Skull and Bones

Chapter 34

Flint shook Billy Bones awake, clasping a hand over his mouth so he should make no sound. Billy Bones nodded: he'd been well briefed. Black Dog was likewise woken, and the three men, with their packs and guns, silently got up and made their way out of the camp. They hadn't far to go. They'd laid themselves down close to the edge of the camp.

It was dark and the only sentries were Black-Ear and five others: Mingos like himself. They followed Flint. Thus three white men and six Indians vanished into the dense trees. Then there was a pause, while Black-Ear's men silently brought in the remaining Indians: four more Mingos, and four Iroquois, who were close followers of Colonel Washington. They came merrily and willingly, assured that Sun-Face had a new and secret game to play, in the darkness away from the other white men.

And indeed Sun-Face greeted them warmly: Mingos and Iroquois together, and he motioned for them to come close and to stand in his presence, which they did, while Sun-Face smiled and raised a finger to his lips for silence, and drew the antler-hilt knife, along his finger.

"Ah!" he said sharply, and waved his finger as if cut.

"Wuh!" they said and shuffled forward still further, with the Mingos quietly giving the Iroquois pride of place, closest to Sun-Face, and in front of themselves. Flint watched, and saw that all was good, and smiled… and cut the throat of the nearest Iroquois in a single slash, while the Mingos fell on the remaining Iroquois with the skill of a lifetime of ambush: grappling, stabbing and slicing, with tight hands to crush their victim's mouths, and each Iroquois seized by at least two men, so he should make no noise as he fell, nor Flint's victim either, for Flint imitated the Mingos and threw his arms round his blood-gargling victim and hung on hard while he kicked and choked and slumped into death.

Not even a bird awoke as the Mingos laid out the dead, and Flint watched in uttermost fascination as they slid their scalping knives busily round the hairlines, put a knee into each man's chest, and wrenched off the blood-dripping scalps with single, sharp pulls.

RRRRRIP! said the flesh as it tore away from the bone. It was the loudest sound of the entire operation, and even that didn't disturb the forest… But Billy Bones did. He retched and heaved at the sight.

"Shut up, you fool!" hissed Flint.

"Sorry, Cap'n… I can't help it…"

"Just shut up!"

"Aye-aye, Cap'n."

Billy Bones fell silent, but he groaned within.

"Sun-Face," said Black-Ear, "will you fetch Washington now?"

The Mingos were clustered around him, grinning, while those who held the scalps showed them off to the rest, for the night was going well… but they'd been promised a far greater treat. They'd been promised the removal of one leader by another.

"Oh yes!" said Flint. "I'll fetch him. Just you good fellows wait here."

Minutes later, Flint moved through the white men's silent camp. He didn't creep, for that might have caused suspicion. Instead he went confidently but quietly, as a man might who'd gone to empty his bladder in the night, and didn't want to wake his mates. So nobody stirred: not even when Flint knelt down to shake Washington's shoulder, and whisper in his ear. For why should they be suspicious? Weren't the Indians alert for danger?

"Colonel?" said Flint.

"What is it?" said Washington.

"Sir, I have been thinking." "Oh?"

"Your appeal to my patriotism, sir…" "Ahhhh!"

"Could we talk, Colonel?"

"Of course…"

And so, in his wish to fund a war chest for his homeland, George Washington found himself alone and unarmed in a dark forest clearing, away from his men, following Joseph Flint, who turned to face him with a nasty, sly expression on his face that Washington didn't like. As yet, Washington was merely angry. He was not afraid, being a big man who cherished the belief that he could deal with Flint if he had to.

But then Black-Ear and his men silently appeared out of the trees, and stood behind Flint, as did Flint's own followers, though with considerably more noise.

"Flint! Black-Ear!" said Washington. "What is this?"

"Colonel," said Flint, "I have explained to these excellent fellows — " he waved a hand at the Mingos "- that your luck is broken and that they should follow myself instead of yourself!" And he laughed.

"What!" cried Washington.

"Shut up!" said Flint, and drew a sea-service pistol from his belt, and levelled it at Washington.

"You contemptible traitor!" said Washington.

Flint laughed again. "Whatever you say, Colonel. But don't cry out…or you're dead."

Click! said the pistol, as Flint cocked it.

"You pompous, uncultured, colonial oaf," said Flint. "You pretentious, ignorant, tin-soldier! By George, I'm going to enjoy this!"

"Pah!" said Washington, and pointed at the Mingos, "D'you think these men will follow you for shooting an unarmed man? Is that how you'd win their respect?"

"Oh no!" said Flint. "Not at all!" And he uncocked the pistol and threw it aside, and did the same with the other that he wore. Then he drew the antler-hilt knife and threw it to stick in the ground, between himself and Washington. "There!" he said. "Will you move first, or shall I?"

