Yours Is The Only Ocean

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

London felt like a different world to Miles. He hadn't been here for years. Not since sailing from the Caribbean. There had been a two week break in the capital for restocking, before setting sail for Portugal. Alongside him had been his friend Kipps. He'd been in the orphanage with Miles and Liam and went to sea at the same time. They'd all sailed together from time to time, and when Kipps had been in the West Indies he'd caught the eye of Sir Sam Smith, a rich merchant who'd fallen madly in love with him. It was easy to understand why. He was like Kitten and had that almost feminine beauty. He was small and dainty with the lightest blue eyes Miles had ever seen. Sir Sam had been captivated by him and sailed back to London with them and set Kipps up in a large house in Mayfair. He also got a generous allowance and membership of all the fashionable London clubs. In return he just had to promise not to fuck any other men.

Miles was staying in one of Kipps' many spare rooms, and it was good to be living amongst London's high society. It was like a proper version of what those provincial aristocrats in Cornwall aspired to be. Raine Turner would probably get eaten alive here.

He had been here two weeks and had achieved his main objective. He'd sold all the gold for four hundred pounds. He now had enough to pay for the repairs to The Opal and give Alex the money to repay his debt. Now all he needed was the money to buy his plantation.

Dressed in his best clothes, be visited Albert Hammond Jr, a broker in Swallow Street, who dealt with land sales all over the world. It felt strange for Miles, because this land would be the first legitimate thing he had ever bought. Respectability made him slightly nervous, like he was losing a part of himself, and even as he sat in Hammond's untidy office, where the man was flicking through his ledger book to find suitable properties, Miles felt somehow detached from it all. It was a weird feeling he'd had for a while now, like someone else was guiding his thoughts and actions, and it scared him. He had always been his own man.

"I have a very good piece of land here," Hammond said. "Trinidad. Sixty acres of land, the plantation is ready established with twenty slaves. The house is....."

"I don't want any slaves."

Hammond looked at him from under that bushy brow.

"I get your pardon?"

"I don't want any slaves. I want to employ freed slaves."

"You realise this is going to cost you considerably more money, and it comes with far more risks. They're free to leave and will expect better accommodation."

"Which I will provide them with."

"Such a shame. Just one thousand five hundred pounds."

"I still wouldn't buy it even if it was ten bob."

"Very well." Hammond sighed, continuing to flick through the book. "There is very little that fits your criteria."

"I'll just have to go elsewhere."

"No! I have one here. It is in Kingston, Jamaica. Thirty acres, a large house, apparently the owner of the plantation died without heirs, so it has been neglected somewhat. The sugar crop it would seem, is still healthy. It is currently looked after by the owner's closest friend, and he is selling for one thousand two hundred pounds"

Miles loved Kingston. It was a port, with comings and goings, and it was never boring. It didn't take much imagination to feel that warm sun upon his face, and hear the gentle lap of the sea on the white sands. No more crime, no more wondering if today was going to be his last......would he grow tired of it? He didn't know, but it would be nice to give the quiet life a try.