By the Knife Read online

  The major kicked the burnt man with his foot. ‘This one we thought was Carter, but after we put his hand in the fire for a while he told a very interesting story. They came here looking for Carter; they think he is living here in Antigua. He also says that if we let him live he can tell us where the gold is.’

  Peterson looked at David. ‘Do you recognize any of these men?’ he asked.

  David shook his head.

  Back in the office the major told them that a fisherman had seen the pirates come ashore from a small local boat. He had thought they were coming to rob the town and called the army.

  ‘Do you believe all this?’ Peterson asked.

  ‘I do,’ said the major, dropping a small gold bar onto the desk.

  Captain Peterson looked out of the office window. Workmen were arriving at the half-built church, beyond which the sun reflected on the sea.

  From behind him, the army major said, ‘The governor wants to hang the pirates in the square.’

  Peterson turned towards him. ‘I want to question at least four of them. We need to separate them and compare their stories.’

  ‘Very well,’ the army man replied. ‘Choose your four.’

  Peterson looked at David. ‘Go back and pick out four, Mr. Fletcher; include the man with the burnt hand.’

  The pirates were all older than David and had the look of hard men. It was difficult to think who might talk, so David pointed to three at random plus the burnt man.

  ‘Put them in separate rooms,’ he instructed the guards and touching one on the shoulder said, ‘This one you can bring into the office.’

  The man said his name was Rowe and that he came from Devon.

  ‘I’ve done nothing,’ he said.

  Peterson smiled. ‘I don’t care what you haven’t done, Rowe. You are a pirate and you will hang; there is no other future for you, just the rope.’ They sat in silence for a few moments and then Peterson continued. ‘Your only chance is to throw yourself on the governor’s mercy and help me find that gold; if you don’t, one of your shipmates will. The gold is lost to you, now you must try to survive.’

  The man turned his head to look at David and said, ‘Got some nice scars, pretty boy? Carter likes cutting pretty boys like you and when he gets you again he’ll make you scream your guts out.’

  David jerked back in shock and Peterson said, ‘Very well, Rowe, now you hang.’

  The next man said nothing at all, not even his name; he had bruises over his face and his hair was matted with blood.

  Next to be brought in was the pirate with the burnt hand. ‘I told you,’ he said. ‘I want one bag of gold and a trip off this rock. Then I’ll take you to where it’s buried.’

  A burly sergeant tried beating the fourth man with a rifle butt, but all they got was the man’s teeth on the wooden floor.

  As they walked back to the jetty, Peterson said, ‘Well, at least we learned that they were on the merchantman; Rowe recognized you.’

  ‘What will you do, sir?’ David asked.

  He proffered not to talk about what Rowe had said. He still had nightmares about the black-haired pirate.

  ‘I’ll have to take up that scum’s offer,’ Peterson told him. ‘I’ve ordered him and two others taken to the ship in the morning. I’ll sail for this Farmer’s Island.’

  The next morning, however, the Trojan received orders to join the frigate Royalty in a sweep to the northwest. Spanish warships had been sighted and the admiral wanted information. It was not until a week later that they could sail for Farmer’s Island. As he passed St. John’s, Peterson sent a boat into the town quay to ask for another pirate.

  One of the original three had died when the bos’un tried to flog information out of him. The boat returned to tell that all the pirates had been hanged. The governor had held a picnic and the town had turned out to watch the pirate crew’s end.

  The Trojan headed south once more.

  As David walked up the beach he understood why they still called it Farmer’s Island. The mystery of what had happened to the families who farmed here had never been solved. Perhaps now some light would be shed on their disappearance.

  Everything looked the same as when they had last visited the island, just a little more overgrown, a little lonelier.

  Peterson, David and six men walked into the woods led by the pirate and his guards.

  The ship’s cutter had been sent to the bay further south with a force of men in case Carter had returned. As they walked through the woods they startled a flock of brightly coloured parrots, which screeched their way into the sky. The undergrowth was full of broad-leafed plants and it seemed to David that this was a beautiful island he couldn’t wait to leave.

