‘Possibly,’ replied the captain. ‘But many a New Island lad must dream the same dream, and yet none have dared an outrage such as this in all my years of coming here – our severity is too well known. The sea must call to him fiercely. And yet why would that be, if he was born to the highlands?’
‘Perhaps he’s more than he seems,’ said the girl, her eyes taunting now. ‘Perhaps he is the dreaded Honous Tombs reborn.’
Dow would have gaped in horror, but the captain was laughing, and the officers too, and the girl had glanced away, smiling. The Ship Kings were mocking him, that was all. They were ridiculing him by means of a ludicrous comparison to the greatest New Islander they knew. The terrible girl had not guessed his secret. Dow expelled a shaken breath and felt his heart jag in his chest, before beginning to beat normally again.
A marine had come up to the high deck and was now bent to the captain’s ear, making a report. ‘Very well,’ Vincente said in answer, ‘let them up.’ He inclined his head formally to Dow. ‘It seems there are some, after all, who have an interest in you. We are called upon by two men of Stromner.’
Dow turned, almost beyond surprise by now, and beheld none other than Boiler Swan climbing up to the high deck. The innkeeper dwarfed the marines who flanked him, but was hunched over as if trying to shrink himself small. He ignored Dow and bowed to the assembled officers, his meaty hands clasped humbly to his chest. And behind Boiler, climbing up with a reluctant scowl, came the last person Dow would ever have expected – Nathaniel Shear.
‘Your Excellency,’ said Boiler, bowing again as he addressed the captain. ‘We thank you for graciously allowing us to speak aboard your vessel. My name is Boiler Swan and I am the innkeeper of Stromner. With me is Nathaniel Shear, a fisherman of my village. He is the guardian of this boy here.’
Vincente studied Nathaniel a moment, but the old man remained bent and silent, and so the captain returned his gaze to Boiler. ‘You are aware of the prisoner’s crimes, and the seriousness of them?’
‘Yes, Excellency, word reached us.’
‘But you would offer some excuse for him, I assume?’
‘No, Excellency. Not an excuse. But we submit that it would be an injustice to hold the boy prisoner, or to punish him for the deed.’
‘An injustice? How so? He was caught in the act, trespassing upon this very deck. The lashes he receives will be well earned.’
Boiler ducked his head at the mention of lashes, but then raised it to meet the captain’s gaze square on. ‘It would be an injustice, Excellency, because the fault is not the boy’s. He was only doing what he was ordered to do.’
‘Ordered? By whom?’
Boiler looked to Nathaniel.
The old man had been gazing stubbornly at the deck, as if to ignore everyone and everything. But now, as all eyes turned to him, he raised his head at last and squinted at the captain. ‘Ordered by me.’
Dow opened his mouth to protest, but a sharp stare from Boiler stopped him; fury burned in the innkeeper’s eyes. Vincente meanwhile was glancing from Nathaniel to Boiler to Dow and back to Nathaniel again.
‘What is it you claim, old man?’ he asked. ‘You sent this boy to steal aboard my ship and to interfere with the binnacle here?’
Nathaniel glared back sourly. ‘Aye.’
‘And why did you instruct him so?’
‘I’d heard tell of this device,’ the old man said, every word unwilling, ‘and thought to learn how it might work.’
‘Heard tell? From whom?’
‘My father. He served in the fleet during the war. He told me tales of such things when I was young, and I told the same tales to this boy here, when he came into my keeping. But of the instrument itself I remained ignorant, in truth, and so last night I commanded the boy to come here and see what he might learn. I could not come myself. I am too old for such adventuring.’ Nathaniel finally looked at Dow, his expression as bitter and disapproving as ever. ‘He did not want to come. But I am his elder and guardian, and he obeyed me.’
Dow strove to hide his stupefaction. Where had such a fantastic tale come from, and what had possessed Nathaniel to tell it? Why would he be protecting someone he despised, and at such peril to himself?
The captain had turned to Dow. ‘Is this true, prisoner?’
What was Dow to say? How could he possibly agree to such a lie? Boiler’s eyes were still on him, the warning in them bright and vehement, the command clear, but it didn’t matter. Dow couldn’t do it.
