The Seige Of Dragonard Hill Part 14

Claudia Goss's direct question made Jerome Poliguet sit upright in the chair across the table from her. He had ridden to Grouse Hollow from Greenleaf before he caught the coach in Carterville to New Orleans. He had come to report on the progress of his work and did not expect her to inquire about his private life.

He answered, 'I was merely telling you the talk among the patrollers in Troy. How they say that the Abdee girl, Victoria, found pleasure with one of them alongside the public road.'

'Victoria? She's the one you found attractive.'

Poliguet could not deny to himself that he had once found Vicky to be very attractive, but that had been when he interpreted her authoritative social presence as being a hint as to how she would conduct herself in love-making. Now knowing that she liked to be subjugated, even abused by her lovers, Poliguet knew that they would never enjoy a s.e.xual encounter. They both looked for domination. Poliguet saw no reason, though, to inform the slatternly woman, Claudia Goss, of his s.e.xual preferences. They were allied in matters of business. He preferred to keep their relationship within those boundaries.

Ciaudia remained sitting by the table long after Poliguet had departed from Grouse Hollow to catch the coach in Carterville. She thought about his report of Abdee's coldness to him, about Barry Breslin's response to the mention of Mexico, about Lloy being called to Dragonard Hill to become overseer-facts all gleaned by Poliguet from Dragonard Hill or today at Greenleaf.

That was one development which even she and Poliguet I7I.

had not foreseen. That Peter Abdee would contact Lloy. They had planned to utilize LJoy themselves if-when- they acquired Greenleaf from Barry Breslin. The fact that Peter Abdee had offered Lloy a position on Dragonard Hill even gave them cause to consider a new overseer for Green-leaf once Claudia bought the outstanding notes from the bank.

It was not these matters which intrigued Claudia, though, as she sat alone in her cabin in Grouse Hollow. She was still obsessed with the thought-What does that Creole dandy like to do in bed? She considered this matter to be important not only as sheer curiosity. She believed that a knowledge of someone's s.e.xual preferences could prove to be highly advantageous in dealing with them in business. She foresaw herself and Poliguet working closely together in the near future as they closed in around Dragonard Hill. Greenleaf was only the beginning. 'Darnnit! What does he like doing in bed?' Claudia had long-ago replaced her own s.e.xual appet.i.te with a hunger for gold. And it was in that greed for increased riches that she now puzzled over Poliguet's well-guarded s.e.xual pastimes. She had known him for four years and his private life was still a mystery to her.

Chapter Fourteen.

'MEDITERRANEAN OF THE AMERICAS'.

The Gulf of Mexico bordered the southern coast and delta of Louisiana and the land which was, in I836, called the Territory of Florida. Beyond the Gulf of Mexico, south from the boot of Florida, lay the Caribbean, the warm bay which early Spanish settlers had called the 'Mediterranean of the Americas*.

At the beginning of the nineteenth Century, Mexico was dependant upon Cuba for military protection. Havana was strong but Spain did not worry about internal struggles amongst the white population of Cuba because there was such a vast majority of black slaves to free whites: Cuba still looked to her mother country for protection.

It was the whites' fear of the large black populace in Cuba which also kept America from making encroachments on the riches of that island. Thus, it was only in matters of commerce which allied Cuba with the North American states, territories, and colonies.

Despite the black majority in Cuba, the slave dealers constantly increased the number of slaves which they imported in shackles from Africa, continuing the trade long after the North American people imposed laws that no new black slaves be brought to their colonies, states, or territories.

Compet.i.tion between Cuban slave dealers was keen; they seldom spoke to one another and often employed pri- I73.

vateers to seize the compet.i.tor's cargoes of slaves in the Trans-Atlantic Pa.s.sage. But there were other times, such as controlling prices, when the slave merchants saw it to their advantage to meet. They also chose to communicate for personal reasons, and it was for a personal reason that Conde Juan Carlos Veradaga, a slave dealer as well as sugar planter, sent a messenger to Richard Abdee on the Calle de Esclavos, an invitation to meet the Englishman in private, on a common ground for a meeting involving both their personal lives. Veradaga suggested a curtained public carriage encircling the Plaza des Armas for their meeting.

