Skull and Bones

by John Drake

  "Huh!" said Silver. "Put it in their grog with a drop o' sugar. Then they'll take it!"

  Two weeks later, and miraculously to the seamen, there was no scurvy in the ship, and the crew proclaimed united blessings upon Cap'n Silver… with unfortunate consequences…

  "Why should be get the credit?" said Flint, privately, to Billy Bones. "It was Cowdray brought the lemons aboard."

  Billy Bones felt his guts twist. He did so very much want to believe that his master was re-born but this could be the first turning from the light.

  "Never mind that, Cap'n" he said, which honorific he applied to Flint, whatever his rating aboard ship. "It's yourself that all hands looks to, to bring us safe to port. There ain't none to match you at that!"

  "Yes," said Flint, allowing himself to be flattered, while Billy Bones sighed with relief, and hoped he'd made all things right.

  And it seemed that he had, when, a few days later, the storm eased and the ship's navigators took their first noon observation for weeks, and made their calculations, and met in the master's cabin.

  "Youngest first, Mr Flint last," said Silver.

  "Aye!" they said, for that way none would be tempted to copy Flint.

  "Here," said Mr Joe, pencilling a cross on the chart.

  "Here," said Billy Bones.

  "Here," said Warrington.

  "Huh!" said Silver. "What a precious art it is, this quadrant-walloping!"

  For the crosses were vastly far apart. But even Silver knew this was nothing unusual after so long a period with only dead reckoning for guidance. Now everyone looked to Flint, who shook his head in surprise.

  "Well done, Mr Joe," he said, and placed a cross almost exactly beside that of the nineteen-year-old, once an illiterate slave, and now - through talent and hard work - the best navigator in the ship… apart from himself of course! Flint smiled, "Like you, Mr Joe, I think we are almost exactly in thirty-seven degrees of latitude, and some hundreds of miles to the east of America, off the mouth of Chesapeake Bay and the Colony of Virginia." He opened a pair of dividers, set them to scale, and stepped them across several charts, to measure distance. "We should count ourselves lucky to be alive," he said. "But we are so far off course, and the ship and her people so enfeebled, that we must put into port soon, and I would suggest Alexandria, on the Potomac River. There are other possibilities, but it is a major port. More important, it is a place where we shall not be known."

  "Aye!" they said, and the word went round the ship, and all aboard rejoiced at the coming end to their perils, with a run ashore, and fresh food and warm bread. The whole ship was merry and the weather stayed calm… with further unfortunate consequences.

  Selena was deadly, utterly bored with being cooped up below by the storm. Moreover, she'd now put Flint and Silver in their place, and there was no creature aboard that did not know her view on being snatched away from London. That being done… it wasn't natural for a girl of her youth to sulk forever, especially a girl so ready to make best use of such opportunities as life presented. After all, it wasn't that much worse being an object of reverence aboard ship than being mistress to an ugly old man, however charming, and at least she didn't have to share his bed!

  So: when the weather eased she dressed herself smart and went on deck, and all hands smiled to see her; and touched their brows, and she smiled in return, delighting in the fresh air, and talking to Dr Cowdray and Israel Hands. And as for Joe Flint and John Silver, she'd heard of their friendship, and the great change in Flint, and she saw their careful smiles at herself… and so… by stages… she began to smile back, as they tried to please her.

  Thus Silver told silly stories…

  "The Chinese, ma'am?" he said. "They eat everything from dog's pizzle to octopus-bollock soup, beggin' your pardon!"

  And Flint courted her in French…

  "Bonjour, et comment vas tu, ma petite princessef"

  And Billy Bones watched, and felt the first dreadful fear of the old rivalry, which, like the coast of America, was just under the horizon.

  Two days later, Walrus came in sight of land and all aboard looked to see the black shoreline creep slowly upon them. The rain was drizzling under dull clouds, but the sea was kind, the wind fair for landfall, and the crew stood in their winter clothes, and smiled as best they could, and smelled the land: that indescribable scent that all seafarers know, after a long voyage.

  Messmates stood together, Flint with Billy Bones, Long John with Israel Hands.

