Flint and Silver. John Drake

The single word Deposed was written on the fresh side. The same word was on the other paper.

      “What are these?” said Silver.

      “The black spot, my son,” said England. “This is the means whereby the lower deck gets rid of a captain it doesn’t like.”

      “The black spot?” Silver said, grinning. “Sounds like boys at play!”

      “Huh!” said England. “You just hope you never see one handed to you! For it’s a summons from the crew to stand before them and be judged. No man may harm one who gives him the black spot, nor stand in his way as he seeks to deliver it. No man may even lay a hand on one who is found in the act of making a black spot. And as for him to whom they deliver it – why, he must stand judgement by vote of the whole crew, be he even the captain himself.”

      England reached out and took the papers. He held them up one at a time before Silver’s eyes.

      “This one was for Captain Danny Davies who had greedy fingers for other men’s shares. Him they hanged from the yardarm. And this one was for Captain Frenchy Latour, that brought bad luck upon us one time too many! Him we stripped bollock-naked and heaved over the side to see if he could swim to Jamaica from ten miles offshore.”

      “Aye,” said Silver, “but what does it mean?”

      “It means, my son, that we sail under the rule of law on board of this ship. We sail under the rule of law every inch and ounce as much as if we were on board of a ship of King George of England, or King Louis of France, or King Philip of Spain! Their laws is all different, ain’t they? And ours is too, but it is law! It is articles! And that’s why we ain’t pirates!”

      He spoke with such passion and such obvious sincerity that Silver nodded. He’d now heard these same arguments repeated so many times that he was losing the will to fight them; and in any case, nobody likes to think the worst of himself, so even the cleverest man will accept a weak case if it suits his self-esteem to do so.

      “Now then,” said England, “no more o’ this, for it ain’t why I sent for you.” He stared at Silver thoughtfully. “You’re a good man, John Silver, and the crew like you. You know what they call you?”

      Silver grinned. “Aye!” he said.

      “Well?” said England. “Out with it!”

      “Long John,” said Silver.

      “Aye! Long John Silver, ‘cos you’re the tallest man among us, and one o’ the best. You’re a seaman to the bone, and there’s not a man here that would dare to fight you. You’re a man that others will follow.” Silver shrugged, England laughed. “It’s true,” said England. “So here’s the case, Long John Silver. I have it in mind to make an officer of you on board of this ship. You have the natural gift of command, and more than that you know your letters and your numbers, which is as rare among seamen as balls on a eunuch! I shall rate you as third mate and start your education this very day.” He clapped Silver on the shoulder. “What say you, Long John?”

      “Thank you, Cap’n,” said Silver, beaming with pleasure and raising a hand to his hat in salute.

      “Good!” said England. “So what do you know already? Can you steer a course?”

      “Aye!” said Silver, confidently.

      “Then show me,” said England. “We’ll go this instant to the ship’s wheel!” He smiled and led the way.

      “Cap’n!” said the first mate, who was standing by the helmsman.

      “Cap’n!” said the helmsman.

      “Let Mr Silver take a turn,” said England. “The course is north by northwest, Mr Silver, and keep her as close to the wind as she’ll bear.”

      The helmsman waited till Silver had taken a firm hold on the other side of the big wheel with its out-jutting handles, and when Silver nodded, he stood back and left the ship to Silver’s hand, with England and the first mate looking on.

      It was easy. Silver had done this a hundred times before on other ships. He was a fine steersman, keeping careful watch on the sails, and holding the ship true to her course with minimal pressure on the wheel. The task is harder than it seems and few men could have done it better. England grinned. The mate grinned, and word ran round the ship that Long John was at the helm.

      “Would you change the set of her sails, Mr Silver?” asked England, nudging the mate.

      “I’d shake a reef out of the fore topsail, Cap’n,” said Silver. “She’ll bear it, and she’ll steer all the easier.” And when this was done, and Victory did indeed answer the helm more sweetly, there was an actual cheer from the crew, now eagerly looking on.

      “Well enough,” said England. “Stand down, Mr Silver, and we’ll look at the transit board, and you shall tell me its purpose aboard ship and how it is kept.” Again, Silver smiled. He waited till the helmsman had control of the wheel, then stepped forward to the binnacle housing the compass, and picked up a wooden board hanging on a hook. It had a series of holes drilled in it, radiating out from the centre in the form of a compass rose. There were a number of pegs to go in the holes, each peg attached to the board by a thin line.

      “Well, Cap’n,” said Silver, “every quarter-hour by the sand-glass, the log is hove at the stern to find the speed of her through the water.”

      “Aye,” said England. “Let’s say the log’s been heaved, and her speed is five knots …”

      “So,” said Silver, “that’s five knots for a quarter-hour, north by northwest.” And he set a peg in the board accordingly, and looked at England. “For that is the purpose of the board, Cap’n: to keep a reckoning of her course and speed, every quarter-hour, throughout the watch.”

      “Splendid!” said England. “And what happens at the end of the watch?”

      “Why,” said Silver, “the officer of the watch –” he instinctively touched his hat to the mate – “he takes the board and marks out how she’s run – her course and speed – during the watch.” He paused for he was now entering unknown waters. “He marks it out on the chart, Cap’n …” Silver blinked. “Which is all I knows o’ the matter.” His smile faded a little.

      “We’ll come to that!” said England confidently. “But first, here’s the end of the forenoon watch about to be struck …”

      Clang-clang! Clang-clang! Clang-clang! Clang-clang! The bell sounded from its little temple at the break of the fo’c’sle.

      “Eight bells! Change the watch!” yelled the boatswain, and there was a rumble of bare feet on the boards as the hands of the starboard watch ran to relieve the larboard watch, who were now standing down. They doubled to it like men-o’-warsmen because Captain England would have it no other way. At the same time England’s servant came up from below with a big triangular wooden case. He opened it and presented it to England.

      “Cap’n,” he said respectfully, and England took out a complex ebony instrument with brass scales, a miniature telescope, and lenses, filters and other mysterious appendages besides.

      “This is a quadrant, Long John,” said England. “For this first time, I shall instruct you in its use, but afterwards, the second mate shall be your teacher.”

      He nodded at the second mate, who touched his hat respectfully before taking his own quadrant out of its case and standing beside the first mate, who already had his quadrant ready.

      “ ‘Tis noon,” said England. “The ship’s day begins at noon, each day, and at that time we …” England paused. “Long John?” he said. “What is it?”

      Silver was looking at the quadrant. It unsettled him. It worried him. He’d seen officers using quadrants and the like ever since he first went to sea. But he’d never before been asked to use one, and he stared in morbid dread