The Noble Pirates (11 page)

“What’s happening on deck?” I asked weakly, hearing the angry cries of the pirates.

The doctor shook his head. “I don’t know, but we should, perhaps, stay here…” He was terrified.

I stood unsteadily, my head reeling. “You can stay, then,” I replied. “I’m going up.”

The doctor made no move as I struggled to get up and out of the cabin, my left arm hanging limply at my side. The wine was beginning to work. As I entered the waist of the ship, I leaned heavily against the bulwark, going unnoticed by the men gathered there. The smoke had dissipated some, and I could see that the pirates had surrounded a well-dressed man, apparently the captain. He was a stocky fellow with a mean, pock-marked face, and he looked utterly mortified, sweating like a pig. Behind him, his crew stood weaponless, watching the proceedings silently. I noticed that, apart from the occasional flashy sash or waistcoat, there was little to distinguish the crew of the merchantmen from that of the pirate ship. If anything, the pirates looked to be in better shape.
Hmm. Make that much better shape.

Jameson pushed past the crew to stand before the captain, his large jaw thrust forward, his face livid with rage. I had never seen the man so angry before. England stood behind him, his eyes darting from his quartermaster to the merchant captain. Suddenly Jameson threw his head back and laughed aloud. “Ah, Captain Skinner! Is it you?” he said, approaching the cowering captain. Jameson poked himself in the chest with his forefinger. “It’s me! Thomas Jameson. Yer old boatswain. Remember? I am much in yer debt, and now I shall pay ye all in yer own coin.” Jameson then approached England and spoke softly to him. England nodded, then stepped before the miserable crew of the
Cadogan
.

“Tell us true, ye men!” he said loudly. “Is this Captain Skinner worthy of living? Or does he treat ye like the dregs of society? Ye be the deciders of this man’s fate. If he’s a fair captain, he lives. If not, he dies.”

I saw the faces of some of the crew light up, and others lift their heads with interest. They murmured among themselves, and one man stepped forward. A burly sailor with a nose that had been broken a number of times, he had a murderous glint in his eyes. He said, “He’s as big a son of a bitch as ever lived, and he deserves to die!”

This was met with fervent cheers, from both crews. Only a few
Cadogan
men hung back, their mouths shut. Captain Skinner began pleading as they ripped his shirt and jacket from him and tied him to the windlass. The brutal captain was gone, replaced by a groveling, desperate sailor. My palms grew moist and I felt ill, but I could not drag my eyes away from the scene. Jameson pulled out his cat o’nine tails – a whip with nine knotted tips – as the men began throwing bottles at Skinner, his cries lost in the wind. Jameson then ordered the pelting to stop, and he began to lash the captain mercilessly.

The cheers and curses continued, became more heated. Jameson threw his entire body into the flogging, laying the whip across the bleeding man’s back, again and again and again… I finally looked away, afraid I would faint.

“Stop! I beseech you, pirate, stop!”

I looked up. A
Cadogan
sailor had made his way to the front and was speaking to England, his hands balled into fists. He wore a Monmouth cap over his black hair, a clubbed tail hanging from the back. He was dressed in tatters – a frayed linen shirt and patched breeches, a waistcoat that had seen far better days. His feet were bare. He would have been quite a sorry sight, if not for his straight, fearless posture and fiery eyes.

England signaled to Jameson to stop, and he did. Skinner’s head hung limply, his back in bloody shreds. England looked at the sailor with interest. “And who are ye, dog, to tell me my business?” he asked gruffly.

The sailor looked England straight in the eyes, never faltering. “I be Howel Davis, first mate of the
Cadogan
. And you said you’d kill him, not torture him. Skinner is ruthless scum, to be sure, but there be no need for this inhuman treatment, for the pleasure o’ sick men!”

Howel Davis. This was the guy England would gift the
Cadogan
to. From where I stood, I could just see his profile, the square set of his shoulders, the tense muscles in his back. England’s gaze was piercing. “Do ye call me a sick man?” he asked, his voice dangerous.

