by Bob Brown
Ganse ordered the officers to assemble and called, “Attention!”
The men had to spread their feet slightly apart, else they might lose their balance on the constantly moving deck. Mackenzie stood erect at the stern, facing the officers. Ganse stood on his right and Perry stood on his left. Without turning his head, Mackenzie moved his eyes enough to see that all the officers were present. Then he ordered, “Midshipman Spencer, step forward.”
Spencer blinked, but Ganse did not think he appeared surprised at being singled out. Had he guessed why Mackenzie had ordered this assembly? Perhaps the unusual appearance of pistols had sent the message that this meeting would be unpleasant.
Mackenzie took the necessary steps to stand directly in front of Spencer. “Mr. Spencer, I understand you aspire to the command of this vessel. How do you propose to do this, except by walking over my dead body and the bodies of my officers?”
“You have been misinformed, captain.” It seemed to Ganse that Spencer was forcing a display of arrogance in his reply.
“Did you not tell Mr. Wales that you had a plan to kill the captain, the officers, and a considerable portion of the crew?”
“I may have joked some, but that is all.”
“You admit then that you told him so?”
“Yes sir, but in joke.”
“This, sir,” said Mackenzie, “is joking on a forbidden subject, one that could cost you your life. Punishment for exciting mutiny could cause you to suffer death.”
Spencer gave a nervous laugh. “I assure you it was just an innocent pastime for my amusement, sir.”
“Do you deny having frequent conversations with Small and others?”
“Oh, I did that. It was just part of my amusement.” Ganse thought Spencer summoned a smile, but could not force it to surface.
Ganse glanced at the crew on the spar deck at mid-ship. He was sure that with the popping of sails and knocking of booms and blocks, they could not hear what Mackenzie and Spencer were saying. He noticed that Cromwell held a belaying pen in his right hand and was patting his left hand with it. Small was a statue of concern.
Mackenzie said, “Do you deny making a list of the people involved?”
All traces of arrogance dissolved. “I have no list. No one is involved in anything. As I told you, it was just a joke.”
“Remove your neckerchief, Mr. Spencer.”
Spencer shifted on his feet, but made no move to remove his neckerchief. He clinched his teeth and furled his brow, eyes squinting rapidly. “I protest such an indignity. There is no truth to your accusations.”
“You’re not in position to protest anything, Mr. Spencer.”
“I will explain . . .”
“Remove your neckerchief, Mr. Spencer.”
Spencer placed his hand on the neckerchief and seemed undecided whether or not to untie the knot.
“Now! Mr. Spencer.”
Spencer slowly untied the neckerchief and pulled it from his neck. He handed the rolled up, dirt stiffened, and sweat encrusted neckerchief to Mackenzie.
Mackenzie unrolled it and removed a crumpled piece of paper. He dropped the neckerchief and the breeze rolled and bounced it erratically down the deck. This freed his hands to smooth the paper and hold it against the wind. “This is Greek?”
Spencer smiled broadly, “Yes sir, just practicing my Greek, Sir. May I have it back now?”
“I know Greek, Mr. Spencer. This is a list of names. You are under arrest. Surrender your cutlass to Mr. Ganse.”
As Ganse stepped forward, Spencer’s smile disappeared instantly. He fumbled nervously with his belt buckle; his face was ashen. He finally handed his cutlass and belt to Ganse, who for a fleeting instant, wished he did not have to take it.
CHAPTER 15
Captain Mackenzie said, “Ganse, put Mr. Spencer in double irons.”
Ganse motioned to Garty, who scurried away to fetch the irons. Ganse asked, “Mr. Spencer do you have any concealed weapons?”
“No, but you had best overhaul me. No one believes anything I might say now.”
Ganse’s search produced a smelly old pipe, a small amount of tobacco, some coins, a stubby pencil scarred with bite marks, and a few scraps of blank paper. Garty returned with irons and dropped them with the expected clanging on the deck. He began putting them on Spencer’s wrists and ankles.
