Young Dick

by John Jarvis

CHAPTER NINE

  The crew heard from the land before they saw it. Sea birds’ cacophony of cries heralded land behind the distant clouds, then the earthly smell of rich soils were carried by an off shore breeze. Subtile tacked patiently towards the nearing clouds.

  “Are we well to the west of Batavia? The Captain asked his Navigation Officer.

  “Over a hundred miles by my estimation, Sir; it puts us clear of Dutch interests, but…”

  “…Clear of protection as well; we will have to choose our landing places and contact with the natives well Nav, and your estimations have been accurate so far.” The Captain searched the coastline with his glass. In fact it was the natives that chose when and where to make contact, and they were not friendly.

  Almond eyes assessed Subtile from behind a screen of jungle foliage.

  “It is a warship, not a trader.”

  “Agreed, but it is armed as a trader not a warship, is it not?”

  “That is so, but it sits high in the water, suggesting that it has yet to trade.”

  “The only trade in these waters is ours; perhaps we should make contact.”

  “Would the unknown gains from the trade offset any losses?”

  “I believe they would; weapons, especially cannon, we can always use, plus the sale of slaves.”

  “The round eyes will fetch little; they make poor slaves, unable to accept their status.”

  “And they do stupid things like running into the jungle to escape.”

  Two sets of shoulders heaved with silent laughter and tears filled brown eyes.

  “Tonight then, before dawn, at the hour of inattention, using canoes and blades.”

  “Tonight then.”

  The early morning before dawn was quiet; even the screeches and screams from the jungle had suddenly ceased, so Billings decided to risk a shite while on watch. The only concession he made to his toilet was that rather than drop his bum over the rail and face inboard he lowered himself while gripping the rail with both hands and continue to look towards the shore. While he was emptying he noticed flashes of white disturbing the silvery sparkles on the water. He hauled himself back on board so quickly he almost lost his pants; scores of canoes were rapidly approaching Subtile. Subtile had no beat to quarter’s routine because there was no drum to beat, so Billings rang the ship’s bell continuously and yelled for the first time in his young life.

  “Stand by to repel boarders!”

  Subtile sprang to life.

  It was the swivel guns that had been loaded and their matches kept glowing that gave Subtile the hint of a chance. Their grape shot slammed into the lead canoes, causing death and dismay as the following canoes collided. The port swivel gunners quickly unshipped their pieces and retired to reload them on the starboard rail. This allowed the starboard gunners to slot in their pieces and fire down onto the canoes alongside Subtile and beneath the depressions of the six pounders. Richard manned the starboard stern gun. As the pirates swarmed up and over Subtile’s side Richard aimed his piece at an approaching canoe to avoid endangering his own crew. The hail of shot decimated the canoe’s crew and the survivors swam towards Subtile, their wicked-looking krisses held in their teeth. All but one: a young boy tugged in vain at the rope that secured his leg iron to the canoe as it began to sink. Richard looked inboard. The pirates’ plan had been to quickly overpower the night watch and secure the hatches, giving them control of Subtile and imprisoning the remainder of the crew. This initiative had now been lost and the crew’s firepower was turning the battle. Richard made a quick decision: he was of little use in hand to hand fighting and his swivel gun could not be deployed without endangering his crew, so he dived into the warm tropical waters. As his head cleared the surface Richard realized he could not swim, but the sinking canoe was only a yard away. He splashed his way there, cut the rope with his knife and promptly began to drown. The rescuer became the rescued as the boy grasped Richard under his arms and kicked towards the ship’s side. The pirates had given up their unequal contest and had dived over board to swim for their remaining canoes. Friendly hands hauled Richard and the boy up a bosun’s ladder and into the safety of the ship. The six pounders finally had their say, spraying hot lead into the retreating pirates.

  “You may stand down and clean yourself up, Billings,” sneered Smyth, “I believe you have shite yourself!” Subtile then began to count the butcher’s bill.

  Richard looked at the boy, shivering not from the dawn’s cool air but of fright, and made a decision. Pointing at the boy’s leg iron, he mimed opening it and signaled for the lad to follow him. The boy hesitated at entering the bowels of a barbarian craft but decided loosing the leg iron was worth the risk. He followed Richard below to the gun deck where the ship’s ironsmith was collecting and assessing the pirates’ captured weapons. He took a quick look at the manacle and made an even quicker strike at the securing pin causing the iron to clang to the deck, then resumed his evaluations. Richard led the boy back on deck intending to present him to the Captain; the boy was the only live survivor. As soon as they cleared the hatchway the boy rushed to the rail and jumped up ready to dive overboard. Richard heard several firearms click to full cock.

  “Hold your fire!” Richard yelled and the crew obeyed, unsure how much authority Richard wielded. The scene froze with the crew keeping the boy in their sights and Richard unsure what to do next, he could see the sinews standing out behind the boy’s knees and his Achilles tendons stretched, then the boy quickly jumped back to the deck and pointed to the sea. The crew joined Richard and the boy at the rail and saw the reason for the lad’s reluctance to escape: the surface of the water was broiling, floating bodies were being dragged beneath the surface to be replaced by red blossoms, and the slower of the pirate swimmers screamed as they were bitten to pieces. The sharks had arrived for an early breakfast.

