Devil's Ballast

by Meg Caddy

  Martin Read noticed as well.

  The tall man had been sitting with a knot of sailors but now he unfolded and walked, stooped, across the mess. He was still holding his bowl in one hand. He planted a hand on the cabin boy’s shoulders and steered him around to the front of the line. Barnet saw panic flash across the boy’s face; he must have known the crew wouldn’t be pleased.

  ‘Give the boy a fair helping,’ Barnet heard Read tell the cook. He clapped the cabin boy’s shoulder and tipped the remains of his own meal into the lad’s bowl. ‘There.’

  Angry stirrings from the other men waiting in line. Barnet shook his head. He understood the impulse but it would cause more trouble for the lad in the end. And for Read. The meal passed in a subdued lull but when the cabin boy stood to go about his duties, three other men finished their meals and climbed the companionway after him. Read, unhurried, scraped his plate and followed. He looked calm but as he climbed onto the deck Barnet saw him take a belaying pin from its place.

  ‘Bosun.’

  The boatswain, Hutch—Thomas Hutchinson—swallowed his mouthful and hastened to Barnet’s side. ‘Sir.’

  ‘Let them rough the lads up a bit. Then halt the fight and punish them accordingly. No major damage, do you understand?’

  ‘Sir.’ The sound of fighting already clattered about the deck. Barnet did not approve of such displays but he hoped it would knock some sense into Read. There was a thud and the cabin boy yelped.

  ‘Enough now, boys.’ Hutch’s voice rang out over the scuffle. Someone shouted. Barnet listened for Read’s voice but could not make it out.

  He straightened his jacket and went to the companionway, ready to survey the scene. He made his way briskly up the steps and pulled himself into the dying light of the day.

  Two men were on the ground and a third was being hauled up by the bosun. They were bleeding and battered—one cradled his wrist against his chest. The cabin boy crouched between the mainmast and a barrel, one eye already swelling shut but otherwise unharmed.

  And there stood Read. Straight-backed, ruffled but proud, his eyes blazing and his knuckles bloodied. Ignoring Barnet, he took a step towards the other three men. His voice was silken and low. ‘I won’t stand for cowards,’ he said. ‘Leave the boy alone.’

  Barnet could have intervened but something stopped him. Perhaps he had misjudged something about Martin Read. He was not given to doubt, but for a moment he wavered, uncertain how to proceed.

  ‘Enough.’

  The men turned. Read was the last to face him, defiance tightening his features.

  ‘I should have you flogged for such a display on my ship,’ Barnet said. He studied them a moment more. Then he set his jaw. ‘Get below. You’re all on dog-watch until we reach Cuba. Move.’ The men skirted past him. He caught Read’s shoulder as the man went by. ‘Not you.’

  They waited until the other men went by. Barnet could feel Read’s shoulder tense under his hand, ready to shrug him off.

  ‘I must confess I am impressed, Read,’ he said. ‘I expected those men to beat you bloody.’

  ‘I have seen war and worse,’ Read said, and now he did shrug. Barnet removed his hand. ‘I will not sit idle and watch grown men beat a youngster.’

  Barnet nodded. ‘You have some honour to you, Read,’ he admitted, ‘and you are a fine sailor. If you temper your insolence and accept command, you could do well on my crew. You might even find yourself an officer before too long.’

  Read’s features were blank. Carefully so, Barnet thought. Was he masking contempt or ambition? He pressed on.

  ‘I want to see more from you, Read. You will have a chance to prove yourself when we apprehend John Rackham and his crew. Bear it in mind, and do not disappoint me.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ Read said at last. Barnet waited for more. More words, more gratitude, something other than that calm quiet across the tall man’s face.

  ‘Dismissed,’ he said after a while, when he realised Read was done talking. Read nodded politely, turned on his heel and went below. Barnet was left on the deck, perplexed by the other man’s attitude. As a young man, he would have been glad to have his captain’s approval. He remembered volunteering for the dog-watch for weeks on end, just to make himself useful. Well, that and to catch the eye of…

  He stopped himself. Thinking of her brought no joy, even after so many years. He refused to dwell on shadows of the past.

  There was work to do.

