Debt of Honour

[Tom Benson]

‘Surely not ....’ Jack whispered. The nineteen year old had been marooned on the tropical island for a year. Those responsible were now weighing anchor outside the coral reef. Tears threatened as he recalled 21 March 1847 and his vow to the dying Captain.                         

 

Jack had been one of five sailors to remain loyal during the mutiny.
'Spare the lad's life,' the Captain had pleaded, ‘kill me if you must, but spare him.'
Hunter, the burly First Mate said, 'Okay Cap'n,' then grinned, 'like you, I'm a man o’ me word. We'll make the other four walk the plank, but we'll put young Jack ashore.' He then laughed and thrust his sword into the Captain's chest.
Jack knelt beside his hero and whispered, ‘Fear not sir ...’ he swallowed, ‘justice will be served.’ The Captain’s eyes opened wide and his lips curled. He gripped Jack’s arm, trembled and died. Later, his clothing stained with the Captain’s blood and tears streaming down his face, Jack watched the ship sail into the sunset. He grasped the small wooden box containing the Captain's duelling pistols.

Now one year later, Jack had developed many skills during his solitude. He camouflaged himself and stood inside the tree line watching as the longboat beached. Ten men climbed onto the white sand. Among them was Hunter. His voice boomed out as he looked around. 'Right lads, we'll fill the water barrels, collect fruit and game, then look for the lad's skeleton. Smithy ... you keep watch o'er the boat.'
One man asked, 'What do we do if Jack’s still alive Mister Hunter?'
'We'll celebrate mates ... by killin’ him today.' Laughter erupted as they headed inland.

Jack breathed deeply and his eyes narrowed as he listened. He breathed in the fragrances he had become accustomed to and considered what his noble father might do. He imagined the thoughtful tone, ‘Capture the leader, return him for justice and pardon any man who assists.’ Jack allowed the others to go out of earshot before he approached Smithy. After a short discussion with Smithy and preparation of the longboat, Jack moved swiftly through the jungle carrying his bow and quiver. He caught up with and shadowed the pirates, listening to them discuss their latest skulduggery and plans for his demise.

One hour after leaving the longboat the pirates reached the fresh water. A large pond fed by a massive waterfall. Some dropped their belts and equipment and jumped into the cool clear water ululating. They acted as if the place was their playground. Others filled barrels before plunging into the pond. Unseen, a semi-naked figure moved from the undergrowth to be screened behind the noisy torrent. Jack had grown stronger physically and mentally. He listened patiently as the men bathed and laughed and talked about him.
‘He was a witness ... we should’ve killed ‘im with the others.’
‘We’ll cut ‘im up and leave ‘im to the island’s creatures.’
‘What say you Mister Hunter?’
Hunter bellowed, ‘A lingering death boys, that’s what we’ll give ‘im. A slow, lingering death ....’
‘It seems a pardon will not be sought!’ Jack screamed out.
The splashing and laughter ceased. Every sailor including Hunter stood silently and stared into the dense greenery that surrounded them.
Jack shouted, ‘Any man who helps me will be spared.’
‘You were meant to die here!’ Hunter screamed, ‘and you will.’
‘Remain with Hunter,’ Jack called out, ‘and you will die.’
One man turned in the water and looked directly at the waterfall. He could not avoid the arrow. When it pierced his heart he fell back into the pond and the water frothed as the others scrambled for the bank.

 

During the commotion, Jack slipped into the jungle. As he left the scene, he stopped along the track to untie a knot, or release a straining small branch. There were five places prepared. That would be enough. When content, he took cover and waited. He heard the screams of a man in extreme pain. Jack ran to the spot and glared at the pirate, impaled on bamboo spikes. With a stroke, he silenced him. He heard the muffled chatter of the other men. Like many sailors, they were unsettled by the unknown. One was sent to investigate. When the man reached his comrade, Jack stepped out from the trees. The pirate’s eyes widened as he looked at Jack but before he could cry out an arrow pierced his throat.

'Well?' Hunter's voice bellowed. No response.
Hunter gritted his teeth and breathed through flared nostrils. He moved back in line as he and his landing party started slowly down the track rolling the filled water barrels. Hunter wasn’t afraid, but he was wary. He would keep a safe distance. An arrow sliced through the chest of the front man. Before his body fell, the others ditched their barrels and drew their cutlasses. The lead man went around the next bend alone. There was an unearthly cry and the others stopped. They could hear the injured man screaming. Grouped together they went forward. The pit was three feet deep and the unfortunate sailor was standing in it, leaning forward. His feet and legs were impaled on short, sharp stakes. Hunter looked at the others before thrusting his cutlass through the dying man’s back.

