Now his befuddled mind began to function. The fucking bitch has taken my gun, left me in darkness and locked me in. Stumbling back he stubbed a toe on the corner of the desk and cursed. Finding the chair, he stretched out for the bottle. Then he remembered. Again he got down on his knees, swearing as he searched. The floor was wet. By the time he found the bottle, he had rum all over his hands and legs. Swearing at himself for not replacing the cork, he raised the bottle and drained the dregs.
Yet another gunshot. He would have to do something. He could not just sit there drinking. But what if the girl had succeeded in unlocking the holds and freeing the slaves? The decks might be full of naked slaves, all thirsting for his blood. He would have to hold out alone in his cabin until the long boat arrived in the morning. But by that time the slaves would have broken open the armoury.
It struck him that Pamela must have his key. Could he rely on her to hide it in order to protect him from the anger of the rabble? Hardly likely. She would be the first to rip his guts open.
But suppose there was some other explanation for the gun-fire? The guards might have killed her. That must be it: six guards against one female. She was surely dead. Her nefarious plan had failed.
But if that were true, why so many gun-shots? There must have been three or four since he had woken. He dropped his head into his hands. There was nothing for it. He would have to take a chance. If fate decreed that he should die, he would do so courageously, like an English gentleman.
He went to the door, took three steps back and charged. The door stood firm. He collapsed, certain that he had broken his shoulder.
When the pain subsided, he began to bang on the door and shout.
“Open, open. Let me out.”
* * *
Ama, Tomba and their two co-conspirators lay on the main deck.
The guards had bent their legs back and threaded their handcuffs over their ankle-fetters. Ama’s shoulders ached, but when she tried to move it was worse. She recalled her journey on Damba’s horse. Then, at least, hope had borne her up. Now there was none. There would be no escape. Williams would surely hang them on the Chippy's gallows and let the sharks eat them, feet first, slowly.
The two men whom Tomba had taken from the sick bay groaned. Tomba whispered words of solace.
“No talking,” said Joe Knox nervously and flicked his cat at Tomba.
Ama longed for death. Itsho, I am coming, she whispered. And then she wondered whether he would be there to meet her. She had had to bury him without the rites which custom demanded. Perhaps his spirit was still roaming abroad, unsettled. And her own? What would happen to her spirit after dying such a terrible death, eaten alive by sharks?
The other two guards came back from their inspection of the ship. On the forecastle Knaggs was screaming. He sounded delirious.
“Everythin in order?” asked Knox.
“Yeah, cept fer George an Arry. They’s dead. An Fred. Sounds like e’s gone crazy.”
“Yeah, I ’eard. Ow’s Bill?”
The report on the condition of the half-strangled Bill was interrupted by the sound of banging from the captain’s cabin.
“Eh, the Cappin! I forgot all about im.”
“Not much elp e was.”
“Probably in is cups. We’d better go an see what’s up.”
* * *
“Open, open. Open the door and let me out,” Williams was still screaming as they descended the stairs.
“Coomin, Cappin, coomin,” called Joe. “Ere, bring that lamp.”
He found the key in the lock where Ama had left it. The door opened outwards. Williams was leaning against it and when it opened suddenly, he almost fell on Knox.
“Why, Cappin, where’s yer clothes?” Knox asked when he recovered his balance.
The old man’s gone off is rocker, he thought, loik Freddie Knaggs.
Williams came to himself. He felt the blood rush to his head. How could he have failed to realise that he was naked? What a humiliation!
“What do you mean by rushing in on me like that?” he demanded. “Here, give me that lamp.”
Minutes later he appeared on deck, full clothed.
“Now what’s been going on up here?” he asked.
“We ad a spot o trouble, sir,” Knox reported. “Cappin Tomba, beg yer pardon, sir, the slave Tomba, got out wiv two others. Tomba killed George Atcher wiv a blow to is ed while e was sleepin. Is haccomplice strangled Arry - I dunno is other name, sir, but e's dead too. But me an the lads we managed ter hoverpower them fore they could do any more arm. Only Bill got isself alf strangulated and Fred Knaggs as gone off is ed.”
