Buccaneer Read Online Free PDF Page A

Henry, allow me to introduce to you a young man that I took from a merchant ship recently. The vessel was stolen from its rightful owners and was in the hands of the thieves. This is the young man’s first visit to our island, but he comes with excellent connections. May I introduce Hector Lynch, nephew to our esteemed former governor Sir Thomas Lynch who, no doubt, will be in your debt for the rescue.’
    The tall man in the plum-coloured coat turned to face Hector, who found himself looking into the pale eyes of Sir Henry Morgan, lieutenant governor of Jamaica.
    ‘Lynch, did you say?’ Sir Henry’s voice was surprisingly thin and high pitched. He spoke with a slight slur, and Hector realised that the lieutenant governor was tipsy. He also looked very unhealthy. The whites of his eyes had a yellowish tinge, and though he must have been in his late forties, he did not carry his years well. Everything about him was gaunt – his face, shoulders and legs, yet his belly was bloated and jutted out unnaturally, straining the lower buttons of his coat. Hector wondered if Morgan was suffering from some sort of dropsy, or perhaps the effects of regular heavy drinking. But the eyes that looked him over were bright with intelligence, and speculative.
    ‘Byndloss, did you hear that?’ Morgan was speaking to his military-looking colleague, evidently a drinking companion to judge by the familiar tone. ‘This young fellow is Sir Thomas’s nephew. We must make him welcome to Llanrumney.’
    ‘Didn’t know Sir Thomas had any more nephews,’ grunted Byndloss rudely. He too was drunk. His complexion was on its way to matching his red uniform jacket. Hector sensed a stir of unease from Coxon beside him.
    ‘A junior branch of the family,’ the buccaneer captain explained swiftly. His tone was obsequious. ‘His father, Stephen, is the youngest of Sir Thomas’s brothers.’
    ‘Then how come he’s not been out to visit us before? Some Lynches must think themselves too grand for us?’ observed Byndloss petulantly. He took another drink from his glass, spilling a few drops down his chin.
    ‘Don’t be so prickly,’ Sir Henry Morgan chided his friend. ‘This is the Christmas season, a time to put aside our differences, and of course for families to get together.’ Turning to Hector, who had still not said a word, he added in that high voice, ‘Your family will be delighted by your arrival. I am pleased that it should have taken place under my roof.’ From his greater height he looked out over his guests, and called out, ‘Robert Lynch, where are you? Come and meet your cousin Hector!’
    Hector could only stand helplessly, paralysed by the certain knowledge that his deception was about to be exposed in public.
    There was a stir at the back of the gathering and a young man shouldered his way forward through the crowd of onlookers. Hector saw that Robert Lynch was about his own age, a round-headed, pleasant-looking fellow dressed fashionably in a brocade vest tied with a buckled girdle. His freckles and round grey-blue eyes gave him a remarkably boyish look.
    ‘My cousin Hector, did you say?’ Robert Lynch sounded eager, yet puzzled.
    He stepped into the circle surrounding his host, and looked closely at Hector. He seemed baffled.
    ‘Yes, yes. Your uncle Stephen’s son . . . he landed unexpectedly just this morning, with Captain Coxon.’ Morgan answered, and turning to Hector asked, ‘Where did you say you are from?’
    For the first time at that gathering, Hector spoke. His false identity was about to be exposed, and he knew he could no longer maintain the deception. ‘There’s a misunderstanding . . .’ he croaked. His throat was dry from nerves.
    Morgan checked, his eyes narrowed and he was about to speak, when Robert Lynch announced in astonishment, ‘But I don’t have an uncle. Two aunts, yes, but no Uncle Stephen. No one ever said anything about a cousin Hector.’
    For a long, unpleasant moment, Sir Henry Morgan