Flint and Silver (31 page)

    There were seventy-one chests of gold coin;

    There were one hundred and sixty-five chests of silver coin;

    There were four hundred and forty-six bars of silver.

    Men gaped and stared. They pushed back their hats. They scratched their chins. They goggled and blinked and wondered. A dull murmuring rose from the mass of men, clinking and glittering in their finery - for they'd come ashore in their best rig for the occasion. Fearful concentration was on most faces as they bent to the inevitable question.

    Stood together in their long blue coats, their leaders were at the same game. Even Flint's parrot seemed to be calculating.

    "Bugger me!" said Billy Bones. "What's it all worth, Cap'n?"

    "A very great deal, Mr Bones," said Flint, and turned to Parson Smith. "Mr Smith, have you made the calculations I asked of you?"

    "Ah," said Smith, "ahem!" And he studied his sheaf of papers. He'd laboured long and hard over these calculations, and now was his moment of fame. "Captain," he said, "I have made efforts to weigh the cargo…" He pointed to a neat mechanism of spars and ironwork, improvised by the ever-adaptable skills of seamen. Silence fell as the hands realised the subject of which he spoke and gave themselves up to intense concentration.

    "We have built a balance, using six-pounder shot as weights, and I have weighed each chest and box with the help of Mr Sawyer's men, whom I commend to you for their efforts."

    "Well done, Mr Sawyer," said Flint.

    "Aye-aye, Cap'n," said Sawyer.

    "Indeed," said Parson, gravely, "and here is my tally…" He fumbled with his papers. "Of gold coin we have a total of ninety-six hundredweights. Of silver coin we have a total of two hundred and twenty hundredweights, and of silver bars we have approximately two hundred and nineteen hundredweights."

    He paused and looked around his audience, swelling with importance.

    "As you will appreciate, where the chests and boxes are concerned, those weights are inclusive of the containers themselves, though these will be but a small proportion of the total. You will also appreciate that all weights are approximate, given that our standard of measurement was no more than common roundshot."

    "Aye," they murmured, still deeply in the dark.

    "So give us a sum, Mr Smith," said Flint. "A sum in English pounds, however approximate."

    "AYE!" they cried.

    Here Parson faltered. He gulped and sweated. He polished his spectacles on a shirt-cuff. He fumbled among his papers.

    "The problem is, Captain, the nature of the goods. Considering first the gold coin…"

    "Ahhh," said the audience, eagerly.

    "Taking that example," he said, pointing to one particularly large chest - obviously oriental, with foliate brass hinges and beautiful orange lacquer-work. "I have opened that, and found it to contain the coinage of half the world. There are Georges and Louis d'ors, doubloons and moidores, and the faces of every king of Europe these past hundred years. Each has a different degree of fineness - which is to say content of gold - and may not be compared simply by weight. Thus each -"

    "No doubt," said Flint, not pleased. "What about the silver coin? That's Spanish dollars. Give us your tally of them!" "AYE!"

    "Ah! Ah!" said Parson. "There, too, we come to grief, for the dollar has different values in different places. In England it passes at about five shillings, in Massachusetts at six shillings, in Pennsylvania at seven shillings, and in New York at eight or nine. It depends heavily upon the availability of silver in the place concerned. There is a great crying up of the silver dollar, sir, throughout the colonies."

    A nasty growl came from the hands. Flint frowned. Billy Bones and Flint's parrot - attentive to their master's mood - blinked and shuffled, the one reaching for his cutlass, and the other moaning in anticipation. They didn't quite look at one another and share the moment, but it was damned close.

    "Am I to understand, Mr Smith," said Flint, "that you cannot make even a
guess?
"

    "No, sir," said Parson. "But the calculations, sir, they are… sir, most complex… sir…" Parson licked his lips, he looked into the depth of his papers. He found no answer there, and he began to tremble.

    "Bloody Parson!" cried a voice from the deep of the crowd.

    "He's thievin' it, that's what!" said another.

    "Soddin' lubber!"

    "How much have you stole, you bugger?"

    "How much have we got left?"

    "Avast!" cried Silver, stirring out of his sulk. "Belay that!" He stumped forward from where he'd been standing, a little separate from the other blue coats. He pulled off his hat in irritation. He wiped his brow and clapped on the hat again.

    "Why, John!" said Flint, with a sarcastic smile, "Are you joining us, at last?"

    "Maybe I am, maybe I ain't," said Silver and jabbed a finger at Parson Smith. "But shiver my timbers if I'll stand idle while this bum-sucking lubber pisses in our grog!"

    "Go on, Long John!" said Israel Hands.

    "Long John!" cried the mob.

    "Now see here," said Silver, "this is a case for good round figures. First the gold coin…" He looked at Smith. "You say we've got ninety-six hundredweight of coin?" Smith nodded. "So," said Silver, "bugger your 'degrees of fineness' - let's say it was all in English guineas. That ain't precious accurate, but it's good enough. It's all bloody gold at the end of the day."

    "Aye!" said the hands.

    "Well," said Silver, "a hundred pounds' value, in English guineas, weighs roughly thirty ounces of weight, and there are roughly eighteen hundred ounces in a hundredweight…" he paused and looked round his audience "… as any gentleman of fortune knows."

    They grinned guiltily, like schoolboys caught out not knowing their lessons.

    "So," said Silver, "thirty goes sixty times into eighteen hundred, so a hundredweight of guineas is worth sixty times a hundred pounds, which is six thousand pounds. And since we've got near enough a hundred hundredweights of it, that means we've got - in gold coin - close on… six hundred thousand pounds."

    There was a deep gasp.

