Tregarthur's Prisoners: Book 3 (The Tregarthur's Series)

by Alex Mellanby

  ‘I can run the rigging,’ I called out. ‘You need men. No good in leaving us here to rot.’

  I could see that made sense.

  ‘And I cook,’ Sam joined in and that made more sense.

  ‘Cook?’ said the captain. ‘Any good with them tortoises?’

  ‘No problem,’ said Sam and I believed him. Sam had chopped up, sometimes cooked and eaten so many weird animals. Sam was a butcher’s son and even though tragedy had hit his family with his father being killed before we set out with Miss Tregarthur for the first time, Sam was keeping up the family tradition of butchering; although I doubted if tortoise would become a high-street success in our time.

  With Sam the cook, they released us and it was back to work for both of us. Hard work. They were really short of anyone to sail this boat. This wasn’t like the other ship. Orders and shouting were usual. No questions. We were given hammocks with the rest of the crew. There were several spare places. There had been trouble. This was a navy boat sent out to block the slave trade.

  ‘Had to fight Black John,’ one of them told us. ‘That’s why we’re short.’

  ‘Bloody pirates,’ someone shouted.

  ‘Bloody slavers,’ called another.

  Black John was obviously both - a slaver and pirate. He’d got the better of this ship, they’d just managed to get away, most of the officers had been killed. Now they were going back to port for repairs and to get more crew.

  Ben appeared. He seemed to shut out the light as he stood in front of us.

  ‘And no soldiers, never should have gone after him without soldiers. That right Ben?’ whoever it was that spoke to Ben I could hear trembling in his voice. He was scared, they were all scared of Ben.

  ‘Back to it,’ Ben said with a growl. ‘Or it’ll be the lash.’

  That got us all moving. We sailed on. The shifts on the rigging were long. This crew didn’t leave the sails alone, always winding in ropes, putting up more sail, taking it down all day and all night. The captain wanted to make good time to wherever we were going. And none of the crew knew where that was.

  ‘Captain’ll tell us when we get there.’

  About three days out they gave us the grog. Ben handed out a mug of the thick brown liquid to each man. It was some ritual, this grog, given out to keep us going.

  ‘Like the stuff Crow gave us,’ Sam said as he choked. He was pretty much kept in the galley all the time although he was allowed on deck for the grog.

  Sam wasn’t right. This grog was stronger than anything we’d had in the caveman world, even if it did taste the same. I felt my legs wobble and my head spin as I finished my mug and handed it back to Ben.

  The other men weren’t troubled by the grog, except wanting more. As Ben took the barrel back to store it safely below decks I could see that one of the crewmen was going to take it further than just wanting more. And that night he did.

  In the morning they found him drunk and snoring with one arm wrapped round the barrel – nearly empty.

  Ben dragged him way towards the bridge. ‘Flog him,’ the captain shouted and Ben did just that. The man was tied to the mast and beaten until his back was red and bleeding. None of the crew said anything, he’d drunk their share and I guessed they would have joined in the flogging. Ben did it hard and he smiled while he did it. And he gave me a look which made me think he wanted to flog me too.

  Flogging became more common as the days passed. The captain seemed to have taken to his berth leaving Ben in charge, and he seemed to enjoy giving orders and punishing those who were slow. Ben seemed to have found himself another barrel of grog and the drink made him even worse, lashing out at anyone who came near to him.

  ‘You need to watch yourself,’ said one of the crew as we climbed up to trim the sail.

  I didn’t need telling. I was sure Ben planned to set me up, every time he was on deck I saw him looking at me. I wondered why. I found out from Sam later, he’d been having trouble with Ben down in the galley. Not too much trouble – they needed Sam, he was the only cook.

  ‘Ben’s decided that we aren’t slavers but he thinks we must have come off a pirate ship,’ Sam told me. ‘Ben’s brother was killed by pirates, so he says, and he feels he should kill them all. I think he just hates everyone – especially when he’s been at the booze.’

