by John Drake
"How is he?" said Silver, peering in through the door of the first mate's cabin as Warrington was heaved into his cot by Cowdray and his mate, Jobo. Seeing the bandages and Warrington's closed eyes, Silver knew the answer before Cowdray spoke.
"Unfit for duty, Captain. He's half-conscious and he can't see."
"Bugger!" said Silver.
"Uhhh…" said Warrington, and stirred. "Now is the winter of our discontent…"
"What?" said Silver, as Warrington mumbled on.
"Made glorious summer by this son of York…"
"What's he blathering about?"
"And all the clouds that lowered on our house…"
"It's Shakespeare," said Cowdray. "Richard III."
"Then shut his bloody trap! Give him some rum."
"He's had quite enough of that!" said Cowdray.
"No! No!" growled Warrington, in his slurred voice. "Dost thou think because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?"
Silver cursed and damned and got himself up on deck, and sent for Norton, who was duly escorted up into the light, blinking and sniffing the fresh air. After a brief time on the quarterdeck, making sure Walrus found Upper Barbados, he'd spent the last few weeks below decks, as had McLonarch, and he was not best pleased. That displeasure was evident now, as he stood in the waist, facing Silver and his officers at the quarterdeck rail while the hands looked on.
"Now then, mister," said Silver, "how'd you like to be first mate again? Or shall you go back to the hold as live lumber?"
"Depends," said Norton truculently. "What's your course? What's your trade? And what else will I have to do?"
"You'll have to swim back to Williamstown if you ain't careful, my cocker!"
"Aye!" said the crew.
"Cap'n!" said Allardyce, glaring angrily at Norton, the principal enemy of his beloved McLonarch. "We got to hold council according to articles." He looked to the crew: "These good lads have sailed on trust, ain't you, lads?"
"Aye!" they cried.
"We've slung our hook, and we've come out on the tide… trusting Long John to take us on a cruise…" He paused. "But no bugger's said where we's going, nor why."
"Aye!" they said.
"We held no council ashore," said Allardyce. "But now's the time." Emboldened by the sight of the crew nodding agreement, he concluded: "So… Long John… I akses you to bring up the McLonarch, God save him! Bring him up that his voice might be heard alongside of this sod of a Bow Street Runner!"
"Aye!" cried Long John. "Let there be a full council! I'd have said it myself if nobody else had." Then he added: "And bring up Mister McLonarch an' all."
There was cheering and furious activity as men vanished below to put on their best clothes and collect their arms, and to bring up a chair and table, and to spread the table with the black flag, and to lay open the Book of Articles upon the flag, with pen and ink, and a sand-caster. Soon, only the lookouts and the helmsmen were at their duties, and all hands paraded in silks and plumes, jewellery and buckles, and bearing whatever combination of firelock, sword, knife and hatchet that each man desired in this ultimate, armed democracy where every man was every other's equal. Even Sammy Hayden, ship's boy, had a pair of sea-service pistols stuck in his belt, primed and loaded with ball.
Among the crowd, McLonarch stood out by his height and by the total confidence of his bearing. Norton was constantly glancing his way, wondering and calculating, while McLonarch looked at his enemy just once… and smiled… and looked away as if from some small matter of no importance.
McLonarch watched quietly as these barbarians went through their ceremony, seating Captain Silver at the single chair, raised up on a platform like a throne, and then all hats were doffed but his. McLonarch sneered in contempt… which turned to incredulity at the equality of the proceedings, such that each man was given the chance to speak and be listened to, or to be howled down in derision, if that's what the company desired. And some who were strange and ugly, like Blind Pew the sailmaker, were listened to with rapt attention for their skill as speakers.
The debate concerned the vital matter of where the ship should be heading and to what purpose. McLonarch was amazed that there were no secrets among these people. His offer of a pardon was common knowledge, and the ship's surgeon was asked by Silver to explain his plan — shared by Silver, for his own reasons — to sail to London and there decide what to do with himself and Norton. At this, Norton pushed forward, bellicose and muscular.
