‘‘But that’s madness,’’ Potter yelled back. ‘‘The boat could capsize when it hits the water.’’
If only I could get to the fo’c’sle and free the others, then we might have a chance. It wouldn’t be easy, though, with chains to carry and a heap of guns lying at Potter’s feet. I was getting ready to have a try when I heard a shout of ‘‘Lord God who art in heaven, I pray to Thee, smite down thine enemies.’’ Strange to say I’d almost forgotten about the Reverend in these last moments. Here he came, striding across the deck, bold as brass. For a second I feared he might give me away, but no, he didn’t cast so much as a sneer in my direction, being far too intent on his own madness. It was high time he made himself somebody else’s nuisance for a change. Why, he might even come in handy, giving Potter somebody else to stare at.
‘‘Get back from here,’’ Potter shouted, as if he’d seen a ghost.
I didn’t wait but darted out from the stairway fast as I could, to the stump of the fallen mizzenmast, which I reached without getting shot even once. Getting to the fo’c’sle would be harder. I gave a wave to the two poor skeletons at the pumps to keep quiet.
I could hear Wilson droning behind me. ‘‘I must have this boat.’’
‘‘I’m telling you to get back.’’ Potter should have known better than to try giving orders to the Reverend.
‘‘God says it is mine.’’
‘‘God told you wrong.’’
Glancing back, I saw Potter waving his pistol at the Reverend. Not that it made any difference, as the only way he could’ve persuaded that old article was by putting a bullet through him. He must’ve wished he’d done just that, too. The next thing I knew Wilson uttered a kind of piping yell, then took a rush at the rail, and sort of scampered and hurled himself over, quite your flying vicar, landing himself nicely in the boat. The surprise, though, was what came next. The weight of him can’t have been much, being all skeleton like he was, but it was enough for those frayed ropes. One held and one gave, so the thing dropped down purest vertical. How Wilson held on I couldn’t say, but he did. The rest were less lucky, or less wilful. All of an instant Hooper, Skeggs and Hodges— and the oars too—were sprinkled nicely onto the ocean with pretty little splashes. I heard them wailing up from the water, already getting fainter, as the wind was carrying us away. Here was a wonder. Why, I could’ve shaken the Reverend by the hand for vanishing three quarters of Potter’s Englishmen quietly away like this. I didn’t wait but took my new chance. One more dash and I was standing before the fo’c’sle door. Dropping my chains in a heap, I started pulling bolts free. A proper army of the rotten, murdering things there were, too, half of them tight with rust.
‘‘How dare you,’’ Potter shouted at the Reverend. Casting a quick glance back, I could see he looked undecided, now looking over the side, I suppose in the hope he might save his friends—though I could see no sign of them—now throwing a raging look at Wilson, as if he was trying to work himself up to shooting the old article. If that was his notion he was too slow. The second rope will have been straining nicely, having the whole of the boat’s weight to carry, and all of a sudden it snapped, dropping the boat with a mighty splash. That turned Potter’s face redder than his beard, and he leaned over the rail and fired his pistol empty. I couldn’t see if he’d had any luck, the boat being too close to the ship’s side, but his aim looked wild.
Not that I had time to dwell on such things. Finally I had the last bolt free, the fo’c’sle door was being pulled back open from inside and familiar bodies were staring out. Though, in truth, they were only just familiar. If I thought I was bad, they were seven times worse, as I’d never seen men so starved. Their faces looked like masks, while their arms and legs were hardly more than bones with a little scran of skin wrapped about them, like skeletons in stockings. Even China Clucas seemed half wasted away. If I needed any more rage inside me—which I didn’t—that gave me a fine dose. I was amazed they were all able to stagger out at all, especially the two that were half killed with scurvy. Then again, I suppose there’s nothing like being locked away and left to drown to give a man a bit of eagerness. In a moment we were freeing the pair lashed to the pumps.
Potter looked all raging amazement at the sight of us, shouting out, ‘‘Get back in there.’’ How fat he was compared to the rest of us.
I never gave an order, but it was as if we all knew what to do. We started stumbling towards him, the sick giving a shoulder to the worse.
