An Inception of Piracy Chapter 10

10

Giovanni was assigned the larboard watch, opposite that of Matthews, Douglas taking whatever precautions he could against the two conspiring. The Sophie, like most merchant ships, was shorthanded and the two new arrivals were put to work immediately. It was, after all, free labor to Douglass. The work was hard, just like on any ship, the captain and mates more brutal than some, less than others. Some captains towed the line between keeping their crews fearful and working and beating them to death better than others. Douglass was not always sure of where that line was. The man Giovanni saw hanging in the rigging was cut down the second day he was aboard. Giovanni learned his name was Edward Chambers. His crime was falling asleep on his watch. Edward was also part of the larboard watch so he was below when Giovanni was. The other men took care of him as best they could but he was dead within the week, never having returned to duty. He left a young bride and son in Boston.

Unless an order was given that forced them to work together, the rest of the crew kept their distance from Giovanni, afraid that they too would be contaminated by his alleged crime. They had no love for their captain but they didn’t want to make things any harder for themselves. Giovanni and Matthews fell into the work quickly and because the storm raged for three more days, they were all too busy to single out the new arrivals for ‘special treatment.’ But the weather eventually moderated as they entered the trades, Chambers was thrown over the side and Giovanni found himself in a new level of hell.

“Come on you damn mutineer, put your back into it!” Giovanni was at the pumps and braced himself as well as he could for the blow. Smack! The rope fell hard on his back. He tried to pump harder.

“Mr Boyle!”

“Sir!” Boyle straightened up and let the rope fall to his side. Giovanni kept pumping.

“Is the mutineer slacking in his duty?” Giovanni no longer had a name on the ship. The lower deck didn’t talk to him at all and those in authority only referred to him as ‘the mutineer.’

“Aye, useless as a fish’s tit sir!”

Giovanni heard the thumping of boots on the deck and knew it was Parr. Giovanni saw through the spotless coat and polished boots to an uneducated brute. The boots. They were always shiny and he never wore them in foul weather. He was one of those men who had risen to a position of some authority and attempted to make himself seem more than he was. Outwardly, he was fastidious about his appearance, as if a clean coat and gleaming boots could make him a gentleman. In his position he would not tolerate the least perceived insult and he wanted to make sure all the men on the ship feared him. Hundreds of miles from the nearest land and beyond the reach of any court, his power was very real. He, by the authority of the captain, his uncle, literally had the power of life and death. Giovanni had seen that power in all it’s ugliness when the tortured body of Chambers went over the side. He tried to make his exhausted muscles push the bar harder. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the boots next to him.

“Perhaps he needs some additional...motivation.” The next blow caught Giovanni totally unprepared. As he relaxed for a moment as the pump handle came up, Parr punched him hard in the stomach. He crumpled to the deck, gasping for air. Parr then kicked him in the ribs and in the back as he rolled over. “Bloody mutineer!” He then kicked him in the side of the head. Giovanni saw stars for a moment. “Damn, you’ve bloodied my boots! Clean it off!” It took Giovanni a moment to reorient himself. Something wet hit him in the side of his face. “Clean it off!” Giovanni took the rag that had been thrown at him and crawled over to Parr. Drops of blood from a gash above his ear followed him on the deck. He slowly wiped up the blood. He heard Parr laugh.

“The man has made a mess of the deck, have him scrub it from stem to stern,” he ordered. “Perhaps we will find something he won’t make a donkey’s breakfast of.” He jerked his foot away and quickly returned to the quarterdeck.