Davis grinned. “Aye, I do. You and your kind.” And with that, he spat on the deck at England’s feet. Holy God, this guy had a death wish. England continued to stare as the pirates grew restless, grumbling and brandishing their weapons in Davis’ direction. England then looked at Jameson and, with a brisk nod, ended Skinner’s life. Jameson pulled a pistol from his sash and shot the
Cadogan
captain in the head.

I clapped my hand to my mouth to keep from screaming, squeezing my eyes shut at the gory sight. As I tried to compose myself, Skinner’s body was thrown overboard, the blood mopped up quickly. All the while, Davis and England stood assessing each other unflinchingly.

“What ho, Cap’n?” Jameson asked, looking daggers at Davis. “Shall we lay ‘im open?”

England smiled. “Nay. This kind of mettle is rare. I’d have ‘im join us.” He grinned at Davis. “What say ye, Howel Davis? Will ye sign the Articles?”

Davis bared his teeth. “I’d sooner be shot to death.” He gestured at the cutlass on England’s hip. “And since you’d make sport of me anyhow, you may as well give me a weapon and fight me, pirate.”

England laughed aloud. “Ye are mad, sailor, to challenge a pirate to a fight! Jameson, give the man a cutlass, will ye? We’ll see if he’s a fighting man, or just full o’bluster.”

Jameson flipped a cutlass in the air, and Davis caught it adeptly by the hilt. England said, “A student of the sword, are ye, sailor?”

Davis clasped both hands around the grip, the curved blade glinting in the daylight. He replied, “Ha! Me? Not likely. But I’m awful good with a cudgel.” He grinned insolently.

England moved suddenly, and the duel began in earnest, cold steel clashing together. England clearly was the more educated swordsman – he moved the way I’d seen Olympic fencers move, and he skillfully controlled Davis’ blade while cutting and thrusting. Davis, on the other hand, moved like a Highlander, wielding the cutlass like a Scottish broadsword. While I knew that neither man would die – not unless the book was wrong – I still found myself pressing my knuckles against my teeth in anticipation.

Before I realized what was happening, Davis had been backed into a corner. He dropped his cutlass with a clatter and opened his arms, panting. “Run me through, then, pirate, and I’ll see you in hell!” he hissed.

England pressed the tip of his cutlass against Davis’ chest threateningly, then smiled and lowered his arm. “Ye’re a brave man, Howel Davis, if a crazy one. I give the
Cadogan
to you, then, to divide the plunder among yer men.”

Davis blinked at England in astonishment. “How now? I told you I weren’t no pirate.”

England considered, rubbing his chin. “A clean man, are ye? Then take yer ship to its proper port in Barbados and continue to submit to the laws that rich men have made for their own security. Ye’ll always be but the scum of the earth to them, but ‘tis you who serves them, who allows them this advantage.” England then turned to the pirates. “Let’s be off, ye men!”

As the pirates reluctantly made their way back onto the
Royal James
, England spotted me crouching against the bulwark and came over, signaling for Davis to follow him. Davis, still stunned by England’s generosity, followed mutely. I straightened as they came to stand before me, and England said to Davis, “I have one request of ye, sailor. Take this injured lad back to Barbados with ye, and be sure he’s safe before ye set sail again.”

“What!” I cried, my arm throbbing furiously. “No! I’m staying with you!”

Davis looked at me, then at England. “I’ll take him back, if he’ll come.”

England said, “His name is Will, and he’s my nephew, see? His safety is of utmost importance to me.”

Davis met England’s eyes. “I’ve no words, pirate. I thankee for giving me the
Cadogan
, and will do my utmost to keep Will safe.”

“No,” I said again. Then I looked at England desperately. “Can I speak with you privately?”

Davis took the cue and left to perform his new duties as captain, leaving me with England. “Why are you doing this?” I asked, choked.

England brought his face close to mine. “Look at ye, Sabrina. Ye shot yerself! And this being yer first capture! I told ye once ye’d not last a moment in this life, and ye’re proving me right.”

