Quintspinner (18 page)

“Do you think he recognized us?” Tess whispered fearfully.

Cassie hesitated for a moment before answering. “No. I don’t think so. He has no reason to connect us with being there that day. He didn’t see either one of us. We attacked them from behind. I think we’re safe from him for now.”

Grateful for Cassie’s presence and words of comforting logic, Tess wrapped her sister in her arms, the physical contact of the hug dissolving away the evening’s petty jealousies.

Blood or not, Cassie
was
her sister.

“She looks very bad, nay?” Mr. Lancaster shook his head while poking at the charcoaled ends of the burnt planking of the walls and flooring. “Yessir, very bad indeed,” he assured himself.

William looked around. He felt as though he were on the inside of a weeping blackened cocoon. The beams above his head and the planks beneath his feet were burned to varying degrees. Water trickled and dripped down from several spots along the ship’s side, pools of it gathering with alarming speed in low spots in the flooring. He and the carpenter had had to tread carefully on the many charred planks to reach the burned area of the ship so as to avoid falling through to the deck below. William squatted down beside the carpenter and peered at the damaged section of wall. He reached out and tentatively felt around the burnt perimeter.

“What’s this?” he spoke his thoughts out loud. “There’re two layers of wood here?”

“Aye. You’ve a keen eye fer such, don’cha now?” Mr. Lancaster nodded his approval. He too, ran his hand over the charcoaled edges. “It looks bad, but see here? Like I told ya’, this beauty’s built with two layers.” He ran a hand through his graying hair and sighed.

“Her outer wall’s not yet breached, but will she survive a poundin’ from the seas? That is the question, we ponder now. An’ what do we think, Mr. Taylor?” He again shook his head and gave a sad sigh. “We think not, Mr. Taylor, we think not.”

William tried to focus on Mr. Lancaster’s assessment of their predicament but as the shock of the fire wore off, he felt compelled to find his father, needing to reassure himself of his father’s safety and condition after the fire. John Robert had been among the injured waiting in turn to have the ship’s surgeon tend to their burns, but William could not help feeling alarmed at not having seen him anywhere since the fire.

“Can it be repaired?” he asked, forcing his attention back to the damage.

“She could be saved, perhaps in a shipyard, but not here,” Mr. Lancaster replied. “Not out in the open water.” The carpenter was squatted down on his haunches and he had just reached forward to probe the wall again, when a loud crack followed by a deafening roar exploded around them and a massive object crashed down upon them through the weakened beams from the deck above.

Instinctively, William collapsed into a protective ball, and threw himself back and away from the object. It was over in a second. Recovering, William sprang to Mr. Lancaster’s side, coughing and choking on the new cloud of soot and ash.

“Mr. Lancaster!
Sir!
Are you alright?” William yelled, desperately feeling through the dark cloud for the carpenter somewhere in front of him. His hands butted up against a smooth cold surface. Metal.
Oh Christ Almighty!
It was a cannon, its massive iron weight having been too much for the charred and weakened beams.

Scrambling now on his hands and knees, William frantically groped around and quickly felt a torso. “Mr. Lancaster!” he shouted. “For God’s sake, can you hear me? Are you alright?”

“I’m here, Mr. Taylor,” a trembling voice rose weakly through the settling ash and dust, “but I’m a’ feared this monster’s taken me foot fer itself, it has ….”

The cannon had smashed down through the weakened hull, wedging itself and Mr. Lancaster’s lower leg tightly into the hole it had made, the combination of the two filling the jagged hole completely, like a cork in a bottle. Nevertheless, sea water already slowly seeped in around its edges.

“Pull me clear!” Mr. Lancaster commanded. William grabbed the man under his arms and pulled. Nothing moved.

“Again! Harder!” It was a plea. William braced his feet against the cannon. “No!” Mr. Lancaster screamed. “Don’t budge the cannon. Fer God’s sake! Leave it pluggin’ the hole! Pull me as ya’ can!” William tried again without success.

“Go! Give warning! Leave me here!” the carpenter gasped. “Step to it! We must abandon ship! Board the
Mary Jane!
There’s no time to lose!”

“But I can’t just leave you here–”

“Go!” the carpenter screamed. “Yer wastin’ precious time!”

William scrambled up the companionway stairs shouting to all he saw.

“The cannon! It broke through the hull! We’re sinking!”

“What’s that?” Captain Crowell yelled down to William from the quarterdeck.

“The cannon! The sea’s coming through the bottom! Mr. Lancaster says to abandon ship! The cannon’s got him pinned below! I need help to free him!”

“Abandon ship!
”

The order spread through the crew within seconds. Men rushed to and from the decks below, trampling over each other in a scramble to save what weapons and possessions they could reach. A topman scampered up the rigging to raise a flag of distress on the main mast. Marines lined up along the edge of the ship and fired three shots off in unison, waited five seconds and fired three more.

All prayed that the
Mary Jane
had noticed.

“She’s turnin’!” The yell from the topman was clear. “Ship’s hard alee, starboard side!”

