Pieces Of Eight

Chapter 44

The seamen cheered and even the Patanq stopped their shivering at the cold that came with the mists at the mouth of Flint's Passage. For the moment, there was only delight at the confusion of the three Royal Navy sloops.

"That's them beached and buggered!" said Silver. "That 'un's caught fire and her mate's alongside, a-taking off her people, and that 'un's aground with her topsails hanging! The worst they can do now is send boats, and Walrus's guns can load grape and canister for them!"

All eyes now turned to Silver.

"Captain," said Van Oosterhout, "will you come into the boat with me, or stay aboard? I've a crew going over the side, ready to sound ahead of the ship."

"John," said Selena, "don't leave me! I'm coming with you."

"But what about them navy swabs, Cap'n?" said Israel Hands. "They'll never give up. Not them! We'd best go back and sink the third bugger while we may!"

"No!" said Cut-Feather. "Flint is ahead! We must hurry!"

There was a roar of argument: the seamen for finishing off the sloop and the Patanq for going after Flint.

"Silence!" cried Silver. "All hands pay heed, for here's the way of it. You, Mijnheer, shall lead Walrus into the passage — enough so's we're hid from view and there's rocks between us and what might follow! Then you, Mr Hands, shall take command, and drop anchor while I goes with Mijnheer to catch Flint."

"No!" said Cut-Feather. "We go at once, after Flint!"

"No!" said Cowdray. "You mustn't touch him. Not him or any man of his crew."

"Belay that! Silence, I say!" Silver stumped across to Cut- Feather. "Clap a hitch there, for I'll not be told what to do!"

"We go for Flint! Now!" cried Cut-Feather.

"Now!" roared the Patanq, and Cut-Feather levelled a musket at Silver.

"We go now!" he screamed.

"Now see here, my cocker," cried Silver, "we must come to cases, you and I, for there can only be one captain!" And he seized Cut-Feather's musket by the muzzle and clapped it to the centre of his own chest. "Fire away, you sod! Fire — an' be damned. And then what'll you do aboard ship at sea?"

Silver's life hung by a spider's thread. Cut-Feather's eyes showed white all round the black. His teeth glared. He jabbed hard forward with the musket and squeezed on the trigger… then groaned and looked away.

"Do what you must, One-Leg. But be quick!"

"Well and good!" said Silver, and looked for Selena. "And you, madam, will stay aboard where you're safe. As for you, Doctor — what d'you mean, I mustn't touch him? Are you talking about Flint?"

"Yes — he's been with the monkeys," said Cowdray, "Him and his crew. They must all have the smallpox. It's death to be near them."

Silver sighed.

"So what're we to do? We must stop him…" Then a thought struck. "No, Doctor, you're wrong! He must have 'em shut up safe. For Flint ain't had the smallpox. His face is clear! And he'd not risk his own sweet life."

"Aye!" said the seamen. They knew Flint. His cheeks were smooth and handsome.

"So who's had the smallpox?" said Silver. "Step forward only men what's had it and lived, for they can't take it again."

Four men stepped forward. All had scarred faces.

"Well and good!" said Silver. "That's you four, and me and Mijnheer." He looked at Van Oosterhout's smooth face. "That's if you're with me?"

"I am," said Van Oosterhout.

"And so am I," said Selena.

"Which you ain't!" said Silver. "Now I'm calling for two more hands — good lads in a fight!"

"Me!" said Mr Joe. And then there was silence. A bullet or a blade was one thing, but smallpox was something else.

"One more," said Silver.

"I will go," said Cut-Feather.

"No!" said another voice, and the Patanq opened to let Dreamer through. He was weak. He was unsteady on his feet. But he was upright, determined, and ready with his firelock in his arms. "The nation has lost too many young men," he said. "I am old. I will go."

Uproar: the Patanq begging Dreamer to stay, Cut-Feather insisting on his duty, Selena hanging on Silver's arm saying she'd take her chances, Israel Hands still shouting for an attack on the sloops, Van Oosterhout calling Silver to be quick, and Dr Cowdray, shouting un-heeded advice to all who'd listen — which was nobody — about not touching anything in Flint's boat, not on their very lives.

In the end, Silver had his way. Walrus passed between the misty walls of the passage, her anchor rumbling over the side into four fathoms, and Israel Hands and the rest cheering and waving from the fo'c'sle — except the Patanq, who never waved or cheered. They raised their right hands and stood silent.

Van Oosterhout conned the boat through Flint's Passage. Mist swirled astern, ahead and on either beam. The oars clanked the boat pressed onward.

"I have thought a good thought, Captain," said Van Oosterhout.

"What?" said Silver.

"The ships of the Patanq fleet…"

"What about them?"

"Each is separate, yes?"

"Aye."

"Then he cannot put his monkeys on them all. Yes?"

"Ah! I see."

"So he cannot infect more than one or two. Most of the ships will not be infected… and the Patanq nation is saved."

"God bless my soul!" said Silver in delight, "Good man, Mijnheer! You're right! Damn me, but you're right!" Silver turned to Dreamer, who was staring out over the bow. "D'you hear that, Mr Dreamer? Things ain't so bad as what we'd feared."

"No," said Dreamer, "they are worse. I have seen."

Pah! thought Silver. Bloody savage!

But soon after that, they broke out of the mist and saw clear ahead for three hundred yards. Flint's boat was alongside one of the ships of the Patanq fleet. A block and tackle was rigged and goods were being heaved aboard. Flint had beaten them. He was already there.

