“Dey only two in de car,” said the man nearest to him.
This was one of the few who wore presentable shirts and trousers and shoes, and in addition he had on a bandolier and a military-style peaked cap with the insigne of a gold crown fastened above the brim. Instead of a machete, he carried a large cardboard mailing tube like a staff of office.
“You didn’t expect a platoon of soldiers, did you?” Cuffee said scornfully. “It’ll be a long time before they dare to go that far.”
He himself was dressed in riding breeches and boots, a khaki shirt with brass buttons, a Sam Browne belt, and a sun helmet painted gold and topped with a red plume. He felt slightly ridiculous in the costume, but it was traditional for the Maroon chieftain to wear some imaginative uniform, and the inspirational effect on at least a majority of his disciples was too valuable to ignore. The pistol in the holster on his hip, however, was strictly practical and it was loaded.
The road went only as far as the gate of the settlement, and there the jeep stopped. The two men who climbed out did not look very formidable, and Cuffee could feel the rising confidence of his bodyguard as they got a closer look at them. The round-faced one with the pipe, although sturdy, was quite short, and his tall companion in the rainbow-patterned shirt was obviously a tourist. They were certainly unarmed, and even Farnham did not look at all official.
“Hullo there,” the short one called out as they approached. “May we come in?”
Cuffee stood with his thumbs hooked in his belt, aware that his ragamuffin elite guard was watching him and that much depended on his first showing.
“You’re Farnham, I believe,” he said.
“That’s right,” Farnham said, ignoring the insolent tone of the address and returning the form of it with imperturbable good humor. “And I suppose you’re Cuffee.”
“I’m Colonel Cuffee,” was the cold reply.
In commemoration of the warrior prowess of their founding fathers, the Maroon leaders have always graded themselves by military titles, and their supreme head is “The Colonel.” Farnham received the implied confirmation of his fears with hardly a flicker of his eyebrows.
“I’d heard rumors to that effect,” he said. “Congratulations. Well, may we still come in?”
“Are you here on Government business?”
“Just a friendly visitor,” Farnham said cheerfully. “Mr Templar here is my guest on the island, and I thought he ought to have a look at the Cockpit.”
“We don’t want to be gaped at by tourists,” Cuffee said. “And for that matter, we don’t want any more uninvited visitors. There have been too many violations of our Treaty rights, and now that I’m Colonel I’m putting a stop to it.”
Farnham sucked his pipe.
“Well, if that’s the way you want it,” he said equably. “I’ll have to make it formal.”
He took an envelope from his pocket and offered it across the gate. Cuffee almost put out a hand to accept it, but checked himself in time and gave a sign to his chief subordinate. The young man in the peaked cap and bandolier stepped forward and took the envelope.
“Read it aloud, Major,” Cuffee said.
The letter said:
Be it known to all men by these Presents:
As Governor of Jamaica, and by virtue of the powers conferred upon me by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, I hereby appoint David Farnham, Esquire, my personal representative, with full authority to represent me in all matters concerning the Maroons.
Given under the Royal Seal, at Government House.
“It doesn’t mean much,” Farnham had confided to the Saint, on the way up, “and His Excellency knows it, but it may help a bit.”
The young Major read it, haltingly and with a strong native accent, with the result that some sense was clear both to the ragged men with machetes and to the Oxford-accented Colonel Cuffee.
Mr Cuffee felt reasonably confident that he could make mincemeat of any such credentials in a court of law, but he saw a pretext on which to keep face with his followers and satisfy his curiosity at the same time.
“On that basis, the free and independent Maroons will receive the Ambassador of Her Britannic Majesty — and his friend,” he said. “Let them in.”
Farnham ambled through the gate as it opened, looking about him with benevolent interest.
“You seem to be quite mobilized,” he observed guilelessly. “I hope you aren’t expecting any trouble.”
“What makes you think that?” Cuffee demanded.
“I don’t see any women and kids around. And the Maroons aren’t usually armed.”
“They’ve always carried machetes, Farnham. You know that perfectly well. It’s just like a stockbroker with his umbrella.”
“I was referring,” Farnham said, “to your gun.”
Cuffee’s right hand touched the holster at his waist, and he laughed.
“This? Just a part of the costume. I think a sword would look better, but I couldn’t find a good one on short notice.”
They walked some distance up a steep rutted trail, with houses multiplying around them. A few of these could have been classed as very modest frame cottages with tarpaper roofs, more were box-like unpainted wooden huts, and many could only be called tumbledown thatch-topped shacks. From several dark open doorways, women and children and some men looked out, but none came out or moved to join the cortege. Walking beside Farnham, as the Major walked on the far side of Cuffee, Simon could sense the unnatural tension and watchfulness that surrounded them like a dark cloud.
Presently they reached a broad grassy clearing with the habitations set back to its perimeter, which gave it something of the air of a parade ground. There Cuffee raised his hand in an imperious gesture to halt their straggling escort, and the four of them moved on a few steps and stopped again.
“All right, Farnham,” Cuffee said bluntly. “What’s really on your mind?”
“Well,” Farnham said mildly, “the Governor thinks he should be officially informed about who is the responsible head of the Maroons.”
“You know now. I’m the Colonel.”
“But quite recently, we heard, they elected another Colonel. What happened to him?”
“He’s gone. As soon as the community Treasury was turned over to him, he took off and hasn’t been seen since.”
“Dear me,” Farnham said. “And nobody knows where he went?”
Cuffee shrugged.
“I don’t think anyone cares very much now. The money was only a few pounds, as you can imagine, and he’s probably spent it by this time. The man himself was obviously unfit for office, and we’re well rid of him. There was another election, and I was elected.”
“You must have made an impression very quickly,” Farnham remarked. “You haven’t been here long, have you?”
“I was born here. And in case you don’t recognize my name, I happen to be a direct descendant of one of the first Maroon leaders, Captain Cuffee. His name is on the Treaty which still protects us.”
“I know. But you’re really almost a Londoner.”
“It may have taken me a long time to see my duty, Farnham. But I know it now. Whatever talents I have, I inherited from my people. And the education I’ve gained should be used in their service.”
“That’s very commendable, of course.”
“It’s going to make a great difference, I assure you. Your Government has had everything its own way for too long. I know the policy. Keep what your Empire poet called the ‘lesser breeds’ in their place. Keep them downtrodden and half starved, so that they can be exploited. Keep them ignorant, so that they can be bamboozled and put upon. But you couldn’t get away with it for ever. You’re going to find that this is just one more place where they’ve got a leader at last who knows all the tricks and all the rules too. I’m going to see that every right and privilege of the Maroons is respected, in court and out of it.”