  So I made sure I kept out of Ben’s way. And I suppose I shouldn’t have done what I did.

  One day, when the wind had left us and under the heat of the midday sun with the sea as calm as glass, Tom, the oldest crew member, failed to secure one sail rope holding one of the main sails. It didn’t really matter, with no wind he had time to go back and do it. Ben didn’t let him, he grabbed Tom, marched him up to the mast and declared he was going to flog him. ‘Until you never can forget,’ Ben screamed and I think that meant Tom wasn’t going to leave the mast alive, even if we were short of men it didn’t matter to Ben.

  ‘And if any of you men think even once about stopping me,’ Ben glowered at the crew on deck. ‘Remember this isn’t some merchant boat, it’s one of the king’s navy and it’s navy rules and navy orders and I’m the one giving the orders. And anyone who doesn’t like it can leave by the quickest route.’ Ben waved his hand towards the sea. ‘That way.’

  Everyone had gathered on deck, even those who were meant to be sleeping ready for the night watch, even Sam had come up, drawn by Ben’s shouting. Everyone, that is, except the captain.

  ‘Where’s captain?’ asked one of the crew.

  Ben turned on him, ‘You talking to me?’

  The man didn’t answer.

  Ben turned again, swinging the lash he had in his hand. ‘Captain’s sick,’ Ben laughed. ‘Touch of the fever.’ He pointed up at me. ‘So don’t think he’ll save you.’

  And with that he started to flog old Tom.

  I was in the rigging at the time, and shaking a bit because I thought I was going to be next, each snap of the lash made it worse. I could see the crew grumble as Tom started to slump under the force of the beating.

  Thwack. And with each lash Tom gave a cry.

  I was good with the rigging, learnt every sail name from flying jib to the spanker, every halyard, learnt all the knots. Mostly I’d learnt them on the slave boat and there was often nothing to do except learn the names, here it was essential because Ben used the names to give orders and if you didn’t know the name you couldn’t do anything and that meant you were due for the lash.

  Thwack. The blood was running down Tom’s back.

  I looked to my left. Another crew member sat on the spar that held the upper topsail. The sail cloth had been taken below for repairs so the spar was clear with just me and the other crewman at each end. The man looked at me and pointed at the wood.

  Thwack.

  I looked down. The flogging happened just below me. I turned again and the other crewman was jabbing his finger at the wood. I could see what he meant, I’d learnt all these ropes.

  Thwack. Tom was barely moving with each strike, he wouldn’t last long.

  I knew these ropes and I knew what would happen as I undid the one underneath me.

  Thwack. Ben’s face lit up with a hideous smile as he steadied himself for another blow at full strength.

  The rope came away. The spar swung down under me, taking me over the sea and I jumped not knowing what was going to happen. ‘Sharks’ were my last thoughts as I plummeted towards the water.

  Unwelcome News

  -12-

  Gasping for breath I surfaced. At least I could swim, one of the things I did learn before this nightmare trip. There was a lot of noise back on the deck and no one was looking for me. The water was warm and it would have been a really nice swim if I’d been on holiday. I kept on looking for fins.

  Eventually Sam peered over and shout
ed, ‘You alright?’

  ‘No,’ I sputtered. ‘Get me out of here.’

  Sam threw me a rope and I started to haul myself back up to the deck. I’m sure I saw a big black shape pass by the boat. I scrabbled frantically and launched myself over the rail.

  I think the other crew members were surprised to see me. Most of them couldn’t swim so I suppose they thought I’d drowned and they didn’t seem too concerned. Everything was different when I climbed back up.

  The wooden spar had crashed down towards the deck. I suppose the other crew members had managed to direct it to hit Ben as he carried on with the flogging. Ben now lay against the rail, blood oozing from a large gash on his head. No one was doing anything for him.

  The rest of the crew had gathered round Tom and he was carried below.

