Skull and Bones

by John Drake

  It pierced him to the heart and extinguished all hope of escape from Flint.

  So he wept many tears.

  He found a tavern and got drunk.

  He thought of hanging himself.

  And the only thing that stopped him was the sure and certain fear of Hell.

  But others too faced agonies…

  * * *

  Chapter 20

  1a.m., 24th June 1753

  Lavery's Wharf, Bermondsey

  London

  Even this late it wasn't quite dark. Not in late June. There was a glow in the sky, and Walrus's launch was clearly visible as she came quietly to rest among the rows of dark boats moored alongside the wooden pier. But nobody noticed her, and even if they had, they'd have not seen the two men carried as prisoners, blindfolded and bound and under orders to keep quiet else they'd be heaved over the side.

  With Allardyce recovering but still unable to stand or speak, for the moment, the Jacobite interest aboard ship had lost its leader, and much of its passion. Spotting this change in the wind, like the good seaman he was, Silver had called a council of all hands, and persuaded them that it would be best to take McLonarch and Norton ashore to set them free - so he told them - and he made sure that he chose the right men for the job: men loyal to himself.

  Thus the launch's crew shipped oars, and made all neat and tidy, and one man stayed aboard, while the rest got their awkward cargo up the stairs to the planking twenty feet above. The only sound was the steady, bump, bump, bump that a one-legged man must make as he climbs a set of wooden stairs with the aid of a wooden crutch.

  "Long John!" said a figure looming out of the half-light from the little watchman's hut at the end of the pier.

  "King Jimmy?" said Silver.

  "Aye!" Jimmy looked at the bound, blind figures. "You brung 'em then."

  "I did," said Silver.

  "Good. Follow me."

  King Jimmy led the way along the pier, past bollards, cranes and old casks, above the slopping, greasy water below, and the stinking squalor of old bottles, rotting food, dead cats, bog-paper and worse that lapped into quiet corners of the river. For the Thames was not only London's highway and water supply but its sewer and rubbish tip.

  "In here," said King Jimmy, and light showed as a big warehouse door swung open and lanterns burned within.

  "At the double!" said Silver, and eight men dashed forward, four to each prisoner, and brought them inside. The door swung shut, the newcomers blinked in the light, and Silver saw that he and his men were once again outnumbered by King Jimmy's. There were at least thirty mudlarks in the high- packed warehouse, and they were standing in groups, giving Silver the hard eye and looking to King Jimmy. They were all armed, though not so heavily as gentlemen o' fortune: cudgels and cutlasses aplenty, but few firelocks.

  "Huh!" said Silver, wondering who'd win if it came down to it.

  "Hmmm," said his men, and felt for their pistols.

  "John! John!" said King Jimmy. "We're all pals together, here."

  "Aye," said Silver.

  "Come along o' me," said King Jimmy. Then, turning to his men: "See these kiddies?" He pointed to Silver's crew. "Give 'em a drop o' drink and some shrimps, and see if you can manage not to murder one another 'til I get back - and Gawd help the bugger what starts anything!"

  "Yeah," said his men.

  "Same goes for you!" said Silver, to his men.

  "Aye-aye!" they said.

  "Come on, John," said King Jimmy, and he took a lantern and led the way into a big office that ran down the side of the warehouse. "Here we are, old chum!" he said, lighting some candles and dragging two chairs to a table. Then he fished out some mugs and a couple of pots of shrimps. "Here you are, John," he said, and smiled.

  But Silver was busy heaving a heavy load out from under his coat, where it had been slung on a strap across his shoulder. It was a canvas bag that clinked and clunked as it landed on the table.

  "That's another lot on account - as agreed," he said, and King Jimmy's eyes gleamed. "And five times that, if you find her," said Silver.

  King Jimmy laughed and felt the bag, and filled the mugs from the tap of a barrel. Then he shook his head.

  "Which ain't yet," he said. "Sorry, John."

  Silver sighed. He waved a hand as if he could brush pain away. He paused, gathered strength, and moved on.

  "What about McLonarch?" he said.

