Authors: Michele Torrey
hispered orders whipped about like fire in a whirlwind—from Josiah on the quarterdeck, from Basil in the waist, echoed from one man to the next.
“Make sail!”
“Aloft sail loosers!”
“Lead along topsail sheets and halyards, jib halyards!”
The deck reverberated with the trample of feet. I heard the clank of iron, coils of rope slapping the deck, the clap of sail as yards of canvas unfurled overhead.
I had no time to wonder how many ships had slipped by, or how big they were, or whether or not they had escaped us entirely, for I flung myself down the compan-ionway to my station at the oar. Timothy was already there, and I slipped in beside
him. There were twenty-three sweeps on both port and starboard, making a total of ninety-two men who grunted and strained as they pushed and pulled to the rhythm of Caesar's drum.
Overhead, still, the deck thumped with footsteps, until finally there was no noise except the deep beat of the drum, the breathing of the men, the groan of timbers, the slosh of water, and the creak of oars. The swaying lanterns cast a sickly yellow light through the masses of glistening, stinking bodies.
And with each beat of the drum, words echoed through my head. Hated words.
Cowardice or deserting the ship in battle is punishable by death.…
I had taken an oath upon the Bible against cowardice. Yet I did not truly wish to participate in this act of piracy, for piracy was no more than thievery and sometimes even murder, and I was neither thief nor murderer. And never had I taken an oath to commit either. It was therefore necessary to appear courageous, fearless, as if I was born to the life of villainy from the moment I first drew breath, while at the same time doing no harm.
Playing this game, this charade, was like dancing atop a dagger while trying not to fall. And the thinking of it caused a churning in my stomach.
0 God, O merciful God.
After the
Tempest Galley
had gained sufficient speed, we hauled our sweeps inboard and rejoined the rest of the crew on the upper deck.
I spent the next hour in fervent prayer. Checking my weapons, the cannon, praying, praying, my prayers like a sour taste in my mouth.
Just then, Basil whispered harshly from the bowsprit, “Not a noise, now. 'Tis time for the cat to catch a mouse.”
I spied the straggler, visible under a half moon, sailing ahead
of us by no more than a cable's length, seeming all alone. Even with most of her sail set, she appeared sluggish, like a plump old woman waddling along. The
Tempest Galley
would be on her in mere minutes. She appeared unaware of the danger lurking off her starboard quarter, unaware of the scores of cutthroats crouched behind the bulwarks or standing in the shrouds, ready to shoot anyone who might be tempted to sound the alarm.
Behind us, there was no sign of either the
Defiance
or the
Sweet Jamaica.
We had outsailed them both.
I hunched behind the bulwarks myself, scrunched between Timothy and Caesar, Caesar's teeth gleaming eerily in the moonlight. Beside me, Timothy whispered, “Not long now, Daniel, and we'll be rich men. It'll be worth it in the end, believe me.” His eyes were wild, rounded, tinged with both excitement and fear. “Pray they're loaded to the gunwales with gold. And while you're at it,” he added, “say a prayer for me as well.”
“Aye. Have a care for yourself, Timothy.”
“You too.”
I wiped my hands on my breeches and fingered the hilt of my cutlass, wishing it were already over, dreading what was to come.
Then I heard the scrape of a boot beside me. It was Josiah, crouched down, his hand gripping my arm almost painfully. “If anything goes wrong, Daniel,” he whispered in my ear, “stay near me. And watch your back.” Without waiting for a reply, he moved away.
“Stand ready, men,” Josiah said softly.
I saw the hulk of a ship looming above me, so close I could have reached out and grazed her sides. I heard the creak of her timbers, heard Josiah whisper, “Boarders away!”
Out from the
Tempest Galley
soared a dozen or more hooks, snagging the rigging. The instant the lines were hauled tight, pirates swarmed aboard the other ship, silent as moonlight.
I placed the blade of my dagger in my teeth and followed— swinging on a rope across the watery chasm, onto the deck, dagger instantly in hand. The pirates had already captured the helmsman and three other men on deck. They were stuffing their mouths with gags, tying their hands behind their backs, weapons in a pile at their feet.
Josiah signaled to several of his men, glanced at me, and then strode to the door of the captain's cabin beneath the quarterdeck, cast open the door, and entered. I hurried after, blinking back sweat, wanting to prevent any bloodshed. Truthfully, I did not know what Josiah would do.
I entered the cabin on the heels of Basil Higgins, Caesar, and Will Putt, hearing Timothy breathing behind me. The cabin was dimly lit, a single candle burning in a glass-encased lantern that rocked gently back and forth. Beneath the lantern was the captain's table. Playing cards lay strewn across the table and scattered across the floor. The captain of the ship sat on a velvet settee behind the table, cards slipping from his hand as Josiah leaned across the table, pistol cocked and leveled at the captain's face. “Surrender your ship.”
There were two others who had been playing cards with the captain. Pistols were aimed at each of their heads as well. A pipe dangling from one of their mouths fell and clattered to the floor.
Upon Josiah's words, the captain blinked, licked his lips, and said in a heavy accent, “Yes, yes. Yes, yes.”
Josiah smiled, stood back, removed his cocked hat, and gave a sweeping bow—whether mocking or not, I did not know. “You are a wise captain,” he said. “Rest assured we shall treat you and your passengers with honor and safety.” To the rest of us he said, “Open up the holds, boys. Let's see what she has in store for us.”
