Skull and Bones. John Drake

Silver was impressed. But he was cautious too, because maybe this wasn’t the only bargain in the market?

      “Pretty words, milord,” he said. “But just for the moment I’m sending you back among the others. I’ll spare you the irons, but I’m done talking.”

      “Well enough, Captain,” said McLonarch, satisfied for the moment.

      The prisoner went off with Allardyce bowing and scraping behind him, leaving Silver alone with his thoughts, but it wasn’t long before Allardyce came clumping back with men behind him. They burst in without knocking. They were looking for trouble.

      “What’s this?” said Silver. Allardyce looked behind him for support.

      “Go on!” they growled.

      “Cap’n!” said Allardyce. “We must take Himself safe aboard Walrus!”

      “Oh? And is it yourself giving orders now, Mr Allardyce?”

      “Tell him!” said the rest.

      “We must save him,” cried Allardyce, “for he’s the McLonarch!”

      “Oh, stow it!” said Silver. “D’you think I’m not taking him anyway?”

      “Oh…” they said.

      “Aye!” said Silver. “Now get about your blasted duties!”

      “Oh,” they said, and, “Aye-aye, Capn’.” And with that they trooped out, looking sheepish.

      Alone once more, Silver sighed. What he hadn’t told them was that McLonarch was too big a prize to let go. Maybe King George would make an offer for him? Even if he did, Silver knew that he was pressed into a corner and he’d need to be very careful of the Jacobites among his own crew from hereon. Wearily he went up on deck, and found Israel Hands by the mizzenmast, gleefully making notes of the prize’s cargo.

      “Where’s that swab that had hold of McLonarch?” said Silver.

      “Norton?” said Hands. “He’s forrard, with the rest.”

      “Bring him here!”

      “Aye-aye, Cap’n!”

      Norton came at the double, with two men behind him bearing cutlasses. Silver watched his approach, noting the way he darted nimbly across the crowded deck, leaping up the ladder from the waist to the quarterdeck, as if it were second nature to him. And when he was brought up before Silver, who stood looming over him, parrot on shoulder, Norton never flinched. He was a hard case, all right.

      “You sent for me, Cap’n,” he said, and touched his hat like a seaman.

      Cheeky bugger, thought Silver, looking him over. He wore a smart suit of clothes in biscuit-coloured calico and a straw tricorne. By the sound of his voice, he was almost a gentleman, but not quite.

      “Just what are you, mister?” said Silver, and saw him blink and think before making a very bold admission.

      “I’m a Bow Street man,” he said, “a runner. Sent out to arrest Lord McLonarch on a royal warrant.”

      Silver whistled. “A thief taker? A gallows-feeder?”

      “Some call me that.”

      “And there’s gentlemen o’ fortune as would hang you for it!”

      Norton blinked again, this time in fright.

      “Oh, stow it,” said Silver, waving away the threat. “Just look at him there!” He pointed down the length of the ship to where McLonarch stood head and shoulders above all the prisoners. “Tell me what that man is, and why you was sent to get him.”

      “He’s the ‘45 all over again.”

      “How’s that?”

      “What d’you know about Jacobites?”

      “Plenty!” said Silver.

      “And there’s plenty of ‘em left. Even in the colonies.”

      “Is there?”

      “Yes. They raised the dollars.”

      “Why’d he want the money? For himself?”

      “No! He already had the men, but not the funds.”

      “And now he’s got the money he needs…?”

      “He’s well on the way to getting it. And have you spoken to him? Listened to him?”

      “Aye! Never heard the like!”

      Norton nodded. “And he knows all the old families, and the colonels of all the regiments.”

      “Are you saying he could do it? Raise rebellion?”

      “We don’t know. But we fear that he might.”

      “Who’s we?”

      “The Lord Chancellor, the cabinet, and me.”

      “Bugger me!” said Silver. “Precious high company you keep.” Then a thought struck him: “Hold hard, my jolly boy…” He frowned. “If McLonarch is so bleedin’ dangerous, why was just yourself sent out to nab him?”

      “A naval expedition couldn’t be sent for fear of someone warning McLonarch.”

      “Jacobites in the navy?”

      “Perhaps. So I was sent quietly, with five good men.”

      “Only five?”

      “Them…and papers for me to command local forces.”

      “So where are they? Your men?”

      Norton sighed. “Dead or wounded, as are several dozen colonial militiamen.”

      “And what about the Jacobites? How many of them are dead?”

      “I lost count.”

      Silver laughed. He liked Norton. But there was more. Silver put his head on one side and looked at the tough, self-assured man who stood so sure on a rolling deck.

      “Are you a seaman, Mr Norton?” he said.

      Norton shrugged. “I can hand, reef and steer.”

      “Aye! But I’ll warrant you ain’t no foremast hand.”

      “Not I!” said Norton with pride. “I was first mate aboard a Bristol slaver.”

      “Ah!” said Silver. “The blackbird trade? That breeds good seamen!”

      “Them as it don’t kill!” said Norton and saw the respect in Silver’s eyes. But then he wished he’d kept his trap shut.

      “Right then, my cocker,” said Silver, grinning. “Whatever else I take out of this ship…” he looked the prize up and down “…I’m having you!”

      “What?”

      “Aye! ‘Cos I’ve two cock-fumbling bodgers for navigators what can’t find their own arseholes with a quadrant, and I want at least one bugger aboard what can!”

      

      On Walrus’s quarterdeck, Selena smiled at Mr Joe, the young black who’d once been a plantation slave and was now gunner’s mate. He was a slim, handsome man, with a rakish patch covering a lost eye, and was further distinguished by the heavy Jamaican cane-cutlass that he wore in his belt instead of the customary sea-service weapon.

      “Thank you, Mr Joe,” she said.

      “That ain’t no matter, ma’am,” said Joe. “I’ll have your box brought up, an’ if you wants to leave the ship, ma’am, why so you shall!” And Mr Joe stepped forward to send a man for the box –

      “Stand clear there!” cried Dr Cowdray, ship’s surgeon. “Stand clear!”