tossed the huge length of rope overboard. A sigh of relief washed over the crew. Not many captains practiced hanging, but if any of them did Percy would be the one to do it. He crossed the ship letting the rope dangle over the side and gently wrapped it under the bow. The rope was now caught in the wake under the vessel, crossed under the ship. I couldn’t imagine what he had planned. With Percy it could be anything but it was no doubt nefarious.
He turned back to the crew with the long rope still in hand. “Well… someone go bring me the other end.” He pointed over board. Everyone looked warily at first. “Now!” He shouted. One sailor immediately dove overboard. He skillfully landed away from the ship and worked his way carefully close. Making sure not to get sucked under the vessel he grabbed the rope. He let himself get smashed against the ship and then clambered up using planks and sheer force of will. I saw all this from my position on the bow.
He brought the noose back to Percy who was now in the middle of the ship. Handing him the noose he retreated to his post. The rope was now wrapped under the boat. “Now who here has hearda ‘keelhaulin’” he asked the crowd. The deck was quite. I myself had no clue what was about to happen but I wasn’t eager to find out. “Well, that’s a shame. I’ll be needin five strong men to grab the end of this rope.” There were no eager volunteers but somehow five men were gathered to the noose-less end of the rope.
Mackett tensed slightly to my left and I could see his knuckles go white. He seemed to know what was going on, but didn’t seem like the time for idle chatter. Percy walked over to where the sailor lay on the ground, having apparently given up on regaining his footing. His outfit was a dull brown and no doubt hid plenty of rum stains. Men with drinking problems did not tend to progress well in the Navy. Percy delivered another kick to his ribs before slipping the noose over his neck.
He pushed the man to the gun rails and held him precariously over the side of the ship. “You might want to take a breath of fresh air ‘afore you hit the water mate.” He pushed with one hand and walked over to the other side of the ship. The man fell in to the water with a drunken scream. The splash was muffled by the shouts of man-overboard going up along the boat. The situation finally struck home for me. He gave the men with the rope the job of hauling the man up in time. They were going to drag him underneath the ship. The men at the rope pulled and pulled trying to get the man up for air. The seconds ticked by as the length of rope coiled up on the deck. The men pulled harder and harder but for some reason I could tell by the slacking of the rope that they were pulling less weight. Maybe the current was lessening. I held my post, waiting.
The moment finally came. I heard shouts from the side of the vessel. Screams of anguish and horror rose up amongst the crew. One man sank to his knees and cried. The men on the rope kept pulling until the man came in to sight.
I should correct that, it was what was left of the man. The strain of the rope had caused his neck to bend at a severe angle and his arms and legs were so mangled that they were barely there. He was simply a torso and a head. He was very dead. Percy looked at the man with disgust. His stare shifted to the man in charge of cleaning that part of the deck. “No food for you until this mess is taken care of.” He said to now sickly looking sailor. Percy gathered up his cabin boys and finished going down the port side of the ship handing out plates and mugs as if he hadn’t just slaughtered a man in cold-blood. It was disturbing.
Mackett turned and looked at both Williamson and I. “I will own this ship one day boys. I will run the ship, you mark my words. Men like him are no better than dogs and dogs are no good at sea.” His voice was filled with venom. I wouldn’t have minded a mutiny, been in one before. The Royal Navy didn’t like them but if a ship sailed in to harbor with a new captain every once in a while and everybody told the right story no one asked questions. They take time to organize though and this voyage wasn’t to last more than a fort night. No one would risk a mutiny for such a short tour, not when they could take more measured action when we returned to the bay. Mutiny on land is a much more certain thing.
The man who was tasked to cleaning the corpse from the deck looked horrified. The planks where the corpse lay was soaked in blood. The body was soaked and it was hard to tell what was torn clothing and what was flesh. The gory pulp was none of my concern any more but I couldn’t help but stare at the cold remains. He was actually the third crewman Percy had killed at sea. The first had been in a dual, one of his quartermasters had been caught stealing. The second had been a young man who had snuck aboard to hunt pirates with his father. The boy was dropped overboard. The father had been confined to the brig. I had been under worse Captains and it didn’t bother me. I did my job and I did it well. I could tell that Mackett and Williamson felt different.
