The Pirates in the Deep Green Sea

ERIC LINKLATER

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

For three days there had been a gale from the west, but now it was nearly calm again and the sea was blue. The Atlantic swell still broke on the cliffs, thudding and slapping and splashing great fountains high in the air, but in the bay there was smooth water. The tide was out, and Timothy and Hew and Sam Sturgeon were looking for treasure. The bottom of the sea was a strange and secret land that no one had ever explored, but sometimes the sea itself disclosed some of the curious things that lay hidden in its caves, or in forests of ribbon-weed, or among the green timbers of long-lost ships. Sometimes a gale brought ashore old bones, gold coins, and cannon-balls. In North Bay, it was said, lay the wreck of a pirate ship, and part of the skeleton of a great whale had once been
thrown up by a winter storm on the beach of Inner Bay.

Far above the water's edge there was a little wall of seaweed, running all round the bay, that had been broken from its roots and carried inland by the storm. Timothy and Hew and Sam Sturgeon, with bare feet and a very serious expression on their faces, were trampling the seaweed, and pulling it apart and feeling it with their toes. It was dry, crackly, and dusted with sand on top, but underneath it was cold and slippery. They had been treasure-seeking for an hour, and found nothing, when suddenly Timothy gave a yelp of pain like a frightened dog, and danced on his right foot, and cuddled the other in both hands. He had found a cannon-ball, and his big toe was very sore in consequence.

He was a neat and nimble boy, not very big for his age, which was eleven, but he was quick on his feet and his mind was quick too. His brother Hew was two years younger and three inches taller, and when they fought together Hew was usually the winner. But they seldom quarrelled—not more than once a month or so—because Timothy was good-tempered and Hew respected him. Sometimes, however, Hew would wake in the morning and think how tall and strong he was, and out of pure happiness and the desire to show off his strength, he would throw a pillow at Timothy and shout, ‘Let's have a fight!'

Then five minutes later, sitting on Timothy's
chest, he would probably say, ‘I'm very, very sorry, but I'm afraid you're going to have another black eye. I really didn't mean to hit so hard. Honestly I didn't.'

And Timothy would answer, puffing and panting, ‘You're a stupid, clumsy, hulking brute. You ought to have been a cart-horse, and then you might be some use in the world. But as it is, you're just a nuisance. And now get off my chest, because your nose is bleeding and it's dripping on me.'

Later in the morning they would tell Sam Sturgeon about the fight, and Timothy would say, ‘We fought for about half an hour at the very least, I think.'

‘It must have been longer than that,' Hew would protest. ‘It couldn't have been less than three-quarters of an hour, and perhaps it was more.'

‘And I wish I'd been there to see you at it,' Sam would answer. ‘You've got a nose like an old tomato that someone's trod on, and it must have been a nice straight punch that did that to you. And you caught Timothy a proper good 'un, didn't you? His right eye looks like a nice spoonful of blackberry pudding, if you ask me. Oh, it's a shame I wasn't there to see you at it!'

Sam Sturgeon was a tall man with long arms who looked rather like a hare. He had a small head, great pointed ears, and a receding chin; and his big round eyes were dark and melancholy. He was forty-five years old, and for more than half his life he had been in the Royal Marines. He
knew a great deal of geography, and could draw useful maps of the West Indies, the coast of Africa from Cape Town to Zanzibar, the Mediterranean, the China Sea, and the Yangtse-kiang. He was also well acquainted with Captain Horatio Spens, late of the Royal Navy, whose servant he had been for many years; and that was even more useful than his knowledge of geography, because Captain Spens was a very difficult man. Timothy and Hew were not afraid of him — they were indeed quite fond of him — but sometimes they watched him as carefully as if he were a kicking horse. He was their father, and he, more than any of them, would be excited by the cannon-ball that Timothy had found.

Having rubbed the pain out of his toe, Timothy picked up the round iron ball, and Hew and Sam Sturgeon came hurrying to look at it.

‘That makes seven altogether,' said Hew, ‘and it's the same as the others.'

‘Father's right,' said Timothy. ‘There must be a ship in North Bay.'

Sam Sturgeon whistled a little tune and said, ‘The Old Man won't half be pleased when he sees that. There'll be half a crown apiece for you, when you get home, and a nice glass of rum for me.'

Very solemnly they all stared at the cannon-ball. It was about four inches in diameter, a rusty-red and cracked with rust, and it closely resembled six others that had been found on the beach in the last
ten years. There was a very old story in the island that a pirate ship, coming home from a seven years' voyage, had been wrecked on the west coast; and though most of the crew had come safely ashore, it was said, they had all been captured by sailors of the Royal Navy, and taken to Execution Dock, where they were hanged. Captain Spens believed the story, because, he said, the master of the ship, who had been drowned, was his ancestor; and he had spent a lot of time and trouble and money in looking for the wreck. Ten years before, soon after the first cannon-ball had been found on the beach, he had picked up a human skull with a little slit in the top of it, like the opening of a money-box, and seventeen gold coins inside. The skull stood on the Captain's writing-table, on a pedestal that Sam Sturgeon had carved from a piece of old oak, but the seventeen gold coins had been spent long ago. For the Captain was by no means rich, and certainly not rich enough to save any money.

