Isle of Swords (25 page)

“You have much to account for, daughter,” Ross said. “But that must wait. We need to put to sea. I want to get as far away from Dominica as we can by morning. For now, you and Cat are confined to your quarters.” That was the only thing Anne's father had said to her.

She twisted and turned in her bed and listened to the waves slap the ship. One after another.
Smack . . . smack . . . smack.
The sea was restless. Anne was too. As the daughter of the captain, and the only female on board, Anne had her own quarters. It was small, just a closet, really, but it had never felt so small and confining as it did this night. Anne closed her eyes and wondered if there was anything, anything at all, written on her heart.

27
MOSES'S LAW

T
he next day was dreadfully hot. The crew of the
William Wallace
stood in a circle around the mainmast on the steaming deck. The ship was well out to sea, en route to St. Pierre's stronghold in the Caicos Islands. But, by Ross's command, they'd lowered all but the smallest sails and slowed considerably.

Ross stood at the wheel. His back was straight, his shoulders thrown back. But to every sailor gathered there, he looked miserable. His eyes that usually sparkled with energy—and mischief— were bloodshot. His effervescent grin was gone, replaced by a morose scowl. He stood at the wheel while Stede prepared to read from the articles of the
William Wallace
concerning the charges against Anne and Cat.

As quartermaster, Stede was in charge of maintaining discipline aboard the ship, but even he had trouble choking out the words. He knew the code. He knew what the code required. But he didn't want to see justice done this time.
Too young, they are,
he thought.

He cleared his throat and did his duty. “For missing yer appointed wark shift and making others take up the slack . . . five lashes.” At the mention of lashes, Nubby's head turned abruptly. He stared at Cat and swallowed.

“B'ing off the ship without leave,” Stede continued, “five lashes.” The crew murmured. Red Eye shook his head.

“For recklessly endangering the lives of the crew”—Stede gri-maced—“ ten more lashes.” Tears spilled down Anne's cheeks.

“But above all charges held against ya, stands this one: directly disregarding the law of the captain's command . . .” Stede looked away and at last whispered, “mutiny. For this the punishment is marooning on a solitary isle or . . . death.”

The crew knew the consequence for mutiny, but still, hearing it levied against Anne and Cat caused an uproar. Opinions became more and more enflamed. A fistfight broke out between Drake and one of the younger crewmen. Jacques St. Pierre tried to break it up, but a dagger was drawn—
BOOM!!
Stede fired his thunder gun into the air. The deck went silent. Smoke encircled the quartermaster's head, and he glared at the crew. “Now shut yer mouths, all of ya! I don't like it any more than the rest. But beating each other to a bloody mess won't help.”

“But, Stede, they're just kids!” Red Eye exclaimed.

“The law is hard,” Stede said. “But the law b' the law.”

“Aw,” complained Midge, “it's not like they joined up with Bartholomew Thorne or . . . showed the British where we are! A dumb choice, yes, but no more'n that! Cap'n, can't we cut 'em some slack?”

“Yeah!!” many others of the crew yelled. Cat stared impassively out to sea. Anne looked up at her father.

Declan Ross had made many hard decisions as captain of the

William Wallace
, but none weighed on him like this one. “The articles of the
William Wallace
are very clear on this point: the captain's word must be followed. If the chain of command is violated and nothing is done to set it right, then we have nothing to keep this crew together. Nothing to keep us sane. Each of you went on the register. Each of you signed. There's no way around—”

“They didn't sign.” A deep voice came from the crowd. Jules stepped forward.

Stede looked at him sideways. “What?”

“Cat and Anne . . . ,” Jules said. “They never signed the articles.”

No one spoke. The sun seemed to grow hotter still. The crew exchanged nervous glances. Stede, whose face had been a mask of concentration for a few moments, broke into the broadest grin possible. “This b' true!” he yelled. “If they didn't sign the articles, they ain't really members of the crew, right, mon?” He looked up at Ross.

“Perhaps,” muttered their captain. “Perhaps we cannot punish them as we would one of the crew.”

“I say we let them off !” said Red Eye. “They've learned their lesson.”

“But, Captain!” shouted Drake. The graybeard stepped into the circle made by the crew. “Maybe they didn't sign. But we can't just excuse their deeds. They willfully turned against your own command and in so doing betrayed us all!” Some in the crew shook their head. Others agreed with Drake.

“They must be whipped at least!” someone shouted.

Someone else cried, “Give 'em Moses's Law!”

“Vote on it!” Jules thundered above all other voices.

Stede looked at the captain. He nodded. “Vote on it, we will!” said Stede. “All those who'll call Cat and Anne mutineers and see them be hanged or marooned, say so now!” A wave of relief washed over Cat and Anne—and Declan Ross too—for no one, not even Drake, raised a hand.

Stede went on. “Those in favor of letting them off altogether, cast yer vote now.”

Red Eye's hand shot into the air. Midge's came next, followed by Jules and Cromwell. It was the first time the two of them had agreed on anything. Anne and Cat looked around, but no other hands went into the air.

Stede sighed. He knew already what the crew had decided.

“Moses's Law?”

One by one, hands went up, until it became clear that a majority had been reached. “Moses's Law it b',” whispered Stede.

Stede went to the mainmast. The canvas bag bound there was hung high to make it very visible at all times. In this way, men knew what punishment awaited if they failed in their duties. Stede reached in and pulled out a thick wooden handle covered in a coarse leather sheath. From one end of this thick segment slithered a long tapering strand of braided leather.