Richard Abdee suspected that the reason for Veradaga's invitation for a meeting involved the infant, Juanito, whom Abdee had bribed the black woman, Malou, to bring to his slave house on the Calle de Esclavos. Abdee was in fact surprised that Veradaga had not contacted him before now regarding that matter, even sending him a challenge to a duel. Although having never met Veradaga, Abdee knew not only that he was crippled but also that Veradaga was a proud aristocrat and an infirmity would not prevent such a man from defending his honra-a Spanish pride which included vengeance against having his son kidnapped, if only for a few hours from the family home. Veradaga could well appoint a man to represent him in a duel against ageing Abdee. Age nor infirmities mattered when honra was involved.

Vera,daga's calm composure surprised Abdee. The crippled aristocrat sat crouched in one corner of the heavily curtained carriage with a vicuna blanket covering his withered legs. He nodded for Abdee to sit across from him, saying, "We should have met before now, Senor Abdee. I knew your former partner in business, Don Ignatio Soto.'

Abdee did not wish to discuss Ignatio Soto, not even after the twelve years since his death. Soto had rescued him from a slave station in the Leeward Islands-Castelo Novo Mundo-and brought him here to Havana as his partner in his slave house. But Soto's terms of partnership had been so mean, so exacting, that it had taken Abdee many years to achieve, first, an equal footing as a partner and, I74.

then, complete control of Soto's business. Abdee ignored the rumours in the city that he had cast his own lot with Moroccan pirates, blacks, and a wh.o.r.e from Tangier to achieve not only control of Soto's business but cause his death as well.

He answered over the sound of the coach rumbling around Havana's main square. I had feared that my blood ties to your wife would have brought us together before this/ 'No. I knew if you wanted to make yourself known to my wife that you would have. But you English are cold and do not respect families like the Spanish. I did not wish to force you in that matter. You turned your back on your wife, then your son now living in Louisiana. Why should I expect you to open your arms to a mere . . . granddaughter?' Veradaga smiled, his head bobbing against his ruffled shirt as the coach kept its rhythm.

'You know much about me,' Abdee said.

'I know that many men in Havana say that you have no principles.'

'And I know men who say that you have too d.a.m.ned many!' Abdee answered, looking at the n.o.bleman sitting across from him but seeing little more than his pointed goatee and darkened skin circling his eyes.

Veradaga smiled. He nodded his head, asking, "Verdad ? Too honourable? I wish that were true! Perhaps it is. That is not far from the reason why I have asked for this meeting. I do not intend to bring you close to a family which holds no interest for you. But, at the same, my wife is of your line and I am asking you to help me solve the problem of her first husband.'

'She was married before you?'

'To what Americans call a "Yankee", a Northerner, and a man whom the English call a "bounder"-a man with loose ways, a man who lives on his wit, charm, appeal to the ladies. An adventurer who abandoned your granddaughter in New Orleans shortly before I met her. She spoke little about him. His name is Duncan Webb. The last time I heard of him he had contracted a venereal disease but-despite that affliction-he found a male admirer by the name of Hiram Heyward who took him to the colony of Australia.'

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Abdee shook his head. He had lived in Havana long enough to know the slang for many words. One was for perverts and he said, 'Maricon! Who'd think a granddaughter of mine would make such a mistake?'

I do not find it advantageous to worry about mistakes. I think only about the future. This Duncan Webb has come to Havana. He is making threats to contest the annulment I received for Victoria's marriage to him. It was a mere civil ceremony not recognized by the Holy Catholic Church. I would ignore his threats but for the scandal^they might cause for my young son. The slightest gossip now could prevent a good match for Juanito in the future when he is a fine young man.'

'You plan well in the future, Veradaga."

'Again I am not asking you to understand Spanish ways. I am only asking you to-'

'Eliminate Duncan Webb.'

