An Inception of Piracy Chapter 8

8


“Giovanni!”  the cry was weak and hoarse.  He stood on the raft and looked around, his eyes squinting in the noonday sun.  There was splashing a hundred or so yards to his right.
“Here!  It’s me, Matthews!”  he yelled, “and I 'ave Will!”
Giovanni jumped into the cold water and quickly swam out to them.  Matthews was holding onto a broken barrel with one hand and Will with the other.  Matthews had a deep gash on his forehead and Will’s head was barely above water.  Giovanni placed himself on the barrel opposite Matthews and pulled on Will, getting his face farther out of the water.  He sputtered and rolled his head from side to side, looking at them with one half open eye.  He smiled slightly.
“We must get out of the water,” said Giovanni, “it’s too cold.”  Matthews just nodded weakly.  His lips were blue and his teeth chattered occasionally.  They kicked and paddled to Giovanni’s raft.  He helped Matthews aboard and they both pulled and pushed until Will was laying in the middle.  The raft was awash with the extra weight.
“What happened?”  asked Giovanni, turning to the shivering Matthews.  He wished he could warm him but the canvas he had found was still wet.  However, the bright noonday sun shone on the parts of their bodies they could keep dry.
Matthews shook his head.  “Will an’ me was on the spiritsail when the second broadside hit.  This time ‘ol frenchie aimed low, right into the gun deck.  Musta hit some powder or killed some poor boy carrying slowmatch and boom, we were in the water.”  He looked at Will, unconscious on the raft, water lapping at his head.  “I jumped clear but the bowsprit came down on poor Will.  Never thought a ship could go down so fast.  I guess you ain’t seen anyone else?”
Giovanni just shook his head.  “We should try to keep his head out of the water.”
Both moved closer to the other end of the raft so it tilted Wills head up.  They were sitting in the water but Will had head and shoulders dry.  They remained there in silence for a while as the wreckage drifted away.  By the look of the sun it was mid afternoon.  The canvas he had been able to keep out of the water was almost dry, they’d need it overnight.  Matthews had drifted off to sleep and Will was still unresponsive.  Giovanni had to think.  They had water and food for a week or maybe two but they were at the mercy of the elements on their raft.  One bad storm could wreak it, or tear the barrels from their lashings leaving them with nothing.
A low moan came from Will.  Giovanni carefully moved closer to his head.
“Will...Will?”
Will slowly opened his left eye, the other was swollen shut.  “Giovanni..”
“Yes, and Matthews is here too.  He pulled you from the water.”
“Did he now?”  The voice was barely a whisper.
“Yes, he’s resting right now.”
“Tell him...”  he coughed weakly.  “Thank ye.”
“Take some water,” directed Giovanni, gingerly shifting his weight on the raft and opening the water barrel.
“No, save it for yourselves..”  He smiled weakly.  Giovanni removed his hand from the barrel.
“If you just hold on..”
“No...no,”  gasped Will hoarsely.  He breathing was labored now and he shivered occasionally.  “Where are you going to sail her?”  he asked, smiling weakly.
“Where do you want to go?”  whispered Giovanni.
“Somewhere warm....can we pick up Julia?”
“We’re on our way..”
Will closed his eyes, pain etched in his face.  Giovanni looked on helplessly.
“At least....you needn’t...worry...'bout Quinn,”  he smiled again.  “You’re the....captain now.”
“Yes...captain Giovanni Salvadore Dominico Bartolli.”  Giovanni almost laughed.
Will coughed weakly and his face went slack.  His breathing was shallow again.
“Will?”  He didn’t respond.  Giovanni moved back towards Matthews so Will’s head came up higher out of the water.  He smiled to himself.  Will was right, he didn’t have to worry about Quinn, or Dugal.  He was captain of his ship and if he could get it to the continent, he could get back home.  Only his vessel was at the mercy of the wind and current and fate.  Of course, they could be picked up by a ship.  If that happened, his fate and that of Matthews, and Will’s if he made it that far, would be very different, unless they were picked up by an English ship, in which case they’d all be back where they started.  If they made it to the continent, or were picked up by a French or Spanish ship, Matthews and Will would be prisoners of war.  He didn’t want that but he had no control over it, just as he had no control over the whole miserable chain of events that had brought him to his present circumstance.
