Flint and Silver

by John Drake

  "An' he didn't?"

  "Isn't that what I said?"

  "So… are you saying that Flint's fancy don't turn that way?"

  "Huh! Why don't you ask him."

  "Well, shiver me timbers - Joe Flint's a navigator of the windward passage."

  "John! You get on board o' that ship… and no, he isn't."

  "How'd you know?"

  "I know!" She did too. Flint hadn't been quite as careful in his drilling of peep-holes, nor as silent in his lechery, as he'd imagined. Enough gasping and groaning had come through the bulkhead to tell Selena a lot more about him than ever he suspected. But she wisely decided that this was not a good time to let Long John into the secret.

  Nonetheless they each had a splinter under the fingernail: she with her fears and he with his jealousy, and there was plenty else for them to argue about over the decision to separate. So they bickered and snapped, nastily and pointlessly, and both grew angry and shouted. Insults were exchanged and tempers lost, and, being so angry, neither could say to the other the three words that would have healed all wounds and given comfort during the weeks to come.

  So they parted badly, with Long John going across to his command, taking just under half the men with him. As agreed, one of them was Billy Bones, who had emerged from Flint's cabin after a conversation every bit as fraught as Long John's with Selena.

  "I ain't going," Billy Bones had mumbled, hanging his head and fiddling with his hat. His reaction to Pew's compromise was pitiful to see, and he pleaded to stay with Flint like a child begging to be let into its parents' bed at midnight for fear of the bogeyman.

  "Brace up, Billy Bones!" snapped Flint. "Find some backbone and do your duty! Look at Silver, you fool. He's worst pleased than you are!" It was true, but that only frightened Billy Bones all the more. Flint heaved a sigh and pointed to a chair.

  "Billy-boy, just put your enormous backside to anchor and contrive to hold your tongue."

  Billy Bones grumbled and cursed, and plumped down, purple-faced, as he'd been told, while Flint sat facing him on the upholstered bench that ran across the cabin at the stern windows.

  "I won't go. Gut and bugger me if I will!" said Billy Bones, but he took care to say it very quietly, almost to himself. Flint heard, nonetheless.

  "Billy," said Flint, starting half out of his seat, with white clear all around the pupils of his eyes, "not a word… not one… word!"

  Billy Bones gulped in fright, and twisted his hat like a housemaid wringing a dishcloth. There was much that Billy Bones wanted to say. He was terrified of what would happen to him under Silver's command, let alone from Silver's men. Still, he was a damn sight more afraid of Flint, and it was Flint he had to deal with just now.

  "So," said Flint, settling back with a broad smile on his face, "shipmate… messmate… Billy-my-chicken… In this world of pain and sorrow, we many times have to do that which, given free choice, we would not do. And when that happens, a wise man makes the best of things, and he clasps to his bosom such advantages as he has." Flint paused and contemplated Billy Bones's puzzlement. "Do you follow the argument, Billy-boy?"

  "No," said Bones, and Flint sighed heavily, like a man who has laboured mightily to see virtue in a particularly stupid bulldog, which is ugly, dirty and foul-smelling but occasionally useful for frightening burglars.

  "We must concentrate our minds, Mr Bones," said Flint, "on the fact that Silver has you, and I have Selena. That's one-for-one." Flint saw the puzzlement deepen on Billy Bones's heavy face. Bones, loyal to Flint in all things, had contrived not to notice what most others - and certainly Blind Pew - had noticed concerning Silver's attitude to Selena, and hers towards him. Billy still staunchly believed that Selena was Flint's, and Flint could see the question that he dared not ask.

  "You… need… not…worry… your… thick… skull… about… that," said Flint, leaning across and beating time with his knuckles on Billy Bones's brow. Aside from John Silver, any other man who did that would have found his entrails round his neck and his balls hanging from his ears. But Billy Bones took it like a lamb. He knew Flint.

  "Aye-aye, Cap'n," was all he said.

  "Good man," said Flint, and pulled Billy Bones's nose. "Now then, Billy-boy, can you swim?"

  "No, Cap'n," said Billy Bones, and his face went greasy- white as he cringed before this new terror.

