Flint and Silver (33 page)

    "So sleep well, like the good fellows you are," he said, grinding his fingernails into his palms so that the pain would kill the laughter. "And don't be afeared of anything in the night, for we shall set a guard as before… even though I doubt there's much to worry about, these days," and he peered out thoughtfully into the night.

    His words set the mood. His manner sent signals to the others, and they too squinted out into the dark, though they knew not what for, since none of them had ever been on the island before.

    "I know this place, lads," said Flint. "I was here years ago. It offers a safe anchorage, with good water to fill the butts, and a fine stand of timber for spars and planking, and with goats for fresh meat besides…" he paused and looked into the eyes of each man in turn. "But every night or so, we'd lose a man…"

    Flint had himself well in hand now, and he was playing them like a flute.

    "We never did find the cause," said Flint, "though we posted guards, and double guards, and doubled them again." Flint shuddered as if some evil thing had walked past in the dark. "All we did know, lads, was that it wasn't just men. Not savages even… but something worse." He waved a hand towards the dark woods. "Some said it was hairy apes that hid in the depths of the forest and only came out at night. Others said they'd seen… things…"

    There was dead silence now from his little audience. Meat and drink were laid aside and they gaped at him open-mouthed with terror and wished themselves safe aboard ship. In their own element, with their mates around them, facing dangers they understood, they were brave men; but not here, not against the unknown and the occult. Especially the latter.

    "Being as it was a king's ship," continued Flint, "we had marines to do the soldiering for us, and they were our guards. One night a whole company of them gave a volley out into the dark, all together at ten paces, when a dark shape was seen creeping towards our camp. But not a hair or a drop of blood did we find in the morning. After that, why, some of the men went looking for silver to cast into bullets."

    "What for?" said Taylor nervously. "Why'd they do that?"

    "Why, Rob," said Flint, "I'd have thought you'd have known. 'Tis a proven fact that a silver bullet will kill where a lead bullet will not… where creatures of the night are concerned… things that are unholy, if you take my meaning."

    They did take his meaning. They took it into their bones, and their teeth fairly chattered in fright. But Flint merely shrugged his shoulders and sighed. "That's the long and short of it, lads, so let's be merry again and empty the bowl, and eat hearty. For who knows what the morrow will bring?" He smiled his great smile again, and sat down and helped himself to more food. He ate hearty, just as he'd bid the others to do. He did, but they did not.

    "Cap'n," said Howard.

    "Aye?"

    "How was it done?"

    "How was
what
done, Henry?"

    "Them as was killed…"

    "Stow it, Henry!" said Fraser. "No call to talk about that."

    "Aye," said Taylor and Evans.

    "Various ways," said Flint, shaking his head mournfully. "But strangulation mainly."

    "And?" said Howard, unable to leave the thing alone.

    "Oh, bless you, Henry," said Flint, with every appearance of kindly concern, "I'm not sure you'd really want to know. But nasty ways, and silent ways." He appeared to notice for the first time that none of the others were eating or drinking.

    "Why, lads," said he, "is none of you hungry? There's work to be done on the morrow. Eat hearty! Drink deep!"

    But the merry mood was gone and a dread and fear of the powers of darkness had fallen on the wretched six. Seafaring men have been superstitious since time began, and more susceptible than most to tales of supernatural horrors. After all, they were innocent of education, they lived rough and dangerous lives, they were constantly at risk of death from the anger of the sea, and added to that they really
did
see things beyond the ken of landsmen. So even at the best of times they believed in mermaids and sea-serpents, ghosts and spirits and the lost souls of drowned mariners calling to them out of the bodies of sea gulls. And that was safe at their own mess tables with the grog going round.

    Flint saw the terror in their eyes and, yet again, he nearly spoiled it by laughing. But he kept a straight face as they huddled together and drew their weapons and fumbled with them. Howard spilt the priming of his pistols by checking it, and then could barely reload because of his trembling fingers.

    Evans cut his thumb trying the edge of his knife, and Fraser and Taylor put an arm around each other, seeking comfort, while Skillit chewed his thumb and whimpered like a child.

    "Howard'll take the first watch," said Flint. "Two turns of the half-hour glass, Henry." And he pointed towards where their boat lay, out in the darkness fifty yards away and invisible in the deep black gloom. "You'll find the glass in the boat, Henry, so up-anchor and fetch it, like the good fellow you are!"

    Howard swallowed and stared into the dark, imagining what might be out there, waiting to snatch him away with its claws, the instant he set foot outside the firelight.

    "At the double now, Henry!" said Flint firmly. "There's nothing there, lad. Not that I can see… though you're a younger man than me and may have sharper eyes."

    Howard gave a moan and stared between his knees at the sand, and never moved. Neither did Evans, when he was told, nor Fraser nor Taylor, nor Skillit nor Cameron either, and all the threats and cajoling of their captain could not make them go. They sat in stark terror, biting their lower lips and looking away when spoken to. Flint cursed them thoroughly, then got up himself.

    "Why, you cowardly lubbers," he said. "Will you make me go myself? Damn you for a set of yellow-bellied codfish!" He shook his head sadly. "I'd wager a thousand pounds there's nothing out there just now, for it was always in the small hours before dawn that they used to come, whatever they were, so I shouldn't wonder if we aren't safe for
hours
yet."

    So he grumbled and sighed and finally strode off, to a sudden and pathetic chorus:

    "Don't go, Cap'n!"

    "Please, Cap'n!"

    "Don't let them buggers come!"

    "Don't leave us alone…"

    "Bah!" he said, and ignored them, and vanished into the dark, leaving only the sound of his trudging feet behind him.

    Soon even that stopped, and then the night was silent. The six men strained their eyes to see where Flint had gone. They saw nothing. They heard nothing. Seconds stretched into long minutes.

