by Kage Baker
“Oh, right,” said Anslow, and glanced uneasily over his shoulder. “That’s for Captain Reynald to say, of course. But it’ll be all right. I’ll vouch for you.” For the first time he seemed to notice the cabin behind John. “The missus in there?”
“Aye.”
“Congratulations on your wedding, ma’am,” said Anslow in a raised voice.
“I thank you, sir,” said Mrs. Waverly, through the bulkhead.
“You’re kindly welcome,” said Anslow. He looked sheepish. “Well. Business is business.”
“So it is,” said John. “Shall I go help you shift cargo?”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“It ain’t my property,” said John, shrugging.
FOUR:
The Harmony
WHEN THEY WENT ON deck at last, with Mrs. Waverly clinging tightly to John’s arm, the cleaning-up had begun; which was to say, dead men from both sides were being pitched overboard, and the blood was being swilled off the decks with buckets of seawater. The survivors of the crew of the Fyrey Pentacost were lined up along the rail, being jeered at by the survivors of Captain Reynald’s crew. Captain Sharp was slumped against the mast, clutching a lace-edged handkerchief to his eye. Captain Reynald, a lean Frenchman, was surveying his new quarterdeck and looking pleased with himself.
“Captain sir?” Anslow touched his forelock and led John and Mrs. Waverly forward. “This is my mate John, what I mentioned, and his bride.”
“Madame!” Captain Reynald gaze fixed on Mrs. Waverly. “Enchanted!” He took her hand and kissed it. “Please have no fears for your safety. We are a gallant band of adventurers, and respect the honor of a woman. Mr. Anslow informs me your husband is a comrade of his.”
“How very kind,” said Mrs. Waverly, with a bright artificial smile.
“And you are welcome to our crew, sir,” said Captai Reynald to John, looking him up and down. “We are short-handed.”
“Er,” said John. “Well—”
“Hear me!” Captain Reynald turned to the prisoners. “I offer each man among you the same choice! You may go over the side with your captain, or you may take the oath to join our company and live free. Will you join us, for liberty and treasure? What of you?” He pointed his cutlass at Mr. Tudeley, who had been hauled up from his cabin sobbing and now stood swaying and white-faced, from sickness and terror both.
“Oh, Jesus, sir! I wish to live!” cried Mr. Tudeley.
“Trés bien! Welcome, friend. And you?” Captain Reynald swung the tip of his cutlass to Sejanus, who was next in line.
“I cheerfully accept your offer,” said Sejanus. About this point it sank in on Mr. Tudeley that he had just joined a pirate crew, and his mouth opened for a cry of horror. Somehow, though, all that emerged was a sort of croak.
Captain Reynald moved briskly down the line, and one after another of the Fyrey Pentacost’s crew joined up, except for the ship’s cook and Mr. Harris, who had been beaten unconscious and couldn’t voice a preference. He was dumped unceremoniously into the bottom of one of the boats, and lowered over the side; the ship’s cook was shoved down to join him and so, after a certain amount of furious invective and threats of the rope’s end, was Captain Sharp. They were set adrift, as the Fyrey Pentacost put on sail and tacked about.
All this while John had been revolving in his mind what he ought to do, and was just clearing his throat and preparing to approach Captain Reynald when Mrs. Waverly’s fingers pinched off the circulation in his arm.
“Husband, may I just speak a word in your ear?”
“To be sure, wife,” said John, walking with her into the waist, where nobody much was standing at the moment.
“I must commend you on your swift thought, and your care for mine honor,” said Mrs. Waverly. “Knowing full well that you will never be such a beast as to press your advantage against a helpless female. Now, my dear: on no account must we let slip, amongst such people, any least detail regarding our plans.”
“I wasn’t about to tell ’em,” said John, indignant. “What kind of a mooncalf do you take me for?”
“I’m sure you’re quite clever,” said Mrs. Waverly. “Just as I am sure Mr. Anslow is a kind gentleman, and Captain Reynald too for all I know. But I think it best to be discreet amongst so many other persons of uncertain character, don’t you? We will go along for the present and bear with our misfortune, trusting that we will have the opportunity to escape at some point and make our way to Leauchaud.”