“You heard him,” added Boyle. “Get your finger out!” With another whack of the rope to motivate him, Giovanni stumbled to his feet and went to get a bucket. His head was throbbing and as he got the bucket to the side, he vomited what little breakfast he had had. He heard Boyle laughing at his discomfort in the background. He threw the bucket over the side and hauled it up, seething in anger, body wracked with pain. He carried it to the foredeck and dropped to his hands and knees. He scrubbed and scrubbed, forcing his anger into the deck with each push of the rag. Men moved around him, orders came from the quarterdeck but he withdrew into his own little world. He wanted to die, just end it. It would be easy, just jump over the side. No, he’d want to kill Parr first, and Boyle. Then they could do to him what they wanted. After all, what did he have to lose? As they continually reminded him, he was a dead man walking. As soon as they got to Virginia he would be turned over and tried for mutiny. With no one but Matthews, accused of the same crime, to defend him and no record to exonerate him, the sentence would be foreordained. Why not just end it now, be done with it. No, he’d never be able to do it. He may be able to sneak up on Boyle and batter him with a belaying pin or something but it would be very difficult to get to Parr, prancing about on the quarterdeck, eye on him constantly. He could wait for some opportunity....no, what was he thinking? He had to endure, he had to find a way out, a way back to Genoa, to his family, to his father. He needed to do what he was told, try to give them as little cause to mistreat him as possible and endure. He sighed heavily. It wasn't going to be easy.

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Dearest Father,

I find myself farther and farther from you and those I love. I am now on a ship bound for Virginia in the New World and treated like a common criminal. The circumstances that have brought me thus are not important though it was a remarkable run of bad fortune. The English have continually demonstrated to me their total lack of civility. The ship is a merchantman and while I saw what I thought was horrific abuse in the navy, it all pales in comparison to that which takes place on a merchantman. In the lowest dungeons they have not treated men so! The captain is unaccountable and rules his floating kingdom as a hellish monarch of absolute power. A man was tortured to death the first week I was aboard and I only hope to avoid such a fate. I suffer humiliation to such a degree I find myself almost too ashamed to show myself before you again. My honor so wounded that if I could but find a gentleman among these fiends I would call him out and let our skill with blade or shot restore my good name. But alas, I fear that such a move would just result in my meaningless death for the numbers are too great. So I suffer in silence though my thoughts turn to places so dark I hardly dare admit them to myself.

This note will have to be short. I don’t know what fate awaits me in Virginia but I still hope to be restored to you and mother with all Godspeed. I miss you all and think of you constantly, the hope of our reunion is all that keeps me going.

Your loving son,

Giovanni

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He saw Matthews occasionally and after they were both beaten for having exchanged a few words, they contented themselves with sympathetic glances now and again. He would notice a black eye or a noticeable limp by his friend and know he was getting the same kind of abuse. The days slowly turned to weeks and at the end of the second Giovanni knew they must be getting close to the New World and their ultimate destination. The passage had been a good one and although the vessel was not fast, she was seakindly and held a lot of cargo for her size. He was of mixed emotions as they neared the conclusion of their voyage. He had been at sea for almost two years without setting foot on dry land and he longed for it. He was also going to be very relieved not to be under the thumbs of Douglass, Parr and Boyle and suffering their constant verbal and physical abuse. Yet they incessantly reminded him that he would be hanged within a week of their arrival. He had little experience with the courts in Genoa, none in England, and he held little faith that the cruel and arbitrary system and culture in which he found himself would be either just or fair. He found it difficult to believe he could be convicted and sentenced to death on the assumption of Douglass. But even if the most serious charge of mutiny couldn’t be proved, desertion could be assumed and at the minimum, he may be sentenced to serve on another ship after some form of punishment. He just didn’t know. All he had was his experience with the English thus far to guide him and that gave him little hope.

These are the things that went through his mind as he lay in his hammock, staring at an odd shaped knot in the planking above him, waiting for his watch to be called. In his semi-wakefulness, he didn’t hear the patter of bare feet on the companionway steps. Suddenly a blow on his back through the hammock startled him fully awake and before he could ascertain who his attacker was, he was dumped on to the deck.

“Get up you lazy sod!” yelled Boyle, kicking him again for good measure. “Cap’n needs you a bit early today, you have to pick up the slack for your mate. He made a real clanger on his watch, not going to be doin’ much while he’s strung up!”

