“Please,” he asked, “what’s happening?”
The sailor looked at him with sympathy. He looked around and lowered his voice.
“Look mate, they’re going to drag you under the ship. Take a really deep breath beforehand.” He paused. “Here,” he picked up a plank of wood and placed it under Peter’s tattered shirt, “this will help.”
He quickly stepped back as the Lieutenant returned.
“Right, let’s get on with it.”
Aeolus and Farren hurriedly looked around to see if they could do something to help, but there were too many eyes watching them and a lot of muskets. Peter was roughly shoved near the edge of the ship. Two sailors went over to the pulley and stood with their back to Peter and started heaving the rope through the pulley. This loosened the rope leading to his wrists, but tugged at his ankles so hard that he fell on the deck, cutting his lip.
The Lieutenant laughed.
“Sea’s that way, lad.”
He picked up Peter and threw him over the edge.
PPLUUSH!
The water smacked his body and he was momentarily disorientated with all of the bubbles. The impact almost knocked all of the air from his lungs. The ropes were temporarily slack but he was in no position to take advantage, his ankles and wrists being too tightly bound. He struggled to see anything.
Suddenly his legs were pulled visciously through the water, his arms and body flapping in their wake. He could see the underbelly of the large man-of-war looming and he could just make out the hundreds of sharp, jagged barnacles that were attached to it before he slammed into the ship.
His body was being ripped along the barnacles. Even with the wood under his tunic, the pain was excruciating and, as he screamed in agony, the water rushed in his mouth. He could feel the flesh being torn from his legs and he tried to lean his head back, but it kept being slammed into the hull. Peter was rapidly running out of breath and he could feel the water starting to rush into his lungs.
PHMP!
His face was smacked into the ship and everything went black.
...
Up on deck Farren and Aeolus watched the sailors heaving on the pulley and tried not to imagine the horrors that Peter must be experiencing. They nervously waited to see whether he would survive.
A couple of sailors were leaning over the edge.
“Here he comes, Lieutenant”
Peter was half dragged, half hauled by the sailors over the edge by his ankles and was dumped on the deck. His face had been mashed to a bloody pulp. His clothes were in tatters. Peter’s chest was scratched but relatively unscathed – the board of wood doing its duty before falling away into the sea. His legs had gouges all over them and he was clearly unconscious.
Farren struggled against the three sailors who were holding him, but to no avail. They did not notice the Admiral stroll over.
“Right, someone take him to the doctor. See if he’ll live. Not that it matters. And hurry up and get this blood mopped off my deck.”
Two sailors lifted Peter’s body and started to carry it away.
“Hold on,” the Admiral called.
He walked over and examined the wounds on the body more closely.
“I say. What’s going on here? James!!”
The Lieutenant rushed over, “Sir?”
“Look at the boy’s chest, by jove. There’s barely a scratch on it.”
“Perhaps he was lucky sir,” James suggested.
“Lucky, my stripes. Someone has helped him. Get me the sailors who tied him.”
The three sailors came forth and stood, heads bowed, in front of the Admiral.
“Right. One of you three helped the boy. Tell me now and I won’t have to punish all three of you. Who was it?” The Admiral paced back and forth, hands behind his back, fuming.
The sailor who assisted Peter meekly put his hand up.
“Mutinous dog!” yelled the Admiral and punched the sailor in the face, who promptly fell to the deck.
The Admiral spun on his heel and walked away from the sailor.
“Hang him from the yardarm. I will not have mutiny on my ship!” he yelled.
He walked over to where Farren and Aeolus were quivering.
“Stand,” he said and both boys jumped to their feet.
“Now all I need from you is the location of your crew, the crew of the Nemesis.”
Farren’s voice trembled as he spoke, “S-sir. I would have told you before. They were heading in a south-westerly direction when we left them.”
The Admiral put his arm around Farren. “Lad, I know you would have,” his voice purred, “but where’s the fun in that?”
“Right. Helmsman.”
“Sir.”
“Set a south-westerly course.”
“Yes, sir,” the man replied and began to turn the giant wheel.
“James, why is that scoundrel not swinging from the yardarm yet?”
“I was waiting for you, sir.”
“No need. Just kill him and let’s get on with the day,” the Admiral replied.
One of the sailors guarding the boys piped up. “Sir, what do you want us to do with these two?”
The Admiral stopped. “Well, unless they have anything else useful to give us then I guess they can swing too.”
Farren and Aeolus looked at each other in shock.
The sailors reached for the boys.
“Wait,” Aeolus said.
“The Nemesis was chasing us because we stole a piece of parchment from them. It’s of no use to us but, in your wisdom, you may find a purpose for it.”
Farren looked at Aeolus in horror as the Admiral’s eyes gleamed.
“Parchment you say? Well, let’s see it.”
Farren glared as he reached into the depths of his tunic and removed the parchment. The time spent in the sea had weathered it, but it was still legible. He opened it up and held it out for the Admiral. Aeolus peered as closely as he dared.
The Admiral ripped it from Farren’s hand and voraciously pored over it.
“Hmm, and you stole this you say?”
“Yes,” said Aeolus, “we had been press-ganged onto the ship and I found it.”
