Chesapeake (43 page)

Over his crew of fifteen he exercised the most rigorous control, impressing upon them the fact that the pirates had already killed five people in this one escape. He appointed Stooby cook, Paxmore the permanent lookout. He put Tim Turlock in charge of the kegs of powder and the muskets, while he himself managed the tiller and the set of the sails and charted the course to be followed.

The voyage had a strange impact on Paxmore, for now he had an opportunity to watch under sailing conditions how a well-built ship adjusted to the sea. The craft had originally been built in the Spanish Netherlands by Dutch carpenters who knew their jobs; it was now more than seventy years old, patched and repatched until the ancestral planks could scarcely be identified, but its lines had been so sweet, its joinery so right that it was still as sturdy as some rotund factor in his Amsterdam counting house.

When he was not on duty Paxmore studied the operation of the sails and confirmed the thesis of his Bristol instructor: the shrouds steadying the mast did not have to be pulled tight like the strings on a harp; they functioned best when slight strain or none was upon them. He also studied the action of the rudder and learned that it must not fight the sea but ride through it, giving direction, and at the conclusion of this inspection he marveled at how different a ship at sea was from one in a dock. All parts work together. You can hear them speaking.

Whenever he found a scrap of paper he sketched the manner in which a real ship was put together, and this information would become the foundation of his boatyard. He suspected that in the seventy years since this old wanderer was laid down, many improvements must have been devised in London or Boston, but these he would acquire later; what he had in this Dutch treasure was a bible of shipbuilding, and for an artist, which Paxmore was becoming, there could be no stronger foundation.

But now the island of St. Lucia loomed, and the time for study was past. It was Captain Steed’s plan to lie leeward of the French island of Martinique to assure himself that no other piratical ships were moving in the Caribbean, and then to sail as swiftly and boldly as possible to Marigot, hoping to find the
Martha Keene
riding there, but when this plan was put into effect it yielded nothing, for Steed had sailed his craft too well: it had arrived two weeks before the pirates. The bay was empty.

He spent the time devising tactics that would give him an advantage when the pirates did arrive. He had to assume they would approach from the direction of Jamaica and Haiti, so he stationed his ship in a small bay which allowed it to be hidden while observing the entrance to Marigot. He then sent Stooby and Paxmore overland to scout the terrain at Marigot, and from the low mountains that rim that splendid harbor Paxmore looked down on the barracoon he had rebuilt, and the wattled homes where the pirates lived when ashore, and the desultory guards they mounted. He was pleased to see that the routine was careless, but it was Stooby who noticed the protected cove where small pursuit boats were tied. Without uttering a word, he indicated how someone must cut those boats adrift, and he spent a long time plotting paths to that spot.

When Paxmore returned with news that Marigot was sleeping peacefully in the sun and that the barracoons were empty, indicating that no trading ships were scheduled, Captain Steed said, ‘All is in readiness for Griscom. He must come soon.’ And on the morning at about the ninth hour, the
Martha Keene
hove into view, rolling easily on broad swells as it moved toward anchorage. Deftly it negotiated the entrance to Marigot, disappearing behind the headlands like a beautiful woman entering a night room. Stooby, watching from his mountain, waited until the pirates had rowed themselves ashore. He noted every man that went: Griscom loud and licentious, Bonfleur grabbing the waist of a woman
not seen before, six white sailors, but no sign of Charley, nor of Birgitta, nor of any blacks. He carried this perplexing news to his captain.

It was Steed’s firm decision that they must strike that night—‘The pirates will be ashore, and if I know Griscom he’ll be drunk.’ He appealed to Stooby for guidance, and that cadaverous, pockmarked waterman said, ‘Maybe Charley. Maybe two more.’

‘Why won’t the others come back?’

‘Drunk.’ Earl Steed, like the older men in his family, had considered Stooby Turlock an imbecile, and yet he was now prepared to rely on him, for the strange fellow had an animal cunning that produced startling results. Stooby looked at the world, digested what he saw, and reached conclusions. Now he told Steed of the cover where the pursuit boats lay—‘I cut loose.’

Then Steed explained his tactics: ‘At dusk we’ll row this big ship down to Marigot. Stooby, you and Tom go overland to cut the boats adrift, then swim out and we’ll pick you up in the rowboat. Squirrel Hunter, you’re in charge of the rowboat. Paxmore and I will lead the boarding party. And when we get aboard, raise the anchor. Or cut the chain if necessary, and if this wind holds, we’ll maneuver the
Martha Keene
out of the harbor, slap some sailors on her, and be off with both ships to Maryland.’

‘And if there is a numerous guard aboard?’ Paxmore asked.

‘We cut their throats,’ Steed said matter-of-factly, and when he saw Paxmore wince, he added, ‘Remember, they’ve killed five of ours already. They’ll kill all of us if we give them a chance.’

‘And if they resist?’ Paxmore asked.

‘Stooby and I will fire on deck. Squirrel Shooter from the rowboat.’

‘The shore will hear.’

‘They’ll find no boats. Stooby takes care of that.’

‘And if the wind fails? And we can’t move the ship?’

Captain Steed pointed to the barrel of powder resting in the rowboat. ‘We burn her to the water’s edge.’

‘Agreed,’ Paxmore said. Then, quietly, he said, ‘I would not like to carry a knife or a musket.’ When Steed assented, Paxmore said, ‘But if we must burn the ship, let me light the fires.’

Steed nodded and said, ‘Stooby, off to get those boats,’ and the waterman was gone.

