Mr. Mandrik cleared his throat, nervous to question the wisdom of his superior, and asked, “Cap'n, couldn’t ya just introduce dem to the cat-o-nine tails or tie dem to da mast? Keelhauling for dis might sit bad wit da crew.”
Gibbons shot his quartermaster a steely glare. “You heard me, Quartermaster. Execute my orders!”
The sentenced men shook with fear. Mr. Michael wailed like a woman as they were both tied to the keelhaul rope. The line ran from the starboard side deck, under the ship, and back up to the larboard side deck. The long rope was normally used to scrape barnacles off the keel. Now the two offending sodomites’ bodies would be used to clean the razor-sharp shells from the bottom of the ship. Mr. James hissed, "Bastards!" as Gibbons nodded to Mandrik.
With that cue, Mandrik bellowed, "Send them into the drink, men. Pull them down!"
A group of sailors pulled hard from the larboard side and the two condemned lovers flew off the deck, over the side and under the ship. A loud thumping of kicking could be heard on the ship’s hull. The sound made Patrick shudder. After a few seconds, the two men emerged on the starboard side drenched in salt water, gasping for air and screaming in pain.
“Quartermaster, that was too fast," the captain smiled maliciously. "Have your men slow it down this time!”
Mandrik swallowed hard and nodded to his captain that he understood. His voice cracked as he barked the command, "You heard the cap'n, boys. Slower." The torture procedure was then reversed pulling James and Michael over the side and into the sea. The men pulling the ropes pulled slower this time, drowning and dragging Michael and James across the sharp barnacle shells attach to the belly of the ship.
When they were finally pulled from the water, over the rail and back on the deck of the Robin, the clothes of the two men were blood soaked. They were both coughing up water and Patrick cringed at the sound of two men whimpering like children. Once untied from the rope, both James and Michael doubled over, holding the deep lacerations, futilely trying to stop the bleeding. The crew was silent.
“I am not completely heartless," Gibbons explained with a sadistic delight. "See to their wounds. Then tie them each to a barrel and set them a drift. If you wait a few hours, the tide will be moving towards the shore and they might even be lucky enough to drift into land.” The two howling men were dragged to the surgeon’s quarters, leaving a line of crimson soaking into the deck. A young crewman ran over to quickly mop up the trail.
The excitement of landing had somehow vanished for Patrick. He just wanted to drift to his station, make his himself busy with work and forget the horror he just witnessed when Mandrik reminded, “Hold on, lads. The cap’n wants more words wit yas.”
The captain rubbed his hands, as if wiping away the dirty business he just had overseen, and spoke, “You five will be sold as indentured servants, work hard and take this opportunity to learn a craft. You will be set free in just five short years.”
Shamus was confused. “I thought I just heard your kook-sookin’ mouth say slavery was forbade.”
The captain replied, “Ay fine sir, you are not slaves since one day, you will be free. Until then, you will get living quarters, food, a small salary and even a little time to enjoy yourselves in the town in exchange for your labor. But you will not be allowed to court women or start a family until your contract is finished." The captain paused to give his next words greater gravity, "Let me explain the consequences, gentlemen. I expect to get top gold for you five and you want to make sure that happens. If you do not sell, you will spend the rest of your days doing dog's work on this barky.”
“We already be doin’ da shite jobs!” Shamus exclaimed.
“One more outburst, Mr. Red, and I will let Mr. Mandrik teach you to respect your captain,” Captain Gibbons warned coldly. After holding Shamus's eye for a long moment to emphasize his seriousness, the captain continued, “We have written ads for you that will be posted in town. Local merchants will come to inspect you and question you. You want to put on a good show and you hope they purchase your services. Otherwise, your life will be unbearable on this ship and you will curse your mothers for ever birthing you. Do we have an understandable agreement, gentleman?”
“Aye Aye, Captain,” Sam chirped.
The quartermaster questioned, “Are any of yas versed in words? Raise yas palms if yas can read!”
Patrick and Isaac raised their hands.
“Yas two go over da descriptions of duties proclaimed in da notes," Mr. Mandrik explained in his heavy odd Grecian tongue. "Make sure everyone knows da skills we say day are learned at. I am given yas da proclamation of sale notes. Don’t dare soil dem and I be back shortly.”
