John Drake - Flint and Silver

"Have it your own way," he said finally, looking over the ship from stem to stern. "In any case, this ship's too big for our sort of buyer. They want smaller and more handy craft. For myself, I'd have burned her. But this is what we'll do…"

He paused and fished for words. "As gentlemen of fortune, and jolly companions all -" Long John quietly nodded "- we'll strip this ship of whatever we want, and then…" he shrugged his shoulders "… why, we'll let them sail away and take their blasted females with them." He turned and looked to Silver for approval, an incredible act for Joe Flint. "What say you, Long John?"

"Aye-aye, Cap'n," said Silver with a smile and with immense relief, for he would think well of Flint, if only he could. "That'd be the way, Cap'n, and no mistake."

So Walrus's men cleared Doсa Inez of everything that glittered or shone, and helped themselves to everything they fancied in the way of drink and victuals. Israel Hands took some extra powder and a splendid nine-pounder for a bow- chaser: a brand-new iron gun from the Spanish Royal Foundry at Barcelona, complete with a supply of shot to go with it. The cooper wanted some water butts, which he thought held water sweeter than those in Walrus's ground tier, but he was to be disappointed. The men were already tired hauling Israel's gun aboard and they weren't going to raise sweat for mere water. The cooper complained to Flint, but merely got cursed. Flint had pushed the men as far as he dared today, and in a cause he didn't believe in.

As the sun went down over the Caribbean islands under the horizon, Walrus sailed away and left the Spaniards to mend their wounds, to bend a new suit of sails to the jury- rigged masts, and thank the Blessed Virgin for their lives.

They buried their dead too, including the poor creature who'd blown out her brains in a needless sacrifice to her chastity. Conversely, aboard Walrus all was plum duff and merriment, with healths drunk, the fiddler playing, and messes competing to dance under the stars. Flint had found a friend, and thought he'd only temporarily compromised in these absurd matters of how prisoners should be treated. John Silver, too, had found a friend, and thought he'd shown him how to steer a better course from now on.

The friendship, at least, was true. Each man found a vital something in the other that was absent from himself. Together they were stronger than ever they had been apart, and the result was the celebrated career of Captain Joseph Flint – Flint the pirate, for the world saw through such dissembling words as gentleman of fortune.

The most remarkable thing is that so few people ever knew that Captain Flint the pirate was not one man at all, but a symbiotic partnership between two, and the phenomenal success of Captain Flint lasted only as long as the partnership endured.

14th June 1749 Elizabeth's longboat The South Atlantic

"That's the last of the rum, sir," said the boatswain. "Just enough for one tot. And there ain't a great deal left in the water-butt neither. You'll have to talk to the men, sir."

Hastings and Povey were clustered secretively round the empty rum cask, with Oliver, the boatswain – he of the kicked fingers – while the three marines, as ever, faced forward on the aftermost thwart, to divide the officers' stern from the men's foremast.

It was very, very hot, and all aboard were tired, thirsty and afraid. Eyes squinted against the glare. Lips were cracked and dry. The skin lay like brown paper on the backs of men's hands, and – worse still – there was almost no wind. They were as near becalmed as made no difference with the sails hanging useless and the rudder unable to bite.

"What will you tell 'em, Hastings?" said Povey.

"Better make it something good, sir," said Oliver.

Hastings fiddled nervously with a piece of flaked skin on his lower lip, daring himself to peel it off. He blinked and thought, and whispered to Oliver.

"How much water have we left?"

"Dunno, sir," said Oliver. "I don't dare fathom it, sir, for it lays forrard among the hands, and they'll see."

Hastings sighed. He stood, raised a hand to shade his eyes, and looked at the men. They weren't fierce any more. They sat listless and quiet. They were giving up. That was bad. Once they gave up, they'd start dying. Hastings sighed and sat down and reached for his log. It was a little Bible that his mother had given him in which he kept a record of the longboat's progress by scribbling in the margins with a bit of old pencil. He studied it briefly.

"Ah!" he said. "It's Sunday."

"Is it?" said Povey.

"Probably," said Hastings. "I don't know." He turned to Oliver: "Mr Boatswain, will you call the hands together for church."

"Aye-aye, sir!"

"Right, Povey, this is what I'm going to do, so be ready with the rum…"

Aboard ship, "church" meant all hands dressed in best rig and everything ready for captain's inspection. Under the circumstances, those aboard the longboat did their best. They tidied themselves and the boat, and the two midshipmen put on their uniform coats.

"Off hats!" said Hastings, when finally he stood up before them. "We will say the Lord's Prayer." And so they did, the familiar prayer profoundly moving some of the hands, who mumbled the words in thoughts of home and happier days, their faces wrenched with emotion. That done, Hastings asked the Almighty to send them a wind and bring them safe to Georgetown Barbados, or at least the French Antilles, and not to throw them into the pitiless hands of Spain.

"Amen!" said the hands fervently.

"Now then, men," he said, "we've had a run of bad luck, which was clearly due to our not giving a name to this ship."

"Oh?" they said.

"Therefore we shall give her a name, so she can be proud of herself."

"It's his mother's name," said Povey, standing, "which is a damn fine thing, because she's the most tremendous beauty. I know because I've seen her!"

"Ah," they said, nodding to each other.

"Thank you, Mr Povey, you may sit down," said Hastings, and turned to the crew. "We shall name her with a libation. "

"What's that?"

"It's a gift of wine – or rather rum."

Povey handed Hastings a small horn cup which contained the last rum in the boat.

"We shall give this libation to the ship and to the sea, so that it will bless her and bring us luck!"

"AYE!" said the men, touched to the core of their primitive souls. They nodded to one another, in uttermost, fervent approval. It was a sacrifice, and a worthy one.

Hastings turned and poured the rum carefully over the boat's bow.

"I name this ship Constance, and may God bless her and all who sail in her!"

And perhaps He did, for they got a good northeasterly wind within an hour of offering Him the rum.

15th June 1752 Aboard Walrus The South Atlantic

Selena was coming to terms with a very cruel truth. Deep in thought, and idle as ever aboard Walrus, she was on the quarterdeck with Flint and Billy Bones below, while Silver spoke to the helmsman, Tom Allardyce.

When the watch changed, another man took over the helm and Allardyce went below. The new man was not a crony of Silver's and Silver looked around for someone to talk to. He saw Selena and smiled. She'd noticed him looking at her before, and she could see he was trying to make up for what he'd done in Savannah. She was very bored, by then, with nobody for company other than the ship's boys, and they were beginning to snigger and take liberties. As for Flint, he showed less interest in her these days than he did in his parrot. He seemed to have got what he wanted from her, without ever touching her.

And beyond that, like any human creature, she was missing her parents and her brothers and sisters, and she was trying to face up to the fact that she would never see any of them again. Not in this life. Not in this world. Not when plantation slaves could not leave the plantation; and not when a sure and certain hanging awaited her if ever she should return.