Mackenzie said, “Secure him to the larboard side of the bulwark. Instruct all his guards to put him to death if he tries to communicate with any of the crew. Mr. Ganse, search his locker and bunk for anything suspicious. Draw up a guard duty list consisting of officers only, and issue pistols to all men serving as guards. Dismiss the officers when you feel it is appropriate.” He looked about the Somers and with Spencer’s rumpled paper in his hand, he returned to his cabin.
Ganse remembered that he and Perry were to watch for any reaction from the crew. He had been busy searching Spencer but he could see Perry was observing the crew closely. He now had a chance to review the spar deck himself. The crew that had been scattered about was now drawn into several huddles. He did not see Cromwell or Small, but assumed they must be in the center of one of the huddles. He also noticed Spencer was preoccupied with observing the men. His afflicted eyes were blinking but Ganse did not believe he was looking at anyone in particular or trying to send signals.
Perhaps he should break up the huddles. No telling what they were discussing, especially with Cromwell and Small as leaders. Of course it would only be natural that they would be discussing Spencer’s arrest. Yes, that would be natural enough. They might be in an angry mood. They might even resist being broken up.
Perry said, “I don’t cotton to the way they’re talking in secret. They may be thinking of rescuing Spencer. Lets disband them, put them to work.”
Ganse studied for a moment. “They may disband shortly. Give them a few more minutes.”
Mackenzie opened his cabin door. “Mr. Ganse, when you are finished, come to my cabin.”
“I’ll be right there, Captain.” He looked at Garty, “Issue pistols to all the officers, including midshipmen.”
Then to Perry. “You take charge of the deck and guard Spencer for now. I’ll make a guard list after I see what Captain Mackenzie wants. And watch the huddles. Use your judgment, break them up if you think you should.”
As he descended the ladder in Mackenzie’s cabin, he heard Perry yelling for Cromwell to report aft and blow his boatswain’s whistle for the crew to assemble for work details.
The whistle and Cromwell’s booming voice could be heard in the cabin. Mackenzie said, “I could recognize only a few Greek symbols on Spencer’s paper. It looked like the list we expected so I had Spencer arrested. Do you know any Greek? Can you translate these names?”
Ganse was dismayed that Mackenzie had lied to Spencer about reading Greek. “No sir, I can’t read Greek either.” He shifted his cutlass so he could sit down on the bench. Out of curiosity he looked at the rumpled piece of paper but had no idea what the symbols meant.
“Do you know if any of the officers can read Greek?”
“Perhaps Mr. Rogers.”
“If he can, have him report to my cabin.”
“Yes sir.”
Rogers entered Mackenzie’s cabin, with Ganse right behind him.
Mackenzie handed Rogers the well worn paper. Rogers studied it for a minute. “My Greek is not very good, and from the looks of this I think Spencer knows less Greek than I do.”
Mackenzie said, “Read as much as you can.”
Rogers said, “There are three lists of names. One is labeled ‘Certain’, another ‘Doubtful’, and the last one ‘To be kept.’ Small and Wilson are clear enough on the ‘Certain’ list, Wales also, I believe.”
“What about Cromwell?
“No sir, I don’t see anything that looks like Cromwell.”
Mackenzie said, “All right Mr. Rogers, you work here at my desk and reproduce that list in English as best you can. Especially the ‘Certain’ l
ist. Don’t write on the list, use another sheet of paper. Ganse, you help him, and don’t let that list out of your possession.” He stood up, flexed his shoulders and removed his jacket. “Let me know the instant you finish.” He climbed the ladder and left.
When Mackenzie returned, Rogers had finished with the “Certain” list.” The names were: Small, Wilson, McKinley, and two more that he could not make out. Mackenzie asked Ganse to describe Wilson and McKinley, explain their duties, and so on. He had never concerned himself with learning who the members of the crew were, or their duties. He viewed the crew as no more essential for the Somers than the rudder; both necessary, but neither exciting in detail.
Mackenzie said, “I would like to arrest these men, but more prisoners will be hard to guard. Ganse, for the rest of today, watch these men and break up all groups forming on the deck. Tomorrow I want you and Perry to interrogate these men and any others you think might be involved. Keep Wales present while you talk to the men. He knows the most about Spencer’s plans and may help keep them honest.”
