“Of the options you present, I prefer the latter, and I haven’t the imagination for another. I shall pass orders and wait for your command.”
* * * * *
Neville’s Return reached Little Inagua at three bells of the afternoon watch, not at dusk as Neville had hoped.
“We’ll sail to about half way between the islands before changing course, Mister Arnwell,” commanded Neville.
“They will certainly see where we go, Master.” Arnwell sounded concerned.
“All part of the plan, Mister Arnwell. The passage is but two leagues wide. We shall pass close on the southern tip of the island and should fly quickly nor’-west up the western shore if we stay out of her wind shadow. Once we round the nor’-wester point we must anchor and take down sail.”
“Take down sail?” asked Arnwell. He sounded even more concerned.
“Yes, of course. Our objective is to hide. We will be difficult to see if we have no sail abroad and are not moving. They will wonder where we have gone, of course, but I hope we can send a man up on land with a glass to watch them. What might you do if you were that pirate captain?”
“I would think Neville’s Return had got ‘round this point here,” he said, tapping his finger on a point on the north shore of Great Inagua, “and cracked on.”
“Exactly what we hope for, and I think it’s probably the only logical thing for him. With his fully square rig, tacking back here would be quite difficult. Once we see he has sailed a league or two to the west, we can continue around the northern point of Little Inagua. From there we will sail direct for the Windward Passage. Even if he sees us, he must go all around Great Inagua to return to his chase. Furthermore, he must be hard on the wind before reaching the Passage, and no longer have the advantage of a fair wind.”
“Aye, Master. Quite a scheme.”
“Make the course change in half a glass, if you please, Mister Arnwell.”
Neville busied himself for the next two hours with the disturbing log book he had found in his cabin. It contained little history, however, since the ship was quite new… records of fitting out and trial sails and the like. He felt the ship’s different motion as sails were changed to the new course. After searching the lockers for anything else of interest and finding nothing, he laid on his berth. Bathed in the tropical warmth of the room, he soon fell asleep.
A knock on his door awakened him. The light had changed, with the sun obviously near to setting.
“Come,” Neville commanded loudly. Another man unknown to Neville stepped inside the door and announced, “Five bells of the Dog Watch, Master. Mister Arnwell requests you step topside at your earliest convenience, if you please.”
Five bells? There’s no five… oh, yes there WAS. “Tell Mister Arnwell I’ll be along straight away.”
At the top of the companion stair, where Master Burton’s head reached above the deck, he saw Little Inagua to larboard about a league away. His head turned quickly aft, to see if the pirates were close behind, but he saw no ship. Neither could he see the opening between the two islands.
“There you are, Master,” Arnwell said. “We shall be rounding this point you see here to starb’rd in another half glass. I thought you might like to attend. We should be snug at anchor by the time the day goes dark.”
“Aye, we should, but…” Neville felt a sudden alarm… “We won’t be able to see whether he has followed or not.”
“What are your orders, Master?”
Neville pondered a moment. Do we stay the night, then, and find ourselves following him tomorrow, or not anchor at all? “We’ll not anchor,” he said, “but continue north along the nor’-west coast round the point and then sail south. There is no chance she could see us.”
* * * * *
“She’s coming on fast from the east,” Mister Shorte observed.
“And she’s close. We didn’t see her in the rising sun. She’s not the same ship who appeared to be following us. She appears much more like a merchant sloop,” remarked Neville to Arnwell. “We might have outrun the other, but with the wind as it is, and limited sea-room between us and Cuba, this one may have us. Change course as close as possible sou’-west.”
“Not much in it, Master. A few points is all. And we can only go a few more leagues before we’ll have to tack off Cuba.”
“Keep a close watch on the helm. Sail small. I’m going forward to take a better look at the set of the sails.”
Neville returned in a few minutes. “I complement you on your sailing, Mister Arnwell. I like your set, and we’re moving well. We can pray that bugger won’t catch us. He’s beating upwind, as we are, and we’re ahead.”
Nervous minutes passed, and Cuba neared, but the following ship came steadily on. “What on earth does she have?” queried Arnwell, “Extra wind?”
Neville stared for a few minutes though his glass and turned with a worried look to answer. “Mister Arnwell, I expect she’s in ballast, while we are fully loaded. Also, there are two dozen men sitting on the weather rail, holding the ship upright against the force of the wind in her sails. The result means faster and higher on the wind. Let’s come about now.”
Men began running at the sounds of Arnwell’s bellowing and the bo’sun’s whistle. Blocks and lines, and masts creaked and groaned. The ship soon rolled onto the other tack and gathered speed to the northwest. The pirates followed suit.
Within the hour, one of the chasing ship’s cannons blaster at them. The ball skipped once and fell with a splash not far from the bow of Neville’s Return. In the following hour, Neville ordered sheets released and the colors hauled down in surrender. He had no reason to endanger the lives of his men in a vain attempt to fight. The two ships sailed cautiously closer, until a large gang of unkempt men grappled them together.
* * * * *
“You know who I am, don’t you?” asked the obvious pirate-in-command who had swaggered aboard after the grapples were in place. “Does my description do me justice? I am the mighty Benjamin Hornigold, most famous of all pirates and leader of the Flying Gang, of which you have no doubt heard.”
