He was accompanied by a more modestly dressed man carrying a bedraggled quill pen, a bottle of ink, and a document of some sort. Those of the pirate crew not actively involved with sailing the ship circled us, as if to watch a performance.
The first man said, “Gentlemen, I apologize that my duties have kept me from welcoming you aboard. I do so now.” He actually cut a leg, and quite handsomely, too. “I am Captain Nathaniel Parker, of the Brazen Mermaid, and this is Mr. Talman, our quartermaster."
I looked at the man with the pen and paper with interest, having learned that the quartermaster was often more important a personage than the captain, because it was his job to keep track of both provisions and booty. Mr. Talman had the sour face of a provoked Oxford don planted on the body of a brute well able to maintain his place on a pirate ship.
"Now, if you will do me the honor of introducing yourselves...” Parker said.
We prisoners looked at one another. Then the ranking officer stepped up. “First Lieutenant Hart, formerly of the Fortune's Daughter."
"A responsible position. Your wife must be very proud."
"I am not yet married."
"A pity. Well, Lieutenant, it happens that our ship is in need of a man of your abilities. Are you willing to sign our articles and, in return for a full share, join our crew?"
He drew himself up. “I am not."
"Would you prefer to jump into the sea?"
Hart could only stare.
"You see,” Parker said, “those are the only choices. Join the crew, or visit Davy Jones."
There was a long moment, punctuated only by a gesture from Parker which caused his men to step aside, leaving a clear path to the railing.
After swallowing hard, Hart said, “May I read your articles first?"
"Fair enough."
But while Hart made a show of looking over the document, it was clear his decision was already made, and when the quartermaster handed him the pen, he signed and was borne away by the crew with a show of welcome.
The introductions continued, and in each case, Parker made a pretense of small talk before offering the choice he'd made to Lieutenant Hart. Some signed reluctantly, and some willingly, but all but two men signed. One stiffly marched to the railing and threw himself off, with a proud farewell of “God save the King!” Another grabbed for a pistol at one of the pirates’ belt, but he was shot on the spot, and then tossed over the railing as well.
I trust I need not tell you of my trepidation as my own turn approached. Though I was not particularly looking forward to becoming a lawyer, neither did I wish to become a pirate. Even without any useful sailing skills, as a young man in good health, I felt sure I would soon be forced to wear a kerchief of some revolting shade. Then I took note of something. The captain spoke to a sailor, and then said he had no need for a man with his skills. After adding two more men to his crew, he passed by another sailor from Fortune's Daughter, though in that case it was evident the man would probably not last out the night. Finally, upon reaching the last of the surviving crewmen, he again neglected to issue an invitation.
A thought occurred to me, barely more than a guess, but I resolved to put it to use.
All that remained were Squire Turow and myself, and of course, Turow pushed himself forward.
"And you are?” Parker said, courteously enough.
"I am Squire Turow of Port Royal, and I demand that you release me immediately."
"If I were to do that here, I fear you would drown."
There were appreciative chuckles from the pirates, and sputtering from Turow.
Presumably it was obvious Turow was no use aboard a ship, for Parker turned to me. “And you, sir?"
"William Cunningham,” I said. “Formerly of London, and if fate permits, soon to set up practice in Port Royal."
"What would that practice be?"
"I am a lawyer, sir."
If you read this portion to Father, be sure to prepare for the inevitable snort, along with the comment that I have done nothing to earn such a title other than attend classes, and not nearly enough of those. As events played out, I argued my first case before another day had passed. But for now, let me continue my narrative.
"A lawyer,” Parker said speculatively.
"Not a skill you need, I suspect."
"Perhaps, perhaps not. Is your wife in Port Royal?"
"No, she is with her parents in London, waiting for me to send for her."
Smelling salts, Mother! I promise you, I have not married without your knowledge or blessing. I lied to the man, intentionally and with forethought. Having noted that the healthy men Parker had passed over had mentioned their wives and children, something the other sailors had not, I was betting my future that it was no coincidence.
Squire Turow stiffened, since I'd made it plain that I hoped to pay my respects to his daughter, but perhaps because he already thought me a cad, for once he kept his mouth shut.
"You are young to be married,” Parker said, suspiciously I feared.
"Childhood sweethearts.” I could not tell if he believed me, so I added, “I carry her picture with me always, if you'd care to see.” I pulled out the miniature of Kate to show him, and after he inspected it, he said only, “A lovely lass.” He sounded almost disappointed, though at the time, I could not imagine why.
He stepped back, and addressed the remaining prisoners. “Gentlemen, I'm sure you realize your situation. You are entirely at my mercy.” He stopped to let his words sink in. “But I do not kill unnecessarily. Do as you're told, give us no trouble, and at the first opportunity, you'll be left where you can make your way to some town or another. But if you give us grief...” Again he timed his pause for full dramatic impact. “You'll get it back fivefold. Is that understood?"
There were murmurs of assent, but I decided it would do no harm to make my understanding more definite, and in ringing tones, I said, “Perfectly, Captain."
