John Drake - Flint and Silver

Instinctively, Povey glanced astern. He looked at the dark waters. There was nothing following them, nothing coming after them. There was nothing at all… except death by thirst.

16th February 1750 Aboard Walrus The Atlantic

The partnership of Flint and Silver soon took an enormous prize, and it was entirely due to Flint's skill that Walrus was in the right place at the right time, out in the open Atlantic.

He'd explained the way of it to Silver, previously, with a chart spread out over a table in the master's day cabin. Walrus was charging along under all plain sail, in a steady blow, and Flint and Silver and one or two others were crammed into the cabin for a council of war. Flint's fingers flicked over the chart table, pointing and stabbing. Precisely, Flint set his fingertip upon the port city of San Felipe, which lay on the eastward side of the island of Nuestro Santissimo Salvador, facing homeward towards Spain.

"Latitude fifteen degrees, three minutes and thirty seconds," he said. "Longitude fifty-five degrees almost exactly." He frowned. "If we can trust this Dago chart."

"Looks a good 'un to me, Cap'n," said Billy Bones, squinting hard at the chart and rubbing his chin. He pointed a thick finger: "Soundings, bearings an' all. Set out fair an' shipshape."

Silver frowned and peered at the neat, intricate penmanship, but all he could understand were the tritons and conches that the Spanish cartographer had used to illuminate the margins and name-plate of the map. A thick, heavy headache oppressed him, as always when he tried to get an understanding of these fearful concepts of latitude and longitude.

"It's a rich, fat island with a steady trade with Cadiz," said Flint. "And there's a stone fort and a pair of frigates to guard the town."

"So we can't cruise offshore, for fear of meeting superior force," said Billy Bones.

"Aye," said the company, including Long John. That much was obvious.

"Indeed," said Flint, tracing his finger along the latitude of San Felipe and following it far out into the Atlantic. "And therefore, we shall cruise along this line, out beyond the horizon from the port, awaiting a ship coming westward, running her latitude down to make landfall."

The pain in Long John's head became very great. His eyes watered and the chart swam before him.

"Beach and bone me, if I'll ever understand it!" said Long John, for he made no secret of his limitations in this matter. The others looked at one another and Flint sneered instinctively and thought to stab with sarcasm, but the words came out oddly, for him.

"What's ailing you, John?" said he. "It is but a trick, this navigation. A trick such as this old bird might learn." He tickled his parrot, and pulled at her feathers, causing her to squawk. "Why, this poor creature cusses in five languages, which is more than most men can do." He looked fiercely at the bird, and shook it.

"Grrrr!" he said

"Mierda! Coсol Tu m'emmerdes!" screeched the bird. Everyone laughed, and Flint – who never cussed at all – shrugged in embarrassment.

"There, there," he said, calming the parrot. "Poor creature was taught that by ignorant men. It's a trick, that's all, just like this mystery of navigation, which is not a thing to be compared with the gift to put heart into men and lead them forward against the enemy." Flint smiled. "That's the mark of a real man and one whom we admire."

"Aye!" said the rest, for it was not only a handsome compliment but a true statement of Silver's worth. Billy Bones and Israel Hands exchanged a brief glance of amazement, for they'd never before heard Flint say a good word about anyone. Come to that, Flint was puzzled himself. It was the first time he'd ever met a man whom he liked and respected.

As for Silver, he grinned and nodded, and the pain went out of his headache. He smiled and shook Flint's hand in gratitude – to the further amazement of Mr Bones and Mr Hands – and then reached up to stroke the parrot where it swayed and bobbed on Flint's shoulder.

"Ah, you're a fine 'un an' all, ain't you, shipmate?" he said, and the bird nuzzled his hand and gently nipped it with its great hooked beak – the beak that could crack Brazil nuts to splinters.

"Why, John," said Flint, "it appears you have a friend. Are you a rival for its affections?"

"Not I, Joe!" said Silver. "Not for the bird nor nothing else."

Wonder was surpassing wonder for Billy Bones and Israel Hands, not least because the parrot was feared by the entire crew, and the last man that had dared to touch it – when they were alone in the maintop and he'd attempted to wring its neck – was Black Dog, who was now missing two fingers off his left hand.

Meanwhile the result of Flint's unique and tremendous act of kindness was that much of Silver's ludicrous guilt over navigation faded away. Never again did he worry quite so much about charts and quadrants and latitude – at least, not while his friendship with Flint lasted, and for that Long John was deeply grateful.

More tangibly, Flint's simple plan – the thousand-times repeated ploy of the pirate or cruising frigate – worked well. On 16th February Walrus swooped down upon the three-masted Spanish West Indiaman, Doсa Inez de Villafranca, giving a broadside of chain-shot into her rigging to tear down spars and sails and paralyse the crew, like the prey of a striking spider.

From the start, Capitan Jose Martin Ramirez knew that his ship was lost. He'd left Spain escorted by two splendid frigates, heavily armed and manned to guard the cargo under hatches in Doha Inez. Having been separated from these ships by foul weather, he'd been chewing his knuckles for a week in fear of precisely what had now come down upon him. But he was no coward and he fired a musket into the packed mass of savages swarming over the wreckage-strewn rail of his ship, and then he used the long barrel to drive his men into line, like a sergeant of grenadiers dressing the line with a halberd. Then he faced the enemy.

"Para Dios, Espaсa, et Las Seсorasl" he cried – for God, Spain and the ladies! There were six women aboard: wives or betrothed of gentlemen in Santiago. Three of them were virgins, and for any one of the six, he was prepared to give his life, rather than see them despoiled. Unfortunately, not all Capitan Ramirez's men shared this noble sentiment. Some were already wavering, even before the shock of battle.

There came a roar of small arms, and the front rank of the pirates disappeared in smoke, while leaden bullets thumped into the Spanish defenders.

"Fuego!" roared Capitan Ramirez, then, "Santiago! Santiago!" the ancient and holy battle cry of the Christian knights who drove the Moors from Spain. There was a thundering volley from his men, then Ramirez was casting aside his musket and charging, sword in hand, to die with honour if need be.

In the event, he spitted one man – straight through the mouth and out the back of his head – killing him instantly; and he left a lifelong scar on Billy Bones's cheek. But then Bones sunk his cutlass deep into Ramirez's shoulder, hard by the side of his neck, and the brave Spaniard went down spouting bright, frothy blood in all directions.

After that there was some screaming and stampeding and some modest butchery before the thoroughly beaten crew were allowed to throw down their arms and beg for quarter. Long John granted it, and to make sure they got it, he went round with a belaying pin, cracking heads among Walrus's people until they left off cutting throats.

Flint watched him in amazement. He'd have skinned and gutted them. He'd have dug their eyes out. He'd have boiled them. He'd have sliced the skin off their pricks. He'd have… He paused and wiped the sweat from his eyes and the slobber from his mouth. Flint knew that Silver's ways made a whole crew and a sound crew, even if he didn't understand why.