Wearing a shoulder-length brown curly wig and a long, flamboyant coat of purple and red with gold trim and shining brass buttons, the man looked like illustrations in pirate books. He appeared to be in his late thirties. A sword hung at one hip, and a pistol at the other.
A strong south-west wind, running to the north of the Greater Antilles carried the two ships, lashed together with all sail furled. They drifted at one or two knots to the east, toward the rocks of Cuba, while their occupants talked. Or rather, the pirates talked and the captives listened.
The captives, those sixteen men of Neville’s Return, sat ‘round the center of the top deck. Most of the pirates stood, warily watching for suspicious activity, while others were searching their prey for anything valuable.
“Let me assuage your fears, though. Because you are civilized Americans, with a number of Englishmen among you, no doubt, I have no quarrel with you. You did not fire upon us. You’ve hurt none of us, and so you will not yourselves be harmed. We of the Pirate Republic, however, still need sustenance, although my men say you have little of value in your hold.”
Some of the men laughed, and some were obviously disgruntled at taking a ship with such little value.
“We will take your clothing, flour, cloth and simple tools, and you may go on as you wish.
“We also need a man, though, I must admit,” Hornigold continued, “Who among you is the carpenter?”
No captive responded.
“No carpenter? I can scarce believe it. Who does this fine woodwork? Shall I begin choosing, and throw each dead man over the side as he denies his profession?”
“We have no carpenter,” Neville said.
“You are the Master, aren’t you? You have the bearing of a Master. Why no carpenter?”
“The ship is in this fine condition, as you have noted, because she is new. We have no expectations on this voyage of losing
yards and masts or beams and boards so early in the ship’s life, so we have no need of a full-time carpenter.”
“Hmm,” Hornigold said. “Who makes the small repairs, then? Someone must know how to chip wood. Who is it? Speak up!”
“It – it - it’s me,” stammered Shorte, “but I’ll not go with ye. I have a wife and two children to support.”
“You can’t support them if ye’re a dead man, either, can you? We need your services, and you can go home a rich man in a few years. Come on, man – volunteer, and it will all go well with your mates.”
“He’ll not go,” Neville said. “I’ll go in his stead.”
Hornigold swaggered to where Neville sat, bent over towards his face, and asked, “Why do ye volunteer, Master?”
“To save our man Shorte. He’s a family man, and my duty is to my men and their families. I have neither.” …none of my lost loves.
“Duty? You sound like a bloody Navy man, always jabbering about duty this and duty that. I don’t think this ship needs two masters, either, do it, men? I favor the carpenter.”
“String him up,” some pirate in the back yelled.
“Do you have a doctor?” Neville asked calmly.
“Now you’re a doctor now?” Hornigold asked. His men around them went silent.
“I’ve seen enough, if you have supplies.”
“We ain’t have no doctor, no, but we’ve got the last one’s things – saws and leaves and potions, and a big book. You can read?”
“If it’s in English, French, or Spanish, yes.”
“Hrumph,” Hornigold said. “What’s it writ in, Jones?” he yelled over his shoulder.
A minute or two passed while the man called upon disappeared below decks to investigate the book. Hornigold stared at Neville for a moment before his attention turned to scrutinize the looting process. Jones’ head reappeared a moment later. “English,” he yelled.
“So, you’re in luck,” announced Hornigold to Neville.
“What do you think, men? We take him on as doctor?”
“Aye,” someone said. “Me mate needs him now. His arm’s gone all blotchy.” Neville’s stomach turned. He would need the book for this problem.
Several more men grunted their approval.
Hornigold turned to his men. “Tis done, then,” he announced. “Take what we need and cut this barge loose. Harm no one, unless he stands in your way; and you can leave Mister Chips with them. His master’s done an unusual Christian thing.”
Hornigold sent Neville below to fetch his belongings. He took only a minimal selection – his easy first impression that most of the pirates owned little more than they wore. He did not leave his dirk or pistol behind.
Not a half hour after Neville stepped across the gap separating the two ships, the sounds of transferring cargo from his ship to theirs ceased, and the noise of releasing grapples ensued. The pirates were obviously experts at emptying the bellies of their prey, detaching themselves from witnesses, and sailing away.
As the sails of Neville’s Return filled with the wind, a figure stepped to her rail.
“Give my regards to Elliott, Mister Arnwell,” Neville called. “Tell him not to worry.” I dare not say ‘father’, or this lot will look for ransom.
Arnwell saluted and turned from the rail to begin the work of sailing a poorer ship to Jamaica. It might at least be possible to book a return cargo from Jamaica, which at this point was closer than Norfolk. Regardless, all aboard would all be hungry by the time they reached their destination.
8: Nassau
“Follow me, Doctor,” ordered a typically wiry creature with sun-bronzed skin wearing ragged, sparse clothing. Neville recognized Mr. Jones, who spoke in a cheerful tone except for the word ‘doctor’, which he pronounced as though he didn’t believe the title belonged. “I’ll show you to sick bay,” he added with a sneering chuckle.
