by Peter Greene
Tonight, though, the stowaway needed some fresh eggs and maybe a bit of cheese. Goodies such as those could be found only in the galley near the Captain’s cabin. That was dangerous, as the Captain always seemed to be awake, and if not, he was being awakened by a lieutenant or midshipman, who brought him news about the ship and its position. The stowaway had listened to some of the conversations by hiding in the shadows.
Why not just wake him if something is wrong? The stowaway thought. Why wake him to say ‘all is well, go back to sleep? It seems ridiculous.
Making one’s way to the galley was difficult, as one could not just stomp across the deck. There was always someone at the wheel, someone walking about, maybe even a marine or two on deck, looking and watching. It was much easier, the stowaway found, to just sneak out of the boat, slip down a ladder and sneak along the passageways to the rear of the ship. It was only a second or two of nervous terror to slip past the Captain’s door and into the galley.
Inside, it was dark. The cook was never there, and the stowaway deduced that he, the cook, must sleep elsewhere. As silent as a mouse, the stowaway gathered a few eggs from a cupboard and some fresh cheese that had been wrapped in a damp towel and kept in a box with a tight lid. Also, there was a small bit of fruit. Reaching for a plum, a noise came from outside, just to the other side of the door.
“Captain,” came a voice, “I just checked on Mr. Moore. Sound asleep, I tell ya!”
It was the Captain’s cook.
He is back, thought the stowaway. Would he check on the galley? It is best if I leave now, while the cook’s back is turned.
A peek out the door confirmed that the cook, halfway into the Captain’s cabin, was facing the other way.
“Good,” said the Captain sleepily. “Carry on, Steward.”
“After I check my stores!” he said. “Seems that some things get out of place during the night!”
He turned and opened the small door to the galley.
The stowaway had just slipped past and down the ladder.
Ah, just made it! the stowaway thought. I need to make my way back carefully and enjoy my bounty!”
Within a few minutes, after finishing the plum, the intruder was back in the jolly boat where the tarp was pulled down tightly, locking out the wind and the salt spray. But there was suddenly a sound coming from the deck outside: footsteps.
Just a few yards from the jolly boat, the footsteps stopped. It was Steward. He had taken to searching the ship at night, looking for clues to the mystery of the missing stores. It disturbed him greatly that, firstly, someone was stealing food, and secondly, that he did not know who was responsible. It was suspected by the crew but still an unsubstantiated fact that Steward was one of Captain Walker’s secret sets of eyes and ears and that he took great pride in informing the Captain of the goings-on aboard the ship.
After searching the stern and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, Steward took a few more paces towards amidships. Then, c-r-a-c-k! He heard a crunching sound as he stepped on something very hard. Looking down, he moved his foot and saw a roundish shape on the deck in the darkness. Upon further investigation, he could see that it was a plum pit.
The following morning in the damp brig, Kozak watched as his breakfast was brought on a tray by none other than Midshipman Wayne Spears. After a little small talk, Spears brought up the subject of the duel. Kozak smiled inside, knowing that his trick was working and that Spears needed his advice.
“I did give it some serious thought, Wayne, and I believe I have a plan for you. A public duel is never going to happen. As you say, Jonathan is being watched like a baby by doting parents. No, there is no way to arrange a public duel. However, there is another way to achieve the same purpose.”
“And what is that?” asked Spears, now almost aching for the answer. He had indeed thought about taking revenge upon Jonathan all night long. He slept very little and then only fretfully. Every idea that came to him about how to get ahead of Jonathan Moore seemed to be a dead end.
I cannot pass him in the eyes of Captain Walker, thought Spears. His father is now an adjunct and in the King’s favor! With his capturing of the Drake, he will probably be knighted! All is a dead end!
“It will take courage, Wayne, and absolute determination on your part,” Kozak said, almost like an army major addressing and testing the resolve of his troops before a great battle. “You must be as ruthless as the Moores have been in their quest to keep you and your family down.”
“I will do anything for my honor and name,” said Spears, equally serious and determined.
“I know you will, Wayne Spears,” Kozak said. “I have seen few men with your determination and guile. Those characteristics will serve you well. So . . . here it is . . . you . . . must murder Jonathan Moore.”
“Murder him?” said Spears, now taken aback.
“You tried before, didn’t you, when you pushed him off the plank, to be squashed between the ship and the quay?”
“I wasn’t really trying to—”
“Yes you were,” snapped Kozak. “And a great plan it was, my boy! No one saw, it was perfectly done! If it wasn’t for his handlers, those that assist him in his climb to the top—the climb made on the backs of the hard-working Spears family, he would already be gone!”
“I didn’t know that he could have died!” blurted Spears.
“Yes you did!” continued Kozak, almost pleading with the boy to agree. “However, as in all great execution, we—we men of action—we focus! We focus on the task at hand, not the result!”
“But murder?” whispered Spears, now almost mad with fear and excitement as well.
“Why not? He has effectively murdered you! And his father did the same to your father! The Moores have plotted against you ever since, well, before you were born! You said yourself that his father had used favoritism to keep your family down. Now his brat of a son is joining the farce! But you can stop them! This is your chance!”