  "Ah!" said King Jimmy, taking a swig. "McLonarch, you say!" He whistled softly and shook his head. "That's the kiddy! That's the bouncing boy!" He nodded and looked at Silver. "He might do it, John. He really might. There's mad buggers like him all over England, keeping quiet since the Scotch got thrashed at Culloden, but who'd follow him given the chance."

  "Would they?" said Silver.

  "Aye! And especially in the old families, the Catholic families. I could take you to a dozen coves that make no secret of it. And that's not the worst of it!"

  "No?"

  "No. Here - have a drop."

  "Not I," said Silver. "What is it?" He raised his mug, sniffing suspiciously.

  "Beer."

  "Ain't you got no rum?"

  "No."

  "Never mind, go on…"

  "Well. McLonarch's been talking to the army."

  "What?"

  "Aye. He knows lots of colonels and such."

  "And?"

  "They're listening…"

  Silver rocked back in his chair and reached for the parrot that wasn't there, because she was fastened to her perch in his cabin. She didn't like boats, and tonight's work was dangerous. He sniffed.

  "So," he said, "he could start a war. But could he win it?"

  "Dunno about that…"

  "And what's he worth to King George?"

  "If you hand him over?"

  "Aye."

  King Jimmy thought long and hard. He helped himself to a handful of shrimps and peeled them and chewed them and swallowed. Finally he shook his head.

  "Dunno, my son, but I'll tell you this: King George'll want everything done quiet. Deep and quiet, so's no cove hears a word, and none gets upset, especially in the army. They won't chop him - McLonarch - 'cos he don't do murder, don't King George, but they daren't put him on trial, so they'll shut him up nice and tight…" Then he pointed at Silver: "- and you with him! You and all your men. You might come out smelling of roses in the end, my son, but they'll take their time deciding."

  Silver sighed. He knew most of this already, for he wasn't relying just on King Jimmy. Not for something so important. Israel Hands, Dr Cowdray and even Warrington had been ashore and asked their questions, and all had come back with the same answer: McLonarch and the Jacobites were the twin horrors of which King George and his government stood in dread. Last time the Jacobites were up in arms - only eight years ago in 1745 - their army came down from Scotland as far south as Derby, and all the London militias were raised in panic to defend the capital. And so… and so John Silver bowed his head. Then he looked up.

  "What about Norton?" he said. "Have you done what I asked?"

  "Easier my way," said King Jimmy, and grinned. "And cheaper!"

  "But have you done it?"

  "Aye."

  "Then let's get up on our wooden spars and go and see him."

  They had four of Silver's men bring the two prisoners to a quiet corner of the warehouse where nobody else could see. Vast bales of cotton were piled high, and deadened all sound. The rest of Silver's men, now boozing merrily with King Jimmy's, couldn't even be heard.

  "Back to your shipmates now," said Silver, to his four men.

  "Aye-aye, Cap'n!" they said and vanished. Silver looked round.

  "Where are they?" King Jimmy raised a lantern.

  "Wait!" he said, and found a small side door, and opened it and waved the lantern.

  Cool air blew in… then came a patter of feet and two seafaring men in dark clothes slipped in through the door. They greeted King Jimmy, spoke in whispers, and looked at
Long John and the two blindfolded men.

  "This here's the one," said King Jimmy, pointing to the smaller man.

  "He'll need to see where he's goin'," said one of the seamen. "I ain't leadin' the sod!"

  "Aye!" said his mate. "And where's the rhino?"

  Silver produced another heavy bag from under his coat.

  "Ah!" they said, and took it.

  "Let's see the light of your eyes, then," said Silver, untying Norton's blindfold.

  Norton looked around him, white-faced and wide-eyed, certain that he was about to die.

  "You bastard!" he said to Silver. "And I took you for a decent cove!"

  "Stand easy!" said Silver. "You ain't goin' in the river. You're goin' with these matelots here -" he jabbed a thumb at the two seamen - "back into your old trade. I shouldn't wonder if you won't get your old rating afore long!"

  "What?" said Norton.

  "You're out-bound for the slave coast, and then to Cuba, where these gennelmen'll let you off… some time next year, when you get there."

  "Oh…" said Norton.

  "Oh?" said Silver. "Is that all?"