  ‘Get down and help them,’ one of the crew said to me. ‘And you.’ He pointed to Sam.

  I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. This was a naval ship, surely there would be trouble? I nodded my head at Sam and we went down into his galley. It seemed safer to stay out of the way. It seemed so quiet. With almost no wind the boat was slapped gently by the waves.

  We heard a loud splash.

  ‘Man overboard,’ came a shout.

  ‘Let the sails run and turn,’ another shout.

  We felt the change of the waves as the boat turned so very slowly. The galley was near the captain’s cabin and we heard him stumble past us.

  ‘Come on,’ I said and we followed him on to the deck.

  There was no sign of Ben. No sign of the blood where he had lain. Several of the crewmen were staring over the side.

  ‘Down there,’ one said. ‘I saw him go over.’

  The captain staggered as he went to the rail. What sort of fever did he have? I hoped it wasn’t catching. The captain called for an explanation and the crew told him Ben had drunk nearly all the grog, come up on deck and fallen over.

  I could see that the captain didn’t really believe them, but I could also see that he wasn’t going to argue. If the crew had thrown one man overboard they could throw another. ‘Don’t suppose he’ll be missed.’ The captain turned from the rail and called weakly, ‘Elijah, take his place and get this boat back on bearing 207 degrees till we see the Malagasy peaks.’ And with that he slowly went back to his cabin.

  I looked over the rail. There was nothing to see, not even a bubble. I didn’t know much about bodies in the water, wouldn’t he float back up?

  I heard voices: ‘Never miss that small length of chain.’

  And the laugh, ‘Heavy.’

  We weren’t going to see any more of Ben even if the ship had hardly moved away from the spot he went over.

  In the night the wind returned. A steady breeze filled the sails and it turned a little cooler. Elijah knew the crew. There were no more floggings and he kept us all at work with less shouting. A few days later the captain came back on deck. Whatever fever had taken him he recovered and grew stronger each day.

  I had no idea about the Malagasy peaks and none of the crew had been there. It was several weeks before I saw the line of the shore in the distance. Another day before we saw the peaks of an island. And yet another before we set the anchor down off-shore from a small town.

  We might be just off the town but most of us weren’t going anywhere. The captain, Elijah and a couple of the crew went ashore, leaving the rest of us behind. This wasn’t the place to swim ashore. Someone said there were dolphins swimming in the water around our boat. I wasn’t going to risk the chance that the fast moving dark shapes were something much more dangerous.

  The next morning the captain came back along with two other small boats from the town carrying more crew members and supplies. The new men were in uniform and as it turned out they had been left on this island waiting for us to arrive.

  ‘The marines we were meant to have had,’ Tom told us. He hadn’t really recovered from the flogging and had been sent to the galley to help Sam. He went on: ‘They’re the ones who should have been on board before we went looking for Black John.’

  It wasn’t just the marines, there were several naval crew members and two officers. The boat was nearly back to full strength. And a cook. And news from England…

  As the captain climbed back on to the deck he started giving orders. There wasn’t going to be any shore leave for the rest of the crew and there wasn’t going to be anything good for us.

  ‘In irons below.’ He waved the soldiers forward, we were seized and dragged back down into the hold of the ship. No comfort here. This was the prison cell. The darkest smelliest part of the ship.

  The next day we were dragged up on deck and put before the captain along with several of the new officers.

  ‘So you were on your way to Australia were you?’ one of the officers said as he poked me hard. ‘So you wouldn’t know about two lads who escaped hanging back in England and happened to be seen boarding a slave ship?’

  I said nothing, there was nothing to say.

  ‘Do we hang them here?’ The captain seemed to be at a loss as to what he should do. It felt as though the new officers were much more in command.

  ‘Not ’til they get to the next British port. That’ll be Australia,’ said the officer. ‘Has to be done properly.’ He looked at the captain. ‘I’m sure you want to make sure everything is done properly – captain.’