“Right,” said John. “It’s only that I was getting out of the business, as it were, and now I’m on the account again whether I will or no. Any court’s going to say this was an English ship, and hang me up alongside that frog captain.”
“Only if we are caught,” said Mrs. Waverly. “And in any case I shall plead for mercy, and swear that you only did it to protect me.”
“How likely is that to work?”
“It has never failed before,” said Mrs. Waverly, smiling graciously at Captain Reynald.
* * *
The ship was rechristened the Harmony, and that night they found themselves invited to another dinner with the captain; only this time it was at a long trestle table set up belowdecks, in the crew’s quarters.
“Welcome, friends,” said Captain Reynald, who had put on a clean shirt for the occasion. “Madame.” He bowed deeply and once more kissed Mrs. Waverly’s hand. “I trust you will find the viands to your liking. They have been prepared with these own hands of mine.”
“Really,” said Mrs. Waverly, as he led her to a place at the head of the table.
“Indeed, madame. We are a happy community of brothers here; I am the leader only in matters of war and philosophy.”
“Philosophy?” said John, taking his seat to Mrs. Waverly’s left, since Captain Reynald had taken the seat to her right. Sejanus took a seat next to him and sat looking around, in great enjoyment; Mr. Tudeley, still pale and miserable, found himself seated far down the table.
“Indeed, my friend. We are a Utopian fraternity of corsairs, rebels against the entrenched corruption of kings and merchants. We have refused the chains of Civilization and live in perfect equality here, upon the wide sea, the mother of liberty. Is it not so?”
“Yes, Captain,” chorused the crew, in tones that suggested they’d heard his speech a multitude of times.
“For example: all delicacies shall be shared in common among us.” Captain Reynald drew the serving platter close, and carved one of a pair of Captain Sharp’s capons. “My brother corsairs share in whatever bounty we find. Will you have some of this chicken, madame?”
“I thank you, yes,” said Mrs. Waverly. He loaded her plate with generous slices, to the point where the men at table looked narrowly at what was left.
“Perhaps you are surprised by such men; perhaps you expected us to be little better than savages,” continued Captain Reynald.
“I confess I scarcely knew what to expect,” said Mrs. Waverly.
“Though of course it is a fact that among civilized men, you will generally find filth, moral turpitude, decadence and lies, whereas if you make the acquaintance of primitive Man in his natural element you will find him a noble and honest creature,” said Captain Reynald, with a gracious nod in the direction of Sejanus.
“I wouldn’t know, sir,” said Sejanus dryly. “I was born in Massachusetts.”
“Pardon me,” said John, a little irritated by Captain Reynald’s attentions to Mrs. Waverly. “This sounds all right and proper, and I’m grateful to know we’ve fallen in with such a high-minded lot; but, since we’re on the account, let’s talk business. Have we got a commission?”
“Why, of course,” said Captain Reynald. “Signed by the governor of Tortuga.”
“Allows us to go after anybody but the French,” said Anslow, grinning. “And even them, if the captain don’t feel they’re yew-topian enough.”
“How do you know?”
“I regard them through the spyglass,” said Captain R
eynald. “If the captain is dressed in great finery and his men are ragged, clearly he is oppressing them and it is our duty to liberate the ship.”
“We got the Triomphe de Bourbon that way,” volunteered one of the crew. “There was a ship, by God!”
“Pity about that reef off Curacao,” said another man, looking mournful.
“It is no matter,” said Captain Reynald. “We have this fine ship now, and the Fraternity; we shall cruise together and increase our fleet. Others will come to join us, and who can say? Perhaps we will find a suitable island on which to set up our community, and govern ourselves democratically.”
There were responses from the crew of “Oui, c’est vrai,” and “Right you are,” and “We’re all looking forward to that day, I’m sure,” none of it in tones of great enthusiasm.
“But in the meantime,” Anslow said to John, “It’s the old rules. No Purchase No Pay, but no damned shares to the King nor the Duke of York nor no governors, neither!”
“Not even the governor of Tortuga?”
