Quince’s voice: “Jack! Head down lad, they’re leaving… you all right? You’re pale as a topsail.”
The account of Paul and Brown meshed well. De Vries had approached Yatoo with a seemingly reasonable offer. They would forget his indiscretion in harboring murdering brigands who had attacked a peaceful merchant enterprise if Yatoo would aid in their undoing. If, in other words, Yatoo would betray the few whites living under his protection and facilitate their capture by the Dutch, they would not only forgive him but become his ally. In fact, they would help Yatoo subdue the neighboring islands that had long been trouble to him in exchange for their being allowed to keep the captives. He explained that they were indeed not slavers but merchants engaged in the securing of laborers. These laborers would eventually be able to buy their way to freedom after enjoying the many benefits of a rich plantation life. The Dutch had correctly deduced the nationality of the white men from the account of Papaloan warriors involved in the skirmish weeks earlier, plus another Papaloan’s description of the flag that the strangers flew over their makeshift camp at Star Islet. However, they didn’t seem to have knowledge of the shipwreck or that the islet was in fact a salvage camp for the Star; they apparently assumed the Americans were a group of renegades or stragglers let off by some vessel.
All Yatoo had to do was arrange a parley with the Yanks on the open beach near the village. The Peter Stuyvesant, the Dutch vessel, would anchor just offshore, a fortnight hence, and a delegation would land, unarmed, to speak with the Americans. The latter could bring their guns, and the Dutch, though without weapons, would have the assurance of safe conduct because of the presence of their armed vessel. They had checked the water depth on the way in to visit Yatoo and had determined that Belaur had an excellent harbor. They could anchor their ship much closer to the beach than at Papalo, allowing them to more easily take on trade goods.
Yatoo need not worry further about the recent unpleasantness. They would see to the American renegades. The chief of Belaur would not only be forgiven his involvement in the murder of two of their men, but be given ten Papaloan slaves as tribute.
The chief made a great show of thinking about the Dutch offer and finally assented—but only if the number of Papaloans was raised to fifteen and he was given two muskets with powder, shot, and anything needed to operate them. Brown later said he felt chills run down his spine when Yatoo so solemnly agreed. “I had to remind myself that we wouldn’t be hiding there if he really intended to double-cross us,” he told Jack.
It was immediately clear to the Americans what the Dutchman’s intent was: capturing them was the driving force of the visit, but with a dose of treachery they could also neutralize Yatoo. He was the only native chieftain that had the temerity and power to offer serious resistance. Crushing him would teach all the islanders in the archipelago a grim lesson.
Clearly, the Dutch were ignorant of the existence of the Star’s remains in accessible waters. They also didn’t seem to know how many Americans there were, or how well armed. Wisely, Yatoo had been of little help in that regard; he spoke of the Yankees as if they were a handful of survivors with a gun or two, and not much to be concerned about. At this point, Paul couldn’t resist an aside. “The distinction between what those blackbirders are doing and slavery must be a subtle one. I can’t grasp it at all.”
Several of the men murmured agreement, but Cheatum stirred restlessly.
“Might be. But they’re operating legal-like and your smart remarks will get choked off quick by a noose if we ever get in front of a magistrate—even in an American court. And these savages, they’d fare well by selling us out.”
“Cheatum.” The voice was Quince’s. “We’ve already voted on this and you still have time to back out. Don’t be such a damned fool—Yatoo didn’t fall for that prattle.”
“From what Brown said, Yatoo seemed ready to sell us all in an eye-blink,” Cheatum retorted. “Hell, he’s as ready to take Papaloan slaves as the pope is to accept Presbyterians.”
“Yatoo’s no saint, but he’s no fool either. Don’t you think it unusual he was so ready to betray us with our men listening in?”
“He could still be planning a double cross: that’s an awful strong force to take on out of loyalty to a bunch of stranded white-eyes.”
“No. If the thought ever entered his mind, it left during that talk. Yatoo was just confirming how much of a liar the Dutchman was. The chief knew the demands he was making were ridiculous—hell, the Dutch went overboard on their first offer. They’re figgerin’ him for an ignorant savage and he was wondering how far they’d go.” Quince lit his pipe. “Also, didn’t it strike you funny that he was having this kind of parley with the Dutch and he didn’t even have his warlord there?”
“What of it?” Cheatum was petulant, but from his inflection it was clear he was curious.
“Jawa was meeting with some Papaloan refugees when the Dutch’s guard was down and sizing up the prisoner pens—hell, he even got aboard their goddamn ship for a look-see, acting like a Papaloan coolie. I just got back from a meeting with him, and that’s what he told me.”
Jack smiled. The Dutch had seriously underestimated the shrewdness and boldness of the “savages” of Belaur.
“Anyway, quiet now and just listen, without yammerin’, to the whole events of the meeting best as Paul and Brown can remember, all of ye.” He looked pointedly at Paul and Cheatum. “Then we can think about it over dinner, and everybody will have their say at council.”
Paul finished relating the details of what they had overheard without further interruption.
As the Right Honourable Brotherhood settled back on a full stomach, Quince dispensed a ration of grog and told them all to lay off any further rum or sakau for the evening. Jack admired Quince’s instinct about such things. Instead of a babbling free-for-all, he had his men eat, gather their thoughts, and think before embarking on a disciplined discussion.
Mentor spoke first. Jack noted he had an odd way of waving his hands in front of himself before talking, as if making way for the impact of his own observations.
“Those slack-jawed, clay-pipe-smokin’ Dutch bastards. If they anchor in that cove off the village, all they need do is release their stern hook and the Stuyvesant would swing broadside to the parley. Then, when they was in range they’d snug off to the hook and they’d have a row of iron dogs pointed right at us.”
“Aye,” from Coop. “They wouldn’t need to have their men armed on the beach if they had a dozen cannon full of metal scrap pointed at us.”
Quince nodded. “That’s what they’re about, lads. I don’t know how they plan to get their own people out of the way, but they could sure sweep the beach clear of anything living from that range. Besides, they’d kill every native man, woman, and child and make that village look a pile of smoking palm trees. That would take care of us and be a lesson every village and tribe in the whole island chain wouldn’t have any trouble understanding.”
Jack listened carefully, but a corner of his mind was working feverishly. The Dutch perhaps had forty or fifty Europeans capable of using firearms and a ship that could deliver a withering broadside. The more he thought about it, the key seemed to be in surprise, in capitalizing on the enemy’s confidence and arrogance. Something was needed to spur them, make them act rashly, without thinking.
They had to get the Papaloans on their side. Jack remembered the look on that woman’s face in the clearing; there were probably many people from Papalo who would be willing to forget their differences with Yatoo. Indeed, that’s what Jawa must have had in mind, given the latest intelligence from Quince. He could not have gotten on board that ship without help from the Papaloans. And, damn, they had a fine ship. A three-master, a bit bigger than the Star. If only—