Corsair (52 page)

‘Sir Thomas Lynch is my uncle,’ he said unblushingly. Then, to increase the effect of the lie he added, ‘It was why I agreed with my companions that we sail for the Caribbean without delay. After we had brought Dan to the Miskito coast, I intended to find Sir Thomas.’

For an alarming moment Hector thought that he had gone too far, that he should have kept the lie simple. Coxon was eyeing him narrowly. ‘Sir Thomas is not in the Caribbees at this time. His estates are being managed by his family. You didn’t know?’

Hector recovered himself. ‘I was in Africa for some months and out of touch. I received little news from home.’

Coxon pursed his lips as he thought over Hector’s statement. Whatever Sir Thomas Lynch meant to the buccaneer, the young man could see that it was enough to make their captor reconsider his plans.

‘Then I will make sure that you are united with your family,’ the buccaneer said at last. ‘Your companions will stay aboard this ship while she is taken to Petit Guave, and I will send a note to the authorities there that they are associates of Sir Thomas’s nephew. It may stand in their favour. Meanwhile you can accompany me to Jamaica – I was already on my way there.’

Hector’s mind raced as he searched Coxon’s statement for clues as to the identity of his supposed uncle. Sir Thomas Lynch had estates on Jamaica, therefore he must be a man of substance. It was reasonable to guess that he was a wealthy planter, a man who had friends in government. The opulence and political power of the West Indian plantation owners was well known. Yet at the same time Hector sensed something disquieting in Coxon’s manner. There was a hint that whatever the buccaneer captain was proposing was not entirely to Hector’s advantage.

Belatedly it occurred to Hector that he should put in a good word for the Laptots, who had proved their worth on the trans-Atlantic voyage.

‘If anyone is to be put on trial in Petit Guave, Captain,’ he told Coxon, ‘it should not be either Benjamin here, nor his companion. They stayed with the ship even when their previous captain had died of fever. They are loyal men.’

Coxon had resumed his scratching. He was raking the back of his neck with his nails. ‘Mr Lynch, you need have no worries on that score,’ he said. ‘They will never be put on trial.’

‘What will happen to them?’

Coxon brought his hand away from his collar, inspected the fingernails for traces of whatever had been causing the irritation, and wriggled his shoulder slightly to relieve the pressure of the shirt on his skin.

‘As soon as they are brought to Petit Guave, they will be sold. You say they are loyal. That should make them excellent slaves.’

He looked straight at Hector as if to challenge the young man into raising an objection. ‘I believe your uncle employs more than sixty Africans on his own Jamaican plantations. I am sure he would approve.’

At a loss for words, Hector could only stare back, trying to gauge the buccaneer’s temper. What he saw discouraged hope. Captain Coxon’s eyes reminded him of a reptile. They protruded slightly and the expression in them was utterly pitiless. Despite the balmy sunshine, Hector felt a chill seeping deep within him. He must not allow himself to be deceived by the pleasantness of his surroundings, with the warm tropical breeze ruffling the brilliant sea and the soft murmuring sound of the two ships gently moving against one another, hull to hull. He and his companions had arrived where self-interest was sustained by cruelty and violence.