And so we took possession of the
Jedda
without bloodshed, without a shot being fired, and with much pleasantry, if truth be known. My relief was so intense that I felt like singing to the heavens.
The crew and passengers were herded to the bow and kept under guard, while the pirates swarmed over the ship, prodding every cuddy, crevice, and corner for treasure.
I volunteered to stand guard over the crew and passengers, as it was my intention to both protect them from wanton violence and to reassure them. “If you stay still, no one will be hurt,” I kept saying, smiling, hoping they could understand me despite the obvious language barrier. Men, women, some children, most of them dark-skinned—Indian, I presumed—were dressed in bright silks and sleeping clothes, some weeping in each other's arms.
There is nothing to fear so long as you do nothing rash,
I thought.
Several passengers looked European, including one of the men who'd been playing cards with the captain. I pointed at myself and said, “Daniel Markham,” and then pointed at them and asked them their names. I asked them if they spoke English, but they just stared at me blankly, saying nothing.
I wanted to tell them that if they were quiet, the pirates would take what they wanted and leave them safely behind. That it would not do to make the pirates angry. That I would protect them with my very life if need be. But such words would be wasted upon ears that could not understand, and so I gave up trying and just stood with my arms crossed, a pistol in each hand to protect them against rogues and robbers, trying to look tough enough so that none could accuse me of shirking in my piratical duties, of not fulfilling my oath.
I was dancing on the point of a dagger quite well, in my opinion.
Meanwhile, the hatches were thrown open and lanterns brightly lit. Men shifted the cargo from
the Jedda
to the
Tempest Galley.
Chests, barrels, crates—all were filled with finery and riches. There was much laughter, backslapping, grinning, even giggling. One stupid oaf gleefully shot off his pistol, immediately receiving a cuff on the head from Josiah. “Fool!” he cried. “There are more ships to capture this night. And if we do not alarm them to our presence, we can take them as easily as we took this one. Now hurry—there is still much to do, and we must be on our way.”
In the midst of transferring the cargo, the
Defiance
luffed under
the Jedda's
stern, the
Sweet Jamaica
not far behind. I couldn't hear what transpired between Fist and Josiah, but soon after, the
Defiance
fell off the wind and sailed after the vanished fleet with the
Sweet Jamaica
in her wake, sails and towering masts dimly outlined in the predawn light.
The sun was midway up the sky by the time we took leave of
the Jedda,
speeding after the
Defiance
and the
Sweet Jamaica
with all sails set.
Like many others, when I wasn't on duty I fetched a few hours’ sleep on the fo'c'sle deck, exhausted from our night's adventure. Though we had captured a great quantity of wine, Josiah had ordered that there would be no drinking until we finished hunting down the fleet. We were still on battle alert—on the chase—and so long as we were, Josiah had ultimate command, with the power to drub or kill any man who disobeyed.
Night had fallen, and I was asleep on the fo'c'sle deck, curled into a ball, when Timothy shook me awake again. “Daniel. There's something you've got to see.”
I heard a low murmur coming from the waist deck and scrambled down the companionway behind Timothy, yawning, wondering what the fuss was about. A clot of pirates stood near
the mainmast. Timothy wormed his way through the crowd, tugging me by the wrist.
When we reached the inner circle, I gasped.
Bracelets, necklaces, crowns, and scepters encrusted with rubies, emeralds, and diamonds sparkled in the lantern light. Gold coins, silver coins, loose jewels …
“Tis a king's ransom,” whispered Timothy. “We're all bloody rich.”
“Aye,” agreed Basil, who sat gazing up at the enormous pile, his eyes glittering like sapphires. “More than any man could earn in a hundred lifetimes of labor. Two hundred lifetimes, maybe. And this is only part of the booty The rest of it, mates, delicious booty all of it, is below.”
As a body, the pirates moved closer, the circle tight. The heat was stifling, our breathing loud.
I knew I should leave; I knew that this was none of my business, none of my concern. But my feet seemed to have grown roots, and I could no more move than I could fly
Over the next half hour, we watched as Basil divided the treasure. There were many suggestions as to how he should do it: move a ruby from this pile to that one … exchange the giant emerald for the hundred little diamonds … three necklaces were worth one crown. But Basil ignored everybody, did it his own way, and soon little piles emerged.
Then he began calling names, and each man duly came forward, accepting his portion without complaint. Man after man. Timothy went forward when his name was called, holding open a canvas bag into which Basil poured his share. When Timothy came back to stand beside me, to my surprise, tears glistened upon his cheeks.
Then Basil said, “Daniel Markham.”
I turned toward Basil, blinking hard, saying nothing, realizing everyone was watching me.
“Come get your share, lad.”
I opened my mouth to refuse, but nothing came out.
I am not a pirate.…
If you do not take it, they will simply divide your share among themselves. It would be as good as wasted upon rum, gambling, women, and other such wicked debaucheries.…
But I am not a thief.…
Think of Faith, think of her child. You must care for them someday. It is right that you do this. Much good can come of it instead of much evil.
Besides, no blood was shed.…
No blood …
I realized I had stepped forward. Someone thrust a canvas bag into my hands. I held it open, treasure tinkling as the bag grew heavy, heavy …
For you, Faith.