Skull and Bones (41 page)

    Bump! Boom! The longboat came alongside the schooner, and Burillo leapt for the main chains and hauled himself aboard, with his nimble seamen instantly following, and the marines with their encumbering muskets coming over the side seconds later. Burillo glanced around him. The schooner was in excellent order: neat and polished and lines coiled down. More than that, the men now standing looking at him had been busy with holystones, mops and buckets, scrubbing the decks… decks which were already white and gleaming.

    There were only a dozen men on deck, and it seemed to Antonio Burillo that he was master of the schooner… but you never knew with the English. He saw the careful looks on his men's faces as they looked round with firelocks raised.

Good!
he thought. But, bump… bump… bump! Here came the tall man.

    "Good day to you, Señor Teniente!" he said in ready Spanish.

    Burillo looked at him and saw that he was a cripple. His left leg was entirely gone, and he leaned on a long crutch that thumped the deck as he moved. He was a strange figure, for a huge green parrot sat on his shoulder, and he was indeed tall, towering over Burillo and smiling politely out of a pale, English face with yellow hair showing under the handkerchief that was bound round his head… his hat being already doffed and held respectfully in a big hand.

    "Good day," said Burillo. "Who is captain here?"

    The tall man bowed.

    "I am," he said. "John Silver, at your service! John Silver of the good ship
Walrus."

    Burillo frowned. He was puzzled. The Englishman spoke good Spanish, but with a strong Portuguese accent.

"Silva?"
said Burillo, mistaking the word. "
Da Silva
? Are you Portuguese?"

    "English, senor, but born of a Portuguese father. Da Silva was his name."

    "So," said Burillo, "what is your business here, Capitán Da Silva?"

    The tall man smiled. He shrugged his shoulders. He reached up to the parrot, which gently nipped his fingers with a beak that looked capable of snapping a marlin spike.

    "I am a dealer in skins, Señor Teniente. I am here to trade with the Indians."

    "Ah," said Burillo. "And have you any aboard?"

    "Indians, Señor Teniente?"

"No…
Skins."

    The tall man smiled regretfully. "I fear not, senor, for business has been bad."

    "How unfortunate."

    "Indeed, senor. And might I ask
your
business… here in British waters?"

    Now Burillo shrugged. He shrugged and smiled.

    "The ships of our squadron were damaged by foul weather. We seek shelter to make repairs and to rest our men."

    "Ah," said Silver, looking at the immaculate perfection of the Spanish ships.

    "There is also the matter of piracy, Capitán Da Silva," said Burillo.

    "Piracy?" The tall man recoiled in horror.

    "Indeed. Spanish ships have been lost off the Carolinas," said Burillo, "and my squadron serves the duty of all civilised mankind in seeking to extinguish piracy by capturing the pirates… and hanging them."

    Silver forced another smile.

    "Might I offer you a glass of wine in my cabin, Señor Teniente?" he said. "And perhaps I might present my officers?"

    "Perhaps," said Burillo. "First, might I look at your beautiful ship? And in any case, it is my pleasure to offer
you
the hospitality of my commander, Capitán Peña-Castillo, aboard our flagship." He gestured towards the huge bulk of
San Pedro
which so utterly dominated the sound.

    "Look at my ship? A pleasure, senor!" said Silver, and led the way, pointing out features of interest while Burillo stared at everything comprehensively, especially the decks and the gunports, and eventually made his way aft and found the lockers where the ship's flags were kept. There were rows of them, carpentered into the taffrail, neat as bookshelves, each deep, narrow recess closed by a square wooden flap that hinged upwards.

    "Looking for anything, senor?" said Silver, his smile fading.

    "Yes…" said Burillo, and glanced up to make sure that his men were close by.

    Clap! Clap! went the wooden covers as Burillo's busy fingers raised and dropped them. Then…

    "Ah!" said Burillo. "What's this?" and he hauled out a large black flag. Turning to Silver, he held it up. "Isn't this the skull and bones?" he said. "The flag of piracy?"

    "Mother of God!" said Silver, and piously crossed himself. "How did that get there?"

    Soon Capitán Da Silva was making his way up the ponderous sides of
San Pedro,
a feat he managed with surprising ease: his crutch swung from his shoulder by a lanyard, and the big green bird left aboard his own ship. Having clambered over the massive rail, he wedged his crutch under his arm, and looked up and down the decks of one of the most powerful ships in the Americas, for the broadside guns were indeed twenty-four-pounders, which were indeed run out and shotted, and matches burning beside them in tubs. Meanwhile the decks were thick with men - hundreds of them: far too many even for so big a ship as this, for as well as seamen and marines, there were Spanish infantrymen, in their French- looking white coats with coloured turnbacks, and all of them peering in patronising curiosity at the creature Teniente Burillo had brought aboard.

    "Follow me," said Burillo, and led the way under the break of the quarterdeck, into the depths of the ship, and towards the stern. Nudged by the muskets of the Spanish marines, Silver hopped after him, pausing only to cross himself as he passed the shrine of San Pedro. Burillo stopped at the ornate, carved door that led to the great cabin. Two more marines were on duty. They saluted.

    "Wait here," said Burillo, and knocked and went in.

    Silver waited for a good, long wait, until Burillo emerged, and beckoned. Ducking his head, Long John went inside with his hat in his hand. The cabin was magnificent: carved, painted and gilded in the style of a generation earlier. The furnishings were rich with scarlet upholstery, religious paintings hung in rows, and behind the stern windows there was a massive balustraded balcony, for the captain's private use.

    Thus Capitán Adolfo Peña-Castillo sat in the bosom of his power with a broad table before him and his stern gallery behind him, and he faced this Englishman, whose father was Portuguese. Peña-Castillo waved at Burillo, indicating that he should take a chair, and glanced to either side of himself where sat his first officer and his personal secretary and other officers. He turned again to the Englishman, whom he left standing… or rather leaning on his crutch.