  "Hmm…" said Flint thoughtfully. "But no doubt even you would float if buoyed up with sufficient cork." Billy Bones shifted and frowned at these words. He sailed mortal uneasy upon this tack for he was dreadfully afraid of sharks. Flint grinned at him and laughed. "Never fear, Billy Bones," he said. "But pay close attention. This is what you must do…"

  In due course, Billy Bones's battered old chest with the initial 'B' burned into the lid in poker-work, was hoisted over the side and into a boat, and he and it were rowed across to the brig Susan Mary, which Silver promptly re-named Lion. Of the remains of her original crew, two died of their scurvy that same day, while two survived and were persuaded to become gentlemen of fortune. One only - the captain himself - refused to be turned from what he perceived as his duty, and so he was put in irons awaiting a suitable landfall for marooning.

  He too died a few days later, despite all Surgeon Cowdray's efforts in feeding him fresh fruit and greens, and for those few days this honest shipmaster thought himself an ill-used and miserable man. But he was merry as a bishop in a bawdy house compared to Billy Bones, whose world was in ruins, and who pondered constantly upon the memory of better days. He groaned in fear of Silver and shuddered at the thought of Flint's orders, for he didn't know which was worse.

  Nor did he know the worst. As Billy Bones was rowed across to Lion, looking back longingly at his beloved master lifting his hat in smiling farewell, that gentleman was making further plans.

  Ah! Billy-my-Billy, thought Flint, there's long weeks of sailing ahead for you, and all of it on the wide blue ocean. And there's yourself that's never had sole responsibility of navigation, and it always was a wonder, that you could multiply two times two and get the same answer every time.

  Flint smiled as he relished the warmth of his thoughts. So, Billy-boy, what if you was to lose sight of Walrus in the night? What if you wasn't able to keep up? What if you was to get lost entirely, and never find land, and the whole unfortunate crew of you - and dear Mr Silver, too - was to be entered among the hosts of the Lost and Drowned? Why…in that case there'd be seventy less to share the goods!

  He laughed merrily and called across the water. "Goodbye, Mr Bones! And good luck!"

  "Goodbye, Cap'n," replied Billy Bones, and came close to weeping in the bitter sorrow of parting.

  * * *

  Chapter 30

  25th July 1752

  Aboard Lion

  The Southwest Atlantic

  The brig Susan Mary, now to be known as Lion, was smaller than Walrus and had all the differences below decks in terms of cabins, provision for storage, depth of the hold, et cetera, with which the individual shipwright shows the world that he can do his work better than any other. So there was a considerable bother of cursing and complaining among Captain Silver's men as they moved into their new home. Nothing was quite like what they'd been used to, and each thought the others were depriving him of the cosiest berth and the snuggest corner.

  As soon as he got aboard, Israel Hands, who had been Flint's gunner and was now Long John's, elbowed and cuffed his way into a cabin, declared it his own as a senior officer in this commission, posted his mate to guard it, and went to examine the planked wooden cupboard that passed for a magazine aboard this ship. There was just room for him to get inside of it and sit down upon a bench facing a table with rows of pigeonholes above it.

  Israel Hands sucked his teeth philosophically. So it had come to this. Israel Hands, who'd once served aboard ships where the magazines held cartridges for twenty-four-pounders, and ninety-pound powder kegs stood shoulder to shoulder in rows, was reduced to this. Ah well, he thought, at le
ast there was a magazine: a proper place set aside for the powder, and lit through a double-glass window by a lantern burning outside. And there was a proper door to it, so that the gunner might keep out lubbers who'd otherwise wander in with lighted pipes in their mouths and blow the ship to splinters.

  For that matter, there was plenty of powder aboard too, for the ship's cargo of plantation goods included a dozen thirty-pound powder kegs - far more than the ship herself needed with her pop-gun battery.

  He cocked his head and listened to them on the deck above his head, fighting over where they should sling their hammocks. He grinned at the thought of the bruises and broken heads. None of that need trouble Israel Hands now. He was third man in the ship, after only Long John and Billy Bones. So he grinned and began to examine the flannel cartridges for the four-pounders which were Lion's main battery.

