And indeed Mr Smith's future was assured. Like any sensible mariner, Flint wanted a spare navigating officer. Unfortunately, that could not now be Billy Bones, for he was destined for other duties. That had been decided. So, without Billy Bones, what if Flint were to fall ill or otherwise to become incapacitated while Walrus was home-bound with a certain cargo under hatches? What then, if there were no man to set a course? What would become of poor Joe Flint?
Hence the time and effort to train up Mr Smith. But once in sight of England, that gentleman's future was assured beyond doubt. Meanwhile there was something else.
"Mr Smith," said Flint, after a few glasses had gone down, and the acting-first mate's face was glowing nicely, "Mr Smith — or may I take the liberty of calling you by your baptismal name? Ewyn, is it not? And you must call me Joseph."
"Oh, sir!" said Smith, enormously flattered, and he licked his lips with so wet a tongue, and peered so bloodshot-misty- eyed through his little round spectacles, that Flint's greatest weakness nearly let him down once more. But not quite, and Flint managed — though only just — to keep a hold on his solemnity.
"Ewyn," said Flint, "I seek your advice on a most personal matter…" he paused, "… one so personal that I barely know how to begin."
"Oh… Joseph?" said Smith, sitting up, and dragging a handkerchief across his sweating face — to clear for action, as it were — for he was an addicted nosy parker, and his greed for other people's troubles was unlimited.
"This black girl of mine," said Flint.
"Yes?" said Smith, and Flint shook his head, and dithered and muttered, and blushed and sighed, and took another glass and sighed again, and dropped his gaze to the polished table top.
"Yes! Yes!" said Smith, and an erection rose between his thighs in sheer anticipation of what might follow.
"The fact is… Ewyn," said Flint very softly, "she has certain appetites... doubtless innocent, and doubtless commonplace among her own folk, but which she wishes me to satisfy… and… and…"
"And?" gulped Smith in a half-strangled voice.
"I find that they are more than my strength can achieve," said Flint. He looked up and saw Smith's goggling eyes and drooling lips, and nearly lost control again. Out of sight beneath the table, he resorted to the technique of peeling back his left thumbnail with his right index finger, which delivered such pain that he was saved from laughter.
"I find, Ewyn," he said, "that the variety, the frequency, and the exoticism of her desires are more than one man can sustain — at least a white man — and therefore… Ewyn… I ask you… as the only gentleman aboard… the only man of education…"
"Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!" said Smith, his mind and member united in their closeness to ejaculation.
"Dear friend!" said Flint, with a grateful smile.
"When? When?" said Smith.
"Ah," said Flint, "another glass, Mr Mate?"
"Yes, Joseph!"
Flint gave a small laugh, then smiled like a father. "Better make it 'Captain', dear friend, just for the while."
"Aye-aye, Captain!"
"Mr Smith," Flint sighed, "if only you knew the burdens of command."
"Captain?"
"And treachery, Mr Smith."
"Treachery?" Smith's mind was blurred with drink, but this was news.
"We are betrayed by all aboard Lion, and most aboard Walrus!"
"No!"
"Yes — the burying of the goods is but a ruse to save them!"
"Save them… for whom?" said Smith, who was not quite a fool.
"Thyself and myself, Mr Smith, and those few whom we can trust."
"Few?"
"Just enough to work this ship back to England — say a dozen hands."
"Twelve?" said Smith, and his mouth gaped open.
"Yes, Mr Smith. A vast fortune, divided by eighteen."
"Eighteen?"
"Of course — twelve hands, plus you and I."
"But does not that make fourteen?"
"No, Mr Smith, for you and I shall have triple shares."
"God love and save us!"
"And of course, you jolly dog," said Flint, winking broadly, "once this ship has the goods under hatches, and our business with the traitors is done, and we're safe on course for England… then I'll give you my cabin and my key, and you can take that piece of black mischief in there, and do what you like to her!"
"Ooh!" said Smith.
"But before that, Mr Smith, there are some immediate duties for you to perform. You must be my eyes and ears aboard Walrus, for I shall have duties ashore. You must hold the ship for me, and beware of John Silver and beware of the crew. So pay close attention to what I shall tell you now…"
Chapter 40
Israel Hands's Spanish gun was in all respects ready for action. It needed only to be run out and a linstock's match applied to the touch-hole.
"Well done, Mr Gunner!" said Silver. "And well done, Mr Boatswain!"
"Aye-aye, Cap'n!" they said.
"Aye," said Silver, and nodded in satisfaction as he looked up and down Lion's ninety-by-twenty-foot main deck, which was buzzing and clattering with pointless activity.
Lines were being spliced and un-spliced. Hatch coamings were being levered off with crowbars — to the screeek of nails — and then promptly hammered back again with thundering blows. The carpenter's men were sawing old timbers inch by inch into sawdust, with mighty saws. The topsails were being bent and un-bent and bent again to their yards. A squad of musketeers was drilling by the stern rail, going through the postures of loading — though with empty air — and levelling astern and crying Bang! as they pulled their triggers.
There wasn't a busier crew this side of the Bedlam madhouse.
"That's the way, by thunder!" said Silver. "I defy King Solomon himself to pick the raisins out o' that! Even him what told the wax flowers from the real by the aid of bees!" And he bumped and thumped to the rail, and put his glass to his eye for a look at Walrus.
"Them buggers has given up looking, I reckon," said the boatswain, and nudged Israel Hands cheerfully in the ribs. Hands nodded and nudged him back.
"That they have, Mr Sawyer," said Silver. "I don't think there's a soul aboard that even cares. Not now." He looked at the endless nonsensical labours merrily under way aboard the ship. "So now, my lads, you can show me over the real works, them as Walrus don't need to know about."
Silver's natural excellence in command extended to giving orders then leaving his subordinates to carry them out while he kept out of the way. This he'd learned partly from observing how England and Mason went about their work, but mainly it was his own intuitive good sense in appreciating that no man works better for having his superior beside him. The trick was to pick the right men in the first place, and Silver knew that Sarney Sawyer was as good a boatswain as Israel Hands was a gunner.
And as for Israel's little mistake with the Spanish gun — the mistake he was keeping so quiet about — why, that could be the saving of the ship… if it did come to fighting, that was. John Silver had been thinking it over very carefully. But first he had to check everything had been done to rights.
"You first, Mr Boatswain!" said Silver.
"Aye-aye, Cap'n!"
Led by Sawyer, John Silver and Israel Hands picked their way across the busy deck, men saluting and making way with utmost goodwill — a most cheery thing indeed for their captain to see when faced with the near certainty of imminent action against a superior ship.