John Drake - Skull and Bones
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- Название:Skull and Bones
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"Are you set on this, Doctor?" said Silver.
"Yes, Captain," said Cowdray. "I had plenty of time to think, when I was secured below, in irons!" He sighed and hung his head. "And I am ashamed that I was struck down, a useless wretch, when Flint came to steal your lady." He looked at Selena with hopeless feelings that he knew could never be returned. Then he smiled a little. "You know, I found myself happy when we sailed under articles, even if they were false, because I wanted to believe in them, but…" he looked Silver in the eye "… Captain, I know that I was wrong to serve Flint, and I know I was a better man when I served you, but I can't live this life any more."
Silver sighed, and shook Cowdray's hand.
"Thank you for this!" he said, looking down at his lost limb.
"You are not a bad man, Captain," said Cowdray.
"Nor a good one, neither!" said Silver, and grinned.
"Good bye, Doctor," said Selena, and she kissed him. Cowdray blushed.
"A-ha!" said Silver, Israel Hands, and Mr Warrington, looking on.
"A-ha!" said the crew, and nudged each other.
"Goodbye, ma'am," said Cowdray.
Now Silver turned to Mr Joe: the clever, talented lad who'd come to them as an illiterate runaway with a violent temper and a cane-cutlass, and was now the ship's best navigating officer.
"And you, Mr Joe?" said Silver. "Shall you leave us, as well?"
"Aye, Cap'n," said Mr Joe. "An' the lady knows why!"
"Oh?" said Silver, and frowned. "Him, too?"
But Selena shook her head.
"It's not me, John." She looked at Mr Joe. "It's him. He doesn't like slavery."
"That I don't," said Mr Joe.
Silver shook his head. "It's a trade, my son!" he said. "A trade, just like any other!"
"Aye!" said Israel Hands and Mr Warrington.
"Aye!" said all the rest, even the blacks among them.
"No!" said Mr Joe. "We are all God's children. From Adam and Eve onward!"
"Hmm," said Silver. "So what're you going to do, Mr Joe?"
"Stop it. Fight it!"
"Shall you, though?"
"That I shall!"
Silver shrugged. "Then good luck to you, lad, for I wish you'd stay among us, I truly do!"
"Aye!" they all said.
"Thank you, Cap'n… And there's a thing I'd ask for to take with me."
"What's that?" said Silver warily.
"A name, Cap'n. Something better than 'Mr Joe'!"
"Is that all?" said Silver. "Why, take mine and be Joe Silver!"
"No," said Mr Joe solemnly. "I'm asking Mr Hands for his name. He who taught me my letters and my numbers, and raised me up." He turned to Israel Hands and took off his hat. "Mr Gunner… may I be Joe Hands?"
Israel Hands gulped and swallowed. He blinked and wiped his eyes. Then he threw his arms around the serious, earnest lad of whom he was more fond than he knew.
"My beautiful boy! My lovely lad!" he said. "Take my name and leave me proud! And if never again I see you on Earth, please God I should see you in Heaven."
So the boat was manned and pulled for the shore, and all those whose will it was to stay aboard stood silent and watched it go.
When it returned, with just two men pulling, they hoisted it aboard, made all shipshape, and set sail in the freshening wind. Within hours they were past the new batteries at the river mouth, which they saluted and were allowed to pass, for they sailed under British colours, and no man had reason to doubt them.
By nightfall, the mouth of the Savannah River was under the horizon, and Walrus was free and the whole world before her. Her people were happy, Mr Warrington was no more than decently drunk and well capable of setting course for Upper Barbados, where Captain Silver planned – so he said – to raise a new crew, new luck, and new riches.
"You're a skilful liar, John," said Selena as they stood together at the taffrail, with the ship heeling sweetly under sail. "Just don't ever lie to me again."
"I told you, my lass," he said, "once we drop anchor in Upper Barbados, then you and I can hop ship, and these lads can find themselves a new captain!"
"Why Upper Barbados?"
"Because that's where Charley Neal sent my earnings, in the old days."
"How much?" she said, and he winked and tickled her ribs so she laughed.
"Ah! You ain't so lily-white pure yourself, when it comes to money."
"But how much?"
"Enough to keep you and me cosy for life!"
"Doing what?"
"Running a business in England, the which I shall buy."
"An honest business?"
"Oh yes. No more gentleman o' fortune! Maybe a tavern? Maybe in Bristol? And how about 'The Spyglass' for a name?"
"Why that name?"
"So's we'll always be on the search… for opportunity!"
And John Silver put his arms around her, and kissed her, and for the moment was at peace, and the great green bird on his shoulder nibbled the ears of man and wife together, and chuckled in contentment.
Chapter 44
Morning, 21st July 1754 Chester's Grog Shop Savannah The Royal Colony of Georgia
"This is Doctor Cowdray!" cried Jimmy Chester. "He's John Silver's surgeon, and was Flint's before, and has Latin and Greek and all the tools of his trade, and is qualified at all the universities of England!"
"No," said Cowdray, protesting, "I am self-taught… Ex uno disce omnes… I learn from each case. My teacher was practice, not scholarship."
But nobody listened, for cries and groans arose from the horrors of the grog shop, which being the biggest public building in the town, and lavishly furnished with tables… was now its hospital, where five whores, three washerwomen, a man- midwife and the fort's horse-doctor were trying to attend nearly three hundred wounded men, some already dead in their bandages, others bawling loudly, still others shivering in pain, and the stink, noise and squalor beyond all contemplation.
"Did you know, Flint locked me up!" said Chester to Cowdray.
"He did!" said the clump of Savannian assemblymen at their president's heel.
Cowdray looked at them, and the way they held their noses, and tried not to see the horrors all around, but glanced constantly at the door and the sweet outside.
"And we set him free!" they said, praying to be free themselves.
"And I was summoned when your boat arrived," said Chester.
"Thank God, you are here!" said the assemblymen.
"Doctor!" said a fat, sweating washerwoman in blood- drenched clothes.
"Our men won the fight, but at huge cost!" said the assemblymen.
"We brought them all here!" said Chester, waving a hand at the rows of wounded.
"There's a boy here won't be stopped from bleeding," said the washerwoman.
"Spanish and English together!" said Chester. "For we are Christians!"
"There's another one here," said the man-midwife.
"Should we heat irons, Doctor?" said the washerwoman. "Is that the best way?"
"Can we leave you now…?" said Chester, backing towards the door.
"… to take command?" said the assemblymen, and fled.
"Doctor!" said a dozen voices, and horrific creatures advanced towards Cowdray: soiled, exhausted and slimy with blood. They looked like ghouls and monsters, but were those few noble, shining souls among thousands – and themselves some of the least in the city – who were doing their best, beyond duty, beyond praise, to save the hundreds of men slowly dying before their eyes.
But… adveho bora, advebo vir… come the hour, come the man, and Doctor Cowdray did what he'd done for twenty years. He sent for soap and hot water. He sent for braziers, charcoal and irons, which would indeed be needed. He cleared a table, laid out his instruments, went round the room… and divided the wounded into three groups: first, those who would surely die and who – in desperate extremity – must be set aside; second, those who would surely live, who were set aside for the present, and third, those whose lives could be saved only by treatment, and who were brought first to his table.
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