“Druther live,” Tom said.
“All right,” said Hugh. “I’Il do it.”
“Then put up your weapons—you can keep them—and help transfer the cargo to my ship. If you’ve any personal effects you care about, better get them, too. We’ll be scuttling this scow when we’re done here.”
“Aye, sir,” said Hugh, lowering his blade and slipping the club behind his belt.
Jean Lafitte’s current headquarters were on Galveston Island. There Hugh and Tom were given quarters. While he made no friends, Hugh became acquainted with all of the pirate crew. There was some resentment of the newcomers at first, and while memory of their display on the decks of the doomed vessel prevented all but two from carrying this beyond words, those two were thick-armed, heavy-shouldered fellows with the battered faces of brawlers. The burly Hugh outwrestled his man and bashed him a few times till he lapsed into unconsciousness. Tom boxed with his opponent, and though his own nose was broken in the encounter he laid the man out. After that, the two shipmates met with no further violence at the hands of the crew and found themselves on speaking terms with all of them. While no real amiability developed, the men were not particularly amiable to begin with, save when drunk, and then it only took the form of songs, gallows humor, bawdy yarns, and practical jokes. Hugh did not trust himself to get drunk with them, for they were inclined to the setting afire of beards and to the removing of a fellow’s trousers and painting his bum with tar.
Hugh and Tom sailed with Lafitte. There were bloody encounters with merchantmen, for it became apparent that Lafitte’s policy involved leaving no eyewitnesses ever to testify against him. Hugh fought in the boarding of vessels and he fought to defend himself, but he took what small pride he might in the fact that he never executed prisoners. This changed one spring day when they took a British trader.
Three able-bodied prisoners were taken that day. Lafitte faced them—a tall, graceful figure, elegantly clad, one hand upon his hip—and stared into each man’s eyes until they fell. Then, as before, he spoke:
“Gentlemen,” he said, “I find myself somewhat understaffed at the moment. The exigencies of this work do take their toll in manpower. So I’ve a proposition for you. Join my crew. You’ll have a snug berth, all you want in the way of food and drink, and a share of the booty. There will be occasional shore leave in safe ports to enjoy it. It is a dangerous life, but a high one. Think hard, think quickly, and answer me now.”
Two of them agreed immediately. The third, however, asked, “And if my answer is no?”
Lafitte stroked his beard.
“Consider it a matter of life or death, sir,” he replied, “as you make your decision.”
“All my life I’ve done what I had to and tried to be honest while I was about it,” the seaman answered, “though God knows I’ve had my lapses. Cast me adrift or leave me on some isle if you would. I’d rather that than join your crew.”
Lafitte raised his eyes and caught Hugh’s gaze.
“Deal with him,” he said.
Hugh looked away.
Lafitte stared a moment longer. Then, “Now,” he added.
Hugh looked back, meeting his captain’s dark gaze again.
“No, sir,” he replied.
“You refuse my order?”
“I won’t kill a defenseless man,” he said.
Lafitte drew a pistol from his sash and fired it. The man toppled, the side of his head gone red.
“Pitch him over the side,” Lafitte said to another crewman, who moved immediately to comply.
“Hugh, I’m unhappy with you,” Lafitte stated, stowing his pistol and turning away.
Hugh departed and helped to transfer the cargo.
Later, when they had returned to their base, Tom said to him, “Word’s going around you made the captain unhappy.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Hugh replied. “I didn’t kill a man he told me to.”
“I heard things like that have happened in the past, before our time.”
“Oh?”
“Old Jean, he’s a real stickler for discipline. They say that nobody as refused a direct order from him has lived too long afterwards.”
“How’d he do ‘em?”
“Sometimes he holds a sort of court and makes an example of ‘em. Other times he just lets it be known to a few he trusts that he wants that man dead. Someone always obliges and puts a knife in him then—when he’s sleepin’, or some other time he’s not on his guard.”
“You heard he usually gets rid of them pretty soon after something like this happens?”
“That’s what they say.”
“Thanks, Tom. Maybe you shouldn’t be talking to me much now.”
“What’re you going to do?”
“I’ve been thinking for some time about leaving. Now’s as good a time to try quitting this business as any.”