  7

  BONNY

  During months at sea, only catching slim moments of privacy, Calico and I had perfected the art of sneaking around. After a short time together on the dark beach, we righted our clothes, brushed the sand away from one another, and he went back to the crew and fire. I stayed as I was, knowing to wait a good hour more before I joined him. He would tell the crew he had left me to stew over it on the beach. I would collect palm fronds and other kindling for the fire and come back sullen and rebellious. Calico would ignore me for a day or so.

  I drew patterns in the sand, lazy and comfortable. The nights were warm and peaceful. It was the dry season, so we didn’t have to worry about hurricanes or wild storms, or the humid mugginess of the wet season. It was a blessed relief to be off the ship too, away from the stifling confines of the lower decks and the sun-baked swelter above. I knew we would only be on the island for a short while but it was enough to sit on solid ground.

  I must have dozed for a short while. I found myself leaning against a tree with a crick in my neck; whatever time had passed I was probably due to head back to the camp. I didn’t rush, stooping every few steps to gather palm fronds and old coconut husks. I kept to the fringe of the beach and enjoyed the cool push of the breeze.

  ‘All alone, Bonny?’

  In the space of a breath Sedlow had my shoulders and someone had my feet and I couldn’t twist out of their grip. I struggled and craned. Sedlow’s thick arm went about my neck. Someone’s hold slipped, dropping me to the side. My face pressed into the crook of Sedlow’s arm and I bit hard. He dropped me. One of the men still had my legs—my torso flopped down, sending a spasm of pain through my back. Sand in my mouth. They dragged me. I glanced off a rock and the world shook. Sedlow grunted and grabbed me under the arms.

  They were taking me to the water.

  The realisation paralysed me for a poisonous moment. Then I opened my mouth, filled my lungs to shriek. Sedlow’s big hand clapped over my mouth. I bucked and thrashed. We reached the waves and they slipped once more, this time letting my legs drop. I bent at the knees, tried to push up and back. One thought splintered in my mind: They don’t need deep water to drown me.

  Someone pushed me down. A heavy hand held the back of my neck and another twisted in my hair. I didn’t have time to close my mouth. Saltwater rushed me, burning my eyes, my nose, my throat. They hauled me up as I spluttered and choked, then water engulfed me again. This time when they dragged me to the surface Sedlow leaned down to speak in my ear.

  ‘No one here to step in this time. You showed me up, Bonny. It won’t happen again.’

  Even if I’d had the wit to answer, I didn’t have the breath. My lungs ached. I tried to bring my hands up to loosen Sedlow’s grip on me but one of his other cronies locked my arms behind my back. They ducked me again, pushing my face into the water. My nose hit the sand. Pain exploded in front of my eyes.

  James stood in the doorway. He swayed like a man at sea, holding a jug in one hand. I drew away from the centre of the room and shrank into a corner. Lurching in, he slapped the jug down onto the table and dropped into a chair. His red-rimmed eyes found me in the gloom.

  ‘I never should have married you,’ he slurred. ‘Nothing but bad luck since.’

  All my life I’d been quick-tongued but I didn’t dare run my mouth at him. I had nowhere else to go, no one to turn to.

  ‘Come here,’ he said.

  I climbed to my feet. There was no point delaying the inevitable. He was a strong man and the streets of Na
ssau were deadly at night.

  ‘Things will get better,’ I said, treading soft across the dirt floor of the hut. ‘We’ve only been here a few weeks. Give it time—’

  He broke my nose.

  And then, just like that, they let me go. I fell limp in the water. It took everything to push myself to my hands and knees. The waves battered me. I coughed and spat sand and blood into the water. Sedlow kicked me and I dropped again. They left me then, shaking and silent in the waves, gasping like a hooked fish. I couldn’t hear the sea over the rasp and whistle of my own breath. Slowly, biting on pain, I crawled to dry sand and rolled onto my back.

  The stars seemed to swim in a rippling sky. Slowly, feeling came back to my hands and feet. I breathed from my stomach and when I could, I went back to the water and washed the blood, snot and tears from my face. I took off my breast-bindings and focused on taking air into my abused lungs.

  My limbs stopped shaking.

  The wild panic faded, leaving a weather-smoothed stone of anger.

