Laughing at James’ reaction to the threat I assured, “Ah, don’t worry, mate. He’d fall flat on his fat back if he tried.”
As if my humor was releasing James from his duties, the skinny little rat sat up and whispered to me, “Is there something else I can do? This work is hurting my knees.”
Lookin’ at him as if he was insane, I offered another unpleasant chore. “Ye see the tear up thar on the topsail, Thornton?” He looked up to see the rip. “The canvas fabric gets all tattered with holes from flappin’ against the mast and lines, so next ye can climb up thar and patch it up.”
His sallow face flushed with the worry that I hoped to inflict. “While we are sailing? That is so high up. I am afraid of heights. What if I fall? I can’t swim you know, I might drown…”
He rambled on with a bluster of fears that I had not expected, so I attempted to tame his irritating dash of panic with a laugh. “Ah, ye squiggly ol’ crybaby. We don’t be doing that kind of thing ‘til night when the ship is still. We’ll be taking the sail down and patching it on deck. So get back to holy stoning and quit whining ‘bout it.”
James resumed his sanding with a newfound vigor as he gasped his relief. “Oh my, Bentley. Ye had this old heart of mine beating out of my chest. This doesn’t sound so bad now, but honestly, I hadn’t expected so many chores.”
“Well get used to it, mate. Runnin’ a wind powered ship be based on the brunt of sheer muscle and fast acting wit; the better condition of the ship and the higher skill of the crew, the faster she’ll sail and maneuver.”
James looked up towards the full sails, and with the sunlight beaming in his eye, he squinted. “We are going pretty fast right now. Much faster than the ship I sailed to Jamaica on.”
No matter how I felt about Morley, that bastard kept a well-stocked ship and strictly managed a highly capable crew so it was easy to boast. “This bitch is just cruisin’ along, mate. She can go much faster if need be. These ugly mutts be savvy to gather the greatest speeds the winds allow, and if a conflict comes to rise, we be well equipped with thirty great guns, loaded with shot, and enough other weapons to make a man-of-war run home cryin.”
“Guns? Aren’t those called cannons?” James questioned while pointing to the guns lining the starboard gunnel.
“Ashore they be cannons, and cannon balls, while at sea they be guns and shot.”
He nodded his head to agree.
I continued to tell him a few things about the sea and the ways of the crew, but while fanning me hand around to showcase the vile men I had intended to compliment, I noticed a disgruntled bunch of them huddled together near the foremast. Seeming to go perfectly with Captain Morley’s new swing of things, the one named Perkins looked at me with a peculiar squint that left me brewing in suspicion. James smiled like a monkey, distracting my concerns. “I signed the code with my blood last night.”
I knew that he had or he wouldn’t be here, but the boyish glee on his dumbstruck face reminded me how the similar desire for freedom and greed brought together an otherwise unlikely group. Each of us related by the stamp of blood that committed us to the rules of the crew. The rough sheet of paper that displayed the commands was pinned to the mainmast with Captain Morley’s knife.
Articles of Agreement
Captain Dedrick Morley’s Crew
I. That every man shall obey his commander in all respects but also has an equal vote over matters at hand including who will be Captain and Quartermaster.
II. The Captain and Quartermaster to receive two shares of a prize: navigator, boatswain, and gunner, one share and a half, and other officers one and quarter.
III. No person to game at cards or dice for money.
IV. To keep their piece, pistols, and cutlass clean and fit for service.
V. Any man that attempts to jump ship or keeps secrets from the Company shall be marooned with one bottle of powder, one bottle of water, one pistol and one shot.
VI. Any man that spreads dissension, breeds mutiny or fights with crew members on board will be keelhauled.
VII. Lights out at eight and no guns fired in the hold.
VIII. Each man has equal title to the fresh provisions, or strong liquors, at any time seized, and may use them at pleasure, unless a scarcity. Any man caught stealing will be keelhauled.
IX. He that shall be found guilty of cowardice in the time of engagements shall suffer what punishment the Captain and the majority of the Company shall think fit.
