Free Buccaneer by Dudley Pope Page B

clothes on her back.
    Yet Wilson apart, the enemies were not only in Barbados, they were in England, too, and among the men sailing out with Penn and Venables. Enemies…in his childhood “enemies” had always meant the French or the Spanish. “Enemies” fought great wars against you, fierce battles like Agincourt and Crecy, or they launched armadas against England. “Enemies” had never, until 1642, meant your own people. He knew of cases, after that date, of a son fighting on the opposite side to his father, of brother fighting brother…
    Saxby had the lantern alight and was mustering everyone aft so that he could begin reading out the new muster roll of the Griffin . What flag should she fly? Damnation, she’s English, Yorke said to himself; she is English, built in Rye, and my family were English and living under that flag for generations before these damned Puritans seized the country.
    Yet out here among the Caribbee islands, the enemy was as much Spain as anyone else; in fact more so than anyone else. For the moment the Dutch were still the Dutch, and Cromwell’s war against them in Europe was over. Once again the Dutch were traders who bought and sold anything, whose ships appeared among ports and bays of the islands like waterboatmen on a village pond. The French for the moment were friendly, and providing a refuge for the exiled Prince.
    But Spain…she was the enemy and had been since the first foreigner had dared to sail “across the Line” after Columbus into the Caribbean.
    Two hundred years ago under the pressure from the King of Spain, the Pope had proclaimed a bull giving everything beyond a certain longitude west of the Azores to Spain, and since then Spain had tried to ensure that no one crossed the line without her permission. Of course, that meant no one was to sail or trade, let alone settle on any island in the Caribbean Sea or along the coast of the Main, and if they tried and were caught, they suffered the same fate as Sir John Hawkins’ men at San Juan de Ulua. If the Spanish mayor did not lock you in his jail for the rest of your life, using you to pound rocks for building fortresses and breakwaters, or dig salt from the salt mines, the Inquisition took you for a non-believer and killed you to save your soul, a price that Protestants begrudged paying.
    Well, two centuries had seen some changes. Some, but not enough. Most of the eastern islands were now settled by the English, Dutch or French, but the Spaniards had the rest of the chain – Puerto Rico, Hispaniola and Cuba, and of course all of the northern mainland coast as far as Mexico. For all that, any foreigner caught today by the Spaniards knew that at best he would be sent to the salt mines (from which there was a slight chance of escape) but at worst would be handed over to the priests. Yet it was along the Main that bold smugglers could make fortunes.
    The reason was simple enough: the Spaniards kept out foreign ships and forbade any trading, but could not themselves supply their own people with what they needed – which was almost everything from olive oil and wine to cooking pots and bodkins. So the Dutch, French and British traders smuggled in the goods, landing in deserted bays or (quite often) sailing into some out-of-the-way port after bribing the mayor and customs officer to go away for a few days’ hunting.
    He saw Saxby put the lantern down on deck, fold up a piece of paper and, after clearing the Griffin ’s bulwarks in a leap as graceful as an ox escaping from a pen, walk along the jetty to report.
    “Forty-six men and women from Kingsnorth ready and anxious to sail, sir, plus Mr and Mrs Bullock, and you and – er…”
    “And Mrs Wilson.”
    “…Er, yes sir, and Mrs Wilson.”
    “Very well, get ready to cast off, Saxby, and let’s begin our new adventure!”
    “Yes, sir. Had you a…well, a particular destination in mind?”
    “No. I suggest we start off by exploring the northern islands. That will also