Hew and Timothy—Timothy with the cannon-
ball in his hands—all stood silent, and thought about the Captain. He was a very good man, but he had a very bad temper. He had fought in two wars, and in one he had lost his left eye and his left hand, and in the other his left leg had been shot off just below the knee. To a stranger who saw him for only a little while, Captain Spens still seemed to be quite an ordinary sort of man, for he wore a handsome glass eye in place of that which he had lost; he had an imitation hand that was always covered with a brown leather glove; and his artificial leg was so good that he could walk five miles. But the people who had to live with him—who were Timothy and Hew and Sam Sturgeon and Mrs. Matches the housekeeper—knew that when he lost his limbs he had lost his temper too.

‘It just ran out of him through all the wounds he got,' Mrs. Matches used to say.

‘He's a very nice gentleman in reality,' Sam would explain, ‘but when he starts shouting, well, you take my advice, and clear out!'

So now all three of them—Timothy with the cannon-ball in his hands—stood in the seaweed and seriously considered what they should do next. Presently Timothy said, ‘It must be about eleven o'clock. He'll be reading history-books or studying his charts. I don't think we ought to interrupt him just now. Let's go for a swim first, and show him the cannon-ball at lunch-time.'

‘That's sensible,' said Sam Sturgeon, and immediately took off his coat and shirt and trousers.
Underneath he wore red woollen bathing-drawers and some very handsome pictures that had been tattooed on his back and chest and arms. On his chest there was a full-rigged ship sailing on a calm sea with two mermaids watching her. Sea-serpents, twining and twisting, decorated his arms, and on his back a white man and a negro were boxing in a very fierce but scientific style. Hew and Timothy wore only jerseys and short trousers, and nothing at all when they ran down the beach and into the sea.

They were all good swimmers, and without any trouble or stopping for a rest they swam to the outermost limit of calm water, and farther than that Sam Sturgeon would not let them go; for beyond the bay the sea was dancing again, and the tide, which had turned and begun to flow, was setting strongly to the north. So in the smooth green water they floated, or dived like ducks and came up again, and talked about the treasure that might be lying beneath them. Then Hew, bobbing out of the water, cried, ‘Oh, look! Look there! Who's that?'

One after another they bobbed as high as they could, and each in turn saw a remarkable and unexpected sight. In the rougher water beyond the shelter of the bay, among bright waves that rose and fell with ragged silver tips, there floated at ease a man with a bald head, a red nose, red patches of hair above his ears, and red side-whiskers, and in his mouth a short clay pipe from
which came little puffs of smoke as if he were a steamer.

“Well, bless my immortal soul,' said Sam Sturgeon, ‘if it isn't Gunner Boles!'

‘I thought it was,' said Hew, spluttering because he had swallowed a mouthful of water.

‘You don't remember him,' cried Timothy, bobbing again. ‘You were too young.'

‘No, I wasn't!' answered Hew indignantly. ‘I remember him as well as you do.'

‘You can't. You were only five.'

‘Well, you were only seven!'

‘Pipe down!' said Sam Sturgeon. ‘There's no one wants to hear you talking. Not when there's Gunner Boles out there, as large as life and pining for intelligent conversation. Pipe down, I say!' And treading water he waved his long right arm like a semaphore, and shouted as loudly as he could, ‘Ahoy there! Ahoy there, Gunner Boles! Good morning to you, Gunner Boles, and what are you doing up here in these high latitudes?'

A long, long time ago, more than four years ago, Timothy and Hew and Sam Sturgeon had been afloat on a raft in the South Atlantic. It was a very small raft, and as it tilted this way and that in the lift and the fall of the sea, the grey salt water came spilling over its floor. Timothy and Hew were tied to the planks — not tightly, but not very comfortably either — and Sam Sturgeon, balancing like a proper sailor, stood and searched the horizon for any sign of help.

Captain Spens had been stationed in Ceylon, and for some time they had all been living there in great comfort. But then the Captain had gone back to sea, and their mother had decided to come home, though everybody knew how dangerous that was in time of war. But Mrs. Spens liked to have her own way, whether there was a war or not, so presently they embarked in a large ship called the
Blue Moon
, and Sam Sturgeon came with them, because Captain Spens had left him behind to look after them. And that was very lucky for Timothy and Hew.

After she had been at sea for about two weeks, the
Blue Moon
was torpedoed one evening by a
German submarine, and before she could sink everybody took to the boats. Mrs. Spens, who was playing bridge in the saloon, was carried on deck by a tall man with a black moustache who put her into one of the largest of the boats, though all the time she was struggling in his arms and protesting that she must go and look for her two sons. But the man with the black moustache paid no attention, and the large boat pushed off, and Mrs. Spens sat in the bottom of it and cried most bitterly. She would have wasted her time, however, and perhaps even lost her life, if she had stayed aboard the
Blue Moon
. She would never have found Timothy and Hew, who were both in the engine-room with Sam Sturgeon.