Secret Harbor Read online

  She disliked everything he said and the way he said it.

  “Any excitements while I have been away?” her father asked.

  “That cursed pirate Will Wilken came in the night, took six of my best pigs and a dozen turkeys, and slit the throat of the boy who tried to stop him.”

  “It was brave of the lad not to run away,” the Earl remarked.

  “He was a blasted fool, if you ask me, to take on Wilken single-handed,” Roderick Maigrin replied.

  “Anything else?”

  “There’s another damned pirate, a Frenchman, scudding about, called Beaufort. If I see him, I’ll blow a piece of lead between his eyes.”

  Grania was only half listening, and not until the meal had ended and the servants put a number of bottles on the table before they filled up the glasses and left the room did she realise she could escape.

  She was quite certain her father, at any rate, was past noticing whether she was there or not, and she thought that Roderick Maigrin drinking with him would find it difficult if he tried to follow her.

  She therefore waited until she was sure they had for the moment forgotten her existence, then quickly, without speaking she slipped from the room, closing the door behind her.

  Then as she went up the stairs to the only place in which she felt assured of any privacy she wondered what she could do.

  Trembling she was frantically trying to think if there was anybody on the island to whom she could go for help.

  Then she knew that even if they were prepared to assist her, her father could collect her without their being able to prevent it or even protest.

  As she stood on the landing trying to consider what she should do, she heard Roderick Maigrin laugh, and it sounded like the last horror to impinge upon her consciousness, and make her realise how helpless she was.

  She felt it was not only the laugh of a man who had drunk too much, but also of a man who was pleased and satisfied with his lot, a man who had got what he desired.

  Then, almost as if somebody was explaining it to her in words, Grania knew the answer.

  Roderick Maigrin wanted her not only for her looks, and that was obvious from the expression in his eyes, but also because she was her father’s daughter and therefore socially even in the small community that existed on Grenada, of some importance.

  It was the reason why, she thought, he had been attracted to her father in the first place, not only because they were neighbours, but because he wanted to be a friend of the man who was received, consulted and respected by the Governor and by everybody else who mattered.

  Before she had left the island Grania had begun to understand the social snobberies which existed wherever the British ruled.

  But her mother had made it very clear that she disliked Roderick Maigrin not so much because of his breeding, but because of his behaviour.

  “That man is coarse and vulgar,” Grania remembered her saying to her father, “and I will not have him here in my house.”

  “He is a neighbour,” the Earl had replied lightheartedly, “and we have not so many that we can be choosy.”

  “I intend to be what you call ‘choosy’ when it comes to friendship.” the Countess had replied. “We have plenty of other friends when we have time to see them, none of whom wish to be associated with Roderick Maigrin.”

  Her father had argued, but her mother had been adamant.

  “I do not like him, and I do not trust him,” she said finally, “and what is more, whatever you may say, I believe the stories of the way he ill-treats his slaves, so I will not have him here.”

  Her mother had her way to the extent that Roderick Maigrin did not come to Secret Harbour, but Grania knew that her father visited him and they met drinking in other parts of the island.

  Now her mother was dead and her father had agreed that she should marry a man who was everything she hated and despised, and from whom she shrank in terror.

  “What am I to do?”

  The question was beating again and again in her head, and when she went into her bedroom and locked her door, she felt as if the very air coming from the open window repeated and repeated it.

  She did not light the candles that were waiting for her on her dressing-table, but instead went to look out at a sky encrusted with thousands of stars.

  The moonlight was shining on the palm trees as they moved in the wind which still blew faintly from the sea.

  It had dropped with the coming of night, but there was always a fresh breeze blowing over the island to take the edge off the heavy, damp heat which at the height of the sun could be almost intolerable.

  As she stood there, Grania felt that she could smell the stringent fragrance of nutmegs, the sharpness of cinnamon and the clinging scent of cloves.

  Perhaps she was imagining them, but they were so much part of her memories of Grenada that she felt the spices of the island were calling to her and in their own way welcoming her home.

  But home to what?

  To Roderick Maigrin and the terror she felt she must die rather than endure!

  How long she stood at the window she had no idea.

  She only knew that for the moment the years in which she had been in England seemed to vanish as if they had never happened and instead she was part of the island as she had been for so many years of her life.

  It was not only the magic of the tropical jungle, the giant tree ferns, the liana vines and the cocoa plantations, but it was also the story of her own life.

  A world of Caribs, of buccaneers and pirates, of hurricanes and volcanic eruptions, of battles on land and sea between the French and the English.

  It was all so familiar that it had become part of herself and indivisible from her, and the education she had received in London peeled away in the warmth of the air.

  She was no longer Lady Grania O’Kerry, but instead one with the spirits of Grenada, one with the flowers, the spices, the palm trees and the softly lapping waves of the sea which she could hear far away in the distance.