  “Well, young Dick, it seems we have a guest who has been unwilling to help the pirates; take him below and feed him – he could do with a lot more flesh – then see if you can gain any information about where we are, and more importantly, where the pirates are,” the Captain ordered. Food was a problem despite the boy’s obvious hunger: it was a matter of smell. The boy gagged at any offer of meat or biscuit but fell on yesterday’s fresh fish and bread. The water was a must have, but he seemed less than impressed with its quality. Later they called in on the Purser to collect paper and a charcoal stick.

  “See here, young Digby, we have much work to complete on the ship’s accounts…”

  “Sorry Purse, Captain’s orders, must be off,” Richard cut the astonished Purser short. ‘Dammed impertinence!’ thought the Purser, ‘the lad is obviously growing up and his testicles down.’

  Captain’s orders could not exclude Richard from his medical duties because the doctor needed all the assistants he could muster. The scene in the sick bay resembled a slaughter shed with badly wounded men writhing in pain and others silent in death. Five crewmembers had died when the pirates had swarmed over the rail, unable to combat the deadly long knives, but their lives were not lost in vain. The short delay the pirates encountered in cutting down their initial resistance had allowed crewmates time to deploy and discharge their muskets. Boarding pikes presented a further formidable barrier until a second volley of musketry had turned the tide. The dead were left alone, awaiting their hammock-shrouds: they had bled out on the deck above and did not add to the blood and gore of the wounded. The doctor had never treated such horrific cuts before: cutlass or sword wounds were seldom deep and initially fatal, but the pirates’ krisses had severed through both flesh and bone, causing massive losses of blood. The doctor could not replace blood but worked frantically to staunch the wounds with tourniquets, pads and bandages. Cleaning and stitching would come later. Richard helped dress the wounds as he had been shown, and the boy fetched hot water from the galley. Working to help their shipmates endeared the lad to the crew, and they began to treat him as one of their own. Finally, Richard and the boy were allowed
to stand down and dragged themselves to their bunks; the boy took Richard’s old bunk and both youngsters fell asleep, the paper and charcoal tip falling to the deck. Jamie looked in on them later and smiled at the innocent sleep of the young.

  The boy from Borneo, as he was now called by the crew, awoke to another bad smell, that of an oil lamp. Richard had lit one and hung it over his bunk to illuminate his paper. The boy joined him in the bunk, eager to learn everything; there was barely enough room for the two of them. Richard pointed to himself and said solemnly, “Dick,” then pointed to the boy who pointed to himself and replied solemnly, “Saka,” then burst into laughter. Richard had to join in, and then busied himself with the charcoal pen. When he had finished, he showed a drawing to Saka of the pirates, then pointed to where his leg irons had been. Saka nodded and, taking the paper, drew a picture of a village and mimed the pirates attacking it and taking prisoners, then pointed to him. Richard then drew a sketch of Subtile and the surrounding coastline, then pointed to the village and traced his fingers around the coast. Saka frowned in concentration and then, taking the paper painstakingly, drew the outline of a large island, made a cross on the opposite side and pointed to the village. Richard gave a clap of delight, and the boy almost jumped out of the bunk in fright. Richard patted Saka’s arm, then mimed a silent clap and smiled, and then hands on hips and frowned. Saka nodded and clapped his hands. ‘So far so good.’ thought Richard, then pointed to the pirates and traced his finger along the coast in the opposite direction. Saka stopped him on the opposite side of the island from his village and, taking the paper, made an elaborate drawing on the reverse side. It took him half an hour, but when he had finished it was a masterpiece of detail. The pirates’ base was in a harbor protected by a small peninsular on one side and steep hills that dropped vertically into the harbor on the other. Two cannons were sited on the peninsular and three large ships were moored ships alongside a jetty. Other small fishing boats dotted the harbor.

  ‘Now for the hard part,’ thought Richard, began to count the five pirates on the paper using his fingers and then kept counting on. Saka caught on, and closing his eyes, added a series of dots that filled the paper.

  “Damn,” said Richard: there were more than a hundred and seventy. Saka smiled and, using a damp finger, rubbed out thirty of them and drew his blackened finger across his throat. “Well, we may have killed some of them but that still leaves us well short,” grumbled Richard. Saka seemed to understand and, pointing to the village, drew a line across the island to the pirates’ den; he then counted the villages: the count came to fifty. “Getting there,” he said, and then had an idea. Taking Saka and the paper, he sought out the Purser in his office.

  “Come to return the paper have you?” the Purser barked.

  “Well, erm, no Sir, but I wondered if you could show Saka here some of our gold.”

  “What! I am no sucker young man and will do no such thing; he might tell his heathen cannibals and have them try and steal it, what?”

  “It is just that he might know where there is some stashed Sir, that’s all,” Richard replied.

  “What, why did you not say so then?” The Purser made much out of selecting a key from the dozens on his ring and grandly opened a metal lined drawer in his desk. He withdrew four gold doubloons and placed them reverently on the desk. Richard pointed to the gold and then at the island;Saka did not hesitate and indicated a large pile in the pirates’ lair. Richard had much to report to his Captain.