Giovanni stumbled to the companionway and made his way up, again prodded by a rope across the back by Boyle. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the morning light and his gaze quickly fell on Matthews, bleeding from several gashes on his face and arms, hanging by his thumbs and ankles in the foremast shrouds. He was writhing in pain, his normally cheerful expression tortured and distorted by his anguish and the many blows he had received. Giovanni shot an angry look at Boyle.

“Watch it boy or you’ll find yourself in the same spot....or worse. Now get to the deck where he left off!” Boyle pointed to the bucket and dingbat for swabbing the deck. Giovanni looked at it and took a step toward it but something inside him made him stop. The groans and cries of Matthews burned in his ears and the injustice of it all, from the press gang to Littlewort, Quinn and Dugal to Valleck’s death and his present treatment rose up within him like a huge volcano ready to blow it’s top. He turned back to Boyle.

“No.”

Boyle’s eyes went wide with astonishment for a moment then narrowed in sadistic anger. He grabbed the knotted rope with both hands, twisting it, ready to strike.

“Don’t you jaw with me you damn mutineer!” He raised the rope to strike but Giovanni was on him more quickly, punching and screaming. They fell to the deck and Giovanni grabbed Boyle’s knife from it’s sheath. Boyle tried to grab him but Giovanni was gone, running across the deck to where Matthews was hanging, knife in hand. He grabbed the shroud and was about to swing himself up when everything went black.

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The first thing he noticed when he came to was pain, excruciating pain in his arms, his hands, his chest and his head. He heard screaming and it was a moment before he realized that the noise was coming from his own lips. Then he was wet, water streaming down his body. He opened his eyes to see Boyle and Parr looking up at him from the deck. Boyle had an empty bucket and Parr was smiling with satisfaction. Beyond them both was the motionless body of Matthews, still on the shrouds. They had hung him on the opposite side of the ship on the larboard foremast shrouds. His thumbs were throbbing, sending searing pain into his wrists and arms with every pitch of the ship.

“A real clanger that was boy,” growled Boyle. “You and your mutinous mate’ll be hangin’ there till we reach Virginia!”

“Then we will cut you down only to hang you up again!” laughed Parr, who grabbed Giovanni’s ankle and pulled, putting more stress on his thumbs. Giovanni cried out in spite of himself.

“How’s the mutinous dog doing now?” asked Douglass, strolling over to join the crowd.

“As he should be cap’n,” chuckled Boyle.

Douglass moved in close and looked up at Giovanni. He spat on the deck. “I’ve see the likes of you since I first went to sea, good for nothing but the end of a rope. Worthless flotsam stirring up trouble among the crew, jawing to officers, starting fights, slacking in duty. Maybe in the navy you only received the cat but on my ship I am god and can do with you as I please. You are only alive because I want to see you hanged in Williamsburg.” He spit on him again and walked off, leaving Parr and Boyle smirking. Parr pulled on his ankle again before walking off with Boyle.

Once the pain caused by Parr’s instigation had subsided slightly, Giovanni studied Matthews more closely. He saw his shallow breathing and found himself a bit relieved knowing Matthews was still alive. The rest of the crew were ignoring them, the officers having retreated to the quarterdeck. Giovanni looked up, the sun was now high in the sky, the breeze was slight but steady over the quarter and he hoped Virginia was close.

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“Sail ho!”

“Where away?”

“Two points off the larboard quarter, hull down!”

Giovanni looked over at the quarterdeck as Douglass, Parr and Bloom all hurried to the rail and began scanning the horizon with their glasses.

“There,” pointed Bloom, who had the best instrument.

“Mr. Dickson, four points starboard if you please, let’s put them a trifle more astern and lose them in the dark.”

Giovanni hadn’t noticed how low the sun was in the fog produced by his anguish. His thumbs and hands were dark purple, his arms were numb but even so, the motion of the ship wracked his body with pain. Matthews came around now and then to groan. The men continued to stare at the ship on the horizon.

