To be a pirate or a king's man?

Chapter 7 - Seeds of Choice

Chapter 7

Sam woke in a broad hammock, the ceiling above him swaying gently. His eyes opened slowly as he breathed out. He tried to lift his head, but a spasm of pain sent his skull back into the soft surface it had risen from, as he gasped in excruciating pain. "I wouldn't do that if I were you; there's not many as can survive a keelhauling by staying on their back, but you've certainly paid the price for it." Morgan's voice sounded from next to Sam's right ear. He tried to turn his head, but found that he couldn't. "Fortunately, my surgeon says that there's nothing lasting, but you'll be bed bound for a few weeks. It's lucky you're young, really. Any older and you'd not be able to walk properly again, if you could even stand." 

"Did anyone else survive?" Sam asked, half dreading the answer.

"The keelhauling? Oh, quite a few, quite a few. About eight of the ten or eleven that we captured," Morgan said, and Sam's heart lifted. "But, four more died of their injuries and the others are in a similar state to you, and one probably won't survive."

"Who?" Dreading the answer even more, Sam asked. He had to know.

"Oh, some feller named Johnson. The others that survived are the big black quartermaster. Flint, I think his name was. The second was Crick, that first one we did. And the last was Jenkins, the little cabin boy. Sam felt relief wash over him. James was safe, or as safe as he could be on a ship full of evil men. "So James is alive." he said.

"Aye, although I'd sooner he wasn't. Lost quite a bit of coin betting against him and the cabin boy. Made most of it back with you and Flint though, hardly anyone bet on you." Morgan said thoughtfully, musing on the sad loss of a few coins. Sam felt the relief at good news erased by his anger at the smug captain sitting only a few inches away from him. He tried to turn his head and shout, but the spasm of pain that acompanied the action silenced him. He lay on his back, breathing angrily. "You bet on our lives? What sort if men are you, to put your coin before a man's life? Monsters, blaggarts, cowards, thieves, murde-"

"Pirates." the captain interrupted. Sam could imagine him shrugging, nonchalantly and uncaring of the man that was lying in the hammock next to him. He gritted his teeth and lay back, without saying a word to the cruel man that sat or stood next to him. After a few minutes, he heard Morgan leaving the cabin. Sam closed his eyes and tried to sleep, keeping the anger that was curled up in a ball within him, saving it for when he could use it. 

For four more weeks, he lay in that hammock, listening to the sounds of he ship outside the cabin and feeling his wounds slowly heal. After a week, he could move his head and lift his arms slightly. In another half a week, he could move his ankles and feet, and lift his arms above his head. By two weeks, he could prop himself on his arms, bending his back slightly. By the third week, he was able to shuffle slowly around the room for a while, leaning on a stick. In four weeks, he could walk normally, if a bit more slowly than he was able, and do small lifting. Morgan visited every day and they talked, but sometimes Sam was completely unreceptive. Other times, he was content to talk, but never jest or laugh. Morgan, however, laughed freely and jested about matters big and small alike. He told Sam why one day in the third week of Sam's recovery, "It's because I never laughed before I sailed." he explained, "I was the son of a tavern owner, and so had never had a cause to laugh, so hardly anyone could ever draw a laugh from me.

"Then I heard the stories of the sailors in the tavern and grew fascinated by them. I watched the ships at harbour whenever I could, and one day I stole that knife you had and hid aboard a ship, stowing away until we were on the open seas. Then I heard some men coming down to the stores where I was hidden. One of them told a joke - I've quite forgotten it now - but it made me laugh so hard that I rolled from my cover and was discovered. The men brought me before the captain, but he took pity on me, thinking me an orphan, and enlisted me on the ship. I learnt how to sail and laugh, and eventually become a pirate, but that's a story for another day." Morgan finished speaking and leaned back. "Anyway, I have affairs of ship to deal with, and I can't tell stories all day. Farewell and recover quickly, Sam." Morgan rose and left, leaving a memory of his tale and of his laughing mask in Sam's mind.

The next few months, Sam was able to stand on deck and do simple tasks like move supplies around the ship to where they were needed, help in the galley and document supplies after the occasional raids that the pirates did upon other ships. Sam soon learnt why the vessel was called Stormprow. The thunder he had heard on the Duchess before he was taken had been the bow cannons of the ship, six long nines in all, firing bar shot. That was how the Stormprow took ships without taking much damage herself. The long nines out-ranged the stern cannon that most ships equipped if they even had them, and so were perfect for disabling a ship whilst from behind or even from the side. Aimed lower, they could do serious damage to a ship's hull and when loaded with grape shot could fire small, deadly steel rain on the enemy men.

The sound when the long-barreled nine pounders fired was like a thunderclap, so Morgan had named his vessel in honour of them. Three times Sam saw them in full action, and three times he was amazed by the ingenuity of William Morgan's strategy. To save weight in the bow, the long nines were stored amidships when not in use, which was clever, but they were a nuisance on the poop and first deck, which was where they were fired from as well; three on the poop and three on the first. There were none on the lowest deck as they would have been too heavy and too low to be effective. Sam slowly recovered, admiring the spirit and the work that was held and done by the crew. 

Given enough time, he was able to move as he had before, and joined the crew in their daily schedule. Morgan seemed to have forgotten about his offer of command, but he sent new sailing clothes to replace the ones that had been torn up by Sam's hanging, exile and keelhauling. There was a plain white cotton shirt, grey cotton trousers, a pair of old brown boots and a black belt with a loop for a sword. Sam wasn't happy sailing with pirates, but being with James to work again was good, and the crew of pirates clearly enjoyed sailing with Captain Morgan. "He's a fair captain when it comes to rewards and mercy, and he don't hold back the rum after a good raid." one of the sailors told Sam when he asked.

Sam didn't feel that a keelhauling was a fair treatment of hostages, and the bodies of Jones and the others that had died in the keelhauling were hung from the end of the yards on the mainmast, held in gibbets that Morgan must have kept for the occasion when he got to display his spoils. Sam looked up every morning and saw them hanging there; each day there was less flesh on them and gulls circled them constantly, pecking at the scraps that were accessible from outside before flying away.

That Morgan was fair in rewards was true; each man got his pay each week, although Sam had not seen any opportunities to spend it apart from the gambling that was common on the ship. After a successful raid, the pirates would swarm on to the poop deck of their ship and each get an extra rum ration from the captain before dancing surprisingly good small band that was made up of members of the crew with instruments. The parties never got too out of hand though, and the men were expected to return to their beds before the moon was halfway across the night sky.

As he lay in his hammock after one of these parties, Sam thought that maybe the life of a pirate may not be such a bad life after all. No, Sam. Stop thinking like that. Every pirate ends his life at the end of a rope. First chance you get, get ashore and leave these men behind you. Sam quickly scolded himself for thinking that piracy was a good life, and hurriedly rolled over to sleep and forget that he had ever thought such a thing.