Sacred Hunger - Barry Unsworth [221]
‘You are very good, sir. Yes, some little time. There is much of interest here, and I shall need to inform myself before I can make a full report to my partners in London as to the prospects for development in the Colony.’
Campbell nodded with the vigour characteristic of all his movements. When he spoke, however, his voice was softer and the Scottish accent more clearly audible. ‘Yes, sir, we shall hope you carry away with you a favourable impression. But perhaps there is something more particular that you will be requiring from us?’
Erasmus sipped his brandy. There had been more than politeness in this query. It was almost as if the other were reaching for an accommodation between them already. Campbell was a shrewd fellow, by no means the simple soldier he might have wanted to be thought. ‘There are things we might profitably discuss, sir, bye and bye,’ he said. ‘Time and your other engagements permitting.’
‘In the meantime, what do you say to some more brandy?’ Redwood said, turning towards the sideboard. He moved lightly for a man of his bulk. ‘ ’Twill evaporate completely if left too long.’
‘You will stay with us here, of course, for the length of your visit?’ the Governor said. ‘I dare say we can make you rather more comfortable than you will have been aboard ship.’
Erasmus made some demur, but not much; he had been expecting the offer. He was engaged to dinner and shown his quarters, while Harvey, who had just discovered a source of grog below stairs and had begun to harbour designs on a serving girl with Spanish brows and Indian colouring, was dispatched back to the ship for some further necessities of his master’s.
There were only the three of them at dinner. An orderly in uniform served them with quail pie and roast venison and an assortment of fresh vegetables, accompanied by a good Burgundy. Erasmus commented on the excellence of the meal.
‘We owe it to Redwood,’ Campbell said, glancing at the commandant with his usual careful, close-mouthed geniality. The major, it was now explained, had been in charge of the British occupation force when the Colony was handed over by the Spanish, and had served as administrator until the Governor’s arrival eighteen months later. A good deal of his time had been spent on food, one way and another – organizing field kitchens for the garrison, recruiting and training kitchen staff for the Residence, ensuring a supply of fresh meat and vegetables from the surrounding countryside.
‘Well, my congratulations, sir,’ Erasmus said. ‘The results do you credit.’ Much of what Campbell had just been telling him he knew already, though he was careful to give no indication of this. In his usual methodical way, he had made enquiries before leaving England and he knew more about both men than either would have suspected. As they sat after dinner on the terrace with their brandy and cigars, he reviewed this knowledge in his mind. Redwood had been a professional soldier from the age of eighteen when he had joined as an ensign in a regiment of infantry. Since then he had seen service in a dozen campaigns. He was brave, competent, perhaps not greatly ambitious, though he would doubtless be hoping for promotion now, after his services in this interim period. He struck Erasmus as a man who would do much for the sake of friendship or even from a careless kind of generosity. Not so Campbell …
He thought again about the Governor’s record. A cavalryman by training, he had fought with Cumberland against his fellow Scots and held a command under Ligonier in the expeditionary force to Flanders. He had come to North America in 1757 and fought the French and their Indian allies in Pennsylvania and South Carolina. In 1761 he had helped in the defeat and decimation of the Cherokee nation, distinguishing himself as much by his adroit manipulation of rivalries among the tribes as by skill in the field. His present post was a recognition of