The ship’s below-decks held a jumble of the pirates’ booty. Most had been bagged and tied well enough to keep it from sliding about in a high sea, but not much more. “Here it is,” the man said, indicating a small, dirty open area in the aft center of the ship. “This chest here is all the doctor’s things, and that rathole there is your quarters. Do enjoy your stay, mi’lord.”
He stood grinning, as if expecting a gratuity. “Where’s the book?” Neville asked.
“In the chest,” said Jones. He went off chuckling again.
Neville fished out the doctor’s book, took a cursory review of what other items the chest contained, and let the lid slam shut. Looking ‘round, he saw no better seat than the chest itself, and so perched himself upon it and began to study. He first searched for a remedy for the case he’d already heard of: the blotchy arm. He knew full well if he couldn’t perform, he would be cheerfully hung, fed to the sharks, or worse.
Neville knew something of the medicine of the day. Other than the art of mixing potions and poultices, and the experience to have some idea of what worked and what didn’t, most of the ‘science’ could be observed by anyone who paid attention. Fortunately, he had spent a bit of time working with Dr. Mills on his first cruise as a midshipman. And unfortunately, he had spent some time on the patient side of the encounter with doctors. He had learned something of splinting due to his first bad wound – a seriously broken leg resulting from the explosion of a cannon on St. Christopher Island. His second experience, all received during the Battle at Trafalgar, included a large splinter in his right arm, crushed chest, and being stabbed through by a French sword. This latter landed him in the Navy’s hospital at Gosport, where he saw more than anyone but a nurse or doctor would wish to observe of the medical profession.
Neville’s study was rewarded the next day. Jones appeared before him while he ate his breakfast of burgoo and one fresh egg. “Captain wants you on deck, Doctor,” said Jones. “Bring your medical eyes.”
At the top of the main companion stair Neville found a crowd of men surrounding a single man sitting upon a cask by the mainmast. Hornigold stood by him, doing his best to look important. “Ah, doctor,” he said, “Come join us, and see to your first patient, Mister Holwin, here.”
It appeared that Holwin was the man reported the previous day as the “mate with the blotchy arm”. Like most of the others, he was a sinewy fellow, muscular and dark-haired. His shirt had been removed, displaying the blotchy arm. Moreover, half his body showed raised pink blotches. Neville was on trial.
Neville walked over to him, took an arm, and tapped on a few of the blotches. “Does it hurt?” he asked. “No, doctor,” said the man, “but it itches something awful.”
“All of it, or just some places?” He held out his arm showing one place near his wrist where he’d been scratching. “All of it, but some worse than others.”
I think I know what this is. I’ve read the right part of the book, I pray. But I have an opportunity for some showmanship here. “Did you eat anything unusual?” he asked.
The question clearly made the man nervous. He looked ‘round at his fellow pirates, who were almost always hungry, while blurting, “Where would I get any more?” he asked. “My rations is same as every other man’s”
“What did you do on my ship? The one where I came from?”
“What Bo’sun told me. I carried the master’s private stores over here for Captain Hornigold.”
“Did the stores include a bag of nuts?”
“I got no bag of nuts,” interrupted Hornigold.
Holwin’s face turned red. “I ‘et ‘em,” he admitted. They was strange nuts. Not like proper walnuts from ‘ome. I ‘et ‘em, though, shell and all.” He lowered his head.
“That’s it, then,” Neville said. “Those things – ground nuts, they call them – come from the Carolinas… grow in the ground, not on trees. Did you eat the whole bag?”
“Aye,” Holwin said simply. He heard the grumbling emanating from his mates for taking food that should have been shared, and probably of the wrath of his captain for taking something Ho
rnigold considered his.
“You’re lucky, Mister Holwin. Some people die from eating them. Since you’re still with us, I’d say you won’t.”
“I might have had you put off on some island, Holwin, but I find I must thank you for saving me the same distress,” Hornigold said. “Ha, ha. I hope you enjoyed them. He’s got his just reward, ain’t he men?” Laughing and catcalling ensued.
“Well, Doctor?” said Holwin, “Have you something for me blotchy skin?”
“I might,” Neville answered. “This is serious, and I don’t know all muchwhat your old doctor has in his chest.” Ho, ho, this fool deserves it for eating my nuts, so I’ll leave him scared for a while. It will go away soon enough by itself, so I don’t really have to do anything. But maybe I can put on some salve for the itching and look like a hero to the rest of them. What other punishment can I give the cur?
“Right, then, Mister Holwin,” he said, “you’d best put your shirt on and go below. Stay out of the sun, and no alcohol for two days. I’ll go research whether there is a poultice I can make (something really foul, I think). It might take an hour. I’ll find you.”
Neville turned to Hornigold. “I’ll be in sick bay,” he said, and walked off.
* * * * *
Neville’s impression of Nassau, from what he observed as the Ranger slowly entered the bay, was of disorganized squalor. He saw no attempt whatever at cultivating anything.
The best of the buildings were constructed of wood but they were old, dilapidated, and looked as though they had been burned at least once. They formed the most organized section of what had been a real town. No established streets were evident, and what paths there were had been allowed to overgrow with bushes.
The Delirium Passage Page 5
