November 25, 1685
The King’s Wark, Leith
Kingdom of Scotland
William Kidd sipped carefully at his tankard. He enjoyed good Scottish ale as well as the next man, but he needed his wits about him more than he required the pleasant sensation of inebriation.
He sat alone at his table. The establishment that he was patronizing was more refined than he was used to, it was well lit, the floor was visible, there was no gaming or dicing visible, and it and even lacked the odor of spilled ale and vomit. Men sat around in small groups drinking or smoking from pipes, and by the frequency of handshakes and money carefully changing hands, they were discussing business. Kidd also had business discuss, had a very particular type of character in mind. For the past two weeks he had been making careful inquiries about the ships entering the harbor, their captains and their cargos. None of the leads that he had pursued so far had proven successful, but today, he hoped would be different.
While he waited for this character to appear, Kidd’s thoughts drifted towards his late adventure with the forces of the Earl of Argyle, and it took every bit of his willpower to avoid draining his tankard. Everything about that disastrous enterprise was behind him, Kid reminded himself, it no longer mattered, except for the eight half-crowns and twenty-two shillings that had been put in his pocket a week ago. But try as he might to remind himself of that fact, his urge to drink remained almost overpowering.
Kidd’s thoughts were interrupted when a man fitting the profile that he was seeking entered the tavern. Small, squinty, eyes, a short stride that showed the man more comfortable walking on a deck than dry land, and of course a pair of fine Cordovan boots. It was his man. He had no sooner sat down at a table than Kidd got up and approached him.
“Niall Oliphant,” said Kidd boisterously, “Barkeep, a round for my friend and I.”
Niall looked rather less happy to see Kidd, but he nodded his assent before the other man took a seat from him across his table.
“William Kidd, verily, I am surprised to meet ye at this location. The Charlotte Elizabeth sailed from New York, and for Dundee, not Leith. How has it come to pass ye are at this tavern and not at sea?”
“Ill fortune. The rebel earl’s men seized the ship, and Captain Forbes when he protested. I’ve spent the better part of three months avoiding press gangs and making my way south. How fares the Dunedin?”
“Poorly. If I’d had an inkling of the trouble that followed the Good King’s death I would have never sailed for Scotland. There is little demand for fur when half the nobility is campaigning. But my principals are all in Edinburgh, and they are strapped for coin. I was forced to sell my cargo to some English projectors for less than half what I would have fetched in Amsterdam.”
“A bloody crime! But what do rich burghers know of trade?”
“Aye.”
His mood lightened a bit, Captain Oliphant drank with Kidd for the next hour, swapping stories of their adventures in the Caribbean, and their mutual friends, including the corruptible, but ever-friendly Lieutenant Governor of New York.
“So tell me, friend, when do ye intend to sail,” asked Kidd between rounds.
“As soon as I can find a cargo worth taking on, and on the cheap. If I cannot find something worth selling in the New World, it will take me years to recoup my losses for this voyage,” said Oliphant, banging his tankard into the table.
“Well, as it happens, my fortunes are also at a rather low ebb.”
“I would not have guessed it. Ye’re clad in new clothes, new boots, even a new hat.”
“Tis true. But I sit three thousand miles removed from my home, friends and fortune, bereft of proper employment. I have thought out scheme that can reverse both of our fortunes.”
“I am willing to hear it,” replied Oliphant, already wary. “But do not waste my time with speculations and projections. Do ye propose that I fill my hold with fine linens? For I can assure you the demand for such frippery is not half of what it was even five seasons ago.”
“Actually, I had in mind a rather more movable cargo. Men.”
“Indentured servants? Do you take me for a fool? No one cares to take them on any more, not when Negro Slaves can be had for but a few more pounds. The price would barely cover their passage.”
“I was speaking of slaves, to be had on the cheap. It is a bit more money upfront, but they’ll fetch twenty pounds on the dock in New York, and thirty in the Caribbean.”
“I am listening.”
“The King’s Lord President of Council has decided that it in the good King’s interest that that the Lord Advocate’s vigorous application of the death penalty to the many rebels and dissenters who have risen up of late be tempered. Accordingly, he has generously announced that the death sentences of all but the most notorious rebels be commuted. Above fifteen thousand prisoners have been distributed amongst a dozen of his Majesty’s staunchest supporters, and more distributions are being made every week. These prisoners are to be transported to His Majesty’s southern plantations, where they will be kept for a period of not less than ten year’s servitude before going free. I happen to have made the acquaintance of perhaps the King’s most fervent supporter, and I happened to know that he is willing to dispose of his lot for the trifling sum of five pounds a head.”
“I was not planning on voyaging to the Caribbean, but if what ye have told me is true, then such a trip might be too profitable to turn down. What is your price for your service?”
“Tis not great. Second mate on your ship, a two percent share of the profits.”
An hour later Kidd was the second mate on the Dunedin, with the promise of half a percent of the voyage’s profit. And the Dunedin would also be taking on an Ordinary Seaman by the name of Edward. Now all he had to do was make a trip to Linithgowshire to seal the deal. Though some part of Kidd would have preferred to venture beyond the Gates of Hell than again make the acquaintance of his business contact.
Fortes fortuna adiuvat.