  And Selena stood next to Silver, while Flint scowled, and Billy Bones looked on in agony.

  As the hands pointed out the shore, and the masts of other ships hove up over the horizon, there was chattering and naming of prominent points, especially as Walrus came eastward into the mouth of the mighty Chesapeake bay.

  Silver put his glass to north, and then to south, then offered it to Selena.

  "Here, lass," he said, "take a look, for this is the beginnings of America! We're between the Virginia capes, which is Cape Charles to the north and Cape Henry to the south - named for the sons of King James a hundred and fifty year ago." He pointed to the distant shores. "The Capes is as far apart as England and France. And within… why, Chesapeake Bay is over two hundred and fifty miles long, and thirty miles wide at the widest!" He shook his head. "It's vast beyond belief, my girl, like all the Americas!"

  Selena took the telescope, which was too big for her, and Silver drew it, and helped her take a sight through it, necessarily standing close, and brushing against her.

  "That 'un there," he said, "that's Cape Henry, where the men of the Virginia Company landed in 1607, after a voyage of one hundred and forty-four days, aboard three ships, of which one was called Godspeed." He smiled. "Don't know the names o' the others. But there was a hundred souls aboard what founded Jamestown, the first English town of the Americas."

  "A hundred and forty-four days," she said, looking at the green shore. "That's worse than ourselves, isn't it?"

  "Aye. We been eighty-nine days at sea, by my reckoning," he said.

  And she nodded, and handed back the glass, and smiled. Then she glanced at Flint, who bowed elaborately, sweeping off his hat and smiling.

  "Bonjour, madame," he said.

  "Bonjour, monsieur," she said, and laughed, and looked to Silver for the fun of playing them off, one against the other… a game that she knew was wildly dangerous, but it was exciting, and she was still punishing them.

  Long John frowned and fretted and looked at his rival. He was a fine bugger, was Flint: fine face, fine figure, fine manners. He was everything that women liked. Even with two legs, Silver couldn't have matched him for looks, and never as a cripple!

  So it wasn't only Flint who was turning from the light, but Silver too. In the storm, under urgent need for teamwork to save the ship, they'd stood together. Now, it was their tragedy that, left in peace with no overwhelming threat, they were pulled apart by rivalry for a woman: that ancient and corrosive acid, which was easily capable of dissolving their new friendship. For that had always had been shallow, depending as it did upon denial of acknowledged history.

  Thus, day by day, the two men dug into their memories for the bad rather than the good, and once again they began to hate, until they were held together only by the two halves of the divided papers.

  And all hands saw it, and muttered among themselves and worried: all except Billy Bones, who despaired.

  Four days later, on 4th April, Walrus dropped anchor off Alexandria, on the western bank of the Potomac. It was new, raw and unfinished, with as many empty lots on its grid- pattern streets as there were finished houses. But it was a flourishing port, with tobacco going out and manufactured goods from England coming in, and many ships anchored, and wharves and warehouses besides. And of those houses that were completed, many were in brick and stone, built to best London standards, especially those of the major merchants, lined up along Fairfax Street, looking down upon the river.

  Once again, and for discr
etion, Mr Warrington was made sober, made clean, and made captain… and charged with undertaking all dealings with shore authorities, while Walrus became Sea Serpent. There were days of busy traffic, of boats bringing fresh food, and other supplies, and storm damage made good, and the men allowed ashore, by watches, with their arms secured aboard ship, and under oath to behave.

  Meanwhile, Selena was left wanting to go ashore yet afraid to do so. She spoke to Dr Cowdray.

  "I'm wanted for murder in Charlestown," she said.

  "That's another world," he said.

  "But someone might know me."

  "Selena," said Cowdray, "Charlestown is five hundred miles away. That's as far as England is from Spain! D'you think Flint would go ashore if he thought he'd be recognised? And he's wanted for murder everywhere!"

  So Selena went ashore, where the first two taverns refused outright to receive her. They refused even though she was accompanied by two "servants" - Tom Allardyce, now fully fit, and Mr Joe - who carried her baggage and called her ma'am. The trouble was, that while entirely respectable, she was plainly of the negro race and therefore unacceptable as a guest within the house.