William fought to get through the wall of bodies to gain entrance back down the companionway stairs but was pushed back by the larger men. “Help me!” he pleaded as the crew members rushed by. “Mr. Lancaster’s trapped!” A firm grip on his shoulder caught him off guard and William spun around, finding himself face to face with his father, Gerta tucked firmly to his chest. John Robert shoved the small black kid into William’s arms, and her scrawny legs kicked wildly. Her eyes were wide with fear. Before William could speak, his father pushed past him and disappeared down the companionway stairs. A thin rope encircled Gerta’s neck like a collar and William quickly lashed the end of it to a piece of railing before pushing through the crowd with renewed vigor, following his father to the decks below.

William moved as quickly as he could through the darkened decks, amazed at his father’s ability to move so quickly once again. The man was already far ahead of him.
He’s really healing up.
The thought filled him with a moment of joy. He arrived at the side of the cannon in time to see his father positioned beside Mr. Lancaster.

“Pu-u-uhh!” his father yelled, his eyes pleading with William to understand.

“What?” William panicked. “I don’t know what you want me to do!”

“Pu-u-uhh!” his father commanded again, this time with enough gestures that William understood that his father wanted him to pull on Mr. Lancaster. His father braced his shoulder against the cannon and gripped the ensnared limb with his own hands. William grabbed the trapped man under his arms once again.

“Na-a-ow!” John Robert heaved his weight against the cannon, rocking it momentarily out of its hole. Sea water exploded in and William pulled with all of his strength, falling onto his back as Mr. Lancaster’s limb suddenly broke free of the cannon’s massive weight before the weapon settled back into the hole.

“Gho-o!” his father screamed. “Na-a-ow!”

William struggled to his feet, his ankle sprain throbbing with renewed agony. With Mr. Lancaster’s arm over his shoulders, William dragged him towards the hatch and up the stairs.

“Gho-o!” his father’s voice urged him from behind.

The situation on the level above was total chaos. William looked over his shoulder but could not see his father. Mr. Lancaster was slowly slipping from his grasp and William felt his own legs begin to buckle under the man’s weight.

“Help me!” William screamed, and a burly sailor grabbed Mr. Lancaster’s other arm, propelling both William and the carpenter up the companionway and out through the hatch, sprawling onto the main deck.

Voices screeched and howled in a mixed jumble of commands, and legs rushed by in a blur from every direction, obscuring William’s view of Mr. Lancaster. A heavy foot landed squarely on William’s upper back, knocking the wind out of him as he lay momentarily splayed out on the deck. As he lay gasping for a full chest of air, he could see tiny goat legs from where he was. The poor beast had pressed herself against some rough rigging in absolute fear of the mayhem going on. William crawled over to her, heedless of scraping the skin on his knees open on the planking. Untying the small animal, he cradled her in his arms, and felt her heart beating wildly against her chest wall.

William scanned the area, frantic to catch sight of his father. There was no sign of either him or of Mr. Lancaster in the boiling mix of bodies before him.

“Load on, men! The
Mary Jane’s
alongside!” With this new command, sailors began to swing from ropes on the
HMS Argus
over to the safety of the merchant ship’s deck. William saw horizontal packages swinging wildly in the air, as they were propelled over to the other ship. Squinting at one, he recognized the face and shoulders protruding out of one end of it as that of Mr. Lancaster. William let out a whoosh of air as the carpenter landed on the
Mary Jane’s
deck. He hadn’t even realized that he’d been holding his breath. Quickly lashing the trembling goat to his own torso before taking his turn at a rope, William sent up a silent prayer.
Oh God! Let Da’s arms be strong enough to carry him over this way!
Hanging on tightly to the rope, he hobbled a few steps forward then jumped and swung out between the two ships.

He landed with a thud on the deck of the
Mary Jane,
rolling sideways in an effort to cushion the tiny goat from injury. Staggering back up onto his feet, he looked back at the
Argus
just in time to see her begin her death roll as the incoming sea water changed her ballast, tipping her far over to her portside. The remaining men on board made desperate jumps across the widening chasm, with only three of them having stride enough to reach the
Mary Jane.
William watched helplessly as the others surely plunged to their deaths, disappearing into the churning sea between the ships. The
HMS Argus
followed them within minutes, expelling her remaining cargo into the choppy waters, littering the sea’s swells with her remnants before slipping forever beneath the surface.

Word spread quickly that an unofficial roll call had revealed that thirty-five men had been lost. Clutching the goat like an oversized talisman to his chest, William limped through the crowd of transferred crew, most of whom were already milling amongst the merchant’s ship crew. Some faces were familiar, some were not. His father’s was not among them.

“Da’!
” he called, his voice breaking.
“Da’! Where are you?”

“Mr. Taylor!” The voice was strained but recognizably Mr. Lancaster’s. “Over here! Calm down, boy. Who do ya’ seek?”

William stared at Mr. Lancaster’s bloodied foot. It was crushed into an unrecognizable pulpy mass. “The one they call the Gimp! The one who saved you! Where is he?” William blinked hard to hold back the tears.

Mr. Lancaster’s face softened and he grabbed William’s hand with his own. “’He’s gone, lad,” he said softly. “The cannon rolled back on him when he set me leg free. He never made it outta’ the hold.”