    "Capitán Da Silva," he said, "Teniente Burillo has explained that it is my duty to hang pirates?" The Englishman said nothing. He merely nodded and licked his lips. Peña-Castillo nodded in turn, and smiled cynically, "But," he said, "Teniente Burillo tells me that your ship cannot be a pirate because she mounts just eight guns… four on each beam."

    "That she does, Señor Capitán," said the Englishman.

    "Yet she is pierced for fourteen."

    "Yes, Señor Capitán. That's how she was when I got her."

    "So where are the other ten guns?"

    "Sold, Señor Captain." The Englishman smiled. "I have no need for them."

    "Because you are a trader in skins?"

    "Yes, senor."

    "And yet you have no skins in your ship?"

    "No, senor."

    "But you have the black flag aboard. The skull and bones."

    "I swear on the blessed virgin that I know nothing of that flag!" said the Englishman promptly, and it was Peña-Castillo's turn to smile.

    "Accepting for the moment your pretence of being in the true faith…"

    "The which I am, by sweet Mary's blessed name!" cried Silver.

    "No doubt," said Peña-Castillo with a small, sour smile, "but there is still the matter of the missing guns, for Teniente Burillo - who is a most observant officer - tells me that he saw the marks of their wheels on your decks, which decks you were swabbing and scraping in the attempt to hide them." Silver said nothing. Peña-Castillo continued: "Which suggests to me that, on seeing my squadron, you cast some of your guns over the side to hide the fact that you are a pirate."

    "Never! Not on pain of my immortal soul! Not by -"

    "Please!" said Peña-Castillo, waving a hand. "I am not a fool."

    "Bah!" said the Englishman, and hopped forward and dragged a chair out from Peña-Castillo's table, and slumped down in it. He sighed heavily, drew out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow, and glared at the Spaniards. "Well then, Señor Capitán," he said, "since you've made up your mind to hang me, you won't mind if I take the weight off my legs, of which I've only got one… and put mine arse to an anchor!"

    Burillo sprang to his feet. The rest gasped. But Peña-Castillo merely smiled. He was amused. He'd taken this posturing

    Anglo-Portuguese pirate for no more than a clumsy villain, but looking at the man now as he stared straight back into Peña-Castillo's eyes… perhaps he was something more.

    "And why should I not hang you, Capitán Da Silva?"

"Silver
. Just Silver."

    "By whatever name, why should I not hang you?"

    "Because I'm a privateer, with a commission from the governor of Virginia."

    "Ah! The governor of Virginia," said Peña-Castillo. "Another commission?"

    "What?" said Silver.

    Peña-Castillo smiled again. "Do you think you are the
only
pirate with such papers? The only one that I have captured?"

    "Well, bugger me through me breeches!" said Silver, but he said it in English.

    "What?" said Peña-Castillo.

    "I said I'm a licensed privateer. All proper and legal."

    "No, Capitán Silver. An English colonial governor may not issue letters of marque. Only your king can do that, and even his commission is valid only in time of war, and there is no war - at present - between England and Spain. That is the law, as you well know."

    Peña-Castillo saw his words strike like a roundshot. He saw Silver bow his head in despair and grind his teeth. And Peña-Castillo noted how Silver thought deeply, searching for escape, and shaking his head as if struggling within himself, and looking this way and that as if to find guidance in the ship's dark timbers.

    Finally Silver made his decision… and looked up… and cleared his throat… and met Peña-Castillo's eye. All this the Spanish captain watched with fierce concentration. He was a penetrating observer who spotted the little signs others would have missed. He felt a prickle of excitement. He was watching a man fighting for his life, and in Peña-Castillo's opinion, Capitán Silver had just searched his imagination for a way out, and found it… but was not proud of it, because his conscience did not like it.

    "Señor Capitán," said Silver.

    "Señor Capitán," said Peña-Castillo graciously.

    "I blame myself for the black flag!" said Silver.

    "Do you?" said Peña-Castillo.

    "Yes. I should've thought of it and got rid of it!"

    "Ah!" said Peña-Castillo, as if sympathetically. "No man is perfect. We all make mistakes." He smiled a little smile, for he sensed there was more to come and wished to encourage Capitán Silver.

    "Huh!" said Silver, and shifted in his chair. "So here I am, on a lee shore, dismasted and rolling gunwale-under."

    "Indeed," said Peña-Castillo.

    "Yes," said Silver. "For you could hang me… but you'd be a fool if you did."

    "A fool?"

    "A damned fool!" Silver beat the table with his fist and glared at Peña-Castillo. "For what are you doing here, Capitán, in British waters, with a ship full of soldiers…" Silver stared hard at the Spaniard "… And siege guns besides?"

    Peña-Castillo spread his hands innocently, but he made no denial… and knew on the instant that he'd given something away. There were no siege guns on deck, but there was indeed an artillery train below. Silver was clever! More so than he'd thought.

    "You're here to land men and guns," said Silver. "To take and capture British settlements! You're here to be best placed, so soon as that war starts - which all the world knows is coming." Silver leaned forward across the table, looking in his turn for the little signs on Peña-Castillo's face. "Or maybe even
before
it starts?"

    Peña-Castillo never blinked, but the men on either side of him gaped in amazement, and their round mouths made Silver laugh at the accuracy of his guess.

    "Well then, Señor Capitán," said Silver, "how about starting with Savannah? It's a fine big fort they're building to defend the town, with guns a-plenty and a garrison to man them. If you try to take that by siege you'll lose men by the thousand with maybe nothing to show for it!"