Ganse searched Spencer’s locker and bunk. He found a surprising supply of rum and cigars, pirate books, a midshipman’s journal, the usual clothes, a small ink drawing of his mother, some letters, razor, and other personal items. He thumbed through all of the pirate books and the journal for loose pieces of paper. He found nothing important, but took the letters and journal to read later. Satisfied that there was nothing more that would help his investigation, he made a list of the items in the locker, put a new lock on it that Garty brought him and gave the list to Mackenzie. Mackenzie took the letters and told Ganse to read the journal. This pleased Ganse because he would feel uncomfortable reading Spencer’s personal mail.
**********
Rogers had the dog watch. The overcast night was dark and the wind was picking up. The Somers rolled heavy to larboard at times. Mist that soaked the spar deck was illuminated in a haphazard fashion from swinging lanterns. Rogers pulled his oil cloth cape around his head and shoulders but this did nothing for his cold, wet feet. He was trying to decide if he should summon Ganse about pulling in the top sails to reduce the excessive rolling.
The lanterns cast ever shifting shadows on Spencer, huddled under course canvas sail material. Rogers could not tell if Spencer was sleeping or looking out from a black hole where his head should be.
His heart pounded when he thought he saw something move in the shadow of the roundhouse. If it was someone! He was only a few feet from Spencer. He had his pistol drawn by the time the lantern swung again for another fleeting glance into the shadows. His heart pounded. The interloper on hands and knees had a cape draped over his head and shoulders and Rogers could not see his face. “Show yourself or I’ll shoot!” he shouted.
The intruder loped away in a crouch toward the hatch to the berth deck. Rogers yelled, “HALT, HALT!” as he took quick aim. “BANG!” Flame and dirty whitish smoke propelled a ball that splintered the deck beside the dark form and bounced out to sea. The shadowy figure dived through the hatch.
Almost at once Midshipman Oliver Perry sprang onto the deck in only his underclothes and a cocked pistol in his hand, his hair blowing wildly. He was followed by his older brother, Acting Master Matthew Perry and Ganse behind him. A gust of wind soaked them with cold sea spray.
Rogers did not wait for them to ask questions, “Someone tried to sneak up to Spencer and I fired at him.”
Mackenzie appeared from his cabin. Cromwell climbed the ladder from the berth deck. He had no blouse on but his hairy shoulders and animal like belly looked almost as if he was wearing some kind of fur. He did not go aft where the officers were. Several curious heads appeared in the berth deck hatch. Cromwell kicked at the head of one boy and ordered, “Keep your filthy asses below.” They quickly complied.
Mackenzie asked Rogers, “Did you hit him?”
Rogers replied, “I’m not sure, think I missed, it was dark and he moved fast.”
“Could you tell who he was?”
“No, it was a small person, maybe one of the boys.”
“You followed my orders exactly. I will commend you in the log. I wish you had killed him.”
To Ganse, Mackenzie looked calm and pleasant, almost as if he was enjoying the action. He knew this could not be the case, it just looked that way. He then looked at Spencer. The shape of the canvass bundle indicated that he was sitting erect, but his face was buried too deep in the shadows of the canvas to see him.
Ganse asked, “Who was the person, Spencer?”
A voice from the dark hole said, “I saw no one. I think itchy finger Rogers was shooting at ghosts.”
Rogers said, “Go to hell, Spencer.”
Mackenzie said, “Don’t expect a honest answer from Spencer, Mr. Ganse. You and Mr. Perry walk through the berth deck. If anyone was wounded, you might see a trail of blood. Look for clues like a wet cape, a man with wet hair, and the like. Take Garty with some irons in case you need to arrest anyone. Shoot anyone who makes trouble.”
Ganse said, “I’ll take several men with me.”
“No, I want enough officers aft at all times to secure our safe passage and we don’t know who we can trust in the crew. It would be foolish to risk more men on the search. Don’t wait to dress or the culprit will have hidden the evidence.” Mackenzie returned to his cabin.
Ganse felt that the ones doing the search might have a different opinion about how foolish it was.
CHAPTER 16
The night was very dark but drops of cold sea spray formed tiny comets as they flew past the dim whale oil lantern. Ganse shivered in his soaked underwear. The captain could have given them time to get dressed, he thought.