  He was thorough in the work, which he did mainly by touch, taking the fat sausages of powder out of their pigeonholes and running his fingers up and down their seams, feeling for leaks. He didn't trust any other man to do the job. Israel Hands was greedy and violent, and there was a certain depravity within him or he'd never have been where he was today, but he was also a careful and diligent man, or he'd never have been rated as gunner - a job which punished slackness by the loss of the entire ship in one great thundering roar.

  He thought over what had happened, particularly the split between Flint and Silver. What an amazing piece of luck it had been that they'd found the brig when they did. Otherwise there would have been one or two aboard Walrus whose livers would have been tickled while they slept, for that was the way Israel Hands preferred to do business, what with its being such a safe and quiet way. Given the choice, Israel Hands would have started with Billy Bones, because he kissed Flint's bum-hole every day of the week and twice on Sundays. And now Billy-boy was first mate under Silver! There was a turn of events, and no mistake.

  In all, seventy men and three boys came across with Long John into Lion. Mostly the men were from the old East India days, when they'd been shipmates under Captain Mason; these included Blind Pew, whom Silver had asked for despite his part in the recent debate, for he was still a better sailmaker than his mates. Every spare sail from Lion's lockers was being brought up and bent to the masts to replace those shredded by the sea, and more would have to be made.

  Among the rest who chose to go with Silver was a small group who'd been with Flint aboard Elizabeth: George Merry, Tom Allardyce, and Israel Hands himself. This was a little victory for Long John Silver, since not one of his old East India shipmates had stayed aboard Walrus under Flint. Israel Hands paused briefly in his work. Silver was an odd bugger for a pirate, what with his articles and his "gentlemen of fortune" and his sparing of prisoners and women.

  Israel Hands knew more about this than most, for his own father, after whom he was named, had served under Black- beard forty years ago when it had been butchery on all sides and no quarter asked or given. Israel Hands shrugged his shoulders and reached for another cartridge. Silver might be lily-livered, but his ways meant the crew pulled together. Besides, Israel's father had been lamed for life by Blackbeard firing off a pair of pistols under the table just for fun: exactly the sort of mad game Flint enjoyed. It was one more reason why Israel Hands preferred Silver.

  When he'd finished with the cartridges and set aside a few he wasn't happy with, Israel Hands locked the magazine and went on deck to look at his guns. Silver and Billy Bones were getting her under way in Walrus's wake, and men were running in all directions making sail.

  Israel Hands went over to the nearest gun and knelt beside it for a close look. He was pleased to see that it was of the same quality as everything else about this sweet little vessel. It was an English-made iron gun, quite new, with a good carriage and fittings, and in all respects shipshape and fit for service. There was shot in the racks and a fresh cartridge ready in the waterproof locker by the gun. A neat wooden tompion kept wet out of the muzzle, and a sheet of lead was lashed over the touch hole, while rammers, crows and a linstock were secured nearby.

  "Aye," muttered Israel Hands, "pretty enough to look at, but only four-pounders and too few of you." Lion mounted just eight of these guns and the one bright star in Israel Hands's night was the Spanish nine, that by grovelling pleading before Long John, he'd got shipped aboard of Lion, along with its carriage and tackles, though these parts were lying in the hold waiting for the carpenter to find time to cut a port into the bow, though the tiny fo'c'sle was already crammed with bowsprit, catheads and other fittings to the point that even Israel Hands admitted to himself there was no room in the bow for a gun of that size.

  He admitted it to himself but thought it wise not to mention it to anyone else, for he wasn't going to be separated from his darling for so small a thing as that, especially considering the unpleasant and unavoidable fact that Lion was seriously under-gunned in comparison with Walrus.

  "Mr Hands!" a voice calling his name brought Israel Hands out of his contemplation. It was Silver himself. "A word, Mr Hands." Israel Hands stood up and walked slowly towards the quarterdeck, conscious of his dignity as gunner before the common crew.

  "At the double, you idle bastard!" roared Silver, his face like thunder. Israel Hands jumped and ran up the ladder and presented himself. From the look on Silver's face, he judged it expedient to salute, navy-fashion, and take off his hat.

