John Drake - Skull and Bones

"Well?" said Katty Cooper.

"She'll never make an actress. She sings passing well. She dances with moderate grace… and every man in England will fall in love with her! She enchants the eye, she ravishes the senses."

"So?"

"She'll do! Songs and dances can be arranged to suit her limitations, and she should appear in melodramas and spectacles… wearing as few clothes as decency will allow!"

"Good," said Katty. "Then you'll book her?"

"Of course." He shrugged. "And I suppose you'll tour the provinces?"

"Getting letters of recommendation from such as yourself."

"And will descend upon London in triumph…"

"Yes," said Katty. "It will take some months, but I'll do it."

Abbey looked miserable. "And you'll show her off on stage," he said, "then sell her to the highest bidder?"

Katty Cooper smiled with exquisite prettiness, and sighed in peaceful contentment. She nodded.

"Oh yes," she said, "as many times as I may."

Three bells of the afternoon watch 11th June 1753 Aboard Walrus The Thames, England

Captain Warrington stood proud at the helm as Walrus came up the two-mile stretch of water from Rotherhithe towards London Bridge, where the slow, brown river – swept by two tides a day – ran to mud-flats on either hand with ancient embankments shored up by massive timber piles that had been driven home when Queen Bess was a girl. To Walrus's people, the docks and the city they served seemed enormous beyond belief; veteran seamen though they were, they'd spent their lives out of England, and had never seen the like of London town. So all hands lined the rail and gaped as they passed row upon row of quays, wharves, warehouses and cranes, and ships whose number was beyond counting, and whose masts and spars arose like virgin forest.

Thus all aboard were merry except McLonarch and Norton, who were down below in irons: Norton bitterly resentful at his fall from first mate's rank, while McLonarch pretended calm understanding. And all the while, "Captain" Warrington strutted the quarterdeck, and the crew jumped to his orders and raised their hats… for Warrington had redeemed himself halfway across the Atlantic.

He did it during a heavy blow, when Norton was standing alongside Long John in the cramped master's cabin under Walrus's quarterdeck, testing Mr Joe's growing competence at navigation.

Norton had just nudged Silver and nodded at the back of Mr Joe's curly-haired head, as the lad leaned over the table, stepping his dividers across the chart and making neat pencil notes on a piece of paper, calculating his latitude and the previous day's run.

"See?" whispered Norton. "I told you!" Silver shook his head in wonderment. "He's natural born for it," breathed Norton. "Coming on at the gallop."

"Buggered if I could do it!" said Silver, and Mr Joe never even heard, so intense was his concentration.

"A-hem," said another voice, from the hatchway. Silver and Norton turned. It was Warrington, up from his sickbed at last, and washed into some semblance of cleanliness – even his fingernails were dark grey rather than black – though he bore a livid scar across his brow as a souvenir of the fracas that had landed him in trouble.

"Shhh!" said Norton, frowning and pointing at Mr Joe.

"Oh!" said Warrington, then mouthing the word "Captain?" he stabbed a grubby finger hopefully upwards a couple of times, towards the quarterdeck.

"Pah!" said Silver. He patted Norton on the shoulder and clumped out as quietly as he could. Since there was too much wet and wind above for talking, he led the way back to the stern cabin. "Well?" said Silver, getting himself into a chair and pointing at one for Warrington, who licked his lips, blushed a bit, and sat facing Silver.

"Captain," he said, "I have made a complete arse of myself."

"Aye," said Silver, "nicely put, Mr Mate, for indeed you have."

"Yes," said Warrington, "and I wish to apologise."

Silver shrugged. Warrington had the look of a man who would be apologising as long as he lived.

"Please yourself!" said Silver. "I got two men now as can do your work."

"Aye," said Warrington, and sniffed, "but I have something to say."

"Do you now?"

"Yes. That fellow who nursed me when I was… a-hem… ill."

"Jobo? Dr Cowdray's loblolly boy?"

"Yes. He said we are bound for London and told me of your plans."

"Did he!"

"He did, Captain." Warrington shook his head severely. "And it won't do!"

Silver frowned mightily and Warrington wriggled under his gaze and nervously picked his nose, and wiped his finger on a cuff that was already shiny with the fruits of previous pickings.

"And why not?" said Silver.

Warrington took a breath. "In the first place, sir, you must assume that Venture's Fortune has preceded us to England and spread word of a pirate ship led by yourself…" He paused and pointed at Cap'n Flint, perched on Silver's shoulder. "And you, sir, are a man easy to describe and to recognise!"

"Maybe," said Silver. "What if I am?"

"Then you must establish a new identity, sir, for yourself and this ship. A history, a purpose – and all of it backed with papers. You cannot sail into the greatest port in the world like bollocky-Bill the pirate and expect to be received with open arms."

"No?"

"No, sir you cannot! There must be letters, receipts, and a contract from your owner establishing your authority."

"What bloody owner?"

"There, sir! D'you not see?"

"See what?"

"See that you will have to deal with officials and persons of all kinds: Customs, Trinity House, port authorities, tradesmen, guildsmen, perhaps even officers of the law. You cannot behave as you might in Upper Barbados or Savannah."

"Can I not?" said Silver, already realising that he couldn't. He frowned and looked Warrington in the eye. "And who are you, then, what knows so much about bloody London?"

"I was born there, sir! Born and raised, and… a-hem… after other endeavours, I eventually went to sea out of the Port of London, where I am… to a degree… known and trusted."

"To a degree?" Silver laughed.

"Bah!" said Warrington. "I am no saint, sir, and I acknowledge the bottle as my invincible foe. But I know which palms to grease in London's port, and how much grease to apply… and I'll bet my soul that you don't!"

Silver fell silent. He was listening to wise counsel, and he knew it. He reached for the parrot and tickled its warm feathers. She squawked.

"Bet my soul!" she said.

Silver sighed. He took a breath and let out a great shout.

"Sammy Hayden!" he roared. "Pass the word for Sammy Hayden!"

Soon, Sammy Hayden, ship's boy, came running into the cabin, touching his brow and stamping his foot in salute.

"Sammy-my-lad," said Silver, "my compliments to Mr Hands, Mr Joe, Dr Cowdray and Black Dog, and beg them to repair aft to this cabin at their earliest convenience! At the double, now… Oh, and Blind Pew besides, for he's got a head on his shoulders."

The meeting that followed had shaped a new life for Walrus and all aboard, including John Silver.

"A cook!" he cried, aghast. "A sodding COOK?"

The rest howled with laughter.

"Aye!" said Blind Pew, whose idea this was. As he explained in his Welsh lilt: "It's na-tural in the king's service, see? The cook is always such as has lost a pre-cious limb."

"We ain't in the king's bleedin' service!"

"But it'll look right, see? For you can't be cap'n when others is aboard: pilots, revenue and such. And you'll only need to pre-tend to be a cook."

"Good! 'Cos I soddin'-well ain't soddin' cooking!"

"Not you, Cap'n!" they said. "Not 'less we needs poisoning!" And they laughed.

"But you'll be our Cap'n, as ever," said Pew, "when none's aboard than us."