Privateer's Apprentice (12 page)

I stir my soup, turning over a root of some sort, its leaves still attached. Other than that, there is nothing in the broth except for a few morsels of fish. I bite into one biscuit, pocketing the other to eat when the others sleep and I cannot. Lately my nights have been plagued with thoughts of home. In my mind's eye, I see the two-story house and remember how it leans toward the street. I chew my biscuit slowly until it dissolves
and there is no danger that it will lodge against the lump that fills my throat.

A few of the men drift from the fire to spread their pallets on the sand. I wonder who will stand guard for the night. It is unlikely Peep will fail to post a lookout, as if no harm can come to us here.

I glance up and down the beach, searching for the Captain, who did not appear for supper. My eyes fall upon the thicket of trees that line the edge of the beach. Their leaves glisten silvery-green beneath the moon's hazy light. Surely the Captain would not remain in the forest at this late hour.

Suddenly, the swamp owl I had heard earlier screams again, its piercing cry rising and falling until I place my hands over my ears to block out the sound. It occurs to me that only the owl knows if the Captain has gone beyond the trees, for no human eyes could see through such darkness. Is that what the owl is saying? Is it calling out to other creatures that the Captain has trespassed amongst them?

The crew begins to settle in for the night, arranging their sleeping mats around the fire. My eyelids are heavy, so I find a clear space and unroll my pallet. I close my eyes and will myself to sleep. When morning comes, there will be much to do and consider. Now, in the darkness, there are no answers to be had.

I
wake near dawn to a swarm of mosquitoes buzzing loudly near my head. My face feels as if it is on fire, the skin hot and swollen. “This place is not fit for animals,” I mutter.

Swatting at mosquitoes clinging to my shirt, I pull my pallet over beside Jabbart's and Ratty Tom's. Their even snores tell me they have not suffered the same fate. I scratch a welt on my neck, vowing to sleep closer to the fire from now on.

The salt from the water has left my clothing stiff. I tug on my trouser legs as I walk to the stump where I tied the boat the night before. I give two quick yanks on the rope and then drop it, satisfied the vessel is still secure. The others are just waking, and so I walk down the beach, enjoying the feel of the white sand beneath my feet and the sun on my face. In the morning light, the island doesn't seem as hostile as it did the night before.

I eye the trees that line the edge of the beach like soldiers blocking entry into the thick woods that lie behind them. Two tall oaks, their trunks charred black by lightning, stand side by side. The narrow gap between them looks like a doorway into the woods. Around the base of both trees grows a thick green vine covered with red berries. I squat for a closer look, remembering the berries that grew wild each summer behind the
print shop, and the way my mother picked them to make jam and pies. With food supplies low, perhaps Cook can put these berries to good use.

Holding up the bottom of my shirt to use as a basket, I pull the brightest ones from the vine. When only hard green ones are left, I step between the charred oaks in search of more.

The forest is cool and dark inside, shielded by thick branches that form a wide canopy across the sky and block out the light. Pine needles, dry palms, and clumps of gray moss blanket the ground. I breathe deeply, inhaling air tinged with pine.

The quietness of the woods causes me to forget about Solitaire Peep's warning and the cries from the animals I heard the night before. I concentrate on picking the berries, imagining how pleased Cook will be when I return with them. The vine seems endless as I follow it farther into the woods.

When my shirt can hold no more, I turn to leave. I am almost at the charred oaks when I hear a loud rustling of leaves that causes me to spin around. A large black boar, his snout to the ground, appears suddenly from beneath a bush. The boar seems as startled to see me as I am to see him. He stares at me with closely set eyes that look to be crossed.

I draw a sharp breath. The boar's tusks are as sharp as any dagger I have ever seen, capable of cutting me to the bone. With my eyes on the animal, I edge slowly backwards. Alarmed at my movement, the boar's ears flicker. He raises his head and snorts loudly.

“Easy,” I whisper.

The boar's lips curl back over rows of pointed yellow teeth. When he begins pawing at the ground with his hoof, I know he has no intention of letting me escape. I drop the berries and grab for the dagger hanging at my side. Instantly the boar springs at me, teeth bared and snarling. His tusk catches me below the knee, knocking me backwards. I stumble, but I manage to stay on my feet. I yank my knife free and crouch, ready in case the
boar turns and charges again. When he does, I step quickly to the side and stab wildly at him with my dagger, plunging it deep into the flesh near the back of his neck. The sight of blood spurting upward shocks me, and I stumble back. The boar falls, rises to his feet, staggers toward me, and then collapses. I wait with my knife raised, but he doesn't move again.

