The Bookman - Lavie Tidhar [72]
They hurried away and returned with a coil of thick rope. They tied one end of the rope in a loop and tightened it around the man's legs.
"Drop him overboard."
"No!"
It was Orphan who shouted, realisation coming a second after the event. He clamped his teeth, expecting at any moment a bullet in the head, or something more dreadful and more prolonged. But Mr. Spoons merely looked at him, his head tilted to one side in what was perhaps amusement, perhaps interest. The pirates, meanwhile, followed Mr. Spoons' orders, and they lifted the struggling man effortlessly, carried him, and threw him overboard.
There was a shout and a loud splash. Mr. Spoons looked away from Orphan, towards the stern. "Take him around to the bow and back. Let him feel the keel. If he's still alive when you haul him up, put him on the account."
"Yes, sir."
The two began to move away, dragging the rope – and the man's body – behind them.
Mr. Spoons slapped Mohsan Jaffery's back. Jaffery looked horrified.
"Störtebeker, Zhi!"
The two pirates who approached swaggered as they walked. They were large, fierce-looking men. Orphan thought he recognised one of them, animalistic face caught at a glance, and a cutlass descending…
"Take Mr. Jaffery here to the hold until we swear them in."
"Yes, Mr. Spoons."
They hurried off, carrying the smaller Jaffery between them.
Mohsan Jaffery didn't look back.
What had saved him – from the keel-hauling and the cat-o'-nine-tails and that final, desperate moment when one of the men, whose name he didn't even know, was forced to walk along a wooden plank that extended over the water, and jump – was the appearance, unexpected and ominous, of the Nautilus' boy-cook.
He was not tied up. He had approached Mr. Spoons calmly and spoke briefly into his ear. Mr. Spoons nodded and then approached Orphan, who he had so far ignored, seemingly intent on leaving him till last, a thought Orphan did not find comforting.
"You," he said. "What will it be? Are you willing to serve under Captain Wyvern? My new friend here tells me you're not much of a sailor, but that you're handy in a fight and good at cards. You go on the account, there'll be plenty of both for you."
Orphan looked at the boy-cook, who nodded to him, briefly. A serene expression. Could he trust him?
Did he have a choice?
"I'll serve," he said.
Mr. Spoons nodded. "I thought so," he said. He knelt down and pulled out his knife.
The knife came very close to Orphan's face. The sharp point of the knife almost touched his eye. Mr. Spoons moved the knife slowly, lowering the flat of the blade so its warm metal touched Orphan's skin. "Next time," Mr. Spoons said, "when I give an order, the only thing you're going to say is 'Yes, Mr. Spoons'."
Orphan tried to breathe as little as he could, and not to move his mouth more than was necessary. The words, therefore, came out of him in a near-whisper.
"Yes, Mr. Spoons."
Mr. Spoons raised the knife (Orphan almost sighed with relief) then lowered it again. Then, with a quick, careful movement, he slashed Orphan's bare left shoulder.
Orphan held on to a scream. He dared do nothing other than blink. His face burned.
"What's your name?" Mr. Spoons said.
"My name is Orphan."
"Remember what I said, Orphan."
"Yes, Mr. Spoons."
The pirate untied him.
Orphan stood up. By the side of the ship Takanobu and Garcia were hauling up the body of the man they had thrown overboard. His face could hardly be recognised, and his clothes were now tattered and bloodied.
"Is he alive?" Mr. Spoons said.
Takanobu checked the body for a pulse and shook his head.
"Then throw him back in and keep the rope."
He turned to the boy-cook. "Aramis, take your friend to the hold to be with the rest of them."
The cook – Aramis? Orphan thought, and realised he hadn't known his name – nodded and said, "Yes, Mr. Spoons," and then motioned for Orphan to follow him.
"Who are you?" Orphan demanded in a whisper as soon as he thought they were out of earshot.
The boy-cook smiled