Tales of Terror from the Black Ship (8 page)

‘Come now,’ I said. ‘We may be young but we are not fools.’

‘The sea is a world that no man truly knows, however much he might make that claim,’ Thackeray said after a pause. ‘It is constantly changing, constantly moving. It is a living thing, never ageing, but never the same.

‘There are things abroad on the ocean, swimming in its murky depths, afloat on its shimmering surface, that are not recorded in the pages of any books. They are spoken of in hushed voices, passed from ship to ship, from mariner to mariner.’

‘But surely –’ I began.

Thackeray raised his hand to interrupt. ‘You are a sceptic, Ethan. I respect that.’

‘I think I know the difference between a story and the real world,’ I said.

‘Do you now?’ he said. ‘Then you are a wise man.’

I did not much care for his tone and hoped my expression told him so, but as usual he merely smiled.

‘And you, Miss Cathy?’ he asked, turning to my sister. ‘What about you?’

‘Well . . .’ said Cathy, biting her lip and glancing at me. ‘Ethan is perhaps more certain of things than I am. I know I am probably foolish, but I rather hope that there are such wonders in the world. I think the world needs wonders.’ She blushed and giggled. ‘Even awful ones.’

‘That’s all very well, Cath,’ I said, ‘but –’

‘Shall I tell you of another such wonder?’ said Thackeray, ignoring me and looking at my sister with a most unpleasant grin. ‘Of another such
awful
wonder?’

‘Yes . . . please,’ said Cathy nervously, her blushes fading instantly.

‘Very well, then,’ he said.

Thackeray glanced at me, as if inviting an objection, but I shrugged and bade him continue.

g

The Boy in the Boat

The
Roebuck
was three days out of Fortaventura, sailing west. It had taken a beating in the Bay of Biscay and had done some running repairs in the Canaries before heading to the Bahamas with a hold full of supplies for the colonists in the West Indies.

Davy Longman was in his favourite place, perched up high in the crow’s nest, searching the wide horizon. The captain had told him to keep a special lookout for ships, because it was well known that pirates infested these waters.

Davy was often given this job, his young eyes being sharper than most. He would look back and forth across the ocean, and only when he caught sight of something he thought of interest did he raise the telescope.

And so it was this time, when Davy’s keen eyes spied a shape on the waves some two miles ahead. He did not call out, because even at that distance he could tell it was not a pirate ship.

With the telescope to his eyes he could see that the object was a small boat, floating alone in the wide ocean, and Davy quickly scanned the horizon for sign of ship or land or possibly wreckage that might explain where it had come from, but there was only a great expanse of water and naught else.

The ocean was in a mellow mood, but even so the boat rose and fell dramatically, disappearing from view every few seconds behind the waves. It was not for a little while that Davy realised there was anyone aboard, and when he did, he could scarcely believe what the telescope revealed. He clambered down the rigging as fast as he was able.

‘It’s a boy, Captain,’ said Davy when he reached the quarterdeck all breathless. ‘There’s a small boy in a boat up ahead.’

Sure enough, as the
Roebuck
approached and manoeuvred itself alongside the little boat, there was the lad, looking up at Davy and the rest of the crew, barely eight years old.

On the captain’s orders, men climbed down the hull and brought the boy aboard, then fixed a line to his boat and hauled that aboard likewise. The boy said nothing when questioned and the captain hoped that they might garner some clue from the boat as to where he had come from.

But the boat was such an odd-looking craft – too small to be a lifeboat or launch. It looked more suited to a boating lake than the ocean, and on its prow on either side, instead of a name, there was a curious painting of an eye.

As for the boy himself, never had Davy seen a more serious-looking lad; though perhaps that was hardly surprising given his situation and having been lost at sea alone at such a tender age. He had a mop of blond hair like ripe wheat and a face so grave it would melt the heart of even the coldest customs man. Davy wondered that the boy had not burst into tears in fear or relief, or in memory of whatever terrible predicament had resulted in him being cast adrift upon the ocean.

The captain, who was a kind and gentle fellow, attempted again to ask the boy what had happened, but he made no reply, looking in turn from one crew member to the other with his big glistening eyes.

The first mate wondered aloud if the boy was perhaps not English and did not understand the captain’s question, and so the captain began again in French, but with a similar lack of response.

As everyone knows, a ship’s crew is like an island of all nations and the
Roebuck
was no exception. They had a Spaniard, who spoke his own language and a little Portuguese, an Irishman and a Pole. When their efforts failed the captain even let the cabin boy try in what little he could remember of his own mother-tongue from before he was sold on the slaving coast of Africa. But still there was no response.

Davy, along with everyone aboard, felt sure that this poor lad must be the sole survivor of some devastating wreck or storm-forced sinking and that the circumstances of this event must have been so traumatic that the boy remained in shock. Whatever the cause, the effect of this fragile little survivor on the crew was remarkable.

There were men aboard the
Roebuck
who would think nothing of stabbing a fellow crewman in the liver with a marlinspike if they were crossed, but Davy marvelled at how these same seasoned mariners now doted on this little boy as though he were their own child, so eager were they to make him smile; but to no avail.

