Flint and Silver (47 page)

Lion
had been Silver's first command, and he'd have loved her anyway, even if she hadn't been so beautiful. So he'd spoken from the heart when he called for three cheers, not knowing that he was following the lead of many captains before him, and many after, in honouring his ship as he lost her. Likewise, there was hard practical sense in lifting men's spirits at such a time. Any decent captain hopes to keep his men together as a crew, and not as a broken mob.

    "Now, lads," said Silver, "steady as can be… them as
can
swim, shall go over the side, and them as
can't
shall man the boats, and shall do it like British tars: old 'uns last, and young 'uns first. And now…" he paused and forced himself to speak the dreadful words:
"Abandon ship!"

    Even then he wasn't done. He went among them with a cheerful word for all as they set to work heaving over the side anything that would float: gratings, hatch covers, spare masts, and all the rolled-up hammocks that could be found. Then, just twenty of the seventy-one aboard went over the rail and swam, or clung to whatever they could grasp, and struck out for the shore with the current behind them.

    With over fifty-one men and three boys still aboard, it took two trips of the jolly-boat and three of the skiff to get everyone ashore, with Silver the last man over the side, and the fire now raging forrard of the mainmast.

    As the skiff pulled away from
Lion,
Silver sat in the stern sheets and glanced at
Walrus.
She'd proved to be no threat at all. The wind had failed her. She had no steerage way and her sails hung like washing on a line. She was harmless, just a cable's length off, and gently wallowing in the water. He put his glass to his eye and looked her over, from stem to stern… and nearly leapt out of the boat at the sight of Selena struggling in Flint's arms.

Chapter 52

9th September 1752

In the forenoon watch (c. 11.30 a.m. shore time)

The southern anchorage

    Flint studied
Lion
through his glass. She was well ablaze but bustling with activity. They'd got a pump rigged and buckets dipping over the side on lines, and they seemed to be discharging cargo into their boats. He didn't like that. Not at all.

Walrus
was idle as a floating log. She couldn't move. The charges of canister he'd hoped to spray into Silver's men were sleeping in the iron cradle of their guns. What a pity. What a damned, bloody, infernal shame!

    It got worse.
Lion's
crew went over the side and into the boats. Steadily and efficiently Silver got his whole crew ashore, right under Flint's nose and just out of cannon shot.

    "So what are you going to do,
Captain
?" said Selena, standing beside him on the quarterdeck. "Looks to me like Long John's got the better of you."

    "What?" he snapped. "How in the Devil's name do you calculate that?"

    "He's given your ship a beating. He's killed half your men, and he's got the island and the treasure." She sneered, "And I thought you were the clever one." She was baiting him out of hatred, and the desire to hit back after being the victim for so long. More important,
Walrus
was much nearer the shore than she'd been when at anchor, and Selena was feeling ready for a swim again. She was feeling bold because she could hop over the rail in an instant and it was Long John ashore now, not Flint. The only problem was the ship's guns and their hundreds of musket balls.

    Flint's eyes went round and white. The parrot or Billy Bones would have seen the danger signs. But they weren't there. She'd hit the mark. She'd hit it right in the centre.

    When the sun rose that morning, there'd been a full crew aboard
Walrus.
There'd been seventy-three men. Now there were just thirty-one able-bodied men aboard, the rest were either enjoying Mr Cowdray's attentions or were dead. Flint had killed at least four of them himself, which he now rather regretted because he was left with nowhere near enough men to fight Silver's seventy-one for possession of the island.

    "Bitch!" he said, and raised a hand to strike. But she jumped back, and turned and leapt up on one of the guns, and would have been over the side… if Flint hadn't caught her. She struggled fiercely and he - of necessity - held her close and dragged her away from the ship's side.

    The struggle had a strange effect on him. An unexpected effect, since it was the first time he'd had close physical contact with a woman since certain highly unsatisfactory experiments with Portsmouth whores in his early youth.

    "Well," he said, clutching her to him, his lips half an inch from hers, "I think we'll keep you nice and tight, my girl. I think we'll get the carpenter to mend my door and pop you back inside." He smiled, and risked a tiny kiss. Earlier thoughts of strangulation and throat-slitting, which had then seemed so appealing, were now replaced by other desires entirely.

        The skiff grounded. The crew leapt out and hauled her up on to the beach. Long John got out, struggling as ever with the soft sand, and his crutch digging itself into holes.

    "Look, Cap'n," said Israel Hands, "I think she may be burning herself out." Silver looked back at
Lion.
He stared at her for a while, judging the progress of the flames. Everything aft of the mainmast was gone, but it looked as if the fire was not advancing any further forrard, and might even be dying out.

    "Aye," he said. "There's a bit of the bow that might survive. But we shan't sail the seas in
that.
" He looked at Israel Hands and the others. "What did we save? How much did we get ashore?"

    "Plenty of pork and biscuit, Cap'n," said Israel Hands. "And rum too, and most of the ship's small arms and shot." He grinned. "And a great deal of powder!" There was a roar of laughter at that. "And much more besides: all the charts and suchlike, and a couple o' compasses."

    Israel Hands turned and glanced towards the woods and hills. "And we got this old island too!" he said. "I been here before, Cap'n, along of Flint, and - why - there's water and there's fruits and other things to eat, and there's goats too. There's even a blockhouse somewhere."

    "Ahoy!" cried a voice. "Look what we got!" It was the boatswain, Sarney Sawyer, leading a group of men coming towards them from the jolly-boat. Sawyer was carrying something and the others were prodding a man forward with their cutlasses. It was Billy Bones, festooned with cork floats and clearly in mortal terror.

