Tim Severin - Buccaneer

He waved the speculum in the air to emphasise the point. 'The chief ailments which afflict the sailor are concerned with his digestion — constipation and the flux. For the former we can administer a syrup of cassia pods or licorice juice at one end or, if there is a stoppage, we may dilate the fundament with this implement and extract the offending blockage at the other end. That will provide comfort and remedy.'

Casually he tossed the speculum back into the medicine chest where it fell with a metallic clatter among the other instruments. 'Over the next few days,' he went on, 'I want you to clean and oil all these instruments, sharpen them as needed, and wrap them in well-greased cloth. They must not be allowed to rust.'

Looking into the chest, Hector noted wicked-looking saws and chisels, clamps and drills, pincers and nippers of different shapes and with strangely shaped jaws, even an ebony mallet.

Smeeton pulled a small cloth-bound notebook from his pocket. "This is something else you will need. I want you to write a list of all the plasters, unguents, chemical oils, syrups, electuaries, pastilles and simples that you find, together with their quantities. I will advise you what each is suitable for so that you may make your own directory.'

Hector had got as far as listing that a plaster of sweet clover would, in Smeeton's words, 'dispel windiness', when their ship reached Golden Island. Six other vessels were already waiting at the rendezvous, a small bay facing directly across to the mainland little more than a mile away. The anchorage was ideal for their clandestine purpose. From seaward it was completely hidden behind the island's rocky peak with its cover of thick scrub and stands of ceiba trees, while a narrow fringe of beach provided level ground for a camp. Numbers of men could be seen moving about under the coconut palms, and a row of cooking tents had been set up on the beach.

'This is almost as large an undertaking as when Morgan sacked Panama. The size of that raid is famous among my people,' commented Dan looking out over the assembled shipping.

'Surely the Spaniards will have taken precautions against another attack,' said Hector. Standing on deck beside the Miskito, he had been thinking about Susanna yet again and wondering if any of the buccaneer ships might later be returning to Jamaica. If so, he would try to persuade his friends to go back there with him.

'The thirst for gold is a great lure,' replied the Miskito. He pointed to a canoe which had just entered the bay and was working its way between the anchored ships, heading towards the beach. 'I'd say those fellows may have something to do with what happens.'

'Do you know who they are?' asked Hector. The dozen or so occupants of the canoe were too dark-skinned to be Europeans. One of them was wearing on his head what looked like a metal bowl.

'They are Kuna, the people who live over there in the mountains.' Dan gestured towards the mainland where ranges of forest-clad hills rose in rank after rank, wreathed with grey wisps of low cloud. On Golden Island the weather was as brilliant and sunny as when they had joined the ship. By contrast the mainland gave the impression of being gloomily drenched in drizzle and mist.

'Hector Lynch,' said a voice behind them. Startled, they turned to find Captain Harris had come on deck. 'Your companion, the Frenchman, said that you speak Spanish.'

'That's true. My mother is Spanish.'

'I need you to accompany me ashore. The captains are holding a council with the Indian chiefs. No one among us speaks the Kuna tongue, but the Indians have lived alongside the Spaniards long enough for them to have a knowledge of their language.'

'I will do my best.'

Harris led the way to a rope ladder, and soon Hector was being ferried ashore with his captain. As he passed through the buccaneer flotilla, Hector could see that Harris's vessel was the largest in the company. The next in size was an eight-gun sloop which seemed vaguely familiar, while the smallest was a pinnace so tiny that it carried no cannon at all. Whatever the buccaneers had in mind, Hector concluded, it depended on their strength in numbers of men, not the firepower of their vessels.

He followed Harris up the beach. Standing in a group beside the path were the Indians who had just arrived by canoe. The Kuna were not as tall as the Miskito, the only natives of the Caribbean he had met so far, but they were well set up and sturdy, with dark brownish-yellow skin and straight black hair. Their faces were dominated by strong noses from which deep furrows extended down to the corners of their mouths, giving them a solemn and severe expression. The leader appeared to be the man who wore the metal bowl on his head which proved to be a vintage Spanish helmet made of polished brass. Like most of his fellows, he was stark naked except for a funnel-shaped penis cover of gold fastened by a string around his waist. From his nose dangled a crescent-shaped plate of gold. Yet the Indian who most attracted Hector's attention was the only Kuna who covered his body. He was wrapped in a blanket from his ankles to his neck. All of his visible skin - his arms and feet, and face — was a ghostly unnatural white and disfigured with red blotches and bites. When he turned to look at Hector, his eyes were half closed, the lids fluttered, and specks of blood were seeping from cracked lips.

Harris politely doffed his hat as he walked past the Kuna, and Hector followed him into the little clearing in the coconut grove where the other buccaneer leaders were already assembled. Hector counted seven captains, together with their aides, and they were standing in small groups, talking together. One of the captains, who was facing away, reached up and scratched the back of his neck. All at once, Hector knew why the eight-gun sloop in the bay had seemed familiar. It was the vessel which had intercepted L'Arc-de-Ciel. Even as the realisation dawned, John Coxon turned to greet Peter Harris and his eye fell on Hector. The quick flush of anger which discoloured his features left no doubt that he recognised the young man.

'Captain Harris, it would have been better if you had been with us earlier,' Coxon grated. 'We have been in consultation with the Kuna for these past five days, and are ready to make a decision.'

'I bring the largest company so it was only right that you should wait,' retorted Harris, and Hector detected a simmering rivalry between the two men.

'Let's get down to business,' said another of the captains soothingly. A man of medium height, his round soft face had the down-turned fleshy mouth and protruding lips of a carp. Obviously unwell, he was leaning on a stick and sweating heavily as he looked round the gathering with watery pale blue eyes. Hector thought he detected a whiff of manipulation, of fraudulence.

'That's right, Captain Sharpe. We must not keep our Kuna friends waiting,' agreed Coxon. He crossed to where some benches had been set out under the trees, and beckoned the Kuna to be seated. The pale man in the blanket did not come forward but moved to stand in a patch of deep shade.

As the meeting proceeded, Hector was able to put names to the other buccaneer captains. Two of them, Alleston and Macket, seemed to be lesser figures, for they said little. A third man, Edmund Cook, was a puzzle. For a seagoing man he dressed very fastidiously. He wore a deep, curving lace collar over a loose mauve tunic and had tied a bunch of ribbons to one shoulder. By contrast Captain Sawkins, seated next to him, cared nothing for his appearance. His unshaven cheeks were stubbled and grimy, and he was obviously someone who preferred action to words. He kept glancing impatiently from one speaker to the next, and fiddling with the handle of the dagger in his belt. When Coxon and Harris bickered, as they did constantly, Sawkins tended to side with Harris.