Voyage of Plunder (6 page)

Much as I did not want to admit that Josiah was right about anything, I knew enough to stay silent. Josiah was the only one, it appeared, who knew what I'd done, or rather, what I'd intended to do. In fact, so certain had Josiah been of my intentions, he'd earlier arranged to have his friend on the dock, waiting for me. I knew if the pirates found out I'd meant to betray them, I'd not live to catch my next breath. So I huddled by the rail, wrapped in my blanket, staring at nothing, saying nothing, cursing my miserable life.

One day as I cursed my miserable life, my memory regarding the
Norfolk
crawled back into my mind, spinning its spidery web, despite all my attempts to push it away. I remembered finding the
Norfolk's
manifest on the night my father had announced we were moving to Jamaica. I remembered showing it to my father. Him setting it aside, brushing away my questions, saying,
I'll take care of it later … Daniel, please. Not now.

I wondered,
How on earth would my father have had the manifest in his possession, unless … unless …

Strand by strand, I untangled the web until I could no longer deny the truth.

It was so simple.

My father had known. He'd known what kind of men took supper at the family board. He'd known what kind of men hoisted me onto their shoulders. He'd known what kind of
men gave me treasures—treasures stained with blood. He'd known, and he'd never told me. He'd known, and still he sat in the best pew at the meetinghouse.

A wretched despair stole over my soul just as the heavens opened and sheets of water poured from the sky. I pulled my blanket tighter and hung my head.
Why, Father, why?
Rainwater streamed off my cocked hat and puddled in my lap.

Even so, I love you.

“Hey, Daniel,” someone said, “sitting out here getting soaked to the innards is no place for anybody with half a brain. Go below where it's warmer or you'll catch your death.”

I pulled the blanket over my head.

“Besides,” he added, “today's a celebration. It'll do you good to dance awhile and gamble a bit. I'll even show you how to play dice. And just to be fair, I'll make certain you have a bit of beginner's luck.”

After yammering another minute or so, he went away, to my relief. So did most of the others, making only a halfhearted attempt to get me to join them. Then from beneath me I heard music, soft at first, growing louder as more instruments joined the song. I heard laughter, singing, and the tromp of shoes.

Below me, the waters swirled by. I watched the whorls, the bubbles, and wondered what it would feel like to jump in and have the ocean press about me. It would be vast and numbing. I imagined the ship's hull above me as I sank, watching the ship become smaller, smaller, until it finally disappeared. All around me, it would be silent. Dark. Ended.

A voice startled me. “Daniel?” It was Josiah.

Go away,
I thought.

He thrust a gift under my nose. “I have something for you.” It was wrapped in velvet, tied with a golden cord. “Merry Christmas.”

I blinked water from my eyes.
Christmas? Is it truly Christmas?
Slowly I reached for the package, wondering at the same time if I should really take it or if I should ignore him. Just as slowly I untied it.

The velvet wrapping fell away.

It was a carving of a boy. Made of ivory the figure stood about four inches tall. With a blanket draping carelessly from one hand and a thumb in his mouth, he gazed upward at something unseen. But I knew what he was looking at. I was that boy.

I remembered a night from my childhood when the fire blazed beside me. I remember gazing at Josiah while he carved, while he told me to not move a muscle, that if I was a good lad he would tell me a story. I can't remember if I was good. I can't remember the story. I remember only staring at him. His hair of jet black, tied in a queue at the back of his neck. His rough fingers as he carved and carved. His occasional smile of satisfaction. His beautiful teeth.

I set my jaw, held my hand out over the gray, swirling waters, and released the figure. It fell noiselessly into the water below and sank into vastness, into numbness, its ivory eyes watching the ship grow smaller and smaller. “My family doesn't celebrate Christmas.”

He said nothing and walked away.

The next day, my time at the rail ended.

I was half asleep, wondering whether Faith had recovered from her illness or whether she was with my father in heaven, when suddenly someone ripped my blanket away. “Hey!” I cried indignantly, swinging around to see who it was.

Josiah stood there, his face twisted with fury. Before I could react, he crumpled my blanket into a ball and heaved it into the
ocean. “Get up!” he shouted. When I did not move, he placed a well-aimed kick on my behind. “Get up, I say!”

I scrambled to my feet, my face flushing, aware of the slew of onlookers, most of whom were grinning.

“You have bled long enough! It is time to be a part of this crew! You must shoulder your weight, else I'll toss you overboard as useless cargo!”

I almost told him to go ahead and toss me overboard, but suddenly feared he'd do exactly as he promised. I swallowed hard and mumbled, “I don't know what to do.”

He shoved me toward the foremast. “Climb aloft and keep a lookout. And, boy, whatever you do, hang tight and don't look down.”

The foremast swayed above me like a massive tree with vines, moaning with the brisk wind.
Climb aloft? Keep a lookout? Up there?
“But—but what do I look out for?”

Josiah did not answer, for he had gone. Many of the men still watched me, and there was nothing for it but to do what Josiah ordered. I grasped the shrouds and began to climb, thinking angrily,
He orders me around like I am some servant and he my master. He told me a pirate captain can give orders only during chase or battle, and yet he orders me around as if I have nothing to do except whatever he says.

Distracted by my anger, I forgot Josiah's warning and looked down. The deck lurched beneath me. Had I climbed so far already? I clung to the ratlines and closed my eyes, fighting waves of nausea and dizziness. My body began to shake violently.

Curse you, Josiah Black.