X. He that shall have the misfortune to lose a limb in time of engagement, shall have the sum of six hundred pieces of eight, and remain aboard as long as he shall think fit.
XI. There will be no boy or woman allowed aboard.
After rambling on about his opinion of the code, James asked, “So are the rules the same for every crew?”
“Each captain makes his own code, but they usually be considerably similar.” I showed James the scar on the side of me palm, calloused from the many times I had slashed marked meself to a crew in that manner.
He stood up to look at me scar. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he laughed, “So you’ve been doing this for some time. Is that why you’re standing around talking to me while I sweat like a dog, working in the sun?”
“Well, that and the fact that I be the navigator.” His eyes grew wide with interest. “Ye don’t always see the navigator mentioned for higher payment on the code, but I insist upon a higher payment for me work. Most captains out thar know I be worth the expense.”
While I continued on about the perks I received for my position, Nortty, the Quartermaster, barked at James, “Ye sure as shit don’t gain yer perks by running at the mouth when thar be work to accomplish.”
James got back to work and Nortty called me to meet with the captain, whom had been a recluse in his cabin all morn.
Norton “Nortty” Hensley was a round sweaty bastard that had thin gray hair and wore a vest that was too small. He was a former accountant that was crooked as a worm, and got caught having an affair with his governor’s wife. Somehow he wiggled his way out of his sentencing and escaped to his life at sea where he could continue with his crooked-minded abilities.
Witty as a weasel he be, but aside his record of unfair balances, he ran a fair crew and kept an even tally over the dividends. A quartermaster’s reward at sea be much greater than that of an accountant ashore, and with his ration being next to that of the captain, he seemed to enjoy dispersing the smaller portions of the loot.
I always liked Nortty, and we talked about the weather as I followed behind him. On our way across the deck, I looked up to see Captain Morley’s Jolly Roger flapping in the breeze. The two pistols crossed behind the death head reminded me to keep me own pistol ready as I entered the room.
The captain’s quarter on the Wind of Glory was simple and dingy. I don’t think Morley ever opened the windows, so it was always stuffy and dim in the room. The wooden walls were void of décor and the furnishings were all mismatched. Different shaped chairs surrounded the long wooden table, and there was a bookshelf against the bulkhead that was mostly empty. Thar were plain linen sheets on the bed that was never made, and other than the great guns that Morley kept polished, the rest of the room was always a mess of rum bottles, cigar ashes and whatever other debris he busied himself with.
The captain was sitting in his red velvet chair with his boots up on the table and his arms behind his head. His loyal deck hands were swarmed around his table and he greeted me with an unusually jolly smile. “So tell me where we be sailing, Bentley.”
Though alarmed by his pleasantries, I showed him me maps without question. Discussing the course to Una Palma, I showed him my sketch of the island, and while pointing out important landmarks on the shore, I told him what I’d ‘ave to do once we got thar.
His men sat quietly, but their festering hatred seemed to intensify the heat in the dingy room. Not wanting to show the resentment I felt towards me captain, I kept a straight face throughout the meeting, b
ut I kept me mind ready to fight if’n anything went awry.
Things seemed to wrap up without a problem, but as I began to roll up me map, Morley jabbed his knife right through the compass rose on my paper and glared at me with dissension. “Ye farce this up, Bentley, and I’ll get that rose on yer chest next time.”
I wanted to grab his knife and stab it through his cheek, but thar was no hope in raising a fuss against the group before me. More than his threat, I hated the way that he had me cornered. Clenching my teeth so hard that I thought they might shatter, I pulled the map back towards me and let the blade rip right through the paper. Wrapping it up around the terrible tear, I nodded at Morley, and though I was able to keep me composure, I fantasized ‘bout killing them all as I walked out the door.
