Hansumbob, sitting on the deck, unlit pipe hanging from the corner of his mouth. “What do it mean again?”
“As I explained, it means ‘the star that is found.’ ”
“Well, Paul, it ’peers to me that’s what we should call her. Found Star.”
Thus it came to be. The vessel would officially bear the nameplate Étoile Trouvée, which would help confound any authorities suspicious of the doings of an American-named ship with Star in its name. The crew worried that their reputation preceded them. For all other purposes she was the Found Star, or as the men called her, the Star.
“One more piece of business.” Quince seemed to be relishing this moment. “Another vote. A vote on whether Cheatum and Smithers finally deserve a tot of rum.”
The spell was broken. The crew all laughed, slapping Cheatum and Smithers on the back. In high spirits, the men split into small groups to begin their final chores. Cheatum and Smithers both stole quick glances at Jack and hoisted themselves over the side. The looks were not lost on the young man.
BOOK THREE
22
EAST 121° SOUTH 8°
FOUR DAYS AWAY from the islet that had been their home for almost a year and a half, Jack saw the last of the island birds swoop toward the fantail of the ship, gathering the sparse scraps Quen-Li had thrown overboard. For the past week, knowing they were under way again, Jack’s resolve in regard to de Silva had strengthened. At last there was a real chance that “compensation,” as Quince had called it, might be in the offing. A current of excitement ran through his body as he climbed with Paul to the top of the mainmast to shorten sail. They could see for miles. Not a wisp of cloud obscured their view of a vast blue sea.
“A horse, a horse. My kingdom for a horse,” Paul said.
Jack grinned. “What are you blabbering about?”
“Oh, nothing. I was simply wondering if I would ever see the meadows and woods of Virginia again.”
“Not if certain members of this crew have anything to say about it.”
“Yes. I’ve taken to sleeping with one eye open.”
“Not a bad idea, my learned friend.”
Jack looked down and found Cheatum glancing up into the rigging.
The second mate stopped in the waist of the ship and shouted to all within earshot but to no one in particular, “I own part of this scow, and I want privileges!”
The six or seven crew members who could hear ignored him; they continued working, not wanting to make eye contact.
“You hear me, you bunch of lubbers? I want respect!”
“Doesn’t one have to earn respect?” whispered Paul. “Or am I just being old-fashioned?”
“The only respect Cheatum understands is a fist in the belly,” said Jack.
Jack started down the ratline. By the time he and Paul were down, Quince had come on deck.
“What’s this about respect?” Quince asked.
“I did more than my share on this tub, and considerin’ my knowledge and the number of years I been to sea, I think I deserve it.”
“You deserve no more or less than any other tar aboard this ship. And don’t let me hear you talk of it again.” Quince turned his back and walked to the rail on the port side.
Cheatum began an animated argument with Smithers and several of the crew members. Quince turned.
“Cheat—what the hell are you doing? It seems you’re not content unless you’re stirring something up.”
“Not at all. I just want what’s mine.”
Quince adjusted his empty right sleeve and strolled methodically toward him. “And what do you think is yours?”
Cheatum puffed out his chest and spoke not only to Quince but to the rest of the crew. “I want twenty-five percent of this ship.”
Jack leaned against the port rail, wondering what it would take to shut this lout’s mouth.
“Aye,” Cheatum continued, “I think it only fair. Quince, you and me be the most experienced dogs on board. I think we divide it in half and the rest goes to the crew. What say ye?”
“I say you’re daft, man. Every man on board has broken his back to put this ship together, so put a stopper in it and lay on some work, sailor.”
“Who put you in charge?” The two crusty salts glared at each other, Cheatum with a bully’s grin on his face, Quince with a sense of resignation. Seconds passed like minutes. The entire crew assembled on deck, waiting to see who would emerge victorious in this confrontation that had seemed inevitable since the Star piled up on the rocks.
“After Mr. Mancy died, I was the senior person,” Quince said. “No one put me in charge. It was just the natural turn of events.”
“Well, I don’t see it that way. The way I see it, you was in charge as long as the Star was a goin’ concern. But this ship is different.”
“Different how?”
“It’s a whole new ship. I say we start from scratch. We choose who we want as skipper. What say ye, lads?” Silence. “All those in favor of choosing a cap’n, raise your right arm.” Cheatum smirked at Quince’s empty sleeve.
The men were silent.
“Dammit to all. Speak up, you bunch of lubbers. You know you don’t want this one-armed gimp as your leader. Speak up.”
The men stood frozen, expressionless.
“I’ll be in charge, at least until we get to Manila,” Quince said evenly.
Jack knew the first mate was in a tough position with his right arm gone, and he itched to say something on his behalf, but he held back, thinking his words would do more harm than good.
“Which reminds me,” Cheatum pressed. “Why was it decided to go to Manila in the first place? Who made that decision?”
Quince stared hard at the second mate. “Before my accident, you would never have spoken to me in this manner….” His voice trailed off, and he shrugged. “All right, you son of a whore. Take out your blade. I’ll do you with my left hand.”
Cheatum’s smile split his ugly face; Jack knew this was exactly what he wanted.
The men began clearing the way for the confrontation. They made a large circle, excited by the prospects of seeing a fight to the end. With weapons in hand, Quince and Cheatum began circling each other for several minutes, making ineffectual thrusts.
“I’ll slice you fore and aft, you pumped-up pig,” Cheatum grunted.
Jack knew he had to act if the ship was to survive. He stepped between them, combative, facing Cheatum.
“Cheat, you’re well named. You are, indeed.” Jack could hear Quince breathing hard behind him.
“Step away, Jack. I’ll deal with you later.” Cheatum frowned.
“No. The way I see it, you’re taking unfair advantage. You’ve goaded a weakened man into a fight you know he can’t win. I won’t allow that to happen.”
“Let it be, Jack,” Quince said. “It’s inevitable. I’ll take him. Step aside.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Quince,” Jack continued, “once he dispatches you, I’ll be next. Probably in my sleep, if I know the second mate—and I think I do.”
With a grunt, Quince collapsed.
“You see, Cheat, your foe is down with nary a scratch on him. Wouldn’t you feel proud to bury your cutter in his helpless hulk?”
With a guttural yell, Cheatum lunged at the younger man. Jack stepped aside with contempt and seized Cheatum’s right wrist, twisting it into the air. The demonic look that the crew had seen before came into his eyes. The sharp blade dropped to the deck, where it stuck and quivered. Cheatum’s scream of pain was stifled as Jack locked his left arm around his neck and forced the bigger man to his knees.