“Piracy don’t pay all that well,” said John. “You know, there’s places inland where slaves go when they escape. Lots of ’em live back in the caves and such. Supposed to be whole villages, hiding up in the mountains on Hispaniola. D’you ever think of going to live with them?”
“But I’m not an escaped slave,” said Sejanus. “I was manumitted free and clear. I’m not going to run and hide from anyone.”
“You’ll have to, if you’re a pirate,” said John. “Except for the other Brethren, every man’s hand will be against you.”
“Every man’s hand is already against me,” said Sejanus, with a humorless chuckle. “But at least it won’t be just because of the color of my skin, if I’m looting treasure and burning galleons.”
THIRTEEN:
Domestic Economy
THEY ROWED OUT FARTHER next day to the bow of the Harmony. Here the water was deeper, the diving harder, but it was worth it; for here John brought up what proved to be the carpenter’s chest at last, as well as a few barrels of salt beef.
And here he spotted one-pound shot scattered across the sea floor like windfall apples under a tree, and busied himself collecting as many as he could each dive, gathering them into a sack he’d made from an old coat sleeve tied off at one end. The coat’s owner was beyond caring, but they had buried him a little deeper, just in case, and muttered a few prayers over him to make up for it.
John was crouched over, scooping up a few last shot on his fifth dive, when he heard a thundering knocking from above, as though they in the boat were beating on the gunwales. Which, as it turned out, was just what they were doing, trying frantically to get his attention.
He turned to look upward and was hit in the shoulder by a gray shape that struck him hard, flowing smoothly past. He turned, peering through his floating hair, and saw a reef shark turning to come back at him. Straight at his face it came, a big dead-eyed bugger like a battering ram. John, terrified, swung his fistful of shot and hit it square on the nose. Its forward momentum was halted; a sort of caul veiled its eyes, as though it was squinting. As it paused in front of him John grabbed its head, with his thumbs through the gills on either side, and rammed his forehead into its nose.
The shark shook violently. John let go, pushing off from the bottom. Sejanus was already reaching down for him, and grabbed him under the arms as he broke the surface. He hauled him half into the boat. John clutched at the thwarts and writhed forward, trying to lift his lower body out of the water, but felt something hit his calf and then sharp pain there. He bellowed in fear. Sejanus grabbed hold of the back of his breech-clout and hauled so hard it came off, but did succeed in getting John the rest of the way into the boat.
John, still screaming, heard Mr. Tudeley grunting with effort as he struck at something with an oar. Then the oar was hitting John across the back of his legs too, which hurt rather more than the other pain, and he heard Sejanus laughing. John turned in outrage and saw Mr. Tudeley clubbing a dogfish that had come into the boat with its teeth sunk in John’s calf. It lay now detached in the bottom of the boat, stunned, and John was bleeding like a stuck pig from a circular wound in his leg.
Sejanus was still laughing so hard he couldn’t speak, but he grabbed the oar from Mr. Tudeley and rowed them ashore as quickly as he could. It wasn’t until he ran them aground that he was able to catch his breath enough to say: “Bind up his leg with the breech-clout, Winty! You’ve killed us a nice fish for dinner, too. White men make good bait, I guess, eh?”
They went back up the trail to the other side of the island. Mr. Tudeley ran ahead to the camp, to fetch John back a pair of breeches, while John limped along leaning on Sejanus. He felt dizzy and faint.
“Could have been worse,” said Sejanus. “Could have been the big one got your leg. You don’t go back in the water until your leg heals up, eh? Maybe Winty and I will try our luck. Maybe out on the Dutchman’s wreck. She had a big fine stern cabin; daresay there’s charts and sextants and such in there. Come on, don’t you go swooning. Talk to me! How do we build a pinnace? You ever built a boat before?”
“No,” said John. “I just reckoned we’d make it like the longboat. Only bigger.”
“Use the longboat as a pattern? That’s good. That’ll work. Collect the busted bits of wreck that’s washed ashore, eh? Some fine big planks washed up. Come on, keep walking, not much farther now. I see the camp. Oh, lord—” Sejanus began laughing again, and John gave a strangled cry of horror.
Mrs. Waverly, clad only in a shift, was running to meet them, closely pursued by Mr. Tudeley, who was waving his hands and protesting “But ma’am—but, ma’am!” Sejanus, with great presence of mind, snatched off his scarf and screened John’s privates with it.
“You was supposed to bring my breeches,” John shouted at Mr. Tudeley.
“It’s not my fault! She’s washed everything,” protested Mr. Tudeley.
“Oh, my poor Mr. James!” Mrs. Waverly fell to her knees beside John. She loosed the breech clout to examine his wound and it promptly gushed forth blood again. “Oh, my dear! This must be sewn up!”
John tried to explain that all he needed was a tighter bandage and a good-lie down and some rum, but somehow he came over all strange. The next thing he knew, he was lying on his face in camp and hearing Mrs. Waverly saying, “Hold his hands, for this will sting.” He yelled and started up when she splashed rum in the wound, and only Sejanus holding him down (and the consciousness that he was still naked under a bit of sailcloth) kept him from jumping to his feet. He put his head down and swore.
“Please don’t use that sort of language, Mr. James,” said Mrs. Waverly, threading a needle. “It ill becomes you.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” said John, and gritted his teeth as she stitched him up.
He was given a big shellful of coconut water and rum afterward, and told to lie quiet. He was content enough to do this, sipping his rum and watching Mrs. Waverly move about the camp. Her shift was of rather fine material and gave the imagination a lot to work with. It seemed to unnerve Mr. Tudeley, who blushed and stammered, and stared when he didn’t think she noticed.
The whole camp had a domestic appearance now, with fresh-laundered laundry spread out on bushes to dry in the sun, for all the world like washing-day in the fields by Hackney Brook. Sejanus went back and fetched up the dogfish, which he gutted and cleaned. Mrs. Waverly cut it into steaks and grilled them over the coals. Later she knelt by John and fed him choice bits with her fingers, smiling and chatting on inconsequential matters with such grace and elegance, she might have been at Court.
“Now, dear Mr. James, I hope you’ll indulge me by drinking a little more coconut water,” she said at last, wiping her hands.
“Yes, ma’am,” said John. “I’m sorry about the indecency, ma’am.”
She laughed gaily. “Why, Mr. James, a gentleman in his natural state is not indecent if there is no lewd purpose to his undress. In any case, we are presently far from Society and its constraints, as Mr. Tudeley pointed out.” She patted his shoulder, and perhaps her hand lingered a moment too long on his bare skin. “Nor are you an ill-favored man.”
“Very kind of you to say so, I’m sure,” he said, trying not to notice that he could see her nipples through the gauzy fabric of her shift.