John Drake - Skull and Bones

"But will such vessels last a season or two?" said Washington.

Black Dog pondered mightily.

"Aye-aye, sir," he said. "But no more."

"Good!" said Washington. "And can you, Mr Flint, contrive vessels for the purpose?"

Flint nodded. "Some sort of flat-bottomed sloop or cutter would be needed. Not too big, so they can be worked with sweeps, should the wind fail or be contrary. Vessels of perhaps fifty tons, with a few big guns and a line of swivels." He smiled, pleased with his solution to this interesting problem… and instantly wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

"Well said, Mr Flint!" cried Washington. "The Ohio valley will need your skills for years to come!"

Years? thought Flint. YEARS?

But he had no time to boil and seethe, for in that moment the camp's Indians – gone not an hour ago – came running back through the woods, led by Black-Ear, their chief. A line of black-eyed, eagle-nosed, tattooed men ran with him, swift as birds and silent as smoke.

"What is it?" said Washington.

"Hurons!" said Black-Ear.

"Dammit!" said Washington. "What numbers?"

"Many dozens."

"Strike the camp!" said Washington, "We shall retire at once."

His followers were expert woodsmen, who broke camp, triced up their gear and moved off in loose single-files without another word, with the Indians scouting ahead and covering the rear. The whole formation moved through the woods like the veterans they were, using bird calls to signal to one another, while Billy Bones and Black Dog lumped along like trolls in the middle, to the obvious disapproval of the rest.

As he walked along, trying to be as silent as the Indians, Flint noted this disciplined, skilful behaviour, but noted something else, too. When the Indians came back into the camp, and when Washington wasn't looking, Black-Ear had looked at Flint, and bowed his head, and placed a hand to his heart.

Flint smiled. It seemed that his diligent cultivation of the Indian interest had finally reached the tipping point, such that it was time to bid farewell to Washington's expedition… but not before dealing with the colonel himself…

Dawn, 13th July 1754 Aboard Walrus St Helena Sound The Royal Colony of South Carolina

The sea was calm, the wind fair, and the warm sun rose out of the east from the depths of the sea, eating the darkness and lighting the limitless, rolling depths of the American continent, and the limitless, glittering expanse of the Atlantic, now in beauteous and peaceful mood. All the world was fresh and clean and it smiled to itself as it awoke. And with the beautiful sights came gentle sounds: ripples and breeze and birds; the quiet, morning voices of men, and the soft clunk and chatter of ship's gear.

It was such a moment as makes a seaman's heart tingle and his soul to soar unto Heaven; such a moment as can only be understood by those who have felt the pitiless cruelty of the same ocean when its wrath breaks lofty masts and mighty timbers as if they were twigs that an infant snaps with his tiny hands.

All aboard shared the moment, and stood quietly to their duties, proud of themselves and of their ship, and of their trade, and eager to swell their wealth with another such prize as Inez de Cordoba. Better still, they grinned with the happy knowledge that their captain now knew exactly where to find another prize, since he knew exactly what the Spanish were up to!

"Look!" said Warrington, standing over a chart on a barrelhead by the tiller, with Mr Joe, John Silver and Israel Hands beside him. "The whole coastline here is ragged with rivers and creeks, and with islands close offshore. This one is St Helena Island."

Mr Joe leaned over the chart.

"Is this the best we've got?" he asked. "This chart's old and it's French!"

"Perhaps," said Warrington, "but it is drawn fair and clear, and it has soundings and sandbanks, and all such perils as mariners must fear." He was defensive, for the chart was his own.

"Well enough," said Silver, and laid a hand on Warrington's shoulder. "And the Frogs is fine seamen, an' all. So! Where's them other islands what Ibanez told us about?"

Warrington drew his telescope and swept the seas ahead.

"There!" he said pointing. "And there! We are in mid- channel, having passed into the mouth of the sound, clearing the sands off St Helena, and having two miles of water on either beam. The islands we seek are about three miles ahead."

"Which one is El Tercero?" said Silver.

Warrington blinked. "The French gave them no names…" he said.

"Aye, but the Dons did," said Silver. "See! Working in from the coast… down the north side of the sound… El Primero, El Segundo, El Tercero and El Quarto: First, Second, Third and Fourth." He raised his own glass and looked ahead. "And them supply ships, they anchors between Tercero and Quarto, and waits for the squadron. That's their orders."

"And there's three ships in the squadron?" said Israel Hands.

"Aye," said Silver. "Two ships of thirty guns and one of sixty."

"We don't want to be meetin' them!" said Mr Joe.

"No danger of that!" said Silver. "They ain't due for a week, and Captain Ibanez said they're usually late. Meanwhile, they's out charting this here coast of the Carolinas – this arky-pel-argo of islands – and seeing where big ships can anchor… for to land troops and guns."

"So there is going to be a war?" said Israel Hands. "With Spain?"

"Every bugger says so!" said Silver, and he straightened up, and raised his voice: "Allllll hands!" he roared.

"Aye-aye!" they cried.

"Can you hear me in the tops?"

"Aye-aye!"

"Can you hear me forrard an' aft an' all?"

"Aye-aye!"

"Then listen well!" he said. "Lookouts keep sharp! Guns run out and matches burning! Stand by, boarders! And a double share for him as first sights a prize!" They cheered. Silver grinned. "Quiet, I said!"

"Aye-aye!"

Slowly, carefully, Walrus ran up the sound, picking out El Primero, then El Segundo, and then things got difficult. The shoreline on the starboard bow was idyllically beautiful: first dunes and salt marshes alive with water-fowl, then sandy beaches with dark green forest behind them. That, and so many river mouths that it was hard to tell which was an island and which was not, and the old French map didn't quite show what was really there.

But no man complained. Not when a prize might be waiting just around the next corner. Walrus was king of all the world. There wasn't another ship in this glorious expanse of shimmering water, and no sight nor sound of any other man. This was pure, primeval wilderness, holding no power greater than Walrus's guns and Walrus's men.

"Ahoy, foretop!" cried Silver.

"Aye-aye!" cried the lookout.

"Don't look for topmasts! They'll be…"

He was about to warn that the supply ships would strike all above the lower masts, and hide themselves with leafy branches cut from the shore. That's what Captain Ibanez had said. But the lookout wasn't listening. Not now.

"Fair on the starboard bow!" he cried. "That's my double share!"

"Huzzah!" cried all hands, and they ran to the starboard rail in a thunder of boots and a roll of the ship. Even Selena was among them, and even she was smiling.

"Ah!" said Silver, and raised his telescope. It was just as Ibanez had said. Yards and topmasts struck, and the vessel green with boughs.

"Well done, John!" cried Israel Hands. "This is all your doing!" he beamed.

"Aye!" said Silver. "Ain't it just?"

Israel Hands came close. He spoke soft.

"How'd you do it?"

"What?"

"Get that Dago to talk. He wouldn't say nothing before."

But Silver merely peered down his nose at Israel Hands, and tickled the parrot's green feathers… and looked away.