‘‘One step nearer and I’ll shoot,’’ Potter yelled.
We were too raging to care. As we tottered closer, he grabbed up all the rifles from the deck, slinging three over his shoulders and grasping the fourth in one hand, while he had the revolving pistol in the other, so he looked a proper medical bandit. Here was a fine little battle so it was: on one side nine Manx skeletons, one in chains, two hardly able to walk, with hardly a toothpick for weaponry among them; on the other a single Englishman pretending himself a whole army.
‘‘I will shoot.’’ He waved his rifle back and forth along the length of us, but it seemed as if we were just too many to choose from. For a moment he reached into his pocket, I guessed for more bullets for his pistol, but then sort of yelped, like a kicked dog, and, grabbing the leather carrying case, he darted away, guns clattering, to the stairs to the officers’ cabins. His rifles nearly stopped him, catching the hatch with a proper jarring that made him spit curses, but he managed to scamper down before we could reach him. ‘‘If any man steps down here I will shoot him,’’ he promised kindly. I could hear a scraping sound, of boxes being moved, so it seemed he was trying to make some kind of nest for himself
I let him be, having more urgent worries. ‘‘The wreckage,’’ I called out. I hardly need have troubled myself as China Clucas was already reaching for the axe. In just a few moments the mast and its mess were cut loose and drifting away, and Vartin Clague had the wheel to steady us. I took a quick glance over the rail at the timbers. A nasty sight they made, too, as the mast had scraped and bashed them something terrible, so I could only hope they wouldn’t cave in at the next big wave. Nor was this the finish of our troubles.
‘‘We’ll never get past that,’’ growled Brew. All this while that we’d been playing our games with the Englishmen the wind had been pushing the ship straight at England, and we were drifting nicely into a bay. Brew had his eyes on a long point jutting out into the ocean to larboard. ‘‘Even if we put more sail on the foremast, and it held, too—which I doubt it would—the wind’s too far round.’’
The sad thing was that he was right. Not in a thousand tries would we slip round that big chunk of rock. It seemed those Englishmen had done for my poor Sincerity after all. The rottenness of it. Halfway round the world she’d taken us, and the other half too, and now she was to be broken on rocks of their own muck of a land. All that was left was to hope we wouldn’t go down with her. Spreading my chains over the fallen mizzenmast, I had China Clucas set to work with the axe, which he did neatly enough, then snapping the rings off with Christian’s chisel. That was something, at least. After all this time shackled my arms felt light as air, so they kept sort of floating up without my intending.
‘‘Look, there’s the Reverend,’’ called out Kinvig.
Sure enough, there he was, sitting in the longboat a hundred yards distant, his hands clasped together for another bit of praying, just in case God was feeling neglected. His vessel being low in the water the wind seemed to be leaving him in peace, and he was drifting away with the current. By the looks of it he’d even clear the point. That fellow had the devil’s luck, no denying. Though I couldn’t believe he’d last long in the open sea, especially without oars. There was no sign of the other three.
We had none of his fortune. I took a look at the rest of the boats, but the fallen spars had done for them nicely, smashing two to splinters and giving the third a handsome crack stretching clean across her bow timbers. It seemed we’d just have to take our chances
as best we could. We might be half an hour, we might be more, but it would be soon enough. It was hard to see how savage we’d have it, but the way surf was jumping at the shore looked hardly friendly.
That was when Brew came up with his question. ‘‘Where’s the gold?’’
What a fine little question that was. I’d thought those Englishmen had used up all their nuisance, but no, the doctor had found a sweet way of riling us even now. The rotten thief with his leather carrying case. Glancing down the hatchway, I could see he’d blocked up the door of the dining cabin with a heap of packing boxes. A rifle was sticking out from a hole in the middle.
‘‘Keep away,’’ he shouted. ‘‘One step nearer and I’ll shoot.’’
Taking a run down there wouldn’t be clever, that was clear as glass.
‘‘We could lower someone over the stern,’’ suggested Brew.
‘‘He’d be sure to see, and put a bullet through him.’’