“Where are the scoundrels?”
“We put em all in hi-rons, sir. They’s a’lying on the main deck, Tomba, is two haccomplices an the girl, the one they calls Pamela, wot spiks Hinglish.”
Williams went down on to the deck. He took one look at the captives, but said nothing.
“What weapons did they have?”
“Just this pistol, sir. Can’t think where they got their ands on hit. Tis not one of hours.”
“I'll have that,” Williams interrupted him, “and those of the two dead men, too.”
“Cappin, Cappin.”
It was Knaggs. Williams made his way to the forecastle.
“Cappin,” said Knaggs, “I seed hit all, I did.”
“What did you see, Knaggs?”
“The guards was all asleep, they was. Soon as they took their rum. But no rum for Fred Knaggs so I was awake, watchin the moon rise.”
He dropped his voice. He had a secret to share.
“I seed you unlock the door of the black wenches’ room an I eard you call out. ‘Pamela,’ you called; and when the hussy comes out I sees you . . .”
“Never mind about that,” Williams interrupted him hastily. “Did you see the insurrection?”
“Yessir, Fred Knaggs seed the srecshun. I seed hit all. If hit weren’t fer Fred Knaggs we’d all be dead by now.”
“What happened exactly?”
“I must ave bin dozin. Then I woke sudden and I seed this big nigger man bringin is and down on the guard which was sleepin on the first atch cover there. An two more is strugglin with the other two guards wot was on the atches.
“Then I gives the alarm. ‘Wake up! Wake up, guards, wake up!’ I ollers and they wakes up. Then the big feller ears me an panics an e starts ter come fer me.
“But jus then the girl, the same ussie, your Miss Pamela, beg yer pardon, Cappin, calls im.
“‘Tomba! Tomba!’ she ollers, ‘Unlock the atch,’ but I guess e doesna hunnerstand Hinglish cos e eads back ter elp is mates what is tryin ter strangle the guards wot was sleepin on t’other atches.
“Then the fellers on the quarter-deck starts shootin at im. E takes cover behind the main mast. Then I sees e as a pistol in is and. Is mates drops to the deck. Then one o the guards wot was bein strangled, rolls over and gets on is feet and sticks is pistol in Tomba's back. That were the hend of the srecshun, Cappin. The guards rounds hup the srecshunists, the girl too, an claps the hi-rons on em.”
Williams was silent. He walked over to the gunwale and looked out towards the Danish castle, all moonlit white walls and shadows. He was thinking.
“Cappin,” said Knaggs, his irons clinking as he moved.
“What?”
“If hit hadna bin fer Fred Knaggs givin the halarm, we’d a all bin dead by now. Twere a close shave, hit were.”
“Knaggs, I am a fair man. You did well. I shall have you released. But on two conditions. The first is that I want no more trouble from you during this voyage. Do you understand?”
“Yessir. Fred Knaggs as larned is lesson, Cappin.”
“The second condition is that not a word, not a single word, of what you have just told me is to reach the ears of anyone else on board. If I have any suspicion that you have opened your big mouth, I shall quickly find a good reason not only to clap you back in irons but perhaps to lose you overboard. Now will you
swear that you will be silent?”
“Cappin, thank you, sir. I swear by God Imself. Fred Knaggs gives you is word uv honour, sir.
“An sir . . .”
“What is it?”
“If there be any way Fred Knaggs cin be of service, sir, speshul service, I mean . . .”
“Thank you, Knaggs. I shall remember that.”
On his way back to his cabin he stopped for a moment and stood over Ama’s prostrate form.
“You ungrateful hussy,” he hissed.
* * *
When Williams had finished addressing the crew he had the overseers and some of the women brought out.
The bodies of the two white men were laid on tables. The four captives were partly unshackled and made to stand before them.