  Most of the men had sauced themselves to sleep by the time I returned to the camp. They sprawled across the sand in their breeches, empty jugs nearby. Sedlow and his boys were on the other side of the camp. They watched me as I came in. Sedlow sat back, a smug smile hitched to his lips. He knew I wouldn’t say anything to Calico. I was many things, but not a rat.

  I looked to find my captain but he was asleep. Had he even noticed I was missing? Dawn would soon be upon us. Had he worried? Stared at the trees, waiting for my return? I set my jaw. Obviously not. But there’d be fewer questions this way.

  I sank down at the base of a tree and pulled my bag over.

  ‘Bonny.’

  Spitting out a curse, I jumped to the side. It took me a moment to realise it was Isaac who had spoken. He sat with his back against a barrel. I had forgotten Isaac would be awake. The man’s dreams were troubled.

  We stared at one another. Then Isaac’s eyes flicked in Sedlow’s direction. Shame prickled through me. I knew what I must have looked like. Wet, bedraggled, bruised. Still bleeding from my nose, no matter how many times I swiped it away. Pathetic.

  ‘Go back to sleep, Isaac,’ I said, dropping onto my side and rolling over. Nothing was broken but everything hurt and I couldn’t shake the ghost of fear. My stomach threatened to rebel. My mind was stuck behind me—not in the wild moments when I thought Sedlow would drown me, but in Nassau. In the wooden shack I had shared with James Bonny for those two dark years.

  I wanted to go to Calico, to let him chase away the memories with his warmth and saltwater kisses. I wanted to scold him for not caring I was gone so long, and I wanted him to make it right. I wanted him.

  And I couldn’t help but think maybe that was a weakness in itself.

  For the next two days Sedlow didn’t spare me so much as a glance. That angered me more than anything. He knew he’d won.

  My muscles were locked and sore, my bruises angry and swollen in the pale light of the morning. It was warm already but I pulled on my short-coat to cover my arms; I didn’t want to wear the badge of my humiliation for everyone to see.

  I avoided Calico and kept close to Old Dad as we careened the two ships. He and I had the task of fixing the heads of the Ranger, which we had pulled up onto the beach during high tide. There was loose planking and the lads had been complaining about it since Jamaica. As it was no one ever felt more vulnerable than when they were using the heads: a small hollowed box at the bow of the ship with a clear drop to the ocean below. On rough days the ocean could come right up through it, which had the advantage of washing your arse clean, but you couldn’t say it was the most comfortable place to empty your bowels.

  The smell there was foul. Collecting wood and shaping it on the beach was good work but hanging upside-down in a shit hole, prying out the old, stained planks, was more than my stomach could take. Dad tried to distract us both by talking about his old captain. He and Calico had both sailed under a man named Charles Vane but Calico had led a mutiny when Vane’s courage failed and they lost a prize because of it. I delighted in these morsels of information about Calico’s life before me. I felt like a naughty child, sneaking food that somehow tasted better for being stolen.

  About halfway through, my stomach finally rebelled, and I had to shuffle away from the work and empty my belly into a bush. I kicked sand over it and waited for it to settle, then ate some hardtack and joined the others to help clear the camp.

  Calico stamped out the remaining embers of the fire. I felt his eyes on me as I worked. I knew he wanted me to meet his gaze but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’d been avoiding him since Sedlow and his boys jumped me. Flashes of the attack came at me now. All alone, Bonny? The sea and the sand. Pain and panic. I ground my teeth.

  ‘I’m assigning you to the Kingston for the final leg to Cuba.’ He spoke the words like a peace offering. I gathered the pans Paddy Carter had used for the dinner. ‘You can swap with Carter.’

  It was all I had wanted since we took the Kingston in the first place. But I took one glance at Sedlow and knew it would give him satisfaction.

  I spoke low in case anyone was listening in. ‘I’m fine where I am.’

  Sedlow shouldered his way past Old Dad, made some comment to him. I didn’t hear the words but I figured it was something unpleasant. Old Dad said nothing but his face settled into a taut smile.

  ‘I want to stay on the Ranger,’ I said.

  Calico straightened and faced me. Confusion deepened the furrow between his brow. I wondered if he felt hurt. A small part of me hoped he did.