The Admiral eyed him. Aeolus stared back unflinchingly.
“You are a canny one. You boys may have a use after all. James, put them to work. But make sure it’s under strict supervision.”
“Yes, sir!” The Lieutenant took the boys away.
The sailor’s lifeless body swung from the yardarm in the breeze.
...
Meanwhile below decks, Peter was dumped unceremoniously on the table by the two sailors who nodded at the man in the room and left, closing the door behind them.
The doctor leant over and began to examine Peter’s wounds. He grabbed great handfuls of salt and poured them over his body. He rolled him over and did the same on the other side. The doctor then picked up a needle and thread and began to close some of the more gaping wounds. Thankfully for Peter, he remained unconscious.
...
Lieutenant James Barnsworth glared at the two boys.
“Look,” he said. “Actually look at him.” He pointed at the sailor’s corpse dangling from the yardarm above them.
“He was a good friend, one of us. And now, thanks to you two, he’s dead. So whilst the Admiral wants you alive, you’ll live. But I’m going to make sure that it will be a living nightmare. Mark my words, soon as either of you step out of line, I’ll slit your throat myself. We clear?”
“Sir,” Farren and Aeolus meekly replied.
“Right then. You two can go and man the bilge pumps and then clean. John.”
A well-built sailor came over.
“Yes, sir.”
“Guard them. If they try anything, kill them.”
“Sir.”
John led the boys towards a set of stairs that were located between two of the cannons. As they went below deck, Farren’s natural curiosity got the better of him.
“What’s tha
t for?” He pointed to where a man was tending a pot above a fire. A large funnel hung above the pot and went into the roof above.
The sailor just looked at him.
“It’s the stove. The smoke goes up the funnel, and out of the ship. Now be quiet or we’ll get in trouble,” Aeolus snapped.
“I was just asking,” Farren said defiantly.
As they moved further through the bowels of the ship, the stench gradually began to deteriorate. There was barely any light to help them find their way through the narrow passages and Farren was overwhelmed by the sheer number of cannons standing idle and people bustling back and forth or simply resting in whatever crevice they could find.
Finally, they reached the lower depths of the ship
The sailor cleared his throat. “Use the buckets to get the water up to the next level and empty them out the porthole. Then you will need to scrub the whole area. Now, I have better things to do than babysit you two, but there are several people upstairs so don’t try anything funny.” With that, he turned and left them.
Farren turned to Aeolus and pushed him. Aeolus staggered back and fell into the murky, putrid water that sloshed around their ankles.
“Why?” Farren yelled, “Why did you betray us?”
Aeolus stayed in the water. “I didn’t Farren. What choice did I have? The Admiral would have killed the two of us and you know it. We were of no use to him. That parchment saved our lives.”
Farren snorted, “Maybe so, but it wasn’t yours to give.”
“Yeh, you’re right. But look, I heard you and your brother talking about it. It didn’t interest me, but if the pirates that the Admiral was chasing were interested in it, then it stood to reason that he would be. And at that stage we needed something to save our skins. I am sorry that it was your parchment, I really am. But aren’t you better off without it? All it seems to do is attract trouble,” Aeolus reasoned.
Farren kicked the water in frustration.
“Look, what you are saying makes sense. But that doesn’t stop me being annoyed,” he said.
“I understand. I would be too. But at least we are alive – and if it wasn’t for that parchment, we wouldn’t be.” Aeolus dragged himself out of the water. “Let’s just get this job done and hope your brother pulls through ok.”
They dragged the large buckets through the water and choked on the stench of rotting food and human waste. They grunted as they hefted the buckets up the stairs and then poured the contents out of the porthole.
“This is going to take forever,” complained Farren as every muscle in his body screamed in protest.
As they lugged the heavy buckets up the stairs, and the foul liquid sloshed all over them, the boys noticed that, although there were sailors bustling about on the lower deck, no one really paid them much attention.
“Do you think we should try and find Peter?” whispered Farren, as they loaded their umpteenth bucket.
“I think we are lucky not to be killed already. We don’t want to push our luck any further than we need to. Besides, even if you found him, what are you going to do? Mount a big escape from a Navy man-of-war and swim past the fleet to freedom?” Aeolus replied.
“No,” Farren flushed, “of course not. I just thought that we’re not being watched much, so should we not take advantage of it?”
“I suppose if we had almost finished, we could have a look around and just say we were looking for the Lieutenant to find out our next orders. If we left now and were caught we don’t really have a good excuse. I reckon we could have this done in the next three hours.”
“Alright, let’s finish it and find Peter.” He saw Aeolus’ look. “Just to check he’s ok,” he reassured him.
Chapter 8
Behind the Door
After four hours of mindless tedium, broken only by the occasional stop to vomit and gasp for air, the boys had managed to remove the majority of the disgusting sludge from the underbelly of the ship.
“Right,” said Farren, “which way do you think we should go?”
“Let’s head back the same way we came down. We should try and look like we belong … you know, act confident,” replied Aeolus.
