John Drake - Skull and Bones

Morning, 20th July 1754 The Savannah River The Royal Colony of Georgia

Silver stood beside the helmsman, raised his glass and looked at Savannah. The town, with its thousands of people, stood high above the deep-running river. It looked the same as the last time Silver had seen it, except that there were new works outside the fort where guns had been placed so as to bear down more easily upon any threat that might come upriver. There were ships anchored off the town, with boats swimming to and fro. Thus everything looked peaceful – and why should it not? Savannah didn't know Walrus and La Concha were coming upriver under British colours… with five hundred Spanish soldiers below decks, to take the town. And all without war being declared.

Silver turned to look back at La Concha, the Spanish brig that had been hiding between Tercero and Quarto islands in St Helena Sound. Now she was under Spanish naval command, flying the Union Jack over Spanish colours, as if she were Walrus's prize.

"Will they believe us, John?" said Israel Hands, who was nervous. Warrington and Mr Joe stood beside him, and Selena too, in the Spanish gown of taffeta that had been found for her from among the store-chests of the Spanish squadron, so that she could appear aboard Walrus as a fine lady, to calm any suspicions.

"Why not?" said Silver impatiently. "Why shouldn't they believe us?"

"'Cos o' them!" said Israel Hands, and looked at the big longboat towing astern of Walrus, and another behind La Concha. "They ain't right. They ain't natural."

"Bah!" said Silver. "Who's going to notice? Who's going to care? Nobody! Not unless there's some bugger up there what don't trust his own mother's milk and sees suspicion everywhere." He sighed. "And how else do we get them Dago musket-mongers ashore fast enough to capture the riverside? It's got to be done quick! We can't go launching skiffs and jolly-boats. Not under the guns of the fort!" He nodded towards Teniente Burillo, strutting the quarterdeck in a greatcoat and straw hat, and a couple of Spanish aspirantes – junior midshipmen – astern of him, dressed the same. "An' they ain't worried, are they?"

Burillo saw Silver's glance and raised a hand to his hat: living out the pretence that he was a mere passenger. Indeed, he was not worried in the least. He was grinning all over his face, full of excitement at his mission, and imagining himself already promoted.

"Seсor Capitбn!" he said, then added in Spanish: "How long till we man the boats?"

"Soon enough, Seсor Teniente," said Silver. He pointed ahead: "There's the anchorage. We shall get as close to the stairs as we can."

"The stairs," said Burillo, nodding. He drew a glass and looked ahead. "I see," said he. "That is how our men shall scale these cliffs -" he pointed at the greasy, near-vertical river banks that loomed up to the height of the mainyard.

"Aye," said Silver, smiling, but speaking English which Burillo could not understand, "'cos they can't fly up, the bastards, can they?" He turned to Israel Hands, and the smile vanished. "And you can take that soddin' look off your face. I've saved all hands by this, my cocker!"

"But ain't we going to do something?" said Israel Hands, and he looked at the hatchways, each of them guarded by Spanish soldiers in seamen's clothes. Below decks there were two hundred and fifty men, crammed in tight, with their arms and ammunition, waiting for the order to swarm into the longboat. They'd planned it, and they'd rehearsed it as a drill under Peсa-Castillo's watchful eye. They'd grown quick and clever at doing it, and with such numbers of them aboard, Walrus was trapped in the Spanish fist, with just enough of her own people still free to work the ship.

"John," said Israel Hands, "we're giving up Savannah to the Spanish."

"Go fuck yourself, Israel," said Silver, exasperated. "Didn't I get all hands aboard? Didn't I argue with that Spaniard when he wanted to keep our shipmates as hostages aboard his ship? Didn't I say it was all or none?"

"Aye, but our shipmates are down below, in chains."

"D'you want 'em banging in chains, and dipped in tar?" said Silver, then he nodded at Selena and Mr Joe: "You two ain't bothered, are you?" he said.

Selena shook her head. "I was a slave in Georgia," she said, "and a slave in South Carolina. And in Virginia I had to come and go by the back door! What do I care about these people? Let the Spanish have them!"

"Aye," said Mr Joe, "English or Spanish, they treat me just the same."

"I know," said Israel, and he placed a hand on Mr Joe's arm. "I know, my lad, and bad luck to every bugger what did you down. But that's the flag of England there," he said, pointing to the big red ensign at the stern. "John," he pleaded, "don't that mean nothing?"

But Silver wasn't listening. He'd focused his glass on the row of onlookers that always crowded the landing at Savannah when a ship came in with a prize. Word would go round and the most powerful and important citizens would shove their way to the head of the stairs to see what business promised. Walrus was coming up to the anchorage now, with the hands aloft taking in sail, and the bosun's crew standing by to let go anchors… and Silver could see faces through his glass now: faces and figures among the well-fed, well-dressed men, with their sunshades held by slaves behind them, and their hats off fanning their faces in the humid heat. But one face – one smooth and smiling face – stood out from all others.

"Flint!" he said.

Flint laughed and chatted among his new friends: Mr President Chester and all those others who clung to Chester's coat-tails at moments like this. They were "leather-apron men" mostly: a locksmith, a baker and a printer. But among them was Colonel Bland.

Then Flint pointed downriver.

"See, gentlemen," he said. "He comes at last!"

"Ah!" said Chester.

"Ah!" said the rest.

And all these good friends looked at the sharp-nosed vessel coming upriver with her prize astern of her, most knowing enough of ships to recognise the schooner Walrus, under command of the one-legged John Silver with his green bird, and his half-share of a colossal secret.

"You're sure he'll have it, Mr Flint?" said Chester quietly.

"Oh yes!" said Flint. "He'll never be parted from it."

And now, there they stood: the consortium united, greedy for gold, surrounded by the innocent chattering folk of Savannah, and glancing from time to time towards the new battery at the very edge of the river bank, where five eighteen- pounders were comfortably seated behind timber-revetted earthworks on planked emplacements, complete with all tackles and crew, bearing directly down upon the anchorage opposite the landing stairs, where any incoming ship would want to anchor.

The battery had been built against the Spanish, but today it splendidly complemented the precautions taken to receive Captain Silver and his crew, who were believed to number some seventy men, all of them desperate villains and armed to the teeth. Against that peril, the garrison's men were mustered out of sight, in the fort, while a most formidable warrant of arrest, drawn up in the name of the Assembly of the Royal Colony of Georgia, was sitting in a leather satchel borne by a little slave boy who stood behind Mr President Chester.

Thus all things were perfect: the sun shone, the flies buzzed and the waters chuckled. And then a little tickle of doubt…

"Look!" said Chester, peering at the oncoming ships. "Walrus is towing a longboat. Why should she do that?"

"Give me that!" said Flint, snatching a big telescope from Chester's slave boy who carried that instrument, among other baggage. "Hmmm…" said Flint, and for the first time he caught sight of the big boat towed astern of Walrus. "Too big a boat for Walrus or the prize brig," he said. "And, hallo… the brig's towing a longboat too!"