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.''And yet.'‘Yet she now lives as my mistress.She mothered my son.I could not turn her away.Nor could I allow her to be married off to some layabout who'd beat her every dusk.''And Rebecca?"'Accepted the situation.''As you would have it so.And died'Tom turned.'You accuse me?''No,' Jefferson said.‘It is not my place, and if indeed your marriage was finished, it might have happened anyway.But Edward holds it so.That is why you do not punish his misdemeanours.Why you cannot.'Tom Warner's entire body seemed to sag.'Aye,' he said.‘I am the guilty one.There is none other.'There was a movement from the far end of the porch.Their heads turned in alarm, and Yarico glided up to where they sat in front of the doorway.Here she hesitated.'War-nah, go?" Her voice was soft.'Only for a season, sweetheart.I have been before.And come back.''With Re-becca,' Yarico said, and disappeared into the house.'By Christ.' Jefferson wiped his brow.'Do you think she was there all the time?’'Undoubtedly,' Mailing said.'Now she.I'd not offend the Governor.''Aye,' Tom said.There is a total heathen.She merely laughs when I try to speak to her on such matters.'‘I'd not have thought laughter was a part of her character,' Jefferson observed.‘It's there,' Tom said.'But what laughter.She laughs at death itself.''By Christ,' Jefferson said.'You're all afraid of her, Tom.' Tom glanced at him.'So might you be, if you knew her as I do.'O'Reilly played the flute and Connor danced.The pair were friends, and they were accomplished.The notes filled the night, gentle and haunting, and Connor, although he was a big man, revealed a remarkable lightness of foot as he pirouetted and leapt, crossed his legs and stretched them wide —without ever a stumble, although he had drunk as much as anyone.The others lay around the sand, clapping their hands, drinking and singing, laughing and telling interminable stories.Theirs was a closed world.No labourer was allowed inside Jarring's General Store, unless he carried a note from his master.And celebrations of this sort were seldom allowed.Nor would it go unpunished, should any man be too drunk to work, come sunrise.Yet with their national carelessness of the morrow they were able to enjoy themselves, even lacking female companionship.And with the enormous good nature which controlled even their hatred, they welcomed into their midst the Governor's son.Not that he shared their merriment.The more he drank the more silent and morose he became, staring into the flames which guttered in the night breeze, holding the bottle by the neck and scorning the cup, careless of slaps on the back or scattering sand across his legs.Like them he wore only breeches.Like them his body was a mass of hardened muscle.Only, unlike them, it was not scarred.No whip had ever fallen across his back, and there was not another man present who had avoided a session in the stocks or at the whipping post.'Yell share the bottle, Ted, lad.' O'Reilly sat beside him, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.' Tis thirsty work, ablowing on that flute.Christ, man, ye's the saddest sight I ever did see.''Leave the boy be,' Yeats said."Tis upset, he is.''Aye,' O'Reilly said.‘I've a mind ye once said ye'd not stay here a moment after the ships came, Edward, even if ye had to stow away.''You'd not understand, Paddy.I've changed my mind.''Well, 'tis to be hoped for sure ye know what ye're at,' O'Reilly said.'Tell us, Jimmy, boy.'Creevey scratched his head.He was reputed to be a trifle daft, and scarcely worth his while in the field.Thus he worked for Mr.Mailing, and swept out the church.' Twas examining the book, he was, your honour, and grumbling.''Who?' Edward asked.'Why, the Reverend, may God heap curses on his soul.''Now, there's an un-Christian thought,' O'Reilly pointed out.'Ye may be sure that the rascal is going to the fiery place in any event, as he is as protesting a dog as ever knelt before an altar.'‘I wish I could understand,' Edward said, 'why you hate Mr Mailing so much, for being a Protestant, and yet welcome me into your company.''Ah, but ye see, Ted, lad, ye're not a Protestant,' Connor said.'Ye're a heathen, so ye've still hopes of salvation.'' 'Tis this we're speaking about,' O'Reilly said.‘If ye'd let us get a word in.Go on, Jim.''Grumbling, he was,' Creevey said.'About non-attendance.Oh, 'tis a serious crime, non-attendance.I'll have to speak with the Governor, he was saying, even if it is his son.''Aye, non-attendance, 'tis a matter for the stocks,' Connor said.'He'll not put me in the stocks,' Edward said.‘I care not a fig for his laws.He made them, and he breaks them, as he chooses.Well, one day, the laws will be mine, to make or break as I choose.You'd not realized that, Paddy O'Reilly.''On the contrary, Ted, lad, I've had it much in me mind these last four years, or I doubt I'd have survived them.I doubt I'd wish to.But I'd thought to see ye in power before now.Creevey has a point.'Tis your non-attendance made the Governor put that dry stick Ashton in your proper place.'' Tis drinking with the likes of you, you mean,' Edward growled.'Man, we're all the comfort ye know.Here, let me get ye another bottle.''No,' Edward said.‘I’ll drink no more this night, or I'll have it all back.' He rose to his knees, uncertainly, the stars and the entire firmament whirling about his head.But he'd not drop before the Irishmen.With a tremendous effort he reached his feet, and staggered out of the circle of light, there to stand with legs spread, sucking great gulps of air into his lungs.A voice drifted to him, faintly on the breeze.'Now, that was right careless, Paddy boy,' someone said.'The lad is still a Warner, whatever his present discomforts.He's not to suppose we have a notion, save as he plants them there.'Paddy's protests were lost as the wind died, but Edward did not wish to hear any more.He forced his feet to move, and staggered up the sand towards the houses of the town, darkened now, as even the colonists had retired to their beds.Father would have retired as well.No longer a hammock for Father.A great big tent, wide enough to sleep four, but containing only two.What had Father taught her, about the art of lovemaking? What was he teaching her at this very moment? The Carib way was not really practical on a feather mattress.He knelt, staring up at the mass of Brimstone Hill.Mama looked down on the colony, and smiled.Or frowned.She had much to frown about, because being dead, her gaze would not be restricted by roof or wall, much less by coverlet.What rubbish.The dead were dead, and could only be remembered.Else was Mama too encumbered by those who would surround her, to gaze down at Sandy Point with bitter hatred in their hearts.More than a hundred of them, an oath of eternal friendship on their lips.But then, Mama had died with an oath of eternal faith and honour on her lips.If there was the price of success, of empire and fame and wealth, it was surely a great deal too dear.He wondered he felt noresentment, no hatred this night The announcement had been made from the steps of the church, to the assembled populace, and more than a hundred heads had turned, to stare at the Governor's heir, excluded from his rightful post And yet, this night, he felt only regret, and sadness.The hatred would come later, with his hangover.Another voice, wailing through the night.A dream voice, come from the heights of Brimstone Hill [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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