The Bookman - Lavie Tidhar [71]
"Eeny, meeny, miny, moe," Captain Wyvern said, almost singing, raising his pistol and pointing it at each bound sailor in turn, "catch a sailor by the toe." He continued to move the pistol from man to man. Orphan watched the horror on the sailors' faces, and felt fear clawing at his own. The bald pirate continued to smile.
"Please!" one of the sailors, a burly, red-headed man, said.
"If he squeals then let him go," Captain Wyvern said, more softly now, ignoring him. "Eeny, meeny, miny… moe."
The shot was a deafening thunder, a remnant of the storm. The ball from the pirate's pistol hit the sailor closest to Orphan, a short, badly wounded man whose head exploded with the impact, spraying Orphan with blood and brain.
Orphan screamed.
The bald pirate said something quietly to Captain Wyvern. The lizard nodded and seemed to smile. "Gentlemen!" he cried, lifting his hands as though wanting to embrace the bound sailors. "Welcome to the Joker!"
He nodded, as if making a note to himself of their response, and said, "This is Mr. Spoons."
The bald pirate took one step forward. Again, he scanned the row of captive sailors. Again, he wore that strange, detached smile.
"Mr. Spoons is my boatswain," Captain Wyvern said. "I will now leave you in Mr. Spoons' capable hands. He is here to ask you a very simple question, gentlemen. Sink or swim. Live or die. Turn pirate, or turn fish-bait. No," he said, raising his hand to silence one of the sailors, "don't answer me. It is Mr. Spoons that you answer to now. Mr. Spoons – they're yours." And he turned and marched away from them, leaving the men alone with the bald pirate.
"Thank you, captain," Mr. Spoons said. He had a surprisingly high, though rather pleasant, voice. "You," he said, and pointed at a man in the middle of the group. "What is your name?"
"Sizemore, sir. Jason Sizemore."
"And your role on the Nautilus, Mr. Sizemore?" Mr. Spoons said.
"Ship's carpenter, sir."
"Like the good shepherd," Mr. Spoons said, and smiled pleasantly, and shot him in the face. The sailors on either side of him screamed. Orphan, this time, held in his own reaction. "I wonder if, like the good shepherd, you too could come back from the dead."
He turned and scanned their faces. "You," he said, pointing to an Indian-looking man tied up between Orphan and the dead Sizemore. "What's your name?"
"Mohsan Jaffery," the man said. He did not call Mr. Spoons sir. "Engineer and gunner."
"You've caused us a bit of damage," Mr. Spoons said.
"I hope so," Mohsan Jaffery said.
Mr. Spoons smiled. He approached Jaffery and knelt down beside him. His hand reached to his side and returned with a large, ugly-looking knife. The knife descended. Orphan tensed against his bonds.
"Stand up," Mr. Spoons said. He had merely untied Jaffery's knots. "Pick a man."
"Sir?" Jaffery looked at Mr. Spoons' face and looked hurriedly away. Confused, he looked at the captive sailors. They looked back at him, some pleading silently, some stoic, one or two with anger on their faces. "Him," Mohsan Jaffery said, and pointed at a large, short-haired man whose face had suddenly drained of blood.
"Why?"
"He is a good man. He is a gunner too. He speaks three languages fluently. Sir, he is a good sailor."
"What's your name, son?" Mr. Spoons said.
The man looked up at him slowly. "Does it matter?" he said. Mr. Spoons smiled.
"Will you go on the account, or die?"
The man smiled back. It was only a little smile, but it was there when he said, "Only as long as it would take me to kill you."
Mr. Spoons continued to smile, and he nodded, as if he were an MP agreeing with one's colleague in parliament.
Then he said, "Takanobu! Garcia! Come here!"
Two pirates hurried over from where a group was fixing one side of the ship.
"Yes, Mr. Spoons."
"Tie up his legs with rope. A long rope."
"Yes, Mr. Spoons."