As the quartermaster walked away the five men gathered around to read the advertisements written about them. Patrick read his own advertisement first. The advertisement was written on hemp paper and in elegant penmanship it read:
Just Arrived
June 21st The sale of this indenture will commence at noon in Market Square. Patrick Willis is versed in word and numbers and is well learned. He hast skills of a jeweler and silversmith. The indentured is very skilled with delicate hand work. This man can adapt to other metal work such as blacksmithing and forging. He also has served as a ship carpenter and surgeon’s mate. Terms be a seven year service. I will sell on bid for ready money or Tobacco and the Credit, Bond and Security will be required.
Inquire with Mr. Mandrik of the Robin for inspection and sale.
Patrick reread this advertisement and quickly panned through the others. “All of these are seven years, and none at five!" Patrick stated angrily. "We been lied to again, lads!”
“I thought it be strange," Sam Scurvy piped in. “Most prisoners be indentured seven to ten years, only free men serve but five.” Sam thought for a moment and then continued, “The cap’n is going to try and pass us off as freeman, I says. He made no notice of our transgressions in the advertisement.”
“You can fook that fancy-coat cooksooker. I be going to shove his wig right up his arse! Fook this whole fooked-up, monkey-humpin’ situation. I had enough of this dog squeeze!” Shamus shouted irately.
Isaac held out his hands and calmly resolved, “I will suffer two more years as to never go back to the crap hole we were rescued from.”
“Let us ask Mr. Mandrik about this when he comes forth,” Jessup injected.
“Agreed, we will have him change this,” Patrick conferred.
The heat of anger continued to build among the huddled men until the quartermaster returned.
“What da fook is dis seven year crap you Greek goat-eater?! You’s all lied to us and ya best change da notice back to five years!” Shamus barked as he pointed his angry finger at Mandrik's chest.
The quartermaster began to breathe heavy through his nose like a bull that had seen red. He spoke loudly so there would be no questions. “Da captain changed da terms and ya all better be marketed now. You're to never mention yas jail time or I will throw ya into the drink on da way back to London! Now get back to yas duties and mention dis no more!"
The quartermaster angrily stomped off, leaving the five men staring at each other with dismay. Patrick sighed. “I guess I must suffer seven more years until I can truly live free." The five former prisoners nodded quietly in agreement as Patrick continued, "Lads, much confusion will happen in the next days and this may be the last time we are in league together. So let’s all concur: one day on a harvest moon, years from now at the dock we arrive at, we have a reunion at their best pub.”
The grumbling group accepted Patrick’s idea.
After the men accepted their new fate, the feeling of excitement started to swell again. Tomorrow morning they would finally see Savannah. The men retired to the duties with a sense of newfound hope.
Savannah, 1734
Chapter 5
Savannah
Patrick woke up to loud hoots and cheering. He sprung out of his hammock so fast that his foot caught in the netting and he fell. His cabin m
ates roared with laughter that after all this time, he still could not maneuver his simple hammock. After gathering himself up from the floor and untwisting his ankle from the hammock's netting, Patrick rushed up the deck to the jeers and hollering of the crew already gathered. Off in the far distance, docks could be seen as well as steps climbing up a steep hill.
The boatswain’s whistle blew loudly and the entire crew was materializing topside. The men wore smiles from ear to ear as they slapped each other’s backs with joy. A loud Greek voice proclaimed “Prepare da Robin fur shore, pretend yar Greek so ya will dos it the right way dis time.”
The crew hollered like a church choir, “Huzzah, Huzzah, Huzzah!” as each man scurried to their job like ants on an apple. The deck exploded with excited activity.
Patrick smiled at Jessup, Sam Scurvy, and then Isaac. All the men were grinning at each other in anticipation of landing in Savannah, but a wave of odd feelings washed over Patrick. Something, or someone, was amiss. He wondered, "Where's Shamus?"
Savannah was slowly approaching; a bluff could be seen with a dock jutting from it. A long flight of stairs was cut from the steep slope. The stairs ran from the dock to the upper plateau of the town. There was a large wooden octagon ratcheting crane that was very similar to the windlass used to raise the anchor on the Robin. The crane was used to slide heavy cargo from the docks up a skid to the top of the bluff. Most of the town was difficult to see beyond the large protective palisades, or the wooden fences, circling it.
