Already Among Us

by Unknown

  Alex opened the door and walked in, not without trepidation. The hut was lit by guttering candles stuck in empty bottles, to show a rowdy group of individuals seated around a long table. One of them, with a patch over his eye, glared up. “Who goes?” he challenged.

  “Captain Greenbeard of the Incompatible,” said Alex, firmly. “I just got in.”

  “Oh, well, siddown, mate,” said the pirate. “I'm Cap'n One-eye, and these here is Henry Morgan and Flint and Long John Silver and Hook and Anne Bonny and our admiral La Fontaine, and--” someone clapped a hand over his mouth.

  “Who's this?” squeaked La Fontaine from under his cocked hat. Twenty pairs of Hoka eyes swiveled from to him to Alex and back again.

  “Why, scupper and gut me!” growled another, who had a hook taped to the end of his hand. “Don't ye know Cap'n Greenbeard?”

  “Of course not!” said La Fontaine. “How could I know a Cap'n Greenbeard when there ain't any such man? Not in any of the books, there ain't. I'll wager he's John Paul Jones in disguise.”

  “I resent that!” boomed a short Hoka, bouncing to his feet. “Cap'n Greenbeard's my cousin!” And he stroked the black, glossy, but obviously artificial beard on his chin.

  “Blast me, nobody can say that about a friend of Anne Bonney,” added the female pirate. She was brilliantly bedecked in jewels, horse pistols, and a long gown which she had valiantly tied to give a low-cut bodice. A quadrimammarian Hoka needed two bodices, one above the other, and she had them.

  “Oh, very well,” grumbled La Fontaine. “Have a drink, cap'n, and help us plan this raid.”

  Alex accepted a tumbler of the fiery native distillation. The Hokas' fantastic capacity for beverage alcohol he was well aware of, but he hoped to go slow and, in view of the long head start the others had, stay halfway sober. Maybe he could master the situation somehow. “Thanks,” he said. “Have one yourself.”

  “Don't mind if I do, mate,” said La Fontaine amiably, tossing off another half liter. “Hic!”

  “Is there any spirits of ammonia here?” asked Alex.

  One-eye shifted his patch around to the other orb and looked surprised. “Not that I know of, mate,” he said. “Should be some in Bermuda, though. Ye want it for polishing up treasure before burying it?”

  “Let's come to order!” piped Long John Silver, pounding his crutch on the table. His left leg was strapped up against his thigh. “By the Great Horn Spoon, we have to make some plans if we're going to sail tomorrow.”

  “I, er, don't think we should start that soon,” said Alex.

  “So!” cried La Fontaine triumphantly. “A coward, is it? Rip my mainto'gallantstuns'l if I think ye're fit to be a Captain o' the Coast. Hic!”

  Alex thought fast. “Shiver my timbers!” he roared back. “A coward, am I? I'll have your liver for breakfast for that, La Fontaine! What d'ye take me for, a puling clerk? Stow me for a—a--sea chest if I think a white-faced stick like yourself is fit to be admiral over the likes of us. Why,” he added, cunningly, “you haven't even got a beard.”

  “Whuzzat got to do with it?” asked La Fontaine muzzily, falling into the trap.

  “What kind of admiral is it that hasn't got a hair to his chin?” demanded Alex, and saw the point strike home to the Hokas about him.

  “Admirals don't have to have beards,” protested La Fontaine.

  “Why, hang, draw, and quarter me!” interrupted Captain Flint. “Of course admirals have to have beards. I thought everybody knew that.” A murmur of assent went up around the table.

  “You're right,” said Anne Bonney. “Everybody knows that. There's only two here fit to command the fleet: Cap'n Blackbeard and Cap'n Greenbeard.”

  “Captain Blackbeard will do very well,” said Alex graciously.

  The little Hoka got to his feet. “Bilge me,” he quavered, “if I ever been so touched in m'life before. Bung me through the middle with a boarding pike if it ain't right noble of you, Cap'n Greenbeard. But amongst us all, I can't take an unfair advantage. As much as I'd be proud to admiral the fleet, your beard is a good three inches longer'n mine. I therefore resigns in your favor.”

  “But--” stammered Alex, who had expected anything but this.

  “That's fantastic!” objected La Fontaine, tearfully. “You can't pick a man by his beard—I mean—it isn't—you just can't!”

