"Captain," said Pimenta, "you must be a fine fellow, 'cos Mr Neal says so." And he whispered confidentially, "We do a deal of business, Charley and I, and Charley says there's money inside of you." He poked Flint. He actually poked his short, podgy, white finger into Captain Joseph Flint's belly! But Flint smiled. He never flinched, he never budged, he never moved. He simply smiled, and charmed Pimenta, who was completely deceived and sufficiently encouraged to develop his argument a little further.
"So, Captain," he said, "you're situated thus: you need money to get money. Yes?"
"Yes," said Flint. He spoke smoothly, easily, handsomely, as if he hadn't the least objection — not in all the world — to being cross-questioned by a greasy little goblin that needed slitting and gutting and salting.
"So," said Pimenta, "I have to know three things. First: how much have you got? Second: where is it? Third: how much is for me?"
"Ah," said Flint, and smiled and smiled. "Now we touch upon most confidential matters."
"But nothing you can't tell we," said Pimenta, edging so close that Flint could smell the wine on his breath. He nudged Flint and winked, "Trust me, Joe, as I trust you…"
Chapter 13
"Detail!" said Silver. "Detail is everything!"
"Aye," said the dozen men who would man Fort Silver, the biggest of the planned fortifications, the one most nearly complete, and the one which overlooked the southern anchorage. It was a forty-foot-square earthwork revetted with ships timbers and cut with emplacements for two four- pounders in each wall.
"Come close, lads," said Silver, beckoning the hands to the guns that covered the beach. "See them tubs? You gun-captains pay heed! Once 'general quarters' is sounded, I want glowing matches in every tub, so's every piece is always ready to fire."
"Aye, Cap'n."
"Good — see that it's done." He picked out a man: "You there: Crooky Cruickshank — "
"Aye-aye, sir!"
"— what've I said about 'falling back', Crooky?"
The man gulped, uneasy at being singled out.
"You said men's more important than forts."
"And what might that mean?"
"It means we's to abandon ship and fall back if ordered."
"An' where should you fall back to?"
"To Fort Hands, inland."
"And what then should you do with your guns?"
"Spike 'em, Cap'n."
"How?"
"With this, Cap'n!"
Nicholson reached down among the gun tackles and produced a long iron nail and a fist-sized rock.
"I knock the sod into the touch-hole and keep on pounding till it's squashed to buggery and can't be pulled out!"
"Aye," said Silver. The rock was Israel Hands's idea. There were nails for every gun, but not enough hammers. "You — Dick Douglas," he said, choosing another man, "when d'you fire round-shot, and when canister?"
The questioning went on until Silver was entirely sure that each member of the team knew not only his own duties but those of his mates.
"Well enough," he declared finally, and looked at the sun. "Time to go," he said, and led the way.
Israel Hands came out from Camp Silver to meet him. He drew Silver aside for a word.
"It's getting worse, John," said Israel Hands. He looked at the men walking ahead. "It's all right when you've got 'em, but as for the rest of us… we're losing discipline. Most of 'em wants to be looking for Flint's gold — "
"Flint's gold be buggered!" said Silver. "It's our blasted gold!"
"I know, I know, Cap'n — but that's what they's calling it, and they wants to be a-searching for it and a-digging it up! Ben Gunn run off this morning after Billy-boy kicked his arse. And if he's run, then others might follow."
Silver sighed, and wiped the sweat from his face with a grubby handkerchief.
"Ben Gunn's a poor, broken soul," he said.
"Aye. But it ain't just him. Nor ain't it just the gold neither.
Some of 'em don't want to fight Flint when he comes, they wants to join him — anything to get aboard a ship again — and none of 'em likes digging trenches. They thinks they's gentlemen of fortune, not farmers. And they's splitting into gangs, Cap'n, and we can't do nothing if they won't pull together."
"It's this blasted island," said Silver, "there's something in the air! I'll talk to 'em, Israel. Has Black Dog done what I said?"
"Aye, Cap'n," said Israel Hands.
"Then we shall have to brace up, and hope I'm steering a true course."
He set off again, crutch thumping on the ground, parrot clenched to his shoulder, making for the camp, where all hands were mustered by the great heaps of timbers, spars and gear that were all that remained of their ship. The men looked surly and they were grumbling while the surf boomed dolefully in the background.
Silver found Billy Bones.
"What's this about Benn Gun?" said Silver.
"Never laid a hand on the bugger!"
"That ain't what I heard."
"Well… might have made him jump a bit."
"Oh, Billy! Didn't I say to treat the hands gentle?"
"Hats off!" cried Sarney Sawyer, and blew a long call on his pipe. The men stood to a poor version of attention. Silver, Billy Bones and Israel Hands stood together, facing the men, and raised their own hats in salute.
"Stand easy, lads," said Silver, "and gather round." He hopped nimbly forward, stopping by a long spar laid out in front of all the rest, drilled with a line of holes and a pile of rods laid next to it. Alongside the spar, a six-foot pyramid of timbers stood covered with a tarpaulin.
Silver looked at the men, and was shocked to see how they clustered in groups, glaring at one another. He looked from man to man. Some he could rely on to the last, like Israel Hands. Others, like Billy Bones, would go over to Flint so soon as he beckoned. Most would trim their sails to the prevailing wind. All that he could understand. But beyond that, there was a festering, suspicious anger that had no good cause, that came from Devil-knows-where, and that had to be lanced like an abscess.
"Lads…" he said, and began to speak, drawing on all his natural powers of oratory, but telling them the truth. He told the truth because he couldn't abide to lie, not even when the truth was grim.
For the truth was that all their hard work digging ramparts and mounting guns couldn't make them rich, nor even get them off the island. It was only to save their lives, since Flint would return with overwhelming force, and could drive the defenders into their forts, raise the treasure, and sail away leaving them marooned. And as for Silver's men finding the treasure for themselves… what a fine thing that would be. It could be used to bargain with Flint for a ship, except there wasn't the time nor the manpower to dig up the whole blasted island to find what only Flint knew the bearings of!
"So," said Silver, "is there any man as knows a better way, or as chooses to step forward with a question?"
There was silence. Men shuffled and sniffed and looked at one another and scratched their heads. The surf boomed, the gulls called… and no man moved. Silver had drained the abscess. By telling the full, plain truth he'd left no room for suspicion. They were sombre and miserable now, but they weren't looking to knife one another.
Ah, thought Silver, got you my buckos. Wormed, parcelled and stayed!
Having brought them down, now he must lift them up.
"But before all else, lads," he said, "we must be a crew. We must be jolly companions together."
"Uh?" they said.
"So here's two things to help. First, our calendar — " he rapped the tip of his crutch against the spar. "Mr Carpenter!"