    "We found the swab in the water, Cap'n," said Sawyer. "He says he went over the side when the ship burnt. But the bugger's got out of his irons somehow. And where did he get the cork, an' all?"

    There was an ugly roar from Silver's men and calls for a rope and a good tree with a strong branch.

    "Silence!" said Silver, and struggled towards Billy Bones, who wouldn't meet his eye. "What's this, Billy?" said Silver, grabbing hold of the cork and netting. But Billy Bones said nothing. "This weren't made in an instant, were it, Billy-boy?" said Silver. "It looks like a thing of purpose. Something prepared in advance of need." He frowned and put his head on one side. "And how did you get out of them irons, Billy?
And how did the bloody ship take fire?"

    It took every ounce of Silver's strength, leadership and powers of persuasion to save Billy Bones's life. Without that, Billy would have been lucky if he'd got it quick rather than slow. And the only reason Silver bothered was the old, old reason.

    "He's the only blasted quadrant-monger of our whole blasted crew!" said Silver. "We're on this island for ever if we ain't got
him.''''

    So Billy Bones lived. And so did another member of Flint's crew.

    "It's the parrot, Cap'n. It must've flown ashore. Been shot about something wicked." Sarney Sawyer held out the bedraggled bird, bleeding from a number of small wounds, and missing feathers from its wings. He put a hand round the bird's neck. "Shall I pull it, Cap'n? 'T'ain't no bloody use, and it was Flint's own bird, damn him!"

    "No!" said Silver. "I've just pardoned a far worse bugger than this poor bird, which is only a creature, and which ain't to be held to account for what Flint did." He took off his hat and put the bird in it, just as Flint had done when it needed a nest. "There, my pretty," he said. "We'll find you some fruit and seeds to eat, and a little drink of water."

    Silver smiled. He'd always admired the parrot and he'd always been the only man other than Flint who could touch it without losing fingers.

    "No, Cap'n Flint," he said to the parrot, "we shan't pull your neck - not you, my pretty bird!"

    Later that evening, just as a wind got up in the anchorage, Flint himself came ashore - or rather, not quite ashore. He came in
Walrus's
cutter, with a swivel mounted in the bow, and oars double-banked for speed and the crew ready to pull clear on the first sign of any danger. He came waving a flag. He came for a parlay and stopped just out of musket shot: far enough to be safe, and close enough for a shouted conversation.

    "What is it, Joe?" cried Silver, with his men around him, armed and ready. "What have you got to say to me?"

    "Not much, John," said Flint, and smiled. "And is that Billy Bones there, standing among you. Why, Mr Bones, have you changed sides?" Billy Bones broke free of the men holding his arms and ran forward. He ran till he was up to his waist in water, and dared go no further.

    "Let him go," said Silver. "He ain't going to swim and Flint ain't going to fetch him!"

    And Flint didn't, despite Billy's desperate plea that he was Flint's man for ever and only following Flint's orders.

    "So what is it, Joe Flint?" said Silver.

    "It's a promise," said Flint. "One to keep you warm at nights."

    "Which is?"

    "Which is this… Looks like you've got the island, and I've got the ship."

    "Aye!"

    "Oh! And I've got your black girl, too, who stays with me of her own free will, having entirely lost patience with a one- legged cripple that cannot meet a woman's needs." Flint laughed. "Do you understand me, John?"

    "Bastard!" said Silver.

    "No," said Israel Hands quietly and laid a hand on Silver's arm. "It's hoss-feathers, Cap'n. All hands knows the moll were yourn when you was on board of
Walrus.
And that day when we pulled across to speak to Parson, she'd have jumped in and swum to you on the instant but for them bloody swivels!" He looked at Flint, standing laughing in the bows of the cutter. "And as for that bugger… who's ever seen
him
poke a woman?"

    "Hmm," said Silver, and thought of what Selena had said about Flint. He raised his voice, good and loud, for all to hear.

    "Won't do, Joe!" he cried, shaking his head calmly. "That girl knows a man when she sees one - and you ain't no man. Do
you
understand
me,
Joe?"

    For an instant Silver thought of telling everything. It would win a roaring laugh: the tale of Flint's fiddling while peeping through holes in bulkheads! It would stab Flint to the heart. It might even lose him his crew and his ship. But if Flint were pushed too far, he'd want his vengeance and might take it out on Selena. Silver couldn't risk that. Not for all the treasure in the island.

    Silver was right. He'd judged the matter nicely. Flint blinked. He sat down, and shut up. The riposte had been devastating. He knew exactly what Silver was talking about, and the bounce went out of him and the fright shot up his spine: fright and hideous embarrassment. In his vanity, he'd never dreamed anyone knew. Not Selena, not anyone, and certainly not Silver. He'd always been so careful.

    "Pull for the ship!" he said. "Pull with all your might!"

    "Leaving so soon, Joe?" cried Silver, and his men laughed and jeered.

    But Flint recovered fast. Just before the boat pulled too far out for his voice to carry, he stood up, and called back in a final farewell message.

    "I'll be back, John, with a full crew to skin the hides off every man of you, sparing none, and that over a red-hot, roasting fire!"

Chapter 53

12th September 1752

The forenoon watch

Aboard Walrus

The South Atlantic

    Selena knew now that Flint was mad. But mad in his own special way.

    Just as he'd promised, the door to his cabin was mended and herself locked in. But once the ship was properly under way, and the island out of sight, he'd let her out and welcomed her back on deck, and given her every kindly consideration, just like the first time she'd been brought aboard, and he called her "My dear" and "Madam" and "My Nubian princess".