by John Drake
"Aye," said Silver, and they set off again towards their boat. But just as they were settling in the stern, a thought came to Silver. "What happened to your Mr Higgins? Did he come safe home with Anson, or did the scurvy get him?"
Flint shook his head.
"No. Not little Sammy." He tried to stifle a laugh.
"Well?" said Silver.
"One night… he put on all his masonic regalia… and jumped over the side."
"You mean you pushed him," said Silver.
"No," said Flint, "there wasn't the least need for that."
In the next few days they met Colonel Washington again, several times. Him and others who were important men in the colony: planters, councillors, soldiers and others, of whom a surprising number were, like Washington, in the Craft. Silver soon left Flint to talk to these initiates, disgusted by the nods and winks and little signs that they kept flashing at one another, just as if it weren't clear for any man to see: any man who wasn't Blind Pew!
But even Silver saw that business ashore was thereby eased, and prices fell, and smiles were given and hats raised when Mr Garland and Mr Bristol walked through the town. In return, Colonel Washington and a few friends, some of the leading men of Alexandria, were welcomed aboard Walrus - which is to say Sea Serpent - and the ship and her people turned out for inspection, and the side piped and three cheers were given by all hands, as best they could in their current spent condition.
"Splendid!" said Washington, as he was introduced to the ship's officers. "If it weren't for an anxious mother," he said, "I'd have been a seaman myself and in His Majesty's navy!"
"Oh?" they said politely, as if the Royal Navy were their model and ideal.
"Indeed! For my brother had secured me a berth as a midshipman with a ship a-waiting to receive me." He smiled. "But my poor mother shed tears, and I was but a lad, and so I remain a landman still!"
Later, in the stern cabin, over a few glasses, Washington and his friends comprehensively bored Flint and Silver with an account of the colony's plans to expand inland, via the Ohio valley and the great rivers that flowed in the vast interior.
"But war is coming!" said Washington. "And the French!"
"Aye," said his friends miserably.
"What about the French?" said Silver.
Washington shook his head in sorrow.
"They will use the great rivers to come down from Canada to encircle us."
"So chase them off!" said Silver.
Washington sighed and shook his head. "They are masters of forest warfare."
"Indeed they are," said his friends. "Which we are not!"
"And the rivers of the Ohio are their highways!" said Washington.
"Then the solution is plain," said Flint, smiling.
"Is it?" they said.
"Build a fleet," said Flint. "A fleet of the Ohio, to drive out the French!"
Everyone laughed at the joke, and soon after Washington left with his followers, which was all very jolly. But a few days later, he was back… this time in his full uniform as Colonel of the Virginia Militia: red coat, gorget, scarlet sash and cocked hat.
He came at first light, in a boat pulled by men of his regiment. He wasn't smiling, and Walrus's crew could see that he hadn't come to take wine in the stern cabin, for they looked ashore and saw a company of redcoats - who must have arrived in the night - standing by the quayside with their flag and drums, and a battery of field guns trained on Walrus.
An angry murmur ran through the ship, and all hands were mustered beside their officers as Washington came over the side.
"What's this, Colonel?" said Flint, and the big man stood alone, stood straight, and looked around at the surly mass of seamen without the least hint of fear.
"Perhaps we should talk privately?" said Washington.
"Bugger that!" said Silver. "We're one crew aboard this ship!"
"Aye!" cried Walrus's people.
"Shall we run out the guns, Long John?" said Israel Hands.
"Any such move will draw instant fire from the shore!" said Washington.
There was a roar of anger and a rushing forward, and Washington was shoved against the rail, with only Silver, Flint, Israel Hands and Mr Joe standing between him and the crew's rage.
"Heave him over the side!"
"Hang him by the balls!"
"Kick his bastard head in!"
"Avast!" cried Silver, turning on them. "None o' that, for we ain't in no state, not to fight nor to run!"
Which was true, for Walrus was still unfit for sea. Some of her guns were dismounted, none were loaded, her yards were struck, and she was anchored in easy range of a battery with gunners ready and matches burning. Worse still, the hands weren't fit: not for a desperate fight against odds. So they grumbled and moaned, but fell back.