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  The rest of the crew walked ahead of us, moving down to the beach. Calico took advantage of the onshore breeze, speaking quietly so no one else could hear.

  ‘What happened the other night? You were gone a long time.’

  ‘Don’t you concern yourself, Jack.’

  ‘You’re concerning me.’

  ‘I have things to take care of.’

  He grabbed my arm. Old fear flashed through me and it was all I could do not to hit him. As it was I shrugged him off and took a step back.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘What’s changed?’

  ‘Nothing’s changed, captain.’ I sharpened my voice, used it to fend him off. If Sedlow suspected anything lay between Calico and me, he’d turn it against us both. I had enough to worry about without that. For now, I would have to keep Calico at arm’s length.

  He opened his mouth to argue or appeal but one of the men called back to him, asking about watch schedules. He wavered, torn, then left me and joined the rest of the crew. I didn’t see him again until we were both on our separate ships. Once the capstan was turned and the anchor was weighed I caught a glimpse of him, standing at the stern of the Kingston while they sailed ahead of us. I leaned on the railing. If I’d had any sort of heart at all I would have waved to him, blown a kiss, risked being found out in order to let him know all was well between us.

  Instead I turned away and went below.

  8

  BONNY

  The men on the ship knew me as a cocky little bastard but I had no illusions about my size or strength. I had a good eye and good balance, and I was nimble. I could hold my own with Dobbin and Harwood. It didn’t mean much against men twice my weight, with a good head and shoulders on me. Men who had me outnumbered.

  I took stock of the crew on the Ranger: Dobbin and Harwood, Corner, Isaac, Sedlow, a small knot of Sedlow’s boys and myself. I didn’t like those odds. Sedlow and his boys were obviously a danger to me. Dobbin and Harwood would be too busy larking about and pissing off the side of the ship to be much help. Corner was a decent fellow but he was the quartermaster and couldn’t be seen to take sides in crew disputes. That left me with Isaac. He’d stepped between me and Sedlow before, but he also liked to keep his hands clean. And I knew better than to presume his friendship with Calico extended as far as me.

  If I had been to
o hasty in refusing Calico’s offer, I didn’t let the thought cloud my mind for long. I needed to take Sedlow to task.

  And after all, there were a thousand ways a man could die at sea.

  I waited until Sedlow and his boys were drunk. We weren’t supposed to indulge in hard drink at sea but Calico was on the other ship. The seas were good, Isaac was on the helm, and there was no sight of Jonathan Barnet and the Albion. The lads didn’t need much encouragement to take to the brew. Only Isaac stayed on his task. He said he wasn’t in the mood to drink and dice, but I had a feeling he was trying to avoid Sedlow’s crowd. I sympathised.

  I made do with small beer—watered down until it wasn’t much more than a tickle on my tongue. I played it up though, letting my voice get loud and brash. Dobbin and Harwood drank against one another, getting stupider as the evening grew. Harwood got loud when he was drunk and Dobbin got competitive. Sedlow was just as bad and I thanked God briefly for his arrogance. As far as he was concerned I had been put in my place. He didn’t have to worry about me anymore.

  Corner put a stop to the drinking when Isaac sounded eight bells for midnight, prompting a loud chorus of complaints. The lads didn’t have much fight in them, though, and one by one they made their way to the orlop to sleep, or to the open deck to sprawl themselves across the boards. One or two others stumbled to the heads, the combination of rough fare and rougher grog enough to upset their stomachs one way or another. Sedlow wouldn’t be long, I was pretty sure. Before the drinking started I’d smeared his mug with rat-rotted bilge water.

  Now I crouched in the shadow of the wooden barrier built around the heads. It didn’t give much by way of privacy but I was small enough to make myself unseen in the cover of night. I waited, thighs burning. Eyes burning too, from the smell. It didn’t matter. I could wait there all night if I had to, hoping Sedlow’s mug-lining would loosen his bowels.

  I’d almost given up hope when Sedlow lurched into the heads, shoving poor Dobbin out. Still struggling to drag up his breeches, Dobbin threw half-hearted curses in the big man’s direction and stumbled away. I listened for the creak of the boards. Heard a quiet grunt.