Sacred Hunger - Barry Unsworth [227]
‘We were not entirely governed by motives of friendship either, if I remember rightly,’ Redwood said, smiling down the table at Watson. ‘And it might even be thought by some that we had territorial ambitions of our own.’
Campbell had developed a habit, in these anxious days, of glancing aside with a sharp compression of the lips, as at some sudden pain. He did it now. ‘This habit of sarcasm is growing upon you, Redwood,’ he said testily. ‘You cannot compare the policy of national states with the petty intrigues of these savages.’
‘Ah, no, of course not.’ Redwood poured himself more wine. He drank a good deal, though without looking much the worse for it.
‘Now England is the occupying power, not Spain,’ Campbell said, ‘and it needs little for them to transfer their hostility to us. Aye, by God, very little – a few more days kicking their heels in the woods there might be enough to do it.’
‘But you will have told them the ships are on the way,’ Erasmus said.
‘Sir, they are not like us. If I say to you that there are ships on the way, loaded with the things you want, but they are delayed by weather, and if I give you my hand on it, you will take my word, because we are men of honour. But these people never trust assurances completely. There is some confounded division in their skulls, sir, I know not how to describe it, they are capable of believing a thing and not believing it both at the same time.’
Erasmus nodded, tightening his lips. There could hardly have been anything he found more reprehensible. He could understand consecutive beliefs that might be contradictory, each filling the mind in its season; but not this appalling confusion. Every promise, every glance, would be tainted by it. It was like believing a man innocent and guilty of the same offence. Madness … The memory of an entry in his cousin’s journal came suddenly to him. A dying negro. Death in his eyes and the invincible desire to live. Paris had presided over life and death. Looking up he found the Governor’s twinkling gaze upon him. ‘That is the savage mind, I suppose,’ he said.
‘Aye,’ Campbell said, ‘and even when the vessels come in, I cannot be assured that they will be sufficiently stocked to feed the Indians and satisfy their appetite for trade goods until the Treaty of Limits is signed. Nine hundred pounds, sir, that is all the Government has seen fit to grant me for the conduct of this business, which is vital for the future prospects of the Colony. It almost defies belief. I can only think that His Majesty has not been properly informed of what may happen if we fail here. I have made an outlay of seven hundred and six pounds and two shillings on provisioning the ships. It needs not much calculation to see that our margins are perilously slight. I tell you this, sir, in the hope that you may be able to bring some influence to bear on your return to England.’
‘I will do what I can,’ Erasmus said. Campbell still thought in terms of a public official, which did not differ much from those of a shopkeeper. It was natural enough – he had to account for every penny. But it was a pitiful waste of labour to solicit a few hundred pounds more from a miserly Exchequer when there were vast profits waiting to be picked up here in the Colony. However, this was not the time to say so. At present, he knew, it was the value to Campbell of his influence in England that held out the best prospect of obtaining the troops and cannon he wanted. ‘If the matter were represented as a legitimate concern of the Sugar Interest, we might do much,’ he said. ‘And it