‘No,’ he insisted, ‘I decided on my own to—’
Boiler cut him off. ‘Excellency! Dow here is a fine boy, and no doubt would gladly suffer the lash to prevent his much-loved guardian from shame. But he’s telling an untruth, and it would not be honourable to accept it.’
Vincente smiled thinly. ‘You would lecture me about honour? Beware, New Islander.’
Nathaniel straightened, weary of all such debate. ‘Sir, I see that there are many men on this fine ship of yours, and no doubt they must obey your every command. But if those commands be foolish and bring your fine ship to ruin, then you alone would bear the blame. Even if, to hide your foolishness, your crew later claimed the fault was theirs. It is always the captain who must answer. Such is the nature of command – and I’d have thought that even you Ship Kings would know it.’ Vincente was regarding the old man in solemn amazement, but Nathaniel only gave a proud bow of his head. ‘I too am master of a boat, sir – even if it has a crew of only one.’
Diego of the Diamond had been standing by through all this. Now he was unable to contain himself. ‘Sir,’ he protested to Vincente, ‘dismiss this old fool. You cannot consider what he proposes. The prisoner must be punished. For his assault upon my own person, if for nothing else.’
‘Hold, Lieutenant.’ Vincente’s order was mild but irrefutable. Drumming his fingers on his knee, he pondered Nathaniel a moment longer, before turning to the girl at his side. ‘Your thoughts, Nell?’
‘There are lies of all kinds here,’ she said, shrugging. ‘Whatever his tale, the old fisherman clearly bears no love for the boy. And the boy, I think, is now more loath to escape the lash than to receive it.’
The captain nodded and sat forward. ‘You, innkeeper. You’re the chief man of your village, I take it. Tell me then, who is this boy? He is from the highlands, we’ve learned, and only came to you as an orphan, and yet it seems that he fancies himself a sailor, and seeks for knowledge forbidden to him. And more, why is he so important that you and this old man will come here and lie for him, even at the expense of the skin on your own backs?’
Boiler mustered himself and stood upright. ‘Excellency, this boy is of no special importance, and he is certainly no sailor. He came to us in need of a guardian, and so we took him in, but in truth he’s not much fit for our way of life. He’s ill at ease in a fishing boat, being weak of stomach even in calm waters and dull at reading the winds. But he’s a decent enough lad for all that, and we don’t think it right that he should suffer when it was someone else that led him here.’
‘That’s not true!’ Dow objected, stung as much by the insult to his sailing ability as he was by the other lies.
‘Silence,’ commanded the captain. And Dow could see that a new look had come into Vincente’s eyes, a certain indifference, a fading away of any real interest in the matter. It was the same suddenly with the girl, who was looking off to one side as if the affair was settled. Even the other officers – with the exception of Diego – were shifting their feet restlessly where they stood.
It dawned on him then – the change had come the moment that Boiler had named Dow a poor sailor. At that, the Ship Kings’ interest in him had snuffed out; if he could not sail, then his identity was of no consequence to them anymore. Even his crimes hardly mattered. He bored them now.
Vincente rose to his feet. ‘This is my judgement,’ he announced. ‘It shall be the boy’s guardian, Nathaniel Shear, who is held to account. The sentence of seventy-five lashes stands f
or him, reduced by twenty-five lashes, for the old man struck no blow against my officer. Fifty lashes it shall be, to be delivered forthwith. Old man, do you have any appeal or objection?’
‘None,’ said Nathaniel.
Dow, in his outrage, hardly knew what was worse – to be punished, or to be thought not worth punishing; nor to whom he should direct his protest – Nathaniel or Vincente. In any case, he was beaten by Diego.
‘Sir,’ the lieutenant cried in indignation, ‘I object, most strenuously. Is the blow this boy inflicted upon me to go unpunished?’
‘Unpunished?’ Vincente considered. ‘No. I command that the boy watch every lash as it’s administered. For often it’s worse to watch the suffering of others, than to suffer yourself.’ He turned to Dow’s guards. ‘Free him. Then take the old man to the mainmast.’
Dow’s hands were loosed. The two marines took hold of Nathaniel and led him away down the stairs. But any cry Dow might have given to stop the madness was stilled when Boiler laid a heavy hand on his shoulder.