  “Help me! Help me!” Grania cried aloud.

  She was calling to the island as if it could feel for her in her troubles and help her.

  A long time later Grania slowly undressed and got into bed.

  There had been no sound in the house while she was looking out into the night, and she thought that if her father had come unsteadily up to bed she would have heard his footsteps on the stairs.

  But she did not worry about him as she had done so often since he had come back into her life.

  Instead she could only think of herself, and even as her eyes closed in sleep she was praying with an intensity that involved her whole body and soul for help.

  Grania awoke startled by a noise that she sensed rather than heard.

  Then as she came back to consciousness and listened, she heard it again and for a moment thought that somebody was at her bedroom door, and was afraid of who it might be.

  Then she realised the sound had come from outside, and again there was a low whistle, followed by the sound of her name.

  Still only half-awake Grania got out of bed and went to the window which she had left open and uncurtained.

  She looked out and there below her she saw Abe.

  He was her father’s servant. He had come with him to England and she had known him all her life.

  It was Abe who had managed their house for her mother, found the servants they could afford and trained them besides keeping them in order.

  It was Abe who had first taken her out in a boat when she came to the Island and she had helped him bring back the lobsters which they caught in their own bay, and searched for the oysters which her father preferred to any other sea-food.

  It was Abe who had taken her riding on a small pony when she was too small to walk round the plantation to watch the slaves working amongst the bananas, the nutmegs and the cocoa beans.

  It was Abe who would go with her to St. George when she wanted to buy something in the shops, or merely to
watch the big ships come in to unload their cargo and pick up passengers travelling to other islands.

  “I do not know what we should do without Abe,” her mother said almost every day of her childhood.

  When they had left for London without him, Grania often felt her mother missed Abe as much as she did.

  “We ought to have brought him with us,” she said, but her mother had shaken her head.

  “Abe belongs to Grenada and is part of the island,” she said. “What is more, your father could not manage without him.”

  After she had sent for her father and he arrived in England too late to say goodbye to her mother before she died, Abe had come with him.

  Grania had been so pleased to see Abe that she almost flung her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  She had only stopped herself at the last moment because she realised how much it would embarrass Abe. But the sight of his smiling coffee-coloured face had made Grania feel home-sick for Grenada in a way she had not felt all the time she had been in London.

  Leaning out of the window now Grania asked:

  “What is it, Abe?”

  “I mus’ talk with you, Lady.”

  He now called her “Lady”, though when she was a child he had said “Little Lady”, and there was something in the way he spoke which told Grania it was important.

  “I will come down,” she said, then hesitated.

  Abe knew what she was thinking.

  “Quite safe, Lady,” he said, “Master not hear.”

  Grania knew without further explanation why the Earl would not hear, and without saying any more she put on a dressing-gown which was lying unpacked on top of her trunk and a pair of soft slippers.

  Then cautiously, making as little noise as possible, she unlocked her bedroom door.

  Whatever Abe might say, she was afraid not of seeing her father but their host.

  The candles on the stairs were still alight but guttering low as she came down, and reaching the hall she entered the room which she knew looked out onto the garden below her bedroom.

  She went to the window which opened onto the verandah and as she lifted the catch Abe came up the wooden steps to join her.

  “We leave quickly, Lady.”

  “Leave? What do you mean?”

  “Danger—big danger!”

  “What has happened? What are you trying to tell me?” Grania asked.

  Before he answered, Abe looked over his shoulder almost as if he was afraid somebody might be listening. Then he said:

  “Rebellion start in Grenville ’mong French slaves.”

  “A rebellion!” Grania exclaimed.

  “Very bad. Kill many English!”

  “How do you know this?” Grania asked.

  “Some run ’way. Reach here afor’ dark.”

  Abe looked over his shoulder again before he said: “Slaves here think they join rebellion.”

  Grania did not question that he was telling the truth. There were always rumours of trouble on the islands which were constantly changing hands, of rebellions amongst the communities which favoured the French, or favoured the English, which were not in power.

  The only thing which was surprising was that it should happen on Grenada which had been English for twelve years after a comparatively short period when it had been in the hands of the French.

  But when she had been sailing in the ship from England the officers had talked incessantly of the revolution in France and the execution two years ago of Louis XVI.

  “It is obvious now that the French slaves on the islands are likely to become restless,” the Captain had said, “and ready to start their own revolutions.”

  Now it had happened in Grenada and Grania was frightened.

  “Where shall we go?” she asked.

  “Home, mistress. Much safest place. Few people find Secret Harbour.”

  Grania knew that was true. Secret Harbour was rightly named.

  The house which had been built many years before her father restored it was in an obscure part of the island, and likely to be a safe hiding-place from the French or anybody else.

  “We must go at once!” she said. “Have you told Papa?”

  Abe shook his head.