Spears slumped down to the hard deck, just outside of the barred door. He looked to the ground, stunned and dizzy. He thought that there must be another way. But as in his dreams of the last several nights, there was no answer. Spears kept running over all the possibilities in his head as the two sat in silence. Kozak never took his eyes off the boy. He reached out and touched Wayne’s sleeve, patted it gently, then sighed. Spears finally looked up into the kind, understanding face of the pirate Kozak.
“How?” was all Spears said.
13
Rendezvous Incognito
Upon the deck of the Danielle, the ship’s bell rang twice, signaling the hour of one o’clock in the morning. Jonathan ascended a ladder from the dimly lit lower decks, then paused, once topside, to wait for his vision to adjust to the deeper darkness. The night watch was usually quiet and calm, and as expected, he could see and hear no one present, though he was sure there had to be at least a dozen men at work, silently attending to sails and rigging, or watching for other ships from high in the tops. A slight sound of wind rushed easily through his ears, and the splashing of waves against the side of the ship drowned out any voices, even if there were words being said. After a few more moments, his eyes became accustomed to the night and he could now see that the sky above shone brightly, not just with white stars, but with stars of all colors, glittering on both sides of the ship, fore and aft, and due to the reflection of their light off the water, even below. The sea and sky had merged together, the horizon impossible to discern. The stars gave off light enough to cause a few shadows to be cast on the deck. To Jonathan it was dreamlike, almost magical and truly amazing, even though disorienting at times. Mr. Watt, however, seemed untroubled by this condition. The ship sailed straight on through the speckled, multicolor-star field as if moving within the heavens themselves, no longer earth-bound.
A pair of eyes peeked from under the tarp of the jolly boat, watching as Jonathan walked the deck in a circular fashion. After his third time past, the somebody that belonged to the e
yes quietly slipped out of the boat, dropping like a cat to the deck, scurried away to the nearest ladder and down to the deck below.
Jonathan continued onward, only hearing a few sounds of creaking wood behind him. This was no cause for alarm, as the great ship groaned and grumbled constantly, reminding all aboard of her tireless task, and that indeed, she was hand-made.
About an hour later, Jonathan walked to the beam and looked up to the mainmast. No one was aloft. All seemed quiet. A quick glance around with his glass showed that they were alone in this sparking world where both the sea and heaven held stars. The rushing sound of the water racing along the side of the Danielle seemed steady and strong.
As he turned his gaze back to the deck, Jonathan looked astern. In the darkness, he thought he saw a shadow move.
A crewman? he wondered. But why skulking in the dark? Steward told me of a food thief, responsible for an ever-growing list of missing items. Could this be the thief?
Jonathan stared in the general area he had seen the shadow and after a moment . . . there! He saw a stooped shape sprint across the ship and disappear behind the jolly boat. He moved quickly to investigate.
“You there! By the boat! Show yourself!” he called. There was no answer. As Jonathan approached, he decided to move to the port side, going around the boat. The person was surely hiding behind and he needed to move quickly to see him.
He ran about and jumped behind the boat—but no one was there. Even after circling twice, he saw no one.
He knew someone was there. The fact that they were skulking lead him to believe they were certainly out of place.
Though he continued his search, he saw no more shadows nearby and decided to move to the bow. Then he paused. Something moved by the portside deck guns.
Could the shadow have moved that far so fast? he wondered.
Again, Jonathan moved to investigate.
As he came upon the deck guns, a shadow arose to face him and took the shape of a man. Jonathan stepped back, afraid and stunned. He let out a gasp as the shape moved quickly towards him. The person had smeared something black across his face, maybe ash or paint, it seemed, as all Jonathan could see were two shining white eyes. The figure grabbed at Jonathan, clutching his hand around his lapel.
He tried to wriggle away, but he was collared tightly and in a second he was pinned between his attacker and the foremast. He couldn’t run.
“It ends tonight!” seethed the man, through gritted teeth.
Out of the man’s coat came something gleaming in the starlight. A knife. It was quickly brought down in a murderous arc. Jonathan parried with the telescope and moved to the side. But the powerful push of his attacker caused them both to tumble backward, falling in a heap. Rolling, Jonathan added distance between himself and his adversary.
The man rolled to his left and stood up hurriedly. He raised the knife again and flew at Jonathan. Moving aside just enough to miss the stroke, Jonathan extended his foot to trip the attacker and then spun, striking the knife from his hand with his telescope. It fell to the deck.
As the man stumbled, Jonathan reached for the blade and brought it up quickly. The attacker turned and charged again, then gasped, noticing his own knife was now turned against him. In trying to ward off the blow, he caught the blade in his lower arm. In pain, he spun quickly, sending the blade into the air and over the side. As Jonathan watched the knife disappear, the attacker ran head-down into his chest, knocking the wind out of him and dropping him to the deck. Shocked, Jonathan lay motionless for a second, then quickly regained his senses and struggled to his feet. He looked about frantically. The fleeing attacker was nowhere in sight.
