All we need do is send these few Spaniards packing, and this island could well be a gold mine.
"If you'll pardon me, Mister Briggs, I'll have to be going ashore now." Calvert nodded, then turned for the companionway.
"As you will, sir." Briggs glanced back at the island. "And if it's all the same, I think I'll be joining you. To take the measure of this fish we've snagged and see what we've got."
"You might do better to wait, Mister Briggs, till we've gained a clear surrender from the Spaniards."
"Well, sir, I don't see any Spaniards lurking about there on the plain." He headed down the companionway after Calvert. "I'm the civilian here, which means I've got responsibilities of my own."
"Hugh, are we going to just stand here and let these bastards rob us?" Katherine was angrily gripping her musket. "We took this fort, not Morris and his Roundheads."
Winston stood staring at the warships, his mind churning. Why the hell were they here? Cromwell had better things to do with his navy than harass a few Spanish planters.
Whatever they want, he vowed to himself, they'll damn well have to fight for it.
"'Tis the most cursed sight I e'er laid eyes on." Guy Bartholomew had moved beside them. "Mayhaps that rumor about some fleet trying Santo Domingo was all too true. An' when they fail'd at that, they decided to pillage Jamaica instead."
Next to him was Timothy Farrell, spouting Irish oaths down on the ships. "Aye, by the Holy Virgin, but whatever happen'd, I'll wager you this—it's the last we're like to see of any ransom for the town." His eyes were desolate. "The damn'd English'll be havin' it all. They've never heard of dividing a thing fair and square, that I promise you."