The Outrageous Fortune of Abel Morgan

by Cynthia Jefferies

  Merry-eyes laughed. ‘Why, can’t you feel our old vessel wallow?’ said he. ‘The worm has her and like as not she’ll sink any time. But don’t you worry. Being so lightened with us all gone she’ll probably last another hour or two, maybe even for the rest of the day.’

  My mouth must have dropped open in shock. I wanted to call after them as they pulled away from the Revenge, but my words died in my throat. I would not plead. I would not snivel and whine at my situation for I knew it would be of no use, but all the same, I was fearfully afraid. The worm was much to be feared. Ships’ timbers lasted only a few years in these waters. I had heard stories of ships disintegrating as they sailed, too late to get to port before the worm holes destroyed the timbers and all drowned. I had heard, too, of pirates taking another ship with the only purpose of abandoning their own vessel before it sank. Indeed, privateers did the same on occasion. But the captain had said they needed a surgeon. He had shaken my hand on it. Why now renege on the agreement and leave me to drown?

  I could clearly see my former shipmates, looking a small company compared to their captors, being herded into the boat and rowed safely to shore. I bitterly regretted offering to join the pirates. If only I had kept silent about my knowledge and had stayed with the men I knew! They had simply to trek across the island until they came upon the town, which the pirate captain had assured us existed, whereas I was to drown. The pirates must have no need of a surgeon but had brought me here to ease their comrades’ last hours, knowing they were going to abandon the sick men along with the ship. I had heard the pirate captain say that he needed no more crew. Is this what they did with sick men, then? Perhaps it was, though I had not heard of it before. Why had I thought that I, a mere boy, not yet fifteen, would be thought capable of being a surgeon? I had made a terrible mistake and would pay with my life.

  I gazed after the longboat, wishing with all my heart that I were aboard. I fancied, now it had been brought to mind, that this ship was indeed wallowing somewhat. She already seemed to be lying lower in the water than when I had arrived. I listened fearfully to the quiet ache of the rigging in the sunshine and the calm lap of the sea. All seemed well enough. But the teredo worm worked its evil out of sight and every seaman feared its work. I wondered, should I dive into the sea and swim to the Angel? It was not far and I could swim quite well, having learnt in the river at home. But I doubted the pirates would allow me on board. They would more likely shoot at me for sport and fend me off if I tried to climb aboard.

  The sun beat upon my head while I wandered the deck and watched my old shipmates being landed on the island and the longboat returning to the Angel. I looked disconsolately for signs of the Angel being readied to sail, but it had swung around on its anchor and I could not see if they were cutting away the rest of the damaged rigging. For a wild instant, I thought of raising the anchor of this ship and sailing it myself. Surely, I could at least set her drifting towards the island? All she needed was the muscle and the will to put her in motion. If I could do that I could hope to be reunited with my shipmates! I set to haul the anchor up, but before I had hardly felt its weight I let the cable drop. What if she drifted away from the shore instead of nearer in? If she sank where she was I could surely reach the island by clasping a barrel or a spar. If she drifted further out to sea I would certainly be lost.

  I looked around me and spied the water barrel. Once emptied, it would make a very fair aid to keep me afloat if I could find some nails to attach the lid.

  Black Tom was still sleeping, and his colour looked better. I went below and glanced at the other man, who was sleeping deeply in his stinking hammock. Their ends would be easy enough if they drowned while still drugged, but I didn’t intend to finish my life here.

  By dint of searching, I came across the carpenter’s hoard and took some nails and the means to drive them home. Well pleased with myself, I went back on deck. I decided to drink heavily of the sweet water as well as to fill as many pots and tankards as I could. I did not intend to wait until the ship began to sink, but I was at the same time reluctant to trust my life to the sea until I had to. While the ship was afloat, it afforded me safety from sharks and from the pirates using me for target practice if they saw that I was escaping.

  I did not know how quickly the ship might founder, so I set to and filled every vessel I could find with water. The rest I let run into the scuppers. When it was all drained out, I nailed the lid tightly on. It pleased me how secure it was. I was proud of myself for finding such a simple solution. To give me a secure hold on the barrel whilst I was in the water, I took a length of rope and tied the barrel up like a parcel, leaving a good loop for me to hang on to. I would be able to thrust my arms through the loop and so not risk losing my lifesaver.