"Now then, Mr precious George Washington," said Silver, "what the buggery do you want aboard my ship?"
"Ah!" said Washington. "So it's your ship is it… Captain Silver!" The hands gasped. "And your companion is Joe Flint the mutineer!" said Washington. "A man whom England wishes to hang!"
"Colonel," said Flint, swiftly producing a pair of pistols, "please believe me that - should I be taken off this ship, for that purpose - then I faithfully, truly and most profoundly promise… that you will be already dead!"
"Aye!" cried some of the crew, but others gulped and looked at the battery ashore.
"Wait!" said Silver, and glared at Washington. "How'd you know who we are? And I asks you again: what do you want?"
Washington nodded calmly.
"I know Flint," he said, "by a letter just received from my friend Governor Glen of Charlestown, Carolina, which city Mr Flint visited two years ago. Mr Glen describes Flint's escape from hanging in London, which is news fresh landed and the cause of his letter. He also describes Flint's companion in Charlestown: a beautiful black girl named Selena…" Washington looked at Flint. "You are obviously him." He turned to Silver: "And with Flint goes Silver!"
"Maybe," said Silver. "But what, by thunder, do you want of me… and him?" He jabbed a thumb at Flint. Washington hesitated. He looked at the hands clustered all round, for there were sensitive matters to discuss.
"Never mind them," said Silver. "We're all jolly companions here, and gentlemen o' fortune besides!"
"Aye!" said the crew.
"So be it," said Washington. "In the first place, England may wish to hang Flint, but I am not England. Indeed, I am not even English but Virginian. So, listen well…" Washington pointed to the redcoats and the battery at the quayside. "I could sink this ship," he said, and there was a moan from the crew. "But… I have no intention of wasting assets so precious as a ship, and you two gentlemen." He looked at Flint and Silver. "Indeed not, for I have a task for each of you."
"Huh!" cried Flint. "I do no man's bidding than my own."
"Nor I!" cried Silver, but the crew stayed silent.
"Gentlemen," said Washington, sensing that he'd won, "you have my word that no harm will befall you… if you do as I bid." He smiled. "So what shall it be?"
Half an hour later, with the ship swarming with redcoats, Flint and Silver met by chance below decks. Billy Bones and Black Dog the carpenter were with Flint, bearing spare clothes, supplies, and arms and ammunition for all three. Flint and Silver snarled, and the others fell back in the shadows of the 'tween decks, keeping clear of the foul rage of their betters.
"You treacherous swab," said Flint. "Free with a ship and a crew!"
"And you with your shite-fire mouth and your fleet of the bloody Ohio!"
The break now was open and utter. They detested each other with poisonous hatred. They'd stayed together only because of the vast fortune on the island, and the two halves of the papers that led to it. Naturally, each had dreamed of killing the other to take his half. But that was no easy matter. It couldn't be done by stealth with the crew watching and ready to give justice under articles. And it couldn't be face- to-face… though neither knew quite why. Perhap
s each feared the other? Perhaps even now they believed that they achieved more together than apart? The reasons - whatever they were - were deep and powerful.
So now, being forced apart by Washington, all that mattered was where and how the two men should meet again.
"Pah!" Flint crushed his anger. "Shall it be Savannah?"
"Aye," said Silver. "That's still open to the likes of us."
"Savannah,then!"
"If you can get free of bloody Washington!"
Flint laughed.
"Don't ever doubt it. Nor what I shall do to him first!"
"And shall the rendezvous be Charley Neal's place?"
"Ah…" said Flint. Charley Neal had been their agent, buying their plunder.
"What's wrong?" said Silver, spotting the look on Flint's face.
"Charley has… er… gone home to Dublin."
"You bloody bastard!" said Silver, guessing a nastier truth.
Flint shrugged. "His business is sold to a Mr Jimmy Chester."
"How d'you know that?"
"Charley told me just before… before he took ship."
"Then Chester's house it is!" Silver sneered. "And Charley's gone to Dublin, you say?"