  "I told you, ma'am," said Allardyce, "I said they wouldn't have you."

  "Bah!" said Selena and stamped her foot. "What do they think I am: a field nigger?" Then, "Oh…" she said, looking at Mr Joe, "I mean… I mean… in London and Charlestown I was welcomed everywhere."

  "That was there, ma'am," said Allardyce. "This is here.n

  In the end, it took the persuasion of Flint and Silver together, and a fat purse, to get Selena into Duvall's tavern - one of the best in the town, with private rooms for hire upstairs. But she had to take her meals in her room and come and go by the back stairs, which humiliation she accepted because anything was better than another day aboard ship! Even so simple a pleasure as a clean, dry bed, was close to Heaven, as was the ability to be alone to consider her future.

  Meanwhile, being in Duvall's tavern, Flint and Silver found a seat by the fire, in a quiet room, with a few tables and some gentlemen smoking pipes. They sat down and stared, unsmiling at each other. They said nothing, for any conversation led to argument. So they had a silent dinner, and were steadfastly ignoring each other over a glass of rum punch when a loud argument broke out in the room next door.

  "No! No! No!" cried a loud voice. "Be damned if I will!" And a chair crashed over, a door boomed like a cannon, heavy footsteps sounded, and a red-faced Virginian gentleman stamped into the room and sat himself down at the table next to Flint and Silver.

  "Bah!" he said, and beat the table with his fist. "Bah!"

  He was a very big man, well over six feet tall, with red hair and grey-blue eyes. His face was massive, he had huge hands and feet, and though he was quite young - only in his early twenties - he was a dominant, aggressive creature, full of confidence, used to having his own way, and capable of great rages when he didn't get it.

  "Bah!" he said again, and glared round the room. But for once there were others present who were as dominant as he, and equally unused to giving way.

  "Trouble, matey?" said Silver, staring steadily back.

  "I do hope," said Flint, "that I, personally, have given no offence?"

  "What?" said the big man, for he'd been paying attention to nobody but himself.

  "Oh!" he said. "Your pardon, sirs." He frowned and sought to explain: "There is a fellow in that room -" he stabbed a huge finger "- who holds the king's commission, and tells me that the French and Indians must be met in the forest by platoon firing, with drums rolling and troops dressed in line!" He slammed the table with the flat of his hand. "Huh!" he cried. "D'you see the nonsensical ignorance of it?"

  "Ahhh," said Flint and Silver, for they'd seen forest warfare. They'd seen how the slippery Indian outclassed the plodding musketeer. So they nodded, and made a friend.

  "My dear sirs," he said, "I have exceeded the bounds of politeness. Would you do me the honour to share a bottle of wine, in apology for my behaviour?"

  "With pleasure, sir," said Flint.

  "Come aboard, shipmate," said Silver, indicating a chair at their table.

  Which they soon regretted because he delivered a monologue on the war that was coming against France and Spain: an unremarkable prospect to Flint and Silver, who'd grown up among such wars, but the angry gentleman was fearfully anxious for the thirteen English American colonies:

  "Consider," he said, "French Canada lies to our north - a despotic, military state - while the vast Spanish empire lies to our south!" He went on at length, especially about forest warfare and the Indian allies of the French. It was all very tedious, but then Flint picked up a certain drift in his conversation.

  "Tell me, sir," said Flint, "do these Indians use the musket or the bow? I mean the bow as in 'bow and arrow'." He repeated two of these words, slurring them together as if they were one: "bow-as…"

  The big man said nothing, but his lips shaped the word: Boaz…

  "I think you have square-ly hit the mark, sir," he said.

  "I shake your hand on it, sir," said Flint, and held out his hand.

  Silver frowned. Something was going on. Something secret. He watched as Flint and the other made a pantomime of holding their grip, and smiling little smiles. Then Silver saw the big man look at him, then raise his eyebrows at Flint, and Flint shake his head.

  No, he was saying. Whatever it was the silly sods thought they were, he - John Silver - wasn't one! Secret bloody signs! Silver was fuming. It was just one more piece of shit from Flint!

