Flint's men cheered at that, but the cheers died when, about an hour afterwards, it was seen that Scott-Owen was acting clever, and the boats of the squadron concentrated on towing her, abandoning the sloops and bringing the frigate's battery of twenty-eight twelve-pounder guns steadily closer.
So team after team of Flint's and Bentham's men took their places in the boats, and came back half-ruined. Even seamen's leathery hands had their limits, and skin and blood were shed, and a few men strained their backs and could pull no more, and — in time — others couldn't be roused, even with kicks and blows, when it came to their turn in the boats again. It was the same on all three ships. And the navy was steadily gaining.
Flint stared through his telescope at the big frigate, under tow from no less than eight boats, including a heavy longboat — ideal for the work — and all of them packed with men. Flint slammed a fist against the taffrail. What could he do?
"Cap'n," said Allardyce, daring to approach him. Daring to speak. "The hands is done in, Cap'n, and I wants to put them savages to work, but they won't go, Cap'n, and…"
"Oh!" said Flint. "Will they not indeed?" And he sought out Dreamer, among his followers in the waist. But Dark Hand saw him coming and saw the look on Flint's face. He gave an order and Flint was facing a dozen raised guns. Flint stopped, his face white, his lips black, and he wrenched a pair of pistols from his belt. Seeing their captain threatened, Walrus's crew stood behind him.
"Wait," said Dreamer, and pushed Dark Hand aside. "What do you want?"
"Your men must take their turn in the boats."
"No. We are not black slaves that do the white man's work."
Flint nearly tore his hair.
"But every man must pull his weight!" he said.
"You have not," said Dreamer.
Flint was silenced. No, he hadn't pulled his weight, and he thought of John Silver who would have been the first in the boats to encourage the rest. Flint had been very close to John Silver once…
"Dreamer, listen: pulling is men's work. It is honourable. I will go into the boats myself… if you will sit beside me and show the way to your men."
So Flint sat beside Dreamer and none could tell who enjoyed it least. But they took their turn, and came away shaking and exhausted, and by their example, three hundred Patanq warriors added their strength to the task.
There was no rest when night came. All Flint could do was change course, hauling the three ships eastward in the hope of losing the pursuit in the dark. That's what he'd have done under sail, and it would have worked. But it was no good when towing at less than one knot. Not when one ship could spot another from the masthead at twenty miles. There just weren't enough hours of darkness.
At dawn, with the tow in its twenty-fourth hour, and all hands exhausted aboard Walrus, Hercules and Sweet Anne, the sloops were out of sight but the frigate was not. Flint's ruse had failed.
Chapter 24
Billy Bones was in irons. Not proper leg-irons, for there * were none on the island. They were the best Israel Hands could forge out of iron barrel-hoops, with a flat rock as an anvil and old nails serving as rivets to close the links around Billy's left ankle.
Clang! Israel flattened the last nail, and stood up dusting the sand off his knees. He pointed his hammer at Bones, who sat scowling under a tree with his legs stretched out in front of him. Billy-boy couldn't stand. There were too few links for that, but at least he had a bit of shade.
"There!" said Israel Hands. "And serves you right if they chafe your precious skin, you no-seaman lubber. Me, I'd have slit you from ear to ear!"
"Belay that, Mr Hands," said Silver. "Just make sure the swab can't get free."
"Not him, Cap'n!" said Israel Hands. "It ain't a clean job, but it's a good 'un."
"Aye," said Silver, for it was. The crude chain ran from Billy Bones to the tree-trunk, where it was secured by an inch- thick copper bolt from Lion's keelson, passed through a hole bored in the trunk and clinched over on the other side, so nothing short of a crowbar could shift it. Silver looked down at the prisoner. "Well, Billy-boy, here you are in the bilboes and only yourself to blame, for I shan't trust you again. Not this voyage nor never."
"Bollocks!" said Billy Bones. "Go fu-"
"Ah, stow it, Billy! Don't you never say nothing new? Don't you never learn? Flint'll gut you like a herring when he comes!" There were jeers from the hands, most of whom were idling on the beach nearby, waiting for the day's orders. "And you swabs can belay that too!" cried Silver, irritated beyond measure by Bones's stupidity, who'd otherwise have been a most useful officer.
"Pah!" said Silver, and left him cursing and spitting under his tree, still loyal to the master he worshipped. Israel Hands followed with Sam Hayden — the last of the ship's boys — carrying his bag of tools. Silver looked back at the boy.
"You're to see him victualled, Sammy lad," he said. "Food and water so the bugger don't die. God knows when we might need his blasted quadrant."
"Aye-aye, Cap'n."
The rest of Silver's officers were waiting in Fort Silver by the big tent. They doffed hats as Silver appeared: Black Dog the carpenter, who wasn't gifted with brains; Blind Pew the sailmaker, who was, despite being near as mad as Ben Gunn — now rated ship's looney and left to wander; and Mr Joe, gunner's mate — a bright candle in a dark night, and Silver wished for more like him! Time was growing short now, with just thirty-seven pegs left in the timber calendar.
As ever, Silver told them the truth. There was monstrous heavy work to be done. They'd have to re-build the forts to fit smaller garrisons, levelling one completely, for there were only enough of them to man three, and they must complete the battery up at the northern inlet that Sarney Sawyer's men never finished. That and some other ideas Silver had for making life hard for Flint. Considering the ugly mood of the men, the thought of such labours brought protests, especially from Blind Pew, whose sharp mind pounced on flaws.
"Forts? But you wants to keep all hands to-ge-ther!" said Pew in his Welsh lilt. "To-ge-ther, so's we don't go splitting and fighting, yes?"
"Aye," said Silver, "I wants 'em under my hand!"
"So where's the sense in three forts and a battery? Don't that divide us?"
Silver sighed. He put his head in his hands. Pew had hit the mark dead centre.
"Now listen to me," said Silver, "I've told you why we can't just sit behind ramparts, haven't I? And how we must take the fight to Flint or we're lost?"
"Aye," they said.
"And the best chance of doing that is with ourselves in more than one strong place so we can move round the island."
"But…" said Pew.
"Wait!" said Silver raising his hand. "I knows we might split among ourselves. I knows nothing's certain, and I'm just hoping to spot some chance when it comes, for if we sits in one place, then Flint'll trap us in it, and keep us in it, then leave us to die on this blasted island like that poor bloody Jesuit and his mates."
There was silence.
"So," said Silver, "let him speak up as has a better plan, say I!"
Nobody spoke. Not even Pew. There was no more argument. Silver nodded, and moved on to the new design for the forts.
"See here," he said, producing a drawing. "This is a star fort, what can be held by as few as a dozen men…"