The crew was a fevered frenzy of activity. If the crew could swim, pushing the ship to increase speed, they would have. A call went out and the men scrambled, reporting to docking stations, as they drifted closer and closer to the bluff. More calls went out across the deck to drop the rigging in order to slow the approach of the speeding galleon. As land grew closer, the calls became more frantic, “DROP THE RIGGING! DROP THE RIGGING!" with no response. Furious, the master rigger questioned, "Where da HELL is da rigging mate?”
Savannah dock in 1739
Calls echoed across the deck, “Shamus, you toothless potato eater, get to your station!”
This commotion immediately attracted the attention of Mr. Mandrik. “Mr. Willis, go find ya drunken mick friend and get 'em to his station immediately,” he demanded sternly. Patrick recruited Isaac to his aid and they went below deck searching for Mr. Red’s passed-out, drunken corpse. They looked everywhere; every bunk, every crawl space, even the bilge. No sign could be found of him. What’s worse was that all of his belongings, including his wooden pot of silver winnings, had vanished as well. Both Isaac and Patrick felt a growing dread. They knew the quartermaster would be murderous with this news and neither man relished the thought of reporting it back to him. They both drudgingly climbed above deck to report to Mr. Mandrik with the news.
As they told him what they found, Mr. Mandrik seemed to grow taller as his rage consumed him. His face became dark and fire blazed in his angry eyes. The two messengers were frightened and recoiled as their eyes sunk to their feet. Both men were struck in their faces with one stinging backhand. “Ya two best hope he is on dis ship! Summon the boatswain to call another meeting, NOW!” the imposing Greek bellowed loudly.
The sound of the boatswain’s whistle could be heard screeching across the deck. The crew quickly assembled in excited curiosity. The quartermaster spoke in a harsh, angry tone. “It seems dat Shamus Red is missing dis morrow from da Robin. No man is getting off dis ship until he is found. All da crew search dis ship and find him. NOW! Or dare be no shore leave for nobody!” Except for the few men essential to docking, the entire infuriated crew immediately began a high-speed and panicked search.
In the meantime, as Savannah came closer into sight, Captain Gibbons ordered, “Quartermaster, signal the harbor master that our barky is ready for the mandatory pox inspection.”
Mr. Mandrik produced a solid iron mug with a finger-sized hole drilled into the middle of it. The signaling cannon looked more like a beer stein than a cannon. “Cover ya ears, sailors. Don’t let its small size fool yas, it packs a hell of a crack. They call this cannon a thunder mug for good reason.” He carefully loaded the powder into the tiny cannon and then took a linstock to it. A loud, thunderous crack filled the harbor and within minutes, the harbor master could be seen rowing small jolly boat out to inspect the vessel.
Some formalities were shouted back and forth between the captain and the dock master. After some quick discussion, the harbor master boarded the Robin and quickly inspected the crew for disease. He returned to his jolly boat, waving the Robin in and leading it to the dock. The harbor master then gave a quick thumbs up motion to call off the cannons on the bluff, which were quietly trained onto the Robin.
The Robin drifted in perfectly and was gently docked; a true credit of the captain’s abilities. The Robin’s crew and the men working the dock snapped to life, working in a fluid unison to tie the ship down. A large steel ruckus was made as the Robin unleashed its noisy anchor. Wasting no time, the crew slid the gangplank to the dock. Before any man could dash off, the quartermaster blocked the way of the crew. “Nobody touches land until da dirty mick is found!” The crew let out a collective groan, like children who were not allowed out after finishing their chores.
Ignoring this order, the captain walked down the gangplank to barter with the dock master over the price and terms of his stay. Summoning one of his cabin boys, the captain instructed, “Boy, post this notice for the auction of the indentured in market square. You'll see the other postings and figure out where to nail it up.” The boy silently and solemnly nodded he understood and ran off. The Captain then strolled up the long stairs and disappeared into the town hidden behind the palisades.
