Authors: John Drake
"So!" he said. "I have seen the disgraceful condition of this ship and am resolved to put it right in the name of King George, God-bless-him!"
"God bless him," murmured the hands miserably.
"God bless him!"
roared Flint. "And damn him as don't!"
"God bless him!" they cried, for Flint had them in his eye now, and so did Billy Bones, who instinctively stood beside Flint, with scowling brow and fists clenched in the old way that had never failed him… and Mr Lennox looked on, like a three-legged horse at a steeplechase.
"I'm Flint," said Flint. "You don't know me yet, but soon you shall, and I'll start by sending a team below with mops and buckets to clean away the filth. For I tell you two things: first, that you're all safe from the pestilence, and second, that no man ever born shall suffer as any of
you
shall suffer who disobeys my orders!"
Lennox gaped, for there wasn't even a token resistance from the men. But he looked at Flint and Bones again and understood. They were the very incarnation of the officer caste that the lower deck was bred up to obey. Meanwhile, Flint was still speaking…
"Mr Lennox himself shall lead you to your duties!" he said.
"Aye-aye, sir!" they said.
"Oh?" said Lennox, and "Aye-aye, sir!"
Soon, the bucket brigade was below, while the carpenter and two hands kept the ship on course, enabling Flint to have a private word with Billy Bones, aft at the taffrail.
"Where's Ben Gunn, Mr Bones? You said he came aboard! He survived the smallpox as a child, so he should be among the living."
"Oh, him!" said Bones contemptuously.
"What of him?"
"Went over the side, Cap'n, when we was putting to sea."
"Did he now?"
"Aye, Cap'n: the minute he heard you was aboard."
Flint laughed. "The old rogue! Did he drown?"
"No, Cap'n! Last seen swimming for shore. Going strong."
"Pity. His was a mouth to be closed. Still -" Flint shrugged and turned to other matters "we have begun well, Mr Bones," he said, "but the problem is
hands!"
"Hands to work her, sir?"
"Aye, Mr Bones." Flint looked at the ship with her towering masts and broad yards. She was the biggest vessel he'd been aboard for years, and a seaman's delight. Over eight hundred tons burden, and mounting twenty-eight twelve-pounders, she was a superb modern frigate: lavishly equipped and even boasting copper plating on her hull - a recent innovation which gave greater speed than a normal hull and complete freedom from the ship-worm, that menace of tropical seas that burrowed into timber hulls and ruined them.
"Oraclaesus
," said Flint, savouring the name. "She came to the island with two hundred and fifty-one men aboard, including a commodore, a captain, three sea-service lieutenants, a sailing master, a lieutenant of marines - our Mr Lennox - and six midshipmen…" He smiled. "After misfortunes ashore, she came away with one hundred and eighty- five men, having lost her commodore, a lieutenant, three mids and a miscellany of foremast hands and marines."
Billy Bones shook his head in wonderment.
"How d'you know all that, Cap'n?"
Flint sighed. "Have I not told you, Mr Bones, that I listened to those who came to feed us during our captivity?"
"Oh!" said Billy Bones. "I see."
"Good. And do you also see that, once the smallpox has done its good work…" But here Flint swallowed and faltered, having seen the awful reality of the death he'd inflicted upon this splendid ship.
He looked away.
He hadn't always been a villain.
There had been a time when he was proud to serve his king.
He felt the pull of being a king's officer once more.
Even though it was
supposed
to be a pretence and a sham.
For he'd served aboard ships like this one, had Joe Flint. And aboard this particular ship the crew were England's finest: mostly lads in their teens and twenties. They were hand-picked volunteers, to a man.
And Joe Flint trembled on the brink of remorse.
He trembled a long, hard moment… then:
"Urrrrgh!" he growled like an animal. Ordinary men
wrestled
with conscience, but Flint - who was neither ordinary, nor normal, nor even entirely sane - turned upon
his
in selfish fury. Why should he feel sorry? He who'd been robbed of a vast treasure? He who'd been brutally rejected by the only woman he'd ever loved?
No!
He spat upon conscience, he spurned it and reviled it, he seized it by the throat… and strangled it.
"Huh!" he said, and grinned, and pulled Billy Bones's nose.
"Ow!" said Bones.
"So," said Flint, "our situation is this: the smallpox should have killed nine out of ten, but we were lucky - I counted nineteen men on deck, plus the lieutenant. But that is still dangerously few for so great a ship as this."
"Aye!" said Billy Bones. "I'd want fifty at least, just to sail her, and a hundred or more to man the guns."
"Indeed, Mr Bones." Flint looked out to sea. "Ah!" he said. "See those ships?"
"Aye, sir. Thems are
Bounder
and
Jumper,
the sloops in company with us."
"Each having some fit men still aboard."
"The which we can employ, Cap'n?"
"Yes. But we must avoid gentlemen with long coats."
"Officers, Cap'n?"
"Indeed, for they might think it their duty to remind the hands of what I am."
"What about
them below
? Cap'n Baggot and the rest?"
Flint smiled. "Those unfortunate officers who are
'bad sick but still alive'?"
"Aye, Cap'n."
"Why, Mr Bones, you and I shall visit them… to
ease
their suffering."
Billy Bones bit his lip and looked at his boots.