  “La Fontaine!” roared Hook, pounding the table. “This here council o' pirate captains is following the time-honored procedure o' the Brethren o' the Coast. If you wanted to be elected admiral, you should ha' put on a beard afore you came to meeting. I hereby declares the election over.”

  At this last and cruelest cut, La Fontaine fell speechless. “Drawer!” shouted Henry Morgan. “Flagons all around to drink to the success of our venture.”

  Alex accepted his warily. He was getting the germ of an idea. There was no chance of postponing the raid as he had hoped; he knew his Hokas too well. But perhaps he could blunt the attack by removing the leadership, both himself and La Fontaine.... He reached over and clapped the ex-chief on the shoulder. “No hard feelings, mate,” he said. “Come, drink a bumper with me, and you can be admiral next time.”

  La Fontaine nodded, happy again, and threw another half-liter down his gullet. “I like a man who drinks like that!” shouted Alex. “Drawer, fill his flagon again! Come on, mate, drink up. There's more where that came from.”

  “Split my mizzenmast!” put in Hook. “But that's a neat way o' turning it, Admiral! 'More where that came from.' Neat as a furled sail. True, too.”

  “Oh, well,” said Alex, bashfully.

  “Here, drawer, fill up for Admiral Greenbeard,” cried Hook. “There's right. Drink deep, me hearty. More where that came from. Haw!”

  “Ulp!” gulped Alex, Somehow he got it down past shriveling tonsils. “Hoo-oo-oo!”

  “Sore throat?” asked Anne Bonney solicitously.

  “More where that came from,” bellowed Hook. “Fill up!”

  Alex handed his goblet to La Fontaine. “Take it, mate,” he said generously. “Drink my health.”

  “Whoops!” said the ex-admiral, tossed it off, and passed out.

  “Yo, heave ho,” said Billy Bosum. “Up you come, mate.”

  They hoisted the limp figure of La Fontaine over the rail of the Incompatible. Alex, leaning heavily on Olaf, directed operations.

  “Lock 'm in m' cabin,” he wheezed. “Hois' anchor and set sail for Bermuda.” He started towards the sinking moon. Toka seemed suddenly to have acquired an extra satellite. “Secret mission, y' know. Fi-ifteen men on a dead-ead man's chest—”

  “Sling a hammock on the deck for the captain,” ordered Billy. “He don't seem to be feeling so well.”

  “Yo-ho-ho and a bottle for um,” warbled Alex.

  “Aye, aye, sir,” said Billy, and handed him one.

  “Woof!” groaned Alex and collapsed. The night sky began majestically revolving around him. Shadowy sails reached out to catch the offshore breeze. The Incompatible moved slowly from the harbor. Alex did not see this....

  Bright sunlight awakened him. He lay in his hammock until the worst was over, and then tried to sort things out. The ship was heeling to a steady wind and the sounds of sail-flap, rigging-thrum, plank-creak and crew-talk buzzed around him. Rising, he saw that they were alone in the great circle of the horizon. In the waist, the starboard watch were sitting about telling each other blood-curdling tales of their piratical exploits. Black Tom Yardly, as usual, was outdoing all the rest.

  Alex accepted breakfast from the cook, lit the captain's pipe in lieu of a cigaret, and considered his situation. It could be worse. He'd gotten away with La Fontaine, and they should be in Bermuda shortly after sunset. There would be time to warn it and organize its defenses; and the pirates, lacking both their accustomed and their new admiral, would perhaps botch the attack completely. He beamed and called to his first mate. “Mr. Button-nose!”

  Olaf approached. “Ay give yü good morning,” he said
gravely.

  “Oh? Well the same to you, Olaf,” replied Alex. There was a certain air of old world courtesy about the small viking which seemed to be infectious. “What kind of speed are we making?”

  “About ten dragon's teeth,” said Olaf.

  “Dragon's teeth?” repeated Alex, bewildered.

  “Knot, yü would say. Ay don't like to call them Knots, myself. It don't sound Varangian.”

  “Fine, fine,” smiled Alex. “We should be there in no time.”

  “Vell, yes,” said Olaf, “only Ay suppose ve must heave to, now.”

  “Heave to?” cried Alex. “What for?”

  “So yü can have a conference vit' the other captains,” said Olaf, pointing astern. Alex spun on his heel and stared along the creamy wake of the Incompatible. There were sails lifting over the horizon. The pirate fleet!

