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The Fire Within

Page 55

by Samuel T Clayton


  ‘This here is my friend, a man I consider my brother. Many years ago, he lost his family to slavers. Some of them were your fellow countrymen. They considered his people, a mighty Chewa tribe, to be inferior to their own. As a child, he watched those slavers torture and murder his father and mother. Not a night goes by when this man doesn’t say a prayer to his ancestors to take care of his parents and to watch over his brothers and sisters whom he hasn’t seen since childhood.’ Tristan took Jabari’s massive black hand and lifted it in the air. ‘Tell me, when we are cut, do we not feel the same pain? Do we not bleed the same colour blood? And when we die, do our people not mourn our deaths?’ He moved on to Finn. ‘This here is my friend, another man I consider my brother. Countless of his Irish ancestors were sold into slavery. Why? Because they were deemed mongrels by my British people! Because they dared to stand up for their rights, their freedom, and what they believe in. If his family hadn’t fled in time, God only knows the doom that would’ve befallen them.’ Tristan waited patiently while Silva spoke vehemently. The man expressed every word, making sure his countrymen got the essence of what his captain was saying, in word and context.

  ‘No man on this earth should suffer such a fate, so on this fine evening, I ask of you, if you could fight for those who don’t have a voice, for those whose constant pleas fall on deaf ears, would you do it? Would you stand with me and fight the barbarians, so that those poor souls on that French ship, who were killed or burnt to death by their captors, and your Captain Francesco Silveira, who was senselessly murdered along with his wife, didn’t die in vain?’

  He waited for Silva to finish relaying the message. ‘This will be the Mary’s journey. Her new course has been plotted. There may be some of you who share the slavers’ view, and I tell you now, for you there’s no place on this ship. Some of you may say “This isn’t your war,” and I’d respect that. Any man who does not wish to be part of this venture will have the opportunity to leave when we arrive in Table Bay. You will not be ridiculed, your decision not frowned upon, and ‘tis a choice I give to every man on this ship, including the five men I’ve brought with me. Every single one of you will have to look in his own heart and decide whether this is his calling, for trade will no longer be your business. No, you will now be in the business of freeing slaves. The business of saving lives.’

  Tristan stepped back onto his crate and looked over the crew of the Mary. A group of wide-eyed sailors gazed back at him upon hearing Silva’s words.

  ‘Gentlemen, for those who decide to stay, I do not promise you riches. Instead, I give you the opportunity to save lives. For your service, you will be paid your normal wage, the same amount you would’ve earned under Captain Silveira. Any bounty from a captured ship will be distributed according to rank. You will earn the eternal gratitude of countless. For every foe we make, we will gain a myriad of friends, consorts who will no doubt over time sponsor this new venture and join our efforts. That I can promise you.

  ‘That is all.’ As Tristan got down and the men slowly disbanded to go about their normal routines, the doctor approached him.

  ‘Great speech, lad! Unnerving to some, but still, well put. No doubt a few souls will be searched tonight, including my own, but then I’ve been saving lives all my life, so perhaps my decision will not trouble me that much.’

  Tristan’s benevolent smile said it all. At least I have one ally, or better yet, a surgeon.

  For evening dinner, apart from the usual company of Portuguese officers and his crew, Tristan had also summoned a few men whom he deemed trustworthy beyond doubt. The group of men rose to their feet when Isabella entered the room, and gallantry quickly became the unspoken order of the night as one man tried to outshine the other. Although her demeanour was rather reserved, the typically rowdy bunch welcomed her beautiful company. However, very few noticed that their chivalry was lost on the woman, who was present in body but not in mind.

  In the officer’s mess around the table, they sat and enjoyed their three-course dinner that was served with delicious Portuguese wine. Small talk made up the majority of conversation throughout the evening with everyone avoiding the unusual happenings that had transpired earlier in the day. Not long after the meal had finished, Isabella retired for the night, and after Tristan had escorted her back to the cabin, the cook served the extra rations of rum that their captain had promised them. As the men indulged in the fiery liquid together with some fine tobacco, which quickly engulfed the room, Tristan took his chance. He silenced them, stood up and raised his glass.

  ‘To Mr and Mrs Francesco Silveira, two precious lives taken so undeservedly. May they rest in peace.’

  The group jumped to their feet and raised their glasses. ‘Hear! Hear!’

  After they all had a drink, Tristan signalled for them to take a seat. ‘Please sit down.’ He gripped the top of his chair and leaned in closer so that the candles on the table lit his face. ‘What I have said today has no doubt come as a surprise to most of you. As officers of this ship, I ask that you keep an open mind and answer any questions from your men as I would yours, not based on your own beliefs but in a manner that befits an officer. Impartiality, gentlemen. Each man on this ship has to make his own choice, and there’s no doubt in my mind that some will struggle with that decision.’ Tristan walked over to his desk that had been moved to the corner and retrieved a paper. ‘Nevertheless, with the new venture in mind, and not wanting to waste time, I am this evening confirming existing roles and designating new ones, which is the real reason why the old hands are seeing some fresh faces around the table tonight. The last three days made for trying times and through it all, some of you have already found your calling, or perhaps circumstances have forced your hand, or perhaps I’ve asked you to act in a certain role. Nonetheless, a ship cannot run in an orderly fashion without a proper command in place, so irrespective of whether you decide to join the Mary on her new endeavour or not, every officer named here tonight will receive his papers in the morning and from then onwards, I expect you all to act accordingly.’

  ‘Aye, sir.’ Every man around the table answered him.

  Tristan took a big gulp of rum to wet his throat properly. ‘Mr Silva, quartermaster and navigator. Mr Purvis, surgeon. Mr Delgado, bosun. And Mr Delgado, working quarterdeck and amidships, you can appoint two more mates of your liking and pick the rest of your crew.’ The grey-haired fella nodded. ‘Mr Tayler, bosun, working quarterdeck and bowsprit. Mr Matondo, bosun’s mate to Mr Tayler. And Mr Tayler, the same goes for you. Choose your gang wisely.’ Tristan put the paper aside for a moment. ‘Mr Delgado and Mr Tayler, I want to commend you both in front of this group for how your men have handled the ship today. You have set the bar high, gentlemen, and I think the ship runs well under your guidance. I have no intention of changing that, unless you force my hand, of course. Well done, to both of you.’ Delgado and Tayler looked at each from across the table, each man with a contented grin, shared through mutual respect. The nodding heads of the other officers confirmed the latter and cheers of “Hear! Hear!” rang out, followed by the obligatory toast.

  Tristan quieted them once more. ‘Mr Hanlon, master-at-arms. Mr Hanlon, ask Mr Silva to introduce you to the Portuguese gun captain and spend some time with him over the next few weeks. Find out what he needs from you. You have a lot to learn from each other because you are both experts in your own right.’ Tristan turned to his right, facing his old friend. ‘Mr Sullivan, you take over from Mr Hanlon as ship’s clerk and purser, and continue your naval studies under Mr Silva.’ Both men nodded, one grinning, the other slightly more reserved. ‘Mr Jabari, midshipman, coxswain and when needed, captain’s assistant.’ It took another two minutes for Tristan to finish his list and after he had taken up his chair once more, he thirstily gulped down the last drop of rum from his cup.

  ‘Gentlemen, as you have already gathered, this is a small and equitable number of officers. We cannot accept the crew to understand the notion of equality if we don’t im
plement such a system on this ship. But, that doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate slackness or disobedience from anyone.’ Tristan’s last words were cold, almost emotionless, and he patiently waited for them to sink in and take effect.

  ‘Now the most urgent matter at hand is the recruitment of another thirty souls to fill this ship for there’s much work to be done. Keep your eyes and ears open when we reach Table Bay. I too will be searching for new mariners, and I need your help to make sure that they have either the skill or the desire to be on this ship. Blessed are we if they have both.’ It was late. Tristan still had a long night ahead with many papers to write. ‘That’s all, gentlemen. I bid you goodnight and Godspeed to us all.’

  ‘Aye, sir.’ They stood up and slowly the mess emptied as officers made their way to their quarters, while sailors, still to receive their official papers, made their way down to the crew’s quarters, their hearts glowing and their minds racing.

  Three men remained behind. Ever the cautious one, Purvis approached Tristan and enquired about a possible mutiny, his usually impeccable timing nullified by the evening’s drink. Before Tristan could answer, Silva, realising that the doctor’s question had related to his fellow countrymen, jumped in. ‘There will be no mutiny, sir.’ His answer was definitive. ‘Not from my men. You’re not forcing them to do something against their will. And they loved Captain Silveira dearly. Many of them have no life back in Portugal. Africa has been their home. The sea and this ship are pretty much all they know, and that’s good enough for most of them. The other officers and I will do our utmost to make them understand why this next journey in all of our lives is a necessary one, not just to fulfil the legacy of Francesco Silveira, but to define who we are, and to leave our mark on this world.’

  ‘Quaintly put, Mr Silva, quaintly put. And for your loyalty and honesty, you shall have my everlasting gratitude.’ Turning to Purvis, Tristan asked, ‘Does that put your mind at ease, doc?’

  ‘Very much so, sir.’

  ‘Good. Then we’ll both have a peaceful sleep tonight.’

  The two men took their leave, and Jabari closed the door behind them. For the better part of the evening, the big African had felt out of place among the officers, and the extra responsibility that Tristan had heaped on his shoulders felt even heavier than he had anticipated. What Jabari did not know was that Tristan had already anticipated and sensed the African’s uneasiness, straight through the man’s usually steady and composed front of reticence.

  ‘What do you need me to do, Nyegere? You know I’m no officer.'

  ‘You’ll always be a warrior at heart, my friend, but your actions speak louder than words, and that’s what a true leader does. The Old Man told me that. A leader inspires those around them, and there be no better person qualified on this ship than the one standing in front of me right now. I’ve seen how those sailors look at you, look up to you. Perhaps you take after your father after all. He was a great warrior and chief of hundreds, and now his son has a chance to follow in his footsteps. Perhaps one day even captain his own ship?’

  Jabari laughed. ‘Nyegere, your tricks of the mind aren’t lost on me, and neither are your words. If you carry on like this, I fear you’ll become an old man long before I do, for surely your wisdom will turn your hair white and put wrinkles in your skin before you reach the proper age.’

  ‘That’s exactly why I need you. Who else can challenge my decisions or give such a frank and honest opinion? You, Jabari, know me better than anyone, so I’m asking you as a friend, not as the captain of this ship.’

  ‘Then I shall do what your paper asks of me, and make you and my father proud.’ Jabari turned and headed for the cabin door but then stopped dead in his tracks. ‘Tell me one thing, Nyegere, what exactly are we?’

  With a puzzled look on his face, Tristan replied, ‘What are we? What do you mean? Men, sailors. I’m sorry, but you’ve lost me, my friend.’

  ‘In the eyes of this world, what are we? What will this ship be known for? What will captains think when they see our flags, our ship’s name through their spyglasses? We are going to plunder ships and rob them of their cargo. They have a word for it. Piracy. That’s what pirates do, ain’t it? So, are we pirates now?’

  Tristan suddenly found himself wanting, ‘I honestly don’t know.’

  ‘One day, you might want to return to England, but a pirate has no place in a civilised world, no matter what noble cause he professedly pursued. They will hang you for sure. Do you want to be lashed to a post and washed three times by the tide before they bury your bloated body in an unmarked grave? Or even worse, let them tar and string you up in a cage for all to see, with your mother only able to watch from the shadows?’

  ‘Of course not!’

  ‘Well, you need to think about that. And be very careful what you tell the crew, for if they realise they might end up on the gallows, you will indeed face a mutiny, no matter what assurances Silva has given you.’

  Tristan slumped down on his chair and had a good long think. Suddenly his eyes lit up. ‘I got it. We need a legitimate sponsor. Someone empathetic to our cause. Someone with enough influence. Someone who could endorse us to become…to become privateers. That’s it! Privateers can act on behalf of the king, without any retribution. You just need to find the right person and get the required papers.’ He gave Jabari a triumphant look.

  ‘Aye. You make it sound easy.’ Jabari scratched his head. ‘That might work. I suggest you start with your people, the British. Of course, we will have to look the other way whenever we encounter any slave ships of theirs.’

  ‘I will give it some thought. In the meantime, keep this to yourself and if you hear or sense any discord, inform me immediately. I will speak with Silva privately and inform him of our plans.’ Tristan jumped up and slapped his mate on the side of his shoulder as a token of appreciation. ‘You’re a good man, Jabari.’

  With a smile as bright as the midday sun, the African left and Tristan suddenly found himself alone at last. As he recalled the day’s events and the men’s reactions to his speech, he hoped that he had inspired them enough to consider his proposal. The Old Man spoke to him in these times of solitude and now more than ever, his words rang as true as a solid gold coin. “Give a sailor a sense of belonging and a sense of worth, and a lot of problems would either not happen or take care of themselves, and by that I mean, the senior shipmen would step in and bring any would-be mutineer back in line. Nevertheless, there’s never a reason to get complacent, for you never know what lies beyond the next swell.”

  It was around midnight when Tristan quietly entered his cabin. Isabella’s breathing was deep and regular, and lying there sleeping, her peaceful exterior hid the inner turmoil that had been eating away at her for the last couple of days.

  Every night her mood had become darker, their conversations shorter, the aloofness greater. She would not have joined them for dinner had he not asked. He had witnessed her sullen face at the dinner table. Like her conversations, her eyes were hollow, unfathomable pits, the type in which a man can lose himself for all the wrong reasons, or lose his way, even his sanity, if he did not take care. Her malady haunted him constantly, and for someone who always had the right plan at the right time, he felt hopeless and helpless. He shook his head to try and get rid of the cankerous thoughts. Knowing that he could only shove them into a dark corner momentarily, he took his seat at the desk.

  After he had added more oil to the lantern and watched the wick burn with renewed vigour, he sat down, pulled close a pile of papers and started sharpening the quill. As he put pen to paper, he heard the bell ring aloft, signalling a change of the watch.

  It was late, and he still had many papers to write.

  Chapter 30

  ‘That, I fear Mr De Witt, is your problem. Surely some of your countrymen would be willing to part with a few? Have my eyes mistaken me when we sailed into the bay and were met by battery upon battery with exactly the type and calibre I’m looking for?’


  The tall, scrawny Dutchman scratched his privates in an undignified manner and silently condemned himself for agreeing to supply the blasted Englishman with all his needs. ‘But Mr Conway,’ he giggled nervously, feeling the young man’s eyes bore into his own, ‘surely we can conclude our business for the items that I’ve already supplied, and you can look elsewhere for these 8-pounder cannons?’

  ‘We had a deal, sir, need I remind you?’ Tristan raised his voice ever so slightly, causing a few of the merchant’s other customers to glance in their direction.

  ‘Errr…’

  ‘Mr De Witt, you came recommended by a man whom I hold in very high regard. Surely you do not want to disappoint both of us? And you’ve seen the contents of that small chest. If that was not tempting enough, then I’m afraid our business here is done, and as I recall correctly, that means I get to keep what you’ve already given me, and I don’t pay a penny. ‘Twas all or nothing, sir.’ Tristan could see the anguish unfold. He knew very well that it was the contents, and the contents only, safely locked away in Morgan’s little treasure chest which had made the merchant agree to what now undoubtedly seemed like an unjust and biased arrangement.

  ‘No! I haven’t forgotten, Mr Conway.’ The trader was scrambling. ‘It’s just…I’m afraid time has not been my ally.’ He signalled Tristan to come closer and whispered, ‘You see, Mr Conway, the purchase of six cannons, well, it’s a delicate matter that needs to be handled with the utmost care, for it might require certain people, very powerful people, Mr Conway, to let’s say, look the other way?’

  ‘What you’re saying is that you need more time?’

  De Witt nodded vigorously.

  ‘Another week?’

 

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