The next days rolled by with smooth weather and speedy winds. The ocean glistened in sheer shades of aqua, and the sun was warm and bright; making me wish I had me coat to keep the sun from burning through me shirt. Smooth as the sail had gone, the same could not be said about the tension Captain Morley set around his crew. For the most part he hid in his cavern, but when he did emerge, his mood was volatile; grumbling with threats to keelhaul anyone that got in his way. Refusing to let him make a prisoner out of me, I kept a fair distance, and found it simple enough to enjoy meself as I liked to.
Odd enough, I spent most of me time with James Thornton. He had affixed himself to me side, asking questions like a nattering child, but his insistent jabbering made for a rather amusing distraction from my otherwise infuriating predicament.
The more James carried on, the more I came to understand his story. Finding himself on the brink of homelessness in London, he took his last bits of change to sail to Jamaica, hoping for a new start. Certain to blame his failure on all the world around him; it was plain for me to see that he was the problem. Being lazily unconcerned with the ways of society, he blew through his loot without ever taking to work, and quickly found himself sleeping behind a tavern in Port Royal. After a few days of observing the buccaneers at the taverns, he thought a shot at piracy might suit him better, yet here he was; complaining about the chores, whimpering that he might be getting seasick.
Knowing that we’d be coming upon Una Palma in the morning, I spent the evening on deck, relaxing under the stars. Howard and Quincy joined me with their smelly cigars and together we enjoying the way that James handled his rum. The show was short lived, for soon enough he ended up vomiting over the gunnel. As he passed out the little ostrich snipped at me. “I told you I was seasick.”
Once Howard finished smoking his cigar, we headed down to our hammocks, but on the way, Quincy made the mistake of bumping into Captain Morley. That black-spotted, hell-hearted son of a bitch shoved Quincy off of him and shot him in the gut.
The man that I was just laughing with was now dead at my feet. I was outraged by the unjust murder and without taking mind to what would be wise, I started shoving at the men that surrounded Morley. I don’t know what happened to Howard, but next thing I knew, Faron Flynn was right beside me fighting through the crowd. The rest of them men arose from their hammocks, instantly joining the violent fuss, but the fire of Morley’s other pistol quickly silenced the room.
Once the crowd was still, Morley hollered at the row of sweaty, bloody, and beaten men that stood before him. “Let this be a mind to any of ye that think it wise to stand in me way.”
He kicked Quincy’s dead body and his hateful glare landed on me. I accepted the fire that burned in his eyes, but refused to show any emotion in response.
I’d been hated afore, and had plenty of captains lock me into dangerous binds that put me life on the fringe, but never once had I sailed on the same ship as a captain that wanted me dead. I hadn’t foreseen the issues that would fester in Morley’s distaste for me, and felt rather foolish for not better thinkin’ it through. It was too late to change me mind about the journey, for I was stuck in the middle of the ocean with the ill company of this hell-hearted bunch, but I figured it was time to raise some ill company of me own.
X
Ever so relieved to finally get to Una Palma, and get the hell off of Morley’s deck for a while, I was quick to help the men lower the anchor. Before the job was done, a volatile bash of words slashed out near the foremast, and not one of us was surprised to find that Marv and Pete were yellin’ in each other’s faces again.
Those two had been in the English Navy together but were both thrown out after years of loyal service. Having nothing more than their sea skills to keep them fed, they each chose this life amongst the lawless to continue making a living on the tide. Marv had been Pete’s upper command in the service, and he held on to his position of power as if it was the only way things could be, yet Pete reveled in the fact that Marv’s overbearing power was now void, and was savvy to remind him of his dishonorable demotion.
They’d been cluckin’ at each other like a bunch of ol’ chickens ever since I’d known them and figured they would be ever more, since they never seemed to take interest in the duels that Nortty would threaten to solve their problems with.
Just before their slanderous fight came to blows, Nortty ran between them to manage the intensity. “If ye bloody swabs want to ‘ave it out ye can wait ‘til we get ashore. Hell, I’ll even polish yer gun’s up fer ye.”
