Pirates! (13 page)

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Female Sailors Bold

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Chapter 20

‘What have we here?’ Broom exclaimed when we presented ourselves at the ship in the morning, our bundles slung over our shoulders. He walked around, inspecting us. Then he tipped back his hat. ‘Damn me, if I don’t see as likely a pair of lads as ever went on the account.’ He clapped me on the back and put a fatherly arm around Minerva. ‘Let’s see what Surgeon Graham thinks of you.’

I squinted, shading my eyes against the glaring white of the sand and the glitter from the water in the shallow curving bay. The whole beach shimmered with activity. The ship lay like a stranded leviathan. Men were swarming over her, scraping away at the weed and barnacles that collect below the water line and slow a ship down. Others went behind them, caulking and tarring, replacing rotting or worm-ridden planking, making the ship sound and seaworthy. I recognised some of them from the
Sally-Anne
. Gabriel Grant, the carpenter, had set up a workshop under an awning. He was busy planing and shaping, his feet lost in shavings, the air around him fragrant with the smell of freshly worked wood.

‘Old Gabe’s a clever fellow,’ Broom grinned. ‘A good shipwright’s worth his weight in guinea pieces. I don’t know what we’d do without him. I took care to take the best with me from the
Sally-Anne
.’ He walked on, going closer to inspect the work being done. ‘She’s a good ship right enough, but she needs to be changed for our purposes. New gun ports, and get rid of some of the upper deck to make her lighter, more manoeuvrable. Gabe’s even promising to heighten the masts so we can get that extra breath of wind.’ Being a pirate was all about taking the advantage and keeping it, being able to outrun and outgun any other vessel. Broom was clever, he learned fast. ‘We’ll be a match for anybody, excepting for the Navy, but we can get places they can’t, because of our shallower draft.’

I listened to him talking and watched the men working. We hadn’t set foot on the ship yet, but I felt as though I was already on the account. The fear and dread that I’d felt in the maroon camp were receding. To be wearing a sailor’s rig, to know that we would be leaving on that ship, it all felt most liberating. I had to force myself to reign in my growing excitement and remind myself that we were on probation. Our joining had to be put to ship’s council and the vote would not be taken until the end of the day.

Surgeon Graham was under another awning made from a sail. He had a number of men resting on pallets in a makeshift hospital.

‘Ah, Broom,’ he looked up as he saw the captain approaching. ‘Moved these poor devils off the ship. Fresh air is good for them.’ He swilled blood from his hands in a pewter bowl. ‘I wondered when you’d be back. How was the maroons’ camp?’

‘We had some fine entertainment, and I got the fresh food you requested. They are bringing it down now.’ He paused. ‘I managed to find a pair of new recruits.’

Broom pushed us forwards, but Graham barely glanced at us.

‘Good. I could do with some help.’ He looked at me, but with absolutely no recognition. ‘You’ll do. Roll your sleeves up and come with me.’

He turned on his heel. Broom shrugged and signalled for Minerva to follow him. I watched as they walked off together. She made a handsome lad. Loose-limbed and long-legged, she had always been graceful, but now there was an ease and freedom about her. Wearing boys’ clothes suited her.

‘Hey, you!’ Graham thrust his head out from the awning. ‘Don’t just stand there a wool gathering. Get in here! I haven’t got all day!’

The sun struck through the canvas, bathing the interior in a yellowy light. Up to a dozen men lay on low pallets set out in neat rows. One or two of them groaned and tossed, as if gripped with fever, but most lay still and listless in the growing heat of the day. The sides were open to the air, but there was little or no wind, so it was stifling and smelt of sickness.

‘Come over here.’

Graham led me to a table set a little apart from the pallets. The sailor lying there turned his head when he heard us coming. His hands balled in fists at his sides and his eyes opened wide, big dark pools brimming with fear. He was just a boy, younger than me. I recognised him. Joby Price from the
Sally-Anne
. He shut his eyes tight now, and lay quiet, biting his lips bloody to stop himself from crying.