The others waited aboard ship till the agreed-upon hour, then launched the rowboat and held it close astern while Steed, Paxmore and Squirrel Hunter climbed down. Using small paddles instead of oars, they penetrated Marigot Bay, listened to the revelry ashore, and waited apprehensively until they saw, in the gloom, Stooby and his mate swimming toward them like a pair of beavers.

Steed was alarmed by what Stooby reported: ‘Quiet, so we swim to
ship. Almost empty.’ One accidental glance by a watchman would have spotted the swimmers and ruined the expedition; what Steed did not consider was that no watchman would have spotted Stooby Turlock, who could slip through water without leaving wakes or splashes.

The five rowed silently to the offshore side of the
Martha Keene,
and when Paxmore held his hand out to prevent them from bumping, he could almost identify which plank he was touching and when it had been attached to the ribs. He patted the dark ship as if it were a pet.

It had been planned that at this point Captain Steed would take over, making crucial decisions as to whether a boarding should be attempted, but to his astonishment Stooby Turlock started talking in a loud voice, using a mixture of Choptank Indian and broken English that no one could have understood but his twin brother Charley, who ran to the side of the pirate ship, peered down into the darkness, and began calling back. The brothers spoke freely for half a minute, during which Paxmore was paralyzed with fright, after which Stooby cried almost loud enough to be heard onshore, ‘Nobody here but Charley!’ And he was up the side of the ship.

He was followed by Steed and Paxmore, and after a moment by the swimmer who had helped Stooby. Each was greeted by Charley’s bear hugs and indecipherable gruntings, and after a delay the invaders attacked the problem of getting the ship under way and out of the harbor.

It proved impossible. The anchor could not be sprung loose. The sails were down and stowed. The invaders had not enough power to row the lumbering craft. And lights were beginning to show onshore.

‘Ho, Charley!’ came Griscom’s deep voice. No response from the huddled raiders. ‘Charley, you idiot! Who’s there?’

Squirrel Hunter, who had been left guarding the rowboat on the offshore side, had pulled himself around the stern end of the
Martha Keene,
and now with the most careful and deliberate movements took aim at the pirate holding the lantern. With one shot he killed Griscom, and hell erupted. There were shouts and screams and running, and little Bonfleur had the good sense to stay hidden behind a tree, for when Squirrel Hunter grabbed his second musket, he picked off another pirate.

‘We’ve got to burn the ship!’ Steed cried, and Paxmore hauled up the keg of powder, but Stooby was already working with his brother, and deep in the bowels of the oaken ship—so strong, so ugly—they had spread powder from the pirate’s store and without instruction had touched it off. A powerful flame surged out of the hatchways, with the twins appearing in its midst, slapping at their burning hair and chortling gleefully.

‘Set fire!’ Steed shouted to Paxmore, but there was no need. Stooby’s blaze swept across the deck, reached Paxmore’s keg and ignited an enormous fire.

‘Out of the lights!’ Steed shouted as gunfire started from the shore. Running to where he had left the rowboat, he started to climb down, but the boat was not there.

‘Where in hell is the boat?’ he bellowed.

‘Here!’ Stooby cried from the flaming darkness, and there it was, on the wrong side, in full target, with Squirrel Hunter and the two Turlocks gunning down pirates as if they were Choptank ducks.

‘God damn it, bring that boat over here,’ Steed roared, but Edward Paxmore warned him, ‘No need to swear. This ship will sail no more.’

Captain Steed would never forget the return voyage from Marigot Bay. As he explained later to his father:

Concerning Edward Paxmore’s behavior, Steed could offer only sketchy reports: ‘The first three days of our return trip he prayed for absolution, and when I asked why, he said, “I resorted to violence,” and I reminded him, “But we took your ship from them,” and he replied, “Yes, and I reveled when Griscom was shot, and for that I am ashamed.”’

But after three days of moral confusion, Paxmore’s countenance cleared and he began to put in order his marine drawings and fill the vacancies until he had as complete a manual of shipbuilding as could have been collected in America at that time. When this was done he fell into a positive euphoria, and one night, hungry for someone to talk with, he pestered Captain Steed on the quarterdeck: ‘I know now that when a man finishes some important task, like writing a book, when the last word is written he wants to start over and do the job right.’ Steed looked at the stars.

‘When the
Martha Keene
caught fire and we watched the flames consume it, I was filled with satisfaction, even though it was my loss.’

‘You’ll cover all losses with our sale of salt.’

‘It was my ship. I had toiled over it, dreamed upon it. My blood was in it, and when we launched it I had prayed it would float. But when it sank I was exultant, because I could start over and build a real ship.’

Captain Steed told his father, ‘And there he stayed all night, striking his leg with his fist and muttering over and over, “A real ship, a real ship.” When I went below for soup he was still there, moving his arms as if designing spars and curves.’

He was there when the captain returned to the deck, but he was not noticed, for a strange affair was taking place at the edge of the hold containing the salt. Timothy Turlock, recalling the hours of fruitless work he had spent trying to evaporate salt on the Choptank, was elated to think that on Sal Tortuga it could be mined like sand, and in the sheer joy of knowing that he would not have to work again, he was pissing into the hold.

‘Get away from there!’ Steed shouted. ‘Charley, get that damned fool back from that salt.’

‘Pop!’ Charley grunted, adding words that were unintelligible. When his father refused to listen, Charley pushed him away. He stumbled, backed against the railing and fell overboard.

‘Turn the ship!’ Captain Steed shouted, but there was no way to do so. ‘Get that boat in the water,’ but it could not be lowered. Impassively, the ship moved on.