Captain Hale's Covenant by Thomas E. Crocker

Author:Thomas E. Crocker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: McBooks Press
Published: 2022-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

22

Mrs. Campbell’s Lapdog

1802—Part I

Jezreel never questioned Gabrielle about her ownership of slaves. Although he made three voyages annually to Jamaica to fetch molasses for the insatiable American rum market and to barter goods, and each time lingered in her company as long as he could, he sensed that it was a topic better not broached. He knew it would only lead to disagreement. He understood that she was a widow and an astute businesswoman and that she had not chosen her lot—or perhaps she had? Still, she enveloped him each time on his return to the island, and he fell anew under her, and its, spell. But the topic was a many-headed beast, and it would not lie still.

Or so it seemed to Jezreel as he accompanied Gabrielle and Major Gaskill to a reception in late March at Government House in the garrison at Fort George that bestrode the point jutting into the sea at Port Antonio. Built by the same architect who designed the Royal Citadel at Plymouth, England, it was in fact a small reproduction of its parental model. Constructed of granite and boasting ten-foot-thick walls and twenty-two naval cannon, it warned off invaders and Maroons alike. Huddled within the fortification, but trying to present a festive spirit, were all the planters of the north shore of the colony, the military brass, and the senior government officials, up to and including the Governor who was up from the capital at Spanish Town.

They were, to a person, on edge.

“This virus will spread, I fear,” the Governor warned. “First it was the revolt on Saint Domingue. And all the slitting of white throats by that Louverture chap. Encouraged of course by the Jacobins in Paris.”

“Aye, it’s coming here,” Major Gaskill agreed. “I see it in their eyes. The way they look at you. The way they move. There’s insolence in the air.”

“That’s why you are still here, Major,” the Governor confirmed. “The garrison has become permanent and it must be augmented.”

“Unless . . .” Gabrielle spoke up. “Unless First Consul Bonaparte retakes Saint Domingue. I understand he has sent a force of over twenty thousand men under General Le Clerc to crush the revolt and retake the island.”

“Well, I suppose we all wish ’im well,” the Governor replied. “Here’s to First Consul Bonaparte!” he said as he raised his glass.

“To Bonaparte! To Bonaparte!” all in the room responded as they lifted their glasses, even while their faces betrayed their prolonged anxiety.

All except for Jezreel, who stopped to ponder the puzzling equation of “my enemy’s enemy is my friend.”

The cold eye of the Governor noticed and stared at him. Major Gaskill immediately picked up on it and moved in for the kill.

“So why doesn’t Mrs. Campbell’s lapdog drink with our Governor?”

Jezreel bristled. His face grew flushed as he struggled for words.

“Because . . . because I don’t . . . I don’t agree,” he stammered.

All the room now stared in silence.

Gabrielle moved toward him and took his arm in her bare one, whispering sotto voce, “Dearest Jezreel, not now.

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