  “My God!” he exclaimed, turning white. “Pile on all sail!” Olaf looked at him, surprised. “Pile on all sail!”

  Olaf shook his round head. “Vell, Aye suppose yü know best,” he said tiredly, and went off to give the necessary orders.

  The Incompatible leaped forward, but the other ships still crept up on her. Alex swallowed. Olaf returned from heaving the log.

  “Twelve dragon's teeth,” he informed Alex reproachfully.

  It was not a pleasant day for Admiral Greenbeard. In spite of almost losing his masts, he could not distance the freebooters, and the gap continued to narrow. Toward sunset, the other ships had almost surrounded him. The islands of Bermuda were becoming visible, and as darkness began to fall the whole fleet rounded the headland north of Bermuda City Bay. Lights twinkled on the shore, and the Hokas crowding the shrouds set up a lusty cheer. Resignedly, Alex ordered his crew to heave to. The other craft did likewise, and they all lay still.

  Alex waited, chewed his fingernails. When an hour had passed and nothing happened except sailors hailing each other, he hunted up Olaf. “What do you think they're waiting for?” he asked nervously.

  The bear-like face learned forward out of shadow. “Ay don't t'ink,” said Olaf. “Ay know. They're vaiting for yü to signal the captains aboard your flagship. The qvestion is, what are yü waiting for?”

  “Me? Summon them?” said Alex. “But they were chasing us!”

  “Ay vould not call it shasing,” said Olf. “Since yü ban admiral, they vould not vant to pass yü up.”

  “No, no, Olaf.” Alex lowered his voice to a whisper. “Listen, I was trying to escape from them.”

  “Yü vere? Then yü should have said so,” declared Olaf strongly. “Ay ban having a terrible time—yust terrible—to keep from running avay from them vit' all sails set.”

  “But why did you think they were following us?” raved Alex.

  “Vy, what should they be doing?” demanded Olaf. “Yü ban admiral. Naturally, ven ve leave for Bermuda, they're going to folow yü”

  Speechless, Alex collapsed on a bollard. After a while he stirred feebly.

  “Signal all captains to report aboard for conference,” he said in a weak voice.

  “Gut and smoke me!” thundered Captain Hook, as the chiefs crowded around a table arranged on the poop. “Slice me up for hors d'oeuvres, but you're a broom-at-the-mast sailor, Admiral Greenbeard. We had to clap on all canvas to keep you in sight.”

  “Oh, well,” said Alex, modestly.

  “Blast my powder magazine if I ever seen anything like it. There you was, flying through the water like a bloody gull; and at the same time I could have laid me oath you was holding the ship back as hard as you could.”

  “Little sailing trick....” murmured Alex.

  “Blind me!” marveled Hook. “Well, to business. Who's to lead the attack on the fort, Admiral?”

  “Fort?” echoed Alex blankly.

  “You knows how it is,” said Hook. “They got cannon mounted on the fort which juts out into the bay. We'll have to sail past and give 'em a broadside to put 'em out of action. Then we can land and sack the town before Lord Nelson, blast his frogs and facings, shows up.”

  “Oh,” said Alex. He was thinking with the swiftness of a badly frightened man. Once actual fighting started, Hokas would be getting killed—which, quite apart form any natural sympathy, meant the end of his tenure as plenipotentiary. If he himself wasn't knocked off in the battle. “Well....” he began slowly. “I have another plan.”

  “Hull and sink me!” said Long John Silver. “A plan?”

  “Yes, a plan. We can't get by that fort without getting hurt. But one small boat can slip in easily enough, unobserved.”

  “Stab me!” murmured Captain Kidd in awe. “Why, that's sheer genius.”

  “My mate and I will go ashore,” went on Alex. “I have a scheme to capture the mayor and make him order the fort evacuated.” Actually, his thoughts extended no further than warning the town and getting this noxious vegetation off his face. “Wait till I signal you from the jetty with lanterns how you're to arrive. One if by land and two if by sea.”

  “Won't go, Admiral,” said Anne Bonney. She waved into the darkness, from which came the impatient grumblings of the crew. “These men won't brook delay. We can't hold 'em here more than a couple of hours. Then we'll have to attack or face mutiny.”