“You can’t steal a boat, Hugh. They watch ‘em too careful.”
Hugh shook his head.
“Think I’ll wait till after dark and swim for shore.”
“That’s a pretty far piece.”
“I’m a pretty good swimmer.”
“The water’s sometimes sharky.”
“Well, that’s a maybe, and staying’s a for sure.”
“What’ll you do when you get to shore?”
“Start walking for New Orleans.”
“I’m coming with you. I don’t much like it here myself. Sooner or later he’s going to ask me to do something like that, and the same thing’ll happen.”
“Make a little bundle of your valuables then. I’ll let you know when I’m going.”
Hugh waited till the others had started their evening drinking before he nodded to Tom and said, “Gonna take a walk.”
They met on the isle’s northern shore, lit by a partial moon and floods of stars. Small waves danced in their light as Hugh and Tom stared out over the waters.
“Looks like a long haul,” Tom said, “but I’m still game. How long you figure before they guess what we did?”
“Morning, if we’re lucky. Sooner, if tonight’s the night someone comes by to get me. Even then, they can’t do much till tomorrow, and we’ll either be drowned, et, or too far gone by then.”
Tom nodded.
“I’m ready any time you are.”
“Let’s be about it then.”
So they stripped, bundled their clothes about their possessions, tied their packs to their backs, and entered the water. It felt cooler than the night’s air, but their strokes were strong and after a time the exertion seemed to push the chill away. They swam steadily landward, and Hugh thought back over the previous months’ piracies. He’d wanted to leave before this, but the danger had held him back. Now he wished he’d left sooner. Stealing, killing, drinking too much every day, and being a prisoner much of the time made him think again of the world’s meanness. There was too much of it, everywhere he turned. He wanted to be alone in a big place, away from his fellows, free. He wondered whether the man he’d refused to kill had had a family. He wasn’t sure he ever wanted one himself. Another way to be a prisoner, maybe.
Crawling through the water, he lost track of time. There was the monotony of the waves, Tom’s steady splashing nearby, and the sameness of the night all around. The two shores were dreams, the crawling was all. One must go on.
At some point, he remembered coming to shore. Now the waters of Galveston Bay seemed the dream, the land they waded toward the reality. He remembered laughing and hearing Tom’s laughter. Then they threw themselves flat, breathing heavily, the tingling of ceased motion dancing over their skins. After a while, they slept.
* * *
…Lying there, still as a stone, he watched the latter end of the procession in its passing, through a haze of fog and trail dust—the lame and the aged walking with sticks, leaning on companions, more squaws with children and packs of supplies. They did take care of their own, he reflected, and he could almost feel a touch of sympathy at their flight from the Sioux, though it was their own cussedness had brought them to this pass. He and Tom had been captured by the Ree on their trek through Texas, but had managed to escape. They were wary after that because of the treatment they had received. But all the wariness in the world didn’t amount to much for two men afoot on a plain when they were spotted again by a mounted party.
They tried hiding in the scrub, but the warriors knew they were there and flushed them quickly. Hugh tried the few words of Ree he had learned during their brief captivity, and his new captors showed understanding of them as well as of his raised open hands and his sign gestures. They made it obvious, however, that they were pris oners by taking their knives and conducting them to be confined in their camp.
They were tied and guarded that night, and while they were given water to drink they were not fed, though they were allowed to dine from their own meagre supply of fruit and roots they had obtained on departing from the Rees. The following day they were not molested, though they remained confined, and they spent the second night under guard, also. A considerable babble of discussion emerged from a nearby tent late into both evenings.
The next day they were brought food and treated with some kindness. They were given fresh garments and led about the camp. As the day wore on, Hugh attempted to communicate with their captors, hoping to win their release, but the only responses he received seemed to indicate that they would be permitted to join in a feast that evening.
The day wore on, and at sunset they were conducted to a gathering of the entire tribe in whose company they were seated. Fires burned at every hand, and the smells of roasting buffalo, venison, and fowls came to them. They sampled every dish, as their hosts insisted that they try everything, that they gorge themselves on their favorite fare.