  After walking for some two hours the pirate stopped and pointed to a bank on which stood an old gnarly tree, its roots exposed.

  ‘Under the tree,’ he said, ‘in the bank.’ The earth was soft, easy digging.

  The Trojan’s men worked with a will, the excitement mounting.

  They quickly uncovered the rotting remains of three bodies, the smell making them gag; underneath the bodies, nothing.

  ‘Hang him,’ Peterson ordered and turned back the way they had come.

  ‘Wait,’ the pirate shouted, all his swagger gone. ‘I know where the ship is and the rest of the crew.’

  ‘A Spanish island,’ Peterson said. ‘In the middle of a war with Spain I’m to take an English warship into a Spanish island.’ The officers who sat round the aft cabin said nothing.

  ‘This island is not much of a place, sir,’ said Mr. Charles. ‘Swamp at one end and a mountain at the other. I doubt the Spanish maintain a garrison there.’

  Peterson looked at his officers. ‘Mr. Fletcher, you will once again lead us into the dragon’s den. This time, however, Mr. Charles will accompany you in the second boat.

  ‘I will bring the Trojan as far in as I dare. You will go in before first light. I will enter with the dawn, no mistakes this time gentlemen. I want dead pirates, not dead English seamen and for god’s sake bring me some gold or a pirate who knows where it is.’

  The swamp smelt of rotting vegetation, mosquitoes bit and buzzed, and the heat was oppressive. At first, they saw no sign of a ship, but as they moved further in she suddenly towered above them. The boats separated, one taking each side of the ship; they were very careful not to let the boats bump against the topsides. As David climbed up the ship’s side a picture of the pirates leaping upon them flashed into his mind and the feeling in his stomach, which he told himself was not fear, gripped him.

  It was almost a relief to find the deck empty. They quickly surrounded the hatches and Mr. Charles slowly opened the aft cabin door. The empty cabin laughed at their caution.

  A search of the ship proved her to be abandoned, the hold empty and the foc’sle unlived in. Not even a rat disturbed the silence.

  As the dawn threw white light onto the scene, the sound of cannon fire made everybody jump. They piled back into the boats and clearing the swamp saw the Trojan engaged with a Spanish frigate.

  ‘We have to get back to her, David,’ Mr. Charles called across. ‘I have half of her gun crews in my boat.’ The men pulled for their lives with their officers calling them on. As they crossed the bay Peterson was seen to be trying to get the Trojan alongside the larger vessel.

  They have not enough men, David thought, but they have no choice. The Trojan is outgunned. His heart missed a beat as he saw Peterson leap onto the enemy deck followed by his men.

  ‘Board the frigate,’ Charles screamed. ‘Attack from the other side.’

  As the boat crashed into the frigate’s side, David launched himself into her chains; his men raced him up the Spaniard’s side and over the rail.

  The frigate’s deck was a picture from hell, with people struggling and dying from end to end. The two boat crews combined in a charge across her deck, screaming and slashing with their weapons. Taken by surprise the Spanish crew gave ground.

  The figh
ting became intense. David took a seaman in the neck and then a midshipman of around seventeen years in the back. He crossed swords with an officer and found that after all the years of practice he could take him easily. Blocking the man’s thrust and twisting his sword to one side, David drove the point of his blade up into the man’s chest.

  There were too many; the Spanish crew fought well and slowly gained ground. As they were driven back the Trojan crew gathered together and then on a command from Mr. Charles dropped back onto the Trojan’s deck. As the two ships broke apart, both crews were happy to have survived.

  Some, however, had not survived and many had wounds. As the sloop sailed north, the missing faces became apparent and Captain Peterson lay in his cabin, his life ebbing away. He had taken a boarding pike thrust to the chest and would not see his thirtieth birthday.

  As the officers gathered round his cot, the captain tried to smile. ‘All that effort and still no gold,’ he said and coughed up a mouthful of blood, which ran down his chin.

  Some hours later he died.