"Especially," said Flint, "we must visit Lieutenant Hastings and Mr Midshipman Povey, those old shipmates of ours who were witnesses to our past actions, and thereby have the power to put a rope around my neck." He nodded: "And yours, too, Mr Bones. We must see to Hastings and Povey first of all, for our lives depend upon it!" He smiled. "What a blessing it is that we have them safe aboard this ship, laid in their hammocks and awaiting our visit!" He even laughed.
"Oh!" said Billy Bones, suddenly remembering something.
"What?" Flint frowned. Billy Bones radiated guilt.
"Well, Cap'n… I meant to say…"
"Say what?"
"Well, Cap'n, it were a great struggle, a-gettin' of the squadron to sea…"
"Yes?"
"What with so many sick aboard all three ships…"
"So?"
"So
Bounder,
there -" Billy Bones looked at the distant sloop "- well, she had no navigating office^ and what with Mr Povey being so clever a young gentleman, and all others laid on their backs…"
"So?"
"So Mr Povey was given command of
Bounder
and is aboard her now."
Chapter 7
Afternoon (there being no watches kept nor bells struck)
18th March 1753
Aboard Venture's Fortune
In the latitude of Upper Barbados
Silver glared at McLonarch and reached up to pet his squawking bird.
"See here, mister," he said, "I'm in my own bloody service. Mine and these hands aboard, and no other man's, be he
lord, king
or
pretender!"
"But, Cap'n," said Allardyce, "all's changed. There's a new way! All we have to do -"
"Stow it, you lubber!" said Silver. "Did you not hear what he said?" He jabbed a finger at McLonarch: '"Put the dollars back in the hold' - Huh!" he sneered, "Shave mine arse with a rusty razor!"
"Captain Silver," said McLonarch, "may I sit?" And with that he placed himself in one of Captain Fitch's cabin chairs, and drew it up to face Silver.
Fast losing his temper, Silver slammed a broad hand on the desk in front of him and yelled at Allardyce: "Get up on deck and send down some good lads to drag
this
bugger -" he pointed at McLonarch - "out of my sight. And stick the irons back on him, too, for I've had enough of his long, ugly face!"
But Allardyce turned nasty. "No!" he cried, scowling at his captain. "Not a step will I take, till you hear what he's offering!"
"Hear what? He ain't got bloody nothing that I want, and that's gospel!"
"Not even a pardon," said McLonarch, "and the chance to be an honest man?"
Silver stopped dead. He looked at McLonarch, who sat calmly in his chair in the well-furnished stern cabin that even had carpets, pictures in frames, and candlesticks. It had books too, and musical instruments: all fixed to the bulkheads in shelves with wire-mesh doors so the ship's motion shouldn't unseat them, for Captain Fitch lived in style. So it was a fine, heavy chair with carved arms that McLonarch had chosen, and which he occupied like a throne, while gazing down his nose at John Silver.
"Pah!" said Silver.
But McLonarch, the consummate politician, having pumped Allardyce beforehand for knowledge of Silver, smiled at him.
"Captain," he said, "I hear that you were a decent man before you were forced into piracy."
"Maybe," said Silver, frowning.
"And even now," continued McLonarch, "you are renowned as a man of honour, and a beloved leader whom men trust. And one who permits no cruelty to prisoners…" He paused and had the satisfaction of seeing Silver blush. Nodding in emphasis, he continued: "Thus you are still - even now - a decent man."
"Huh!" said Silver, but such was the power of McLonarch's personality, and the aura of aristocracy that hung about him, that Silver had the feeling that he'd just heard the definitive, official pronouncement upon himself, as if a judge in court had spoken.
"Captain Silver," said McLonarch, "what I offer you is my master's royal pardon, together with such pension as shall enable you to become again the honest mariner that you once were, washed clean of all past offences, of whatsoever kind or description."
There was silence. The words were magical, mystical. They were a dream. Silver thought of Selena. He thought of the normal life she wanted, and he was drawn into McLonarch's web, and dared to believe. But then he frowned.
"What about my lads?" he said. "Them what chose me, under articles."
McLonarch beamed.
"God bless you, John Silver!" he said. "Had I entertained the least doubt, it would now be gone. Only such a man as I believed you to be would think first of the men he leads, and it is my pleasure to assure you that the same free pardon shall extend to them."
"See, Cap'n?" said Allardyce. "Didn't I tell you?"
"There could even be more…" said McLonarch.
"Oh?" said Silver.
"Are you a Catholic?"
Silver shrugged. "I was raised that way, my father being a Portugee."
McLonarch nodded.
"Then know that I am empowered by the Holy Father to reward those who assist my sacred mission." He paused as one does who makes a mighty offer. "I am empowered to grant the rank and dignity of the Order of the Golden Spur!"
"A papal knighthood?" said Silver, and twisted under deep emotions. But he looked McLonarch in the eye. "See here," he said, "Bonnie Prince Charlie's shut up in Italy. He had his chance at Culloden, and got beat!" He shook his head. "Give up, milord. Your cause is lost!"
"Lost?" said McLonarch. "Give up? Did Charles II give up when exiled to Holland with the world saying Cromwell had won?
No!
He kept faith for eleven years in exile… yet returned in triumph, with the cathedral bells pealing, the great guns sounding, and the people rejoicing in the streets!"
It was true. Silver was impressed. But he was cautious too, because maybe this wasn't the only bargain in the market?
"Pretty words, milord," he said. "But just for the moment I'm sending you back among the others. I'll spare you the irons, but I'm done talking."
"Well enough, Captain," said McLonarch, satisfied for the moment.