Veradaga nodded.

'Why do you think I could do it? I am not a young man.'

I do not ask you to do it personally. I know you have men in your pay. I have counted many business losses to know that fact.'

'You want no part of this murder. You want to keep your son unsullied for marriage.'

Again, Veradaga nodded. He said, I thought that because you dislike families so much you might also . . . enjoy doing away with at least one of your sons-in-law.'

'You say this maricon is a rascal.' Abdee rubbed his jaw which was still strong, still well-formed in his late years. He said, "I have always liked bounders and rascals. Even the perverts of the lot.'

'On a grand level, si! But not a petty blackmailer. A man who wants no more than a handful of pesos to buy a few suits of clothing or a small volanta to drive around the square!'

'He asks for so little?'

'Yes. I would pay it. But you see he would quickly become a nuisance. He would talk. He would brag. I think-'

Abdee interrupted, saying, 'I think I'm beginning to understand Spanish honour, Veradaga. Worry about sons making a good match in the eyes of the Church and society I76.

but ask someone else to do your murdering in the back streets.'

'Ah, Senor Abdee. But a murder of which you'll approve.

He's only a petty thief. A troublesome little rat. I have learned much from the English, too. To steal is honourable as long as you do it well. You talk to me about the Church.

There are Spaniards who steal from the Church. But not the English! The English never steal from the Church. They steal the whole church!' His eyes twinkling, Veradaga leaned forward and said, 'Your king Henry the Eighth, verdad ?'

Til do it,' Abdee said, smiling. 'But you must do me a favour in return.'

Veradaga showed no concern. He peered out the edge of the carriage curtain, saying, 'You tell me.'

Abdee said, 'Do not let your wife come back to Havana. She will seek me out for my curiosity to see my great-grandson. I do not want to meet the woman.'

Veradaga raised his hand. 'That matter. Do not mention that you wanted to see at least one of your heirs. It is the single flaw that showed me you are human-the one reason I knew I might trust you. And as for my wife returning to Cuba-' Veradaga shook his head, saying, 'Nunca . . . never. She gave birth to my son but she is not a decent mother. The child will fare better in the world without a mother like that influencing him. Given the choice of having Victoria returning to Cuba or Juanito growing into a respectable man, I chose a brilliant future for my son. Senor Abdee, I have already decided that your grand-daughter will never return to Havana. You do not have to fear that.'

The cantina was crowded. The man in the honey-coloured suit stood by the bar, holding one arm around a Cuban girl whose black hair fell in ringlets to her shoulders. But whilst cuddling the girl, he eyed an older man sitting alone at a table. The Cuban girl tempted the young American in the honey-coloured suit but he saw the man at the table moving his hands inside the pockets of an expensively tailored suit of clothing. The old man was smiling at him, too. Duncan Webb knew it for certain now.

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Dropping his arm from the girl's bare shoulder, Duncan reached toward his breeches, fondling himself to show the old man that he was built equally strong. He saw the old man at the table smile again, then push back his chair. Instead of walking toward Duncan Webb, though, the old man moved toward the door of the cantina and disappeared out into the street.

Duncan Webb planned to rise early tomorrow morning and try again at Palacio Veradaga to see Vicky's husband. He would put the pinch again on old Veradaga for some money. But he thought how nice it would be to have a little extra money tonight. He did not even know if Veradaga would pay. And he could tell by the old man's clothing and gold watch chain that he was a rich Cuban, that he would pay for whatever he wanted Duncan to do to him.

The night was warm. The street full of people. Duncan stood outside the cantina and looked up and down the cobbled street for the old man in the white suit. He finally saw him standing in the door to a courtyard. He saw his hand again digging on his groin.

If he thinks I'm going to suck him, he'll have a surprise, Duncan thought as he moved slowly toward the doorway. Let the old pervert suck me. And I'll make him pay first, by G.o.d!

The old man spoke, 'Good evening.'

'You are American?'

'English. Why don't you step back a little bit out of the street. I am well known here.'