‘There, lad,’ Graham patted his shoulder. ‘Soon be over.’

Graham moved about the table examining the boy’s legs. One was much thicker than the other, as fat as a young tree trunk. It was swathed in layers of soiled bandage which Graham was gently cutting away. As he did so the smell of the decay grew so thick I had to cover my mouth. From the knee down, the flesh was a mottled blackish grey and purple. A thick yellow discharge oozed from an elongated wound dimpling what had been his shin, and the whole of his foot was swollen and discoloured, the toes showing like a row of black fruit.

‘Give him this.’ Graham thrust a bottle of rum into my chest. ‘Get as much as you can down him, then stick this in his mouth.’ He gave me a gag of plaited leather, darkened and matted, pitted with teeth marks. ‘Then hold him.’ He took in my relatively slight build. ‘Lie across his chest if you have to, but hold him tight.’

I poured rum down the boy’s throat until he choked and gagged, then I poured some more.

‘Ready?’ Graham asked, a long bow-saw in his hand.

‘Ready.’ I thrust the leather between the boy’s teeth and threw myself across him as he grunted and bucked.

It was over in a second. I felt a sudden lightness and the boy’s body went limp, his head falling to one side.

‘He’s fainted,’ Graham muttered. ‘That’s a kindness. Quick now, bring me the hatchet. In the brazier. Over there!’

The haft of the axe was scorched black, but was cool enough to carry. Graham took it from me, and applied the glowing flat of the blade to the stump of the leg. The flesh hissed and smelt of barbicue.

‘Don’t faint, and don’t vomit,’ Graham snarled. ‘I need you. Bring me the pot from the fire.’

A little pot of tar bubbled on the coals. I was grateful for its cleaner smell. I used a cloth to carry it to Graham. He dipped a brush into the molten tar and daubed it over the wound.

‘There.’ He stepped back to inspect his handiwork. ‘That should do.’

The boy was still unconscious. Graham left him and went to wash his hands in the pewter bowl, the water clouding with blood. He tipped the contents into the sand.

‘Go and fill it up with sea water.’ He looked up at me. ‘You did well.’ He smiled. ‘Thank you.’ He shook water from his hands, drying them on his stained shirt front. ‘I didn’t expect to see you, Miss Nancy. Not under these circumstances. But I’m sure I’ll hear your story soon enough.’

‘The boy. Will he be all right?’

Graham shrugged. ‘Who knows. Another day, that leg would have killed him. Now, I dare say he’ll live for Gabe to fashion him a new one. He was up aloft repairing a sail torn at the luff edge when he fell from the rigging, hit the deck and shattered his shin bone beyond any repairing, but I dare say he’ll brag how he lost his leg in a fearsome fight. ‘’Tis a shame to lose a limb, and in one so young, but at least he won’t be turned off. He’s due £150, according to the Articles, and can stay in the company for as long as he wishes.’

‘Articles?’

‘We have our own rules. Laws that we live by. Everyone has to swear to them.’ He laughed. ‘You’ll find a pirate ship is quite a little Commonwealth.’ He went back under the awning, charging a large syringe with some viscous liquid. ‘Mercury. For the pox.’ He waved the curving spout. ‘I don’t suppose you want to help me administer that. Off you go and get fresh water. You acquitted yourself well. You’ll get my vote, for what it’s worth.’

Down by the shore, Minerva was undergoing her own tests to prove her worthiness to join the ship’s company. Several fork-tailed frigate birds floated headless in the shallows, their long wings spread. Vincent, the mate, presented her with a reloaded pistol. A coconut exploded from a palm at least a hundred paces away, the remains of it tumbling to the sand.

‘She’s a good shot,’ one of the men exclaimed. ‘By damn if she’s not!’

Vincent clapped his hands by way of compliment. When Minerva made to return his pistol, he smiled and thrust his hands in his pockets.