“Moses's Law,” said Stede, holding up the whip so all could see.

“That be forty lashes lacking one. I choose to divide it twenty lashes for Anne. Nineteen for Cat.” Alarm bright and urgent in her eyes, Anne looked at Cat.

“You can't do that!” Nubby burst out of the crowd. “You saw the condition Cat was in when we got 'im. The wounds are just now beginning to heal. You start whipping 'im again with that torturous weapon, and . . . you'll kill 'im!”

“I'll take his lashes,” came Anne's quiet voice.

Padre Dominguez looked up. He nodded.

Cat turned and scowled at Anne as if she couldn't possibly have uttered anything more horrible. “Anne, no! I must take the punishment due to me.”

“You wouldn't be due any punishment at all if I hadn't put the idea in your head and led you overboard!” Anne's face reddened.

Her eyes pleaded. “Please . . . ,” she said. “I am to blame for this.”

For Declan Ross, the misery that pounded his heart like storm waves on a sandy shore abated suddenly—replaced by an altogether different feeling. Anne seemed to change right before him. The willowy little girl, all dimples and attitude, a mischievous pixie with red pigtails—she was still there. But now there was also a steadfast young woman. Ross looked away and nodded to his quartermaster.

“Very well, then,” said Stede. He went to Anne, took her hand, and led her to the starboard rail. He gently placed her hands upon the rail. Then he whispered something in her ear.

She looked back suddenly. “Do you think he'll allow it?” she asked.

“He'll have to,” Stede replied. He turned away and marched ten paces across the deck. He looked one last time up to Declan Ross.

Stede silently willed his captain to put a stop to all this. But he knew Ross couldn't. To go against the vote of the crew, to show favoritism to his own kin, and to ignore the ship's articles would invite irreparable problems and perhaps . . . real mutiny.

Stede turned and faced Anne's back. He lifted the flail weapon and drew back his arm. Knowing that this whip would fall thirty-eight more times, he let fly his first stroke with much less force than he would have normally. Still the whip snapped upon Anne's back, and she let out a sharp cry. It had not cut through the material of her shirt, but Anne felt the warm sting of a new welt across her shoulder blades. Stede aimed the second stroke much lower. Anne arched her back and swallowed the pain.

“This isn't right!” Cat yelled. “I am just as much at fault.” He took a step forward but was hauled back in by Jules's iron grip. Cat struggled, but it was no use. The third whip stroke fell. Anne grunted.

“Let it be, son,” Jules said. “For just a moment more.”

Cat relented, and Jules released him. Cat turned and looked up at the gigantic pirate.
What did he mean, ‘for just a moment more'?

Jules glared at Red Eye as the fourth stroke fell. A thin red trail spread across Anne's shirt. Red Eye's mouth hung open—his face betraying an unspoken question. Stede nodded, and Red Eye ran forward into the center of the circle.

“Hold that whip, Quartermaster!” he commanded. A mixture of puzzlement and anger on his brow, Ross looked at Red Eye. Stede turned around.

“Don't ya b' interrupting the discipline, mon,” Stede said.

“Unless ya wish to earn some lashes for yerself.”

“That is exactly what I mean to do,” said Red Eye. “Anne's felt the sting, she's paid her debt, but we have not paid ours!”

“What are you talking about?” the captain called down.

“Anne was wrong to leave the ship,” Red Eye explained. “But if it wasn't for her and Cat, we might all be shackled guests in the hull of a British brig.” The crew murmured.

“I'm listening,” said Ross.

Red Eye smiled mischievously. “When Anne and Cat got themselves captured,” he continued, “they acted as spies, really. Found out Commodore Blake's plan, they did. Blast! We didn't even know the British were on the island! If we hadn't heard it from Anne, hadn't moved the ship round east when we did, we'd have been cut off.”

“That doesn't change a thing,” Drake said. He approached Red Eye. “The crew voted Moses's Law—that's got to be paid!”

“And paid it shall be,” said Red Eye. “Thirty-five lashes left, by my count. I for one will gladly take a lash or two to show gratitude for our freedom—which we owe to Anne and Cat. Now, which of you will share in the pain?”

One by one, crewmen came forward. Even Drake himself volunteered. He walked slowly by Cat and whispered in his gravelly voice, “The law is the law. No hard feelings.”

“What do you say, Captain?” asked Red Eye. “We'll take the remainin' strokes and consider the debt paid?”

“Put it to the vote,” Ross said, trying to keep his relief from being obvious.

“Wait!” Stede exclaimed. “B'fore we vote, I think we should add something to make sure there b' no more confusion over their punishment in the future. After the whipping's done, let Anne and Cat sign the register.”

Ross felt like he'd been hit in the gut by a cannonball. The eyes of all the crew were on him, but none weighed more heavily than Anne's. He knew she was old enough, and he couldn't deny Anne's recent display of responsibility. Still . . .

“Shall we put it to a vote?” Stede asked. Reluctantly, Declan Ross nodded. “What b' the will of the crew? Shall we accept thirty-five strokes of the whip on our own backs to pay Anne and Cat's debt?

And shall we swear them in as full members of the crew of the
Wallace
?”

Hands went up—almost all. Drake wanted it made clear that he would accept the lashes, but had no desire for Anne to sign the register. “Bad luck,” he muttered over and over. But in spite of his misgivings, it was decided.