Historical fiction; United States -- History -- Colonial period, ca. 1600-1775 -- Fiction
"Moon'll be up in an hour.... What if we don't go back to the ketch?"
"You fool, he means to clear out of here on the morning ebb."
"I know that."
"Well? Orders was to row back no later 'n moonrise. It was a favor, to
leave us stay on the beach this long so to stretch our legs and catch a
nap off shipboard--knows we got a bottle too. He wants them water kegs
no later 'n moonrise and the fruit too, though I can't say that's good
for nothing but to make a great slosh into a man's belly, let 'em say it
keeps off scurvy if they like, I won't eat the bloody muck and never had
no scurvy.... Joey Mills, don't be more of a damn fool than you can
avoid."
"A man could hide on this island. He'd maroon us--willingly."
"And him breaking his heart for a year because he's short-handed?"
"But Matthew, he's jumpy here as the Devil in a gale of wind. He's got
no love for the Bahamas. Call him mad, but he means all he says. Could
he get him another vessel good as _Artemis_--ha! _Diana_--and enough
hands for safety, he'd be off and away after his daft dreams to the
other side of the world. He'd hunt for us here, yah, but not long."
"Long enough to find your gandy-shank back'ard end sticking out of a
bush and sink a hook in it. And we'd live on what? Fruit and clams?"
"I seen goat tracks back there a piece this afternoon."
"Luff, you bloody beggar! You're stern-heavy. Got your old arse spread
to a following wind, let 'er freshen and down you go by the head. Tell
you what he'd do. He'd say to that fat swine Tom Ball: 'Down!' he'd say,
and down would Ball go on all fours and come rooting up the whole island
for you like the hog he is."
"You sure to God hate that man, don't you?"
"Two gods he has, his belly and his other purse. Why wouldn't I? Wasn't
it Ball mostly that set me against the Old Man? Begun it the day after
we come into Boston last year, and now I know that him and Shawn was old
friends reunited and Shawn had set him up to it, but then I thought Ball
was an honest cod. Sought me out, he did--come to my house, drank up
with me, praised the wife's cooking, things like that. And begun
dropping little things in my ear to turn me against the Old Man. One
evening he told me Cap'n Jenks laughed behind my back about my--my face,
my mark. Lies, all lies, but it wasn't till it was far too late that I
knowed it must be all lies, and Shawn set him up to it so to win me over
to his God-damned venture. I could run a knife in Shawn, but that Tom
Ball, he ought to be tried out in one of French Jack's kettles--slow,
for the lard.... Suppose we don't go back to the ketch. Suppose we
stayed alive, and sometime an honest ship took us off. You think there's
any place in the world for us now? Boston? Gloucester? Can we go
anywhere and not be hanged? Gi' me that bottle back."
"I was thinking of Virginia."
"Virginia, he says. Her Majesty's law don't reach there, ha? Why, word
of _Artemis_ will have gone all up and down the coast for a year."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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