John Drake - Skull and Bones

"Huh!" cried Flint, catching the copperhead viper neatly behind the head, and holding it twisting and lashing and angry. He turned its triangular head towards himself. He smiled into the gaping mouth. He smiled at the needle fangs and the venom that dripped from them. He brought it to his lips and kissed its nose.

"Yeeee-hah!" cried the half-breeds, slapping their thighs, and leering and nudging one another in glee.

Then Flint leapt up -

"Boo!" he cried, dancing round the fire and thrusting the captive snake at first one man, then another, and chasing them as they staggered, falling and rolling, and laughing and laughing and swigging from jugs of the cheap, vile spirit that Flint had provided in such quantities.

"Flint! Flint!" they cried, gap-toothed, sweat-reeking and filthy. Some would pass for white men, though most had mixed blood, some wore feathers, and all had the deep- wrinkled, dirt-ingrained skin that comes from a lifetime of outdoor living and absolute innocence of soap. They bristled with knives and hatchets, and each one nursed a trade- musket in his arms.

Billy Bones stood watching. He stood well back from the fun. He didn't like snakes. They made his flesh creep. And he didn't like the company. They were worse than Indians. Indians smelled different 'cos they were different, but these buggers smelled dirty! They stank like a boghouse on a busy day.

So Billy watched as Flint juggled with the snake: throwing it up and catching it. And he watched as Flint dropped it to the ground and defied it to bite him: dangling a hand before the wicked fangs, and whisking it away before they struck. And finally, with Flint's own timing for the climax of a performance, and with Flint's own charm, and his audience held in his hand… he stood up, dangling the exhausted snake by the tail with the long body barely moving.

"Who shall have the head?" he said, and smiled his beautiful smile.

"Whoooo!" they said, and instinctively moved back.

"You, Lazy Joe?" said Flint to one of them. The man grinned and shook his head.

"Not me! I don't want the fucker!"

"No?" said Flint and viciously cracked the living body as if it were a whip, such that it snapped just behind the head, which flew tumbling and bleeding across the fire, to land neatly in Lazy Joe's lap, sending him jumping up, frantically brushing the hideous object from him, and bringing near- hysterical laughter from the rest.

Even Billy Bones grinned at that, and watched and listened as Flint brought these half-savages under his power, exactly as he'd done with the Indians: because the game was only the beginning. It was the hook to grab their attention. Flint would now apply the leverage of a carefully reasoned argument.

"So," said Flint, tossing away the limp body, "let's talk…"

And Billy Bones marvelled at the way he turned off their laughter, and brought them down, and gathered them in, ready to listen… and nod… and agree… and eventually to kiss his arse should he ask them.

"… because, gentlemen," he confided, "a time will come when I shall need a fighting force of my own. I shall need you, and others like you. In that case, there will be danger, but there will be great rewards…"

Billy Bones nodded, as much affected as any man present, for Billy Bones was cursed by such irresistible worship of Flint that it arose forever from the ashes of despair and the teachings of bitter experience.

Later the same day, Flint alone attended another, very different meeting, in Mr Jimmy Chester's private room in his big house behind the grog shop. Six other men were present, representing between them the ruling class of Savannah, which class was exclusively composed of men on the make.

"Gentlemen," said Chester, "may I present Captain Joseph Flint, a master mariner of some repute."

"Ah!" said the company and smirked. They knew all about Flint… him and his treasure.

"Gentlemen," said Flint, and was introduced to each of them. Then he launched into the carefully prepared story that he had agreed with Jimmy Chester, giving just enough tantalising detail to win their support, and to keep them free of the wicked temptation of alliance with John Silver, should ever he return to the town. They nodded. They agreed. They shook Flint's hand warmly as they left: no surprise, considering the size of the shares they'd been promised… Not that Flint had any intention of allowing them to partake of such shares, but that was one of the things he didn't tell them.

Afterwards, he had a quiet drink with Jimmy Chester, who was much impressed.

"Well, Joe, you've got your consortium and your funding, I congratulate you!"

Flint smiled. "We must guard against all possibilities," he said. "Knowing Silver, he has probably won the support of Walrus's crew. Thus our expedition…" he raised a glass to Chester.

"Our expedition!" said Chester, raising his glass.

"… will need another ship!" said Flint.

"Yes!" said Chester, and smiled. "I must say, Joe, you're an easier man to deal with than Silver!"

"Am I now?" said Flint, and scowled at the thought of John Silver.

"Yes! I knew it the moment you walked in here, two weeks ago!"

"Hmm," said Flint, throwing off thoughts of death and maiming. "And have you arranged for me to meet the… ah… the last and most difficult person?"

"Yes," said Chester. "He'll see you tomorrow at the fort."

"Good!" said Flint. "It would be a pity if all parties were reconciled, except the one that deploys armed force!"

"Just one thing, Joe," said Chester, with a dreamy look on his face.

"Which is…?"

"Is it really that much?"

Flint smiled. "Oh yes! One hundred and ninety-six chests of gold and silver coin, plus four hundred and forty-six bars of silver. I counted them myself."

"God damn my eyes!"

Next morning Flint was strolling round the new battery that the Savannians had built to command the river approaches. With him was Colonel Bland, a professional soldier with a commission from King George. The colonel had command of Savannah's fort, together with its guns, its magazine, and every man who served the king in arms.

It was just like talking to Washington. Bland knew exactly what Flint was offering – Jimmy Chester had seen to that – and he was most certainly interested; Flint could see it in his eyes. But he wasn't about to touch upon the subject. Instead, he greeted Flint with careful formality, then showed him round the fort with a couple of young ensigns in tow, talking only of the coming war with the Spanish, who had ships in the region, and who might at any time fall upon Savannah.

"We have a garrison of four hundred," said Bland, as they walked past a troop of redcoats drilling on the fort's parade ground.

"Indeed?" said Flint politely.

"With another one hundred of woodsmen."

"Woodsmen?" said Flint.

"Light infantry," said Bland. "Civilians, equipped by the king, but skilled in woodcraft. Exceedingly useful men!"

"Are they now?" said Flint, thinking of his own small force of half-breeds.

"And as for artillery…" said Bland, and proceeded with his lecture.

It was only when he got Flint outside the fort, out from under the big Union Jack that floated above it, and got rid of the two ensigns, leaving himself and Flint standing by the new battery, looking down on the Savannah River and the ships at anchor off the town… only then, having looked – hilariously – in all directions… did Bland take Flint's arm and, dropping his voice, utter the words that gave Flint the pain of holding back laughter.

"Is it really as much as they say?" said Bland.

And in that moment Flint knew that he held the town of Savannah by the nose. He would never be better prepared to meet John Silver.