"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, Doña 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, España, et Las Señorasl" 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.
"Break open the hatches, lads!" roared Silver. "Guard the prisoners, and out with the rum and the wine, and the cheese and the pickles!"
Half a dozen of the crew, told off for that purpose, herded the prisoners to the fo'c'sle and the rest roared with delight.
"Three cheers for Long John!" cried a voice.
"Aye!" they roared and cheered lustily.
"Three cheers for the cap'n!" cried Billy Bones lustily.
"Aye!" they cried, and gave Flint his three, equally loud.
They waved blades in the air and fired off the few firearms left loaded. They embraced their messmates and danced hornpipes. They staggered about, tripping over the clutter of fallen gear and staggering as the vessel rolled heavily under the movement of so many men.
Then they set to with a will, with crowbars and hammers and axes. Off came the hatches and men scrambled to investigate the catch. Down below they broke into the captain's cabin, with its books and carpets and images of saints, and they smashed open everything that was locked or shut. Bales of cloth came up from the hold and were cut into festoons of bright colour. The brandy and wine was found, as were hams and fresh eggs.
Then — best of the best and wonder of wonders — great, iron-bound strong boxes were discovered and smashed open to reveal Spanish silver dollars in countless glittering, clinking, shining profusion. Spanish dollars! The famous Ocho Reales that passed in circulation throughout the known world as a sovereign standard of currency.
"Dollars!" yelled the mob.
"Pieces of eight!"
"Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!"
They bawled out the words over and over, and ever after it was a talisman and a watchword among them to say it:
"Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!"
Even the parrot learned the words and every last man was brimming with joy. It was an enormous, fabulous treasure, and they were wild with excitement.
But the biggest roar came when some serious axe-work broke open a sealed cabin on the cable tier, where half-a- dozen terrified Spanish women were hidden. One poor creature, believing all she'd been told about pirates, took her own life on the spot with a little pistol kept for this purpose. She fired straight into the centre of her forehead, spattering blood, brains and bone-fragments upon her companions. The rest, shrieking hysterically, were dragged up on deck to a reception of howling, slavering lust.
But Silver found a still-loaded gun and fired into the air. He knocked men down with the butt, and called upon them all to remember the articles they'd signed.
"No woman that ain't willing!" he bawled. "You've money enough, now, for every whore in the Indies!"
But all he got was an angry, foul-mouthed, spittle-drenched bellowing from a monster denied its meat. Even Long John's leadership had its limits, and he had now gone beyond them.
"Bugger you, John!" they cried. "Haul off, you bastard, before we split you!"
BANG! BANG! Flint fired his own pistols into the air, and loaded with furious speed, and sprang forward and stood beside Long John, between the crew and the women.