I sink back against a tree, my heart pounding. Blood spills down my leg. Ripping a piece of fabric from my torn pants, I wrap it tightly around the wound. My leg hurts, but the pain is worth it. The boar is large and will feed us for many nights.

I limp slowly back toward camp, dragging the carcass awkwardly behind me. Cook's eyes widen when he sees what I have brought. “Has the man in the moon stolen your wits, boy?” he asks. “One who hunts the wild pig with only a knife is surely asking to die.”

“It was more like he hunted me,” I reply. “He attacked me whilst I was in the woods.”

“Lucky for you the moon was full last night,” Cook says. “Animals with tusks are weakened after a full moon.” He turns the boar over, grunting in approval at the heaviness. “You did good, lad. We'll feast on wild pig this night and smoke the rest for later.”

The crew gathers around the boar. I step back to examine the wound on my leg.

Ferdie watches me, smirking. “What did you do to yourself now, lad?”

Cook speaks up before I can answer. “Whilst you were sleeping the day away, the lad battled a great beast. You can thank him tonight when your belly is filled with wild pig.”

“'Tis time he earned his keep,” Gunther grumbles. “The Captain keeps him like a worthless pet.”

“Your mouth spews words like a waterspout when the Captain and Peep are not nearby to hear,” Cook says. “'Tis empty like a summer's well when they are.”

The crew laughs uneasily. Gunther steps forward. “Do you challenge me on the boy's behalf?”

Cook stabs at the fire with a thick branch. “Remember who stews your food. A bit of this or that, and the pains in your stomach will drive you to madness.”

Gunther spits into the flames and walks away without replying.

Jabbart waits until Gunther is out of earshot. “You are foolish to taunt him when the Captain is gone,” he says. “There is no telling what he will do with no one to stop him.”

Dabbing blood from my leg, I ask. “Where are the Captain and Peep?”

Jabbart shrugs. “Peep disappeared during the night. 'Tis strange that they are both gone at the same time.”

Cook nods toward the boar. “We need to build a pit to smoke the meat before the sun rots it. Can you bring wood for a boucan by midday?”

Jabbart nods and turns to me. “Tend your injury and come help me, lad,” he says. “When the Captain returns, he will order the ship careened. We must have the timber ready.”

I wash my wound in the sea, wincing as I splash the salty water against my leg. I let the sun shine on it to dry the blood while I eat my biscuits. Then, I bandage it with a strip of cloth that Cook gives me. When Jabbart is ready, I follow him to the woods. At the charred oaks, I hesitate, reluctant to pass between them. No doubt the woods are full of wild pigs that will come at me again; I could not hope to fight another with an injured leg.

Jabbart squeezes my shoulder. “Overcome your fear,” he says. “We'll be here too long for you to avoid the woods forever.” He strides between the charred oaks without waiting for me to respond. Taking a deep breath, I fall in step behind him.

For the rest of the morning, we gather branches. Those too
thin or brittle are put aside for kindling. The thicker ones please Jabbart. Holding a fat oak branch in his hand, he explains how Cook will bind the branches with strong willows to build the boucan.

By midday we have what we need. Cook is waiting impatiently when we come out of the woods. He spreads the branches on the beach, crossing one over the other and binding them together at the corners with cut willows. When he finishes, he steps back and admires the three-sided structure he has built.

Flies have settled around the boar's eyes and snout, and Cook swats them away. He pulls a dagger from his pocket and hacks around the tusks. Then, with a quick twist of his wrists, he wrenches the ivory tusks free and tosses them to me. “With these in your pocket, the beast's strength will be with you always.”

I wipe the bloodied tusks in the sand and stick them in my pocket. I don't believe they will bring me strength, but I have seen such tusks sold in the market in Charles Towne and know they hold value.

After skinning the boar, Cook gathers stones from the water's edge and arranges them inside the boucan. He stuffs dried grass between the stones and strikes a flint. The grass flames up. To my surprise, Cook and Jabbart quickly stomp out most of the fire, leaving just a few twigs burning between the stones. “If you roast the meat,” Cook says, “you'll have to gobble it quick before it spoils. It's the smoke you want to cure the meat.”

“Aye,” Jabbart says. “Meat smoked proper will last for months. What we don't eat tonight will keep until it's gone.”

Smoke slowly fills the boucan. Cook busies himself arranging the boar on the stones inside the boucan. I leave him to help Jabbart find wood to repair the ship and build a new mast.