"Yes," said Flint.
"You fucking liar!"
"Oh?" said Flint. "And do you always tell the truth, John Silver, as you used to?"
They glared at each other, and each promised himself that - this time - there would be a reckoning in Savannah, with a whole set of papers for just one man.
* * *
Chapter 31
Afternoon, 10th June 1754
Savannah
The Royal Colony of Georgia
Savannah had changed in the two years since Walrus was last there. It had grown considerably. But it was still a grid-pattern of greasy log houses, with a palisaded fort to one side, and it still knew how to greet gentlemen o' fortune.
Guns boomed from the fort in answer to Walrus's salutes, the townsfolk turned out all along the Savannah River's high banks - tall as a ship's topmasts - and gazed down at the fine schooner coming upriver under the Union Jack, wrapped in the smoke of her guns, her people in best shore-going clothes, and a prize following astern: Inez de Cordoba, a neat little brig of a hundred tons, flying British colours over Spanish, even though - just at the moment - there was peace between these powers.
Savannah was the youngest port of the youngest colony in British America: hacked out of virgin forest, and in constant fear of the Cherokee, the Cree and the Chickasaw. It was also the most southerly colony, just a hop and a spit from Spanish Florida, and in fear of that too: mortal fear, because the Spanish - if they came - would come not with mere hatchets and scalping knives, but with cannon and the Inquisition. So Savannah was rough; King George's law ran only on Sundays, and today was a Thursday and there was business to be done.
The anchors went down with a rumble. Sail was taken in, topmasts struck, all made snug and proper, and Walrus was jolly from stem to stern. For one thing it was warm, and all hands remembered the freezing, murderous passage across the Atlantic, and staggering ashore like cripples, not fit to be called seamen. But now they were fattened up on Virginian beef, soothed by the tropics, and they had a lively cruise behind them, the tarts of Savannah in front of them, and a prize astern to prove their manhood.
"Three cheers for Long John!" cried Israel Hands. "Three cheers for our cap'n!"
And they bellowed and roared, and waved their hats, and the people up on the banks cheered too. It was a merry time… even for Selena, standing on the quarterdeck in her seagoing rig of breeches, boots and shirt, with pistols in her belt as natural as if they'd grown there.
"Well, ma'am," said Silver, and hopped forward with his parrot on his shoulder.
"Well, ma'am!" said the bird, and Selena and reached out and stroked it.
"Ah," said Silver, "there's few as can do that and count five fingers!"
"I know," she said, and smiled. She smiled straight into his eyes, and the sun shone bright for John Silver, and he sighed with pure happiness, and all the merrier since the past weeks hadn't been easy.
Washington had sent forth Walrus as a licensed privateer, to spy out what the Spaniards were doing at sea, with a war coming. In return, the Colony of Virginia would quietly ignore King George's law, and provide safe haven for Walrus and her people, and a legal share in any prizes taken: which delighted the crew. The crew, but not Silver. Left to himself, he might - just possibly - have taken the ship and Selena, and sailed over the horizon… Which he couldn't, not with a crew that wanted it all ways: any prizes they could take, plus the treasure, for they knew all about the divided papers and the rendezvous with Flint.
So, even on a ship at sea, Silver was trapped, and had no choice but to do what Washington wanted… at least in the matter of taking Spanish prizes: which - and for the moment - wasn't such a bad thing. Not at all. Not with her smiling at him.
"This is better, ain't it?" he said and dared, just as she had dared, by touching her cheek.
"If it really is legal," she said.
"I've told you. I've shown you the papers. Letters of marque from Washington!"
"Yes," she said. "If you say so." And she laughed again.
"And ain't I all sweet and kindness to them as we takes?"
"Yes," she said. For it was true. Inez de Cordoba had tried to run, been easily caught by the sharp-hulled Walrus and had surrendered at the first salvo, which had been fired to frighten not kill. Then Silver steered for the coast of Florida, and put the prisoners - who included two women - into the Spaniard's longboat, within easy pulling distance of land. And none were touched nor their possessions despoiled. All this she had seen, and she knew that it was done for her.