  "What d'you want: thanks?" said Norton. "You bloody pirate!"

  "Ah, get rid of him!" said Silver, and turned his back.

  "And what about McLonarch?" said Norton, but he was dragged off into the dark, with two or three others waiting outside with cudgels in case he tried to fight.

  King Jimmy closed the door. Silver's heart was beating heavily.

  "Now then," said Silver, and took the wrappings off McLonarch's eyes. Gaunt, staring and with his hair all askew, McLonarch looked more than ever like an Old Testament prophet.

  Silver's heart thumped and bounded. The thick blood beat in his brow. He drew a pistol from his belt and cocked it.

  "Why don't you go for some shrimps and beer, Jimmy?" he said.

  "What?" said King Jimmy.

  "Go on, like a messmate and a pal."

  "Why?"

  "Just sod off, Jimmy… sod off!"

  King Jimmy walked away. The McLonarch of McLonarch looked at Silver. His mind ran differently to other men's but he was masterly clever at knowing their thoughts and he knew John Silver's at once.

  "Shall you stoop to murder, Captain?" said McLonarch in his deep, beautiful voice. Long John cringed in shame, the pistol hung limp in his hand, and the blood thundered in his head. He was sick and dizzy and his head ached. McLonarch was a bloody mad maniac that couldn't be let free. He'd be the death of thousands, perhaps tens of thousands. So…

  He could be sent to sea like Norton. But he'd talk to the crew till they kissed his arse.

  He could be kept in irons aboard Walrus. But Allardyce wouldn't stay silent forever.

  He could be given to King George to lock up. But King George'd lock up Long John too.

  And then what of Selena? If she was fallen into whoring she must be got out of it quick! Silver shuddered at the thought of men using her, for the longer she was at it, the more ruined she'd be. Then he raised the pistol and thrust it into the centre of McLonarch's breast.

  "You're a Christian, ain't you?" said Silver.

  "Yes, I am."

  "Then make your peace with God."

  McLonarch smiled.

  "Captain," he said, with infinite calmness, "you are too good a man for this."

  "Am I?" said Silver, nearly blind with pain and nausea.

  He thought of Selena… and groaned and wiped tears from his eyes, knowing that before all else - even at cost of his soul - he could not fail her… not her! Not his little darling! He could not see her corrupted, desecrated and soiled. So he shot McLonarch through the heart.

  * * *

  Chapter 21

  Early morning, 24th June 1753

  Abbey's Amphitheatre

  King Street, Polmouth

  Mr Abbey stood on tiptoes to put the blindfold round Selena's eyes. Then he led her to the table. She was wearing her new costume: the one with the riding boots - her own suggestion, having been used to wearing boots aboard ship and feeling comfortable in them - but the gleam of skin above the boots was the genius of Mr Abbey's costumiers. He looked at her and sighed. What was it that made her quite so lovely? Sometimes he thought it was the tiny waist over curving hips, sometimes it was the lovely eyes, sometimes the slender, round limbs. He shook his head.

  Whatsoever, he thought. Who cares, so long as she's playing to packed houses! Aloud, he said, "There, madame, all is prepared. Let us see you do it!"

  He stepped back and went to stand with Katty Cooper and his entire company, together again for Sunday rehearsal. They whispered and whistled at Selena's latest outfit, even those of the men who stepped lightly; perhaps them especially, for they truly appreciated costume, and marvelled that so much could be contrived out of so little.

  "Go on, Selena!" they cried.

  "Selena!"

  "Go on, girl!"

  And there was a cheer as Selena stamped her foot, slapped her thigh and stood forth bold and heroic: legs apart, hands on hips, tossing her head.

  "Aha!" she cried. "Now, sir, take your guard!"

  Another cheer and applause, for Abbey had discovered that the way to get the best out of Selena was to send her strutting boldly round the stage on her long legs, since that was guaranteed to raise a stand within every pair of britches in the house.

  As he'd said to Katty Cooper: "When she comes on, dear heart, don't worry if there is profound silence from the men… for that is not a bad sign." And indeed it wasn't. And now, not just audiences, but the entire city of Polmouth - the biggest town in the West Country - were falling in love with Selena. Yet there was still further development to come, from a chance remark Selena had made.