"The law must have him!" he cried, pointing at McLonarch. "He's bloody murder! He's anarchy and civil war!" He appealed to their patriotism: "You may be outlaws, but you're still Englishmen! Surely you care for your own land? Surely you don't want — "
But they howled him down. They hated him for what he was, and besides they weren't all Englishmen, and he had no gift of speech.
McLonarch saw that his time was come. He caught Tom Allardyce's eye and nodded. Allardyce nodded back, and began to yell and shout that McLonarch should be heard. Allardyce was consumed with passion for the cause that pulsed in his blood, and his fervent, near-religious conviction was the drum roll and fanfare for what was to come. Thus McLonarch stepped forward, tall and ascetic. Though he faced the mass of heavily armed men alone and unarmed, he remained serene in his dignity and charisma.
His eyes swept over them in such a way that every man present felt that he personally was being addressed. He raised his hands above his shoulders, and a silence fell that was so complete every creak of the ship could be heard, and every chuckle of water under her bow. He stood tall, he took a breath…
He hadn't spoken a word and already they were gaping.
His voice, when it came, was majestic.
It rang with beauty and resonance.
It was poetic and solemn.
It was magnificent.
If he'd read them a cockle boat's bill of lading they'd have been entranced. But he offered infinitely more than that. He spoke of riches in this life, and salvation in the next. He made them laugh, he made them cry, he led them dancing down the flowery path towards…
THE TRUTH OF THE HOLY STUART CAUSE.
Even the Protestants were welcome. Even they might be saved, if only they followed him. By the time he'd finished they were hoisting a noose to the yard-arm for Norton, screaming defiance in Long John's face… and threatening to hang him too.
Chapter 13
Three bells of the middle watch
6th April 1753
Aboard Bounder
The Atlantic
In the dark, heaving night, Mr Braddock the musician — he who knew Flint for what he was — found it hard to see who was waiting for him on the fo'c'sle. Bounder was well named, for while she was extremely fast, no man would have called her comfortable. So Braddock hung on to the pinrails when he could, and staggered from one handhold to another when he couldn't, and tried not to notice the enormous gleaming waves that rose and sank on either side of the rushing ship.
"Ah!" he thought, seeing a wet, glistening figure crouched by the foremast. He glanced behind and around himself. There must be lookouts in the tops, and men at the helm, but he couldn't see any of them: only the sodden decks and whatever tackles and gear he'd got his hands on at any given moment.
"Wheeeeeep!" A soft whistle came from the dark figure. Braddock waved his arm. The figure waved back. He got closer… and closer… with the ship working under his feet, and himself trembling all the while, for he'd never become much of a seaman, and tonight he was afraid of perils worse than the sea.
"Mr Braddock!" said the figure.
"Welles?" said the musician.
"Aye, sir!"
Reassured, he got himself right next to Welles, who was one of the marines, a straight and decent fellow who detested Flint as much as Braddock did, and who had promised to share information that would bring the villain to justice: information to be imparted at this secret meeting. Braddock looked at Welles's face. The marine appeared nervous and kep
t glancing about, which was hardly surprising.
"Did anyone see you come forrard?" asked Welles.
"No," said Braddock, and the marine looked over his shoulder and groaned. Braddock had a sudden moment of fright. Why wouldn't Welles look him in the eye? What if… "Uuuuch!" said Braddock. "Uch! Uch! Uch!" And his eyes popped and his face darkened and his tongue stuck out, and he kicked and fought with the superhuman strength that nature gives to a man who is being strangled.
But it did him no good. The silent figure that had risen behind him had thrown a two-foot length of log-line over Braddock's head, hands crossed to form a loop of it, and a neat wooden toggle made fast to each end of the line. With the toggles gripped firmly in two strong hands, Braddock's efforts to free himself served only to throttle him all the quicker, the thin line crushing his larynx and trachea, and biting deep into flesh to nip the great pumping vessels that fed the brain.