‘Not a sound,’ the innkeeper muttered. ‘You’ve caused enough damage already with your idiocy. Don’t make it worse now.’
‘But why has—?’
‘Shut up, I say!’
Dow obeyed, just as Diego stalked by, giving him a murderous glance. All the officers were gathering at the railing of the high deck, overlooking the main deck below. A marine appeared and ushered Boiler and Dow to the same spot, so that they too would be forced to watch.
Already Nathaniel had been stripped of his shirt, and was being bound by his arms to the mast. The old man’s body looked appallingly thin and vulnerable. The bones of his shoulders and spine protruded clearly through his skin, and he was shivering, either from the cold or from the anticipation of pain.
Then the marines stepped back to clear a space, and another man stepped forward, shirtless too, but young and wiry, his back corded with muscle. In bold readiness he brandished the tool of his trade, a whip that was split along its length into many barb-tipped thongs.
Dow could have closed his eyes, despite Vincente’s order, but he refused to allow himself any such consolation. He would watch every moment. And all too soon it began. An officer called out, the flogger swung his arm, and the first lash whistled through the air to rip into Nathaniel’s back. Blood and skin flew immediately, but Dow stared unblinking, his jaw bitten tight.
Again the whip whistled and struck, and then again and again as an officer counted aloud, and still Dow did not look away, even when Nathaniel could restrain himself no more and cried out in his agony. On it went, an eternity of torn flesh and spattered blood, and Dow could only will that the old man would fall mercifully insensible, and so be silent. But no silence came.
And then at last the count was complete. The flogger, puffing and sweating despite the chill, stepped back, and Nathaniel was taken down. Even then he remained conscious, writhing in pain and groaning as rough hands brushed at his wounds. Unable to stand, he sank to his knees on the bloody deck.
Boiler pushed back from the rail. ‘Come on,’ he said to Dow, through teeth clenched hard, ‘we have to get him home.’
‘Stay a moment there, innkeeper.’ It was the captain, coming up to them as his officers dispersed about the deck. In height, Vincente did not reach even to Boiler’s shoulder, but as he frowned up at the innkeeper his expression was as authoritative and unapologetic as ever. ‘It gives me no pleasure to injure an old man, but you seemed determined to have it thus, and to spare this boy with your fabrications. But whatever the truth may be, I trust that word will spread among your people that no good can come of trespassing upon our ships.’
‘Aye,’ said Boiler tightly. ‘It will.’
Vincente stared a moment longer, as if dissatisfied. But then he only shook his head. ‘Take your friend, and give him the care he needs. It’s important that his wounds be cleaned with alcohol.’ He strode off.
But before Dow and Boiler could go, Diego appeared at Dow’s side. ‘Be warned, New Islander. I know you now for a coward, to allow another to take the lashes you earned. A coward and a criminal.’ Dow bridled, and Diego grinned in response. ‘I’m glad I didn’t give you the beating you deserved last night. I would not want to soil my hands with the likes of you.’
Dow might have exploded then, but once more Boiler clasped his shoulder. ‘If you’ll excuse us, Excellency,’ the innkeeper growled, and even though Boiler made no threatening move, Diego stiffened and stepped back, and Boiler was free to steer Dow safely away.
They descended to the main deck. Dow, still incensed, looked back up to the railing. If he’d seen Diego there, sneering down at them with his plump lips, then even Boiler could not have held him back, but there was no sign of the lieutenant now.
There was, disconcertingly, only the girl.
She was standing by the rail, gazing at the bloody scene below with an abstractedness that was both intent and far away, as if she was lost in some compelling memory. Her hands were still jammed deep in the pockets of her black coat, but as Dow stared, she withdrew one hand and absently brushed back a lock of hair from her brow, revealing a pale, slender forearm.
Dow’s rage frittered away in confusion. As far along her arm as he could see, her skin was slashed with the same fine scars as her face.
Who was she?
But then she was gone, turning away from the rail without so much as a glance in his direction.
‘Dow!’ snapped Boiler, already by Nathaniel’s side.