'Now go careful me’ hearties,’ Hunter said quietly, ‘there ain’t no natives here, it’s that brat. Whoever captures him alive gets a hundred sovereigns. Remember boys ... a slow death.' The men cheered.
Jack's was standing in the trees four feet away. He nodded and whispered, 'So be it Mister Hunter.’
Hunter watched his four remaining men go. One with pistol ready, walked down the track. The other three ventured into the woods, cutlasses drawn. The man on the track walked a hundred yards then a vine rope hauled him upwards. Had he not dropped his pistol he would surely have used it on himself. The first wasp stings were uncomfortable, but that would soon seem like nothing. His cries for help could be heard in the bay. No one would be responding.

'Mister Hunter ... we've found his hut!' a man called. Hunter was standing silently on the track. He had his pistol drawn and cocked in his right hand, his left hand resting on his cutlass. 'I'm comin’ for you lad.’ he said. Jack was standing two feet behind him. Hunter stepped off the track into the trees and made his way towards the hut. The three men waited, not daring to go in.
'Go on Jonah,' Hunter said, 'bring me that box. He'll come after that.'
Jonah sheathed his blade and walked straight to the back of the hut. Mounted on the wall above the box was a selection of rudimentary weapons. Jonah had been with Hunter when they left Jack on the shore and he remembered the Captain’s pistols. He raised the lid a fraction and a flash of bright colour burst from the container. Jonah felt a sharp pain in his abdomen and opened his torn shirt to see already discoloured flesh. His scream was a delayed reaction but it reflected his agony. The snake eased itself to the sandy floor and slithered away.
Hunter stepped to the door and grimaced. The box appeared untouched, but Jonah writhed in silent spasms on the floor, the whites of his eyes showing and lips frothing. Hunter turned to speak to the remaining pair but they were already running for the boat.

'Mister Hunter!' came a cry from the beach.
'What now?' Hunter asked as he cleared the tree line. He stared in disbelief. His breathing was deep and rapid. The longboat was gone and Smithy was staked out on the sand. He had an arrow in his chest and crabs were attending to him.
One of the sailors dived into the water and started swimming. The ship was five hundred yards beyond the coral reef and the reef was a hundred from shore. It was too far for a man who'd never swam more than fifty. He went under before the reef.
To the final sailor Hunter said, 'What's wrong with you?'
In reply, the man dropped his cutlass and stepped backwards away from Hunter, eyes wide and jaw slack. He fell to his knees and looked beyond his pirate leader, 'Please spare me Master Jack...'
‘Well,’ Hunter said turning, ‘if it ain’t the Cap’n’s favourite.’ He appraised Jack. Gone was the lad left behind a year before. Standing with bow and arrow was a bronzed Adonis. Long bleached hair lifted gently in the sea breeze as cold blue eyes stared at Hunter. Jack wore only a crude loincloth. He had an arrow aimed at Hunter’s chest but it looked less deadly than the archer’s expression.

‘My father taught me to be a man of honour. He died at the hands of a callous thug.’
‘Aw Jack lad,’ Hunter said, ‘you’re breakin’ me old heart, but we’ve heard enough.’
‘Did you realise that this was the spot you abandoned me?’
‘So you survived,’ Hunter said, ‘well I’ll kill you now?’ As he spoke, he raised his pistol.
Jack addressed the cowering sailor. ‘How many men are on the ship?’
Hunter growled. ‘Don’t answer him!’
'Twenty Master Jack.' the sailor said quietly. Hunter turned briefly and glared at him.
Jack asked, 'Any innocents on board?'
'Do not answer him.' Hunter growled without turning.
'No Master Jack, all -.'
Hunter turned and shot the man dead before facing Jack. He pursed his lips as he looked at the now empty pistol then threw it onto the sand. Cutlass drawn he roared and charged at Jack.
The first arrow penetrated Hunter's right boot lodging in his foot. He cried out in pain and dropped his cutlass. Teeth clenched and face contorted he stared at Jack. In response the next arrow was delivered close to the first. Hunter fell over howling in agony.
Jack said, 'I believe you favour a slow death Hunter.'

It was late when Jack pulled on the oars. He had fruit and sufficient fresh water onboard for a week at sea. Looking back at the moonlit beach he could see the water lapping at Hunter's thrashing legs. His wrists were tied to a stake and Jack wondered if he would drown before the crabs got him. He closed out the sounds of defiant threats, which later became pleading.
Jack reached the ship and silently climbed the anchor rope. He dealt swiftly with the only man on watch then made his way to the magazine. Minutes later he watched the sparks follow the black powder trail on the lower deck. He went topside and dived. Three minutes later as he pulled on his oars Jack saw the night sky illuminated by the ship. As intended it didn't sink but caught fire after the explosion. The sharks would feast.

Light sparkled on the surface of the ocean as the sun breached the horizon. Jack lifted the box at his feet. He looked once more at the gleaming duelling pistols. His eyes moistened and his lips curled. He closed the latch on the box then lowered it to the water and watched it disappear.
'Justice is served ... rest in peace father.'

The end