“Mr. Boyle, take the reef out of the courses and let’s see about studdingsails.” The apprehension in Douglass’ voice was apparent to all. Men began climbing the ratlines around Giovanni, the jerking causing him to cry out. The sail changes would take longer than usual because they were shorthanded and dragging out the never used studding sails and their attendant rigging would be an even greater challenge. Except for the occasional order, all was quiet among the crew as they went about their tasks. The men on the quarterdeck kept their gaze fixed on the approaching ship. Even Giovanni could see it now. It was smaller than the Sophie but much faster with a large spread of canvass. It looked like what had been described as a Bermuda sloop, a favorite of privateers....and pirates. The studdingsail booms were not yet rigged and the sun still had quite a way to go before it slipped in to the sea.

“Mr. Boyle. Studdingsails!”

“Yes Cap’n, we’re doing our best!” yelled Boyle from the end of the mainyard.

“If that was true they’d already be pulling!” screamed Douglass, his face red with anger, eyes filled with fear.

Boyle’s mumbled reply was drowned out by the low boom of a cannon in the distance. Any question of intent by the unknown vessel was now moot.

“Damn!” yelled Douglass. He turned and began conferring rapidly with Bloom, Parr standing mutely aside. The discussion was cut short by another shot that skipped across the water a hundred yards to starboard.

“Clew up!” ordered Douglass. The crew all paused for a moment. “Bloody hell, you heard me, clew up!” Men on deck scrambled to pull on lines and Douglass and Parr went below. As the sails were furled the ship lost way quickly and they were soon wallowing in the swell as the unknown vessel pulled within hailing distance. Giovanni was amazed that there were so many aboard such a small ship. As they approached, they too furled sails and were soon coasting one hundred yards abeam the Sophie, ten cannon protruding menacingly from the side. A tall, lanky man with a short beard and two pistols and a cutlass in his sash stepped up on the rail.

“We are sending a boat over! Any resistance will be met with immediate death! Where is the captain?!” It was a deep, powerful voice and in the circumstances, very threatening. There was a thumping on the companionway and Douglass appeared.

“I am the captain, Roger Douglass.” He stood at the rail, gripping it firmly to keep from shaking.

“Well captain Douglass, your ship is mine and everything in it. I expect your full cooperation.”

Douglass just nodded and went below again.

The pirates launched a longboat filled with fifteen heavily armed men and quickly covered the distance, hooking on to the mainchains and scrambling aboard with cutlasses and pistols drawn. The crew all backed away as far as they could and a tall man with huge arms, long braided blonde hair and a heavily scarred face moved aft to the quarterdeck. He seized Parr by the coat and backed him up against the mizzen mast.

“You da captain?!” he demanded.

“Ah..no. I am the first mate...Parr, Daniel Parr.”

“Is dis how you an’ your cap’n treat da memba's of da crew?!” He pointed his sword toward Giovanni and Matthews, forgotten during the chase and still hanging in the fore shrouds.

“I...they....” stammered Parr.

“I once served under men like you, lower den a dog you are!” With that he put a pistol under Parr’s chin and pulled the trigger. His brains splattered the mizzen and the quarterdeck and his lifeless body crumpled to the deck. “Cut dem down and bring me da captain!” he ordered and six of the men rushed to the foreshrouds and began to gently remove the bonds that held Matthews and Giovanni above the deck. Three more rushed below and soon Douglass was standing before the blonde man, held between two of his compatriots.

The leader narrowed his cold eyes and spit in his face. “We don’t like to see da crew so ill used, you murderous pig! How many go over da side on dis voyage?!”

“Uh...well...uh..”

“How many?!” He put his second pistol under Douglass' double chin and pointed to Parr’s lifeless body. Douglass’ eyes went wide with horror. “Answer me or you end up like him!”

“Uh...two.” he stammered.

“Two? I don’t believe you, do you mates?”

“Hell no!” answered the ones holding him.

“Really, I swear, and it wasn’t me, it was....accidents..in the weather....things happen!” Douglass’ voice was quivering with fear.