They were infected by the tribe’s seeming good humor, and began to relax and try to make jokes themselves. Finally, sated and a little drowsy, they began looking forward to the feast’s end, to retiring to a night’s rest. Abruptly then, they were seized from behind by several braves and bound hand and foot with strips of rawhide.
“Hey!” Hugh shouted, then added the word he’d learned for “friend.”
Nobody answered him. Instead, Tom was taken to a tall, upright stake and tied to it. Squaws cut away his garments, stripping him, and heaped kindling about his feet.
“Let the boy go!” Hugh called. “Friend! Friend!”
They paid him no heed, and the women went to work on Tom with knives, cutting away strips of his skin. “Stop! Stop it, for God’s sake!” Hugh screamed, his cries half-drowned by Tom’s own shriek.
The women continued about their business, taking their time, removing patch after patch of skin, occasionally poking and prodding with the points of their weapons. Hugh became acutely aware of the second stake which had been raised, not too far behind the first. He closed his eyes against the sight, gritted his teeth, and tried to blank out Tom’s cries. It did no good. Not seeing was in some ways worse than seeing, leaving even more to his imagination.
The ordeal went on for a long while, till Tom finally pleaded with them to kill him. Even later, they started a fire at his feet and heaped more kindling upon it. Hugh had shouted at them to no avail and had used up his tears early. Now he just watched as his friend writhed within the consuming flames. He tried not to, but his gaze kept returning to the spectacle. Soon it would be over. Then, of course, it would be his turn.
He remembered a small container of vermilion dye which he had borne with him from Galveston island, as it had some commercial value and he’d hoped to sell it on reaching civilization. He hated to see it burned up, wasted, and it would make fine body paint, a thing his captors seemed to favor. What the hell, he decided. Maybe it could do even more for him here.
He groped with bound hands at the place where he carried it at his belt. Painfully, he unfastened its ties. When it came free and he had a grip on it, he raised himself.
Casting the bundle at the chief, he cried, “Here’s a present for you! Hate to see it go to waste!”
The chief stared at the parcel, then extended a hand and picked it up. He removed it from the leather pouch and examined it closely, until he had discovered the manner in which the tin might be opened. When it had been uncovered his eyes widened. Tentatively, he touched the substance with a fingertip, raised it to study it, drew a line with it upon his forearm.
A pair of braves was already headed for Hugh by then, but the chief raised a hand and said something Hugh did not understand. The warriors halted.
The chief advanced then and addressed Hugh, but Hugh shook his head and said, “Present. It’s a gift. I do not understand what you are saying.”
The chief continued to speak, however, finally calling something back over his shoulder. Presently, a brave approached, drawing a knife as he advanced upon Hugh. Hugh gritted his teeth as the blade’s point passed near his abdomen, but the man used it only to cut his bonds.
The brave helped him to his feet, and the chief came forward and assisted him. They guided him back to his quarters, where he sank upon his sleeping skins. The chief said something else then, smiling as he said it, and went away. The man who had freed him remained on guard outside.
He did not think he would sleep easily that night, yet he did. The evening’s events returned in his dreams, and in the morning he recalled awakening several times to the sound of his own voice calling Tom’s name. After a while a woman brought him breakfast, and he was surprised at his appetite. He finished everything and when she brought him more he ate that, too.
The day wore on and he waited. He was fed again at abour noon-time. No one approached him other than the woman with the food. He made no attempt to venture beyond his confines. He sat and thought, about Tom, about Lafitte, the Caribbean, ships, sailing on a bright day, Pennsylvania summers.
Later they came for him and escorted him back to the site of the previous night’s feasting. He surveyed the area hastily, but this time there were no stakes in sight. He moved to settle into the position he had occupied before but was halted by his companion and taken forward, where it was indicated that he should sit beside the chief.
This dinner was different from the previous one in that it was preceded by a speech from the chief and a ritual of sorts where he placed his hands upon Hugh’s shoulders and head several times, struck him lightly with bundles of twigs, bound his hair with a beaded cloth, and finally draped a small skin over his shoulders. Then the feasting proceeded in a jovial spirit with others ofthe tribe passing by to clasp Hugh or lay hands upon him. Gradually, he came to understand that the chief had adopted him, that he had become a member of the tribe, that he was now a Pawnee.