The next morning, the Captain’s cabin was a hive of activity as land had been sighted. To plan and discuss, all the officers were in attendance for breakfast at the Captain’s table, awaiting orders, but more importantly, awaiting a decent meal. Now that the ship had reached the outer Cape Verde Islands, they would surely take on new supplies, mostly water and possibly even some fresh meat. Though there were still a few eggs left, they had just eaten the single remaining chicken for dinner last night, so there would certainly be no more of those. And almost always in abundance while at sea, fish was at best, tiring. Approaching a friendly port meant more food variety and quality and also meant they could finish up any perishable food left from the voyage.
Additionally, the Captain had now officially informed them all that someone was stealing food, and that meant fruit was in short supply and all the sugar was gone.
“At least whoever is pilfering has no taste for wine or rum,” said Steward.
“Unfortunately,” said Harrison, “The thief also has no taste for the food you have cooked, as I see it here in inglorious abundance!”
This caused all to laugh, except Steward, of course. He just shook his head and muttered something about disrespect for elders and the ungratefulness of youth.
“Any idea as to the identity of the food thief, gentlemen?” asked Koonts.
Holtz and Walker shook their heads to say ‘no’, as did Harrison. As their eyes trained on Jonathan to hear his response, he realized that he must say something about last night. He did not want to alert anyone to his knife fight, as certainly that would make Captain Walker become overprotective. He would be moved from the orlop, possibly into the Captain’s cabin, and probably not allowed to leave until they returned to London. True, it was now not a game; it was serious. Someone had tried to kill him. He of course suspected Spears.
I will wait a bit longer before I ask for help, he decided. Probably a mistake, but I desire to figure this out by myself. And I do have a trick or two up my sleeve.
“Sir,” Jonathan began. “I believe I ran into the food thief. I had him cornered and he lunged at me. Luckily, no harm but a bit of bumping as he ran off. I could not see in which direction he escaped.”
This seemed to cause great alarm with all in the room.
“Did you see the scoundrel’s face?” asked Walker.
“No sir, he had blackened it with ash and the like.”
The officers asked for details and for the story to be retold from the beginning at least three times. During the tale, they continued eating the last few eggs and cheesed toast, and drinking coffee.
Just as Jonathan was about to mention the knife, a knock came upon the door.
“Enter,” called the Captain, and in walked Lane followed by Spears.
“Midshipmen Lane, Spears! Thank you for joining us,” said the Captain sarcastically. “Is there anything I can get for you?”
“I am fine, sir,” said Spears, oblivious of the rub as he sat immediately at the table and began taking food and drink for himself. “So sorry I am late. My blouse was not up to snuff. I needed some pipe clay and powder to whiten it. Lane was assisting me.”
“It looks presentable now,” said Holtz matter-of-factly as he took some cheesed eggs, “except for that spot on your wrist cuff. You should attend to it after breakfast.”
Jonathan couldn’t help but look at Spears’ wrist. There he saw the spot, though it was really more of a line. In the next second, he also saw that this thin line, about three to four inches long, had a dark brown, almost reddish tint to it. As Jonathan stared, it seemed to grow, as if something underneath was feeding it. Suddenly, Jonathan shuddered, as he realized it was a wound, bleeding underneath the cloth and still fresh.
Immediately, Spears caught Jonathan looking and adjusted his coat to cover the blood.
“There,” said Spears, “All proper and prim.”
Now Jonathan knew with absolute certainty that Spears had tried, once again, to murder him, the wound surely coming from the knife used in last night’s altercation. He wrestled with telling someone, maybe Sean or Harrison.
What then would happen next? He wondered. I have no proof it is Spears. Do I tell the Captain? He already seems disappointed in me, so would he even believe the accusation? It would only be adding more fuel to the fire of hatred Spears has for
me. That’s it. I have made up my mind. I will deal with him myself. These friends have already done much for me. It is time to stand on my own, as I have done on the streets and as I have planned.
Eventually, the talk moved to the duties at hand, about loading supplies and taking on additional water if any were to be had. The Captain also reminded Steward and Holtz, who were to go ashore immediately after the meal, to pass the word of their mission to any other British ships at dock or in the bay and see if they could arrange additional company.
As Steward left with a few dirty dishes, Garvey approached the Captain’s door and was shown to the table to report his urgent news.
“Beggin’ your pardon Captain, sirs,” Garvey said, bowing.
“Go ahead, Garvey, but have you eaten?” replied the Captain.
Garvey looked at the officers sitting at the fine table and was taken aback at the invitation. The Captain’s table was for the elite aboard, not a common seaman. But Captain Walker had shown before that he broke a few rules and bent etiquette from time to time. Sean Flagon, a mere seaman, had been to dinner numerous times with the Captain, so it was not all that out of the ordinary.
“Eaten, well,” stumbled Garvey. “Is this fare from Claise or Steward?”
“Steward,” chuckled Harrison, knowing what was coming next.
“I have eaten my fill, Captain, though many thanks for the generous offer,” answered Garvey. “Just thought you might like to know that I have just come from the crow’s nest and I got a good look at the harbor.”
“Ah! Spa-len-did!” said Walker, “And how many of our sister ships are in attendance?”
“Unfortunately, only Mr. Harrison will be pleased,” Garvey said. “Just the Periwinkle is in port.”