As usual, the bickering loggerheads backed off, only mumbling terrible curse words as they separated. Nortty walked away, shaking his head. “It’s hardly been a week and these mates be acting like scurvy ridden ol’ grandmothers at each other’s throats. I ‘ave half a mind to tie them together for a keelhaulin’ just because they almost fight so often.”
Windsor had been playing his guitar, which intensified the emotion of the fight, and as Pete staggered past him he blurted out, “Next port we will plunder you a whole band, matey.”
With everything back in order, we lowered the longboats to row to shore, and Captain Morley, who had planned to stay on deck, ordered Nortty to row out with us. I heard Nortty promise to make a steady report, and as he walked over to join us, he called for me. “Bentley, the captain wants to speak with ye before we row.”
Of course he did. I walked over to see what the scoundrel wanted, and he met me with a wicked glare. “How ‘bout ye show me that map, Bentley.”
Hating him as I did, I was reluctant to hand it over, but having no other choice I passed him me precious drawing. Holding it up to compare the view, Morley nodded between the picture I had drawn and the view of the island. Annoyed as I was by him and the terrible rip he inflicted upon me map, my conceit over the artwork distracted me from my disdain; I was damn surprised by the accuracy of me sketch.
The sandy shoreline was long but the trees quickly encroached upon the coast. On the eastern end of the shore, there was a sheer rocky cliff that stuck out of the sand and the face of it fell into the clear water. At the top of the cliff there was one lone palm tree that leaned with the breeze, clearly explaining the island’s name Una Palma. If only I had colors to paint with.
I could see that Morley was also impressed, and he confirmed me assumption by declaring, “Aye. Good work, Bentley. It’s a damn shame ye can’t behave as well as ye draw. It’ll be a sheer pity for the world to lose such a valid artist of the sea.”
That hell-hearted son of a bitch. I had half a mind to punch him in the mouth, but thinkin’ better of it, I took me map back and walked to the rowboats without a response to his twisted threat.
A handful of men boarded the first boat, while Faron, Nortty, and John the Cook hopped in the boat with me.
Just as we got set to row, Pete jumped off the deck of the ship, belly flopping into the water. Rising from the blue gasping for air and cursing the pain of his graceless flop, he swam towards us gurgling, “Gotta get away from that blasted ol’ Marv back thar.”
Pete tried to beach himself in the boat, but Faron poked at his forehead with the end of an oar. “Back off ye blubbering sea monster, afore I send ye back to the deep.” Fa
ron laughed as each poke made it more difficult for Pete to roll in. The longboat was swaying and rocking like a storm had hit, and we were all getting splashed in the chaos.
Pete hardly had the breath to bellow his irritated yelp. “I’ll get in thar and ring yer scrawny neck like a wet rag.”
Already buzzing from the rum, I laughed like a crazy man as the scene went on. John the Cook was shaking his head and I heard him mumble under his breath, “Why the hell do I ‘ave to feed these mangy people.”
Nortty looked to be just as amused as I was but eventually he chimed in with his peace keeping management, “It would be convenient to hand out a duel while we be ashore, if’n ye boys can’t work this out.”
Faron quit poking and gave Pete his hand to offer help.
“I’d rather ol’ Marv give me a hand after that stunt.” Pete spit as he finally rolled in the boat. He flopped flat on his back between the benches, trying to catch his haggard ol’ breath, and I was laughing so hard I could hardly row.
The day was sunny and steaming with humidity, so I dipped me hat in the ocean, pouring the salty water on my head. Instantly relieving me of the heat, the cooling sensation ran down my back, leaving me long hair wet to cool me for a while to come.
Swishing our oars through the crystal clear water, I watched the liquid fade from a deep dark blue to a shimmering teal until it was white like the sand beneath it. Stepping out of the boats, our boots splashed in the shallow water and we disbursed onto the land. A few men went with John the Cook into the trees to find fruit and hopefully meat, while Pete sat in the shade against a palm with a bitter look on his face, drinking his rum alone.
Justified Treason (Endless Horizon Pirate Stories, Book 1) Page 13