Sacred Hunger - Barry Unsworth [151]
‘And brought ’em here,’ Thurso said, with a peculiar intonation.
‘Yes. That is, they found their way here. As I say, I am not familiar with the details.’
‘I dare say not. Well, I am not concerned to enquire too closely. In this business it is he who possesses the merchandise that has best title to it. And they are fine fellows. Intractable though,’ he added quickly. ‘Devilish proud. There are those who will not bid for Corymantee negroes on any terms. Too much trouble, you know. Still, I will take ’em off your hands, subject to our doctor here casting an eye over ’em. Fifty-eight bars is the price I have been trading at, up on the Sherbro. I will make it sixty for those Gold Coast men, for the sake of avoiding argument.’
‘The price here is seventy-five bars,’ Saunders said. ‘For all male slaves in prime condition, independent of where they hail from. And sixty-eight for women.’
Expressions of outrage Paris had seen before on the captain’s face; but the present one surpassed them all. ‘Seventy-five bars?’ The words came in a harsh, incredulous whisper. He turned his body stiffly round towards Paris, his only ally now, however uncongenial. ‘Did you hear that, Mr Paris? That is near twenty-five guineas in coin of the realm. The prices cannot have jumped so high. When Mr Gordon was Company Agent here there was not this difference; he kept to prices prevailing on the coast.’
‘You had best speak to the Governor about it, not to me.’ Saunders looked suddenly very young, despite his emaciation, and distinctly unhappy. ‘No one else has any say. The Company sent me out as factor but I have no more scope than a dog here – and it is a dog’s life altogether, sir. So you would do best to enquire of the Governor.’
‘I will, be sure of it,’ Thurso said grimly. ‘Come, Mr Paris, there is nothing to be done here for the moment.’
However he had no opportunity at supper, where he found himself seated at some distance from the Governor, below the commander of the garrison, a Major Donlevy, and the Company Treasurer, whose name was Eager, with a young man named Delblanc, described as an artist, on his other side, and Paris opposite with two silent Swedes beside him, whose names the captain hadn’t caught. There were no women at table.
Thurso had already tucked his napkin under his chin and dipped his spoon into his soup when a tall negro in a dark suit and a clerical neckband, who had been introduced as the Reverend Kalabanda, rose to his feet, closed his eyes in the hush and intoned in a voice of considerable resonance: ‘O Most Merciful Father, we give thee humble thanks for this thy special bounty, beseeching thee to continue thy loving-kindness unto us, that our land may yield us her fruits of increase, to thy glory and our comfort, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.’
He resumed his seat in the midst of murmured amens, and addressed himself gravely to his soup.
‘Your English is extremely good, Mr Kalabanda,’ Paris said, speaking across the table. ‘I congratulate you on it.’
The vicar smiled at Paris’s compliments and the small scars high on his cheeks, which Paris thought might be due to ceremonial cuts, stretched with his smile. He was stout and muscular, his arms and shoulders straining his clerical coat. His eyes were coal black and lustrous and the skin of his face shone with health. ‘I have spent many years in England,’ he said. ‘Most of my life. I was at school and at theological college there.’
‘This man is a credit to his family, Mr Paris,’ the Governor said, in his expiring tones. ‘He is a living demonstration of what the African is capable of, given sobriety and good governance.’
‘Aye, dammit, that is the key to the business,’ the major said