“Before we consign the mortal remains of the unfortunate Hatcher and Baker to the deep,” Williams told the crew, Dr. Butcher will make two incisions in their bodies and extract from each the heart and the liver. Two hearts, two livers. Each of the four criminals will be made to eat one organ.”
He paused, waiting for the buzz of conversation amongst the crew to subside. The slaves, understanding nothing, were silent.
“The good doctor tells me,” he continued, “that this punishment does not conform to the norms of civilised society. I have explained to him that this is not a civilised society. These people are barbarians, devil-worshippers, cannibals no doubt. It might well be that consumption of a white man’s organs will have some beneficial effect upon them. I have said my say. Mister Butcher, please proceed.”
In her worst nightmares, Ama had never expected this. To be subjected to torture; to be shot or hanged; to be fed alive to the sharks, perhaps. But to be forced to eat human flesh! From where she stood she could see George Hatcher’s face, no longer red, grey now. She was sorry that fate had decreed that it was he who should be one of their victims. He was a good man, drawn into all this, as she had been, by forces beyond his, and her, comprehension. She was consumed with a terrible anger at the injustice of life.
“Williams,” she screamed, “It is you who are the barbarian, the cannibal. It is you whites who eat the body and drink the blood of your god. It is you who buy human beings and sell them, sell us, as if we were sheep or cattle. It is you . . .”
William’s face turned a livid purple.
“Gag her. Gag her,” he screamed.
Ama’s words were cut off in mid-sentence as a cloth was stuffed into her mouth.
Butcher finished his post-mortem operation. Then the two coffins were brought up. The bodies were put in them and ballast added. The Chippy nailed the lids down.
“Go ahead,” Williams told Butcher.
Butcher looked up at him, appealing. Even at this stage he hoped that the captain would change his mind.
“Do what I say.”
The bloody excisions lay on the table. At least the dead in their boxes would not witness the consumption of their own mutilated parts, thought Butcher.
“I cannot do it,” he said, shaking his head sadly.
He was close to tears.
Williams looked at him with contempt.
“Knaggs,” he called, “come forward.”
“You are to feed each of these criminals with one of those organs lying on the table. Do you understand?”
“Yessir. Will they take em ole or shall I cut em up in pieces?”
“I leave that to you.”
“I think we’ll start with Missis Plum Duff. What’ll it be miss, liver or ’eart?”
Ama said nothing. This was her second clash with this man. She had been lucky to win the first. Now she was at his mercy. He was clearly revelling in his power over her. There was nothing she could do. Her feet were fettered. Her hands were manacled before her. A man had threaded an arm between her elbows and her back. Another held her head immobile. Knaggs cut one of the livers into slices. He held up a piece of the meat between finger and thumb displaying it to the assembly.
“Let’s ’ave no trouble now, miss. Open yer mouth.”
Ama clenched her teeth. Knaggs put the meat down and tried to force her mouth open. He failed.
“She won’ open er mouth, sir,” he told Williams.
“Butcher,” said the captain, “give him your speculum.”
With a wan look, the surgeon opened his instrument case and took out the speculum oris.
“Do you know how to use it, Knaggs?” asked Williams.
“Yessir,” replied Fred Knaggs.
He turned the thumb screw, bringing the two steel prongs together.
“ Old er ’ead firm, now,” he told his assistant as he forced the pointed ends between her teeth.
There was a murmur of protest from the watching slaves. It was silenced by a threatening flick of the cats. Ama strained every muscle in her body to resist but her strength was no match for the three men who now held her. Knaggs turned the thumb screw. The prongs forced her jaws open.
“Old hit now,” said Knaggs, turning to the table.
Ama had been clenching her muscles tightly against the irresistible force of the speculum. With Knaggs’ back turned, she relaxed; then she opened her mouth wide. The speculum fell to the floor. She clenched her teeth again.
There was a cheer from the slaves.
“Knaggs, you idiot,” said Williams, “I thought you said you knew how to use the cursed thing.”
Knaggs unscrewed the speculum and tried again.