"Wuh!" cried the Mingos and rushed forward for a better look. What a fine night this was, and no mistake! They clustered round Flint and Washington, and stared like the front row at the Roman games.

"You bastard!" said Washington, and trembled, for he'd seen Flint's speed.

"Afraid?" said Flint merrily, and stepped back a pace. "There," he said. "Now I've given you every chance." And he grinned and waited in such confidence… that he nearly lost everything, for Washington leapt not at the knife — which Flint was expecting — but straight at Flint himself, with hands outstretched to strangle and mangle and crush.

"WUH!" cried the Mingos.

"Cap'n!" cried Billy Bones and Black Dog.

Only Flint's speed saved him. He was moving as Washington struck, diving to one side such that the huge, broad hands caught his coat-tails not his throat, but even that pulled him over, kicking and struggling, with Washington hammering a fist into his back and the two rolling on the ground, and the Mingos yelling and Black Dog trying to find a clear shot for his own pistols, and Billy Bones pulling him off for fear of hitting Flint, and Flint jamming a heel into Washington's shoulder and Washington punching Flint in the belly and the two gasping and cursing and Flint knowing himself the weaker man, and Washington roaring and hauling himself hand over hand towards Flint's throat and Flint flailing out a hand and chancing on one of the pistols! And Washington thumping an elbow into Flint's chest and Flint aiming the pistol… which split the dark, with a bang and a flash, and the ball went nowhere, and Washington got a grip on Flint's neck and squeezed and squeezed… and:

Thump! Flint swung the heavy pistol by the muzzle and caught Washington on top of the head, the thick butt landing with the force of a hammer.

"Ugh…" said Washington.

Thump! said the pistol, again. Thump! once more.

And Flint was getting up, and swaying on his feet, and Washington lying still.

"Give me a knife!" screamed Flint, eyes white round the pupils, and froth on his lips. "Give me a knife!" he shrieked, and the Mingos sped forward, entranced with the entertainment, each seeking the honour of lending his knife to Sun Face, and Flint snatched a knife, and dropped to his knees and felt for Washington's hairline and put the sharp point to the warm flesh…

"No!" cried Billy Bones, and threw himself down and grabbed Flint's hand, such that the knife wavered and trembled and Billy Bones heaved to pull it clear of Washington's face, wrestling nose-to-nose with his wildly angry master.

"Don't do it!" gasped Billy Bones, in anguish. "Not that! We're seamen, not bloody savages. Ain't it good enough you beat the bugger fair an' square?"

"You blockhead! You deadeye! You swab!" cried Flint, and wrenched free, and leapt up with the knife in his hand and death in his eyes. He would have fallen on Billy Bones, but Black-Ear pushed between them with wide eyes and arms raised.

"No, Sun-Face!" he cried. "The white men come! From the camp! We must be gone. Listen!"

And the Mingos, as one man, raised their long guns, and aimed at the shouting that even Flint could hear now. The white men's camp was roused, and looking for its leader, but Flint was still shaking with rage. He pushed past Black-Ear to get at Billy Bones… and stopped in his tracks, confounded, astounded and doubting the sight of his own eyes, for Billy Bones wasn't cringing as ever he'd done before in the face of his master's wrath. He was stood firm with a drawn pistol in his hand. It wasn't raised, but it was ready, and there was a surly determination on Mr Bones's face that Flint had never, ever seen before.

"Billy, Billy," said Flint, in a mad voice. "Don't ever tell me what to do." And in the unhinged fury of the moment he took a step forward and raised the knife, and positively gaped as — incredibly — Billy Bones cocked and levelled, aiming straight at Flint's heart! They stared at one another. Only God Almighty knew which was the more amazed by what was happening, and neither moved. But the Mingos did. They ran.

"Sun-Face!" cried Black-Ear, and "Sun-Face!" again, because Flint was ignoring him. "Come now! We must be gone!"

And there came the crashing of bodies charging through undergrowth, alongside the shouting of Washington's men.

"What?" said Flint, thick-headed with anger.

"Cap'n," said Billy Bones, "we got to go." He lowered the pistol.

"Go?" said Flint.

"Now!" said Black-Ear. "The whites are bad trackers, but even they can follow when the light comes. We must go… now!" And finally Flint moved, for it was his own deepest, most profound wish to get out of this detestable wilderness and make his way to the coast, and life, and everything that was important.

"Huh!" he said, and threw the knife away, and stared at Billy Bones until the other dropped his eyes. "Lead on!" he said to Black-Ear.

"Come!" said Black-Ear and set off, and left George Washington groaning on the ground where his men soon found him, allowing him to enjoy other adventures: some, of no little consequence, and all thanks to Billy Bones who was soon suffering agonies of self-doubt for defying the man he'd followed like a dog, and still admired beyond all reason.