We went below deck to retrieve our fresh water and food. The food consisted of an unremarkable paste and a fresh lime, a good dinner for a hard day’s work.
The people seemed ill at ease when the man assigned to clean the deck came down. His shirt was soaked to the elbow in a muddy crimson. The man had a haunted look on his face as he got his food. The din of the cabin settled to stone silence and the crew finished their food without a sound. The silence spoke louder than any speech could have. The crew worried deeply of the ability of their captain to lead this mission without killing every member of the crew. If we faced a real threat, would we have the numbers to make a stand? It would become a real problem if he continued to kill people every other day. In a fortnight, might not have enough crew to keep the cannons going.
The night passed and darkness gave way to the light of dawn. The routine of the day would start again and if all went well no other sailors would die. The sailors only got one meal a day and Percy wouldn’t allow for morning grog. I was more than happy to crawl out of bed and begin another day of cleaning cannons and scraping metal. I had pride in my job and it had never cared what Captain commanded my vessel. I am a man of duty and despite the depreciating quality of the captains I have served under in recent years I do my job, every single day.
Mackett and Williamson were on the deck a short while after I had begun preparations for the day. We had to perform cannon tests and drills today, one cannon ball, just to keep up the practice. The long guns at the bow of the ship were hard beasts to master. That’s why the King’s Navy needed dedicated and skilled munitions handlers such as ourselves.
As we cleaned the cannon and the deck of the bow I noticed something in Mackett, he seemed ill at ease. If it had been another sailor I would have assumed him to be getting sea-sick. Mackett had a gut of iron though; it would take more than choppy seas to get him twisted in knots. Williamson seemed to note his disease as well and never strayed far from his side, which is hard to make more noticeable considering the two were basically attached at the hip to begin with. The huge Irishman loomed over Mackett like a nun. He cast disapproving glances when he thought no one was watching. The exchanges and change of behavior set me ill at ease following yesterdays display of barbarity on the deck. I hoped Mackett didn’t have a plan for the Captain.
All things considered the day went by quickly with a few games of poker and a great deal of cleaning and scanning the horizon for anything with the wrong colored flag. I kept track of the two men, Williamson made it an easy task as he was prone to boisterous shouts about challenging men for their wages over a game of cards. Calm fell over the ship as the men counted the time until inspection.
The horns never sounded when the Captain made deck. When he took the deck it was with a group of marines in tow. The marines wore their usual red coats and from their midst a man was being drug across the deck. There were six marines on board, in service of the Captain and to repel boarders. The man in their midst was being drug across the deck and looked like he had taken a beating. The men aboard the ship were still as the planks as they watched on.
I recognized the man as the ships cook. The Captain paced furiously in front of the man, his coat billowing behind him with the speed of
his gait. No man in the midst dared, no one moved. With a flourish the Captain pulled a cutlass from the waist of a marine and held it to the cook’s throat. He growled a few words, but I couldn’t hear the exchange from where I was. Percy flicked the cutlass across the man’s chest drawing a stream of blood.
“All I ask is that the men aboard my ship do their jobs”. Percy’s voice finally carried to the bow. The cook went limp in the arms of the Marines that held him. Percy, set the cutlass on the man’s neck and violently jerked it up. The man’s ear came clean of his head and arced to the deck. The man’s shirt was soaked in blood in seconds. I could feel a tension growing on the deck. The cook was a vital part of a long expedition. The position of the cook was almost sacred on Navy vessels. This was brutal murder, nothing more. I felt Mackett’s anger rolling off of him in waves. I knew this was going to end badly and I had no intention of stopping it. I am not a brave enough man to stand between Percy and an angry, mutinous crew.
As Percy raised the sword again, Mackett became a blur of motion as he leapt the bow. He landed with a thud that caught the ears of
Mackett's Origins Page 2