‘‘How about the cannon?’’ wondered China Clucas, in a grim sort of voice. ‘‘We could just blast him.’’
One look put paid to that. The mizzenmast had landed clean on top of the thing, squeezing it flat as a rat in a mangle. But I had an idea now. ‘‘What about the contraband holds. Does he know about them?’’
Brew wasn’t sure. ‘‘He must know they’re there.’’
There was a sight of difference between knowing they were there and knowing how to get in, as the London customs had proved nicely. It would be a risk, for sure, especially seeing as we had no guns, but what was risk when we were about to go smashing into a rocky shore. ‘‘We may as well have a try.’’
‘‘Let me come,’’ offered China Clucas, picking up the axe.
He’d do as well as any for a jaunt like this. I took a belaying pin and we were all set. Aside from the dining cabin, the other way in was from the hold, so we opened up the main hatch. A proper lake of bilge water there was down below, slooshing through the ballast and licking at the empty store casks, and giving me a good soaking as I clambered down the rope. Fortunately it hadn’t reached those particular timbers on the wall. I heard a faint click as Kinvig pulled that certain cable, making them twitch, and they prized open nicely enough. Lighting a candle and peering in, I learned for sure why we hadn’t sunk or capsized. D’you know the contraband hold was all but dry, with just a little wash of water dribbling about in the bottom. We couldn’t have built the Sincerity a better pair of floats if we’d wanted.
In I climbed. I could see no light shining in from Potter’s end, so the hatch to the dining cabin must still be closed, which was something. Unless he’d guessed us, of course, and was waiting his moment. Whatever he was doing, we couldn’t afford being heard, that was sure, so I whispered to the boys to take themselves aft and pester him with all the noise they were able. Before long I could hear them shouting into his den, calling him names—which is a fine skill of Manxmen—and China and me started our little journey.
This wasn’t easy. We had to drop down to where it was narrower and more slanting so we’d not slip, and even then it was hard to feel a way ahead—our legs being all sort of twisted with the timbers—while all the time we were trying to keep from scraping the axe and the belaying pin, and so giving ourselves away. The further we went, the darker it got, and the stronger was the smell of brandy and tobacco. All around me I could hear the timbers creaking, to remind us that we were lodged in just a little slip of air, with seawater by the ton pressing in from both sides. I’d chosen the side that hadn’t been battered by the mast but it wouldn’t make much difference, as if the timbers went the Sincerity would dive down quicker than porpoises. My other worry was that some bit of England might suddenly come smashing through the side, as our surprise. As we went, the sounds of the boys’ tauntings changed and changed again, growing louder and softer, harsher and muffled, as they found some different way to seep through the ship’s woodwork. Finally there was a loud bang that was answered with laughter and told me they must have riled Potter into wasting a bullet. It seemed they’d found the right names for him, then.
By then we’d finally reached the end. We wedged ourselves between the timbers like a proper pair of chimney sweeps, then prized our way upwards, till finally I felt the touch of the cable that sprang the trap. I could hear no sound apart from the shouting of the boys. If Potter had stumbled upon the entrance—as he well might have, squatting in my cabin for all these months—then he’d be ready as rabbits, but there was nothing to do but try. The hatch had never creaked before and I hoped it hadn’t got into bad habits. Gently as could be, I pulled up the cable, holding the catch to stop it clicking too loud. Jump it went and the hatch came loose. I waited a moment—for no reason at all, you know, except to put it off—and then, very gently, I pushed it upwards, holding its weight, so Queen Victoria swung over nice and gently.
Out I peered, quite dazzled by the light. There was Potter, or rather his back, crouched with all his guns behind a proper wall of his packing cases, as he stared away down the passage. That was a piece of luck. One of the boys must have just said something, as even while I looked he pointed his pistol and fired it off. That was more luck again. My ears were ringing like seven bells and his would be worse. Belaying pin ready, I was just about to pull myself up through the hatch when all of a sudden I felt myself tugged back. Would you believe it, that big gorm China Clucas was pushing me out of the way, so he could clamber up himself. For a bad moment I quite feared he meant to warn Potter—after all, he’d quite worshipped him for healing his pig gash—but no, I couldn’t have been more wrong. By the time I poked my head up through, Potter was twisting round—must have heard him coming—though he was too slow. I’m sure China didn’t mean to do for him, as he didn’t use the axe blade but gave him a tap with the metal back of the handle. Then again there’s nothing to get a man’s rage going like admiration gone sour. He caught Potter on the head, just above his eye, making a strangest sound, like a barrel being staved. That was enough. Down went the doctor, all clattering guns and flying mess.
