Becoming Americans (61 page)

      The
Revenge
had undergone several changes since she became a pirate ship. The deckhouse had been cut down flush with the deck to lower her silhouette upon the open sea, and to lessen the danger of flying wood splinters during battle. The railing along the sides had been built up for protection and concealment.

      Stephen's heart pounded. This was what he'd wanted. No land was in sight and it was springtime, again. The sun rose on his left as the ships headed south, towards exotic lands, wealth, and adventure.

      By the fifth morning out, Carman relented from his harsh disapproval. He allowed Stephen on deck and thrust a broom and a piggin of water at him. Stephen went to work as the crew stared at him and made catcalls.

      The crew of forty men knew each other from earlier cruises with Captain Teach or with other captains. In his isolation, Stephen had met very few of them. They looked alike, to him, one as scarred and dirty as the other. He'd seen three fights, already. The five days out had been easy sailing and the crew was restless and bored. He'd noticed that the pirates showed no reaction to pain, even when inflicted with the heaviest blows. They were a vicious lot, and Stephen noticed that two young sailors his age had become the brunt of teasing and harassment by many in the crew.

      In the early afternoon, as most of the men lay about the deck in the warm sun, or leaned against rails and ropes to smoke a pipe, Stephen put down his broom and went for water. As he passed an open hatch, a hand reached up and grabbed his ankle. Stephen tumbled through the hatch to the deck below, catching his fall by the bottom rungs of the ladder. A massive hand grabbed him from behind and covered his mouth. He struggled as the stranger forced him to the armory and threw him over a powder barrel. Stephen punched with his elbows and kicked back at the attacker's shins, but the resistance was futile against a man even larger and stronger than he. A scream of protest was caught in his throat as the man pulled and ripped at the back of his pants, tearing them away. Stephen managed to open his mouth enough to bite into the pirate's fingers, but a blow struck his head that left him unconscious.

      When Stephen awoke, he was in a cot next to Carman's. His head was bandaged and he wondered if his jaw were broken. Two rear teeth had been broken, he could tell, and his jaw ached and burned. Soon he felt the pain that throbbed inside him from behind. He suddenly remembered, and reached around behind to feel where the man had entered him. He felt dried blood caked to his cheeks. For the first time since he was a small child, a tear ran down his cheek. His jaw was swollen and he couldn't speak. He was glad of that. What could he say?

      For two days, he lay on the cot as Carman and Louis, the cook, nursed him back with beer and chicken broth. Lieutenant Richards came to speak to him once, telling him that he'd live, but suggesting that he learn to take care of himself or stay out of harm's way. He ordered Carman to supervise his nephew. He was disgusted that the lubber had fallen into an open hatch.

      Stephen thanked God that that was what they thought had happened.

      On the morning of the eighth day, Stephen was cutting turnips and carrots into a large wooden bowl when he heard the man in the crow's nest call, "Ship ahoy!" He heard feet running to starboard, then more crying of, "ship ahoy!" The crew shouted up cheers and then hurried to trim the sails as they followed Lieutenant Richards's calls to set course for the prize ship. He grabbed onto the cot while the
Revenge
heaved to port in response to full sail and a hard rudder. He lay there, waiting for the cannon shot, hoping the pirate who'd done this to him wasn't killed before he could find him out and kill him himself.

      The men rushed about, above and below decks, like dogs that had finally caught scent of a bear. Guns and swords rattled and clanked as the men readied for battle. More cheers greeted the boom of the cannon. The muffled sounds of the ship's boat being boarded and lowered were followed by the silence of anticipation. Another, smaller cheer of approval came from the men remaining on board when the intimidated ship was taken.

      It had been too easy, Stephen thought. There'd only been the one warning shot from the cannon. He was anxious to be well so that he could use his strength in a melee.