“He is a reasonable man, and is content with a modest bribe,” said Captain Reynald. “And even I, the captain, even my share is no greater than that of my fellow corsairs. We are equal in all things!”
“Really,” said Sejanus.
“Indeed,” said Captain Reynald, filling Mrs. Waverly’s glass with Captain Sharp’s best rhenish. “I propose a toast, my friends: to universal liberty and the brotherhood of all mankind!”
They drank, all of them; even Mr. Tudeley, who screwed up his face as though he was about to swallow poison. After the first taste, though, he sighed and had another.
FIVE:
Theology
THE CONGENIALITY ON BOARD lasted about as long as the delicacies plundered from Captain Sharp’s private store held out. When they were back to jerked beef and rum, the mood reverted to one a bit more like what John expected on a pirate ship.
Equality or no, Captain Reynald reserved the right to order them about. The first task John and his mates were set was tearing down the poop and quarterdecks, so the Harmony became a flush-decked fighting platform.
“I have been meaning to ask you about something,” said Sejanus, as he levered out the windows of the great cabin.
“What?” said John, catching the panes before they shattered and setting the window down flat.
“When did you and your mistress marry?”
“How dare you ask such an impertinent question, sir?” said Mr. Tudeley, sweating as he struggled to pry loose the wall-paneling by the privy closet. He set down his crowbar and pulled off his spectacles to wipe them on his sleeve. “Though to speak truth, Mr. James, I had wondered myself.”
“We ain’t married,” said John. “It was a ruse, what d’you think? On account of I didn’t know what these fellows would be inclined to do with her.”
“Ah! Very gallant of you,” said Mr. Tudeley.
“Just so,” said Sejanus. “So…you are her servant, then.”
“Aye,” said John. He took up Mr. Tudeley’s crowbar and hooked it into the paneling that had defeated Mr. Tudeley. A wrench, a grunt, and the panel popped off and bounced across the room like a playing card.
“And yet, you were a pirate before,” mused Sejanus. “How does a man go from piracy to serving in a lady’s chamber?”
John turned slowly, with the crowbar in his hand. “Well, ain’t you too clever by half?” he said quietly. “I reckon if I was to crack your crown and pitch you out that window-hole, there ain’t anybody’d know it wasn’t an accident but me and Tudeley here.”
“Too clever,” said Sejanus, nodding, though he did not move. “Yes, that’s me. And you aren’t as stupid as you look, either. I’ll hold my tongue.”
“But…” Mr. Tudeley’s face contorted as he tried to think through the relationship. “But…good God, sir, d’you mean the woman is a strumpet? You brought her aboard for immoral purposes?”
Sejanus burst out laughing.
“You dunce, who in hell goes to sea for a fuck?” said John crossly. “We could have laid up in an alehouse if that was all we’d wanted. Look, mate, here’s the truth of it: me and her man was mates in Panama, and he died, and I come back to tell her.” Hastily he laid down a new level of untruth, like paint. “Her health ain’t the best, and she wanted to take the waters at Leauchaud. I was only squiring her out there on my old mate’s account, as a last favor like.”
“Mmm-hm.” Sejanus took up a crowbar and set about dismantling the window frame.
“You must excuse me,” said Mr. Tudeley. “I have moved so long amongst indecent people, I scarcely recognize an honest man when I see him anymore.”
“That’s all right,” said John, pulling the cabin’s wainscoting away.
“I have often thought it must be something in the air of this place,” said Mr. Tudeley, in a mournful voice. “I used to imagine the tropics would be like Paradise, when I was in London. Reading Raleigh’s book, you know, imagining green palms waving in the sunlight, and luscious fruits growing all year round, and quaint birds and monkeys. It seemed another Eden.
“I’d no idea I’d find such heat, such rogues and drunkards, such…sweat and stink and filth! Mr. Cox had been a reasonable and upright man in London; Squire Darrow had great reason to trust him with the plantation. Yet I watched him rot before mine eyes in this sweltering heat, doing no more but lying in his hammock all hours of the day and swilling rum. I spoke with him long and earnestly, pointing out his duty, and was told to go to perdition for my pains. Was that fair, sir, I ask you?”