Parker seemed satisfied, and though I heard Turow muttering “lickspittle,” I ignored him magnanimously. Whether because of my somewhat tenuous claim to a profession or because of my wholly fraudulent claim to a bride, I was alive and not a pirate.
Despite my joy, the rest of that day was the most miserable I have ever spent. First we were stripped down to our skins, while still on deck, to ensure that we'd concealed nothing worth taking. The pirates were not kind in their judgment of our appearance—I even saw one of the former crew members from Fortune's Daughter jeering. Once we'd dressed again, we were taken to that part of the ship known as the bilges, and locked into a barred cell. The less said about the conditions, the better, but I will say that there was scarcely enough space for the five men imprisoned there, let alone the vermin in residence.
This, we were told, was where we'd stay until the captain released us.
At first, we were cheerful enough, merely from having survived, and eagerly discussed our circumstances. According to one of the sailors, Parker had been known to release prisoners unharmed in the past. The other sailor pointed out that had Parker killed passengers, they'd never have been heard from again. The first man countered that he could have killed us already, had he been so inclined, but the second opined that he could be saving us for later entertainment. The former shipmates would have come to blows had I not physically restrained them.
Afterward, the two of them were content to glower at one another, ignoring my attempts at conversation. Turow still refused to acknowledge my existence, and the third sailor was barely conscious, and only moaned until, some hours later, he died. Nobody came in answer to our calls, so we were left with his body for some time.
I cannot speak for the others, but my feelings were made only worse by the sounds of celebration that rang throughout the ship. The pirate crew was not modest in their victory—there was music, dancing, and undoubtedly feasting and drinking. I suppose it was no wonder that we were neglected for the remainder of that day and night.
Our situation was a little better come m
orning. First off, a crewman came by with food and drink for us, and it was reasonably generous in portion and quality. Then the poor devil who had died was removed, presumably to be thrown overboard. I'll admit I was so relieved by his absence that I gave little thought to whether or not he would receive a proper sendoff.
There seemed to be more commotion on the Brazen Mermaid than I was used to aboard Fortune's Daughter, but I attributed it to the greater size of the pirate crew and perhaps a lack of formality. It was not until midmorning that I found out the true cause of the uproar. That was when a crew member came and pounded on the bars. “On your feet for the captain!"
We stood, and a moment later, Captain Parker arrived. “You there,” he said to me. “You say you're an experienced lawyer?"
"I am.” I realize I've given Father yet another cause for derision, but I was at least a fledgling lawyer, and I have had many experiences. The fact that these two elements of my life were entirely separate was hardly worth mentioning.
"We have need of your services. One of my crew members has been accused of breaking one of the ship's articles, and I hoped you'd be willing to assist."
"In court?” I asked, thinking it most unlikely.
"Not an actual court, no, just here on board. Normally we'd take care of the matter without so much bother, but it seems a shame not to take advantage of your presence and give the crew a bit of a show at the same time."
"I see. What, exactly, would you wish me to do?"
"I was hoping you'd argue his case for him."
"Is he unable to do so himself? That is the usual procedure."
"The accused is a simple man, not much for words. It'd be a mercy if you could speak for him. He's an old shipmate of mine, and I want it handled fair and square, if you're willing."
I hesitated. “Would my other option be the same as you gave the sailors yesterday?"
He smiled, but with more menace than mirth. “Nothing like that. I've given my word that you'll be set free. Of course, the sooner this matter is taken care of, the sooner I'll be able to get you and your comrades to dry land. Unless you're that fond of the accommodations, that is."
Though I would like to pretend my actions were on behalf of my fellow prisoners, it was, in fact, the thought of getting myself off that ship that impelled me to say, “In that I am always willing to speed justice, I accept."
Captain Parker released me, and even ordered a bucket of water for me to perform a sketchy toilet. Turow, of course, had much to say about my decision, especially after I accidentally splashed him.
I was taken to a cabin and told that my “client” would be along directly. You can only imagine my alarm when he arrived and I saw it was the black-haired giant who'd threatened Turow with such enthusiasm the day before. Even though his hands were manacled, I was most uneasy when the door was closed behind him, leaving us alone.
"Cunningham, that's your name, isn't it?” he asked.
"It is. And you are ...?"
"Perry Gardner. I wants to thank you for agreeing to help me. I could tell you were a decent man yesterday. Showing us where your friend's loot were hid was smartly done."
"It seemed the prudent course,” I said, surprised by his mild tone.
"Aye, it were that, and saved me no end of trouble. I've no love for torture."
"But ... You said..."
He actually broke into a grin. “Fooled you, did I? Funny what a loud voice and a few oaths will do to make a man give up his valuables. And the way Crane acted all nice and concerned? That makes it work even better. The bad looking worse next to the good, as it were."
"You were most convincing."
"Crane was the one to come up with the ploy,” the pirate confided. “He used to be an actor before he went on the account."
"On the account?"
"Before he became a pirate."
"I see. I understand you have a case for me to argue."
"That I do. They're saying I done murder."
I nodded, wishing I'd thought to ask Parker exactly which article had been broken before I agreed to help. Then I remembered the pirate captain's smile—it would not have changed my decision.