      Two more merchant ships were taken as easily before Stephen was up and back to work with his piggin and broom. He kept his eyes alert at all times, looking for a man who might have been his attacker. He became suspicious of everyone whose eye he caught, but everyone looked at him with a knowing look, he thought, and when a sailor made a suggestive clicking sound one morning, Stephen swung around and knocked the man to the deck. He jumped on top of him and pounded the man with his fists until he was unconscious. A dozen men stood around cheering, until Carman and Lieutenant Richards came and pulled him off and dragged him away. Carman swore at him and ordered him below.

      As he sat below waiting for Carman, he heard the familiar call of, "ship ahoy!" Soon the cannon fired its warning, but this time was answered with returned fire. A battle raged, and the crew worked smoothly together, manning the cannons and the sails with expertise and precision.

      When quiet returned, Stephen knew the battle was over. Carman had never come below, so Stephen went up to see what was happening. Gunsmoke clouded the horizon and the smell of powder burned his nose. Cannon balls had ripped sails and shattered the top deck near the bow. Gunshot had poked hundreds of holes in the sails and peppered the deck. Three men lay dead on the deck, piled atop one another by their shipmates. Stephen studied them for clues. Blood soaked their clothes and their insides had spilled out. Two of them were smaller than he, but the third was a giant who'd been killed when something had torn half of his face away. Stephen saw that a finger of the man's left hand had been bandaged before the battle. He knew it was his attacker, and he kicked the dead man in the gut, angry that the man was dead. He kicked the man again and again, until the force of his blows re-awakened the pain in his jaw and blood was spattered onto his pants.

      The
Queen Anne's Revenge
had taken the prize, and Teach's crew had already grappled and boarded her. Stephen watched Captain Teach standing by the defeated Captain as the crew transferred the cargo of sugar and ten slaves. Teach yelled commands to his men and ran to a captured sailor who had dropped his end of a chest. He picked the man up with one hand, held him above his head for all to see, and then heaved the sailor into the ocean.

      Stephen saw the great Blackbeard that was feared by friend and foe, alike. Smoking matches of twined hemp stuck out from under his cocked hat. His beard was plaited into little pigtails and tied with bright, colored ribbons, some of them pulled back behind his ears. He'd shed his coat for battle, and across his shaggy chest he wore a bandoleer which held three brace of pistols, all six of which, Stephen knew, were primed again, cocked, and ready for firing. The belt around his waist held more pistols, daggers, and the sheath for the cutlass he was holding. He was an awesome sight, and Stephen felt a little shudder, wondering if he were looking at the Devil, himself, as many thought Blackbeard was.

      With their holds full of captured cargo, the
Revenge
and the
Queen Anne's
Revenge
put into the port of Havana. The best of their goods were often disposed of in Havana, and Blackbeard had one of his many wives there. Many of the men had women in Havana, and the others could find one there.

      Stephen was among the crew that carried empty water casks ashore for filling. He was promised a woman by his mates, and they were all well-drunk by the time they found a tavern that they liked. He was barely able to stand when they were all led upstairs where the wenches were paraded before them.

      The women were dark and enticing, but they were all as used and dirty as the wench he'd had in Norfolk Town. The man selling the women spoke no English, but he understood that the young Englishman wanted better. A frightened girl, younger than he, was brought to Stephen, and after crude bargaining with her owner, he pulled her to a pallet in a corner.

      The girl was beautiful and clean, but it never occurred to Stephen to wonder how she got there. He looked into her frightened eyes and they excited him. He reached for her breast, but she said, "no," and slapped his hand away. Stephen slapped the girl hard in the face and said, "yes!" He grabbed her with both hands and pulled her to him. Again she screamed, "no," and slapped him with her free hand.

      The blow jarred Stephen's head and brought back the pain. He ripped away the front of the girl's dress and threw her on the floor. He held her down as he forced himself into her, hearing her scream just as he'd screamed two weeks earlier when it was done to him.

