Easton Read Free Page B

slow creak of a mast somewhere above the cabin.
    Easton stares off into space, tasting the wine and closing his eyes for a second. “From a French captain,” he answers with slow deliberation. “He was commander of a large and well-armed frigate.”
    There is another creak, this time from below.
    “He saw immediately that it was futile to deny or annoy me.” Easton takes another sip of wine. The boards groan again through the silence. “But then he was a man of some experience.”
    Dawson has felt the sting, Richard sees. His cheek has turned pink and for once he is not searching for a riposte.
    There is a rap at the cabin’s main entrance. Easton puts down his goblet and rises. “You will excuse me for a few minutes, gentlemen. I have some arrangements to see to.” Richard watches Easton stride across the room. “Please make yourselves at home. I shall return very shortly.”
    He goes through the door which closes after him. There is a momentary sound of muffled voices outside which fades away into nothing. Suddenly, the two men can hear each other’s breathing.
    “Admiral Whitbourne,” the young man gasps after a pause. “This is a disaster. We are prisoners and he is going to take over the harbour.”
    “Calm yourself.”
    “We should have attacked when we had the chance!”
    “Nonsense!”
    “I’d rather die than give up our fortifications without firing a shot!”
    Richard thinks for a moment and says nothing. There is no sign of anyone returning. He must communicate with Dawson and quickly. He turns to the young man. “Listen to me,” he says in an urgent whisper. “We are undefended and unarmed. Our fortifications are open to him for the taking at any moment. You are right about that. But so far he has held off. This can only mean one thing. He wants something from us—”
    “But—” Dawson tries to interrupt.
    Richard stops him by holding up his hand. “Listen. When you have no arms, you have only one weapon, the tongue. What we do and say is of vital importance. We must find out what it is he wants. We do that through diplomacy. I do not want you to say anything that would upset or displease him, do you understand?”
    Dawson shakes his head, his eyes so alive with indignation they look as though they might burst.
    “That,” Richard adds emphatically, “is an order.”
    The young captain grits his teeth. “Then I must obey it,” he says casting his eyes downward.
    Richard hears the sound of footsteps approaching once more. The cabin door opens again. Easton appears and smiles at them. “Excuse me again, good sirs,” he says with a genial sigh. He comes back to his seat. “Tell me, how do you find this climate? It is only October, yet perilously cold.”
    Richard smiles. “The summer is short. The winter long. The growing season we have found lasts only from June to August or perhaps September.”
    “You think it a poor hideout then?” Easton asks, touching the bell.
    The hatch opens again and the slave reappears. Richard sees Dawson become agitated at the sight of her; he leans backward then forward in his chair and covers his mouth as she refills his goblet. The slave tops up Easton’s cup and then Richard’s. There is no flirtation this time between her and Easton, and Dawson seems to calm down when she retreats to her doorway.
    Richard continues to explain how the plantations work, probing at Easton’s area of need.
    “I think provisions of all kinds—fuel, vegetables, warm clothing—all of these things are a necessity,” he says. “I would not consider advising anyone to stay without assurances of a constant supply.”
    Easton takes a sip from his goblet and frowns. “My supplies are excellent in most things, including the finest tobacco and wines.”
    “But there must be something that you lack,” Richard urges.
    “That most valuable commodity. Men. Good hardy men. Fishermen make excellent all round sailors. The type you rely on in a crisis.”
    “And that is the