Richard Hughes: A High Wind in Jamaica

The glorious deeds which Edward would occasionally confess to were still received with an admiration hardly at all tempered with incredulity. He had the intuition, by now, to make them always done in defiance of Jonsen and his crew, not, as formerly, in alliance with or superseding them.

The children listened to all they were told: and according to their ages believed it. Having as yet little sense of contradiction, they blended it quite easily in their minds with their own memories; or sometimes it even cast their memories out. Who were they, children, to know better what had happened to them than grown-ups?

Mrs. Thornton was a feeling, but an essentially Christian woman. The death of John was a blow to her from which she would never recover, as indeed the death of all of them had once been. But she taught the children in saying their prayers to thank God for John’s noble end and let it always be an example to them: and then she taught them to ask God to forgive the pirates for all their cruelty to them. She explained to them that God could only do this when they had been properly punished on earth. The only one who could not understand this at all was Laura — she was, after all, rather young. She used the same form of words as the others, yet contrived to imagine that she was praying to the pirates, not for them; so that it gradually came about that whenever God was mentioned in her hearing the face she imagined for Him was Captain Jonsen’s.

Once more a phase of their lives was receding into the past, and crystallizing into myth.

Emily was too old to say her prayers aloud, so no one could know whether she put in the same phrase as the others about the pirates or not. No one, in point of fact, knew much what Emily was thinking about anything, at that time.

IV

One day a cab came for the whole family, and they drove together right into London. The cab took them into the Temple: and then they had to walk through twisting passages and up some stairs.

It was a day of full spring, and the large room into which they were ushered faced south. The windows were tall and heavily draped with curtains. After the gloomy stairs it seemed all sunshine and warmth. There was a big fire blazing, and the furniture was massive and comfortable, the dark carpet so thick it clung to their shoes.

A young man was standing in front of the fire when they came in. He was very correctly, indeed beautifully dressed: and he was very handsome as well, like a prince. He smiled at them all pleasantly, and came forward and talked like an old friend. The suspicious eyes of the Liddlies soon accepted him as such. He gave their parents cake and wine: and then he insisted on the children being allowed a sip too, with some cake, which was very kind of him. The taste of the wine recalled to all of them that blowy night in Jamaica: they had had none since.

Soon some more people arrived. They were Margaret and Harry, with a small, yellow, fanatical-looking aunt. The two lots of children had not seen each other for a long time: so they only said Hallo to each other very perfunctorily. Mr. Mathias, their host, was just as kind to the new arrivals.

Every one was at great pains to make the visit appear a casual one; but the children all knew more or less that it was nothing of the sort, that something was presently going to happen. However, they could play-act too. Rachel climbed onto Mr. Mathias’s knee. They all gathered round the fire, Emily sitting bolt upright on a foot-stool, Edward and Laura side by side in a capacious arm-chair.

In the middle of every one talking there was a pause, and Mr. Thornton, turning to Emily, said, “Why don’t you tell Mr. Mathias about your adventures?”

“Oh yes!” said Mr. Mathias, “do tell me all about it. Let me see, you’re…”

“Emily,” whispered Mr. Thornton.

“Age?”

“Ten.”

Mr. Mathias reached for a piece of clean paper and a pen.

“What adventures?” asked Emily clearly.

“Well,” said Mr. Mathias, “you started for England on a sailing-ship, didn’t you? The Clorinda ?”

“Yes. She was a barque.”

“And then what happened?”

She paused before answering.

“There was a monkey,” she said judicially.

“A monkey?”

“And a lot of turtles,” put in Rachel.

“Tell him about the pirates,” prompted Mrs. Thornton. Mr. Mathias frowned at her slightly: “Let her tell it in her own words, please.”

“Oh yes,” said Emily dully, “we were captured by pirates, of course.”

Both Edward and Laura had sat up at the word, stiff as spokes.

“Weren’t you with them too, Miss Fernandez?” Mr. Mathias asked.

Miss Fernandez! Every one turned to see who he could mean. He was looking at Margaret.

“Me?” she said suddenly, as if waking up.

“Yes, you! Go on!” said her aunt.

“Say yes,” prompted Edward. “You were with us, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” said Margaret, smiling.

“Then why couldn’t you say so?” hectored Edward.

Mr. Mathias silently noted this curious treatment of the eldest: and Mrs. Thornton told Edward he mustn’t speak like that.

“Tell us what you remember about the capture, will you?” he asked, still of Margaret.

“The what?”

“Of how the pirates captured the Clorinda .”

She looked round nervously and laughed, but said nothing.

“The monkey was in the rigging, so they just came on the ship,” Rachel volunteered.

“Did they — er — fight with the sailors? Did you see them hit anybody? Or threaten anybody?”

“Yes!” cried Edward, and jumped up from his chair, his eyes wide and inspired. “ Bing! Bang! Bong! ” he declared, thumping the seat at each word; then sat down again.

“They didn’t,” said Emily. “Don’t be silly, Edward.”

“Bing, bang, bong,” he repeated, with less conviction.

“ Bung! ” contributed Harry to his support, from under the arm of the fanatical aunt.

“Bim-bam, bim-bam,” sing-songed Laura, suddenly waking up and starting a tattoo of her own.

“Shut up!” cried Mr. Thornton. “Did you, or did you not, any of you, see them hit anybody?”

“Cut off their heads!” cried Edward. “And throw them in the sea! — Far, far…” his eyes became dreamy and sad.

“They didn’t hit anybody,” said Emily. “There wasn’t any one to hit.”

“Then where were all the sailors?” asked Mr. Mathias.

“They were all up the rigging,” said Emily.

“I see,” said Mr. Mathias. “Er — didn’t you say the monkey was in the rigging?”

“He broke his neck,” said Rachel. She wrinkled up her nose disgustedly: “He was drunk.”

“His tail was rotted,” explained Harry.

“Well,” said Mr. Mathias, “when they came on board, what did they do?”

There was a general silence.

“Come, come! What did they do? — What did they do, Miss Fernandez?”

“I don’t know.”

“Emily?”

“ I don’t know.”

He sat back in despair: “But you saw them!”

“No we didn’t,” said Emily, “we went in the deckhouse.”

“And stayed there?”

“We couldn’t open the door.”

“ Bang-bang-bang! ” Laura suddenly rapped out.

“Shut up!”

“And then, when they let you out?”

“We went on the schooner.”

“Were you frightened?”

“What of?”

“Well: them.”

“Who?”

“The pirates.”

“Why should we?”

“They didn’t do anything to frighten you?”

“To frighten us?”

“Coo! José did belch!” Edward interjected merrily, and began giving an imitation. Mrs. Thornton chid him.

“Now,” said Mr. Mathias gravely, “there’s something I want you to tell me, Emily. When you were with the pirates, did they ever do anything you didn’t like? You know what I mean, something nasty ?”