Flint and Silver (22 page)

    "No!" gasped Hastings. "Who's got a tinder box? Who's got a flint? Search, you buggers! Search!"

    There was a desperate moaning and muttering and a clumsy fumbling as the men did their utmost to find that which wasn't there.

    "Hasn't anybody got one?" said Hastings, "Not even you bloody marines? Ain't you all supposed to carry spare flints?"

    "Oh!" said one of the marines, his dulled mind clearing. He dipped into a pocket. "Here you are, sir," he said, and held up a big square musket flint.

    "Pass it here!" screamed Hastings, and hand-to-hand the flint sped back to Corporal Bennet, who was busy retrieving steel and tinder and a stump of candle from the bottom of the boat.

    Then, hands trembling, Bennet struck steel and flint together, shed sparks on tinder, raised a red glow, blew it into a flame, lit the candle and dropped it into the beacon and ran the beacon up its spar. Soon, white smoke was streaming on the wind and the boat was dry, croaking cheers from stem to stern.

    "She's seen us!" cried Povey. "Look, she's coming about!"

    The cheers redoubled and then died. The ship was most definitely coming towards them, but she was flying the banner of Spain.

Chapter 23

25th June 1752

Aboard Walrus

The South Caribbean

    It was night.
Walrus
was plunging and twisting in heavy seas. Sharp-bowed as she was, she was a wet ship in a blow and the fo'c'sle was battened down tight.

    Jobo had lashed the wounded into their hammocks and Long John swayed and swung with the others. He was boiling hot and delirious. The wound throbbed and burned, and worse than that he was tormented by the knowledge he was now a cripple. He groaned and wept and prayed to the God he'd long since abandoned. He begged for his leg to come back. He cringed and sobbed and implored the maker of the universe to make him whole again, and not turn him into a pitiful one-legged ruin.

    And when he couldn't get that, he begged for death. He yelled and swore and called out for an end to it all. He'd have done it himself, there and then, if only he'd had a loaded pistol. So he called out to them all to bring him one. He called to Jobo, and Israel Hands and to Selena. Nobody came, except in his mind. And so he dreamed of Selena. His sanity was hanging by a thread at that moment, but he had just enough wit left, and enough humour too, to cackle with laughter when the desire stirred within him as it always did when he thought of her.

    "Well, John Silver," he said, "there's still one limb sound out of the three." And he thought of the first he'd learned of her, even before he'd met her. He thought of a bill posted on a wall in Charleston harbour, South Carolina:

        He slept for a while, dreaming of her, and then woke suddenly. Flint was there. Silver could tell by the cackling of the parrot and the uneasy scratching it made as it shifted its claws on the cloth of Flint's coat. He opened his eyes. He tried to force away the dull nausea and weakness. It didn't do to be weak in Flint's company.

    "John!" said Flint, in what passed for tones of anxious inquiry. "How are you, shipmate? Missing the limb?"

    Long John fought to remember where he was and what was happening. He looked around. He was under the fo'c'sle, in a hammock. He peered at Flint's blurred figure with the green shape of the bird bobbing and darting its head and nuzzling at Flint's ear.

    "John, my dear fellow," said Flint, "'Tis your old comrade Joe Flint, come to call." There was a smile on Flint's face and a hard fright gripped Long John as he realised that he was alone with Flint. The other hammocks were gone, their occupants either recovered or dead.

    "How long have I been here?" said Long John.

    "Long enough, old friend," said Flint, his big white teeth gleaming in the darkness. Flint could charm the angels when he wanted.

    "Jobo," called Long John, "fetch the rum, you lazy sod!"

    "He's not here, shipmate," said Flint, leaning over the helpless man. "I came down specially, my chicken, just to catch a word with you in private."

    "Jobo! Israel! Geor-" Long John's thin shout, barely more than a whisper, was shut off by Flint's right hand.

    "Now isn't this pleasant?" said Flint. "Just two old comrades together. What a shame it can't last."

    Flint produced a knife with a remarkably long and narrow blade. He shifted so his left hand covered Long John's mouth, clamping like a vice, while the right hand took the blade. Carefully Flint positioned the tip of the stiletto inside one of Long John's nostrils, and there came a fluttering and flapping of wings as Flint's parrot took itself off and found its way out of a hatchway.

    "There," said Flint softly, "I'll do it as quick as possible, shipmate, for old time's sake. But it has to be done, you see, and it has to be done
right
, so that nobody shall know." He tensed for the strike: the swift thrust, crunching through bone and into Silver's brain, and then a vigorous corkscrew to mangle and mince. It could be done in a second. Silver would hardly feel it… would he? And in any case, too much had passed. Too much had changed, and there was no room left for sentiment. Flint tensed again. Sweat broke on his brow. He looked at Silver's yellow-white face and his staring eyes. Flint blinked. It
could
be done and
must
be done. For a third time he tensed to strike…

"What are you doing?"
screeched a loud and furious voice.

    It jolted Flint like a blow. He was proud of his ability to detect those who tried to creep up on him unexpected, and it was galling to be caught out. Perhaps it was because he was so absorbed in his work. But he moved quick enough and the stiletto flickered out of sight.

    "Selena, my dear," he said, without looking round. Long John heard the quick steps and saw her head and shoulders loom above him beside Flint. He saw Flint's big smile and her fury.

    "Israel Hands!" she called. "Come here this instant!"

