The Pirate King by J. P. Sheen

Author:J. P. Sheen [Sheen, J. P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: 3Hearts Publishing, LLC
Published: 2019-01-31T22:00:00+00:00

Several days later, during the forenoon watch on a clear Sunday morning, the bell rang three sets of two and one single, summoning the crew to the quarterdeck for the HMS Swift’s weekly punishments. Even Captain Thornhill came out on deck to watch the proceedings. The fair-haired captain’s face, heavyset and red under a gold-trimmed tricorne, still rang a bell in Blake’s memory, but he couldn’t place it. It gave him a nasty feeling though. Perhaps, Blake thought with a wicked grin, he’d had a run-in with the naval officer in the past.

Today’s offender was Thug Kurzon’s assistant, a burly man who greatly resembled a pit bull and whose name was, appropriately enough, Bull. He had been caught stealing rations, and it seemed that Kurzon had no mercy even on his “mates,” for news had spread that it was Kurzon’s idea that Bull run the gauntlet.

When the bell started to ring, the crew filed onto the quarterdeck, some holding handmade whips of rope or tightly wound canvas. Every man who shared Bull’s watch and side of the deck during sleeping hours was expected to help Captain Thornhill teach his insubordinate crewman a lesson whether they relished the prospect (which seemed the general sentiment) or felt like throwing up (which was Eselder’s sentiment).

“And you’d better do it, or I’ll lash you,” Blake warned Eselder, because the boy looked as if he might do something idiotic, like refrain from contributing a lash.

Thug Kurzon was watching everyone.

“I can’t!” Eselder whispered back, sounding terrified.

“Do it!” Blake hissed but could say no more. A morose drumbeat commenced, and two scarlet-clad marines led a wretched Mr. Bull to the head of a line that stretched all the way down the deck to the foremast.

Blake knew from his time aboard the HMS Swift that Mr. Bull was a self-serving bully, someone who would have taken pleasure in whipping a fellow crewmate had their positions been reversed. He was the boatswain’s mate and always carried his rattan around with him, looking for somebody to encourage in his work with a hard blow. Eselder’s priggishness was maddening. As for Blake, he had no interest in running the gauntlet himself, nor did he have a problem with offering Bull a blow he had long deserved.

Soon the air rang with whip cracks and agonized cries as Bull fled down the painful path marked out for him.

Don’t get cold feet now, Eselder!

Blake dished out his blow. Eselder also raised his whip. Then, looking like someone had whipped him, he lowered his arm and Bull ran on.

Blake looked quickly down the line. His fears were confirmed. Thug Kurzon was looking right at Eselder.

Blake was furious enough to follow through on his threat and start whipping Eselder. It didn’t matter whether the boy’s gesture had been spurred by rebelliousness or compassion. Eselder had disobeyed Kurzon’s orders, and for that, he would most certainly pay.

Blake looked off into the distance, where black clouds were gathering. To his surprise, he realized that he was afraid…and not because of the approaching storm.

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