“I don’t reckon life’s fair, mate,” said John.
“And yet, I know I was blamed,” said Mr. Tudeley. He put his spectacles back on and bent to pick up the wooden slats that John was scattering everywhere. “Mr. Cox drinking himself into an early grave, who was left to blame but me? Squire Darrow’s reproach was almost more than I could bear. Yet it is all of a piece with the course of my life.”
“Mm-hm,” said Sejanus.
“Do tell,” said John.
“Nothing but disappointments,” said Mr. Tudeley. “Disappointed at school, in my marriage, in my prospects, all hopes blighted. It’s enough to make a man rail at God.”
“Chah!” said Sejanus. “Why don’t you, then? If it makes you feel any better.”
Mr. Tudeley shuddered. “Bitter as the crust of my life has been, how much worse might it be was I to call down the wrath of the Almighty?”
“Now, see, you’re like my father,” said Sejanus.
“How dare you!”
“There he was, lying in chains in a pool of shite, rolling to and fro as the slave-ship rolled, and what did he say? ‘Oh, merciful Damballah, I don’t know what I did to make you angry with me, but I’m sorry!’ And then there he was, sold naked as a baby on the auction block, and dragged away to sweat on a tobacco plantation, and what did he say? ‘Oh, merciful Damballah, I know I must have earned your anger, but if you’ll show me what you want me to do, I’ll do it!’
“And then there he was, lamed when a wagon rolled over his leg, and sold away to old Reverend Walker of Boston, who made him fetch and carry anyway and married him to an ugly woman, and what did he say? ‘Oh, merciful Damballah, I just know you have a reason for all the sufferings you’ve inflicted on me, and maybe someday you’ll please to tell me what it is?’
“And you know what he always said to me? ‘Respect the loas, Bandele! They are great and powerful and they watch over us always!’ ”
“What’s a loa?” asked John.
“Well, what can you expect of your heathen gods?” said Mr. Tudeley with a sniff. “Our Lord God Almighty is the true divinity.”
“And so said Reverend Walker,” said Sejanus. “He gave me schooling, he said to me, ‘Little Sejanus, I cannot save thy father’s obdurate soul, but I shall save thine.’ He said, ‘The Lord Almighty in His infinite mercy has visited the burden of slavery upon thy sinful people, and thou must bear it patiently, for it is part of H
is divine plan.’ I said to myself, Oh, yes, that’ll make me love your Lord Almighty!
“But he preached at me every day, did the Reverend Walker, trying to save my black soul. He’d lean out the window and preach at me the whole time I’d be weeding in his garden. He preached at me every mile of the way I had to carry him to and from the church, after he got too old to sit a horse.
“I said to myself, these two old men are fools. Great and powerful Damballah couldn’t save his people. Great and loving-merciful God carrying on the spiteful way He does makes no sense either. So at last I resolved I wasn’t believing in any of them.
“And you know what happened then, just last year?”
“What?” inquired John, pausing to mop his sweating face.
“We had moved to Virginia,” said Sejanus, smiling at the memory. “They passed a law there. The news came the day after I became an atheist. ‘All slaves come into the country by ship will remain slaves. All slaves born into the country to be manumitted after thirty years’ service.’ And I was just thirty. ‘There it is,’ I said To Reverend Walker, ‘I was born here. I’m free!’
“He signed my manumission and he said, ‘Then God has blessed you, Sejanus. Kneel with me and pray!’ And my old father said “You see? The loas have set you free! Let’s make them an offering in thanks.’
“I said ‘Thank you, but I think I’ll just get my black arse out of here before the law changes.’ I took my manumission paper and I set off. Last I saw, those two old sad men stood there watching me walk away down the lane. All their holy-holies between them couldn’t set me free. Only a loophole in the law, and me having the wits to jump through it.”
“Oh, that’s just blasphemy,” said Mr. Tudeley.
“But I worked my way this far and here I am, free as a bird,” said Sejanus. “How free are you, God-fearing man?”
“How’d you like dumping Captain Sharp’s pisspot for him?” said John. Sejanus scowled at him.