And the entire Patanq fleet was lashed together, side by side, bow to stern, into one huge floating platform.

Captain York faced a dilemma. Should he let Captain Flint aboard or should he not? Him and his monkeys.

"I'm Flint!" said the splendidly dressed man in the boat below, coming alongside. And it was Flint all right. York had seen him in Charlestown harbour, and with Joe Flint it was once seen never forgotten.

"Captain Flint! I'm York, sir, Captain of the Lord Stanley…" York very nearly added, Come aboard, sir! but stopped himself. He knew exactly what Flint was, and Flint had four men with him: men like himself, all bristling with firelocks and staring up with hard faces. York was a merchant skipper: a tough man and a rough one. But his crew weren't killers like these, and he had every right to be cautious. "Where's Cap'n Van?" he said.

"Mr Van Oosterhout? He's ashore, sir!" said Flint, and smiled so open and friendly that York was almost reassured. Almost but not quite. "He's ashore, and I've brought out the first tranche of treasure for sharing among you and your crews, sir!"

"Oh?" said York. That was better! "You men there!" he cried to some of his crew. "Rig a tackle and bring them goods aboard!"

"Aye-aye, sir!"

And it was done; the first chest was swaying aboard, and Flint was pouring out smooth explanation of all the good things that had passed ashore, and York not quite ready to invite him aboard, still wondering where Cap'n Van was.

Meanwhile, the Patanq women were in no doubt at all. They were all around York, squealing and laughing, and their children too, for they liked the look of Captain Flint. They liked his fine face and his bright eyes. And they loved the little brown creature he pulled out of a cage in the boat, and cuddled like a baby. The women shouted and called out delight. They summoned kinfolk, and Lord Stanley swayed as more women and children came over the side from the ships moored alongside until the ship was rolling with them, hundreds of them, and hundreds more pressing forward from the other ships until it was one enormous crowd of Patanq women and children, dense-packed, shoulder to shoulder.

After all, that's why York had lashed the ships together. It made it that much easier to share stores, and for the women to go from ship to ship, in their eternal visiting and talking. For they didn't like going aboard boats at sea, not one little bit! In the absence of a proper harbour, and being on the open sea, it was next best thing.

"Ayorka.'" said the women. They couldn't say York, but they tried because they liked him. "Look! Look!"

"Hmm," thought York, and rubbed his black stubble and looked at them as they danced around him, and pointed at the monkeys. They liked him and he liked them. They were such pretty little things, and had smiled so friendly that he'd not been able to resist, and now there wasn't only "Sally" — which was the closest he could get to her real name — but also "Molly" and "Jenny", her sisters.

"Little people!" they screeched. "Like beaver, like baby!" Obviously they'd never seen monkeys before, and were bewitched by them. York grinned and looked at the monkey in Flint's arms. It was a jolly little fellow and no mistake.

"Monkeys, sir!" said Flint, seeing his expression. "Found them on the island. Delightful and quite tame. Will you not take this one aboard? Just lower a line and he'll cling to it and you can haul him up."

"Yes!" cried the women. "Ayorka, bring him up!"

"Hmmm," said York. "Not so sure about that…"

"Go on, Ayorka!" said Sally and her sisters, coming alongside of him, and they wound themselves round him and tickled him, and all the other women laughed, knowing what was going on between them, and York laughed too.

"Get off!" he said. "Bring a line," he said to one of his men. "Let the monkey up!" Flint might be a bloody-handed pirate, but there was no harm in a monkey, now, was there?

The line dropped over the side. Flint reached out for it. He missed. He tried again, and York's first mate spoke.

"Cap'n! Boat pulling out of the passage, sir!"

"Where?"

"There, Cap'n."

York put his glass on the boat. There were four oarsmen, pulling like maniacs. There were two men in the bow, one an Indian. There were two men in hats and long coats — officers, obviously — in the sternsheets… and one of them looked like Mr Van… Indeed, it was Mr Van!

"What's this, Mr Flint?" said York.

"What?" said Flint, reaching again for the swinging line.

"That boat! That's Mr Van on board of her!"

"Ah!" said Flint, catching the line at last. "Good! I'm pleased to hear that!"

"Why?"

"Because…" said Flint, and pulled at the monkey's arms where they clung to his neck. But the monkey wouldn't budge. It cried out.

"Because of what?" said York. "What's a-going on, Mr Flint?"

"Just a moment," said Flint, and wrenched the monkey's arms free. The creature howled in pain and all the women cried out in pity. "Get on, damn you!" said Flint, and shoved the line into the monkey's hands.

Clank! Clank! Clank! The sound of the boat's oars could be heard.

"Flint!" said York. "What's going forward?"

"Nothing, dear sir."

Flint whacked the monkey. It shrieked. It jumped three feet up the rope and sat there hanging on, and chattering.

"Pull him up, dear sir!" said Flint, managing a lovely smile.

"Pull him up, Ayorka!" said the women.

Clank! Clank! Clank! The boat was two hundred yards off, the oarsmen hauling themselves off their benches with clenched teeth and muscles straining, and driving the boat onward at a tremendous rate of knots. York frowned. Something was wrong. Mr Van was waving. The Indian was lying in the bow.

"Flint," said York, "what's Cap'n Van doing in that boat?" "I'll tell you as soon as I'm aboard, sir." "Pull him up! Pull him up!" cried the women. The seaman with the line shrugged and hauled it in hand over hand. He couldn't see no harm in no monkey, neither. So up it came.