In Twickenham
By Rick Salsman, Copyright 1996 All Rights Reserved
In the dim of the damp and cool room a trickle of rusty water streaks the grey wall. The sun peeks into the chiseled cube through the red stained metal bars and asks the lump of a person to awake to meet the new day. It is bright and clear outside and crowds can be heard to shout and sing as if a festival is drawing near. Indeed, a parade is at hand this new day.
Willy sits in the corner of the room opposite the metal door held fast on the other side by the latch kept well out of arm's reach. Willy had tried to reach the latch just in case some guard had planned a mistake into the cell. Of course, he only tried once and then sat back on the floor with his knees under his chin. He hugged his legs and tried to take his rest, but that evaded him too.
As the festival sounds rise and swell and then diminish, Willy listens in the inbetweens for any sound that might indicate a visitor. After the sun has taken its course far enough into the sky as to let the room fall dim, Willy gets his first hint of what is to pass.
At first it is a slight squeek; then a constant moan set high and soft in the distance. As the squeek grows he finally hears the rumble of the wooden wheel on the cobblestone path. Willy hugs his knees and thinks about the slow creak and moan of a tightly built ship is a comfort to a man at sea. He stands to look out the window and, grabbing the rusty bars, remembers the scuppers before a hand has taken proper time to maintain them. Thoughts of helpless sea creatures, tossed on board by errant wind and waves, make him think of a time when he was free to mock such accidental prisoners.
Willy grabs the bars and pulls his face to get a better view. The rust brands two stripes down his cheeks and he notices the deep red stains across his plams. Then he catches a glimpse of the cart and he starts at the pounding on his cell door.
"Prepare to be taken. Step from the door and submit to the main guard." The deep voice sounds like none he has ever heard and, for the first time, a voice frightens him.
Willy moves from the window bars and awaits the guard in proper form. He is puzzled to see yet another set of irons to be clasped on him in addition to the leg irons. The guard sets to him and locks a three part iron to him connecting his hands together and to his leg irons. Willy is helped onto the cart.
The crowds have gathered along the road and show the good humor of a family after a large picnic. Children are dressed in fancy outfits with hats and bows. The adults are dressed for a pleasant afternoon like that which might follow church on Easter Sunday. Some of the women still hold large baskets with half eaten baguettes rising from under a soft plaid cloth.
As the cart goes past each bend in the road, Willy feels the insects that have infected his stomach. He feels the guilt for what he is. He catches the rough glances thrown on him by his audience and he tries to make sense of his crimes. Most of all he tries to make sense of his position of high honor. The hanging of a pirate is no small matter in a town so often sacked by the very scoundrel.
As the cart bumps its way to the gallows the crowds compress as to follow the center attraction. Willy is the only attraction today as any other such legal action might tend to diminish the occasion. The governor had issued a stay of execution on three prisoners just to cement such a festive day as this.
Soon the crowd has formed much more a circle than a long narrow tube. Willy's cart trembles as it begins to break the circumference of the circle. It is making its way to the center stage: the gallows, when, from the crowd, a small girl races to the cart with a smile that reminds Willy of his childhood love. The soft and pleasant figure rushes to the edge of the cart to give the prisoner her bouquet of flowers. As the cart shakes its way from her, her mother grabs her to scold her for being kind to the chained beast of a man. Her father looks on in dissapointment. He had given the flowers to her to celebrate her tenth birthday. As he raises his hand to spank her, she turns with just enough time to blow a kiss to the figure now facing the gallows less than a step away. Just before her father's strong hand makes contact, a trickle of saltwater races down the center of her cheek and drips on her white pinafore.
The guards help Willy to the wooden platform and slip the hemp circle around his neck. Willy can feel the tickles and twitches within his stomach as they seem to etch their way through his skin and down his back. He hears the metal clink as his hands and legs shake long after he is taken from the cart on the cobblestone. The main guard then hushes the mob so as to let the prisoner speak his final words.
"Silence! To keep our own self respect, let us allow this despicable man have his final chance before God to ask for mercy." The guard's voice again frightens Willy like no voice has ever before. Still, as Willy opens his mouth to speak, not a sound exits.
"He is a coward!" A man in the crowd shouts and hurls a half eaten tomato at the stationary figure resting only on the pin to the trapdoor.
"Hang him mid sentence! Let him die sooner than later. We don't care what he has to say!" The mob grows angrier as the silence rests in Willy's mouth.
Willy opens his mouth again to speak and is again silenced by the twitches and turmoil within his bones. He looks for reassurance but cannot muster even a single phrase of old to help him dig up a single verbal treasure. He looks to the sky and then around the crowd. Finally his eyes set upon his trembling hands clutching the flowers so hard the stems have become crushed to stringy pulp. The water from the stems drips onto his boots and he remembers the sleepless nights.
