Flint and Silver (29 page)

    All hands were gathered aboard
Walrus,
and since this was an exceedingly important occasion, they were turned out in the splendour of their full dress: silken sashes and soiled coats, ruby rings and filthy fingernails, ostrich plumes and sweat- stained hats, glittering earrings and knocked-out teeth. And of course, they were heavily armed. At minimum, every man bore a brace or two of pistols and a cutlass, and on top of that there were hatchets, dirks, muskets, knives, and such other arms as the individuals fancied.

    Flint, as always, wore the blue coat and bright buttons of an officer, and a hat so laden with gold lace that it was a wonder his head could support it. Unlike his men, he was sparkling clean. His bucket-top boots were shiny and sleek. His shirt was white with fresh-water laundering and his chin was close shaven. Under his arm was a double-barrelled coaching carbine, and gripping daintily on his shoulder, the brilliant green of his parrot, ducking and bobbing its head and occasionally muttering in Flint's ear.

    Long John Silver, while not aspiring to the elegance of the Commodore, as Flint now called himself, was his usual, neat self. He too wore a blue officer's coat and, while he must now lean upon a crutch instead of standing square on two feet, his tall figure overshadowed Flint. His free hand - the one not encumbered with the wooden staff - was grasping his belt conveniently close to his pistols. So Silver and Flint looked at one another, and smiled careful, political smiles. Each man was backed by his followers, and each man - at a purely personal level - was almost sure that he could draw and fire and drop his rival before the other could reply… Almost sure, but not quite.

    As the two factions crammed aboard
Walrus,
Selena stood apart and aligned with neither. She wore the same clothes she always wore, the outfit she'd settled on, by native wit, as being the most suitable for a single woman among so many men: loose britches to the knee, and a shirt that covered both arms and throat, worn outside the britches both for coolness and to hide the shape of her figure. Nonetheless, when Silver's party came over the side, they ogled her fiercely and whispered to one another, grinning and licking their lips.

    At first, Silver couldn't take his eyes off her, looking for some sign, or a look, or a smile. But he got none, and so he forced himself to pay attention to Flint. This was just as well, for Flint looked at nothing other than Long John Silver.

    The meeting between the two men was very painful, and all present felt the strain of it. What's more, the peace between the two sides was straining like an anchor cable that's a whisker from snapping under load. One false word on either side would have been sufficient to start a slaughter. It was an unholy business, totally unlike the moments before normal fighting, when the two sides are strangers. This time, it was old shipmates facing one another.

    In some cases there were friendships between the men in either party. In other cases there were scores to settle and injuries to repay. Furthermore, should it come to the extremity of cold steel, then each man had a very good idea who was better in a fight than himself. If it came to it, the thing would be a nasty little civil war. In preparation for it, men felt for their weapons and measured their chances:

    Can't fight my old mate Conky Carter…

    I'll pistol that bastard Jos Dillon. Thieving sod…

    I'll not face Billy Bones. Any o' the others, but not him…

    He's a lead-footed swab, that Black Dog. I'll do for him…

    For Flint and Silver, upon whom depended the decision to fight or to talk, the strain was heaviest of all. Each man still felt the pain of a shattered friendship, and grief at the loss of so great a comradeship. But more than that, each was afraid of a world without the other. They'd grown so used to depending on one another that they were frightened to be alone, and so they stood ten feet apart and stared into each other's faces, wrapped so deep in their own thoughts that they visibly started when Billy Bones came forward and raised his voice.

    "Gentlemen of fortune, and jolly companions all!" he cried. "Silence on the lower deck and let no man strike another, on pain of the yardarm, during this free council of free men."

    Billy Bones had long since swallowed and digested all the lore and custom of those who'd sailed under Mason and

    England. As far as he was concerned, it was the official way for things to be done. In front of him was a small table, spread with the skull and crossed bones of the black flag. On this was laid - like a Bible on an altar - the Book of Articles under which the company sailed. Billy Bones now respected these things as once he had respected the Union Jack and King George's head on a guinea piece.

    "Hats off and give silence for Commodore Flint!" he cried, and there came a rustle of movement as hats were removed.

    And then, with the beginning of these formal proceedings, miraculously the tension lifted and everyone let go of their knives and pistols and muskets, and all hands relaxed. Such is the power among men of the images and symbols of authority that Billy Bones was not so far wrong after all.

    And so the great debate began.

Chapter 31

23rd August 1752

Aboard Walrus

The southern anchorage

    "Thank you, Brother Bones," said Flint formally, and stoodforth as the only man present still wearing his hat.

    He looked around the dense-packed mass of armed and gaudily clad men, and he spoke with a strong voice that all could hear.

    "The purpose of this free council," he said, "is to agree finally the plan whereby I propose that our goods be buried safe ashore in this secret place -" He pointed ashore to the green, sweltering island with its line of hills and hidden mysteries. "This wise step shall enable us to put together, in one stroke, such a fortune for each man as shall make him rich for life!" There was a stir among the men at this. The time was come for debate, and the assembled members screwed up their minds to the process.

    In many ways the assembly was far more democratic than the one which sat beside Father Thames in London, for no man aboard
Walrus
had bought his way in, or was subservient to the will of a political party. And while those aboard
Walrus
had little education - only ferocious prejudices and ignorant opinions - exactly the same applied to the members at Westminster. There were even further similarities: each member had one vote, all motions were decided by simple majority, and decisions were usually arrived at by the previous and secret leverage of promises, threats and bribes: the standard practice of every legislative assembly that has ever sat in the entire history of mankind.