  I decided to rest before leaving. I did not know if there were any currents between the ship and shore which might tax my energy. As a consequence, I joined Black Tom in the shade of the tarpaulin. I stretched out but took care to have an arm through the barrel’s loop. It would be sheer stupidity to risk being too far from it in the event of a sudden sinking. I also kept the hammer with me in case either of the pirates recovered sufficiently to try and wrestle my lifesaver from me.

  I was dozing peacefully when I heard the unmistakable sound of the ship being boarded. Hardly before I had time to sit up and take hold of the hammer, they were on board. I stood up as Merry-eyes, along with several others, climbed aboard. They looked in some surprise at my stance, but I was determined to hold them off until I could jump into the sea with the barrel. I might lose my life, but I would die while trying to escape, not like a cringing cur. I hefted the hammer and waited.

  ‘What’s this?’ said Merry-eyes, seeing the hammer in my hand. I expected him to be wary, but he laughed into my face. ‘What? Are you carpenter now as well as surgeon?’ He gestured to the hammer. ‘And look, Simon, how our little barber thinks to lay about him with his weapon!’ He laughed again.

  ‘Did you hope we had forgotten you and think to take our ship for your own?’ said the man Merry-eyes had called Simon.

  I shook my head.

  ‘Not him,’ said Merry-eyes, hardly able to speak for laughing. ‘He was more like to abandon her since I told him she would sink within the hour. Or maybe he thought to mend her planks with a few nails.’

  Simon laughed then as did the rest of the men and I could feel my face reddening. I hated that I had been made a fool of. I laid the hammer down with as much dignity as I could, though I would far rather have smashed the foul Merry-eyes’ mocking mouth with it. I stalked away from them, not trusting myself to speak. While I strove to control my temper, I stared out to sea, waiting for the blood to leave my face and for my breathing to ease. And I vowed that if ever Merry-eyes was in need of my ministrations he would not find me a gentle surgeon. I would not forgive and I would not forget. I knew how highly good surgeons were regarded by all seamen and meant to have the respect my calling demanded, young though I was. Respect was not, however, to come my way this day. Instead, when they saw how I had appropriated the barrel, Merry-eyes set me to undo all my work. I don’t know if they would have flogged me, but he threatened it and I did not dare cross him. It was easy enough to undo the rope. The knots were not so very tight. The nailed-up lid was another matter. I had driven them in so well that removing them was all but impossible. Simon, who was the man in charge of all carpentering, threw down a couple of tools to help me. He had laughed, but showed an appreciation for my difficulty, for which I was grateful. I didn’t make a very good fist of it though, and by the time I had the lid off it was badly split.

  Merry-eyes kicked it with his toe. ‘You will have the cost of providing another removed from your first booty,’ he told me with contempt.

  ‘I can mend it well enough,’ said Simon mildly. I learnt much later that he couldn’t bear to waste anything if it could be mended, and in time we both came to see certain similarities in our professions. His love of wood and care of it reminded me a litt
le of Ptolemy’s care of the human body. But all that was in the future. Maybe if I had been younger I would have taken the tease for what it was. I had weathered many such jibes in the past from my milk brother without resentment. But we are all made by our lives, and mine had not been easy. It seemed to me, then, that a dignified man would never forgive a slight but would avenge it in his own way and in his own time. Ptolemy would not have agreed, that I knew, and I could hear him dispute it with me in my head, but he had his respect, while mine was still to be earned. I took my own counsel, for it was all I had.

  When I was released from my labour, I found my patient below decks wakeful and in need to take his ease. As there was no bucket to hand, I assisted him on deck and afterwards sluiced him down. While engaged in this malodorous work, I decided that I would demand a surgeon’s mate to take such mean duties as soon as was practical. Merry-eyes and his companions made ribald remarks to me and the recovering pirate, but I could see they were impressed that he was on his feet, though weak. One of his friends found him a clean hammock and tied the soiled one over the side so the sea could wash it clean. And when Black Tom awoke, free of fever, I basked in the knowledge that I had done what none of them could do. If I had not been there he would have surely died, and the pirates knew it.