  Alex sighed. His last hope of avoiding a fight altogether, by making the fleet wait indefinitely, seemed to have gone glimmering. “All right,” he agreed hollowly. “Sail in and land the men. Don't fire on the fort, though, unless it shoots first, because I may be able to empty it, the way I suggested.”

  “Scupper and split me, but you're a brave man,” said Hook. “chop me up for shark bait if I think we could ha' done anything without you.”

  “Thanks,” gritted Alex. This last was the unkindest cut of all.

  The other Hokas nodded and mumbled agreement. Hero worship shone in their round black eyes.

  “I moves we drinks to the Admiral's health,” boomed Flint. “Steward! Fetch the flagons for—”

  “I'd better leave right away,” said Alex hurriedly.

  “Nonsense!” said Henry Morgan. “Who ever heard of a pirate doing anything sober?”

  “Psssh!” said Alex, rapping on the windows of the mayor's residence. Muffled noises came from the garden behind, where Olaf had tied up the guards who would never have permitted a green-bearded stranger to approach.

  The window opened and the mayor, an exceedingly fat Hoka, pompous in ruffles and ribbons, looked out, square into the nauseous tangle of hair beyond.

  “Eeek!” he said.

  “Hic!” replied Alex, holding on to the sill while the official mansion waltzed around him.

  “Help!” cried the mayor. “Sea monsters attacking! Drum up the guard! Man the battlements! Stow the belaying pins!”

  He was quite obviously prepared to launch his not inconsiderable weight from the window at Alex, when a familiar golden head appeared over his shoulder.

  “Alex!” gasped Tanni. “Where have you been?”

  “Pressed pirate,” said Alex, reeling. “Admiral Greenbeard. Help me in. Hic!”

  “Drunk again,” said Tanni resignedly, grabbing his collar as he scrambled over the sill. She loved her husband; she had been scouring the planet in search of him, had come here as a forlorn hope; but it is hard to shed joyful tears over a green beard quaking with hiccups.

  “Mayer Bermuda,” mumbled Alex. “British gen'leman. En'ertain th' lady. Ge' me anti-alco—anti—alco—alkyho—yo-ho-ho an' a bo'le o' rum—”

  Tanni left him struggling with the word and went off after a soberpill. Alex got it down and shuddered back to normal.

  “Whoof!” he exclaimed. “That's better.... Tanni, we're in one hell of a spot. Pirates—”

  “The pirates,” she said firmly, “can wait until you get that thing off your face.” She extended a bottle of ammonia and a wad of cotton.

  Thankfully, Alex removed the horror and gave them the story. He finished with: “They're too worked up to listen to me now, even in my character
of plenipotentiary. They'll be landing any minute. But if we don't offer resistance, there'll at least be no bloodshed. Let them have the loot if they must.”

  “Come, come,” said the mayor. “It's out of the question. Out of the question entirely.”

  “But they outnumber your garrison!” spluttered Alex.

  “Beastly fellows,” agreed the mayor happily, lighting a cigar.

  “You can't possibly fight them off. The only thing to do is surrender.”

  “Surrender? But we're British!” explained the mayor patiently.

  “Damn it, I order you to surrender!”

  “Impossible,” said the mayor doggedly. “Absolutely impossible. Contrary to Colonial Office Regulations.”

  “But you're bound to lose.”

  “Gallantly,” pointed out the mayor.

  “This is stupid!”

  “Naturally,” said the mayor, mildly. “We're muddling through. Muddle rather well, if I do say so myself.”

  Alex groaned. Tanni clenched her fists. The mayor turned to the door. “I'd better have the soldiers informed,” he said.

  “No... wait!” Alex leaped to his feet. Something had come back to him. Chop me up for shark bait if I think we could ha' done anything without you. And the others had agreed... and once a Hoka got an idea in his head, you couldn't blast it loose. His hope was wild and frail, but there was nothing to lose. “I've got a plan.”

  “A plan?” The mayor looked dubious.

  Alex saw his error. “No, no,” he said hastily. “I mean a ruse.”

  “Oh, a ruse!” The mayors eyes sparkled with pleasure. “Excellent. Superb. Just the sort of thing for this situation. What is it, my dear plenipotentiary?”

  “Let them in unopposed,” said Alex. “They'll head for your palace here, of course, first.”

  “Unopposed?” asked the mayor. “But I just explained—”

  Alex pulled out his cutlass and flourished it. “When they get here, I'll oppose them.”

  “One man against twenty shiploads of pirates?”