handed them to Sir George Ayscue.
‘Thank you, your lordship,’ said Thomas. ‘I have two more matters to attend to and then I shall be ready to go home.’
Chapter 28
THE BRUTES’ GOLD first, then Rush. When he arrived at the track leading to the brutes’ hovel the next morning, Thomas dismounted and left his horse in the shade on the corner of the road. For a reason he could not explain he was nervous returning to this place, half expecting the brutes to jump out of the trees and set about him with their whips. Come now, Thomas, the brutes are gone, there’s no one here but you and it won’t take long to do what you’ve come for and be away. Taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders, he strode up the track.
But there was someone there. Tethered to the listening tree was a horse harnessed to a flat cart of the kind used for transporting barrels of sugar. Very cautiously he moved forward, alert to any movement or sound. Hearing a voice, he crept round the hovel, keeping within the cover of the trees. A shirtless man armed with a long-handled shovel was frantically digging at the privy. Thomas smiled. It was the new privy, not the old one where he suspected the gold was buried, and the man was covered in filth. Who the digger was he had no idea but he would not find the gold there.
When he glimpsed movement in the trees beyond, however, his smile disappeared. There was no mistaking the figure in black watching from the shade. And when he spoke, there was no mistaking his voice. ‘Get on with it, man. I’m not paying you to dig like an old woman. Bend your back or I’ll bend it for you.’ Tobias Rush had got there first.
Thomas could see that the filth-covered digger was exhausted and no threats from Rush were going to give him strength. He would soon have to rest.
‘I’ve dug out all the shit,’ the man grumbled, ‘and there’s nothing here. How deep do I have to go?’
‘As deep as I tell you,’ snarled Rush, ‘and be quick about it. I know it’s buried down there and I want to be away.’
The wretched man dug for another minute or so, then abruptly stopped. Leaning on his shovel and looking up at Rush, he cursed loudly. ‘That’s as far as I’m going. There’s nothing here. If you don’t believe me, dig it yourself. I’ll take my money and be gone.’
‘Money? You get no money from me, you idle pig. Dig or be damned.’
For a moment, the digger stared at Rush. Then he climbed slowly out of the hole. When he threw the shovel Thomas was just as surprised as Rush. It hit Rush in the face and knocked him to the ground. Rush dropped the silver-topped cane and, in a trice, the man was on him, his hands around his throat. Thomas did not move. There was a pistol shot and the man rolled off Rush. The flintlock must have been primed and hidden somewhere inside Rush’s cloak. The man lay still. Rush got to his feet, dusted himself down and picked up the shovel. He left the man where he lay, took off his cloak and climbed down into the hole.
Carefully keeping behind Rush, Thomas moved out of the shadows and crept towards the hole. Twice he thought Rush had heard him and was about to turn round, but he was too intent on his digging to notice anything. Thomas reached the cane and picked it up. He knew this cane well enough. He had another just like it at home in Romsey. Twisting the silver handle, he pulled out the narrow blade and tested the tip with his finger. Needle-sharp, just like its twin.
‘You won’t find anything there, Rush,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s the wrong privy.’ Rush stopped digging and turned slowly towards him. His head was little higher than Thomas’s knees.
‘Hill. So we meet again.’
‘Indeed we do. Now kindly drop the shovel. As you can see, I have luckily come across this swordstick lying on the gound. The blade is made of the finest Toledo steel, you know. Very sharp.’ Rush put down the shovel, his eyes never leaving Thomas.
‘And now what do you propose, Hill?’ asked Rush with a smirk. ‘If you kill me, you will never see your sister and her lovely daughters again.’
‘Is that so? Now that the truce has been signed, I will soon be on my way back to England. Lord Willoughby is arranging my passage. I shall find Margaret and the girls, whether you’re dead or alive.’
Rush snorted. ‘Not in England, you won’t. They’re here, hidden safely away and under guard. The guard has orders to kill them if I have not returned by tonight.’
‘I don’t believe you, Rush. Why would you bring them here and why would you tell me where they are?’
‘If I told you they were in England, I would be of no further use to you and you would kill me. As they are here, I will take you to them in return for my freedom. I brought them here because I thought they might like to see how you were faring with the Gibbes. It would have amused me to observe your nieces’ tears. The Gibbes may be dead but at least they’d told me where the gold would be.’