Mr. Mandrik cleared his throat, nervous to question the wisdom of his superior, and asked, “Cap'n, couldn’t ya just introduce dem to the cat-o-nine tails or tie dem to da mast? Keelhauling for dis might sit bad wit da crew.”
Gibbons shot his quartermaster a steely glare. “You heard me, Quartermaster. Execute my orders! We cannot have the crew stealing from their captain. Let this be a lesson to you all!”
The sentenced men shook with fear. Mr. Michael wailed like a woman as they were both tied to the keelhaul line. The thick rope ran from the starboard side deck, under the ship, and back up to the larboard side deck. The long rope was normally used to scrape barnacles off the keel. Now the two offending thieves bodies would be used to clean the razor-sharp shells from the bottom of the ship. Mr. James hissed, "CLOT-POLES!" as Gibbons nodded to Mandrik.
With that queue, Mandrik bellowed, "Send them into the drink, men. Pull them down!"
A group of sailors pulled hard from the larboard side and the two condemned thieves flew off the deck, over the side and under the ship. A loud thumping of kicking could be heard on the ship’s hull. The sound made Patrick shudder. After a few seconds, the two men emerged on the starboard side drenched in salt water, gasping for air and screaming in pain.
“Quartermaster, that was too fast," the captain smiled maliciously. "Have your men slow it down this time!”
Mandrik swallowed hard and nodded to his captain that he understood. His voice cracked as he barked the command, "You heard the cap'n, boys. Slower." The torture procedure was then reversed pulling James and Michael over the side and into the sea. The men pulling the ropes pulled slower this time, drowning and dragging Michael and James across the sharp barnacle shells attach to the belly of the ship.
When they were finally pulled from the water, over the rail and back on the deck of the Robin, the clothes of the two men were blood soaked. They were both coughing up water and Patrick cringed at the sound of two men whimpering like children. Once untied from the rope, both James and Michael doubled over, holding the deep lacerations, futilely trying to stop the bleeding. The crew was silent.
“I am not completely heartless," Gibbons explained with a sadistic delight. "See to their wounds. Then tie them each to a barrel and set them a drift. If you wait a few hours, the tide will be moving towards the shore and they might even be lucky enough to drift into land.” The two howling men were dragged to the surgeon’s quarters, leaving a line of crimson soaking into the deck. A young crewman ran over to quickly mop up the trail.
The excitement of landing had somehow vanished for Patrick. He just wanted to drift to his station, make his himself busy with work and forget the horror he just witnessed when Mandrik reminded, “Hold on, lads. The cap’n wants more words wit yas.”
The captain rubbed his hands, as if wiping away the dirty business he just had overseen, and spoke, “You five will be sold as indentured servants, work hard and take this opportunity to learn a craft. You will be set free in just five short years.”
Shamus was confused. “I thought I just heard your kook-sookin’ mouth say slavery was forbade.”
The captain replied, “Ay fine sir, you are not slaves since one day, you will be free. Until then, you will get living quarters, food, a small salary and even a little time to enjoy yourselves in the town in exchange for your labor. But you will not be allowed to court women or start a family until your contract is finished." The captain paused to give his next words greater gravity, "Let me explain the consequences, gentlemen. I expect to get top gold for you five and you want to make sure that happens. If you do not sell, you will spend the rest of your days doing dog's work on this barky.”
“We already be doin’ da pribblin' clay-brained jobs!” Shamus exclaimed.
“One more outburst, Mr. Red, and I will let Mr. Mandrik teach you to respect your captain,” Captain Gibbons warned coldly. After holding Shamus's eye for a long moment to emphasize his seriousness, the captain continued, “We have written ads for you that will be posted in town. Local merchants will come to inspect you and question you. You want to put on a good show and you hope they purchase your services. Otherwise, your life will be unbearable on this ship and you will curse your mothers for ever birthing you. Do we have an understandable agreement, gentleman?”
“Aye Aye, Captain,” Sam chirped.
The quartermaster questioned, “Are any of yas versed in words? Raise yas palms if yas can read!”
Patrick and Isaac raised their hands.
“Yas two go over da descriptions of duties proclaimed in da notes," Mr. Mandrik explained in his heavy odd Grecian tongue. "Make sure everyone knows da skills we say day are learned at. I am given yas da proclamation of sale notes. Don’t dare soil dem and I be back shortly.”
As the quartermaster walked away the five men gathered around to read the advertisements written about them. Patrick read his own advertisement first. The advertisement was written on hemp paper and in elegant penmanship it read:
Just Arrived
June 21st The sale of this indenture will commence at noon in Market Square. Patrick Willis is versed in word and numbers and is well learned. He hast skills of a jeweler and silversmith. The indentured is very skilled with delicate handwork. This man can adapt to other metal work such as blacksmithing and forging. He also has served as a ship carpenter and surgeon’s mate. Terms be a seven year service. I will sell on bid for ready money or Tobacco and the Credit, Bond and Security will be required.
Inquire with Mr. Mandrik of the Robin for inspection and sale.
Patrick reread this advertisement and quickly panned through the others. “All of these are seven years, and none at five!" Patrick stated angrily. "We been lied to again, lads!”
“I thought it be strange," Sam Scurvy piped in. “Most prisoners be indentured seven to ten years, only free men serve but five.” Sam thought for a moment and then continued, “The cap’n is going to try and pass us off as freeman, I says. He made no notice of our transgressions in the advertisement.”
“You can slap that churlish, crook-pated lout. I'll shove his wig right up his rear! Curse this whole gorbellied, folly-fallen situation. I had enough of this dog squeeze!” Shamus shouted irately.
Isaac held out his hands and calmly resolved, “I will suffer two more years if I never have to go back to the dank prison we were rescued from.”
“Let us ask Mr. Mandrik about this when he comes forth,” Jessup injected.
“Agreed, we will have him change this,” Patrick conferred.
The heat of anger continued to build among the huddled men until the quartermaster returned.
“What is dis about da seven years, you goatish Greek clot-pole?! You’s all lied to us and ya best change da notice back to five years!” Shamus barked as he pointed his angry finger at Mandrik's chest.
The quartermaster began to breathe heavy through his nose like a bull that had seen red. He spoke loudly so there would be no questions. “Da captain changed da terms and ya all be better marketed now. You're to never mention yas jail time or I will throw ya into the drink on da way back to London! Now get back to yas duties and mention dis no more!"
The quartermaster angrily stomped off, leaving the five men staring at each other with dismay. Patrick sighed. “I guess I must suffer seven more years until I can truly live free." The five former prisoners nodded quietly in agreement as Patrick continued, "Lads, much confusion will happen in the next days and this may be the last time we are in league together. So let’s all concur: one day on a harvest moon, years from now at the dock we arrive at, we have a reunion at their best pub.”
The grumbling group accepted Patrick’s idea.
After the men accepted their new fate, the feeling of excitement started to swell again. Tomorrow morning they would finally see Savannah. The men retired to the duties with a sense of newfound hope.
Savannah, 1734