“Turn it up!” ordered one of the men holding him as he punched him hard in the stomach. Douglass fell to the deck gasping while the pirate leader laughed.

“Gather da crew!” he ordered. “And bring him to da mainmast.”

Soon the crew was gathered in the waist, surrounded by the pirates. Giovanni and Matthews were left on the foredeck with some water and biscuit. The pirate leader jumped up on the rail, grabbing the shrouds and clearing his voice.

“Dis man,” he shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Douglass. “ ’as used you horribly.” Several of the crew nodded and grunted in agreement. Chambers had been popular and his memory hadn’t faded, especially when Giovanni and Matthews had been hanging in the rigging to remind them. “I don’t tink da dog deserves to live!” Three of the crew cheered at this point, Chambers’ mates from several voyages. The pirates cheered with him. Douglass looked desperately for an ally but Parr was dead and he had no friends among the crew. On the quarterdeck, Bloom stood defiant, guarded by two men and Boyle was cowering near the fo’c’sle, not joining in but not helping either. “Aye, but first, where’s da gold, dog!” He put the point of his cutlass right up to Douglass’ throat.

“I..there isn’t any...just goods for...for Williamsburg.” Douglass was sweating profusely now. The pirate smiled a wicked smile.

“I don’t believe you, but dat’s alright. More sport fer us. Bind him!”

Two men held him fast while a third tied his arms behind him, around the mast. Douglass struggled and protested but it only brought more laughter from the pirates. Most of the crew, seeing their tormentor helpless and encouraged by the pirates, were shouting at the captain as well.

“Beat him! Get the cat!”

“No, beatin’s too good! String ‘im up!”

“Make him ride the Spanish mare!”

“Let’s see how well he swims!”

“Davies! Time to ‘elp da captain remember,” stated the leader. The crew quieted down, waiting to see what the pirates were going to do. A portly, bald man of medium height with huge tattooed forearms stepped forward with a long line in his hand. He was smiling wickedly. Douglass was frantic now, straining at his bindings. A few snickers from the pirate crew was all the sound that could be heard other than the creaking of the rigging and the water slapping against the hull. Giovanni noticed that the pirate ship had closed the distance and was only twenty five yards off the forward beam. The remaining crew were lining the rail, anticipating the show.

“Hold his head!” ordered the man with the rope.

One of the other men grabbed Douglass’ forehead and shoved it hard back against the mast. It hit with a sickening thud. Douglass’ eyes rolled back into his head for a moment. The rope was wound twice around the mast and his head and then tied. The leader brought his face inches from Douglass’.

“Davies here has more scars dan you can count on both hands from captains like you. He lost two fingers when his middle finger was shoved into a knot hole and wedges were hammered in around it. He was left like dat for two days, his whole arm swelled up. Every time he looks at dat hand he sees dat man..he sees you.” He nodded to the man with the rope. A belaying pin was shoved in between the lines and the man with the huge forearms began to turn it, twisting and tightening the rope. Douglass screamed.

“Remember now?” asked the leader.

“I...” The rope was tightened again and Douglass howled again. The crew and the pirates were beginning to cheer again. Douglass’ eyes were bulging in his head.

“Remember now?”

“Yes! Yes! Stop!”

The leader gave a nod to Davies who gave the pin a short twist to elicit one more shriek and then let it loose. Douglass appeared to pass out but a hard slap brought him to.

“Where?” asked the leader simply.

“A bag....near the seat...of ease...my cabin...gold..pull the board...to the left..” Douglass dropped his head. The leader simply nodded to two of his men who disappeared below.

“Now dat wasn’t so hard, was it?” he grinned, raising Douglass’ face to his own. “Who is da purser?”

“Harte....the old man,” he sighed.

The leader looked around, his eyes settling on Harte, who was trembling by the wheel.

“Fuller!” Another pirate stepped up to the leader. He was thin with a pocked face. “Take him below and see what we got.” Hart was roughly led below to detail the inventory.

“Svenson!” It was the pirate captain hailing from their ship. “What do we have?!”