They climbed up the rickety stairs onto the next level. There were few crewmembers here and it seemed to be used more for storage judging by the number of wooden chests, hessian bags overflowing with stale biscuits and giant kegs filled with vinegar that was supposed to be wine. Aeolus kicked a large rat out of his way and made his way up the staircase to the next level.
Farren’s back was aching from having to stoop for so long to avoid banging his head on the low beams, but the thought of his brother made the pain easier to bare. He walked along the narrow corridor, trying to avoid bumping the hammocks that were swinging in time with the ship. He glanced at some sailors who looked like they were trying to chisel dripping cloth into the ship.
“What are they doing?” he whispered to Aeolus.
“Caulking,” he replied, “The hemp has been soaked in tar and they use the mallet and chisel to close the hole in the wood. The pitch there,” he pointed at a metal bucket that had steam rising from it, “is then used to seal it.”
The sailors continued to work, with barely a glance at the boys. Ahead, they noticed two men slowly stitching a sail
“ … couldn’t work for a privateer, I don’t know,” one said to his companion.
“C’mon John, it’s not that bad,” replied the other.
“Not that bad? Paul, this voyage must be affecting your mind. We get paid less than a fisherman with no chance of extra money, we get a regular taste of the cat whenever the Admiral feels like it, the meat’s ten years old and all the wine’s gone sour already! What’s to like?”
“Well …,” he mused, “the times ashore are great!”
Both men laughed.
“You can say that again.”
Farren and Aeolus walked past them and climbed up the rotting stair boards to the next level. Here they noticed a lot more rooms leading off the main corridor. A cabin boy stopped them.
“Hey. I haven’t seen you two before.”
“Yeh,” said Aeolus, “We were just looking for the Lieutenant for our next orders.”
The cabin boy watched them.
“You’re two of those pirates we picked up off that island, aren’t you?”
Farren smiled. “We’re not pirates mate. We were on a merchant ship that was attacked by pirates. We were shipwrecked and then you guys picked us up.”
The boy looked at them wide-eyed, “Is it true that it was the Nemesis?”
“Yeh,” replied Aeolus, “you’re supposed to be chasing her. Any chance you’ll catch her?”
The boy laughed, “It would take the Spirit to catch that ship.”
Aeolus smiled, “I know what you mean.”
“What’s the Spirit?” Farren asked.
Aeolus looked surprised. “I keep forgetting you’re a landlubber. I thought everyone had heard of it. Legend had it that the Navy built this superfast ship, the Spirit to catch all the pirates and the Spanish treasure galleons, of course.”
“So what happened to it?”
“It’s just a legend, rumour. Just like they say the captain of the Nemesis is a demon with a hole in his chest,” replied Aeolus.
“I heard that he was a woman,” said the cabin boy.
They all laughed. “See,” said Aeolus, “there’s not much to do aboard ship but trade rumours.”
“So do you like working on this ship?” asked Farren. Aeolus rolled his eyes.
The cabin boy lowered his voice, “The Admiral’s a vicious master – he punishes people for doing nothing. Just like your friend. I saw what the Admiral did. It was terrible. Actually, he’s on this level you know.”
“What? Where?” Farren could barely contain his eagerness.
“In the infirmary over there,” the boy pointed four doors down the corridor. “But just be careful because the Admiral’s quarters are just down the end.”
“Thanks,” said Aeolus, “but why are you helping us?”
The cabin boy smiled. “I can tell you’ve never worked for the Navy,” he said and he turned and walked off.
Farren and Aeolus walked up to the infirmary door and immediately were hit by the stench of vinegar and rotting flesh. They reluctantly knocked and a voice within told them to enter.
...
The infirmary was a small cramped room with four cots along the walls. In the centre was a long table which was covered in dark stains. Jagged saws, needles and knives decorated the room. A small cabinet in the wall had jars containing maggots, leeches and what looked like body parts. One of the cots had a sailor lying face down. His back was a mashed up pulp. The doctor was leaning over the other cot. He stood up and turned and the boys realised that the cot contained Peter. They rushed over only to be stopped by the doctor.
“Hold on boys,” the elderly man said, “he’s not fully healed yet, just be gentle.”
They walked over and could barely recognise him. There were large scars over his face and body and he was adorned with large purple and mauve bruises. There were swellings all over him and maggots writhed around some of the larger wounds on his body.
“What are they for?” asked Farren.
“The maggots will help eat the dead flesh and keep the wound clean.”
“Will he be ok?” Aeolus was shocked at the state of Peter’s injuries.
“Your friend’s lucky to be alive – most don’t survive a keel-hauling. But he’s young and strong so he has a good chance. But I doubt he’ll be out of the infirmary before the next two days.” The doctor smiled at the two young men as he walked over to the other sailor. “Which is more than I can say for Patrick here.”
“Why, what happened to him?” Farren tried hard to look away from the man’s horrific injuries.
“The cat, of course. The Admiral was in one of his moods. Patrick’s had a hundred lashes. He’s fighting hard but it’s only a matter of time.” The doctor paused. “Look, you boys are taking a risk coming here. If the Lieutenant or the Admiral found you, you might end up like Patrick here. Your friend will be fine. Wait two days and hopefully he’ll be up and able to move around.”
Treasure Lost Page 6