Jabbart shows me how to look for proper trees. They cannot
be too thick around the base or they will be unmanageable. If the bark is brittle, the tree might be damaged and the wood might rot and split open at sea. There can be no mold, for that might spread to the other wood on the ship. Our search for just the right timber takes us deep into the woods. Along the way, Jabbart carves arrows on the trees to leave a trail for us to follow back. I watch, impressed. Such planning would never have occurred to me. Sometimes it seems as if there is too much to learn for me to ever become a sailor. Being a printer's son wasn't nearly as complicated.

Toward dusk, Jabbart finds an oak he thinks might do for the new mast. “Pine works best for the flooring and pins,” he explains, “but oak stands strong against the wind.”

Our search has taken us most of the day. With the canopy of branches above us, it is impossible to tell how much time has passed. As the sun sets and darkness falls, I begin to feel uneasy. I can barely see the ground in front of me. If a snake were lying across my path, I wouldn't know it until the creature had wrapped itself around my ankle.

“It grows late,” I say to Jabbart. “We should mark the tree and come back for it tomorrow.”

Jabbart agrees. “'Twill take a day or more to chop and carry out.” He carves a wide
X
onto the tree's base so that it can easily be spotted the next day.

When we pass between the charred oaks, I see the glow from Cook's fire. Something strikes me as different, but in the darkness, I can't place what it is. Then, the fire roars to life and in the light of the flames I see that Peep and the Captain have returned.

T
he Captain greets us as we approach the fire. The night has grown cold and a damp wind blows in from the sea. With each gust the flames flicker, threatening to go out. “Beware of staying in the forest past dusk,” he cautions as we join the circle. “It is unsafe once the stars appear.” The remarks are made casually, as if he had not disappeared for a night and day.

Jabbart holds his hands above the flames to warm them. “Aye,” he says. “'Twas by accident we stayed too long. We found nothing until we walked deep into the woods.”

“Is what you found seaworthy?”

“A strong oak is marked for the mast,” Jabbart replies, “but we'll need pine for the planking in the storage room.”

“Start out early tomorrow,” the Captain says. “The needles carpeting the forest floor tell me you will find the pine you need.” Turning to me, he says, “You are to be congratulated on your victory this morning. Our stomachs will be full for many nights.”

I smile at the compliment and accept a trencher from Cook. Thick slices of smoked meat float in gravy drippings scraped from the stones. Using my biscuit as a spoon, I scoop some up and place it in my mouth. The rich flavor spreads across my tongue, and I quickly take another bite.

Ferdie burps loudly and pats his stomach. “The beast whetted me appetite for fresh meat. With the boucan built, ‘twould be a good time to fetch the animals off the ship.”

Cook shakes his head. “Mayhap the chickens, but we need the goat for milk, and 'Tis too soon to eat the pigs. Let them roam awhile and grow fat.”

Solitaire Peep has remained silent until now. He glances quickly at the Captain before speaking to me. “The animals are in your care,” he says sharply. “You should've fetched them from the ship already.”

I stop eating, surprised at the rebuke. “I had no authority to do so,” I say. “No one told me to fetch them.”

“You should have thought of it yourself,” Peep says, tapping his forehead. “I cain't be around always to tell you what to do.”

The unfairness of Solitaire Peep's remarks cut me. It was not as if I had slept the day away. Had I not fought a wild pig and then helped to build a boucan to smoke it? Had I not walked in search of timber until my feet ached?

My tone hard, I say, “If you had told me to fetch the animals, I would have done so. Now that I know what you desire, I'll go for them at first light.”

“You'll fetch them this night,” Solitaire Peep snaps. “The moon will guide you.”

Gunther laughs scornfully. “If you send the boy out alone on the longboat, 'Tis likely he'll sink it. Mayhap I should row him over.”

Gunther's suggestion alarms me. “No,” I say quickly. “At dawn I can row over alone. The animals will keep until then.”

“The animals must be fed daily or they will grow weak and sick,” the Captain tells me. “Finish your meal and ready the longboat. I must tend to something onboard ship. We'll go tonight.”

I push the last bite of meat into my mouth, grateful for something to fill it so that I can't answer back. I don't want to row out to the ship tonight. I'm sleepy and my leg hurts. If I did not have to tend the animals, I could ask Cook to make a poultice to soothe the wound. There will be no time to do that now. I return the trencher and start down the beach to where the boat is tied.

I glance back toward the camp as I pull the longboat toward the sea. The others have finished their meal and now rest on their pallets. Cook has tapped a small barrel of ale to fill their cups, and the crew's laughter carries across the wind.

