Calls echoed across the deck, “Shamus, you toothless potato eater, get to your station!”
This commotion immediately attracted the attention of Mr. Mandrik. “Mr. Willis, go find ya drunken mick friend and get 'em to his station immediately,” he demanded sternly. Patrick recruited Isaac to his aid and they went below deck searching for Mr. Red’s passed-out, drunken corpse. They looked everywhere; every bunk, every crawl space, even the bilge. No sign could be found of him. What’s worse was that all of his belongings, including his wooden pot of silver winnings, had vanished as well. Both Isaac and Patrick felt a growing dread. They knew the quartermaster would be murderous with this news and neither man relished the thought of reporting it back to him. They both drudgingly climbed above deck to report to Mr. Mandrik with the news.
As they told him what they found, Mr. Mandrik seemed to grow taller as his rage consumed him. His face became dark and fire blazed in his angry eyes. The two messengers were frightened and recoiled as their eyes sunk to their feet. Both men were struck in their faces with one stinging backhand. “Ya two best hope he is on dis ship! Summon the boatswain to call another meeting, NOW!” the imposing Greek bellowed loudly.
The sound of the boatswain’s whistle could be heard screeching across the deck. The crew quickly assembled in excited curiosity. The quartermaster spoke in a harsh, angry tone. “It seems dat Shamus Red is missing dis morrow from da Robin. No man is getting off dis ship until he is found. All da crew search dis ship and find him. NOW! Or dare be no shore leave for nobody!” Except for the few men essential to docking, the entire infuriated crew immediately began a high-speed and panicked search.
In the meantime, as Savannah came closer into sight, Captain Gibbons ordered, “Quartermaster, signal the harbor master that our barky is ready for the mandatory pox inspection.”
Mr. Mandrik produced a solid iron mug with a finger-sized hole drilled into the middle of it. The signaling cannon looked more like a beer stein than a cannon. “Cover ya ears, sailors. Don’t let its small size fool yas, it packs a heck of a crack. They call this cannon a thunder mug for good reason.” He carefully loaded the powder into the tiny cannon and then took a linstock to it. A loud, thunderous crack filled the harbor and within minutes, the harbormaster could be seen rowing small jolly boat out to inspect the vessel.
Some formalities were shouted back and forth between the captain and the dock master. After some quick discussion, the harbormaster boarded the Robin and quickly inspected the crew for disease. He returned to his jolly boat, waving the Robin in and leading it to the dock. The harbormaster then gave a quick thumbs up motion to call off the cannons on the bluff, which were quietly trained onto the Robin.
The Robin drifted in perfectly and was gently docked; a true credit of the captain’s abilities. The Robin’s crew and the men working the dock snapped to life, working in a fluid unison to tie the ship down. A large steel ruckus was made as the Robin unleashed its noisy anchor. Wasting no time, the crew slid the gangplank to the dock. Before any man could dash off, the quartermaster blocked the way of the crew. “Nobody touches land until da dirty mick is found!” The crew let out a collective groan, like children who were not allowed out after finishing their chores.
Ignoring this order, the captain walked down the gangplank to barter with the dock master over the price and terms of his stay. Summoning one of his cabin boys, the captain instructed, “Boy, post this notice for the auction of the indentured in market square. You'll see the other postings and figure out where to nail it up.” The boy silently and solemnly nodded he understood and ran off. The Captain then strolled up the long stairs and disappeared into the town hidden behind the palisades.
Mr. Mandrik continued to make the crew search futilely for Shamus for the rest of the long day. The men searched until sunset when they started to collect on deck to approach Quartermaster Mandrik. “We done torn dis ship apart, sir," the rigging master stated. "There is no sign of Red. I doubt the drunk was washed overboard; his belongings vanished mysteriously as well. He must have jumped ship, Quartermaster.”
The Greek man was seething with rage. “Listen good!" he shouted as the crew was silenced. "Whoever drags that mick, Irish coxcomb back to da Robin get’s his weight in silver. Go find him! Check every last pub and inn in town. But remember da captain’s rules: make no mention of his sordid past or I'll make ya wish ya you were in a rat-hole prison in London.”
The flood of excited men pushed past each other as they shoved their way down the gangplank. Patrick only got one foot on the gangplank until the angry Greek shoved him to the deck. “Ya four ain't going anywhere. We no lose anymore of ya slippery gudgeons. Ya will stay locked below until da auction.” The four men surrendered to their fate and begrudgingly shuffled below deck escorted by six armed crewmen. Each of the four was locked into a cabin, instructed to sleep and clean up. Two days from now they would be auctioned off and they could not look dirty or tired.
Pirates of Savannah Trilogy: Book One, Sold in Savannah - Young Adult Action Adventure Historical Fiction Page 16
