Flint and Silver (4 page)

    The formalities of the service had to be observed before George Merry could be flogged, since only the captain could order it, and Merry was clapped in irons awaiting his captain's judgement - which was indeed a formality but took time. Thus Merry had to wait for his punishment, which took place during the forenoon watch of the day after he'd played Flint's game, when all hands were mustered to witness the defaulter lashed to a grating to receive his promised two dozen. Being already in severe pain from the battering he'd had from Flint, George Merry took his flogging with much groaning and weeping, which disturbed an already unhappy crew far more than a usual flogging when a brave man clenched the leather between his teeth and refused to cry out.

    Once Merry was taken down, and the decks hosed clean, eight bells were struck for the turn of the watch, when the navigating officers took their noon-day observations; for which ceremony Mr Flint demanded an absolutely silent ship. After that, the hands were sent below for their dinner, the best time of the day, with full platters and the happy communion of messes clustered at their hanging tables on the gun-deck, where pork, pease, pickles and biscuit were shovelled down throats with a generous lubrication of grog.

    It was a noisy, happy time, except for George Merry and his messmates. George himself sat painfully upright, bound in the vinegar and brown paper that the surgeon declared was the best thing for a flogged back. With his broken fingers, he could eat and drink only because his messmates fed him and held his mug to his lips.

    "Ah, George Merry!" said a voice from the next-door mess. "I sees you be in poor straights."

    "That I be, Mr Gunn," said Merry, nodding politely towards Ben Gunn and his messmates, who were quartermasters, rated able to steer the ship. They were the elite of the lower deck and aboard
Elizabeth
they were always addressed with the honorific "Mister".

    "So," Ben Gunn declared, "you thinks you be in pain?"

    "Aye, Mr Gunn," said Merry, and bit his lip.

    "And you thinks you be hard done by?"

    "That I does!"

    "Then listen," said Ben Gunn and beckoned his messmates and George Merry's to lean closer. Ben Gunn was a serious and sober man, if a little strange. He was much respected for his skill, but was distant - even odd - in his manner, as if his mind steered a different course than that of other men.

    "You've heard Flint tell of the Manila galleon," he said, "and how he was done out of his share for being supernumerary?"

    "Aye!" they said, and could not help but look over their shoulders in fear of Flint.

    "Then heark'ee, my lads, for he don't tell the whole tale."

    "No?" they said, barely breathing.

    "No, he don't, not the half of it, for I had it in full from a poor soul, long gone, what sailed in
Spider
under Flint." Now they were transfixed and, sensing the mood, men from other messes were leaning close. "Supernumerary, he was," said Ben Gunn, and tapped the table in emphasis, "for Anson diddled him, and he didn't even diddle him fair! He done it - which is to say, he
said
he done it - 'cos of what Flint had done aboard of
Spider."

    Now the whole gun-deck was listening. They were listening, but Ben Gunn was gone off in his own thoughts.

    "What was it, Mr Gunn?" someone prompted. Ben Gunn started.

    "Why, it were the
Incident
," he said, and lapsed into silence again.

    "What Incident?" said a voice. "What'd he do, Mr Gunn?"

    Ben Gunn sighed. "He meant it for a good thing," he said, "for he were a fine officer in them days, and he meant no harm. But it got twisted into a cruel thing…" He looked around, fixing men's eyes in emphasis. "It got twisted… and not entirely by his own fault, mark you! And it became such that, by comparison, we be living like lords aboard this ship today, and happy that we ain't in
Spider:"

    "Tell on, Ben Gunn!" said his messmates, looking at one another, for even they'd not heard this before.

    "It were known as the
Incident,
for that's how Anson named it when he used it as an excuse to do Flint out of his share." He looked round again. "Flint were betrayed, shipmates. Anson betrayed him, and Flint were
turned
by that betrayal, for he worshipped Anson."

    "So what happened, Ben Gunn?"

    Ben Gunn struggled within himself, searching in his limited store of words for the things he would have to say. These were not things that decent sailormen talked about. The task was dreadful hard for Ben Gunn, and the whole deck waited in silence for him to speak.

Chapter 3

21st May 1745

Aboard Victory

The Indian Ocean

    John Silver and Captain Nathan England walked the quarterdeck side by side, with every other man deferring and keeping clear of their private conversation. The weather was hot and good. The ship sailed easily, the guns were secured, and most of the men idling.

    "Articles, John! Articles is what makes us what we are."

    "Which is pirates," said Silver.

    "No!" said England. "If I'm a pirate, then Drake was a pirate, and Hawkins and Raleigh too, and all the rest of 'em that did what I do. And didn't they come home to knighthoods and estates?"

    "But the law - King George's law - will hang us if they catch us."

    "Which they won't."

    "But they
would."

    "God bless your soul, John! And wouldn't Queen Bess've hanged Drake, if she'd caught him at the wrong time? She'd've done it to please the King of Spain! She did what she had to, and so do I."

    "But…" said Silver.

    "JOHN!" yelled England, loud enough to shake the t'gallant masts, and all hands turned to look. England's face reddened with anger. "Avast, you swabs!" he cried. "Look to your duties!" And every man turned away and found something to be busy with. They did as they were told, without resentment and of their own free will.

    "There!" said England. "D'you see that? Was that
pirates,
or free companions?" He waved a hand at the crew. "That's real discipline, John. The discipline of free men. That's
articles."

    "Bah!" said Silver.

