Skull and Bones

Chapter 30

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 aboard 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."

"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. Perhaps 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.