Part 25 (1/2)

”I'm not part of your little war.”

”That you're decidedly not, sir. So we'll not be requiring your services here tonight.”

”What's the difficulty?” Winston was still walking directly toward them.

”It's a matter of the safety of Barbados. I've said it doesn't concern you.”

”Those indentures concern me. I don't want them shot.”

”Tell that to the a.s.sembly, sir. We came here tonight offering to take Dalby Bedford under our care, peacefully. To protect him from elements on the island who're set to disown Parliament. But some of the hotheads in there mistook our peaceful purpose and opened fire on us.”

”Maybe they think they can 'protect' him better than you can.” Another round of fire sounded from the doorway of the a.s.sembly Room and thudded into the log barricade. When two of the planters cursed and fired back, the door was abruptly slammed shut.

”It's the a.s.sembly that's usurped rightful rule here, sir, as tonight should amply show. When they no longer represent the true interests of Barbados.” Briggs glared at him. ”We're restoring proper authority to this island, long overdue.”

”You and the Council can restore whatever you like. I'm just here to take care of my indentures, before you manage to have some of them killed.”

”They're not yours yet, sir. The situation's changed. We're not letting them go whilst the island's unsettled.”

”The only unsettling thing I see here are all those muskets.” He reached into the pocket of his jerkin and lifted out the leather packet containing the sight drafts. ”So we're going to make that transfer, right now.”

”Well, I'm d.a.m.ned if you'll have a single man. This is not the time agreed.” Briggs looked around at the other members of the Council.

Behind them the crowd of indentures had stopped work to listen.

”The sight bills are payable on demand. We've settled the terms, and I'm officially calling them in.” Winston pa.s.sed over the packet.

”You've got plenty of witnesses. Here're the sight bills. As of now, the indentures are mine.” He pulled a sheaf of papers from the other pocket of his jerkin. ' 'You're welcome to look over the drafts while I start checking off the men.”

Briggs seized the leather packet and flung it to the ground. Then he lifted his musket. ”These indentures are still under our authority.

Until we say, no man's going to take them. Not even. . .”

A series of musket shots erupted from the window of the a.s.sembly Room, causing Briggs and the other planters to duck down behind the log barricade. Winston remained standing as he called out the first name on the sheet.

”Timothy Farrell.”

The red-faced Irishman climbed around Briggs and moved

forward, his face puzzled. He remained behind the pile of logs as he hunkered down, still holding his half-pike.

”That's my name, Yor Wors.h.i.+p. But Master Briggs . . .”

”Farrell, here's the indenture contract we drew up for your transfer.”

Winston held out the first paper from the sheaf. ”I've marked it paid and had it stamped. Come and get it and you're free to go.”

”What's this, Yor Wors.h.i.+p?” He gingerly reached up for the paper and stared at it in the torchlight, uncomprehending. ”I heard you was like to be buying out my contract. By my reckoning there's two more year left on it.”

”I did just buy it. It's there in your hand. You're a free man.”