"Well enough, Mr Bones," he proclaimed. "What course, helmsman?"
"A point north o' southeast, Cap'n."
"Well enough," repeated Flint. Billy Bones could see the satisfaction on his captain's face.
He grinned to himself, for he knew exactly what was making Flint so sweet. Billy Bones thought what he'd like to give that little piece of black mischief, if only he could get his hands on her, and never a doubt but that the Cap'n was giving her just the same. Billy Bones imagined the high, jutting breasts and the swell of her black rump from the slender waist, and he cursed hard and silently to himself, and wished mightily that it was himself doing the work and not Flint.
"Ah, John!" said Flint, as the hulking figure of Silver emerged from the quarterdeck hatchway. "Come and keep me company. I feel the need for honest conversation."
"Aye-aye, sir!" said Silver with that eternal cheerfulness that turned Billy Bones's stomach. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't the Cap'n have honest conversation with Billy Bones? Weren't he an honest man?
And so the happy moment was broken, and Billy Bones suffered the bitter jealousy of a child whose best friend has been taken away by another. For Billy Bones loved Flint. He loved him as a son loves his father or a patriot loves his country. He was sunk in awe for Flint's cleverness and his quickness and his terrible ability to strike fear into the hearts of men. And since Billy Bones's admiration of Flint was without end, he didn't mind that Flint treated him like a donkey, because such a man would do that to anyone.
What Billy Bones did mind, was the easy equality with which Flint treated John Silver. As far as Billy Bones could see, there wasn't anything that Silver did that merited this, and Billy Bones sneered. But he turned his head away to do it, and walked to the rail and stared into the sea, that his expression might not be noticed.
"Now where have you been these days past, John?" said Flint.
"Enjoying my shore leave, Cap'n," said Silver. "And doing it in those ways that the tradition of our trade requires!"
Flint laughed. "And myself busy all the while, in action against Neal the Irishman, making the best of our business."
"And yourself the best man of us to do it," said Silver. They both laughed and Billy Bones ground his teeth to see the friendship between them, and the obvious pleasure that each took in the other's company. But then there was a stirring and a whispering and a curious murmuring among the hands.
"Bugger… me… tight!" said the helmsman, each word forced out between gritted teeth. Billy Bones turned to see the cause of this.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" he said, turning piously to religion in the extremity of his emotion, for he saw that Flint's black girl had come up on deck and was standing, holding on to a rack of belaying pins on the weather side to keep her footing, which she couldn't do without hanging on, what with her being a landsman… lands woman, rather.
She had her hair bound up in a silk handkerchief of deep scarlet, and she was dressed in a shirt and a pair of white duck slops, secured round the waist with a black leather belt. The clothes had belonged to one of the ship's boys: a scrawny, undersized twelve-year-old, and had been given to her on Flint's orders as being nearest to her size. But the result was a tightness around the behind, and bare legs from just above the knees, and a want of buttons around the neck that left more velvet-black skin gleaming in the sunshine than was entirely wise.
She was nervous with the motion of the ship. Billy saw that she'd be casting up her accounts before long, like any green sailor. Then he looked around and saw that there wasn't one man on deck who wasn't staring pop-eyed at her, and those below were being called up by their mates so as not to miss the treat.
For that matter, Billy felt his own desires stiffening, and that was after a glutting, unrestrained debauch ashore that normally left him contented for weeks. Billy Bones entirely revised his opinion of black girls and looked at Flint out of the corner of his eye. By Satan! The captain was a man, and no mistake. He saw the satisfaction on Flint's face at the crew's reaction to his little prize.
"Selena, my dear!" called Flint. "Come aft!" Billy could see that she didn't know where aft was, but Flint beckoned and she half walked, half staggered along the deck to join him. And then Billy Bones saw the most surprising and wonderful thing: Silver was scowling. Silver's beaky nose was out of joint. Someone had shoved a pint of mustard up his arse, and Billy Bones could see who it was. A dull grin broke across his greasy face. He followed everything that happened next with utmost attention.
"Selena," said Flint, making introductions as if he were on a flagship and she were a duchess, "may I present my quartermaster and good companion, Mr John Silver."
Billy Bones saw the fine lips twist and the nose flare and the hands go to the hips.
"Huh!" she said, and Billy Bones held his breath. Skin, salt, bugger and burn him if this didn't look ripe! The little bitch was facing down Long John Silver like he was a foremast hand caught thieving from his mates; while Silver, by heaven, couldn't meet her eye. Billy actually saw Long John blush and blink and look from Flint to the girl and back again. Billy snorted with glee, and hastily made a show of clearing his throat and going to the rail to spit tobacco juice from the plug he kept eternally working in his mouth. But he came back sharpish to watch the next round of the contest.
"Why, what's this, John?" said Flint.
"We've met," said the girl.
"Aye," said Flint, "in Savannah."
"Yes," said the girl, "in Charley Neal's liquor shop." She looked at Flint. "Your friend thought I was something that I am not."
Billy Bones whistled silently to himself. She was powerful uppity for a nigger-woman. But then he remembered who her protector was.
"If that was the way of it, miss," said Silver, "then I'm right sorry, and I take my Bible oath on it." He turned anxiously to Flint, who was looking on in amusement. "A word in your private ear, Joe," he said, but Flint let go a blast of laughter. He slapped his thigh and petted his squawking parrot, and took off his hat and fanned himself. Then he held his sides and started all over again. Once Flint started laughing, it was hard for him to stop.
"Why, John," he said, between gasps, "don't tell me we both chased the same hind, and I was the faster?"
"No!" said the girl.
"No!" said Silver.
"No?" said Flint.
"We'd best talk, Joe," said Silver. "A woman is the worst luck that's possible to bring aboard a ship."
Billy saw the fun drain out of Flint in double quick time. Flint's eyes went wide and round and white, which was a dangerous sign.
"Now, would that be you, John Silver, questioning me?"
"Aye," said Silver.
"So!" said Flint.
They stared at one another as if no other person was within miles. The moment was intensely painful to each. Their friendship was still at its height. Then Flint shook himself and forced a smile, and tried another laugh — though not a very good one — and clapped Silver on the shoulder.
"John, John, shipmate," he said, "let's not you and I quarrel."
"Never at my choosing," said Silver, making his own best effort to force things back the way they'd been before.
"Then why ever?" said Flint, and smiled almost naturally.
"But we must talk, Cap'n," said Silver, glancing at Selena, and Flint's eyes grew round again, but he held his course.
"Aye," said Flint, "what can't be cured must be endured, as the doctors say." And he looked at Billy Bones and Selena. "My dear," he said, "this gentleman is Mr Bones, my first mate." She looked at him in a way that would have got her the back of Billy Bones's hand under other circumstances. "And, Mr Bones, this lady is my ward, Selena. I hand her into your personal safe-keeping, Mr Bones, and will inquire of you should any man treat her with less than proper respect."