‘No, no,’ he shook his head. ‘It’s yours now. It pays to have a weapon handy on the account.’

We set about making ourselves useful, working on the ship. After the changes had been made they would rename her
Deliverance
, in the way that was common to all pirates, transforming the ordinary and everyday to something more exotic, which gave justice to their intention.
Mary, Mercy, Greyhound
became
Revenge
or
Rover
,
Success
or
Fortune
, as if there were a magic in names. After that the black colours would fly from the mast and proclaim to all that the newly-named ship was a pirate vessel, and strike fear into the hearts of all she approached. Or so they hoped.

We worked alongside, but the men kept their distance. Our fate was yet to be decided, and until then we were not to be treated as part of the company, but rather as oddities, as if a pair of monkeys had suddenly appeared from the forest and snatched up tools and fallen to scraping and sawing.

The ship would put to sea in the morning. The crew would spend one more night on shore. As the sun sank further, fires were lit, and food was prepared. There would be no rum drinking, by Broom’s order. At least, not until the council was over. The decisions about to be made demanded clear heads.

We were not invited to attend the debate. We sat some way apart, our backs against a fallen tree, and watched as the sun sank deeper, turning the sea a deep bloody orange. Darkness fell and the sun disappeared with one last flash on the horizon, like a red eye winking out. Someone threw more wood on the blaze, sparks flew up in firefly showers and flames roared, streaming in the wind like torn scarlet flags.

We could not hear what was being said, but it was clear from the length of discussion that not everyone was happy for us to join the ship. Broom was a flamboyant orator with a taste for the dramatic, pacing and gesturing like a courtroom advocate. The opposing voices were quieter, more sullen, but from the muttered ‘ayes’ and nods of agreement, their arguments seemed to be gaining. Then Graham stood up. It was obvious from the men’s faces that they respected him, and he was listened to in silence. He moved the motion to a vote. The quartermaster took a count on a show of hands. It was a close thing, but we were in the company.

Vincent came over to ask us to join them. A rough table had been put up, set out with a Bible and a hatchet. Captain Broom would read out the Articles of the company, and we would have to sign to them, as all there had. A pirate ship is a Commonwealth, as Graham had said, ruled by laws agreed by all.

These were the Articles of the newly-named
Deliverance
.

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1. Every man shall be given a vote in affairs of moment and every man shall obey civil command.

2. The captain shall have one and one half shares in any Prizes, the mate, quartermaster, surgeon, carpenter and gunner, one and one quarter, all the rest one share each. All have equal title to fresh provisions and strong liquors seized. These to be enjoyed at pleasure, except in times of scarcity when it may be necessary to vote a retrenchment.

3. If any man shall board a Prize and not declare a find of gold, silver, plate, jewels or money above the worth of a Piece of Eight and so seek to defraud the company, he shall suffer marooning, landed in some desert place with one bottle of powder, one bottle of water, pistol and shot.

4. No person to game at dice or cards for money.

5. None shall strike another on board but every man’s quarrel shall be ended on shore with sword and pistol.

6. Every man to keep his piece, pistol and cutlass clean and fit for engagement. Any man failing in this shall be cut off from his share and suffer such other punishment as captain and company see fit.

7. He that shall be found guilty of cowardice or desertion in time of engagement to be punished by marooning or death.

8. No man is to talk of breaking up our way of living until each has shared £1000. If any man lose a limb, or become crippled in our service, he shall have the sum of £150, and remain with the company as long as he shall think fit.

9. Any man snapping his arms in the hold, or smoking an unlidded pipe, or carrying a lighted candle without a lanthorn shall be punished as captain and company see fit.

10. No boy or woman to be taken to sea. If any man seduce a woman and carry her to sea disguised, he is to suffer death.

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This last had been a sticking point, and arguments threatened to break out afresh, with voices declaring that Broom was breaking his own Articles. The captain replied as smooth as any lawyer, his argument running thus: