The Fire Within

by Samuel T Clayton

  Tristan gripped the hand on his knee, nodded a thank you and immediately regretted his action when a sharp pain shot up the back of his head. With a scratchy voice, which sounded more crow and less human, he asked, ‘Where are we?’

  ‘We’re in a village, Tresten, a Fang village near the coast. Based on what I’ve gathered from the villagers, we’re about eighty miles south of Douala.’ Jabari walked to the doorway and removed the cover so that Tristan could have a look outside.

  ‘Douala?’

  ‘Aye.’

  Douala. Tristan clearly remembered the sewer and the cockroaches that resided there. The place housed some of the worst slave traders around, the ones who would stop at nothing to quench their thirst for black gold. The horror stories Tristan and his men had heard from freed slaves had only fuelled their lust to put an end to as many of the bastards and their vessels of doom as they possibly could. And so they had done, with great success.

  ‘How long have I been like this?’

  ‘For three days, you dwelled that place where the living meets the dead. The “deep sleep”, as we call it,’ said Purvis. ‘Every day someone has been at your side, including that little boy. Then yesterday Jabari saw your left hand twitch, and we knew, or rather, we hoped that something good was about to happen.’

  ‘The Deliverance?’

  ‘All gone, lad.’ When Purvis uttered those words, Jabari grunted his disapproval. ‘What isn’t sitting at the bottom of the ocean, is now drifting all over the Atlantic.’

  ‘My crew?’

  He saw the two men looking at each other, their apprehensive faces like those who were about to flip a penny for the most unpleasant of tasks.

  ‘Perhaps now’s not the time to discuss such matters, lad,’ said Purvis. ‘You need to rest.’

  ‘My men, doc,’ insisted Tristan. He pushed his sore body upright and sat with a straight back, bracing himself for what he was about to hear.

  ‘Most of them have met the same fate as our ship.’ Purvis swallowed loudly. ‘Perhaps Jabari is the best to tell you, for he has witnessed more than me.’

  Jabari’s initial reluctance quickly dissipated as he recalled the events. He did not need a second invitation. ‘They were like sheep in the shambles, Tresten. They were slaughtered. There were no prisoners, no survivors, except for a handful of us.’

  ‘Tell me everything,’ said Tristan, gritting his teeth. He scratched the back of his head, flinching as one of his fingernails scraped the tender wound. ‘And what the hell happened to my head?’

  ‘You got hit in the head by a large chunk of wood from the mainmast. It knocked you over. Finn gave the order to abandon ship. After that it was every man for himself. The remaining crew managed to lower the only undamaged skiff. We were already in the water, so we swam to the empty boat and climbed in, but there were no paddles. While we drifted next to the Deliverance, the Yarmouth continued her bombardment on the starboard side.

  ‘They took no prisoners, Tresten. Some of the crew tried to surrender, but they were cut down by grapeshot and musket fire. That Englishman, Percival Bradford, was hell-bent on annihilation and must’ve driven his crew into a frenzy because even the dead who drifted behind the Deliverance had a few shots put into them for good measure. It was like the mist that morning had provided the obscurity they needed to erase all traces of the Deliverance’s existence.

  ‘After yet another salvo of cannon fire ripped into the Deliverance, we found some larger planks drifting next to us. We started paddling away from the carnage and into the thickening mist. It couldn’t have come back at a better time because our beloved ship soon started keeling over. We rowed as quickly as we could, further out to sea letting the mist swallow us, and then headed south before we turned back to shore. But for a long while, in the distance, the musket fire and screams carried on.’

  ‘What about Finn, Hanlon and the others?’

  ‘Finn made it to the boat. As did young Saddler, whose shoulder is healing just fine. The two of them, along with four men from the village, are scouting the route north. According to the villagers, there’s a sheltered estuary about a day’s walk from here. ‘Tis frequented by ships this time of year and if they find one, they’ll try to arrange passage for us out of this place. If they can lay their hands on a small boat, it can take us to one of the islands and better our chances of getting further north.’ Jabari paused briefly and after a deep breath carried on. ‘Hanlon died when the mainmast snapped. I’m sorry, Tresten, he was a dear friend to all of us.’

  Tristan bit his tongue and tasted blood but managed to keep his emotions in check.

  ‘Delgado drifted in on a barrel two days ago. He’s still recovering from his ordeal. The doctor dug a musket ball from his leg and reckons he’ll come around. Hard as flint stone, that man.’ Jabari purposefully gave Tristan some good news, for what was to follow played heavy on his own heart. ‘You know Tayler had his arm blown off, but somehow the bastard still made it onto the skiff. The tourniquet you fashioned gave him a few more hours, but we buried him not long after we’d made it to shore. The doctor said he’d already lost too much blood, Tresten.’ Jabari fumbled around in the leather pouch strapped to his waist and presented Tristan with something shiny. ‘He wanted you to have this.’

  Tristan took the ring off him and slowly twirled it between his fingers. It conjured up memories of the brawny red-haired man who had travelled such a long path with him, an unexpected friend who he would dearly miss. Wanting to pay the man the respect that was due, he asked hoarsely, ‘Where did you bury him?’

  ‘Not far from here. On a small grassy hilltop overlooking the sea.’

  Tristan grinned as he rubbed his forefinger across the shiny skull with its red beady eyes. ‘What a calm place to rest for such a rowdy soul.’ It brought a forced smile to both faces next to him. ‘I’m sure you both will receive a proper earbashing when you join him in the afterlife.’ The laughter was hurried and as empty as the room they were in.

  ‘Four of the Portuguese crew have also survived, Tresten. Three of them have headed south to a small Portuguese settlement. ‘Tis a long and dangerous journey, but the men were desperate. The fourth stayed behind. Alexandre D’Cruz is his name, the man whose life you saved in the tavern at Loanda. The barrelman? Remember him?’

  Tristan remembered D’Cruz well. A trustier crew member would be hard to find. ‘Aye. Of course, I do. Is that all that remained?’

  ’That’s not all. D’Cruz stayed in the crow’s nest when it came crashing down and jumped out at the last second. He ended up in the water where we picked him up.’ Jabari swallowed. His mouth felt dry. ‘Tresten, you know Hanlon couldn’t swim?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘D’Cruz told me that Hanlon had shot himself in the head as soon as he felt the mast give way. He wasn’t going to take a chance.’ Jabari did not want to burden his injured friend with unnecessary details, but Hanlon was a close friend to them all, and he felt compelled to share the circumstance of the man’s death.

  Tristan’s voice was surprisingly toneless when he asked once more, ‘Is that all that remained?’

  ‘Aye. ‘Tis all that we know of, Tresten. The rest have probably perished at the hands of that British bastard and his henchman.’

  ‘He’s right, lad.’ Purvis stood up slowly. ‘There was no way Bradford was going to let anyone live.’

  Tristan ran through their names in his head. So many men gone for good. They had all entrusted their lives to me. Then he recalled the cook’s words. ‘The cook mentioned that there were men in red coats on board Percy’s ship. They must have been protecting someone, perhaps a senior official. Did anybody else see or say something?’

  ‘Aye, Nyegere. I saw them too, about eight of them. They fought briefly, but after Hanlon had killed two of them, they disappeared.’

  ‘Good,’ said Tristan, feeling the need for fresh air as the walls suddenly started closing in on him. ‘Help me up!’

  ‘You’d be better o
ff resting some more, lad. Your body has taken some punishment and let’s face it, even though our minds tell us different sometimes, we’re certainly not invincible. Above all, you need food and drink first.’

  ‘Have I lost a leg or a foot, doc?’ Tristan shot back.

  ‘No,’ admitted Purvis.

  ‘Then for God’s sake, help me get up. I’m of no use lying here,’ said Tristan, urging them on as the walls started rushing towards him.

  ‘If that’s what you wa—‘

  ‘That’s exactly what I want!’

  Purvis slid an arm underneath Tristan’s armpit and told Jabari to do the same. ‘But hold on tight.’ Jabari frowned but did as he was told. ‘Gently now,’ said Purvis, as they slowly brought Tristan to his feet.

  Tristan felt unsteady on his legs, and as blood rushed from his head, the room around him started spinning. ‘Ah fuck,’ were his last words and he allowed the warm blackness to spill over him once more, embracing it, for he knew what was waiting for him on the other side.

  Two days later, the last of the Deliverance’s crew had dinner together for the first time since their arrival. Seated on fallen tree stumps around a large fire, they still relied on the hospitality of the people from the village, and it never disappointed. Fresh slabs of meat sizzled on top of hot coals while underneath the ashes, cassava roots, wrapped in leaves, cooked away happily. It was a pleasant evening, and the mood around the fire was a merrily reserved one. A calabash with frothing thick sour milk was passed from the one to the other, but it was the locally made mead that helped to ease the pain of what had happened and more importantly, to dream of better days to come.

  Tristan’s dream had equal amounts of both, for, at times, his thoughts were with the people of Embomma and how they had turned the village into a defendable fortress. He thought about the endless buzz of activity as Europeans prepared for the looming exodus. Only a few had stayed behind to take their chances against the French. He thought about the unlikely group that was travelling westwards on Mr Beeckman’s vessel. Isabella, Francesco, Nkó, Matondo, Cuthbert and Miguel. Heads would surely turn wherever the six of them might travel. It put a brief smile on his face. He thought about the island where their paths would one day reunite. Jamaica. It rhymed with her second name – Francesca. It was not that difficult to remember.

  He thought about the fate of vessels in their fleet that they had reached and warned in time, and the one they had not. He thought about that day, the men he had lost, what he could have done differently. He thought about the man who had coordinated the ruthless killing and allowed himself the gratification of letting his hatred grow. He thought about London, what still needed to be done, and the vast distance and unsurmountable difficulty that lay between here and where he really wanted to be. It is the one thing one does most while healing – you think.

  It was later that night when their stomachs were full, and their thirsts nearly quenched that Tristan rose and held up his mug. An immediate silence fell over the group. ‘Gentlemen,’ – he hesitated, but then decided to go with his heart – ‘in the past week we’ve all had time to reflect on what happened on that fateful day. And even though some of us wish we’d gone down with our beloved ship – God knows there were times when I had – fortunately, we are indeed the lucky ones. But, ‘tis not why I’ve raised this mug. No, I’ve raised this mug as a toast to the fallen…to those great men who have bravely given their lives for a cause they believed in right to the bitter end. We shall not dwell on that last cowardly act that claimed their lives, but we shall celebrate and remember them for who they were and the countless lives they’ve saved. Raise your glasses to the fallen men of the Deliverance. We shall mourn them, we shall cherish their memories, and we shall pray that, though they were cruelly taken from us, they will now have a peaceful rest.’

  Tristan’s words were still hanging in the air when the men chanted, ‘Hear! Hear!’ Mugs were refilled as quickly as they were emptied, and when the lot took to their seats once more, he was the only one who remained standing.

  ‘It doesn’t take a clever man’s wisdom to know that we find ourselves in somewhat of a pickle. There’s no Deliverance, and as for us remaining few, the world considers us no more, for we are indeed the walking dead.’ The unexpected lump in Tristan’s throat was a culmination of all that had come to bear in days past, and he did well to suppress it. ‘Every single one of you has come with me so far, so many miles, but as of this moment, I’m no longer your captain. There’s nothing I can offer you but my companionship. The riches that I had promised you are still waiting for us in the New World but how and when, I cannot say.

  ‘If you wish to join me on this uncertain journey, you are most welcome, but if you wish to part ways, please remember that you also have that choice, same as I’ve always given to every member of my crew, including the dearly departed,’ he said with every ounce of compassion in his body. There was no need to pretend as he laid bare his soul. ‘As for myself, I will make my way to London, by sail, hoof or foot and once there, I will settle my affairs, get my revenge and then I intend to find my way to the New World.’ The relief he felt after saying what needed to be said was tiring. When he sat back down, there was a pensive quietness around the fire as the men reflected on his words while taking thoughtful sips from their mugs.

  After Purvis had lit his pipe, he was the first to speak. ‘Lad, I think I speak for all of us when I say that we’re not going to desert you now. Where would we go? Take up residence here?’ As he motioned to the huts around them, a few of the men chuckled. ‘We still see you as our captain and ask of you to remain as such, at least until we arrive back in civilisation. Conceivably, then some of us might reconsider our options. I, for one, have lost years’ worth of discoveries and sketches when the Deliverance sank, and this includes some of my favourite work. The only remnants of my recent studies are in a small crate bound for Jamaica. But at least I’m still alive, and I intend to scour the New World like no scientist has ever done before. And as for revenge, do you honestly think we’re going to allow you that guilty pleasure all to yourself? They were our mates too. But right now, we need your help to deliver us from this peculiar predicament.’ When Purvis was done, not a single face around the fire contradicted what he had just said.

  Delgado, who had been quiet through most of the conversations, spoke next, and as usual, when the old grey-haired fox had something to say, everybody listened. ‘My home is sea. I go with you, sir.’ To his right, D’Cruz nodded emphatically, and next to him, young Saddler did the same while rubbing his shoulder that was on the mend.

  Tristan took a moment to take in the overwhelming support he had always experienced as captain of the Deliverance, not wavering in the slightest tonight. ‘It won’t be easy, lads, that I can promise you. Between us, there are…what…four pistols now useless, a cutlass and dagger each? Ahead lies some of the most barbaric roads and waters known to man. Money we have little of and as for how we get north, I don’t know. But at least I can be thankful for one thing – I’m not going at it alone, and for that, you have my deepest gratitude.’

  ‘’Tis not all that gloomy, Tresten.’

  ‘No?’

  Jabari shuffled his numb buttocks on the stump and finished picking his teeth with a small twig. ‘You lot may not have noticed, but the people of this village are no friends of the white man. You all should be outside the village walls right now, with greased poles up your backsides and crows pecking at your flesh. Yet these same people will help us get north and have kindly provided horses as well as men to protect us. In my hut, there’s even a bag of shells to buy whatever we need along the way.’

  ‘And they will give this to us? Horses, men and shells?’ enquired Tristan sceptically.

  ‘Of course. And I almost forgot. They have gunpowder and lead shot from a failed raid on their village. But this they will only part with in exchange for a pistol. A small price to pay, Tresten.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’
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  ‘The answer is very simple, Tresten. We have the most valuable item for trade in these parts.’ Jabari gleamed as he looked at the puzzled faces and struggled to hold his pose.

  ‘What? Out with it, man.’

  ‘They may not know your name, Tresten, but they do know the man called Nyegere. The white manumitter they pray for when the hatches close above their heads.’ As the realisation dawned, Jabari had them spellbound and revelled at the anticipation. ‘You remember the young boy who has not left your side since our arrival.’ Tristan nodded. The African boy was around him all the time since he had woken from his deep sleep. ‘It appears we have not just rescued his father, but his two uncles and many of his older cousins too. They were all part of a hunting party that was captured three years ago and put on an interloper that was heading for the Americas. A sea rover chased the slave ship south, straight into our path.’

  ‘I remember that. We fought off the pirates, rescued the slaves, and then we sunk the ship, a smallish brig – l’Espoir, if my memory serves me right.’ What a fucked-up name for a boat of that vocation, thought Tristan.

  Around the fire more of the men added their comments as fond recollections of a job well done returned to them, but those same memories also conjured up faces of fallen seamen, and they quickly brought the conviviality to an end.

  ‘l’Espoir. Hope. Aye, that very same one. We let the natives free, just south of here, and from there they made their way back home. Here.’ Jabari pointed to a dark shadow between two huts, not far from where they were sitting. It soon grew white teeth. ‘That young boy reminds me of myself when I was his age. There’s a glint in his eyes, uncorrupted by the unorderly things of this world and because of our actions that day, the boy’s life will take the journey he was destined for and not one that was forced upon him by nefarious men. Because of us, he can be a child first before he has to become a man.’

  ‘I would say this is cause for celebration,’ said Purvis, and the rest quickly joined him.