    On occasions, however, this time-honoured system breaks down, and the debate over the burying of
Walrus's
goods was one such. The reason for this was that Flint - who was for the motion - had been denied access to half the members who were aboard
Lion,
while Silver - who was against the motion - had been denied access to the half aboard
Walrus.
This left only the wildly unpredictable system of members being obliged to listen to the arguments and make up their own minds on the day. But nobody should blame these gentlemen of fortune for turning to so desperate a resort, since the same thing occasionally happens even in the House of Commons.

    Flint spoke first and laid out his case.

    "Brothers," he said, "let's bury what we have, here and now, so we can't lose it by storm or misadventure." He paused for effect, and looked around at those present. "And most of all, my chickens, so we don't lose it by spending the whole pile during the first week in port. For isn't that what you always do?"

    "Aye!" they said, and grinned and nudged one another and nodded.

    "So," said Flint, "we bury the goods, then we beat up and down until we have another cargo as good as the present one, and we bury that too, and maybe another besides. And then we return, and lift the whole lot, and divide it up - fair shares for all - and then we go home to England and live like lords for the rest of our lives!"

    "Aye!" they roared.

    "A carriage and pair for every man!" cried Flint, and others of his men, duly prepared, joined in.

    "Ten thousand acres of rolling England!"

    "A great house with servants and gold plate!"

    "An alderman's daughter for a wife, and a plump tart every Sunday!"

    "AYE!" The hands laughed and cheered, and pressed forward to shake Flint's hand: Silver's men and Flint's together. The rivalry between the crews was vanishing like a joint of beef under a dozen carvers.

    "Silence on the lower deck!" cried Billy Bones. "All hands and jolly companions give silence for Captain Silver!"

    Brother Bones was at his most officious, like a lord mayor at the opening of a home for orphan paupers. He was grimly determined to be fair to all comers, no matter how undeserving. Give a man public office and he'll bust himself living up to it - at least as far as public display is concerned. So Silver stumped forward, the long crutch thumping on the deck, and his one leg swinging behind. The cheers for Flint were drowned by cheers for his rival, and Billy Bones waved his hands to hush them into silence. This was willingly given and they listened to what Long John Silver had to say.

    "Brothers, one and all!" he cried. "Answer me one question and I'll haul off and not get myself athwart the hawse of this plan, no more." There was an interested murmuring about this, and a few jeers from the back, where those out of Long John's sight found the courage to oppose him. "One question, brothers," repeated Silver. Balancing on his one leg, he beat the deck twice with the stave of his crutch. "ONE QUESTION!" he cried.

    Now there was even more murmuring and jeering, and Flint sneered and tickled his parrot's feathers. This didn't sound like much of a speech.

    "Below hatches in this ship," said Long John, "leaving aside the bar silver…" Profound silence fell over the company. Long John had struck a spike into the one subject that overwhelmed all others in importance. "… there's such a pile in gold and silver coin as we don't even know how much it is!

    Such a pile as the hold won't take no more. Such a pile as a few more drops the same would sink the bloody ship!"

    He looked around and nodded to himself.
Aye, you lubbers,
he thought,
that's made your ears stand up.
He raised his voice again. "Seven years I've been a gentleman o' fortune, and others among us longer than that! And
never
has any man of us seen such a pile as sits below these planks!" He slammed the staff of his crutch booming down on the deck. "Lads, it's gelt that kings'd give their daughters for! It's gelt to build navies! It's gelt to raise armies!"

    Flint gulped in alarm as Long John's oratory got into its stride.

    "You could buy Savannah with it! You could buy Jamaica with it!" cried Long John. "You could buy half of bloody England with it!"

    Silver nodded grimly; by thunder, he'd got 'em now. Their tongues were hanging down to their boots.

    "There's roughly a hundred and forty of us here," he said, "leaving aside the extra shares for cap'ns and mates. But even so, the pile's so great that every man shall take enough to live out his life in rum and pickles, and pork and tarts, in his own fine house with his own servants, and his family provided for after he's gone.

    "But!" he said, falling into the style that another famous speech-maker had used elsewhere, "Commodore Flint says you'd spend your share in a week, and Commodore Flint is an honourable man. So, if you'd spend that much in a week, why not twice that, or ten times that?"

    Now they were nodding. Such wealth was beyond their understanding, but they'd got the main point. The likes of them would blow their pile no matter how tall it stood.

    "So," said Silver, "the whole idea o' burying the goods don't make no sense, brothers. You may as well heave it over the side and mark a cross on the sea with ink, in the hope o' coming back to find it."

    "Aye!" they said, and they turned and growled at Flint with the sullen, stupid faces of fools who think they've been duped.

    "Avast!" cried Flint. "Avast there, mateys!"

    "Silence for the commodore!" thundered Billy Bones.

    "Aye!" cried a few others - those who'd believe shit was gold if Flint told them. "Let's hear the commodore!"

    So Flint got a hearing. And he exerted himself mightily and worked wizardry with words. In all truth, Long John gave the better argument from first to last. But Flint was the better speaker. Flint made them laugh with jokes about one-legged men. Flint made them drool for a triple fortune. And Flint made them afraid of losing their all if they didn't bury it safe in the ground.

    But more important than all of that… and the thing of all things which won the day, was the doomed, crass willingness of mankind to be seduced by beauty.