  The run back to Antigua was not without problems; the ship had taken several hits to her hull and the ingress of water got steadily worse. The pumps were only just keeping up when they arrived back in Falmouth Harbour. They were ordered into the dockyard without delay and once there the crew were moved off.

  As the men moved all the Trojan’s guns and equipment ashore, under the direction of the dockyard officers, David went in search of Elle.

  She was nowhere to be found. David asked in the laundry; she had told him she had friends there, but nobody seemed to know anything about her. In fact, they looked embarrassed to talk to him. In the end he went to the yard office where he had worked and asked what had happened to his nurse.

  The clerk looked at him in a strange way. ‘The girl went back to her parents,’ he said. ‘Best thing in the circumstances.’

  ‘What circumstances?’ David demanded.

  The man grabbed his arm and hissed in his face. ‘She was with child, man, now be about your business.’

  David sat on a log at the back of the dockyard, with his face in his hands. Suddenly, it seemed everything was going wrong.

  Elle was gone and was probably having his child, who he would never see. Peterson, a man he had much admired, was dead. They hadn’t found the gold and that sodding pirate who had cut him was laughing at them all.

  He remembered the evil pirate grinning at him. ‘Carter likes cutting pretty boys like you,’ he had said. I wonder how much he liked cutting me, David thought.

  Standing up David walked back to the office. Firstly, he applied for some of the back pay he was owed and then asked to see the Flag Lieutenant.

  Lieutenant Pierce had been flag lieutenant to the port admiral for almost a year; the posting was not very exciting but it was safe and comfortable.

  The admiral was in his sixties and left most of the day-today stuff to Pierce. When the marine knocked on his office door and said Lieutenant Fletcher wanted to see him, Pierce at first could not place the name. Then he remembered the young man who had been almost killed by a pirate. The admiral’s wife had at one time talked of nothing else.

  ‘Send him in,’ he called.

  The young man who came through his door was strikingly handsome; even in his somewhat scruffy uniform, he cut quite a figure.

  ‘What can I do for you?’ Lieutenant Pierce asked.

  ‘I would like to ask, sir, if the search for the pirate John Carter is to be continued,’ the young man said.

  ‘I understand, Mr. Fletcher, that you have a personal interest in this pirate, but at the moment the admiral has made no comment on this matter.’

  David took a step forward. ‘I have some ideas that I would like to put to the admiral,’ he said.

  ‘Really, Mr. Fletcher, junior officers cannot rush up to admirals with good ideas.’

  Pierce sounded slightly put out. ‘Why don’t you tell me your ideas and I’ll consider them and pass them on.’

  ‘Sir,’ David began, ‘this is not just a pirate; this man is mad. He enjoys killing; it’s his first motivation. When he cut me it was for his pleasure. A pirate we captured told me that when Carter catches me again he will cut me up good.

  ‘Well, sir, let’s give him the chance. We could put out a story of a cargo of great value being moved through the islands and make sure he hears that I’m on board. I don’t think he could resist the chance to make us look stupid again and to finish me.’

  The flag lieutenant looked somewhat taken aback. ‘Set you out as bait,’ he muttered. ‘We might well catch our fish at that.

  Very well, Mr. Fletcher, I’ll put your ideas to the admiral; you will hear from my office.’

  As he left the room a picture of John Carter’s face as he cut him flashed across David’s mind, along with the usual tightening of his stomach. What had he done?

  After leaving the office David returned to the laundry.

  ‘Look, I know somebody here knows where Elle is,’ he told the people gathered there. ‘I want to get a message to her and give her this.’ He held out a purse.

  For a few moments nobody spoke then an elderly man said, ‘Perhaps her parents don’t want you around her.’

  ‘She doesn’t have to see me or speak to me,’ David said. ‘Just tell her I’m here and I’ll look after her. I’ll send more money.’

  The old man took the purse. ‘I’ll try to find her,’ he said.

  For some days David heard nothing and then two things happened at once. As he walked from the ship with some paperwork he had been sent for, an elderly black woman stepped in front of him and slapped him hard in the face.