  "Now then," cried Mr Abbey, clapping his hands. "Let's see you do it!"

  Selena stretched out her hands, and found the pistol and paper cartridge on the table in front of her. She felt for the flint, to make sure it was in place, set the lock to half-cock, bit off the end of the cartridge, primed the lock with powder, snapped down the steel, poured the rest of the charge down the up-ended barrel, and rammed ball and paper down the barrel with the ramrod, which she neatly replaced before cocking the lock, levelling and giving fire with a flash and a bang… and a loud CLANG from the great sheet of iron plate hung on a ropes ten paces to her front.

  Cheers filled the amphitheatre as Selena pulled off her blindfold, threw it away, put down the smoking pistol, and stamped forward again, smiling and bowing with easy grace to left and right, and blowing kisses to all the house… as she'd been taught.

  Mr Abbey, Katty Cooper and the company surged forward, ears ringing from the shot and the clang, and laughed and surrounded Selena.

  "Where did you learn that?" said Mr Abbey. "Do you hunt?"

  "No," said Selena.

  "Then what do you shoot?" said Abbey, for he affected gentlemanly pursuits, including shooting, and went out after game of all kinds, and it was his own conversation on this favourite topic which had led to Selena's boast that she could load a gun blindfolded. "So what have you shot?" he repeated. "Do tell us!"

  "Nothing…" she said, in a small voice "… only men."

  Everyone thought this a wonderful joke. They laughed enormously, even Katty Cooper, who knew less about Selena than she thought. And as they laughed, inspiration crept up on Mr Abbey. He noticed that some of the dancing girls were clustered around Selena in their gowns and pumps, which made them seem smaller than Selena with her boots and her pistol…

  "Stap me!" he said, growing excited. "Do you know, dear heart, I think I might cast Mrs Henderson as the principal boy player in one of my pantomimes!"

  Katty Cooper frowned.

  "But she's a woman."

  "That's the whole point!"

  "What is?"

  "Well, if we present her - with legs and tits - stamping around the stage pretending to be a man, firing off pistols, and taking the heroine in her arms…"

  "Ahhhh!" said Katty Cooper, begin
ning to understand, for many gentlemen of her professional acquaintance were exceedingly partial to such displays between women.

  "We'll have something the men will adore," said Abbey, "while the ladies and children will think it mere innocent nonsense…"

  "Which will offend nobody."

  "Not at all, not even clergymen," said Abbey, and laughed… and gasped and all but staggered, as he received the second wave of inspiration. He spun Katty Cooper around by the arms, and looked up into her pretty little face. "D'you know what I'm going to do?"

  "No?"

  "I'm coming with you!"

  "You are?" Katty frowned.

  "Yes! In fact, I'm taking you. We shall tour together: York, Edinburgh, Exeter, Chester - all of them, at my expense!" Katty's frown darkened, but Abbey failed to notice. "I shall form a travelling company. I shall write a piece!" He waved a hand. "Songs, dances, scenery - everything. We shall tour!" His eyes gleamed. "And then we shall descend upon Drury Lane in triumph!" Katty Cooper growled. "And the lynch-pin and keystone shall be Mrs Henderson," he said. "And I shall make her fortune, mine - and yours, dear heart!"

  "Mine?" said Katty Cooper with a twinkling smile, for until that instant she'd seen herself written out.

  "Yes!" said Abbey. "And you must not even think of entering her into your profession -" He blinked. "I mean… I mean… your old profession, dear heart."

  "Must I not?" she said nastily, for the dear little face could display tremendous spite when it chose to do so.

  "God stap me, no! You'll make ten times the money this way!"

  "Ahhhhh!" Katty smiled again. That was different.

  "Then you agree?"

  "Oh yes," said Katty Cooper, and delivered yet another pretty smile.

  She smiled and smiled… but Katty Cooper hated Mr Abbey from that moment on, because although she could never say no to money, she was so corrosively - so viciously - selfish that she could abide no plan than her own, nor any hand than hers upon the tiller.

  Worse still, Katty Cooper now hated Selena, too, for being better than her mentor and not needing her.