I pulled myself through the hatch and had a scratch of my chin. ‘‘That’s that then.’’
China looked sort of sheepish. ‘‘I didn’t mean to…’’
I shook my head. ‘‘Don’t you go troubling your conscience with that one, China. He’s not deserving.’’ I called out to the boys through the hole in the packing cases. ‘‘It’s all right now. We’re finished here.’’
Brew’s face peered down the stairway. ‘‘You’d best get back up here, Captain. We’re getting close to the land.’’
That was when I noticed a curious thing. There on my shelf just where I’d left it all those months before, was our same bag of gold that I’d got from Jed Grey for our brandy and tobacco. Potter had just left it. It looked like he’d never even troubled himself to open the thing and see what was inside. What a strange body he was. But then what was in his leather carrying case? It must be valuable, or he’d not have been clutching it so keen.
‘‘Hurry up, Captain.’’
China had cleared the packing boxes out of the doorway. I grabbed the gold, and the leather case, too, and hurried up towards the deck.
So we finally had our disaster at sea, and a curious one it was besides. Your traditional shipwreck is all noise and wind and bodies getting landed against rocks, but this was nothing like. The sea, which had been a little choppy before, was calming nicely, while there was even a bit of sunshine to warm our bones. We didn’t so much as founder on rocks as get wedged between two of them, the Sincerity’s timbers grinding and creaking something terrible, as the waves pushed at her once and again. Well, we didn’t wait for fortune to go changing her mind, but lowered a rope onto a big flat chunk of stone below, and dropped ourselves down fast as fright, all giving a hand to the two that were so gone with scurvy.
I hadn’t thought beyond these rocks. Why should I have? It was good, and better than good, that we’d not all been drowned after all.
Now we were actually here, though, panting and gasping on this miracle of solid ground, I could see all sorts of new troubles raising their nasty heads.
It was as well we hadn’t dawdled. Hardly had we sat down and caught our breath when there was a crunching sound, and the poor Sincerity gave a mighty shudder. The timbers that had been battered by the mast must have gone, crushed by those rocks, as all at once there was a wild sort of gurgling and she was sliding back down fast as could be. The contraband holds had no bulkheads, so they’d fill as quick as a sieve dropped in a well, and sure enough her poor battered hull slipped down so she was gone in hardly an instant. The foremast poked up above the water for a short while but soon even that was tilting to one side, and then disappeared. She’d gone down whole.
That was bad as well.
Here was a hard sort of moment. Saying goodbye to the Sincerity, the first and only vessel I’d ever owned. I’d still felt she was my ship even during all those months I was stuck below, with Potter playing captain and making a wreck of her. Why, she’d saved our lives, keeping us afloat just long enough. Not that that was all my thinking. There was also the little matter of what was still in her—or rather who—waiting to be found. I quite wished I hadn’t taken China Clucas along for that jaunt. Mind you, what else could we have done?
‘‘Is that the jink, then?’’ asked Brew, pointing at the leather case.
I’d clean forgotten about the thing. Mind you, it was a proper waste of time as it turned out. There I’d been, dragging it off the vessel like my life depended on it, and when I opened it up all I found was paper. Where was the use in that? From what I could see it was purest gibberish, too, being all about types and characteristics and other nonsense. I couldn’t think why Potter had been hanging on to it so.
China pointed at the sand dune behind us. ‘‘Someone’s coming.’’
Following his look, I saw two bodies on horseback riding towards us. Rescuers, that was all we needed. From their clothes they looked like farmers. They were good and shocked at our being so starved.
English passengers Page 51