Will shuddered slightly bumping Matthews awake.  He looked around, getting his bearings.
“Bartolli....how’s Will?”  he asked quietly.
“He said to tell you thank you, for helping him.” he replied quietly.
“Is he..”
“No, but I don’t think it will be long.”
Matthews hung his head.   “I’ve known Will since we was little....boy we were a pair...”  he smiled weakly.  “I remember the time we got into ‘ol Rodger’s shed lookin’ fer a knife and his ‘ol dog chased us clear across town.  We ‘ad to jump in the creek and ‘old our breath forever it seemed, to lose him....current carried us down a ways....ooo the water was cold....it was early spring, jus’ before plantin’.”  Matthews looked down at his hands and was quiet for a while.  The sun was now low on the horizon.  Giovanni looked down at Will.  His chest was no longer moving.
“Tom...” whispered Giovanni.  Matthews looked up at him then down at Will.  “He’s gone..”  Matthews put his face in his hands and sobbed quietly for a minute.  When he looked at Giovanni next, his eyes were red and puffy.
“We need to....”  he started, Giovanni nodded in understanding.  “I ain’t none too religious but I figure we need to say something.”  Giovanni nodded again.
“Will Dillon,” he began, clearing his throat and straightening up slightly.  The raft rocked gently in the evening breeze.  The sunset was beautiful, thought Giovanni.  The evening sky was streaked with reds, oranges and purples as if God himself was welcoming this good, honest man to a better place.  “You deserved better than this.”  He took a deep breath before continuing.  “You were a great friend...you did good by your family.  If I get through it I’ll let Julia know what happened, she loved you....an’ I’ll help her with the children.”  He sniffled slightly.  “I’ll miss you Dillon.”  He nodded to Giovanni.  They didn’t have anything to weigh the body down with so they just had to shove him off the raft and let him float away.  Matthews turned so he wouldn’t have to look.  Giovanni put a piece of canvas around his shoulders.
“I’m sorry.....he was a good man...” He didn’t add that he was one of a handful of good Englishmen he’d met.  The rest he’d just as soon clock over he head like....   He grabbed another piece of canvas and wrapped himself up.  The sun had set and the breeze was chilly.  At least they were dry now, without Will’s weight the raft rode out of the water.
“You were right Bartolli..”  Giovanni looked up at Matthews who was still looking down at his hands.  Then he looked up at Giovanni and continued.  “Takin’ people off the street, out of their homes, forcing ‘em to serve.  Families never even know what happened.  T’ain’t right.”
Giovanni looked up at the stars.  “The men on my father’s ships, they served willingly.  I saw it wasn’t easy but few ways of making a living are.  Farming’s hard work too, craftsmen work hard...the sailors worked hard but they seemed happy most of the time.  Sure ships were lost but everyone knew the risks, they got to say good-by.”  He thought of his father.  He was supposed to have  been back before the harvest.  Depending on whether any of his letters got through, his family would have no idea what was wrong and would never know what happened to him if he didn’t return.
“I’d never been on a ship before....I think if I get back, I’m goin’ to stay far from the sea.”
Giovanni chuckled and Matthews did as well.   He looked at the sea and the sky.  No, he would miss it, although his time on the Vitol and Pembroke came close to ruining it for him.  The coarse canvas on his scarred back reminded him of that.  But the breeze, the smell of the ocean, the sky and the sea, it was intoxicating.  No, if he got back he would be at sea again, his father’s trusted mate.   Soon the gentle motion of the raft lulled them both to sleep.
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By afternoon the next day it was overcast and cold.  They took turns keeping watch and worked out a ration schedule.  The seas were building, not enough to break over the raft but they had to hold on as they slid from crest to trough.  Giovanni knew that it was only going to get worse before it got better.