Duncan smiled. How many times before had he heard that story! I am well known here! And how many times he had given thrills to rich old perverts who haunted waterfront bars but did not want to be seen groping p.e.c.k.e.rs in the back street!

He obediently moved further into the dark courtyard, saying, 'I have just arrived in Havana. I would not normally say this but my baggage has been lost. And I must-'

'I understand,' said the old Englishman with twinkling blue eyes. 'I will reward you."

Duncan proceeded, 'You are a gentleman like myself. And whilst we are speaking as gentlemen let me say that although I see what you. . . exhibit so interestingly inside I78.

your pants I have something so much better that-' Duncan pushed his groin forward.

The old man did not lower his eyes, only saying, 'I also understand what you'd like to do with . . . that.'

Duncan shrugged, 'That is why you smiled at me, isn't it? You knew what you would be getting,' 'I knew. I knew when I looked at you-' 'I tell you, you will not be disappointed,' Duncan bragged, reaching again for his crotch.

'Nor will you be disappointed . . . Mister Webb.' Duncan stared at him. 'How do you know my name?' The old Englishman did not reply. He moved further back into the dark courtyard as two men emerged from the shadows behind Duncan Webb; one man reached to grab Duncan's hands, the other pointed a long, thin blade toward his throat.

Richard Abdee warned, 'Do not struggle, Mister Webb. You are coming to my house. It is near here in the district called Regla.'

A carriage rumbled in front of the door to the courtyard. Abdee nodded to the two men to move Duncan Webb toward the carriage.

Pitch torches smouldered in the damp room deep below Richard Abdee's slave house in Regla. Duncan Webb had been stripped of his clothing, his mouth had been gagged, and his arms spread over his head, the wrist of each hand tied to iron rings embedded deep into the stone walls. Abdee stood a short distance behind him, holding the b.u.t.t of an oily black whip in one hand, studying the nakedness of Webb's tapering back. He said, 'You will excuse the cloth around your mouth, Mister Webb, but I have learned that fine gentlemen such as yourself often lose all self-respect during punishment.'

Duncan Webb's hands twisted in the iron rings; the muscles in his back contorted as he squirmed.

Letting the splayed tip of the leather whip fall to the floor, Abdee said, 'If you are wise, Mister Webb, you will not move. The chest and stomach are tender areas. Your I79.

movement will allow my whip only to wrap around you when I strike.'

Abdee wore boots, trousers, and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He positioned his feet on the floor a short distance behind Webb, his face fixed with a half smile. He appeared to be enjoying himself for the first time in many years.

A loud crack of the whip echoed in the stone room. Abdee lowered his arm and saw Webb's body Sock with tension.

'Don't be such a coward . . . maricon. I didn't even touch you. I was just trying my whip. It's been a long time since I've used this one. But it's no ordinary whip I'm using on you. This whip has a forked tongue. Like a dragon. You are special so you get the-'

The whip snapped in the room again, the splayed tip catching against Webb's back. Abdee's strike was perfect; he had caught Webb directly between the shoulder blades. He lashed a second time, striping Webb a short distance beneath his first target. He repositioned his feet, saying, 'I hear that you enjoy debasing people, maricon. I might as well have a little enjoyment with you. I shall start by making a ladder of red stripes down your back, like this ..." He struck again, and then quickly again, proceeding to lower each hit down Webb's back.

Abdee's blue eyes soon dulled as he lost himself in the act of inflicting punishment on Duncan Webb. He no longer noticed that Webb was refraining from struggling, that all the stamina had disappeared from the young man's body. Nor did Abdee count the number of his lashes; the long, tapering black whip struck out again and again in the torchlit room; Richard Abdee stood steadfast in his position; he twisted with the agility of a much younger man as he performed his part of the bargain which he had made with Conde Juan Carlos Veradaga. But not thinking of this as fulfilling an agreement, Abdee even had forgotten that Duncan Webb possessed a name, or had once been married to his grand-daughter. Abdee increased the force of his whipping as he remembered back to the days of being the 'Dragonard' on St Kitts. He had never thought of a person's name-nor the colour of their skin-in those days. Nor did he now. He enjoyed the power which a whip gave him over I80.