      A gentle snow was falling as the
Revenge
dropped anchor on the sound side of Ocracoke. Stephen wandered away from his celebrating crewmates and walked to the ocean side of the island. It was a strange sight, snow covering the sand up to a line cleared by the waves. It was winter again, and he'd been gone for less than two months. Nothing had changed in Bath, he knew. He, too, would have been the same had he stayed. But he had changed; he was one of Blackbeard's crew; no better, no worse. His solitude was interrupted by Thomas Carman, who'd come upon him without warning in the silent snow.

      "We're going to Machapungo, Stephen," he said.

      "I have no need to go to Machapungo."

      "Teach thinks you have a need, so you do. He wants the 'Adventure' keel hauled. Didn't do it last trip. If we do it now, it'll last 'till summer."

      Stephen didn't want to go to Machapungo. He didn't want to see his Uncle Richard. His uncle would be angry, and there'd be questions that Stephen didn't want to answer. Carman was out of patience, and let him know there was no choice. Stephen had taken what he'd been allotted as prize money; he'd do what he was told to do.

      The sailed across the sound in near silence, the thick curtain of big snowflakes muffling the ripples of the smooth water. Only the slow creaking of the ship intruded on the quiet. Lieutenant Richards's skill and knowledge of these waters got them to Richard Williams's dock in little more than six hours, and they dropped anchor in mid-afternoon. Stephen asked that he be allowed to go on shore alone, at first.

      He knocked on the door and was greeted by a strange woman. She let him in and Stephen saw his uncle standing by a bowl of snow in which he was mixing cream and sugar.

      "You made it back alive," his uncle said.

      "I'm sorry," Stephen said.

      "Sorry that you're alive, or sorry that you went?"

      "Both, maybe," Stephen said.

      "Come, in, Boy. You look cold, but you're brown as an Indian. Sinfully brown, Mother would say. I guess you got to those places you wanted to see?"

      Stephen didn't say anything, he just sat by the fire and warmed his cold hands.

      "Your Grandmother Fewox died while you were off on your grand adventure. The roof at Scuppernong fell in on her and broke both legs. She asked me and Robert to shoot her. Took her a week to die. Did you have a good time?"

      Stephen still said nothing. He didn't know what to say. His grandmother was almost as old as Virginia, but people died all the time. He was filled with regret and shame, but his mind was frozen with the things done to him and the things he'd done; things he couldn't speak of. His uncle wanted apologies, coupled with tales of adventure, but he could give him neither. He just stared into the fire.

      "My mother died, and your mother gave birth to twin girls. But, I guess you're not interested."

      Stephen couldn't answer. Finally he said, "I need help to get away from Blackbeard, Uncle,"

      This time, it was Richard's turn to be silent.

      "He and his men wouldn't let me go, now, after what I've seen."

      Stephen's eyes revealed his desperation. Richard had never seen the look before. They were not the eyes of a boy who'd run away, they were the eyes of a condemned man.

      "What did you do, Stephen? What's happened to you?"

      Richard left his bowl of melting snow and went to sit by the fire with his nephew.

      "I am become a dangerous, evil man. The Devil has taken over my body, and he haunts my dreams. He's made me do things…. I can't trust myself. If I go back to sea—if I go to Bath Town—I'll do awful, evil things! Evil spirits have entered my body!"

      The woman stranger chanced a run for the rope of garlic that hung by the fire, and wrapped it around her neck. She started chanting verses from the Bible and protective incantations that she knew. Richard realized that his nephew was serious, that something awful had happened.

      "Can you tell me…?"

      "No," Stephen said, staring into the fire.

      "Shut up, woman!" Richard said. "I can't think!"

      Stephen and the praying woman would take her small pirogue and row under cover of the thick snow to the western shore of the Machapungo River. There, at a point opposite Richard's land, began a path that led to Bath Town. Stephen could rest at Cary's Romney Marsh, borrow a horse, ride from there to Bath Town, then up the Bath Town Road to near Scuppernong. Robert Fewox would hide him.

      Six months later, Blackbeard was at the height of his power, while Stephen Williams and the devils in him hid in the pine forests and swamps at Scuppernong.