  I eventually discovered that the absence of the company of pirates had been no more than their commonwealth customs dictated. All should be present when booty was found, in case any thought the distribution unfair. And far from abandoning one ship for another, they had looked over the Angel and decided it would do them very well as a second vessel. None of them included me in these conversations, but they were not secretive about their business, nor did they treat me like a captive. They seemed to accept that I had volunteered to join them and would be with them for the foreseeable future.

  They planned, as had our dead captain, to careen the Angel, but would not risk it on this shore. Instead, both ships set sail for another island they had used in the past. And so, several days later, we dropped anchor in a hidden bay on an island I had never seen before. The Angel had fallen a little behind us and we had the best part of a day before she arrived. We had anchored a little way out so that when she arrived she was able to lie close in to the beach, ready for careening. All of us, including Black Tom under my care, had come ashore and spent several hours at our ease.

  As soon as they landed, Rowan Mantle hurried over to greet Merry-eyes and the others. He smiled at Black Tom, leaning on the crutch I had asked Simon to fashion for him. I had not wanted Tom to risk the wound by clambering into the longboat, but his friends had lifted him and no damage had been done. God willing, thanks to my care, his neatly stitched wound would continue to heal well.

  ‘He needs to be careful,’ I said to Rowan. ‘But he is healing well and his fever has gone. I have saved his leg.’

  Rowan Mantle seemed both amused and impressed. ‘So, young Sawbones,’ he said, ‘it appears you are as you said. Well, you can enjoy your leisure now unless administering to any hurts. It will take a while to careen your old vessel and fit her out for our purpose.’

  So began the fairest time I had known since I was taken from my father’s care. A pirate’s life can be hard and dangerous, with the shadow of the gallows always near at hand, but it can also be merry, and they were merry in this beautiful place. The men who had chosen a pirate’s life had chosen freedom over servitude. In some ways, they reminded me of my milk brother’s father, Coleman, the village blacksmith. He worked hard when needed but, being his own man, could take time off from his labours with no one to say him nay. But, unlike our village, these pirates worked in a community where everyone was a free man and no one man served another. The only master was work, and when that was done all could take their ease.

  The Angel was emptied and beached. Over a period of days, she was turned this way and that with willing hands to repair and clean her of the weed that adhered to her hull. I helped, too, and a richly stinking job it was when the sun hit the weed. When work was done for the day, I rambled freely over the small island, gathering such fruits and greens as I recognised were good to eat. Several of us fished from some rocks at one end of the beach, further adding variety to our eating. I made myself a bower and there I kept my journal every day, using a blank book I had discovered in Ptolemy’s sea chest. I made drawings of the less familiar fruits and flowers, hoping I might one day identify them. I kept away from Merry-eyes and he spent no more time trying to bait me. I think he knew I didn’t like him.

  I had a few small services to perform. Several men had stood on sea urchins and needed the spines taken out. Another gashed his arm and needed it stitching. Through these small offices, my standing grew until I felt respected by the band and secure in my place.

  As soon as the Angel was upright in the water once more, the Revenge was beached and careened in her turn. She was fit enough to be kept afloat and the decision to run both vessels was a very popular one, especially as we had men enough to sail them. Much discussion, accompanied by a great deal of rum, took place that evening on the beach. How to split the company fairly, who was to lead the second vessel, even which of the two should give me a place – all was argued over before decisions were made. When it became clear Merry-eyes would be voted leader of the Angel, I asked to join Rowan’s company.

  ‘For you invited me originally to join you,’ I told him. ‘And my first loyalty is to you, although I will of course attend to any in either ship that need my help.’

  To my relief, this was thought a very honourable plea, and my place on the Revenge was confirmed.

  Before we sailed, I asked if I might look in my dead captain’s cabin for books, as apart from Ptolemy’s small collection of medical treatises I was without reading matter. Rowan was happy to agree and Merry-eyes saw no profit in objecting.