“We’ll see soon, da captain’s been a right hard horse but Davies show him da way!” They both laughed.

“Svenson, this is it!” One of the men who had gone below held up a small bag and shook it so it jingled. Svenson turned to Douglass.

“You disappoint me,” he stated threateningly.

“No...please...that’s all...please!” he pleaded.

Svenson pointed his gun down and pulled the trigger, hitting Douglass just above the ankle. He screamed in pain and horror.

“Tear his cabin apart!” he ordered and the two men headed below again. “We’ll find it wit’ or wit’out you.” With that he left Douglass bleeding and groaning, still bound to the mast.

“How’s your arm?”

Giovanni looked up to see a small man with several gold earrings and one eye bending over him. Once on the deck he had curled up against the rail with his hands under his armpits. The pain was excruciating as the blood rushed back into his mangled limbs. They were still swollen and blue and he couldn’t move them.

“It...it hurts,” he groaned, shutting his eyes against the pain.

“Aye, but your long pull’s over. Captain’ll get his now.”

Giovanni couldn’t quite figure out what to think at this point. He felt no pity for Douglass or Parr but being taken in by pirates didn’t seem much better. The Barbary pirates he’d known in the Med were barbaric and most often either killed the crews outright or sold them into slavery. He wasn’t sure what to expect from this bunch of cutthroats.

He looked over to see another pirate talking to Matthews who pointed in Boyle’s direction. He left and grabbed one of his buddies and both went over and seized Boyle, beat him down to the deck and then tied him to the rigging. Beyond him, several of the pirates had tied Bloom to the mizzen, stripped him to the waist and were beating him with a knotted rope.

“All right men, we’ll 'ave time fer games later, let’s get what we come fer!” ordered Svenson. The men slowly stopped their torture of the officers and began removing hatches and swarming below. Another group of men had arrived in another of the pirate’s boats to help and several of the Sophie’s crew had already joined in. Although accused of being a deserter and a mutineer, Giovanni still held out hope that he would be exonerated, however slim that hope may have been. But if he joined up with these high seas pillagers, that hope would be gone. If they let Douglass and his men go and he was not with them, he was sure he would be fingered as a pirate and hanged or shot at the first opportunity. He hoped he’d be given the choice of staying with Douglass or going with the pirates, although neither option held much attraction.

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It was late the next afternoon when the pirates had finally finished looting the ship. The Sophie was bare as could be. Anything of value had, of course, been taken from the hold. But she had also been stripped of her cordage, sails and other stores. Giovanni was unsure of how she could be sailed in her present condition, if she could be sailed at all. Then the pirates and most of the crew had gotten riotously drunk that night and continued to torment the captain, Bloom and Boyle. By the morning, the faces of all three were barely recognizable and their bodies were bruised and bleeding.

“Time to go,” one of the pirates said as he shook Giovanni out of his fitful sleep. Giovanni looked up at him quizzically. “Got to go to the St. John, no choice mate.” He slowly got up. He couldn’t go, this would be it for him, he’d never make it back to Genoa. The men were getting in the boats and he was being herded to the rail, his mind racing. There had to be a way to stay.

“Come on now, move it!” Two or three of the rest of the crew were a little reluctant as well. The ship’s cooper put up quite a protest until they knocked him over the head and lowered him down into the waiting boat, unconscious. That quieted the rest of the protests.

“This is the last of ‘em. Malbon, lite ‘er up!” One of the pirates dropped down the main hatch and as Giovanni went over the rail, he caught a whiff of smoke from the gunport nearby. That was why they couldn’t stay. Boyle had begun bawling and straining at his bonds.

“No! No! You got everything you wanted!” pleaded Douglass. Bloom remained defiant, cursing the pirates. The smoke started billowing from the hold as they attached themselves to the mainchains of the St. John. The ships were drifting apart and the screams and pleadings of the three left aboard were dying away. Giovanni was over the side and collapsed on the deck in despair. He rubbed his discolored and swollen arms. What was he going to do now? Matthews plopped down next to him.