“Go easy, man,” said Butcher, “You’ll break her jaw.”
Ama closed her eyes. She was on the point of losing consciousness. Her head was forced back and she felt the raw meat slither down her throat. Involuntarily she retched. The piece of liver shot out of her mouth and hit Knaggs in the face. The seamen laughed at his discomfiture. Ama's body sagged and Knaggs’ assistants had to hold her up.
“Lay er on the deck an I’ll ave hanother go,” said Knaggs.
“Captain Williams, sir,” protested Butcher, “Surely that is enough?”
* * *
When Ama regained her senses, she was propped up against the main mast with her hands manacled behind it.
Tomba lay on the deck before her. The slaves had turned and were gazing upwards. She followed their line of sight.
Tomba’s accomplices had been trussed, and now they were being hoisted to the lowest yard on the foremast. From the women there came a dreadful lament. Tears came to Ama’s eyes and she closed them. Such unimaginable cruelty, she thought, and it is my fault. She opened her eyes. Determined not to watch the show, she looked straight ahead, blinking the tears away. As her vision cleared, she saw a line of seamen standing behind the barricade on the quarter-deck, each with a musket raised to his shoulder.
“Aim at their hearts,” she heard Williams’ voice, “I want no bullets in their heads.”
A cry came from the men at the foremast, “Ready, Cappin.”
“Hold tight,” cried Williams, “Now men, ready, take your aim, fire!”
Fire and smoke emerged from the barrels of the guns. The crew cheered. The bodies of the victims slumped in their harnesses. From the watching slaves there rose an awful groan. Ama thought she heard an echo of the lament from the holds.
The trussed bodies were brought down and laid on the tables, blood dripping from their wounds.
“Firing squad, you may retire,” said Williams.
Ama thought she saw a glint of madness in his eye, but his orders were short and precise.
“Knaggs, another job for you. Take the cutlass and decapitate the corpses.”
“Sir?”
“Decapitate. Cut off their heads.”
Even Knaggs was beginning to think that Williams was a trifle touched. He nevertheless prepared to do as he was ordered. Holding the cutlass in both hands he raised it above his head. Waiting a moment in order to achieve the maximum theatrical effect, he brought the knife down, severing the corpse’s neck at a single blow. The head fell to the deck, rolled a short distance and came to
a stop. Blood issued from each part of the severed neck. Again a groan of bottomless despair issued from the throats of the slaves.
“Good,” said Williams, “They are beginning to get the message. And now the other one.”
“Well done, Knaggs,” he continued when the second head lay on the deck. “Now I need another volunteer. You, Knox; you have volunteered. Step forward now.”
“Yessir,” said Knox, stepping forward.
“Men,” said Williams, addressing his crew, “I should like you all to be quite clear as to my reasons for staging this performance today. We have a job to do. We now have a full cargo. Our job is to get these slaves to their destination in marketable condition. During our voyage down the coast I have spoken to them many times, explaining that if they were peaceful and obedient, I would be just and merciful. Last night, not for the first time, my trust was betrayed. It is clear to me that these people do not have any concept of right and wrong as we do. I was consequently left this morning with no alternative but to display to them the power that lies within my hands. My intention is to cow them into good behaviour. There will be no more kindness on this voyage, only the strictest discipline.
He turned to Knaggs and Knox.
“You will each take one head. Hold it between your palms like this.”
He demonstrated. Each man picked up a head.
“Now, Knaggs, you will start from the port side and you, Knox, from starboard. Present your head to each slave in turn and make them kiss the lips. If force is necessary to achieve this, it will be used. Now proceed.”
As Knaggs pressed his head against the face of the first slave, forcing him to kiss his lips, Ama shouted, “No, no. Do not do it. Do not let them force you.”
“That woman is incorrigible. Knox, take your head to her. Now make her kiss it.”
Ama shook her head from side to side, struggling desperately to avoid the dripping head.
“Knox,” called Williams, “Just press the bloody end of the neck into her face.”
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