"Ah!" said Flint softly, as Braddock suddenly went limp and hung heavily in the embrace of the cord. It looked as if a sorely troubled heart had given up the struggle and stopped beating. But Flint hung on, just to be sure, just to be safe and only let Braddock fall when his arms could take the strain no more.
Flint looked up. He saw Welles's face and almost laughed. Mr Welles had proved susceptible to an offer of gold, but now he'd seen actual murder, he was clearly regretting it.
"Quick!" said Flint. "Over the side with him!"
"Over the side?"
"Yes! Or perhaps we should take him home to his mother? What do you think?"
Welles groaned again, but set to, and with Flint's help heaved Braddock over the side. The dark body went in without a splash.
"Now, follow me," commanded Flint. "You must be paid!"
"Aye-aye, sir," said Welles, cheering up at the prospect, and the two men groped forward to the bowsprit that stood out over the white water as it gushed and foamed and threw up a constant heavy wetting. In the dim starlight, their slick-wet, tar- coated garments gleamed like sea-lions, and they hung on hard, for the ship's motion was especially severe right up at the bow.
"Come closer," said Flint. "I don't want to shout!"
"Aye-aye, sir."
"No — closer!"
Welles came right next to Flint so that their heads were almost touching. Then: "Back off a little," said Flint. "Give us room."
"Us, Cap'n?"
"Us!" said Flint as Billy Bones's cord flickered over Welles's head, and that straight and decent fellow began his choking. He sprayed spittle in all directions and — being a man with horny fingernails — he clawed blood all round the line that bit into his flesh as he shook with mighty convulsions. But like Mr Braddock he soon fell silent, and Billy Bones dropped him over the bow to be pounded, scraped and over-ridden by the speeding ship.
After their exertions, Flint and Bones crouched silent by the bowsprit for a while. Then Flint threw his strangling-line into the sea and motioned for Bones to do the same.
"Come!" said Flint, when he'd got his breath back, for even he didn't strangle a man entirely without disturbance to his inner peace. As for Billy Bones, he was drowning in a whirlpool of horror and guilt, and his hands shook like a drunkard's.
The two men groped their way back to the small quarterdeck, where the watch was on duty, having seen nothing and heard nothing, for the night was dark and the sea was loud. The watch saluted Flint, and he acknowledged them. Then Captain Flint and Lieutenant Bones straightened their backs — as British officers should — and went to stand beside the weather rail.
"Well, Lieutenant," said Flint, "that removes the lesser threat. And I have taken measures to ensure that the greater one stays nicely asleep."
"How's that, Cap'n?"
"I'm dosing Mr Povey with laudanum… to ease his pain." "Ah!"
"But I think we must now face the truth."
"Truth, Cap'n?"
"We are bound for England, Billy-boy; I can enter two men as 'lost over the side' in the ship's books, but not many more. We must keep up the pretence of being in the king's service, or we'll find ourselves back in irons again." He shook his head regretfully. "Alas, not all aboard are completely stupid!"
"So we're bound for England, Cap'n?"
"Bound for England — and God knows what we shall find there!"
Two bells of the second dog watch
6th April 1753
Aboard Venture's Fortune
The Atlantic
Given the blessing of easy seas and good weather, Miss Cooper and Miss Henderson stood wrapped in their cloaks on the quarterdeck in the soft evening. It was nearly dark, and the light gleamed from the binnacle into the faces of the men at the wheel, with more light shining up from the skylights of the cabins below. The ladies were talking about the usual subject, for Miss Cooper was endlessly persistent.
"Cannot you see how advantageous it would be, my dear?" she said.
"To become an actress?" said Miss Henderson.
"Yes! You were born for it, believe me."
"But I've never seen a play, or been to a theatre."
"Then trust me — I know every theatre in London and all the managers."
"But how can I remember all those words?"
"Bah! The audience will want to look at you, not listen! Half the actresses in London fake their lines." Katty laughed. "Well, the beauties do, anyway!"
Selena sighed. The truth was that she didn't know what she wanted, nor whether she'd done the right thing in leaving John Silver. She knew only that she thought about him every day, and every night. As for the theatre: the idea of standing up in front of thousands of people and pretending… acting … It sounded terrifying, and she shuddered and shook her head.