  Silver and Billy Bones were side by side, and Silver was now dressed in a long blue coat and cocked hat, just like Billy Bones, except that Silver's hat and coat were newer, less faded, and better than Billy Bones's. Since Long John had never had such a coat before, Israel Hands guessed - correctly - that Mr Bones had been required to give up his spare suit of clothes so that Captain Silver might not look less of an officer than his first mate.

  Both Silver and Billy Bones were in the foulest of tempers and clearly itching to find a man to discharge their anger upon. Israel Hands vowed that he would not become that man. He stood to rigid attention and answered with the uttermost politeness and subordination.

  "Now see here, you lubber," said Silver, frowning tremendously upon Israel Hands.

  "Aye-aye, sir!" said Israel Hands, staring straight in front of his face, arms plumb down by his sides.

  "You've been used to festering in your bed all night when it comes to a blow," said Silver.

  "Aye-aye, sir!" said Israel Hands, finding tears to weep, for it was true. A master gunner did not stand watches, nor turn out when "All hands" was piped. It was a dearly beloved privilege of his rank, and he could guess what was coming next.

  "Well, you can belay all that, you lazy sod!" said Silver. "You shall stand watch-and-watch with me and Mr Bones, here, d'you understand? You're less use than a turd in a teapot, but you're the only bugger we've got, and we must make shift." Silver and Billy Bones peered intently at Israel Hands. For once they were united in a common cause: that of avoiding twelve-hour watches on deck.

  "So," said Silver, "are you man enough for the work, Mr Hands? Don't worry about quadrants and dividers -" he turned to Billy Bones "- Mr Bones shall set our course to Flint's island. Either that or we'll follow in Flint's wake. But we must have another man to stand watches." Pausing only briefly to consider what would happen should he say no, Israel Hands forced out his answer.

  "Aye-aye, sir!" he said, though his heart was breaking. But it would just have to break. He knew that Billy Bones was furious at being taken away from Flint, while Silver was mad jealous over Flint's black girl, and couldn't bear the thought of Flint ramming and boarding her whenever he pleased. Israel Hands didn't dare anger either of these fearful men, let alone both together.

  "Aye-aye, sir," mocked Silver. "And you can start by standing watches together with me and Mr Bones until you learn enough of the business not to lose the ship."

  Fortunately Israel Hands didn't lose the ship. And in a week or two he became a passably competent watch-keeping officer: not gifted, but sufficient for the purpose. A
nd Billy Bones didn't lose the ship either, and nor did he lose Walrus, though he frequently remarked on how much sail she was carrying, and how she forged ahead of Lion:

  "You'd think the bugger was trying to leave us behind!" he said on one occasion, training his glass on the schooner as her topmen set the t'gallants in a strong blow. "What's Flint doing, carrying that much sail?"

  "Aye, Mr Bones," said Silver, coming up astern of Billy Bones, "what's he doing indeed?"

  "Cap'n!" said Bones, nervously touching his hat and flicking his eyes left and right to check that all present had seen him give proper respect. After a few days aboard Lion, finding that he woke up in the mornings without a cut throat and walked the decks without being heaved overside, his fears had diminished. But he was still taking care not to give offence.

  Silver put his own glass on Walrus and thought for an instant that he saw Flint. It looked like Flint - a slight black figure in a big hat - waving at the men, as if to urge them to their duties. But the ocean was heaving and rolling high as the mainsail, and sight of Walrus came and went through the glossy green waves, so he couldn't be sure.

  "Hmm," said Silver, "I think you're right, Mr Bones. He's trying to leave us hull-and-topmasts under!"

  "Never!" said Billy Bones instantly, but then he thought hard and bit his lip and dared - very politely - to look Silver in the eye. "Why would he do that?" he said.

  "Mr Bones," said Silver, "I leave that to your imagination. But ain't it just a fine thing that our little Lion's so neat and sweet and could sail the arse off Walrus?"

  It was true. It was a source of pride to all on board, and a wonderful discovery it had been. Walrus was built for speed and had never met her match - until now. For Lion was a thoroughbred from stem to stern. She cut the water like a knife, she was sweet to the helm, she rode the waves like a lady, and she could easily have overhauled Walrus, had there been the need. For a second time, John Silver fell in love. If Walrus was Flint's darling, then Lion was his.