Maryland -- History -- Fiction; United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
The maudlin scene that met my eyes on deck defies description; some were
fighting, others grinning with a hideous laughter, and still others
shouting tavern jokes unspeakable. And suddenly, whilst I was observing
these things from a niche behind the cabin door, I heard the captain cry
from within, "The ensign, the ensign!" Forgetting his dispute with
Cockle, he bumped past me and made his way with some trouble to the poop.
I climbed the ladder after him, and to my horror beheld him in a drunken
frenzy drag a black flag with a rudely painted skull and cross-bones from
the signal-chest, and with uncertain fingers toggle it to the ensign
haulyards and hoist to the peak, where it fluttered grimly in the light
wind like an evil augur on a fair day. At sight of it the wretches on
deck fell to shouting and huzzaing, Griggs standing leering up at it.
Then he gravely pulled off his hat and made it a bow, and turned upon me.
"Salute it, ye lubberly! Ye are no first-rate here," he thundered.
"Salute the flag!"
Unless fear had kept me sober, 'tis past my understanding why I was not
as drunk as he. Be that as it may, I was near as quarrelsome, and would
as soon have worshipped the golden calf as saluted that rag. I flung
back some reply, and he lugged out and came at me with a spring like a
wild beast; and his men below, seeing us fall out, made a rush for the
poop with knives and cutlasses drawn. Betwixt them all I should soon
have been in slivers had not the main shrouds offered themselves handy.
And up them I sprung, the captain cutting at my legs as I left the
sheer-pole, and I stopped not until I reached the schooner's cross-trees,
where I drew my cutlass. They pranced around the mast and showered me
with oaths, for all the world like a lot of howling dogs which had treed
a cat.
I began to feel somewhat easier, and cried aloud that the first of them
who came up after me would go down again in two pieces. Despite my
warning a brace essayed to climb the ratlines, as pitiable an attempt as
ever I witnessed, and fell to the deck again. 'Twas a miracle that they
missed falling into the sea. And after a while, becoming convinced that
they could not get at me, and being too far gone to shoot with any
accuracy, they tumbled off the poop swearing to serve me in a hundred
horrible ways when they caught me, and fell again to drinking and
quarrelling amongst themselves. I was indeed in an unenviable plight,
by no means sure that I would not be slain out of hand when they became
sufficiently sober to capture me. As I marked the progress of their
damnable orgy I cast about for some plan to take advantage of their
condition. I observed that a stupor was already beginning to overcome a
few of them. Then suddenly an incident happened to drive all else from
my mind.
Nothing less, my dears, than a white speck of sail gleaming on the
southern horizon!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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