    More footsteps and Israel Hands appeared. Now there were three of them, blurred and swimming in front of him. It was like a play, a performance in which Long John Silver had no part. They were there: Flint who hated him, Selena who he hoped did not, and Israel Hands who'd been drooling at the mouth for Selena these many months past, but didn't dare touch her, and who now did her bidding like a slave.

    Selena ignored Flint. There was no reasoning with that one. She spoke to Israel Hands.

    "He must be watched night and day," she said, pulling Flint's hand off Long John's brow, where Flint had quickly placed it to give an appearance of affection and concern.

    "Aye-aye, Miss Selena," said Hands.

    "You fix that, do you hear?" she said. "You and your mates: watch on, and watch off, by the ship's bell, all shipshape and Bristol fashion - d'you hear?"

    Selena had never been to Bristol. She didn't even know it was a place, let alone what its
fashion
might be. But she'd been long enough among sailors to learn their language and to bark it out with authority. Flint snorted with laughter at her doing so, but Israel Hands did not. He knuckled his brow and stamped a foot in the lower deck's most formal salute.

    "Aye-aye, Miss Selena," he said.

    "Now, get out of here!"

    "Aye-aye, Miss Selena," said Israel Hands, and vanished.

    Selena glared at Flint. Flint was considering this interesting turn of events. This was his ship. His to command. And yet it was not. It was his and Long John's. Each had his following. Just as Billy Bones was Flint's man, so Israel Hands was Long John's, and each with about half the ship's company behind him. Thanks to the recent skirmish, there were less of each now, but numbers were still equally divided. Flint cursed behind his gleaming smile and wondered how long it could go on.

    He broke off as shouting and laughter came from the quarterdeck. He frowned, cocked an ear and attended for a while. He judged it was merely some horse-play that the men were indulging in. Nothing to worry about. He turned to Selena.

    "Bless you, my dear," he said. "I'll leave you to minister unto this poor Christian, for I fear the Almighty may have forgotten the bearings of him where he lies at anchor." He looked down at Long John. "Isn't that so, my old chicken?" And then he was gone.

    Selena leaned close to Long John and took his hand. The hammock swayed.

    "What did he do?" she said. "Are you hurt?"

    "No," said Long John with great effort, delighted at her interest. A little spark of joy twinkled deep inside him, driving away the dark of pain and weakness that was bearing him down.

    "Drink…" he said, and she disappeared and came back with a pannikin of water.

    "Here," she said, and raised his head so he could drink. Then she laid him back and wiped his brow. The lovely ebony face never smiled. It showed no expression at all. She was a hard creature to read. But her actions spoke, and she stayed for a while, standing guard until Israel Hands came back with Cowdray the surgeon and Jobo the surgeon's mate, who was dripping wet and swaying on his feet.

    "Ah, Mr Silver," said Cowdray, "I rejoice to see you awake." He blinked guiltily and added, "I regret that you were left alone. I ordered this wretch to stay with you." He looked disparagingly at Jobo. "But it would seem Captain Flint gave him a bottle and a guinea, and told him to get drunk."

    "Aye," said Israel Hands, "but we found the bugger, put a bowline under his arms and heaved him over the side on a line to the yardarm, then all hands hauled him up and down and dunked him till he was sober." He leered at Jobo. "You're right enough now, ain't you, shipmate?"

    "Aye…" said Jobo uncertainly.

    "You'd better be!" snapped Selena. "You," she said to Israel Hands, "stay with him. I'm putting you in charge!"

    Cowdray's eyes widened, as Flint's had done, to see a black slave-girl giving orders among men, and Long John tried to laugh. But the effort sickened him and he fainted.

    When he recovered, only Israel Hands and Jobo were there. They were bickering and yarning and playing dice for each other's share of the loot. Long John looked at them in fright. He doubted if the pair of them together could keep Flint off, should he choose to come back.

Chapter 24

3rd July 1749

Morning

The Governor's Mansion

Puerto España, Trinidad

    George Hastings and David Povey sat in the incredibly cool, elegant room and clutched their drinks. Remembering the long thirsty days, Hastings took a swallow. It was some sort of fruit juice, but like no fruit he'd ever tasted. He emptied the goblet and set it on a table.

    Don Felipe Avilia Carreño, Governor of Trinidad, caught his eye and smiled. He spoke slowly, carefully, in Spanish, trying to make himself understood.

    Instantly Hastings struggled to his feet, and Povey got up beside him, blinking and frowning.

    "I'm sorry, sir," said Hastings, "it's no good - we can't speak Spanish."

    "No-no-no!" said Don Felipe and rushed forward to help them back into their seats. Though much recovered, they were still very weak. But at least they were clean - their filthy clothes having been removed and laundered while they slept. Even their uniform coats had been carefully brushed and the brass buttons polished.

    Don Felipe turned at the sound of quick footsteps from

    the corridor outside, and doors swung open to admit a lady followed by two maids.

    Once again, Hastings and Povey shot to their feet, this time entirely appropriately, for they needed no Spanish to tell them that they were in the presence of a great lady.

    As Dona Alicia Maria O'Donnell de Avilia Carreno entered, doors closed smoothly behind her, maids deployed left and right to stand as statues, and her husband the governor stood forward, bowed and kissed her hand. She was a woman in her forties, statuesque and of regal bearing.