Willie Bear
By Rick Salsman, Copyright 1996 All Rights Reserved
I give a strong blow to the lamp and feel my own warm breath on my hand as the wick adds heat to the burst of air. The wick wags like a tongue as the cold alcohol spittle sprinkles my fingers. The flame vanishes leaving a thick trail of smoke that soon piles upside down against the ceiling before being drawn out through the open vent windows.
As I set the lamp to the table I feel the fine satin against my face. In six days sleep has evaded me for a majority of the hours. My cutlass rests beside my pillow and tonight I'll sleep with my boots tightly tied as hatches battened for a storm. The sea has been calm. It is the storm blowing soft and hot under the collars of the men that I fear will be our undoing.
Not a moment before my salted eyes press together to shut out the crystal light from the late moon do I hear the sound of a scuffle. Two men are drawn on each other in a mighty brawl. I can hear the sounds of fists and thick skin meeting to cause undue damage. Neither man makes a sound except that brought by the impact. Then the sounds subside. I would stir from my bunk, except that the deep sound of the splash outside my window indicates an acceptable end has been reached. The men are nervous.
We had sailed together some three years. Split only on occasion to spend our hard earned loot. The splintering came not two months ago when our democracy split nigh in two. T'were after the Salinas was our victim and the men had occasion to take treasure and vessle in two directions. Under my command remained some thirteed bold and branded buccaneers. Men of stamin and honour. Under Teach were some eleven of the same metal. Teach was to Ocracoke and I to Twickenham. The dozen of them were set to end the lifestyle. My men have six days since had second thoughts. It makes no matter now, the Salinas is a memory to us now. She surely rides high in the water and those twelve are certain to be enjoying a fine life under Teach.
Above deck the sounds are growing to the point that I cannot take my rest. It has been like this and is likely to be so for another three at least. Twickenham isn't what most men call a safe harbor. Still, these who sail above now all know the lure of the Twickenham stores and treasures. Twickenham is like to set us back to sea in numbers on one hand, yet stores beyond quantity. Not just food stores: gold. Spanish gold, French, and Dutch all lay deep in the slow and poor made trade ships from Twickenham. I heard tale of Silver as well. Beatles made of pure silver. They glisten white in the sun and call to men who know well to let be such temptations. It is the superstitions that keep the men awake. It is the men who keep me awake; drunk on fear and second thoughts.
As the sounds accumulate in my mind and the echoes boom in my barrack I am drawn, again, to the deck to settle the dispute. It is the first hand and the cockswain locked in fist and arm.
"Stop ye drunken lassies or I'll take a moment to show ye battle with the sea. Drownin' for both of ye if thar's no way make for a little peace."
The Cockswain is twenty pounds more a man than I could be. He breaks his grip on the first hand, Lister, and I see his eye salute me. It is certain not my self that he salutes, but my uniform. The Cockswain is a loyal man who knows duty. Lister glances as if to send another broadside to my loyal and then stands to; adjusting his shirt and cap. He drags the back of his hand across his bleeding lip and his tongue briefly slithers out to clear the blood from his wound. Perhpas to get a taste of his deeds.
"Stand to. What're ye doin' to come to this? Are we sailing for Twickenham to arrive three of our fourteen? I say tis nothing to make way to split such booty in fewer portions. Is that the way for it?"
The Cockswain stands to attention and gives his pledge of loyalty. He still offers no explanation.
"Sir, were it that the men understood Twickenham, as I have tried to explain it, then I could sail free of concern. Yet, you keep from them the power and history of Twickenham as to keep their own end a mystery. I say no more! We should to Ocracoke with Blackbeard. he is sure to find riches great as in Twickenham and not be laid to waste as we are certain to be."
I can see that Lister has been sewing seeds of superstitions. Perhaps he is to fright the men to fights and mutiny as to take a larger portion. Perhaps he has indeed heard the tales and knows enough to keep his bravery in check. He gives a hard stare that changes tack and sends him to me in battle position.
In a moment Lister is on me and I am forced to draw my cutlass to defend against his own dagger. I cut his knuckles and the dagger finally drops into the still sea below. In the light of the moon I can see his hand bleeding down his arm as he raises the woulded weapon above his head and brings it down at my face. Dodging to the side I trip him in his own zeal and send him to the deck.
Face down he squirms to right himself but I have my boot between his shoulders and he cannot rise. I would rather just leave my dagger between his shoulders and let the fish feed full on the opportunistic leech, but the men are sure to need an example.
Lister gave a gasp and reached back to grab my boot, but I kept the pressure up. I felt his chest rise with a breath and I mocked at his foolishness as he spoke to beg for mercy. As he spoke I lowered the boot and held it. As he tried to gasp again I applied a little more persuasion to him until I could feel his chest was without trace of breath in it. As he struggled I began my lecture to the crew now assembling all around the scuttle.
"Men are built to survive. When a man doesn't survive he is sure not meant to be built of that which makes him worth to be a man. If a man survives it is good, yet if a man survives and makes himself rich he is sure more a man than any other. It is from lesser men that we superscede survival and prove our right place as measured in riches. Men like these are not men, not even sailors. Lister here, see his list now, is such a sailor as to drown his whole crew in sleepless fear. He is to run aground and leave in the Jollyboat while his men starve and bake in the sun. Now he is so low a man, and sailor, as to have the chance to drown here on deck for us to enjoy!"
As I pressed my boot a little deeper into his back I felt his last energy leave. I rolled the scoundrel on his back and mocked him for his slack sails and then gave a shove of him into the cool glass water below. I showed how a man with no breath sinks like a man too loaded with treasure. Then I noted the crew more closely.
The Cockswain had still his air of respect and duty, only now the men were in line behind and around him. They looked with stiff gaze at him, still in his plain uniform. Then I saw the third and least hands part and motion to me to stand to. Between them I could barely see the black metal, but sure I was what lay behind the men and their formations. In duty and tradition I clutched my cutlass and raised it above my head without moving a step for or aft.
As the men touched the flame to the cannon I felt the rush of cool night air that I knew preceded the iron ball. I felt the calm of the night in the eyes of the men who had, by now, elected a new captain. I was careful to breath the cold air, knowing that the fire of the shot was soon to be upon me. I filled my lungs and realized that the sound had reached me before the shot. I felt my pockets and the fullness of the gold coins comforted me.
I sat up in my bed and clutched the down comforter that my aunt Jody gave me. I felt the way it was worn by the years I have had it. In the dark I could see my face in the mirror. I looked at myself and saw how the sweat gathered on my cheeks reflected the dim light of the safety bulb plugged by my headboard. I reached and turned on my light, careful not to touch the metal parts that I think might shock me. The bulb illuminated the room and I knew that everything had been a dream. My number radio told me it was only worth 5:30 dollars so I knew I had a little more saving to do before morning. I can't take a shower until after it is worth eight. I grabbed my stuffed parrot and tried to go back to sleep. My aunt gave me the parrot with a copy of Treasure Island. I am glad Mr. Lister said it was ok to sleep with. He seems to understand me.
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