  ‘But watch your step, young Sawbones,’ said Rowan. ‘We are still making changes to your old ship. I wouldn’t want our surgeon to be injured, for who would doctor you?’ He laughed and slapped me on my back, as was his habit.

  In spite of the warning, I was taken by surprise when I went aboard. Fore and aft, all impediments had been demolished, and the open deck lay flat and uncluttered like the Revenge. It made the Angel look bigger than I had remembered, and it would allow easier boarding of other vessels. The changes weren’t all restricted to above decks either. Below, all the bulkheads and partitions had been removed, apart from the captain’s cabin. The other small cabins were all gone, including the surgeon’s. All was open space. More, the carpenter had opened two new ports below deck. Even now, they were bringing a couple of their cannon on board to augment the Angel’s complement. Both ships together would be, I could see, a formidable force.

  I made my way into the captain’s cabin and saw that his possessions had already been ransacked. On a small shelf, however, behind a rail, sat several volumes. I went to them eagerly. One was the bible, but I had Ptolemy’s. Another was a journal, which would be useful for its remaining empty pages. There was also a slim volume of poetry, inscribed to him from a lady. I had not thought the captain a romantic man. I wondered if she waited for him yet and if she would ever hear what had happened to him. Of his log there was no sign, but the last volume was a book of essays. I took it, the journal and the poetry.

  Both ships were nearly ready. The Angel was rerigged where the cannon had done damage, both had been careened, and the final day was spent cleaning and refilling the water barrels. The men were in high good humour for I think none liked to feel the earth for too long under his feet. I came back from my usual ramble to be greeted by Black Tom, who was by now able to get about very well with the aid of a stick.

  ‘How do you like our new figurehead?’

  I squinted to look. The Angel was floating nearby, but it was hard to see clearly into the setting sun.

  ‘What have you done to her?’

  Black Tom laughed. ‘An angel is too good for the likes of us, so I have shared my name with
her. With the help of some pitch she now has the same colour skin as I. We have named her the Black Angel, and she and I will be shipmates. I hope you will wish us good fortune.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said, more heartily than I felt, for I had come to like Black Tom very much and hoped he would have chosen to sail with the Revenge. ‘How is your leg?’ I asked him.

  ‘It does well enough,’ he said. ‘But it itches badly, and the stitches are troubling me.’

  I was pleased when I took a look at it. ‘I will remove them,’ I said. ‘But you must promise me not to overuse it for the next couple of weeks. I don’t want to get a signal from the Black Angel, asking me to stitch it back up again.’

  ‘I will. You do know how grateful I am to have both legs?’

  I laughed. ‘You are most welcome. Your wound gave me an opportunity to show Rowan that I am indeed a competent surgeon. I might not be here now, had I not the means to prove myself.’

  We embarked that evening and set sail at dawn the following day. I had not expected to be given a cabin, for almost all the men, the captain excepted, bunked together. However, there was a tiny place for me and my medicines.

  ‘Why, sir, thank you,’ I said, much pleased.

  Rowan looked almost as pleased as I.

  ‘We have been without a surgeon for a long time,’ he said. ‘And now we find we have a likeable young man, no more than a boy, who is less a sawbones and more a physician. I have seen men suffer in terrible pain and want to save them from such a fate if I can. I wish to make your time with us a pleasant one and hope that as you have joined us freely you will want to stay.’

  I thought of the many pirates that had been hanged without consideration and reflected that no man has only one story to him. Rowan Mantle was indeed a cold-hearted killer, but also a man of feeling. Over the past days I had heard several of the pirates talk of their lives: Black Tom had suffered as a slave on the plantations of the Americas; Simon, like me and several more, had turned pirate when his ship had been captured; others had turned to thieving rather than starve when orphaned and had escaped the rope to find themselves sent to sea. It seemed clear that few had been born villains. As for me, when I was a boy, I had played at pirates with my friend Charlie but had anyone suggested I might become one both, he and I would have laughed heartily. So, life takes us and rattles us around like dice in a box, never telling which way the spots will fall.