I hold the boat steady so the Captain can board. The water is choppy, and the wind tosses the small vessel into the waves. Water sloshes over the boat's sides. I am glad the Captain has taken the lead position at the boat's bow, for I am not sure I could have handled the force of the wind. We row silently, not speaking until we are aboard the ship.

On deck, the Captain strikes a flint and lights two small tapers so that we can see. He hands one to me and I start for the storage room, but he stops me. “Come to my cabin first.”

Inside, he pushes aside the papers on his desk and places the candle in a dish. It casts a dim glow inside the room. Motioning for me to sit, the Captain pulls out his log. He writes for several minutes before slamming the book shut. Stopping the ink bottle, he wipes his quill dry on a small cloth and sighs heavily. “Stop sulking, Jameson,” he says. “It is behavior unbecoming a royal sailor.”

“It is unfair how Solitaire Peep spoke to me,” I say. “I have taken good care of the animals since you placed them in my care. Surely one day without food would not have harmed them.” But as I speak the words I feel pangs of guilt, recalling how famished I had been on the streets of Charles Towne.
Stomach pangs led me to step into the bakery and pick up the loaf of bread. Hunger changed the path of my life, to be sure. “I shall not forget them again,” I say.

The Captain nods. “Good, although your forgetfulness served my purpose well.”

“I don't understand,” I reply. “How is that?”

“I must speak to you of another matter, a private matter that could not be discussed on the island.”

“Are you saying that you and Solitaire Peep played a ruse to get me here? That feeding the animals was an excuse?”

The Captain pushes back from his desk and walks over to the porthole. “You have surprised me over the last few months, Jameson,” he says. “You've worked without complaint, and you've managed to stay one step ahead of Gunther, who would kill you given the chance.”

I can't hide the surprise in my voice. “You knew that Gunther tormented me?”

“I knew,” the Captain says. “But a man must find his own way. I told Peep that unless your life was in danger, we would not interfere.”

“Is my life in danger now?” I ask. “Is that why you brought me here?”

“No,” he replies, shaking his head. “I brought you here because I trust you to protect what belongs to Queen Anne.” Unfastening a leather satchel, he pulls out a roll of papers bound by thin strips of leather. “These are the maps of a new world, Jameson,” he says. “When I return to England and show them to Her Majesty, she will send royal protectors to claim the land in her name and armies to defend it.”

My eyes widen as the maps are spread wide upon the desk. I have never seen such drawings. Each map shows detailed markings that could easily guide a ship's captain.

“You gaze upon my life's work,” the Captain says. “These
maps will ensure that England rules this new world. England and England alone.”

I touch the maps gently. Though my eyes are not as trained as my father's had been, I can see that each map is a work of art, one that could never be replaced.

“Whose work is this?” I ask, my voice filled with awe.

“Mine and other artists who have sailed with me,” he replies. “But that's not important right now.”

“What is it that you want me to do?” I ask, raising my eyes to meet his.

The Captain rolls up the maps and reties them. He doesn't speak for so long that I think that he has changed his mind. “You are a curious lad,” he says suddenly. “Surely you've wondered where Solitaire Peep and I disappeared to.”

I shrug. “Solitaire Peep claims my nose is too long. I did not want to ask.”

The Captain laughs. “It was Peep's own long nose that led us to the place on the island where he will soon take you. A place hidden deep in the woods.”

“Sir?”

The Captain stands. “Be ready, Jameson. That is all I will say at this time. When the hour is right, Solitaire Peep will take you there. You must follow without comments that will alert the others.”

My head swirls and questions are ready to spill from my mouth, but the Captain waves me silent. “I'll say no more than this. The maps before you will be used to secure England's place in the New World. Until I can return, they must be hidden in a place that will keep them safe from harm.

“And you think harm will come to them soon?” I ask quietly.

“We are within our enemy's reach and soon the weather will turn against us. Had the Spanish merchant not attacked,
we would not be in this predicament. Now
Destiny
is in peril.” He pauses. “Am I right to trust you with England's future, Jameson? You, above all the others who sail on my ship?”

I stare at the maps spread out before me, still awed by the perfect lettering and drawing. Even without knowing their value to Queen Anne, I would have protected them from harm.

I nod firmly. “I can be trusted,” I reply.

“I pray you speak the truth, Jameson. Because if I've misjudged you, God help us both. Betray me and our heads will adorn a pike on London Bridge.”

I swallow hard. My mouth feels dry as I speak. “I will follow Peep without question,” I say, “and I shall tell no one where I go or what I see. I give you my word.”