    "God damn you, you ignorant bugger!" said England, biting down on his temper. Then, "Ah!" he said, as an idea struck him. "Come along o' me, John Silver, and I'll show you something, by God I will!"

    England stamped off, slid down a companionway, and led the way below decks to the great cabin, right at the stern of the ship. Unlike some, England used his cabin not for display but as a place of work, where he could bring together his officers when he needed to make plans. There was a big table and some chairs, and a profusion of cupboards and drawers and pigeonholes for the storage of charts and other papers.

    "Secure that hatchway!" said England, pointing at the door. "Not that I don't trust the hands, but some things are best kept out of temptation's way." Then he fumbled for a key, unlocked a cupboard and pointed to the big, black ledger that lay inside.

    "Book of Articles!" he said with reverence. "The very same in which you signed your name. And here beside it is the flag beneath which we buries the dead." He laid a hand on the black cloth. "And then there's this!" He took out a snuff box. It was nothing special. It wasn't gilt or enamelled. Not the sort of thing that would have graced a gentleman's waistcoat. It was a large, plain box, neatly carpentered from some hard, black, African wood.

    "Now you just look at this, my boy, and you tell me if that was the work of bloody pirates!" He held out the box. Silver took it.

    "Well?" said Silver.

    "Well, open the bugger!" said England. Silver fumbled for the catch, and sprung the box open. He looked inside and saw nothing… just two round pieces of paper, each about an inch across, each faintly dirtied with charcoal that had long since rubbed off.

    "Aye!" said England, seeing Silver's expression. "Not much to look at now, are they? But each one of them got rid of a captain. By one of 'em Davies was removed by Latour, and by the other Latour was removed by myself." Silver took out one of the papers. He turned it over. The single word
Deposed
was written on the fresh side. The same word was on the other paper.

    "What are these?" said Silver.

    "The black spot, my son," said England. "This is the means whereby the lower deck gets rid of a captain it doesn't like."

    "The black spot?" Silver said, grinning. "Sounds like boys at play!"

    "Huh!" said England. "You just hope you never see one handed to you! For it's a summons from the crew to stand before them and be judged. No man may harm one who gives him the black spot, nor stand in his way as he seeks to deliver it. No man may even lay a hand on one who is found in the act of
making
a black spot. And as for him to whom they deliver it - why, he must stand judgement by vote of the whole crew, be he even the captain himself."

    England reached out and took the papers. He held them up one at a time before Silver's eyes.

    "This one was for Captain Danny Davies who had greedy fingers for other men's shares. Him they hanged from the yardarm. And this one was for Captain Frenchy Latour, that brought bad luck upon us one time too many! Him we stripped bollock-naked and heaved over the side to see if he could swim to Jamaica from ten miles offshore."

    "Aye," said Silver, "but what does it mean?"

    "It means, my son, that we sail under the rule of law on board of this ship. We sail under the rule of law every inch and ounce as much as if we were on board of a ship of King George of England, or King Louis of France, or King Philip of Spain! Their laws is all different, ain't they? And ours is too, but it is
law!
It is articles! And that's why we ain't pirates!"

    He spoke with such passion and such obvious sincerity that Silver nodded. He'd now heard these same arguments repeated so many times that he was losing the will to fight them; and in any case, nobody likes to think the worst of himself, so even the cleverest man will accept a weak case if it suits his self-esteem to do so.

    "Now then," said England, "no more o' this, for it ain't why I sent for you." He stared at Silver thoughtfully. "You're a good man, John Silver, and the crew like you. You know what they call you?"

    Silver grinned. "Aye!" he said.

    "Well?" said England. "Out with it!"

    "Long John," said Silver.

    "Aye! Long John Silver, 'cos you're the tallest man among us, and one o' the best. You're a seaman to the bone, and there's not a man here that would dare to fight you. You're a man that others will follow." Silver shrugged, England laughed. "It's true," said England. "So here's the case, Long John Silver. I have it in mind to make an officer of you on board of this ship. You have the natural gift of command, and more than that you know your letters and your numbers, which is as rare among seamen as balls on a eunuch! I shall rate you as third mate and start your education this very day." He clapped Silver on the shoulder. "What say you, Long John?"

    "Thank you, Cap'n," said Silver, beaming with pleasure and raising a hand to his hat in salute.

    "Good!" said England. "So what do you know already? Can you steer a course?"

    "Aye!" said Silver, confidently.

    "Then show me," said England. "We'll go this instant to the ship's wheel!" He smiled and led the way.

    "Cap'n!" said the first mate, who was standing by the helmsman.

    "Cap'n!" said the helmsman.

    "Let Mr Silver take a turn," said England. "The course is north by northwest, Mr Silver, and keep her as close to the wind as she'll bear."

    The helmsman waited till Silver had taken a firm hold on the other side of the big wheel with its out-jutting handles, and when Silver nodded, he stood back and left the ship to Silver's hand, with England and the first mate looking on.

    It was easy. Silver had done this a hundred times before on other ships. He was a fine steersman, keeping careful watch on the sails, and holding the ship true to her course with minimal pressure on the wheel. The task is harder than it seems and few men could have done it better. England grinned. The mate grinned, and word ran round the ship that Long John was at the helm.

    "Would you change the set of her sails, Mr Silver?" asked England, nudging the mate.

    "I'd shake a reef out of the fore topsail, Cap'n," said Silver. "She'll bear it, and she'll steer all the easier." And when this was done, and
Victory
did indeed answer the helm more sweetly, there was an actual cheer from the crew, now eagerly looking on.