Sacred Hunger - Barry Unsworth [220]
Erasmus considered. He had never taken easily to waiting; and there would be some advantage, slight but ponderable, in having himself properly announced and received, rather than appearing to wait on the governor’s pleasure. They had entered now the precincts of the city. A pleasant, well-shaded avenue led between gardens and orange groves. ‘If you will be good enough to set me down in the principal square,’ he said, ‘I will walk for an hour and view the town.’
The offer of an escort was declined with polite firmness. In a short while Erasmus was sauntering through the lanes that ran north and south, parallel to the sea wall, Harvey a pace behind, laden with his sword and his gloves and the small box containing his letters of introduction and soon – since the afternoon sun was still hot – his coat and hat.
He was struck by the silence and abandonment of the place. There were no surfaced roads. There were no pavements or sidewalks. The houses were built in the Spanish style, with projecting balconies and latticed verandahs. Time and weather had softened their colours and crumbled the walls surrounding their neglected gardens. For the most part they were shuttered and silent. The whole city lay under the hush of desertion. The stores in the square were boarded. A few listless Indians sat on the steps of the Spanish Mission Church. He encountered small groups of red-coated soldiers from the garrison, but no European civilians at all. The British, it seemed, had taken over an empty city.
It was early evening when he presented himself at the Residence, a white, Spanish-style mansion of good proportions, facing to the sea. He was conducted to the drawing-room, where he found Campbell, together with another man, an officer in uniform, awaiting him. He delivered his letters and expressed himself delighted to make the Governor’s acquaintance.
‘And I yours, sir,’ the Governor said. ‘I bid you heartily welcome here in our new Colony of Florida.’ He was a lean, wiry man, with an energetic manner and the accents of his native Banffshire. His eyes were small and watchful and they held a twinkling light. ‘I have the honour to present Major Redwood, the commander of our garrison here,’ he said.
‘Your servant, sir.’ The major brought his heels together with a jingle of spears. He was big and fair-browed, with a good-humoured, careless face. ‘We have a damned good brandy here,’ he said, ‘if you want to celebrate being on terra firma again. I hate ships myself. The Spanish left a cellarful of it. Just about all they did leave, apart from rusty cannon and dying Indians.’
‘Come, Redwood, we must not give our visitor the wrong impression.’
This had been said with a smile, but Erasmus heard the note of reproof and understood it perfectly. He was swift and acute where his interest was involved. There were two different types of men before him here and the difference might be useful. ‘We should drink to them for leaving it,’ he said with a smile of good-fellowship for Redwood. ‘Then another bumper in gratitude to them for taking themselves off and allowing us to drink in peace.’
This was a sentiment that appealed to the major, who broke into a loud laugh. Erasmus turned back to the Governor. ‘They could not take this happy climate away with them,’ he said, ‘nor the fertility of the soil.’
Campbell showed some cautious pleasure at this. ‘You are right, sir,’ he said. ‘I perceive you to be a man of sense and observation. Why, you can get three crops of vegetables a year out of this soil and figs and oranges in abundance. This could be a paradise, if settled with subjects of King George and properly cultivated.’
‘Let us drink to that and be damned to the Dons,’ Erasmus said, raising his glass.
‘You are proposing to remain some time with