  "So," said the big man, "I welcome you to Alexandria, for I should inevitably have met you before, had you not been newly arrived."

  Flint gave another little smile.

  "I am Joseph Garland of the schooner Sea Serpent," said Flint, "And this is my friend, Mr… ah… Bristol. We are merchants and seafarers."

  "Mr Bristol!" said the big man, shaking Silver's hand.

  "And who are you, then?" said Silver, rudely.

  "I am Washington. Colonel George Washington of the Virginia Regiment."

  * * *

  Chapter 30

  Afternoon, 6th April 1754

  Alexandria

  Virginia

  So what the buggeration is sodding masonry?" said Silver, as he and Flint walked along the wharf to where their boat was moored.

  "It's a piece of nonsense that some take seriously," Flint sneered. "The pope takes it so seriously as to forbid it."

  "And what might that mean?" said Silver. "And what was you a-doin' of, with that Washington, with funny words and handshakes?"

  "I'll show you," said Flint, and looked around. "Come over here -" He found a quiet spot among some bales and casks. The two men stopped and looked at one another.

  "Huh!" said Silver, for they didn't do a lot of gazing into one another's eyes: not them, not John Silver and Joe Flint!

  "Pah!" said Flint, as he looked up at Silver's big, plain face. "Give me your hand," he said, "Go on!"

  Silver clasped his hand, and felt Flint's thumb pressing the first knuckle-joint of his first finger.

  "That's Boaz," said Flint. "The grip of the Entered Apprentice."

  "Hoss shite!" said Silver.

  "Wait!" said Flint, and pressed his thumb into the space between Silver's first and second knuckles. "And that's Shibboleth, which is…"

  "Which is bollocks!" said Silver, and pulled his hand away, and Flint's face darkened and the two fell to shouting at one another, and drew back, gasping and panting… well knowing why they must stick together.

  "So what is it?" said Silver, fighting to be civil.

  "It's a secret society," said Flint, "with exalted moral aims. And they recognise one another by special words and signs."

  "And what do you know about it? Are you one of 'em?"

  "Not I! But you know I was with Anson on his circumnavigation?"

  "Aye. For you never cease to boast of it!"

  "Huh! Well, I was master and commander aboa
rd of Spider."

  "So?"

  Flint smiled. It was a nasty smile, and Silver's spine prickled, for he was looking at the old, mad Flint returned - plain as day - in all his wicked spitefulness.

  "My first lieutenant was a man called Sam Higgins," said Flint. "He was a mason, like Anson and all his blasted clique, but he was the only one aboard Spider…" Flint's eyes half- closed as he remembered those times. He shook his head. "Poor Sammy! He never was fit for the sea life… So we played with him a little."

  "Did you now!"

  "Yes. Myself and the other officers. He was different, you see… delicate."

  "Huh!"

  "I suppose we made his life something of a misery."

  "By thunder, I'll bet you did an' all!"

  Flint laughed.

  "Yes. We pressed him in various ways, for the secrets of …The Craft."

  "Masonry?"

  "Yes. And we got it all out of him in the end. All the rituals. All the secrets."

  "But what is it? A religion?"

  Flint frowned. He puzzled.

  "I don't know. I could never make up my mind."

  "So what do they do? Where did they come from?"

  "Well," said Flint, "they meet in lodges. They hold ceremonies…" He shrugged. "The thing is about forty, years old, and started in London."

  "And has it come out to the colonies?"

  "Oh yes! Look at Colonel Washington."

  "Ah!" said Silver. "He's cock o' the walk, that one, and no mistake!"

  "He is indeed," said Flint. "It falls out of his conversation at every word. He is a senior officer of the Virginia Regiment, and is intimately connected in colonial society… and… therefore, through my knowledge of free-masonry I think that I… we" said Flint, seeing the look on Silver's face, "we… may become equally well connected."

  "Meaning what?"

  "I don't know," said Flint. "But we're here for a while, to rest and re-fit…"

  "Aye," said Silver, "the crew's buggered. We're here for weeks."

  "So… let's see what fortune brings. Fortune and Mr Washington."