    "As for the dollars," said Silver, "each dollar weighs an ounce, and there's eighteen hundred of them to the hundredweight too. We've got two hundred and twenty hundredweights…" he frowned and closed his eyes an instant "… which makes three hundred and ninety-six thousand ounces. If we takes even the lowest value for dollars - the value in London, which is four to the pound - that's still close on… one hundred thousand pounds."

    Another gasp and he turned finally to the stacked bars of silver.

    "And it's near as damnit the same for them too! About two hundred hundredweights of silver, or… another hundred thousand pounds."

    Now they were awestruck and helpless before such colossal sums of money, and all of it in precious metal.

    "Aye, shipmates," said Silver, "I'll leave you to work out your shares, for I'm done and buggered, and I've said enough. But the grand total must be at least…
eight hundred thousand pounds.'"

    He was right about the arithmetic. He was wrong about saying too little. He hadn't said nearly enough. Not by a long way. The men were brimming with respect for him. They were as grateful as if he, personally, had conjured the money out of the air for them. If he'd seized the moment, he'd have won them back and dumped Flint's burial plan into the bog-house pit where it belonged. But he said nothing. He was still grieving over the loss of Selena and cursing himself for losing the previous debate.

    So Flint seized the moment. He'd read the men's mood precisely and suffered a fearful stab of fright. But he bounced back fast and went among the men, laughing and joking, and calling them by name, telling them what wealth they'd enjoy, calling for food and drink, and proclaiming a rest day… And since, as ever, Flint was irresistibly charming whenever he chose to be, they hoisted him shoulder high and carried him round the camp, cheering and waving, with Billy Bones following behind, lost in joy at the triumph of the moment.

    Silver gave up completely after that, and proceeded to get heavily drunk when the rum went round. Flint smiled happily and pressed on with the rest of his plan.

    "Now, shipmates," he said, gathering them together, "here's how we shall continue. First we shall carry the goods off the beach, to an approximation of their three separate resting places: one for the gold, one for the dollars, one for the bar silver. That is a task which shall need all hands, in three crews. Then we shall draw lots for a final crew of just six men, which shall complete the burying in the final, secret places."

    "Aye!" they said, nodding wisely - all except Silver, who was sitting on a barrel all by himself, emptying a mug.

    "All hands but the lucky six and myself," said Flint, "shall then return to the ships and watch for my signal there -" he pointed to a big spar, raised up as a flag post by Sarney Sawyer's men, with a black flag waiting to be run up to the truck.

    "All shall watch for the signal. And until it goes up, none shall interfere with the works ashore. Is that agreed?"

    "Aye!"

    "And is that sworn upon our articles? Sworn as free companions and gentlemen of fortune?"

    "Aye!"

    Flint congratulated himself. He smirked and tickled the parrot. He was so proud of himself. He'd won it all. He'd mastered John Silver, and done it with Silver's own jolly companions' lore. In the joy of the moment, Flint was moved to add a few more words which were not John Silver's lore but his own. This was entirely unnecessary, and a considerable mistake.

    "Thus
Lion
shall guard
Walrus,
" he said, "and
Walrus
shall guard
Lion,
and either shall fire into the other, should a landing party be seen going over the side."

    "Aye," they said, and looked at one another, and were reminded - from that moment on - that they were not one crew of jolly companions, but two crews of rivals.

Chapter 33

5th September 1752

First dog watch (c. 5 p.m. shore time)

Aboard Lion

The southern anchorage

    It took six men to put Billy Bones in irons.

    Two or three others went down, battered by Billy's fists as the tangle of bodies rolled across the main deck, and Silver clumped about yelling and bellowing while those not engaged in the fight shouted encouragement and blessed their luck that they'd not been chosen for this particular duty.

    Finally, when Billy Bones's strength was exhausted and men were hanging on to each of his limbs, Israel Hands hauled off Billy's shoes and put a pair of U-shaped iron hoops over his ankles, then ran a short rod through eyes in the ends of the loops. One end of the bar had a head that wouldn't pass through the eyes, and the other end Mr Hands hammered over so it wouldn't go through either. That left Billy Bones's feet firmly fixed together so he could stand - or hop - but not walk. He was as firmly clapped in irons as any seaman ever had been.

    "There you are, Mr Bones," said Israel Hands, "all snug and tight."

    "Go fuck your mother," said Billy. "I'll do for you yet, you bastard!"

    "Not if I do you first," said Israel Hands, and added mockingly, "Billy-my-chicken!"

    Billy Bones found strength to shake off some of the men and lunged forward in a ferocious attempt to get a stranglehold round Israel Hands's neck.

    "Avast!" said Silver. "Haul off, Mr Hands."

    "Aye-aye, sir!" said Hands, but sneered at Billy Bones sideways when Long John wasn't looking.

    "You men," said Silver to the six holding Billy Bones, "take him - careful, mind - and get him below to the hold. And you, Mr Hands, come with us and bring your chains and your hammer."

    So they took Billy Bones below, those he'd walloped a thousand times with the rope's end. They took him below with many jolly bumps and cheerful knocks, and they heaved him on to the ballast like a sack of collier's coals. Then they ran a chain between his legs and his irons, and secured him to a timber, and left him sitting on his arse with a lantern to see by. He was a sorry sight: covered in blood and bruises, clothes ripped, hair breaking loose from his pigtail, and one toe poking white and comical from a hole in his stocking. The fall of one who'd been the terror of the lower deck drew jeers and laughter from all sides.

    "Belay that, you swabs!" cried Silver. "Get about your duties!" Silver frowned. The trouble was, lying five days at anchor waiting for Flint to finish with his burying, most of them didn't
have
any duties and the ship was full of idlers. Worse still, the whole crew had seen Silver make a considerable fool of himself and now thought less of him. Silver sighed as painful thoughts filled his mind, and he tried to fix on the business in hand.