"You… need… not…worry… your… thick… skull… about… that," said Flint, leaning across and beating time with his knuckles on Billy Bones's brow. Aside from John Silver, any other man who did that would have found his entrails round his neck and his balls hanging from his ears. But Billy Bones took it like a lamb. He knew Flint.
"Aye-aye, Cap'n," was all he said.
"Good man," said Flint, and pulled Billy Bones's nose. "Now then, Billy-boy, can you swim?"
"No, Cap'n," said Billy Bones, and his face went greasy- white as he cringed before this new terror.
"Hmm…" said Flint thoughtfully. "But no doubt even you would float if buoyed up with sufficient cork." Billy Bones shifted and frowned at these words. He sailed mortal uneasy upon this tack for he was dreadfully afraid of sharks. Flint grinned at him and laughed. "Never fear, Billy Bones," he said. "But pay close attention. This is what you must do…"
In due course, Billy Bones's battered old chest with the initial 'B' burned into the lid in poker-work, was hoisted over the side and into a boat, and he and it were rowed across to the brig Susan Mary, which Silver promptly re-named Lion. Of the remains of her original crew, two died of their scurvy that same day, while two survived and were persuaded to become gentlemen of fortune. One only — the captain himself — refused to be turned from what he perceived as his duty, and so he was put in irons awaiting a suitable landfall for marooning.
He too died a few days later, despite all Surgeon Cowdray's efforts in feeding him fresh fruit and greens, and for those few days this honest shipmaster thought himself an ill-used and miserable man. But he was merry as a bishop in a bawdy house compared to Billy Bones, whose world was in ruins, and who pondered constantly upon the memory of better days. He groaned in fear of Silver and shuddered at the thought of Flint's orders, for he didn't know which was worse.
Nor did he know the worst. As Billy Bones was rowed across to Lion, looking back longingly at his beloved master lifting his hat in smiling farewell, that gentleman was making further plans.
Ah! Billy-my-Billy, thought Flint, there's long weeks of sailing ahead for you, and all of it on the wide blue ocean. And there's yourself that's never had sole responsibility of navigation, and it always was a wonder, that you could multiply two times two and get the same answer every time.
Flint smiled as he relished the warmth of his thoughts. So, Billy-boy, what if you was to lose sight of Walrus in the night? What if you wasn't able to keep up? What if you was to get lost entirely, and never find land, and the whole unfortunate crew of you — and dear Mr Silver, too — was to be entered among the hosts of the Lost and Drowned? Why…in that case there'd be seventy less to share the goods!
He laughed merrily and called across the water. "Goodbye, Mr Bones! And good luck!"
"Goodbye, Cap'n," replied Billy Bones, and came close to weeping in the bitter sorrow of parting.
Chapter 30
The brig Susan Mary, now to be known as Lion, was smaller than Walrus and had all the differences below decks in terms of cabins, provision for storage, depth of the hold, et cetera, with which the individual shipwright shows the world that he can do his work better than any other. So there was a considerable bother of cursing and complaining among Captain Silver's men as they moved into their new home. Nothing was quite like what they'd been used to, and each thought the others were depriving him of the cosiest berth and the snuggest corner.
As soon as he got aboard, Israel Hands, who had been Flint's gunner and was now Long John's, elbowed and cuffed his way into a cabin, declared it his own as a senior officer in this commission, posted his mate to guard it, and went to examine the planked wooden cupboard that passed for a magazine aboard this ship. There was just room for him to get inside of it and sit down upon a bench facing a table with rows of pigeonholes above it.
Israel Hands sucked his teeth philosophically. So it had come to this. Israel Hands, who'd once served aboard ships where the magazines held cartridges for twenty-four-pounders, and ninety-pound powder kegs stood shoulder to shoulder in rows, was reduced to this. Ah well, he thought, at least there was a magazine: a proper place set aside for the powder, and lit through a double-glass window by a lantern burning outside. And there was a proper door to it, so that the gunner might keep out lubbers who'd otherwise wander in with lighted pipes in their mouths and blow the ship to splinters.
For that matter, there was plenty of powder aboard too, for the ship's cargo of plantation goods included a dozen thirty-pound powder kegs — far more than the ship herself needed with her pop-gun battery.
He cocked his head and listened to them on the deck above his head, fighting over where they should sling their hammocks. He grinned at the thought of the bruises and broken heads. None of that need trouble Israel Hands now. He was third man in the ship, after only Long John and Billy Bones. So he grinned and began to examine the flannel cartridges for the four-pounders which were Lion's main battery.
He was thorough in the work, which he did mainly by touch, taking the fat sausages of powder out of their pigeonholes and running his fingers up and down their seams, feeling for leaks. He didn't trust any other man to do the job. Israel Hands was greedy and violent, and there was a certain depravity within him or he'd never have been where he was today, but he was also a careful and diligent man, or he'd never have been rated as gunner — a job which punished slackness by the loss of the entire ship in one great thundering roar.
He thought over what had happened, particularly the split between Flint and Silver. What an amazing piece of luck it had been that they'd found the brig when they did. Otherwise there would have been one or two aboard Walrus whose livers would have been tickled while they slept, for that was the way Israel Hands preferred to do business, what with its being such a safe and quiet way. Given the choice, Israel Hands would have started with Billy Bones, because he kissed Flint's bum-hole every day of the week and twice on Sundays. And now Billy-boy was first mate under Silver! There was a turn of events, and no mistake.
In all, seventy men and three boys came across with Long John into Lion. Mostly the men were from the old East India days, when they'd been shipmates under Captain Mason; these included Blind Pew, whom Silver had asked for despite his part in the recent debate, for he was still a better sailmaker than his mates. Every spare sail from Lion's lockers was being brought up and bent to the masts to replace those shredded by the sea, and more would have to be made.
Among the rest who chose to go with Silver was a small group who'd been with Flint aboard Elizabeth: George Merry, Tom Allardyce, and Israel Hands himself. This was a little victory for Long John Silver, since not one of his old East India shipmates had stayed aboard Walrus under Flint. Israel Hands paused briefly in his work. Silver was an odd bugger for a pirate, what with his articles and his "gentlemen of fortune" and his sparing of prisoners and women.
Israel Hands knew more about this than most, for his own father, after whom he was named, had served under Black- beard forty years ago when it had been butchery on all sides and no quarter asked or given. Israel Hands shrugged his shoulders and reached for another cartridge. Silver might be lily-livered, but his ways meant the crew pulled together. Besides, Israel's father had been lamed for life by Blackbeard firing off a pair of pistols under the table just for fun: exactly the sort of mad game Flint enjoyed. It was one more reason why Israel Hands preferred Silver.