another human life. This excitement was increased by the fact that he could whip this particular man until he was dead. Abdee continued to keep his strokes neat, though, maintaining a uniform pattern of striping the flesh on Dun-can Webb's back, of moving up and down the ladder of bleeding welts until Webb was no more than a dehumanized, lifeless hunk of flesh hanging from two iron rings embedded deep into the stone walls. And Richard Abdee was once again the Dragonard.I8I.

Book Three

THE REAPERS.

Chapter Fifteen.

A NEW BUCK.

Croney laughingly informed Lloy how she had never received so many offers from the young girls in Town to help her in the chicken coop since he had come to live in her tall-legged huuse. She a.s.sured him and the other four black people sitting tonight around the firegrate in the middle of the floor, 'And I ain't going to tell none of them eager gals that this young buck here ain't mine to be setting-up with a wife! No, you bet not! You think I'm crazy? Let them young things keep helping me with my work Let them think I'm going to put in a good word for them with this Lloy here.' Croney threw back her head and laughed, patting Lloy on the knee.

Lloy had learned much about black people in the week he had been at Dragonard Hill. He had seen the natural warmth and friendship amongst the people at Treetop House. But he also saw a similar conviviality here in the slave quarter at Dragonard Hill. Regardless of how hard the slaves worked during the day, despite the few comforts they had in their lives, Lloy found that black people understood one thing-they enjoyed friendship. They relied on companionship. He saw as much chanty and hospitality here in Croney's meagre board hut in Town as he did around the table in the Refectory at Treetop House where the black people were all free and working for themselves.

The job of overseer was a challenge to Lloy He caught glimpses of resentment in the eyes of male blacks who had I85.

lived here all their lives-older men, men his same age, young boys. They all resented an outsider coming onto the plantation and giving orders to them.

Recognizing this jealousy as part of any human's nature, Lloy forced himself to show every consideration to the workers but yet maintain the authority with which Peter Abdee had entrusted him. He knew he was the link between the black people in Town and the white owner in the main house.

Lloy had seen little of the life in the main house. He knew that Peter Abdee had recently lost his wife, and that two of his daughters had come back to the plantation to visit him. One of the daughters was named Victoria-'Miss Vicky' to the slaves. The other daughter was 'Miss Veronica'. Lloy had not seen either of those two girls. But he had heard the stories about Veronica being married to a black man. Croney had told Lloy how Peter Abdee had freed Royal and, after securing him a job in a Boston bank, he allowed his daughter to marry him. This fact intrigued Lloy more than the gossip circulating in Town about Vicky, rumours speaking that she was a s.l.u.t and the bane of her family. Lloy preferred to hear about Veronica-. He wanted to learn as much about her and Royal as he possibly could. Lloy also had his plans.

The third Abdee daughter, Imogen, still remained an enigma to Lloy. The black slaves never spoke about their former overseer to him. Lloy gleaned a few details about Imogen-her rough manners, the fact that she lived in the old house-but he could not understand yet why Peter Abdee had relieved her of the position of overseer. The slaves did not talk to him about the matter. Lloy had ridden by the old house but had seen no sign of life, no smoke even curling from the chimney, not even sight of the black girl who supposedly lived with her. He was preparing himself for a meeting with Imogen.

The basic structure of obedience on a large plantation increasingly fascinated Lloy. He had never before realized how the house slaves felt themselves to be-and often treated as if they were-superior to the field slaves. True, he heard the black people in Town giggling about the head cook, Posey, but Lloy had seen them nod politely when Posey made an appearance in a shed or the vegetable gar- I86.

den. They did respect Posey. They did envy the house-servants. Lloy wished he could at least alter this feeling of inadequacy in the field slaves, to show them that their work was not ign.o.ble, that to till land was in the age-old tradition of African people.