Dow hurried over, his shame and horror returning as his feet slipped in the fresh blood that slicked across the deck. Boiler had propped Nathaniel into a sitting position, while a guard of marines stood by, watching dispassionately. ‘Hold him,’ the innkeeper instructed, and as Dow took the old man’s weight, Boiler produced a bottle of whisky and put it to Nathaniel’s lips.
The old man drank a mouthful, then spat out blood from a bitten tongue. He raised an eye, mad and red, to Boiler. ‘Are you happy?’ he whispered. ‘Have we kept the boy’s skin lily white and pure?’ But before Boiler could answer, Nathaniel clutched the bottle and uptilted it, drinking long and hard.
Calmly, Boiler produced another bottle from within his jacket and poured the contents over Nathaniel’s ravaged back. The old man gasped and swore and spat whisky, but he bore the treatment nonetheless, until at last both bottles were empty. Dow could do no more than hunch there, ignored by both men, feeling more worthless and wretched than he had ever felt in his life.
‘Help him up now,’ Boiler commanded.
They lifted the old man to his feet, and then, escorted by the marines, dragged him to the gangway and down onto the wharf. The marines followed them no further, allowing Dow and Boiler to make off along the dock alone with their burden. Glancing back, Dow saw that already life on the Chloe had returned to normal. A party of sailors were sluicing the fouled deck with buckets of water, so that trickles of pink foam ran down the ship’s side to be lost in the waters of the harbour, but otherwise the incident might never have occurred.
Nathaniel groaned in his delirium. Dow and Boiler marched him onwards, as bystanders on the dock stood aside silently to let them through. They came to the fishing wharf and Dow saw that the Maelstrom was tied up there, waiting. With utmost care they lowered Nathaniel into the boat until he was curled up in the bow, face down, his back naked to the air. He was shivering steadily now, but they could not cover him against the wind, for his wounds would bear no blanket or bandage. With Boiler at the helm they cast off, raised the sail, and rode briskly across the harbour to the gate and out into the channel.
There they set a course for East Head. Dow hunched himself miserably amidships as they progressed. His wretchedness and shame had not for a moment abated, and now in addition his nausea of earlier in the day came creeping back, for a fierce chop was rising in the Rip, tossing the boat about unpleasantly, and the stench of whisky and blood from Nathaniel was awful.
At the tiller, Boiler was
watching the sky in growing concern. Below the high overcast, a vanguard of heavier cloud, ragged and dark, was hastening up from the south; and even though the tide should have been outgoing at that hour, the wind was driving the waves inward through the Rip.
But Dow didn’t care about the weather. ‘Why?’ he demanded, lifting his voice over the thrum of the canvas.
Boiler gave him a glare. ‘If you think it was to save you from your own stupidity, then you’re mistaken. I would gladly have lashed you myself when I first heard. And Nathaniel could’ve wrung your neck.’
‘Then why?’
‘Because it wasn’t just your skin at stake. Every man, woman and child of Stromner was in danger because of you. Oh, I was warned of this. It was a risk, I always knew, to take you in. But I never imagined you would act with such half-wittedness. I thought self-preservation at least would give you some common sense. And yet you go and throw yourself to the Ship Kings. If they had found out who you really are, if they had discovered your bloodline – ’
‘I would never have told them.’
‘No? Even without touching you they’d already learned that you come from the highlands. Their curiosity was roused. What if they’d questioned you in more detail while you were under the lash? There’s no secret a man won’t tell to escape pain, boy. Like it or not, you’d have revealed the truth about Honous Tombs eventually. And then all our lives would be forfeit.’
Dow frowned, disbelieving. His own life may have been forfeit, yes, and maybe even the lives of his family. But to claim he had risked the life of anyone in Stromner, surely that was going too far . . .
Boiler saw the doubt in his eye. ‘Idiot! Even now, after all you’ve just witnessed, you remain blind to the truth about the Ship Kings. They will destroy even the smallest threat to their authority. Think on it! If they will flog an old man to within inches of death for a simple case of trespass, then believe me, they would hunt down every last person who dared to teach sea craft to a descendant of Honous Tombs. Tombs is the one man they have ever feared, and they fear him still, even in name. For his sake, they would come for Nathaniel, and they would come for me, and who knows how many others in Stromner. And they would execute us all.’
The Coming of the Whirlpool Page 15