"Oh dear," said Katty Cooper, with trembling lower lip. "I do hope you shall not disappoint me. For I am quite alone in the world…"
Selena looked at her. Katty, utterly feminine as always, had adopted her pleading look: a tragic expression of innocence wounded. On those rare occasions when people refused to do her bidding, she invariably resorted not to anger but tears, and her helpless, pretty, tear-stained little face became an iron lever that she pulled without mercy, to crush the will of others and force them to her bidding. For Katty was a woman who saw her own point of view with such blinding clarity that she was unaware, even, that others had feelings.
"Hmm," thought Selena, for she was beginning to understand Katty Cooper. But… on the other hand… Katty had been extremely helpful in enabling Selena to be accepted aboard this ship. It was thanks to Katty that nobody now paid any mind to the fact that Selena had come aboard with no story to explain what she'd been doing among pirates. Katty had taken Selena's vague mumblings in response to questions about her past and enlarged upon them with remarkable skill, such that Selena now had a surname and a family — not her real family, who had been left behind on the Delacroix plantation — but a pretend family invented by Katty Cooper, and a sad tale of how she lost them when pirates stormed a merchant ship, slaying all aboard but herself. Even Captain Fitch had shed a tear when Katty told that one.
Selena sighed. What did she want? Even being an actress couldn't be as bad as some of the things that had happened to her aboard Flint's ship… and Long John's…
"Ah!" thought Katty Cooper, reading the signs. She turned off the mask of tragedy and took Selena's face in her hands.
"Listen to me, my beautiful creature," she said, looking Selena in the eye. "If you follow me I will promise you wealth beyond your dreams. You shall never want! You shall never be afraid! The world shall court you and adore you. You shall make towers of guineas and roll… you shall roll… in strings of diamonds."
Katty Cooper managed — just — not to say "roll naked in strings of diamonds", something which gentlemen never failed to appreciate.
"Shall I?" said Selena.
"Oh yes!"
Selena shrugged. In the absence of a better offer, that didn't seem too bad. And there were no better offers available. In fact, there were no
other offers. Not one. So she smiled. Perhaps she might be an actress after all.
And Katty Cooper smiled, too, pleased that the theatre was such useful bait, and a subject of which she knew so much, since she had indeed been an actress herself… until superior opportunities presented. Her tales of the London stage would do to keep Selena happy for now, and in time she would learn as Katty Cooper had learned.
"So let us be happy, my dear," she said. "We are bound for England!"
Yes, thought Selena. Bound for England and the stage. And who knows where that might lead?
Nightfall (there being no watches kept nor bells struck owing to the mutiny in progress)
12th April 1753
Aboard Walrus
The Atlantic
So determined were the hands to hang Norton that, when Silver spoke up for him, Tom Allardyce — white-faced in rage — drew steel and rushed at Silver from behind and swung a blow aimed at splitting his head to the chin.
Which gave Norton his chance. As the two men holding his arms flinched at Allardyce's charge, Norton wrenched himself free, struck left and right with his elbows, smashed a fist into the nose of one who still hung on, then sprang forward to grapple Allardyce from the side in full run, throwing him skidding over, with Norton biting flesh to the bone of the wrist that held the cutlass, and punching with a hard right hand into the soft meat between Allardyce's thighs.
"Aaaaargh!" shrieked Allardyce, then "Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!" as Norton spat out his wrist, took his head by the ears, and slammed it three times into the deck, before leaping up, kicking away the cutlass, and slamming a boot repeatedly and with mighty force into Allardyce's kidneys until he was dragged off by his victim's mates.
"Bastard!" they screamed.
"Gut him!"
"Chop him!"
There was a rush for the quarterdeck companionways, but:
Bang! Bang! Silver let off a pair of pistols into the air, while Israel Hands, Mr Joe and Black Dog instantly lined up alongside him and drew weapons and levelled them at the mob.
