Read Online Galleon by Dudley Pope - Free Book Online

frigate hasn’t sailed yet!”
    Heffer coughed and took Ned’s arm. “There are several more people you should meet before the council starts its meeting,” he said hurriedly. “Please excuse us, Mr Fraser.”
    With two exceptions, the rest of the members echoed Fraser’s question about the Spaniards. The two exceptions were men who Ned remembered were planning to set up a business importing slaves. From the Main, he assumed: the Spanish asiento claimed the monopoly of slave trading from the Gulf of Guinea to the Main and the Indies. To bring in slaves, this pair would first have to buy them from Spanish traders. Then Ned remembered how he knew of the pair: for a long time they had been protesting to Heffer about the Brethren’s activities against Spain, complaining that the buccaneers were wrecking any chance of trade with the Main. At the time their protests had seemed ludicrous, but now, in the light of the news from England, they seemed sinister.
    Parry, he was one of the men, a Welshman. Who was his partner? Shaw, that was his name. Parry had wanted to arrange for Spaniards to make an official visit to Jamaica – even suggested, so Heffer said, that their leader should be given some sort of present, a piece of silver plate or something.
    Even the humourless Heffer had seen the irony of that, because any piece of silver plate given to the Dons must certainly have been captured from them in the first place. Although Port Royal boasted a silversmith (a very good one, as it happened) he was a wild man with a great hatred for the Spanish. Even now he was working on pieces of silver which were to designs that Aurelia and Diana had drawn for him, but anyone suggesting he did anything for a Spaniard (unless a buccaneer) was likely to get his throat cut, albeit with a silver knife.
    Heffer pulled an enormous watch from his fob pocket and clucked like a scrawny hen recalling strayed chicks.
    “Gentlemen, please be seated: the Governor will be here any moment.” He looked at Ned and Thomas, and pointed to the two chairs on the right side of the desk. “If you two gentlemen will sit there…”
    “Why?” Thomas demanded. “I like to face people.”
    “A matter of precedence,” Heffer said mischievously.
    Preceded by his secretary, William Hamilton, who marched with all the self-important strutting of an auctioneer and tapped the floor three times with his gold-topped cane, demanding silence, Sir Harold Luce walked into the room, bowing slightly as he held the scabbard of his ceremonial sword with all the wariness of a passing adult eyeing a playful child’s broomstick.
    “Forgot to put his face on,” Thomas muttered. The Governor’s expression fluttered between embarrassment, welcome and stern resolve.
    “Good evening, gentlemen, pray be seated.”
    Obviously he had carefully rehearsed the phrase because in fact no one had risen: only Heffer was standing, having turned as if to greet the Governor.
    “Ah, yes, well,” Sir Harold said, manoeuvring his sword scabbard so that he could sit down safely, “welcome, gentlemen. I am sorry I have not yet met each of you personally – with a few exceptions, of course – but I wish to send the minutes of our first executive council meeting to London in the Convertine , which is due to sail tomorrow. Now,” he said, his voice becoming brisker, “my secretary, Mr Hamilton, will give each of you a copy of the agenda for this first meeting of the council–”
    “I hope this isn’t a precedent,” Fraser said.
    “What isn’t a precedent, pray?” a puzzled Luce asked.
    “Giving us the agenda at the meeting. Doesn’t give us time to consider any of the items.”
    “No, quite,” Luce agreed warily, “but the Convertine …”
    Fraser looked at the sheet of paper which the secretary had just given him. “Aye, well, I should send down word to the captain of the Convertine that he won’t be sailing for a day or two – not judging from items three and four – aye,