After more clinging, grasping, climbing, and cursing, I finally reached the crosstrees—the lookout station. I tied myself to the mast with my belt, wondering why Josiah thought he could trust
me with such a post. Why should I alert the crew to anything? What did I care about them? If I saw a rock, I would merely brace myself. If I saw a merchant ship, I would warn it away. If I saw a man-o’-war, I would invite its crew aboard and laugh as they hanged all the villains for piracy, murder, and kidnapping.

I stayed tied to the mast for hours. Finally, in the semidark-ness of evening, I climbed down, starving. I ate enough food to fill three men, drank a ladle of stale water, curled up by the rail, shivering, and fell asleep. Being a lookout was hard work.

I awakened once in the middle of the night. A blanket covered me. It smelled of wool, tobacco, and rum. I pulled it over my head, glad of the warmth, and fell asleep again.

The next day and the next found me back at the lookout post. I was beginning to enjoy it. High in the rigging, I felt a separation from the crew, as if I were no longer aboard a pirate ship and was instead in my own world, a world of endless sky and endless sea, where the events of the past few weeks seemed unreal. Like whispers in the night.

One sullen, misty day, I spied something that made my heart sink: a ship. About a half mile distant, blind to our presence, she sailed an intercept course. Unless I warned it away, it would surely suffer the same fate as the
Gray Pearl.
So far, none of the pirates had spotted it. I acted quickly, for I had a plan.

I removed my shirt, a cotton shirt that was fast becoming tattered and grayed. I tied my scarlet-colored stocking to one of the sleeves. From a distance, if I was lucky, it would look like blood. Hopefully, when the merchant ship saw the bloodstained shirt, they would realize who we were and slip away before the pirates were any the wiser.

Silently, I undid my belt. I stood at the crosstrees and waved the shirt above my head.

They saw me at the same time.

The other ship's lookout.

Josiah.

I saw the glint of a spyglass as their lookout spotted me, while at the same time I glanced below to see Josiah staring at me, agape. He strode to the forward rail and cried, “Sail two points off the leeward bow!” Immediately men scrambled to posts.

With every sail sheeted to its fullest, the
Tempest Galley
surged forward. Beneath me the pirates hid behind bulwarks and masts, crouched between cannon. I saw the glint of weapons and the loading of pistols, heard the murmur of anticipation. There was Will Putt, a brace of pistols across his chest, a cutlass in one hand, a pistol in the other, and a grin smeared across his face. There was Josiah, motionless, waiting. He glanced at me, and although his expression did not change, I knew he was angry. Fearing what he might do to me when he had the chance, fearing that his patience with me was finally at an end, I looked away.

To my dismay, the merchant ship stayed her course.

Two hundred yards …

One hundred …

Her yards swung and she loosed her sails. I saw the power go out of her as the helm was put down smartly and her fore topsail backed with the breeze.

A few men scurried about our ship as well, preparing to heave to, pretending to be merchant crewmen following the orders of a merchant captain.

The ships drew abreast.

“Do you require assistance?” cried her captain through a speaking trumpet. “We saw—”

Suddenly the pirates erupted from their hiding places, raised their weapons above their heads, and screamed.

My scalp prickled.

The merchant vessel swung her rudder, but she had no steerage way. Her crew darted this way and that—up the shrouds, down the hatches. “Brace full!” I heard her captain shout. “Sheet home! Sheet home!” Her gun ports opened.

But it was too late. Grappling lines soared from our ship like the silken strands of a spider. Musical instruments snarled like wolves, and my heart thumped with the heavy beat of the drum.

ike cockroaches, the pirates swarmed onto the other ship.

I clung to the mast, watching, paralyzed with terror.

As a body, the sailors of the merchant ship raised their arms in surrender, some falling to their knees, pleading for their lives.

Just then, the merchant captain—a tall, strapping, bewigged gentleman—stepped across the quarterdeck, raised his pistol, and fired at a pirate. The man screamed in agony, clutched his chest, and crumpled to the deck. I screamed too, high as I was, seeing an image of my father lying dead in a pool of blood.
No! Not again!

At first the pirates stood unmoving, as if in shock, as if they could not believe that anyone dared oppose them. But then they
flooded the quarterdeck, enraged, shouting vengeance, and the captain disappeared under the mob of cutthroats. I looked away, unwilling to watch, nevertheless seeing in my mind the blades dripping in blood.

God have mercy upon his soul,
I prayed.

With the death of the captain, it was over.

I watched from above as they heaved the captain's body overboard and began to go through the ship's manifest and scour the vessel for loot. The men of the
Mercury
were invited to join the brotherhood of pirates. A few came forward. One man was forced to join, as it was discovered he was a musician and the pirates needed music. Music for dancing, they said. And music for killing—music so horrifying God himself begged for mercy.

I clung to the mast.

Throughout the rest of the day, while the
Mercury
was pillaged, I dreamed with my eyes open, staring at the horizon. I saw pirates swarm like cockroaches. A dignified merchant captain raising his firearm. Pistols belching bullet and powder. Men on their knees, begging for mercy. I squeezed my eyes shut, ignoring the calls from below for me to come down. That there was food and fresh water and a prize to be had. That they had no hard feelings because I had fallen asleep on my watch. Because I had not warned them. That little Daniel Markham was their friend. That they knew I wouldn't let it happen again. But soon they forgot me, for as night descended, the music and dancing, the games and gambling, began. Roars of drunkenness continued through the night, spluttering laughter, a fight or two, quickly broken up.