Scarborough Fair - Chris Scott Wilson [39]
Many of Betsy’s crew were natives of Tobago and after docking they asked for an advance on wages to entertain their shipmates ashore. John Paul had refused, wanting to invest all his ready cash in cargo. The men had become angry. Although he could not remember the ringleader’s name now, the man had already proved a troublemaker during the outward voyage. When advance wages were denied, he began to incite the crew. Under threats, John Paul had retreated to his cabin. Angry and humiliated, he had grabbed a sword and returned on deck. The ringleader had been stepping into a boat loaded with his cronies. Seeing the captain, he seized a bludgeon and jumped back on deck. Retreating again, John Paul found himself standing with his back to the open hatch of Betsy’s hold. When the ringleader lunged, John Paul had no choice except death and life. He chose life. He ran his assailant clean through with his sword.
Seeing the man was dead, he went ashore to give himself up to a magistrate who told him he would not need bail, only to present himself when called to trial. Friends, however, advised him on the technical difficulties he could face, perhaps even to the loss of his life, and earnestly urged him to flee. Carrying only fifty pounds, he had crossed the island on horseback within three hours and boarded a ship, leaving his hard-earned wealth behind. Unable to return to Tobago without fear of arrest, the mutiny had cost John Paul his ship, his savings, and the dream of a Virginia plantation. Worst of all it had cost him his name. After that he called himself John Paul Jones.
Now his luck had changed again. Risen to commodore, he was again faced with scum of the earth who wanted to take everything away from him. In Quartermaster Towers’s face he saw the same flagrant disrespect that the mutineer in Tobago had flaunted.
“That concludes the case for the defense, sirs,” Lt. La Brune said, shuffling his papers into a tidy pile before sitting down without a glance at the prisoners.
The commodore stirred. “Thank you, Lieutenant. The court will now retire to consider its verdict.” He rose to lead the company of officers below decks to his cabin. There were only two chairs so they all stood, grateful to be released from the sun’s glare. Paul Jones scanned their faces. “Is there anyone who disagrees with a verdict of guilty?” When there was no response, he nodded. “Good. Let it be known for the record.” He took a glass from a silver tray then gestured for the officers to help themselves to drinks.
Leaving them to talk, the commodore stood alone with his back to the cabin while he stared out over the water. When it was all cut away, he thought, it was all so simple really. The sea, a ship, men to crew her and the stars to navigate by. A thing of beauty, taut canvas, and every man pulling together toward a communal goal. He sighed. As ever, it was up to him to make the pieces fit, using any tool at hand. Even if he had to start from the beginning and create each component before welding them together to convert the illusion into reality. He swung around so suddenly the waiting officers were startled.
“Are you ready, gentlemen?” Without waiting for a reply he strode through the gathering toward the door that would lead to a table in the sun where three men waited to hear their fate.
CHAPTER 7
All eyes swiveled as the officers filed onto the main deck to take their places behind the table. Not one member of the crew spoke. When they were seated,