Vidiadhar Naipaul - A Way in the World

“I have good luck.’

“As sometimes happens when I am in an unequal relationship with a man in authority for whom I have no regard, I began to exaggerate the side of my character that was opposite to his. It can look like irony to some, but it really is a form of unhappiness. I became soft, over-cultured. I said, ‘Cicero says good luck is one of the four qualities of a successful military man.’

“ ‘What are the other three?’

“ ‘Talent, military knowledge, and prestige. The words have very wide meanings.’

“ ‘Don’t you think it would have been different at Coro if you had had a man of luck at your side? A man who believed in his luck wouldn’t have been so much on the defensive. He might have shown you some way of cutting off the Spanish force that was shadowing you, squeezing them between you and the ships, and then marching on Caracas.’

“I had no faith in the men. They had begun to fight among themselves.’

“ ‘How are you going to pay them off? And settle the master of the Trimmer ? He’s going to sue you. He says you hired his ship in Barbados. Why don’t you sell the Leander ? It will fetch a good price. You will pay off everybody if you sell it well.’

“ ‘Who will buy it?’

“‘I will buy it. That’s not charity. It’s a business deal. I will refit the ship in Antigua or Barbados, get it up to Admiralty standards, and sell it to the Navy. The Navy needs ships. I know exactly what they need.’

“He said no more, and now to some extent I wait on his decision. He knows that, and for some days he has not mentioned the Leander. I feel uneasy, because it seems too easy, and because I’m not sure now what’s coming from Lieutenant Briarly.

“I got to know today.

“He said abruptly at dinner, ‘I think before you sell, the Leander should make one last run under American colours. Up the river to Angostura. That’s where you should have gone in the first place. The river is narrow, the town is not well-protected. I know the place. As a good Navy man, my first thought when I look at a town from a river or the sea is, “What’s the best way of attacking this place?” It’s a mental exercise for me. And the Venezuelan ship captains bring me information all the time. I know exactly what to do at Angostura. An hour’s hot work by good Navy gunners would deal with the military barracks and such fortifications as they have. We could then move up and down at will, covering you. We could hold the town for quite a while. You could land and proclaim your republic. If it works you stay. If not, in five days you are back here.’

“I know it’s an act of piracy he’s proposing. That’s the idea he has of me and my cause. It’s the idea the Venezuelans have spread, and it’s exactly the way some of the Leander men used to talk at the beginning. And, of course, I would be completely in his power. He could withdraw his force, he could hand me over to the Spaniards, he could do anything. But the insult! The insult!

“Two days later. Nothing said in the interim. Now: ‘Have you thought it over?’

“ ‘Angostura is better fortified than you imagine. An attacking force coming upriver would be very vulnerable.’

“ ‘So your answer is no?’

“ ‘I fear so.’

“He was enraged, icy. He said, ‘The commandeur of my property here has been complaining to me. You have been making far too free with the mules and the Negroes. To the general prejudice of the place. The commandeur says he is not able to get on with his proper duties.’

“I said, ‘You offered the facility. I have been transferring supplies from the Leander to a warehouse. You know that.’

“ ‘I gave permission for one day. I didn’t give permission for a week. I think you should leave. I have in fact drafted a letter to Admiral Cochrane telling him that I feel compromised in my dealings with Spaniards and others by your continued residence here. In the circumstances you will understand that I have to decline your offer of the Leander. I think you should leave as soon as possible.’

“I left the next morning. I was relieved to get away from the house. But I was sorry about the Leander. He had encouraged me to think that the deal was all but struck.

“I went to McKay’s Hotel. It is next door to the military barracks, where for four weeks or so I drilled my men. Downstairs, McKay’s is a tavern with a billiard table for merchants’ clerks. Upstairs there are four or five rooms overlooking the parade ground.

“McKay came here just after the British conquest. He had heard from someone that the island was empty and they were giving away land. He found when he came that they were indeed giving away land, but only in large acreages and only to people who could bring in a large enough Negro atelier. He said as a joke to the chief magistrate one day, ‘Suppose I start clearing five acres of forest for myself, what will happen?’ The chief magistrate said in the same spirit, ‘Vallot’s jail and Negro’s punishment, thirty-nine lashes.’ Vallot was the jailer at the time, a Frenchman from Martinique, a figure of terror to the Negroes. It is a tavern-keeper’s story, the way McKay tells it now, and of course he has done well with the billiard table and the dubious rooms upstairs, and has a few Negroes of his own. About the billiards: McKay says every table pays a tax, and the money goes straight to Hislop as part of his official fees as governor.

“I have written down that story about McKay for you, Sally. What I will not write about is my mood. The fact is I don’t know what to do now about anything — not even about the Leander people — and I don’t see there is anything I can do. I have simply to wait until I hear from Rouvray in London. That will be three months at least. I know how to wait. It’s the one thing I have learned in the last twenty years. What I don’t know is how well I will get on here. I am among people who don’t really know who I am. They have their own ideas. They are ready enough to go by the regard of people like Hislop and Cochrane, but when that regard isn’t there they don’t know what value to put on me. I am not like anyone they know.

“It’s strange, but I have never been in a situation like this before. In Caracas I was the son of a rich and prominent man. Even as a child I was known. I grew up feeling famous. Later in Spain I was an extravagant colonial, and then I was a captain in the Princess Regiment. I suppose I floundered for a while when I left the Spanish service and went to the United States. I had to pick my way, and I had to improvise all the time. But at the end of my time in the United States I had given myself a character that well-placed people could recognize. In England, France, Russia, I became known for my political cause. It is a very special cause. I have always been somebody. Here now, so close to home, I see no kind of recognition in people’s eyes, and I feel as though I am losing pieces of myself.

“And then, Sally, after all that worry, I didn’t have to stay at the hotel. I was rescued. McKay’s people were bringing my boxes up when Bernard came, running up the rough plank steps in his heavy boots. He was in his planter’s working clothes, and looked quite different from when I had last seen him, on the verandah at Government House. He was in his London clothes then.

“Bernard said he had just heard about Briarly, and he had come to take me to his estate house. My boxes were to be taken down again — he gave the orders. He spoke generally with great authority. We were to leave at once. I would be comfortable in his estate house. I would be looked after. I was not to worry about Briarly. I had lost nothing by the quarrel. No one cared much for Briarly and his ruffianly gang of midshipmen. The wonder was that I had stuck it out at Briarly’s for so long.