  ‘How you going look for Elle when you going go get killed?’ she demanded.

  David stammered, ‘I’ll write a paper giving my money to her if I’m killed.’

  As the woman walked away she shouted, ‘Stupid white boy, if not killed you going take black girl home to your mama?’

  This was something David had not thought about.

  As he stood rubbing his cheek, a marine came up to him. ‘You are required in the dockyard office, sir,’ he said.

  In the office a second surprise. ‘You are to go to the tailor, Mr. Fletcher,’ the clerk announced, ‘to be measured for a new uniform and then to the barber. He has his instructions.’

  The tailor spent some time measuring David from head to foot and longer moaning about rush orders that had to be perfect but quick, quick.

  The barber thought it all very funny. ‘I don’t get sent many officers with instructions to make them look pretty,’ he laughed. By this time David was feeling totally embarrassed and once his hair was cut he fled back to his room.

  He had only just lain down on his cot when the same marine walked through the door without knocking. ‘You are to report to the dockyard office.’ He grinned.

  ‘What about a sir on the end of that message?’ David snapped, but the marine had gone.

  Back at the office the same clerk told him he would be attending a reception at the admiral’s residence the following evening and suggested that he make use of the bathhouse. David hated the little bastard.

  Having bathed and changed his underwear, in spite of the fact that he had only been wearing them a week, David once again hid in his room.

  The same damned marine walked in again and with an even bigger grin said, ‘The flag lieutenant would like to see you,’ and after a pause, ‘sir.’

  As they walked across the dockyard the marine said, ‘You don’t remember me, do you, sir?’

  Looking at him, David said, ‘I’m sorry, no, I don’t.’

  Unabashed the marine, still smiling said, ‘I was in the old Eagle, sir, when we fought that Spanish frigate.’

  David stopped and looked at him. ‘You were the marine who drew that Spaniard off me,’ he said. ‘God, man, you probably saved my life that day.’

  ‘Not really, sir.’ The man’s smile looked embarrassed. ‘We were all very proud of you
, sir, you being so young. That Spaniard was a giant.’

  David shook his hand. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

  ‘Chaney,’ the marine replied.

  The flag lieutenant sat on the edge of his desk and looked David over. ‘The admiral liked your idea and he wants to meet you at this reception tomorrow night.

  You will dress in your new uniform. If this pirate likes pretty boys, we will give him one, what!’

  The plan was explained to him.

  ‘There will be a memorial service for Captain Peterson. He was buried some time ago, but a coffin will be carried onto some sort of stage out by the church they’re rebuilding in St. John’s. The crew will gather round it, you will stand in front where all can get a good look at you.

  ‘Later a story will be circulated about a wage shipment for the army in the north; it will be said that because of the pirate problem the money will be secretly passed to an armed schooner in some bay or other and transported to its destination. Because of the Trojan’s damage, the schooner will be manned by her crew and commanded by Charles. You will go as first officer. What do you think?’

  David thought it sounded like a trap, but did not say so. The idea of a trap might encourage Carter all the more.

  The following afternoon David had fittings for his new uniform, silently listening to the tailor’s complaints about having to work all night for some unknown lieutenant.

  That evening he rode in a coach, with the flag lieutenant, up to the admiral’s residence.

  His new clothes itched and he was afraid to walk properly in case he scuffed his new highly polished shoes. The residence overlooked the dockyard from the far side of the creek and like the dockyard itself was half built.

  Two large rooms were lit with hundreds of candles and a crowd of people mingled, all wearing expensive clothes, crystal glasses in their hands.

  ‘Who are all these people?’ David asked.

  Pierce glanced round the room. ‘Sugar plantation owners and their wives, officers from the fleet and anybody who is considered anybody,’ he replied. ‘Once you’ve met the admiral you can slide off.’

  Firstly, however, they met the admiral’s wife. Somewhat younger than her husband, she swept into the room dressed in a purple gown, which almost covered her considerable charms.