"As do I!" said Silver, and Flint nearly bust himself holding back the hysterical laughter. But it wouldn't do, at this vital moment, to piss into Mr Bones's font. Not when Mr Bones was about to oblige by battering Silver senseless with mighty fists, before kicking in Silver's skull with heavy boots.
And what a fine thing that would be, thought Flint. Once the decks were scrubbed and hosed down, he would make a speech, sorrowing over Silver's fall into decrepitude and praising his past triumphs, and so bringing his rival's remaining supporters over to his own side. And then, if anyone thought the worse of Billy Bones for killing a poor old cripple, well, so much the worse for Billy-boy. He could always be replaced.
But first there were formalities to be observed. The crew had to be mustered, the Book of Articles brought forth, the articles read, and the combatants searched for hidden weapons. Finally the hands were warned, on pain of death, that nobody must interfere.
The excitement was immense. Such yelling and shouting and eager jostling, and such innocent delight on all sides at the prospect of so wonderful a fight. So Flint led Silver and Billy Bones to the quarterdeck, where the ship offered its nearest equivalent to fair and level ground, and each man took off his hat and coat, and stood to face the other. Bravado drove Billy Bones to haul off his shirt and stand like the pugilist he was, chest matted in black hair and tattooed arms bulging with strength. All of Flint's supporters, and many of Long John's too, roared their approval and admiration at the sight of him, while Long John stood waiting and trembling. He was visibly shaking. His face was white. His lips were black. He looked already dead. He looked a lost man, and Selena gaped in horror and tried to stop the inevitable. She appealed to Flint, and was ignored. She appealed to Long John, who seemed barely to hear her. She appealed to the crew, who howled and roared and ridiculed.
"So," said Flint, drawing a pair of fresh-primed pistols, "I charge all hands to stand back and take no part of this fair and chosen fight, remembering that, if any does interfere, then he shall die by my hand!"
He turned to Billy Bones. "Are you ready, Mr Bones?"
"Aye!"
"Are you ready, Mr Silver?"
"One thing more — " cried Silver.
"What is it?" said Flint.
"Does Mr Bones agree that I takes no unfair advantage over him?" said Silver. "Does he agree that I has no weapons other than what he sees. And that this — " he gestured at himself, "as I stand here, is the thing he fights?"
Billy Bones sneered with contempt at the cripple leaning on his crutch. "Aye," he said.
"Then go to it!" said Flint, which words were the signal for deafening shouts and cries of delight from the happy onlookers, fiercely shaking their fists and urging on their man to inflict death and mutilation. They filled the shrouds for a better view, they crowded all round in a ring. They jumped and fought to see, and the ship rolled and plunged beneath them. And Billy Bones grinned and stepped forward, waving his fists in little circles to exercise his arms.
"Cripple," he said, "I've been waiting for this. I'll stamp your face in!"
And then there was a gasp of amazement.
Long John swung his crutch out from under his shoulder. He balanced neatly on one leg and threw the heavy timber like a javelin. It caught Billy Bones squarely between the eyes. Bones staggered. His knees buckled. His arms drooped. Long John leapt forward and slammed the top of his head straight into Billy Bones's face, with all the weight of his body behind it. Billy Bones's nose crunched like a smashed apple, spraying blood left, right and centre… And down went Billy. Down went Long John too, right on top of him, driving the point of his knee hard into Billy Bones's belly, so the breath wheezed out in a gasp, then heaving him on to his face and wrenching his arm behind his back to twist the shoulder joint till the dazed and semi-conscious Billy Bones woke up again and roared in pain.
"Here we are then, Billy-my-chicken!" cried Long John, and got himself more comfortably seated on Billy's back, and got a better grip of his arm. He might have lost a leg, but he still had plenty of dead weight to hold Billy down, and all the powerful muscles of his arms and shoulders were fighting- fit and ready to put some real pressure to the wrestler's hold he'd applied.
"Bastard!" screamed Billy Bones. "I'll kill you!"
"So now who's the better man, of us?" hissed Long John, face close to Billy Bones's ear and the sweat dripping off his nose.
"Fuck you!" screamed Billy. "Fuck your mother! Fuck your father!"
Billy Bones was tough as granite and immune to pain — or so he'd thought. He struggled fiercely to unseat the one-legged man, but Silver hung on. He hung on like a spider round a fly. He hung on and he worked at Billy Bones's shoulder joint until eventually even Billy couldn't stand it any more, and stopped bellowing and started yelping.
"Now then, Billy," said Silver, when he thought he had Mr Bones's full attention, "shall I pop this shoulder out of her joint?" He looked up and nodded at the crowd. "There's Mr Cowdray over there, our surgeon, and he can always put her back in for you… unless I does a real job and tears the flesh and sinews of her, in which case she won't never work again. And then who'd be the cripple, Billy-boy? So here's a few more pulls, just to make sure you've got the feel of it. Are you ready, Billy?"
"AAAARGH!" Billy Bones shrieked in agony.
"I asks you once more, Billy-boy: Who's the better man?"
"Ohhhh.…" groaned Billy Bones, "no more…"
"Last time, Billy, or out she comes. Who's the better man?"
"Owww… It's you."
"Say it loud, Billy-boy. Good and loud."
"YOU'RE THE BETTER MAN!" cried Billy Bones, and he wept for the humiliation of it.
Long John rolled clear of Billy Bones and stood up, throwing his weight on to his leg and driving himself upright all in one movement. He stood swaying and balancing, hopping occasionally and stretching out his arms for balance. The hands cheered in delight and surged forward, but not before Long John had hopped a few neat steps, and bent at the knee, and stooped, and heaved upright again, retrieving the crutch that had knocked the wind out of Billy Bones. All this he did by himself, and he stood head and shoulders over the men who came forward to acclaim him.
He was Long John Silver again.
Except that he wasn't quite the old Long John. He was something else. The men didn't clap him on the back as they would have done before. They pressed close and they nodded and saluted. But they didn't dare touch him. There'd been something serpent-like in the one-legged man leaping and hopping; and where the old Long John would have knocked down Billy Bones with his fists, the new Long John had won by cunning and by torture. Long John himself felt the change, but at least he knew by the respect — and fear — in men's eyes that there'd be no more reference to cripples. Not aboard this ship.
Billy Bones certainly felt the change, for he'd always feared Long John before and now feared him twice as bad, and never dared challenge him again. Flint saw it too, and knew there'd be no easy solution to the split in the ranks that left half following himself and half his rival. And Selena saw it and pushed through the men around Silver. She pulled at his arm, and he grinned, and waved the hands away, and they obeyed like sheep, and left him and the girl alone. She was puzzled.
"Why'd you do that?" she said. "If you'd fight Billy Bones, then why not Flint? Are you afraid of him?"
"Huh!" said Long John. He frowned deeply, and searched within himself for an answer. He might even have managed one, but he was interrupted.
"Sail-ho!" cried the masthead lookout.