And so, having accepted the case, it behooved me to treat him as a legitimate client, and one thing I have learned from Father is that a lawyer should never ask a client whether or not he is actually guilty. Seating myself on one of the stools in the room, I gestured him toward the other. “Pray tell me the circumstances that led up to this accusation."
"I can't tell you much,” he said, once settled. “I fell asleep topside last night, and when Murbles came across me this morn—"
"Murbles?"
"The first mate. When he saw me, he tossed a bucket of water on me to rouse me. I leapt up, cursing a mite from the surprise, but the man on the deck beside of me didn't stir. We turned him over, and saw it was a man by the name of Biggs, dead as a doornail. Since I was next to him, Murbles figured I did the killing."
"Couldn't he have died in his sleep?"
"Not bloody likely. His tongue was stuck out, and you could see the marks of fingers on both sides of his throat. Somebody throttled the bastard."
I couldn't resist a glance at Gardner's hands, which appeared quite strong. “Other than proximity, was there any reason to place the blame on you?"
"Aye, there was. Murbles searched the body, and when he saw he didn't have nothing on him, he had me turn my pockets out. I had Biggs's pipe and tobacco, and a gold-and-pearl ring he'd been wearing, plus some blunt I hadn't had before. But I swear I don't know how any of it got there."
It was a blow to the case, but not a fatal one. “The killer must have placed those things in your pockets to implicate you."
"That's what I told Murbles, but he didn't believe me. So they slapped me in irons and said they were going to maroon me. But the captain and I've been knowing each other since we came to sea, and he said the least they could do was give me a trial. Only nobody wanted to speak for me, and I was going to have to do it myself, until I remembered you were in the hold. Some of the crew were against using you, but Captain said it'd be a shame to miss a chance at seeing a real lawyer in action."
My first thought was that these men were fated to disappointment if they thought I was a real lawyer. My second was that the captain would not be pleased if I failed to adequately defend an old friend. My third, that Father would also not be pleased if I failed, though less likely to toss me overboard. And finally, I dreaded the blow to my sense of worth if I could not help this man.
With all those thoughts, it took a few moments before I could actually devote a few to the task at hand, but Gardner just sat patiently.
"Well,” I said, as if I'd come to some momentous conclusion, “it seems that you had both the means and the opportunity, but did you have any reason to wish Biggs dead?"
He shook his head. “I don't know that I'd spoken two words to him before last night. He only joined the crew a fortnight past."
"Was he forced to join the crew?"
"No, he was an old member of the Brethren.” When he saw my look of confusion, he explained, “The Brethren of the Coast, that's what we call ourselves. This weren't his first voyage, not by a long shot."
"But you had never sailed with him before?"
"That's right."
"What about last night? What transpired?"
"Well, after the captain got done dealing with the prisoners...” He had the good grace to look embarrassed at this, as if remembering how we prisoners had been dealt with. “Afterward, he gave permission for us to make merry, not that we needed him to tell us that."
"I believe I heard evidence of your merriment."
"It were a grand time, that's for truth. Plenty of grog, plenty of food. No women, but with the booty we've earned, there'll be time for that when the voyage is done."
"And in the course of your conviviality, you met up with Biggs?"
"That's right. I was playing dice with Crane and a couple of others—just
for fun, mind, not for money, that being against the articles."
"Of course."
"While we was dicing, Biggs came to talk to Crane. The two of ‘em had sailed together aboard the Fair Wind, off the coast of Venezuela. Biggs started talking about some of the prizes they'd taken, and I told him about some of mine."
"Comparing notes, as it were."
"That's right. I might have made it sound better than it were, mind you, but no more than Biggs and his talk of sacks of doubloons and pearls from Margarita."
"Completely natural to exaggerate,” I assured him.
"That led to talk of battles, and I told him about how we took a merchantman off Hispaniola just a month ago. Now that was a fight!” He smiled at the memory. “The tussle yesterday was nothing compared to that. No offense."
"None taken."
"Biggs knew he'd been outclassed—he got quiet as the grave after I told him how many men had died, and the injuries we took. That was the battle where Crane lost his hand, and that's a story worth telling."
"And after you finished relating war stories?"
"Then the singing started, and dancing, too."
"Perhaps more grog?"
"Plenty more. I don't remember much after that, truth be told, not until I woke up with a dead man next to me.” He shuddered, and having recently shared sleeping quarters with a corpse myself, I could sympathize.
"Did you argue with Biggs?"
He shook his head. “He called me a filthy, lying son of a whore, but that's not the sort of thing you'd kill a man for."
"Any witnesses? Did anybody say they'd seen you kill him?"
"Nobody that I know of. Admittedly, we were all the worse for drink."
"Then it seems to me that our case is secure,” I said confidently. In fact, I was quite confident. There was no evidence against Gardner, other than the coincidence of being found next to the body, and there was no more reason to believe him guilty of killing Biggs than there was of me having killed the poor sailor in my cell. Less so, actually, since there were only three others with opportunity to kill the one, whereas any member of the pirate crew could have done in Biggs.
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