“We need to lash things more tightly,” Giovanni said.  “There’s a storm coming in the next few days.  It’s coming from the sou’west so it will be pushing us back to England.”
“Really?  How far are we?” asked Matthews hopefully.
“Hard to say, we were heading that way for a few days so it can’t be many leagues.  We aren’t far from the Channel so I’m still hoping to see a ship.  I’d rather not go through a storm on a raft.”  He began to tighten the lines holding the water barrel to the raft.
“I wish Will was still with us,”  stated Matthews quietly, wrapping the canvas tighter about him in the rising wind.  Matthews may have been the optimist of the group but his dependence on Will as a stabilizing influence was evident.  He seemed lost without his friend.
Giovanni didn’t know what to say so he just kept at his work.
“We are going to have to strap ourselves to the raft with some of this line,” he stated, handing Matthews the end of a piece of hemp.  Matthews took it and wrapped it around his waist.
“You think it’s going to be that bad?”
“Yes,” Giovanni nodded, “I do.  Look at the clouds.  They are what you English would call a....let me think...mackerel, yes, a mackerel sky.  Yesterday, the few birds I saw were heading northeast, toward land.  They know what’s coming.”
“It tells you all that?”  he asked, scanning the sky.  “On the farm we could smell the rain but on the sea it’s not so easy.”  He rubbed his head.  “And my head still hurts...keeps me from thinkin’ straight sometimes.”  He smiled weakly.  Giovanni noticed the gash on his forehead had begun to close.
“When one’s out at sea, one needs to know these things, life depends on it.”  Giovanni finished tying himself to the raft.  “My father taught me to read the waves and clouds since I was small, I guess I do it without thinking.”
“Aye, my father taught me about the soil.  He’d hold it in his hands and tell me what was good to plant and when.  I’d ride the plow when I was little as he walked behind.  I guess it was good he did, he died of the pox a few years later and me bein’ the oldest, I had to take over.”  He coughed and spit into the sea.   “It was hard but I never knew better, or worse.....an’ it always made me feel good, bringin’ in a new harvest.”  He looked wistfully at the hazy horizon.
Men were the same everywhere, thought Giovanni.  They liked to work and have their efforts rewarded.  They liked the constancy of the seasons, the security of their land.  He had that once...and he would have it again.  He was determined to get home, to make the last year a distant...nightmare.
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The next day brought no positive change in the weather.   The swell was building and Giovanni knew it was only a matter of time before things got bad, probably before the end of the day.  He pulled up the cask with the salt pork and opened it.
“Breakfast already?” said Matthews in a more cheerful voice than he’d used yesterday.  The optimist in him was trying to reassert itself.
“Sure.”  Giovanni handed him a piece of the moldy meat.  “Just like at the best taverns.”
Matthews chuckled and took it, dunking it over the side of the raft and then rubbing it against his shirt.  It left a green stain.  Giovanni did the same.
“Could use some hardtack with this,”  stated Matthews, chewing hard on the salted meat.
“Didn’t think I’d miss it,” he replied, ripping off a piece with his teeth.  They both ate in silence for a while.   Giovanni noticed Matthews had finished and got him another piece.
“Don’t you think we should save it?”  he asked.  He put his hand out anyway, he was still hungry.
“Today, I think we’ll need our strength.”
Matthews nodded and took the meat.  Even he could tell the wind had strengthened since yesterday.  He looked around as he took a bite.  It was hard to tell where sea and sky met, all was gray.  They were beginning to surf down the faces of the larger waves.  Giovanni secured the cask and brought up the water.  They both took long drinks and secured that barrel as well.
“Line tight?” asked Giovanni, grabbing his safety line and pulling it.  Matthews nodded and did the same.
“Now what?”
“We hold on and wait.”  They both readjusted themselves in the center of the raft, loosely grabbing lines.  They were soon shifting their weight together as they surfed down one wave and then slowed in the trough.  The wind held them there while the sea lifted them up to repeat it again.  It kept the raft moving smoothly but Giovanni soon found it exhausting.  All of a sudden Matthews hit him in the side with an elbow and yelled.
“A ship, I think I see a ship!”