  “No wake Master,” he answered. “You come now, Lady, Master follow.”

  For a moment Grania hesitated at the idea of leaving her father. Then she thought she would also be leaving Roderick Maigrin, and that was certainly something she wished to do.

  “All right, Abe,” she said. “We must go if there is any danger, and I am sure Papa will follow us tomorrow.”

  “I three horses ready,” Abe said. “One carry luggage.”

  Grania was just about to say her luggage was of no importance, then changed her mind.

  After all, she had not been home for three years and she had nothing to wear except the clothes she had brought with her from London.

  As if he sensed her hesitation Abe said:

  “Leave to me, Lady, I fetch trunk.”

  Then as if he was suddenly frightened he added: “Hurry! Go quick! No time lose!”

  Grania gave a little gasp, then holding up her dressing-gown with both hands she ran back through the room and up the stairs to her bedroom.

  It took her only a few minutes to put on her riding skirt and pack the gown she had worn for dinner, with her night things on the top of her trunk which had not yet been unpacked.

  Just one piece of her luggage had been brought upstairs and the rest had been left below.

  She was just buttoning her muslin blouse when Abe knocked very softly on the door.

  “I am ready, Abe,” she whispered.

  He came in, shut her trunk, strapped it and picked it up.

  He set it on his shoulder and without speaking moved silently down the stairs.

  Grania followed him, when as she reached the hall she knew she could not leave without telling her father where she was going.

  She had already seen that there was a desk in the room in which Roderick Maigrin had received them before dinner. Carrying a candle she searched for a piece of writing-paper.

  She found it and also a quill pen which she dipped into the ink-well, and wrote:

  “I have gone home,

  Grania

  Carrying the candle she went back into the hall.

  For a moment she wondered if she should leave the note on a side-table where her father would see it.

  Then she was afraid it might be removed before he should do so.

  Nervously, conscious that her heart was beating violently she slowly turned the handle of the Dining-Room door.

  It opened a crack and she peeped inside.

  She could see the table and the light of the candles revealed the two men slumped forward unconscious, their heads amongst the bottles and glasses.

  For a moment Grania just looked at the man who was her father and the man he intended her to marry.

  As if she could not bear to go any nearer she slipped the piece of paper on which she had written the message just inside the door before she closed it again.

  Then she was running as quickly as she could, pursued by a terror she could not suppress, to where Abe was waiting for her outside.

  CHAPTER TWO

  GRANIA RODE WITHOUT speaking followed by Abe leading a horse with two of her trunks roped across the saddle while another horse carried a third trunk and a wicker basket.

  She was aware as Abe pointed the way that he had no wish to travel on the road—little more than a track—which lay to the North of Maigrin House and was not only the nearest way to Secret Harbour, but also to St. George’s and the other Westward parts of the island.

  She wondered at his desire for concealment and thought perhaps he was afraid they would meet a band of slaves rebelling against their owner, or wishing to join those who were already rioting in Grenville.

  Abe had said “many English killed”, and she knew that once the slaves started looting, killing and pillaging it would be
hard to stop them.

  She was afraid, but not so afraid as she was of Roderick Maigrin and the future her father had determined for her.

  She had the feeling as she rode through the thick vegetation that she was escaping from him and he would never be able to catch up with her again.

  She knew this idea had no foundation in fact, but at least she was moving away from him, which was a consolation in itself.

  There was a path of a sort which kept parallel with the sea, twisting and turning to follow the numerous bays and rugged outline of the coast.

  Grania was aware that by this route it would take very much longer to reach home. At the same time she was in no hurry.

  The scene around her had a strange, ethereal magic which was a part of her heart.

  The shafts of moonlight seemed almost like a revelation coming down to them from the Heavens making a pattern of silver on the path ahead and on the great leaves of the tropical ferns.

  They passed cascades that were like molten silver, then had glimpses of the sea with the moon shimmering on the slight movement of the water and breaking crystal on the sands.

  It was a world Grania knew and loved. For the moment she wanted to forget the past and the future, and think only that she was home, and that the spirits that inhabited the tropical forests were protecting and guiding her.

  After they had travelled for nearly an hour the path entered an open space and Abe walked beside her.

  “Who is looking after everything at home while you have been in England?” Grania asked.

  There was a little pause before he replied:

  “Joseph in charge.”

  Grania thought for a moment, then she remembered a tall young man who she thought was some relation of Abe’s.

  “Are you sure Joseph is capable of looking after the house and the plantations?” she asked.

  Abe did not answer and she said insistently:

  “Tell me what has been happening, Abe. You are keeping something from me.”

  “Master not live Secret Harbour for two year!” Abe said at length.

  Grania was astonished.

  “Not live at Secret Harbour?” she enquired. “Then where ... ?”

  She stopped. There was no need to answer that question.