“What now Matthews? What will become of us?”

“I don’t know. I heard talk of articles, signing some paper to join them. I don’t know if we will be forced to or not. Giovanni, I want to see my wife and children again, not be hanged as a pirate,” he whispered, desperation evident in his voice.

“I..”

“You two, the cap’n wants to see ya.” The order came from a huge man, almost as wide as he was tall, carrying a cutlass at his side, still stained with blood. Giovanni and Matthews pulled themselves up and followed the man aft. Giovanni looked out over the water to the Sophie, she was now engulfed in flames. He could no longer see any of the three men left behind. “Got what they deserved, eh mate,” chuckled the pirate. Neither of them said anything. They soon entered the great cabin and came face to face with the pirate captain.

“Thank you Walsh, come in men.” Walsh closed the door behind them without a word. Giovanni studied the man. Tall and thin, he had to stay bent over as he moved around the cabin. He wore a tattered red coat and white breeches with heavy black boots. It may have been the uniform of a marine at one time. His dark hair was long and unkempt. He wore a lot of gold; on his fingers, his wrists, around his neck and from his ears. One side of his face was scarred, perhaps a powder burn, thought Giovanni. His wide smile revealed several missing teeth but his cold blue eyes showed no humor. “Please, sit down.” He gestured to several of the chests scattered about. Each meekly took one and stared at the floor.

“No need for such looks men, you have nothing to fear from us. We shan’t abuse you like that dog aboard your ship. We are all brothers now.” He spread his arms wide in welcome as he sat behind his desk. Matthews managed a weak smile. “That’s alright, I’ve seen men beaten far worse than you two, I know it takes some time. We had to take off Davies’ fingers when he first came aboard, hardly talked for a week, poor bloke. Now look at ‘im, a right rorty pongo in a scrap, an’ a bang on seaman to boot. Here,” he tossed a metal flask from his desk to Matthews. “This’ll freshen your hawse, go ahead, take it.”

Matthews put the flask to his lips, took a sip and then a long draught. The captain laughed and took out his own flask and gulped it down. Matthews passed it to Giovanni who took a more moderate amount. It was good rum and it revived him a bit.

“Aye, that’s better. Now we’ve drunk together let us be properly introduced. Name’s Wolridge, Evan Wolridge, captain of the St. John.” He looked at Matthews.

“Matthews sir, uh, Tom Matthews.”

“A pleasure Mr. Matthews. And you are?”

“Giovanni Bartolli,” he offered quietly.

“Ah, not from any part of England or the colonies, but that’s no matter. Svenson’s from Scandinavia, we’ve got a German and even a couple of Spaniards in the crew. Long as you don’t work a fiddle an’ you pull your weight, it’s a soft number here.” He pulled a large book from inside the desk. “I brought you in here together because I know the abuse you suffered on your ship. I doubt you’d want to go back to such a life. Most of your messmates agreed, they’ve already signed on. Here’s the griff. Every man is equal, each has a vote in the affairs of the moment, destination, prizes and such, and a equal share of provisions. The booty from prizes will be divided equally as well and all pistols and cutlasses must be clean and fit for duty at all times. If you are injured and should lose an arm or a leg, there will be compensation. No stealing, no women on board, no desertion during battle. Those are the basics. Just make your mark in the book and your first prize...” He drew two small bags from his pocket and dropped them on the table. They were filled with coins. “...will be paid.” He smiled and sat back in his chair.

“Sir...Captain..Wolridge...we, the two of us, we’re just pressed men who want to go home to England...or Genoa.” Matthews glanced at Giovanni and continued. “I...we appreciate your...hospitality but I don’t think we can join your...crew.”

“I see.” The smile disappeared from his face. “You agree Bartolli?” Giovanni nodded. “All right, I can’t force you to join the crew. You will stand watch while you are here and make no trouble. We will off load you as soon as we are able.” His voice was low and threatening. “No trouble,” he growled and waved them off. Thus Giovanni began his life among the pirates.