Eventually the captain bade the men go back to their work and let the boy have some space to settle himself, and said that the poor lad might speak when he recovered from his shock. The boy looked from face to face with the same mournful expression as the crew reluctantly backed away and then he wandered over towards the ship’s carpenter.

Ludlow was a great bear of a man, his face half hidden by a wild black beard, who seemed to prefer the company of his tools to other men and saved all his affections for wood.

But just as with the rest of the crew, the carpenter’s weathered and seasoned heart was mellowed by the sight of the young passenger and he gladly suffered him to come and watch him work – something that would have earned Davy or any of the other men a grunted curse.

Ludlow was repairing a section of the gunwales. Davy noticed that the boy seemed to study the actions of the carpenter with intense concentration. His eyes seemed to glow with a curious fascination at every movement of the man’s hands, until something extraordinary happened: the boy smiled.

The carpenter was using a chisel to make a mortis joint when he glanced up and saw the boy’s face, and he was entranced by this change of expression; it was like the sun coming out on an overcast day. His lapse in concentration had painful consequences, however; the blade skittered across the surface of the wood and struck his hand, gouging into the flesh at the base of his thumb.

Not surprisingly, Ludlow swore profusely, throwing down the chisel and clutching his torn and bleeding hand. He hissed and winced with pain and cursed his own stupidity.

There was nothing remarkable in this. All carpenters are wont to injure themselves from time to time and Ludlow’s reaction was that of any man in similar circumstances. No, the remarkable thing – the thing that caused Davy and every man among the crew to cease their own work and stare in the carpenter’s direction – was not
his
behaviour at all. The remarkable thing was the reaction of the
boy
.

For the lad stood before the carpenter, his head thrown back in laughter as if he were watching a Punch and Judy show. He had not once opened his mouth since coming aboard, and now his boyish laughter rang round the ship like a bell.

It was so clear, so joyful, it sounded as though a host of angels had come among them. Davy felt it seep into his whole body until his very soul vibrated to its song. After a few seconds every man aboard was laughing too, from the hold to the topsails.

The carpenter frowned both at the boy and then the crew for laughing at his misfortune, but soon even he could not resist the seductive quality of that sound. Even as the blood dripped from Ludlow’s hand, he shook his head and laughed along with everyone else.

Davy was astonished to see the rough-tempered carpenter taking the accident and the boy’s amusement in such good sport, and it seemed to all the crew that this boy was some joyous spirit, gifted to them by God, and every man felt his heart grow lighter for his being there.

It fell to Davy to look after the lad, since he was – until the boy’s unexpected arrival – the youngest of the sailors. The captain bade him see to his welfare and make sure that he came to no harm.

It was not a job that Davy bore well, as it was not in his nature to nursemaid a small child, however much that child delighted the crew. But Davy did as he was told, as all men must aboard a ship at sea.

Wherever the lad went, Davy saw that he was always greeted by a grin or a chuckle and a ruffle of the hair, and this attention was itself rewarded by a smile: his remarkable, heart-warming smile. The very sun appeared to shine brighter when he smiled and everyone within view had no choice but to stop work and bask in its radiant glow.

Had the boy not been so well loved, the captain would surely have been less forgiving of the disruption he caused wherever he went. Men who were normally steadfast in their work now kept losing their concentration and falling prey to all manner of silly accidents, tripping and blundering around like clowns at a May fair.

But whatever happened and however bruised the heads of those who fell, curses would quickly turn to merriment as the boy opened his mouth and laughed his wind-chime laugh, as if all this was being done for his particular pleasure.

Only the ship’s carpenter seemed less than bewitched by the boy’s presence, though he laughed as all the rest did. But Davy could see that however much Ludlow held his belly and slapped his thigh, he did not laugh with his eyes. And the boy saw it too.

This lack of enthusiasm did not in any way deter the lad from seeking out the carpenter’s company; far from it. The boy seemed drawn to the man despite the latter’s unease. And for his part, Ludlow seemed to become distracted, and in his distraction he became clumsy.

One day, as Davy and his charge walked by, the carpenter was sawing a length of wood. Davy saw beads of perspiration appear on Ludlow’s forehead as they approached, as if he were straining to keep his mind fixed on the job in hand, and then the relief when the boy chose to walk by without watching him.

But as Davy followed the boy there was a cry of pain from the carpenter. He turned to find Ludlow clutching his left hand and Davy could see that he must have struck it with the saw. He was moaning and gibbering and fell to his knees, fumbling in the sawdust for something.

Davy was about to take a step towards him when Ludlow picked the thing up. It was his thumb; he had sawn straight through his hand and severed the thumb entirely. As Davy took this in and moved to help the poor wretch, with others of the nearby crew, the boy’s laughter suddenly rang out once more.

Every one of them turned in shock towards him. Surely he could not be laughing at a man hacking his own thumb off; young as he was, he should know better than that. Though Davy was charged with the boy’s safety, he now strode towards him, fists clenched, not knowing what he intended, save that he wanted to stop that laugh.

And yet Davy had taken not more than two steps when a crewman to his right erupted in laughter. Then another began behind him, and another. Soon Davy could see that every man was trying to stop himself from laughing, with various degrees of success. And Davy was no better: the muscles in his face were pulling back into a grin, and a chuckle was fluttering in his throat like a trapped bird. He seemed to have no choice but to laugh himself.