But horrid and friendless as he was, Pew had sharp ears, he was fiercely stubborn and intensely argumentative. He loved a debate in a way that few of his fellows did. So having followed the speeches with serious concentration, he'd shouted his way to the front, and when it came to giving a summary of what the hands wanted — to the surprise of all present — none could do it better than Blind Pew. There he stood, thin and grey: a creature from the dark below, brought up into the light, but gifted with a clear voice and even a certain gift of speech — Celtic and poetic.
"So, Silver to take the ship — says I — and Flint to keep the Walrus. So, Silver to pick his crew — says I — and Flint to keep the goods. So, Silver to take Mr Bones — says I — and Flint to keep Miss Selena. So, all shall share the duff — says I — and all shall bear the shite!"
The roars of approval from all hands made the result a foregone conclusion. But Flint meticulously went through the procedures laid down in the ship's articles. He'd grown used to doing things that way, and even he now thought them proper.
"All for brother Pew shall show," said Flint, and Pew stood tall and proud, nodding and basking in the attention of his mates. He didn't see the forest of hands that went up, favouring his proposal, but he heard the cheer and he grinned. Those around him clapped him on the back and said he was no end of a clever 'un, and they dug him in the ribs and called him a sea-lawyer, and he puffed up with self importance. It was just as well that he couldn't see the look on the face of Long John, who thought this a poor return for kindness.
"Any against Brother Pew's proposal?" said Flint, and a derisory howl greeted the few hands that went up.
"Flint!" cried Silver, filling with anger and ready to fight the whole ship. Flint spun round and laid a hand on his sword, but Selena caught Silver's arm and hissed in his ear.
"Come away, John," she said, "now!" And she led him to the stern where they could talk together without being heard.
"John," she said, "it don't matter."
"Stap my heart and soul, but it does!"
"No, it don't. Not a bit."
"How can I leave you with that bastard?"
"You've got to. Or you'll lose everything."
"You're my everything, girl. Nothing else counts."
"John, Flint is nothing. He's never touched me."
"What? Not never?"
"No."
"But I thought you was his piece. Ain't that why he fetched you aboard?"
"S'pose so," she said.
"Well, why didn't he touch you? There's not a man aboard as don't want to!"
"Flint don't want to."
"Why not?"
Selena sighed, she laid a hand on his arm and smiled. She knew how it hurt him. It hurt her too.
"Listen, John," she said, "he's never so much as laid a hand on me, d'you hear? So you go on that ship, and don't worry about me. Then we'll go to Savannah, after the island, and… if you're still minded… then maybe we can get together." She looked up at him in hope, but with fear too, because even as she dared to speak of the future, a poison worm wriggled in her mind. She knew how white men treated black girls, and she wondered — now that he'd had what he wanted — if he might look elsewhere.
Unfortunately Silver entirely missed the subtle fear. He was turning over the news that Flint hadn't touched her. He was still jealous and, at the same time, questions had sprung into his mind about Flint.
"He could've had you if he'd wanted."
"S'pose so."
"An' he didn't?"
"Isn't that what I said?"
"So… are you saying that Flint's fancy don't turn that way?"
"Huh! Why don't you ask him."
"Well, shiver me timbers — Joe Flint's a navigator of the windward passage."
"John! You get on board o' that ship… and no, he isn't."
"How'd you know?"
"I know!" She did too. Flint hadn't been quite as careful in his drilling of peep-holes, nor as silent in his lechery, as he'd imagined. Enough gasping and groaning had come through the bulkhead to tell Selena a lot more about him than ever he suspected. But she wisely decided that this was not a good time to let Long John into the secret.
Nonetheless they each had a splinter under the fingernaiclass="underline" she with her fears and he with his jealousy, and there was plenty else for them to argue about over the decision to separate. So they bickered and snapped, nastily and pointlessly, and both grew angry and shouted. Insults were exchanged and tempers lost, and, being so angry, neither could say to the other the three words that would have healed all wounds and given comfort during the weeks to come.
So they parted badly, with Long John going across to his command, taking just under half the men with him. As agreed, one of them was Billy Bones, who had emerged from Flint's cabin after a conversation every bit as fraught as Long John's with Selena.
"I ain't going," Billy Bones had mumbled, hanging his head and fiddling with his hat. His reaction to Pew's compromise was pitiful to see, and he pleaded to stay with Flint like a child begging to be let into its parents' bed at midnight for fear of the bogeyman.
"Brace up, Billy Bones!" snapped Flint. "Find some backbone and do your duty! Look at Silver, you fool. He's worst pleased than you are!" It was true, but that only frightened Billy Bones all the more. Flint heaved a sigh and pointed to a chair.
"Billy-boy, just put your enormous backside to anchor and contrive to hold your tongue."
Billy Bones grumbled and cursed, and plumped down, purple-faced, as he'd been told, while Flint sat facing him on the upholstered bench that ran across the cabin at the stern windows.
"I won't go. Gut and bugger me if I will!" said Billy Bones, but he took care to say it very quietly, almost to himself. Flint heard, nonetheless.
"Billy," said Flint, starting half out of his seat, with white clear all around the pupils of his eyes, "not a word… not one… word!"
Billy Bones gulped in fright, and twisted his hat like a housemaid wringing a dishcloth. There was much that Billy Bones wanted to say. He was terrified of what would happen to him under Silver's command, let alone from Silver's men. Still, he was a damn sight more afraid of Flint, and it was Flint he had to deal with just now.
"So," said Flint, settling back with a broad smile on his face, "shipmate… messmate… Billy-my-chicken… In this world of pain and sorrow, we many times have to do that which, given free choice, we would not do. And when that happens, a wise man makes the best of things, and he clasps to his bosom such advantages as he has." Flint paused and contemplated Billy Bones's puzzlement. "Do you follow the argument, Billy-boy?"
"No," said Bones, and Flint sighed heavily, like a man who has laboured mightily to see virtue in a particularly stupid bulldog, which is ugly, dirty and foul-smelling but occasionally useful for frightening burglars.
"We must concentrate our minds, Mr Bones," said Flint, "on the fact that Silver has you, and I have Selena. That's one-for-one." Flint saw the puzzlement deepen on Billy Bones's heavy face. Bones, loyal to Flint in all things, had contrived not to notice what most others — and certainly Blind Pew — had noticed concerning Silver's attitude to Selena, and hers towards him. Billy still staunchly believed that Selena was Flint's, and Flint could see the question that he dared not ask.