Mr. Mandrik continued to make the crew search futilely for Shamus for the rest of the long day. The men searched until sunset when they started to collect on deck to approach Quartermaster Mandrik. “We done torn dis ship apart, sir," the rigging master stated. "There is no sign of Red. I doubt the drunk was washed overboard; his belongings vanished mysteriously as well. He must have jumped ship, Quartermaster.”
The Greek man was seething with rage. “Listen good!" he shouted as the crew was silenced. "Whoever drags that mick, Irish bastard back to da Robin get’s his weight in silver. Go find him in dis damn town. Check every last piss-stinking booze house and in every penny-whore's bed. But remember da captain’s rules: make no mention of his sordid past or I'll make ya wish ya you were in a shit-hole prison in London.”
The flood of excited men pushed past each other as they shoved their way down the gangplank. Patrick only got one foot on the gangplank until he was shoved to the deck by the angry Greek. “Ya four ain't going anywhere. We no lose anymore of ya slippery fucks. Ya will stay locked below until da auction.” The four men surrendered to their fate and begrudgingly shuffled below deck escorted by six armed crewmen. Each of the four was locked into a cabin, instructed to sleep and clean up. Two days from now they would be auctioned off and they could not look dirty or tired.
* * *
Two long hot slow days had passed. Just a skeleton crew was left to help resupply the Robin. Boxes of cargo were removed while new barrels and boxes were loaded in the cargo hold. The full crew was only seen once a day while they checked in. The Robin’s bell would ring loudly at noon and hung-over and sleepy sailors would slowly materialize on the dock. No returning sailor reported any sighting of Shamus yet. The captain was furious about the loss of so much income. The profits of the Robin’s cargo only covered for expenses of the trip. Gibbons made more gold from his servants than all the cargo he dragged with him across the ocean. The indentured servants were all profit to his war chest. The captain knew he was on a tight schedule and had to have the auction without the foul-mouthed Irishman.
The quartermaster now presented the newly well-dressed, clean and healthy looking men to the captain for inspection. The extra food rations had done well in restoring them from their past skeleton-like bodies. Mr.
Mandrik reminded the four men standing before the captain, “Remember whats da cap’n say: no mention of prison or ya find yourself swimming back to England!” Mandrik then escorted the men to the gangplank and down to the dock.
Patrick, with his feet finally on steady land, felt punch drunk. He stumbled and staggered, trying to make it to the stairs. After finally earning his sea legs and adapting to the constant movement of life on the ship, he now found the solid earth disorienting as he adjusted back to land.
The four men and Mandrik climbed the long flight of stairs and crested the bluff. They passed through the palisades, staring at the town. Savannah welcomed them with a blast of oppressive heat and rancid smells. The ocean breeze was stifled by the high walls of the palisades. Patrick was taken aback. He had never felt heat like this. He could actually see the heat dance in the air and felt the sticky, wet haze soak his shirt. The heat was not the only welcoming present Savannah gave to the men. Patrick swatted at the swarming insects that were biting his hands and face. It was bewildering. He could not see the insects but felt their incessant biting. The men were all swatting and scratching madly as they wandered into town.
Savannah was a town under occupation; the king’s military were everywhere. It seemed half the town was redcoats. This immediately made the four uneasy. In England, the king's army were feared and reviled. They followed and executed the king’s orders without mercy. They were no different than the violent gangs of bandits that roamed the streets of London, except they had nice, bright, uniforms and the government’s blessing. Patrick wondered if the military would still be just as terrifying in Savannah, so far from the king's iron grip of control.
The men started up the street and were immediately immersed in all the activity around them. It seemed most of the town was moving toward Market Square to watch the auction of the new arrivals. Patrick noticed the stark differences in the layout of this town compared to London. It had more of a military fort feel to it, especially the way it was designed. He was told Savannah was the colonies’ first planned city. The men turned a corner and smelled the livestock. They then passed the livery where travelers’ horses were being boarded. There were many black merchants selling goods from carts along the road. Once entering the square, Patrick immediately noticed all the business owners in the square were white. The men approached the livestock area where a large crowd had gathered. The four men were then led by Mandrik to a small wooden block and were instructed to wait.
Pirates of Savannah: The Complete Trilogy - Colonial Historical Fiction Action Adventure (Pirates of Savannah (Adult Version)) Page 7