Read Online Fire on Dark Water by Wendy Perriman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Wendy Perriman
Ads: Link
the table leg. And when he blustered out of the room, puffing with fury, the ship exploded into chaos about him.
Now, I ain’t never been so despondent as in that long blank timelessness curled up in the straining dark, listening to the panic. I found out later what happened. The captain ordered a full crew turnout and organized a thorough search of the prison quarters. Line by line the men were dragged up the ladder through the hatch into the moonlight, where they were stripped naked and inspected by the doctor. Anyone foolish enough to speak was instantly flogged with the cat. Then they were chained to the ringbolts to watch the next line of men being processed. About halfway through emptying the hold, one of the seamen let out a yell, followed by a huge commotion. Several other sailors sprang down, only to discover the unfortunate tar grasping at a pair of shears that had been thrust through the side of his neck. Someone cried out for the doctor, but there was little he could do because the scissors had severed the victim’s splaying vein. Meanwhile, the two prisoners who’d freed themselves from their shackles were being mercilessly pummeled by a hoard of angry crewmen—and one of these unfortunates was Charlie. When the escapees were bludgeoned almost unconscious they were hauled up the ladder, stripped naked, and lashed either side of the foremast. The rest of the prisoners were brought up on deck, and even the women were chained up this time. I listened with mounting fear, trying to guess the turn of events. But even in my farthest imagination I couldn’t never have conjured up what happened next.
The cabin door flew open and the quartermaster’s burning mane lit up the gap. He cut my wrists from the table legs and mangled my arm up my back to propel me outside. Every soul on board was now gathered around the waist deck. Every pair of eyes there to witness my disgrace. I was marched to the top of the steps at the edge of the quarterdeck where Captain Mack stood waiting. He twisted my hair into a rope and viciously pulled my head in place, squashed tight against his chest. I saw the dead sailor laid out on top of the skiff, saw the shears—and realized in a long sticky moment of forever that I had stupidly been caught. This was the one thing they could trace back to me! Hot tears scaled my skin as snot began bubbling at the tip of my nose. And then I saw Charlie lashed to the mast and my involuntary wails echoed round the shadowy ship. Several of the women began crying too and all of us shuddered against the night air, awaiting some terrible retribution.
The gunner fired a pistol in the air and a gradual hush descended. Captain Mack yelled through the speaking trumpet, “Be done with your babble! Listen up.” All ears obeyed. He pointed to the crumpled men lashed to the masts and said, “These two scurvy bilge rats have been planning a wee insurrection aided, so it would seem, by this here lassie.” All faces turned in my direction. I hung my head, awaiting the blow that would set it rolling. “Witness your eyes how we deal with rebellion, so you won’t ever be tempted to such foolhardiness again.” He signaled for the quartermaster, who arrived with the most ferocious leather whip I’ve ever encountered and stood alongside Charlie, awaiting the order. “A hundred lashes!” the captain commanded. And everyone gaped in anticipation. One of the crew lit the scene with a lantern and only then did I notice the gashes on Charlie’s wrists where he’d struggled to free himself from the iron shackles. He was barely conscious, and after twenty-some strokes he seemed to slip away on a maelstrom of flying gore.
I heard the quartermaster roar, “Damn my soul if I don’t bleed you a death that will make this rabble remember for a century!” When fifty of the blistering cracks had been delivered the body was turned to provide a fresh canvas and Kimble allowed the boatswain to take over. The prisoner’s
Now, I ain’t never been so despondent as in that long blank timelessness curled up in the straining dark, listening to the panic. I found out later what happened. The captain ordered a full crew turnout and organized a thorough search of the prison quarters. Line by line the men were dragged up the ladder through the hatch into the moonlight, where they were stripped naked and inspected by the doctor. Anyone foolish enough to speak was instantly flogged with the cat. Then they were chained to the ringbolts to watch the next line of men being processed. About halfway through emptying the hold, one of the seamen let out a yell, followed by a huge commotion. Several other sailors sprang down, only to discover the unfortunate tar grasping at a pair of shears that had been thrust through the side of his neck. Someone cried out for the doctor, but there was little he could do because the scissors had severed the victim’s splaying vein. Meanwhile, the two prisoners who’d freed themselves from their shackles were being mercilessly pummeled by a hoard of angry crewmen—and one of these unfortunates was Charlie. When the escapees were bludgeoned almost unconscious they were hauled up the ladder, stripped naked, and lashed either side of the foremast. The rest of the prisoners were brought up on deck, and even the women were chained up this time. I listened with mounting fear, trying to guess the turn of events. But even in my farthest imagination I couldn’t never have conjured up what happened next.
The cabin door flew open and the quartermaster’s burning mane lit up the gap. He cut my wrists from the table legs and mangled my arm up my back to propel me outside. Every soul on board was now gathered around the waist deck. Every pair of eyes there to witness my disgrace. I was marched to the top of the steps at the edge of the quarterdeck where Captain Mack stood waiting. He twisted my hair into a rope and viciously pulled my head in place, squashed tight against his chest. I saw the dead sailor laid out on top of the skiff, saw the shears—and realized in a long sticky moment of forever that I had stupidly been caught. This was the one thing they could trace back to me! Hot tears scaled my skin as snot began bubbling at the tip of my nose. And then I saw Charlie lashed to the mast and my involuntary wails echoed round the shadowy ship. Several of the women began crying too and all of us shuddered against the night air, awaiting some terrible retribution.
The gunner fired a pistol in the air and a gradual hush descended. Captain Mack yelled through the speaking trumpet, “Be done with your babble! Listen up.” All ears obeyed. He pointed to the crumpled men lashed to the masts and said, “These two scurvy bilge rats have been planning a wee insurrection aided, so it would seem, by this here lassie.” All faces turned in my direction. I hung my head, awaiting the blow that would set it rolling. “Witness your eyes how we deal with rebellion, so you won’t ever be tempted to such foolhardiness again.” He signaled for the quartermaster, who arrived with the most ferocious leather whip I’ve ever encountered and stood alongside Charlie, awaiting the order. “A hundred lashes!” the captain commanded. And everyone gaped in anticipation. One of the crew lit the scene with a lantern and only then did I notice the gashes on Charlie’s wrists where he’d struggled to free himself from the iron shackles. He was barely conscious, and after twenty-some strokes he seemed to slip away on a maelstrom of flying gore.
I heard the quartermaster roar, “Damn my soul if I don’t bleed you a death that will make this rabble remember for a century!” When fifty of the blistering cracks had been delivered the body was turned to provide a fresh canvas and Kimble allowed the boatswain to take over. The prisoner’s
Similar Books