As he thinks back to Lister and Rhene, he is blessed with the memory of his friends. He remembers Duty and Loyalty. He hears the splash of the sea and the whip as a cutlass slices the air. He hears the low thud as a sail snaps from slack to full breeze. His eyes light up to remember the galant Lister fighting to save Captain Willy even to the death. He feels warm to think that Rhene is far from the creaking gallows atop a wave somewhere about to plunder a cargo ship, or better, a merchant ship laden with the hard earned pay from a full sale.
As the pictures of Lister laying dead, and escaping the gallows, and Rhene, riding high and safely distant flow through his memory, Willy draws in the strength to speak. He clutches the stems harder as he opens his mouth to meet the crowd.
"Long live Rhene! May he sail far from here to finish what we have begun! Fly Rhene, for here will fall the last of us so bold!"
As his voice booms the crowd falls silent and the executioner lessens his grip on the lever. Willy stands tall, for the first time since his capture, and addresses the crowd as a Captain again.
"T'were well you have put down me and Lister, but ne'r a man the likes of Rhene would be such a fool as to allow the danger of men like these" Willy raises his chained hands to point to his captors. The flowers wag and fall like a white flag, then like a Jolly Roger. Willy becomes more animated and a few of the flowers fall from the now battered stems. The petals shower his boots.
Willy opens his mouth to continue the praise of his steadfast friend. As he speaks he feels the hope of his friend who knew better than to sail to such a place as Twickenham. He casts a brief thought to the many voyages to Twickenham that never ended in Twickenham. He recalled some ten or twelve times they set to the gastly place and some nine or eleven times they altered course because Rhene had reservations.
It was this last voyage in which Rhene chose to break ranks and set course for Barbados while Lister and Willy maintained a course for Twickenham. It was the only time Sir Willy had actually made it to his often dreamed of destination. It was the only time Willy had left Rhene since they met. It was the last time he saw Rhene.
As Willy opens his mouth again, he feels the regret of a Captain who has taken his men into harms way and the hope of the man he loves like father and son who was indeed too wise to venture for any reason into such a cursed land as Twickenham. Willy finally understands that it was Rhene who had saved him from his own desire to sail to Twickenham. Rhene, in the end, knew there was nothing worth going to Twickenham. In Twickenham such a pirate as Rhene would surely be hanged slowly over days.
"You of Twick'n'm will likely never see the fire and wrath of the greatest man of the sea, for he knows there is no treasure here worth the hell you consider your township! To hell you may all go, and know no difference!"
With such taunts and gestures, Willy brings the crowd to a froth as he waves his arms as if to scold and warn the townspeople. His bouquet hangs limp and worthless in his fists as he opens his mouth once again.
"Death! You.."
Before another word is allowed from his now fiery mouth, the executionor pulls the lever and drops the pirate to his death. The crack of his neck interrupt his lecture and his face quickly turns a gastly yellow. The crowd cries out in celebration but is still left with the bitter after taste of the Captain's less than satisfying final words. A mob likes a confession or pleading, but the Captain would have none of it.
As the crowd flows in small convections of anger and celebration, a large figure pushes his way toward the gallows. The figure walks without hesitation to the edge of the platform and raises his eyes boldly to meet those of the newly dispatched pirate. The eyes would bring life to the sack of bones if only respect and loyalty were so strong. Willy would have recognized the man by his forarms if not by his glow and swagger.
Rhene, dressed in clothes better fitting a farmer, makes no effort to hide his face from the executioner, but rather, stares him in the face as if to send him to his death by a glance. Moving to his dead friend and captain, Rhene hoists himself to the deck of the gallows and takes the smashed bouquet from Willy's hands. Then, as quickly as he appeared, he is gone.
In the operating room the doctors are still watching for signs that the operation has been a success. William has been on the table for hours and his family is anxious to know if the doctors think he will survive the surgery. They made no promises that the surgery would be a success in terms of helping William with his problems, but they did make some strong warnings that William might not even make it through the surgery itself.
William's wife and two daughters are pacing in the waiting room. It is a small room all clad in white plastic lamination. It is a little nicer that a usual waiting room in that there are couches and even a couple of blankets in case the wait is exceptionally long. The family has been in the white plastic cell for almost a full day, but it is nothing compared to the years of anxiety and frustration caused by William.
The kids are asleep and dreaming about adventure and wonderous christmas mornings. William's wife has been pacing the floor and tossing back and forth on the couch. She has lost sleep over the operation since it was offered her by the doctors. Then, finally, she can hear the smooth rubber squeek of the gurney as her husband is wheeled down the hospital hallway. She is allowed to look at his face under the new scarf of white gauze that encircles his head. She is horrified by the tubes and needles, but understands the nature of the operation. She doesn't wake the kids, but goes back to pacing as the cart is taken to the recovery room. She hears the metal clank as the gurney goes over the threshold of the double swinging doors.
In the logbook, Rhene pens the date. Then, with steady hand, he inks his quill and enters only these few words.
"Today we took the treasure of Twickenham - t'were handed to me personally by our Captain. Now we are done."
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