    "Where's he gone?" said Taylor.

    "He could've been there and back ten times by now," said Howard.

    "P'raps he's lost his way?" said Fraser.

    "P'raps something's got hold of… got him… got hold… got…"

    Evans couldn't bring himself to say it: not fully, not quite, for fear that the saying of it would somehow conjure up the things he feared.

    "Shut your trap!" said Skillit. "There ain't nothing wrong. Cap'n's missed his way, that's all. I'll give a holler." He drew breath and let go with a mast-head bellow:

   "AHOY THERE! FLINT, AHOY!"

       Silence. Nothing answered. Only the insects and the booming surf. But then…

    "What's that?" said Taylor suddenly.

    "What?" said Howard.

    "There!" said Taylor. He pointed a trembling finger.

    "I can't hear nothing," said Cameron.

    "Nor can't I," said Evans.

    "Nor…" began Fraser, then, "Gawdamighty!" he said. "I hear it!" He heard it all right, for coming towards them was a heavy, shuffling, dragging sound and harsh, slow breathing as if of some beast. It was faint and some way off, but it was distinct, and every man of them could hear it.

    "Who knows a prayer?" said Taylor, who'd had a church- going mother.

    "Fuck that!" said Howard. "Pistols, boys!"

    There was a feverish trembling and drawing and clicking of firelocks being made ready. But the noise stopped, almost as if the thing had heard them, and for several agonising minutes the six men stretched out their arms, a heavy sea-service pistol in each fist, aiming at the place where they thought the sound had come from. And then there came a low moan from another direction entirely, a ghastly sound like a creature in the extremity of pain. They spun round and aimed afresh. But the sound ceased abruptly… only to come back from another place.

    "Beach and bugger me!" said Taylor. "There's more than one o' the sods."

    "Back to back, mates," said Howard, "so's they shan't take us by the stern."

    "Aye!" said the others.

    That was good sense and a comforting opportunity to huddle physically up against one another. They felt better like that and cheered up immensely, until the hideous groaning came again from a third and quite new direction.

    "All around us," said Fraser.

    "What are they?" said Evans.

    "I don't want to know!" said Howard. "Just keep the buggers off!"

    He was shivering in fright, and when another long-drawn howl came out of the night he jumped and let fly. His two pistols split the night with their flashing and roaring as Howard fired aimlessly. And his mates fired too, in senseless imitation.

    Then there was a fearful scrambling for cartridges, and a weeping and snivelling and a gibbering as the wretched creatures fumbled and elbowed each other and spilt powder and dropped bullets in a pitiful rush to reload… before the things beyond the firelight could fall upon them.

    "Ahoy!" came a voice. "Belay that firing! Who gave the word to fire?"

    "Cap'n Flint!" cried Howard.

    "It's the cap'n!" cried Fraser.

    "Thank God!" cried Taylor.

    "Sweet Jesus!" cried Cameron.

    "We're saved!" cried Evans.

    Flint's familiar figure loomed out of the darkness with a sand-glass in his hand.

    "Who gave the word to draw firelocks?" he said sternly. "D'you not realise you could've shot me as I walked towards you?" But they fawned upon him, these tough, hard, throat- cutting pirates; they clung to Flint's legs like children, they seized his hands, they grovelled like dogs, they all but jumped up into his arms.

    "They was here, Cap'n," they said.

    "Shoals o' the buggers."

    "Bearing down upon us, they was."

    "Coming to grapple an' board."

    "By thunder!" said Flint. "And me not fifty paces off, and I never heard a sound. That ain't natural, lads!"

    "Why was you gone so long, Cap'n?"

    "What?" said Flint. "I went straight to the boat and back again!"

    "Shite!" said Evans. "That ain't natural neither, Cap'n, 'cos you was gone for ages."

    "'Tain't natural," they echoed, and Flint plumped himself down beside them and scratched his head.

    "Well, shipmates," he said, "there's things afoot that no man can fathom, and that's a fact. But we're all true hearts aboard this ship, and jolly companions all, and we shan't be made afraid of that which hasn't the courage to face us man to man." And he leaned forward and put a hand on Howard's shoulder. "Isn't that so, Henry?"

    "Aye," said Howard in a tiny voice.

    "And you, Peter Evans," said Flint. "And you, Rob Taylor, and you, Iain Fraser. I say that if they never came to grips, then they're more afraid of you than you were of them!"

    He said it with such conviction, and so boldly, that the men cheered up wonderfully and their fears ran away. In all truth, Joe Flint had the makings of a very fine officer inside of him… along with all the other ingredients.

    "So here's my orders," said Flint, all brisk and businesslike. "Howard, you take the first watch, followed by Taylor, then Fraser, then Evans." He handed over the sand-glass. "And now you, Peter, pile wood on the fire to keep it blazing, while you, Iain, make sure all the pistols are properly primed and loaded, and you, Rob - like the sensible man you are - put your head down and go to sleep, which is what I shall do myself."

    With that, Flint laid himself down beside the fire, having first placed his hat as a nest for his parrot. Then, pulling his coat collar up around his ears, he closed his eyes, and gave every appearance of going to sleep.

    Greatly comforted, and grinning weakly at one another, his men did as they'd been told. After that, what with the heavy work they'd been doing all day, and what with the quantities of rum they'd been encouraged to drink, within ten minutes only Howard was awake, nodding over his sand-glass and shuddering with the need constantly to haul himself out of the seductive pit of slumber. The rest were curled up snoring like happy hogs. And so - it seemed - was Flint.

    Howard did his best, he really did. He nodded and started. He stood up and took a turn about the fire. He counted stars and made patterns in the sand between his legs. He gritted his teeth. He even said nursery rhymes in his head, to keep himself awake. But in the end, he slumped over in unwakeable sleep.