  Australia and hanging, Sam and I looked at each other without words.

  It also sounded to me that the captain wasn’t out of trouble either, perhaps taking off after Black John without the soldiers hadn’t been part of his naval orders. That didn’t matter to us, we were put back in the hold. The ship left. In the heat and stench Sam and I found more real misery.

  First we were hotter than ever, drenched in sweat. The ship heaved under a strengthening wind, days of dark dank heat. Even here there were rats. Then the weather turned. Cold as ice, mountainous waves smashed the boat, ice formed on our water bucket, the ship groaned and bucked and we felt it would capsize. Days and days of being thrown around, sometimes the crew would throw some bread down to us. One day Tom lowered himself down with more drinking water. I could see he wanted to say something but there was another officer above so he just gave us the water and climbed back out.

  From time to time Sam would ask me more impossible questions, what I thought might have happened to Jenna and Ivy, were they alive, would we see them before they hanged us?

  Eventually we were back into calmer water, calmer warmer weather again. We should have marked off the days, we had no idea how long we had been at sea, months I thought. And it was many more days before I heard the shouts to lower the sails and drop anchor. As the sound of the ship moving died away we heard more noise from outside. We had reached a port and from the sounds it was busy. The sort of port that did hangings, I thought.

  Soon we heard the boats being lowered. From the orders we could hear it sounded as though many of the crew were going ashore.

  They hadn’t all left. Above us we heard the noise of soldiers, marching, ordering, shouting. This was obviously a big port and they had to look smart.

  ‘It’ll be another prison cell,’ muttered Sam. ‘That’s before they string us up.’

  I didn’t answer. All these weeks at sea seemed so pointless. Should we have stayed on the island with Bami? Why had we left it?

  ‘Had to try,’ Sam said as though he read my mind.

  He was right, we had to follow Jenna and Ivy. There had been nothing else on our minds ever since we escaped the death row cell. If I was going to die I hoped I would at least see Jen again. Where were we now? It seemed hot, the heat and smells felt strange. Had we really made it to Australia?

  The hold where we were kept in chains was separate from the rest of the spaces below deck. There was no es
cape route, no way out other than the hatch above us from the deck. Anyway we were still held by the iron manacles. The new crew of soldiers had fastened them to our legs. We just had to wait. Nothing else to do. Except…

  Behind us we heard the sound of something shifting. Our cell might be separate but only wooden walls partitioned the boat and right now it sounded as though someone was coming through. One of the boards shifted.

  ‘Keep quiet.’ I recognised Tom’s voice. Slowly and quietly they removed more planks and Tom came through, Elijah stood behind him.

  Tom set about breaking off the manacles and saying ‘shh’ if we tried to talk. It took an age and Elijah was looking more and more worried as Tom cut away at the iron loops.

  ‘They’re coming back,’ Elijah said in a louder whisper. ‘I can hear them.’

  And we could hear the sound of a boat being rowed towards us, shouts from the soldiers on board.

  ‘They won’t give,’ Tom said with defeat in his voice.

  Elijah pushed through and wrenched the manacles from our legs. It needed his strength. We followed them back through the gap they had made. We were into the food hold. Tom closed up the planks. It was a neat job and hard to spot.

  ‘Been used before,’ Tom smiled.

  ‘Stay here,’ Elijah said firmly and he was off back up to the deck.

  I heard him and Tom running forward, followed by the crash of the hatch that had been over our cell.

  ‘They’ve escaped,’ Elijah shouted loudly. ‘Who let them out?’ No one answered. ‘You soldiers were watching them.’

  Then everyone seemed to shout at once, blaming each other. Someone said they thought they saw us. ‘Over there, swimming to the town.’

  ‘Take to the boats,’ screamed the officer who I thought had taken control. We didn’t hear the captain’s voice. He must have been left on shore. Probably he was in as much trouble as we were.