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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
the build of a jockey, whose deep, almost blue-black skin had
fascinated Emily on sight. He had been so amused by her
regard that he expanded on it at every meeting with a yet
more implausible story of his native land.
In this place of oppression and silence, he had been like
Hawkes one of the few comfortable acquaintances Emily had
made, and she thought him too gentle, too good-humored for
the life. Now, however, there was nothing gentle about him;
the veins stood out in his neck as he hurled himself forward
at the captain. He never got close; recognizing the signs of a
man pushed too far, he was suddenly surrounded by fellow
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Captain's Surrender
by Alex Beecroft
sailors, trying to calm him down or, failing that, to drown out
his accusing voice.
"Chips, leave him be."
"Come back here to the boy; we've to move him."
"Let it go! Sully, let it go!"
But Suleiman would not let it go. He drew himself up to his
full height of five-foot-one and in a loud voice demanded,
"Aren't none of you angry? Han't any of you got the guts the
young missy's got? We all fucking know who killed these men.
We all know it! Han't any of you the stones to stand up and
make it stop?"
"Leave. Now." The second lieutenant came up beside
Emily, his hand on his sword, loosening it in its scabbard. At
the sight she realized the peril imagined the gun deck
erupting into violence. The officers were armed with swords,
and marines were even now filing in behind them with rifles
and bayonets in their hands, but the men had cannonballs
and cartridges of gunpowder. If it came to a fight, she could
vividly imagine the carnage. So close they lived to this
avalanche of barbarism. Her glorious anger faded at the
thought, and fear replaced it. She shook out her skirts,
squeezed between the line of rifles and ran away, feeling
cowardly and humiliated and desperately afraid.
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Captain's Surrender
by Alex Beecroft
Chapter 6
"Are..." After the rigors of punishment day, Walker had
retired to his cabin to rest, and Summersgill found Peter
Kenyon standing very stiffly on the quarterdeck in the
isolation of profound shame. "Are you well?"
He couldn't tell whether the rigid posture was due to pain
or to the unbearable affront to his dignity, but he suspected
the latter. It was a matter of embarrassment even to himself
to acknowledge the atrocity.
Kenyon had observed that some leniency might be possible
in the sentencing of Suleiman Chips, "a good man, overcome
by a temporary fit of grief", and on hearing Walker sentence
him to keelhauling, had objected that keelhauling had been
banned by act of parliament some years ago as too barbaric a
punishment for naval use.
One could argue that he had known the risk he was taking,
speaking up the captain's warning was unequivocal but
nevertheless not a single man on board had imagined Walker
would really go through with his threat. It tore a hole in the
laws of nature to suppose an officer and a gentleman could be
treated like a common man. The sense of disorientation, of
the world gone mad, was more frightening than the
punishment itself.
Summersgill himself, not bound by naval tradition, had left
the quarterdeck so that he might not see his young friend
being flogged like a common tar, and now Kenyon
acknowledged that kindness by a slight lift of the lips. "I'm
prime, thank you, sir. Yourself?"
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Captain's Surrender
by Alex Beecroft
"I admit to feeling somewhat oppressed." Summersgill
looked down to where the body of Chips lay sewn into a
hammock. "Something has to be done," he said. "Must you
bear this? Can you not call him out? I swear to God if he had
done the same to me, I would!"
Kenyon smiled, as though charmed by the thought of
Summersgill dueling. True, he was not the most likely
combatant, but there were some insults even the most
peaceable of men could not endure. Honor would demand
action, even from him.
"The captain would be quite within his rights to refuse a
challenge," Kenyon said softly, his voice rough. Frowning at
the sound of it, he turned away to watch the sea. His hands
were white on the rail, and there was a persistent tremor in
the muscles of his arms. "It isn't possible to maintain
discipline in a ship where the officers are fighting duels over
every trifling slight. We must learn to accept a certain amount
of humiliation in the exercise of our duty, so the admiralty
says. And if I were to fight him despite a refusal, not only
would it be murder, but it could well precipitate the mutiny
we fear."
"Would that be such a bad thing?"
Kenyon laughed, ducking his head. The movement
concealed his eyes but bared the spreading bloodstain on his
collar. Summersgill looked away quickly, as he would from
any obscenity.
"It has the potential to be very bad indeed. Yesterday I
would have said I could hold the crew together through my
own authority." The half hidden smile shaded into bitterness.
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Captain's Surrender
by Alex Beecroft
"But you've seen what has become of that. And the authority
of the other officers, with me. If we may be punished like
ordinary men, why should we be obeyed like gods?"
"You're saying it wouldn't stop with the captain?"
"Exactly so." Kenyon raised his head. With the sea shining
behind him only the small lines of endurance around his
mouth distinguished him from the figure of a martial saint
painted on a church wall. "I don't think they would kill me at
first the stripes might save me for a few days, until they
realized I wasn't going to join them. I don't think they would
kill you or your wife..." he sighed, "but it would not surprise
me either. They would certainly kill possibly torment young
Hawkes and his messmates. Anderson, too, if he survives the
surgery. And I hope I do not need to mention the fate that
would be suffered by your ward and her maid. You have no
conception, sir, of what these men are capable of when their
blood is up."
Peter shuddered. It was only a small, involuntary flinch,
but from a man who faced Walker every day, it spoke
volumes. Summersgill thought about Emily and the twelve-
year-old "young gentlemen" and felt his throat close with
dread. He drew out his handkerchief and pressed it to his lips,
forcing himself to breathe in the calming smell of lavender.
"Sir?" said Kenyon, watching as Chips' tie-mate, Boyd,
made to shake his fist at the quarterdeck. The coxswain
caught the arm, pulled it down, and hurried him away,
pressing a packet of tobacco into his hands. "If I can keep the
crew together until we strike soundings in St. George, can
you get the captain removed once we arrive?"
55
Captain's Surrender
by Alex Beecroft
"I think I can!" Summersgill had not been thinking so far
ahead, but now he thought about Admirals Sullivan and
DeBourne who both had sons involved in minor smuggling
activities. They would undoubtedly prefer the young men to
be gently warned rather than prosecuted. "Yes, yes, almost
certainly. If I write the letters today I can have him diverted
into a career in the dockyards within a quarter ... or perhaps
better say a half year." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
