Journey to the Forgotten Island

Chapter 9 - Mutiny in the Dark

Toma stumbled out onto the quarterdeck. The outside was pitch black compared to the candlelight of the cabin behind him. The shouts and jeers were louder from the main deck where the soldiers and sailors were gathered. All around him, the cavalry and remaining infantry gathered, shouting above each other to explain the situation.

'We're outnumbered, Captain,' one man said, though Toma could not see his face in the darkness.

'There's twenty of the infantries joined fifteen of the sailors – with Stefano taken there's only fifteen cavalrymen and five loyal infantrymen.'

Toma could hear the fear in their voices. He looked back into the Mantecas' cabin and, without saying a word, he shut the door.

'What should we do, Captain?' a floating voice said.

'I say we get the crossbows and shoot them down now,' a gruff voice said, 'shoot the lot of 'em.'

'Damned archers, why are they on the other boat?'

'Never mind the archers, we have no horses aboard! No, we can't interfere. They'll stop when the sun rises. Then we can punish the ringleaders.'

'Fool! They'll have taken the boat by then – we need to escape on the row boats while they're still drunk in the dark.'

'Quiet!' Toma shouted. He looked at his clenched fist and saw the carving knife with lamb's blood still firm in his grip. 'Men, gather the shields and pikes. We will barge our way onto the main deck and seize Fero, the man who leads the drinking and the fighting.'

The men went quiet at the order and for a moment Toma thought their fear would push them to disobey him. But one of the men shouted, 'To the armoury!' and several men followed.

Toma handed his knife to an infantryman and rushed to his cabin. As he entered, he was hit with the whiff of Ximena's perfume and she laughed at his manic state.

'Poor Adelmo – always perplexed!' she giggled.

Toma shouted at her, 'Quiet, woman! There's to be a mutiny – aren't you afraid?'

Ximena laughed again. She was lying on her side reading a poetry leaflet on her bed, the only bed in the cabin, which Toma had left for her, choosing to sleep on one of the divans on the other side of the room. 'I'm not surprised,' she said. 'You've been gorging on lamb and southern wine every night while they are stuck with a hunk of hard, dry bread and wine so watered down that a baby could drink it and stay sober.' She laughed again, unperturbed by the booming noises on the main deck.

Toma shook his head and grabbed his sword and leather armour before running back to his men.

They arranged themselves as a hard shell of shields protected from all sides, with pikes poking out in between the shields. Toma shouted the command and they descended the stairs in the darkness, carefully stepping downward onto the main deck. The riotous sailors tried at first to push against the shielded brigade but were warded off by the pikes. Down on the main deck, several scattered fires provided more light and Toma could make out, through the tall shields, the mass of drunk sailors and soldiers. As his eyes adjusted to the faint flickering light, he began to see the grey forms and outlines. The main deck was a chaos of broken wood and empty barrels. Several men lay on the floor, probably unconscious from all the undiluted wine they had stolen.

A drunk soldier threw himself between the pikes and into the shields to test Toma's men but he bounced off and fell to the floor. Toma was nestled in the centre of his circle of men, holding the handle of his sheathed sword, trying not to be thrown off by the stench of sweat, vomit and putrefied wine from nights worth of drinking on the main deck. With the lack of sea breeze, he struggled to keep the lamb meat from his dinner down in his stomach.