John Drake - Skull and Bones

"Colonel?" said Flint.

"What is it?" said Washington.

"Sir, I have been thinking." "Oh?"

"Your appeal to my patriotism, sir…" "Ahhhh!"

"Could we talk, Colonel?"

"Of course…"

And so, in his wish to fund a war chest for his homeland, George Washington found himself alone and unarmed in a dark forest clearing, away from his men, following Joseph Flint, who turned to face him with a nasty, sly expression on his face that Washington didn't like. As yet, Washington was merely angry. He was not afraid, being a big man who cherished the belief that he could deal with Flint if he had to.

But then Black-Ear and his men silently appeared out of the trees, and stood behind Flint, as did Flint's own followers, though with considerably more noise.

"Flint! Black-Ear!" said Washington. "What is this?"

"Colonel," said Flint, "I have explained to these excellent fellows -" he waved a hand at the Mingos "- that your luck is broken and that they should follow myself instead of yourself!" And he laughed.

"What!" cried Washington.

"Shut up!" said Flint, and drew a sea-service pistol from his belt, and levelled it at Washington.

"You contemptible traitor!" said Washington.

Flint laughed again. "Whatever you say, Colonel. But don't cry out…or you're dead."

Click! said the pistol, as Flint cocked it.

"You pompous, uncultured, colonial oaf," said Flint. "You pretentious, ignorant, tin-soldier! By George, I'm going to enjoy this!"

"Pah!" said Washington, and pointed at the Mingos, "D'you think these men will follow you for shooting an unarmed man? Is that how you'd win their respect?"

"Oh no!" said Flint. "Not at all!" And he uncocked the pistol and threw it aside, and did the same with the other that he wore. Then he drew the antler-hilt knife and threw it to stick in the ground, between himself and Washington. "There!" he said. "Will you move first, or shall I?"

"Wuh!" cried the Mingos and rushed forward for a better look. What a fine night this was, and no mistake! They clustered round Flint and Washington, and stared like the front row at the Roman games.

"You bastard!" said Washington, and trembled, for he'd seen Flint's speed.

"Afraid?" said Flint merrily, and stepped back a pace. "There," he said. "Now I've given you every chance." And he grinned and waited in such confidence… that he nearly lost everything, for Washington leapt not at the knife – which Flint was expecting – but straight at Flint himself, with hands outstretched to strangle and mangle and crush.

"WUH!" cried the Mingos.

"Cap'n!" cried Billy Bones and Black Dog.

Only Flint's speed saved him. He was moving as Washington struck, diving to one side such that the huge, broad hands caught his coat-tails not his throat, but even that pulled him over, kicking and struggling, with Washington hammering a fist into his back and the two rolling on the ground, and the Mingos yelling and Black Dog trying to find a clear shot for his own pistols, and Billy Bones pulling him off for fear of hitting Flint, and Flint jamming a heel into Washington's shoulder and Washington punching Flint in the belly and the two gasping and cursing and Flint knowing himself the weaker man, and Washington roaring and hauling himself hand over hand towards Flint's throat and Flint flailing out a hand and chancing on one of the pistols! And Washington thumping an elbow into Flint's chest and Flint aiming the pistol… which split the dark, with a bang and a flash, and the ball went nowhere, and Washington got a grip on Flint's neck and squeezed and squeezed… and:

Thump! Flint swung the heavy pistol by the muzzle and caught Washington on top of the head, the thick butt landing with the force of a hammer.

"Ugh…" said Washington.

Thump! said the pistol, again. Thump! once more.

And Flint was getting up, and swaying on his feet, and Washington lying still.

"Give me a knife!" screamed Flint, eyes white round the pupils, and froth on his lips. "Give me a knife!" he shrieked, and the Mingos sped forward, entranced with the entertainment, each seeking the honour of lending his knife to Sun Face, and Flint snatched a knife, and dropped to his knees and felt for Washington's hairline and put the sharp point to the warm flesh…

"No!" cried Billy Bones, and threw himself down and grabbed Flint's hand, such that the knife wavered and trembled and Billy Bones heaved to pull it clear of Washington's face, wrestling nose-to-nose with his wildly angry master.

"Don't do it!" gasped Billy Bones, in anguish. "Not that! We're seamen, not bloody savages. Ain't it good enough you beat the bugger fair an' square?"

"You blockhead! You deadeye! You swab!" cried Flint, and wrenched free, and leapt up with the knife in his hand and death in his eyes. He would have fallen on Billy Bones, but Black-Ear pushed between them with wide eyes and arms raised.

"No, Sun-Face!" he cried. "The white men come! From the camp! We must be gone. Listen!"

And the Mingos, as one man, raised their long guns, and aimed at the shouting that even Flint could hear now. The white men's camp was roused, and looking for its leader, but Flint was still shaking with rage. He pushed past Black-Ear to get at Billy Bones… and stopped in his tracks, confounded, astounded and doubting the sight of his own eyes, for Billy Bones wasn't cringing as ever he'd done before in the face of his master's wrath. He was stood firm with a drawn pistol in his hand. It wasn't raised, but it was ready, and there was a surly determination on Mr Bones's face that Flint had never, ever seen before.

"Billy, Billy," said Flint, in a mad voice. "Don't ever tell me what to do." And in the unhinged fury of the moment he took a step forward and raised the knife, and positively gaped as – incredibly – Billy Bones cocked and levelled, aiming straight at Flint's heart! They stared at one another. Only God Almighty knew which was the more amazed by what was happening, and neither moved. But the Mingos did. They ran.

"Sun-Face!" cried Black-Ear, and "Sun-Face!" again, because Flint was ignoring him. "Come now! We must be gone!"

And there came the crashing of bodies charging through undergrowth, alongside the shouting of Washington's men.

"What?" said Flint, thick-headed with anger.

"Cap'n," said Billy Bones, "we got to go." He lowered the pistol.

"Go?" said Flint.

"Now!" said Black-Ear. "The whites are bad trackers, but even they can follow when the light comes. We must go… now!" And finally Flint moved, for it was his own deepest, most profound wish to get out of this detestable wilderness and make his way to the coast, and life, and everything that was important.

"Huh!" he said, and threw the knife away, and stared at Billy Bones until the other dropped his eyes. "Lead on!" he said to Black-Ear.

"Come!" said Black-Ear and set off, and left George Washington groaning on the ground where his men soon found him, allowing him to enjoy other adventures: some, of no little consequence, and all thanks to Billy Bones who was soon suffering agonies of self-doubt for defying the man he'd followed like a dog, and still admired beyond all reason.

But even that wasn't as bad as the pain of the pace Black- Ear set through the woods, for it wasn't only the men of Washington's expedition that might be after them. Black-Hair feared far more the Hurons, whose territory this was and who would pursue with skills far greater than mere white men, and would punish those they caught with infinite cruelty.

The first days were the worst. Flint and Billy Bones strained to keep up while Black Dog was near death, for he was older than them and a stranger to exercise of any kind.

"Mr Black," said Flint as the wretched man begged for rest when first they camped for the night, in a cold circle without a fire, for that might have betrayed them. "I appreciate your predicament," said Flint, "and I have a solution."