May Day Mystery
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It was a day of surprises. It had begun with the sound of drumming, but by dawn’s early light, they were sure it came from the shore and not from a ship in the offing. There was no wind to make any attempt at an answer; so they remained on watch while their hearts pounded in time with the beat of drums as far away across the water as they could hear them.
In time the beating faded and stillness fell.
‘I should think that would have been all we’d see of them,’ said Jack, ‘and we’d be thankful for that.’
‘I’m going below and get something to eat,’ replied Will Stanton, who, despite being the youngest man aboard, now took a leading role among those in command when Jack went ashore or to fight a battle.
‘We don’t know if it’s the French,’ said Jack, ‘but I’ll take my share of food just the same. You go too. We might meet up later.’
Will shook his head. ‘No can do. Captain wants you down to the beach. He said he wanted to look around. Don’t know what’s in store for us, but we’re not going to waste the opportunity.’
‘What are the odds?’ asked Jack.
Will shrugged. ‘Not good.’
The two men walked down into the village. They passed along the streets until they reached an abandoned house. The shutters stood wide open and through them, they saw the sea stretching away out of sight. A few feet away a child slept curled up in the doorway of another abandoned building.
‘That one is probably a spy,’ said Jack. ‘We’ll have to kill him if there are any around here.’
They left the street and followed a path that led them to the beach, where several soldiers stood guard, keeping out of the sun and the worst of the heat. They had no weapons, only their uniforms. Jack was relieved to see that they did not carry swords either but instead had muskets slung over their shoulders.
A number of people were gathered on the sand, mostly women and children. As he approached a man called out to him: ‘Captain Hawkins!’
He turned and nodded a greeting to Lieutenant Raby, who had arrived some weeks before. The lieutenant was tall and handsome; Jack liked him right away. He was also young, having come into the service only recently himself. Jack knew that Raby was married, but he had not yet seen the wife. He felt sorry for her.
Jack had never been much for formalities, and he did not offer an arm to Lieutenant Raby. Instead, he simply stepped close enough to touch the back of Raby’s hand, then looked about them, wondering at their welcome. He wondered at the sudden change in the mood of those in this small community.
Raby said, ‘You are most welcome, sir, and you bring your ship’s company with you today? And a fine ship she is too. I saw her coming in from the distance, and thought I had better come to greet you and show my appreciation.’
‘Thank you very kindly, Lieutenant,’ replied Jack. ‘And we are honored that you came down to see us.’
‘I was told you would be arriving,’ said Raby. ‘I am told that you have brought many friends with you, both sailors and settlers.’
‘I’ve got a lot of friends with me,’ Jack admitted. ‘But we’re not staying long. I want to see if anyone has any idea where my friend William Hawkins might have gone to.’
‘Ah yes, Mr. Hawkins,’ said Raby. ‘There was a man looking for him.’ He indicated two older women, sitting on the sand together holding hands tightly as they listened to what he said.
‘Is there any chance that he might be here?’
Raby gave a quick smile, then glanced at his companions for confirmation. They nodded their heads, encouraging him.
Raby said, ‘It’s possible. There are a number of men here from other ships and places too, who may well know where he’s gone. But first I will ask you if you know anything yourself, sir.’
‘I don’t really,’ replied Jack, ‘other than where he is supposed to have gone.’
‘So let me see,’ said Raby. He stood with his hands behind his back, watching the people gathering on the beach. ‘If you do know where he is, you must tell me now – for your own safety if nothing else.’
Jack laughed, then explained that William Hawkins had gone to America because he’d received news that his daughter was ill there. He described how Hawkins had sent word ahead of his arrival in New York so that his daughter and family would be waiting for him when he finally made it into port.
‘Then he should already be there,’ said Raby, smiling broadly now, ‘or at least close by.’
‘I’m sure that’s true,’ agreed Jack. ‘But even so, I think we all need to hear what’s been happening in America in recent months. I’ve got a few ideas of my own too.’
***
After speaking to Jack Hawkins, Lieutenant Raby decided that a meeting was called. He gathered up those who had been on board the Mary Ann with him during the voyage across the Atlantic, as well as many others who lived in or near the village.
Raby knew that Jack had brought more people with him from the Mary Ann than just his crew – people he had met at Boston, among others. These newcomers would certainly help explain what had happened since Captain Hawkins arrived in America, but it seemed clear they could only provide part of the answer.
When everyone assembled in front of the abandoned house, Raby asked the question which had troubled him most during the past few weeks.
‘Who knows best about the situation in America?’
No one answered straightaway. Then someone pointed to a man who had been sitting quietly by himself. He was short but thick-set, with a bushy beard. When he stood up and faced Raby and the other group members, it was obvious why he was chosen to speak.
The man cleared his throat and then began to speak in a low voice. ‘We were told by the men we spoke with in Boston that the war against King George III had begun last autumn – although the fighting started earlier than that. Some of our ships have joined the fight, sailing into New England waters and taking part in battles around Boston. We’ve heard that some of these British soldiers have been captured, and hanged. Others are being taken prisoner and sent back across the ocean, while others are simply being killed. It seems likely that the fighting will continue until the King agrees to peace terms. There is no end in sight yet, but it seems certain to drag on for years yet.’