But even that wasn't as bad as the pain of the pace Black- Ear set through the woods, for it wasn't only the men of Washington's expedition that might be after them. Black-Hair feared far more the Hurons, whose territory this was and who would pursue with skills far greater than mere white men, and would punish those they caught with infinite cruelty.

The first days were the worst. Flint and Billy Bones strained to keep up while Black Dog was near death, for he was older than them and a stranger to exercise of any kind.

"Mr Black," said Flint as the wretched man begged for rest when first they camped for the night, in a cold circle without a fire, for that might have betrayed them. "I appreciate your predicament," said Flint, "and I have a solution."

"God bless you, Cap'n," said Black Dog, clutching Flint's arm and shedding tears of relief. But Billy Bones saw the look on Flint's face and shuddered. "See here," said Flint, pulling out one of his small pocket-pistols. "It's primed and loaded."

"Loaded, Cap'n?" said Black Dog, with round eyes.

"Yes, my dear fellow," said Flint. "If you place it 50…" Flint opened his mouth, and inserted the pistol barrel, and paused for the manoeuvre to be appreciated. Then he removed the weapon and offered it to Black Dog with a smile. "If you aim upwards at the brain," said Flint, "why, a single shot will see you off without the least trouble."

Black Dog groaned. "But why?" he said with fresh tears, this time unhappy ones. "Why should I do that?"

"Because, Mr Black," said Flint, "if you cannot keep up, you shall be left behind, and if you are left behind you shall be discovered by the Hurons, in which case you will be grateful for so swift and painless a deliverance from their attentions."

Black Dog kept up after that. He staggered and scrambled and wept, but he kept up and was fortunate that he had to run no more when Black-Ear found what he'd been looking for: a hidden place where a small clan had a settlement, with lodges and canoes by a tributary of the Potomac. The clan was equally fortunate, for the men were away hunting, while the women and children fled into the woods at the barking of their dogs, and were saved.

So Black-Ear's men stole all the food in the settlement, and took two canoes, built of birch bark and willow, and caulked with pine-gum. They were neat little vessels: delightful for their lightness and buoyancy and the ease with which even one man alone could drive them forward with a paddle. So all hands went aboard, and they proceeded downstream — with a grateful Black Dog semi-conscious on his back — moving this time, not at a miserable dozen miles per day, but at five or six times that speed on the rushing, living highway that led to the Chesapeake and the Atlantic Ocean. And even when they faced rapids and waterfalls, so light were the canoes that they were easily carried overland to the lower waters, where the swift, easy journey continued.

Moving night and day, they soon came down into the white man's lands, and either avoided settlements or passed through them at night, until the river broadened mightily, and the little canoes had to hug the shallows of the shoreline, and finally — at night — the lights of a small fishing village were visible on the bank ahead. Black-Ear turned and ceased paddling and spoke to Flint.

"Sun Face! This is Morgansville. The place of which I spoke."

"Good! Will there be ships?"

"Yes. Sea-ships. For fishing and trade. But not many."

"No fort? No soldiers?"

"No. It is a small place."

"Then here we must part," said Flint.

Billy Bones watched as Flint's intuition drove him to ceremony. Even Billy Bones knew how formal Indians could be, but Flint had them all go ashore, and drag the canoes from the water, and make a fire and sit around it. There, Flint thanked Black-Ear and his men for their help, and gave each a gold piece.

Then Black-Ear spoke in praise of Flint, and drew a knife, and the two men stood, and Black-Ear slashed his palm, and Flint offered his own hand to be cut and clasped by Black- Ear to mix their blood, and the Mingos sighed and Billy Bones and Black Dog winced.

"My brother!" said Black-Ear.

"My brother!" said Flint.

And Billy Bones saw the unnatural perversity that a man who'd been a king's officer, at ease in the salons of London, and a matchless navigator, mathematician and seaman… was happiest among wicked savages.

But later Flint played the role of civilised man as he led Black Dog and Billy Bones into Morganstown, all three on their best behaviour, affecting mild harmlessness and good nature, and bowing and smiling and paying in gold, and there — by Flint's charm — they were so well received, and spent so handsomely in the one small tavern that next day Flint had a word with a Mr Davison — a shipmaster — such that Flint and his men went aboard Davison's ship, The Merry Jane: an ugly little blunt-bowed lugger, more used to the crab fisheries than the deep seas, which made a slow and lumbering passage out of Chesapeake Bay, and south down the coast of America, much delayed by foul weather.

Nonetheless, in early July she came up the Savannah River and dropped anchor by the town, with Flint mightily relieved to see that Walrus wasn't among the ships moored there, which gave him the chance to put certain proposals to Jimmy Chester… without John Silver being around to interfere.