He dreaded having to drop through the hatch to the berth deck. They would be surrounded by one-hundred men and boys whose loyalty was now in doubt. He looked at Perry and said, “Is your pistol loaded? Are you ready?”
Perry said, “Yes, I’m ready as soon as Garty gets here with the irons. I told him to arm himself and load extra pistols so we’ll each have two.”
While waiting on Garty, Ganse lifted a lit lantern from a bracket on the mast and Perry picked up another one that was not lit. They would not be able to light it until they were protected from the wind and spray.
Garty climbed out of the wardroom hatch. He had put on his trousers and was loaded down with a pistol in each hand, two under his belt, and irons draped over his muscular shoulders. Ganse and Perry carried their pistols in their hands for they would surely have lost pistols, underwear, and their dignity, if they tried to stick them in the waist of their underwear. A pistol in each hand proved awkward because one hand had to hold both the pistol and the lantern.
Ganse wondered if the pistols would fire if needed because they were wet from the salt spray. This risk they would have to take. He inhaled and said, with the enthusiasm of a lamb being led to slaughter, “Let’s go.” Ganse started down the ladder to the berth deck. Perry and Garty followed close behind.
Three lanterns hanging on beams down the center of the berth deck were woefully endowed for penetrating the dense black shadows on either side of the aisle. About six boys, in their underclothes, were standing in the aisle discussing the shooting incident that had just occurred on the spar deck, but the majority of them had climbed back into their hammocks.
Perry pulled a dry straw from a container nailed to the mainmast. He lit it from Ganse’s lantern and used it to light his lantern.
Someone called, “Attention!” and all conversation ceased. The Somers ignored the command. Tortured timbers groaned long and low like a nagging wife as the brigantine rolled over the crest of a swell, then they dwindled to silence for a moment before gradually beginning their anguished complaints all over again. Muffled sounds of rushing sea could be heard at measured intervals when swells pressed against the hull. A few sound sleepers never woke during the shooting and even slept through the call for attention. Their scattered groans and snoring enhanced the sounds of the Somers and th
e ocean.
Ganse ordered, “Every man lay to and stand by your hammock.”
First, moans and grumbling, then thumping and cursing as the half-awake, half-dressed boys’ bare feet hit the deck. Many hammocks were behind other hammocks and the most vocal discontent oozed from the safety of the darkest shadows. It was obvious that individual inspection would be risky, if not impossible, with so many men, hammocks, and ditty bags packed into this human pit, now immersed in cryptic blackness. Ganse, Perry, and Garty stooped a little to avoid bumping their heads on overhead beams.
Ganse asked the nearest boy if he had seen anyone run through the berth deck right after the shooting, and got the expected answer, “No sir.” He felt embarrassed to ask others since he knew he could ask a hundred boys and the answer would be the same every time.
He bent over, holding the lantern near the deck, to search for drops of blood. If any were there it would surely have already blended with the dirty pitch-saturated deck planks and would never be visible using his dim lantern. The Somers lurched and heeled severely and walking straight was difficult. Ganse shuffled along the moonless path through a forest of bare feet sprouting legs that swayed with ship movements as tree saplings in a gusty wind. The crews’ silence weirdly intensified the creaking timbers conversing privately among themselves.
Still stooped over, Ganse reached the galley at the fore end of the berth deck. He took a quick step to maintain his balance, causing him to press into a large object Cromwell’s hairy belly. Startled, he raised his lantern and backed away a step. The lantern’s weak light illuminated only Cromwell’s upper body, the background was blackness itself. By chance the pistol in Ganse’s lantern hand was aimed at Cromwell’s face. Cromwell was standing nearly erect with his head up between two beams. Eyes glistening in the lantern light, his left arm was across his chest and his ham sized right arm ended with a gnarled hand pulling on his woolly chin. Flickering light reflected on amused lips. Ganse’s mind raced for words but found none. Cromwell locked his gaze on Ganse until Ganse abruptly turned and headed for the ladder to the spar deck. As he passed Perry and Garty, he said, “Dismiss the men. We’ll never find anything in all this.”