Sawyer took them right into the bow, where two anchor cables ran out through the hawse-holes, the big, three-strand, hemp lines stretching each in its own direction — one to larboard, one to starboard. Each was sixty fathoms long and bent to the ring of an iron anchor fast in the bottom, giving Lion a mooring against the powerful tides of the southern anchorage. With a single anchor she'd have swung like a pendulum, scraping her cable on the bottom, and wearing it out worse and worse with every tide.
"See, Cap'n," said Sawyer, leaning out over a cathead and pointing down at the cables. "We led a hawser out through the foremost gunport on the larboard beam, and brought the hawser inboard and ran it to the capstan." He pointed aft to the squat wooden cylinder. "Then we did the same with a second hawser on the starboard beam, and so — whatever the wind and tide may venture — we can haul on the one or the other of the hawsers, and turn the old ship to face whichever way danger may threaten."
"Well and good, Mr Boatswain," said Silver. These were the most basic matters of seamanship, but Sawyer was still new to his rating and needed to know that his captain had an eye on him. "And has Parson Smith followed your lead, Mr Boatswain? Has he rigged springs?"
"Not him, Cap'n!" said Sawyer, glancing across at Walrus. "From what I seen through my glass, old Parson, he's too busy yelling at the hands. Anyhow, that land-lubber couldn't find his arse with a hand-mirror!"
"Nor couldn't he, neither!" said Silver. "So, Mr Hands, you've shown me how you've mounted your gun. Now tell me why you've mounted her there." Silver pointed at the second gun-port on the starboard side — the mid-point of the deck — where the Spanish nine stood out from the rest of Lion's battery, like a mastiff among spaniels. Or at least, it would have done if it hadn't been run inboard and covered with a tarpaulin, so it couldn't be seen.
"Aye, Cap'n," said Israel Hands. "On the open sea, with Flint in command, he'd manoeuvre to rake us by the bow or the stern — the stern most of all."
"Aye," said Silver, for that was the weak point of all ships — the stern, where there were more glass windows than oak timbers. "So, would you have put the nine-pounder in the stern?"
"No, Cap'n, for even then it would be one gun against seven — my nine pounds of shot against their forty-two. No, begging your pardon, Cap'n, but I'd leave it to yourself to keep him off our stern — ours being the faster ship, and yourself well knowing that, once he's across our stern, we're buggered!"
"Right enough, Mr Hands. So why not put your gun in the bow, which is well-timbered, and would make the smaller target for his guns, and leave it to me to place the old Lion bow-on to the foe, where you can play your gun upon him?"
Israel Hands blinked, and sighed, and thought, and bit his hp.
"No, Cap'n… Can't be done. For there ain't no room in the bow, and that's the Gospel truth."
"No, Mr Hands, there ain't," said Silver. "And we'll say no more of it! So why've you mounted her on the beam?"
Israel Hands cheered up enormously.
"First off, Cap'n, we ain't on the open sea. Flint ain't in command, and there ain't no manoeuvring to be done by nobody — not even him — here in the anchorage. So it might come to distant fire with guns elevated, or it might come to boats and boarders. In either case, I'd want our four-pounders able to bear — with grape and cannister — as much as I'd want the long gun sending shot into the enemy's hull."
"Aye!" said a chorus of voices, for others were listening now. Duties or no duties, free companions were not King's navy seamen and each was an individual who took a keen interest in matters which could mean life or death to himself.
"Well and good, Mr Hands," said Silver. "And have you had your pick of the shot?"
"Aye, Cap'n," said Israel Hands. "See there — " He pointed to a chest brought up from the hold, and laid alongside the Spanish gun. "Them Dons is a sight better iron-founders than they's given the credit for. I've gone through that shot locker and I ain't had to heave out more than one in five of 'em. Round as a baby's bum and smooth as a milkmaid's tit!" He looked at Walrus, less than two cable-lengths off. "What I say is this: let it come to long bowls, and ourselves at anchor with the deck steady, and myself with a good crew, and I'll put shot into that bugger where she lays right now, and they can stick their six-pounders up their arses!"
"HUZZAH!" cried the crew, and surged forward to slap Israel Hands on the back.
Silver waited till they were quiet.
"Well done indeed, Mr Hands. And well done, Mr Sawyer…" Silver paused, looked round his crew, and spoke.
"But there's one more thing, lads," he said. "Is there any man here now as doubts that we was made fools of by Flint?" "NO!"
"So what about them over there?" said Silver, pointing to Walrus. "They ain't all swabs and lubbers. Don't you think some o' them won't have wondered? Flint's been ashore best part of four days now. Four days on a duty that should've taken two! And them aboard Walrus will have heard the same firing we heard, and the screaming in the night, and all they've got for a cap'n is Parson Smith!"
There was a roar of laughter.
"Cap'n," said Israel Hands, "what course are you steering? We can batter spars off 'em. We can sink 'em! We don't need to worry about 'em."
Silver shook his head.
"Listen, lads," he said, "once we was jolly companions, one and all. Once we fought side by side and was messmates — "
"Long John!" said Israel Hands, guessing what was coming, "Don't — "
"So there's one more thing to do before it comes to fighting, and that's to give 'em one more chance!" cried Silver. "We signed articles! We all signed, every man of us, and there ain't been no vote to dissolve them articles!"
The crew fell silent.
"John! John!" said Israel Hands.
"So I'm taking a boat," said Silver, "and I'm going across. And just before we all blind one another's eyes and blow one another's bollocks off… Why! I'm giving 'em that one more chance to be jolly companions again!"
"It's the black girl, ain't it, John?" said Israel Hands, hanging on to Long John's arm, and looking up into his face. He dropped his voice so no other should hear. "You're soft on her, ain't you? You don't want her hurt in a fight."
"Bugger that!" said Silver. "That's done and ended. It's articles I'm worried about, for if we ain't true to them, then what are we? We're just a set of thieving pirates!"
Chapter 41
Parson Smith — landsman, lubber and budding navigator — was now within seconds of a nasty death, and it was a wonderful thing to see how ignorant he was of the fact.
"Garn, you bugger," said the crew as they closed in on him, a sea of cruel faces and eager hands fingering knives.
"Out the way, Parson!"
"Give us the black tart!"
"Fair shares for all!"
"Flint's gone! It's our turn!"
"You can have a bit yourself, when we're done!" said a wit, and there was a nasty laugh.
Smith stamped his foot in anger. He lifted his head in defiance. He advanced to the quarterdeck rail. He gripped it with both hands and took up a noble pose — the pose of an innocent man shamefully abused.