Only the Spanish captain - Ibanez - was still aboard. He'd tried to fight, and had been cut down by Mr Joe and sewn up by Dr Cowdray, but had been too weak to go into the longboat with his mates.
And so she smiled and went to the rail to wave at some children capering and dancing on the bank up above.
"That Washington," said Israel Hands softly, looking at Selena.
"Aye?" said Silver, likewise staring at the small, beloved figure.
"Are you really sure that Washington can write letters of marque?"
"It wasn't him. He got 'em from the governor of Virginia."
"Aye… but can he?"
"Clap a hitch, Mr Gunner," he said, and raised his voice, looking at the brig: "Pork and biscuit, wine and salt, fish and rice." He smiled. "And the ship herself, with all her tackles and gear!" Selena heard him and came back.
"Of which a good share goes to the governor," she said.
"Of course. That's what makes us legal!"
She laughed in his face at that, and Silver shrugged. What did he care? She was here with him and not off with Flint. That was enough. She'd come aboard when the ship left Alexandria, fed up with the back stairs and folk treating her as less than them. But to Silver it had been like those days when he was first courting her, aboard this very ship, and before she turned against him. She was still slinging a hammock alone, though, and wouldn't be his wife.
"Cap'n!" said a voice, and Silver jumped. "Cap'n!" It was Israel Hands again.
"Mr Gunner," said Silver.
"Boat's alongside for to go ashore, Cap'n!"
"Thank you, Mr Hands," said Silver, formally.
"And we've swayed the Dago aboard. Dr Cowdray says he's well enough."
"Well and good," said Silver, and moved over to the rail. He looked over the side, and saw the heavily bandaged Captain Ibanez, laid in the stern, made fast to a plank. He turned to Selena, "Will you not come?" he said.
"Like this?" she said, looking at her clothes. Silver shrugged.
"Put women's clothes on!"
"No," she said. "Not here. I was a slave here."
So it was Silver and Israel Hands who met the authorities of the port of Savannah, taking with them Mr Warrington, who, when sober, was convincing as ever in
his role of honest mariner. But aside from passing some dollars to officials who needed help to look away, and getting the Spanish captain a berth in the fort - where the militia had what passed for a hospital - there was little for Warrington to do.
And so to Jimmy Chester's grog shop that had once been Charley Neal's, and before all else inquiring after Joe Flint, who'd not yet arrived in Savannah. Then, leaving Mr Warrington in a happy corner with a bottle and a mulatto girl, the real business was done with Jimmy Chester, who proved to be very like Charley Neal, except he was thin where Charley had been plump. But he had the same skills with money. He could digest a ship and cargo, and make guineas appear in bank accounts far away. So Inez de Cordova was swiftly dealt with, right down to setting aside a share for the governor of Virginia. And beyond that, Chester was deep into politics.
"We used to be a Trustee Colony, and now we are a Royal Colony," he said.
"Oh?" said Silver, bored, sitting in Chester's private room with Israel Hands and a jug and some glasses.
"But we await our first governor from England, and so in the meantime govern ourselves," he said. "And we have an assembly, of which I am a member…" He smiled "… and its president."
"How cosy," said Silver, and Israel Hands yawned.
"So I correspond with other colonial officials… including George Washington."
"Oh?" said Silver, sitting up.
"And I know why he sent you to sea." "Oh?"
"Oh yes! He's acting for all the colonies. We need to know what the Spanish are doing at sea. He's desperate to know. We all are, and so we use who we can to find out!"
"What about the navy?" said Silver. "Washington never mentioned them. Ain't they spyin' out the Dagoes?"
Chester shifted in his chair, understanding Washington's reluctance to mention so delicate a subject as the need for the colonies - occasionally, and of course in the Greater British interest - to act independently…. even contrarywise… to the policies of the beloved mother country…
"Hmmm," said Chester, "you, see, Captain Silver, the king's navy acts on orders from London… which does not precisely share our interests." Chester dismissed this awkward matter with a shrug. "So," he said briskly, "what've you found out about the Spanish?"