I blushed. “Yes, but…” I had nothing to say. “You’d discard of me so quickly? Because I’m a liability to you? I thought you… cared for me.”

England looked bewildered, and was silent for a second. In a voice that was thick with emotion, he said, “
Cailin
, I want ye off my ship because I care for ye!” He stopped suddenly, clenching his jaw. “Davis is an honest man, a brave man. I don’t doubt he’ll be true to his word. Go back with him, Sabrina, and mayhaps find a way back to yer daughter.”

“Your crew has to vote,” I insisted. “They won’t like that they’re losing their doctor.”

England smiled slightly. “We voted before, agreeing that if ye became burdensome, it was in my authority to send ye back on a prize.”

I slumped in resignation. I’d become burdensome apparently. My arm hurt. I was tired. And buzzed. And traumatized. “My knapsack… and medicine chest…”

England’s face softened. “I’ll bring them to ye.”

I looked at him. “The Jesuit bark. Take it. For the ague…”

He nodded, squinting into the horizon. He acted as if he wanted to say more, pursing his lips and shifting his weight from leg to leg, and when he eventually looked me in the face, I understood: He wanted me. How daft was I, not to have seen it? We stood staring at each other, our eyes doing the talking. My eyes told him what he needed to know – that I cared for him like I would a brother. Disappointment flashed across his face, and he looked away quickly. His expression suddenly neutral, he said, “Take care of yerself, now. Stay away from pirates.” With that, he strode to the forecastle and leaped easily onto his ship.

I stared after him, my vision blurring. That was it? I still had to say so many things, ask so many things… Edward England, my sole protector and friend, had left me. I wanted to cry, to curl into a ball and just die. What would I do now? Who were these men, these common sailors, who were now in control of the ship?

“Will,” Davis said. He was looking at me kindly, holding a bottle out to me. “It’ll numb you, if nothing else,” he said, grinning. “Take a rest in the captain’s quarters.”

I took the bottle and shuffled back to the cabin, then I flopped on the bunk and slept fitfully.

Chapter Fourteen

  I awoke in pain, groaning. Alone in the cabin, I stumbled off the bunk to where my medicine chest and knapsack had been laid. I needed me some white willow bark. And some more alcohol. The harder the better, as far as I was concerned. I could easily see why pirates guzzled rum non-stop.

  I used the piss-pot and freshened up by splashing some water on my face and brushing my teeth. Until my arm healed, I would have to get used to doing things one-handed. God, what a dumb move that had been, jumping onto the
Cadogan
. If I had just stayed put, I would still be with England.

In my restless sleep, I’d dreamed of him. Of his unemotional slaying of the
Cadogan
captain, of those same cold pirate eyes warming to look at me in adoration. It disturbed me and, at the same time, thrilled me. I did not want England the way he seemed to want me, but losing his companionship, his strong and steady presence, was devastating.

The
Cadogan
had set sail. Where she was going, I hardly knew, hardly cared. What did it matter? I would never get home, I would never see my family again, and the only person who had meant anything to me in this God forsaken place had abandoned me. Edward England, who would die a drunkard and a beggar in Madagascar… I had never gotten the chance to tell him, to warn him. I wondered now: Would warning him make any difference? Could I change history? And if I could, would it be for the worse? Something about the butterfly effect… Oh Jesus, quantum physics again. I was in no mood for this. It hardly mattered now – who knew if I would ever see England again?

Moreover, now I had another challenge to deal with: I had to pretend to be a boy. Aside from Davis, these sailors were a shady lot, and I wasn’t sure being in their company was any better than hanging out with pirates. I mean, how old was I, for God’s sake? What was my story? Could I keep up the charade long enough to get back across the damn ocean? Didn’t the doctor know I was a chick? How would I keep him from telling everyone? Why on God’s green earth had England left me in this mess? I groaned, hanging my head. I didn’t want to worry about any of this.

“Feeling better, lad?” Howel Davis had come into the cabin, and now he crouched down beside me, trying to look into my face. “Whatever ails you, Will?” he grinned, “Other than your arm, I mean.”