Everyone listened intently as the man continued to speak. At times he looked nervously at his neighbors, clearly uncertain whether he should be telling such things openly, or only whispering them. Eventually, he stopped talking, unable to go on. A woman stepped forward. She was young and pretty, like her husband. She put her hand on his shoulder as she spoke.
‘That’s right,’ she said softly. ‘My husband tells me that the fighting continues. The British forces have occupied Boston, New York, and Philadelphia, and are making a bid for control of New Jersey too.
In the south, along the Chesapeake Bay, a large fleet under Admiral Lord Howe has been blockading Washington for several months. It seems likely that General Washington can’t hold on much longer, and the city will fall to the British before too long.’
Her husband smiled at her encouragement, but he shook his head.
‘I think I saw something once,’ he said. ‘A newspaper or maybe an account in a magazine written by a man who had sailed down the Chesapeake, and seen Washington surrounded. I read it somewhere in London – not in the town, but at someone’s house where there was a library. It was a story, written to show how dangerous it is to resist the enemy. But I’m sure it wasn’t true. The British would never attack Washington!’
There was little reaction to this pronouncement. Everyone present felt it was impossible for the great city of Washington to fall to the British. The whole country would rise in rebellion if that ever happened. After a moment, however, there was another voice that challenged the first speaker:
‘How can you say such a thing? The British are everywhere! They’re burning our ships and towns. They’re slaughtering hundreds of our soldiers in battle.’
This voice came from an old farmer who had lived alone in the hills to the north of Porto Bello all his life. For some time after their arrival in the Americas, he had kept himself apart from the other villagers, staying indoors and rarely venturing beyond the village limits.
He had been suspicious of everyone he met, especially when they spoke English. Now he turned slowly to face the small group and said defiantly, ‘You know that’s not true. I’ve seen those British soldiers myself! I saw them sail away from here, heading for the Chesapeake Bay. They didn’t look like they were going to take your town.’
The old man spoke with authority because he was a veteran of many campaigns, and he had served with the Spanish army in America since the previous year. His knowledge was well regarded; even now it made him valuable to Raby. Raby took him aside for a private conversation.
‘You’re wrong,’ he began gently, knowing that the old man was proud and would hate being told otherwise. ‘There are thousands of British soldiers in the Chesapeake region. Most of them live in Virginia, and they’ll be marching towards Washington soon enough.’
‘They’re coming here?’ demanded the old man. ‘Why would they do that?’
‘Because they want to keep their troops close to the capital,’ explained Raby. ‘To stop the Americans from rebelling and overthrowing them again. Don’t worry though, it will be months yet before they reach us.’
In his mind he already knew what he must do, and he was anxious to begin preparing the villagers for the worst. But he needed to check a few more facts before he could make any plans.
‘Did you see those soldiers on their ship?’
Again, the old man nodded. ‘Yes, I did. It was early in the morning, just as we were getting ready to set sail. They were loading the ship with cannon and soldiers, and then they cast off. It happened while the wind was still high, and so they went very fast.’
‘Was it a big ship?’
‘It was a brigantine; about the size of yours.’
Raby had heard of the brigantine and knew that it could carry twenty-four cannons. If it contained only two hundred British soldiers, it would provide them with enough firepower to defeat a large army. But that would mean taking Porto Bello; there would be no chance for the village to escape in time.
He turned back to the others.
‘If that was a British warship,’ he said, ‘then there’s a good chance it may return this way, and that means the British might come ashore and take the town by force. We must prepare for that eventuality. You all need to get inside before dark tonight and stay hidden until they leave again. I’ll organize a meeting tomorrow night to plan what we all must do.’
The people of Porto Bello seemed excited by the prospect of fighting against the hated enemy, and so most of them stayed in their houses for much of the following day, leaving their belongings out on the street to give them easy access. Some of the men even slept outside, in case the British attacked while they were sleeping in their beds.
In fact, none of them believed that the enemy would actually come ashore. They thought that Raby was merely overreacting and that he intended to frighten them into remaining inside after dusk. When the sunset, however, the villagers were still sitting on their doorsteps, waiting to see where the soldiers would land.
As darkness fell they saw a long ship approaching Porto Bello. Its masts were tall and slender, and its sails were white and wide. Many of the villagers stood up as it drew near, hoping to identify it. A few of them called out to each other, recognizing the brigantine from the descriptions they had heard from the old man.
Others simply pointed at the vessel as it came closer, and whispered to their neighbors about whether or not the news was true: had they really defeated the British? Was there truth in the rumors that they were coming for revenge?
The captain of the brigantine appeared first, standing on deck dressed in an officer’s uniform. Then several sailors climbed up ropes to join him on the deck, carrying guns and ammunition in canvas sacks. Finally, as the ship came to a halt directly opposite the village, a number of soldiers disembarked to walk along the beach toward Porto Bello.
The first person to realize what was happening was Manuel, a young villager who worked as Raby’s servant. He rushed to tell Raby that the British had arrived and to warn the others inside to be quiet. The rest of the villagers looked at each other nervously but did nothing for some time. At last one of them shouted to the group gathered on the sand.
‘I hear you’re from England,’ he called out loudly. ‘What news is there about the war?’
At this, the soldiers stopped walking and stared at the villager. One of them pulled his hat down over his eyes and said something softly to another soldier, who nodded. After a moment’s hesitation, the first soldier raised his head and answered the question.
‘We’ve won,’ he shouted, ‘but we’ve lost too. We’re here because our king has sent us to take your country back.’
The End