rotate to face the sea under the leverage of the big after sail.
'What? Belay that, you dogs!' yelled Swaine. His eyes were red and hair plastered down his face by the rain. 'What are you about, sir?' he threw at Jarman, before screaming down the deck, 'Let go anchor!'
The men forward were making ready to cat and secure the anchor shank painter and were totally unprepared, the windlass taut and the cable on the pawl. The gawky Parkin had charge of the operation and floundered.
'God rot me bones!' spluttered Merrick, and thrust forward hastily, but the situation was already in hand: Doud's furtive bringing in of the main sheets had given force enough for the bows to swing. Swaine seemed to ignore his previous order with the promise in the bow's swing. 'Carry on, then, Mr Jarman,' he said testily, handing the deck to the master.
'Never seen such a dog's breakfast,' Doud muttered, under his breath — but not quietly enough.
'You, sir!' Swaine rounded on him. 'Damn your sly ways — I heard your vile words. Y' think to slander your ship, do you? Bo'sun! Do you gag this infernal rogue.'
Kydd watched with growing anger as Stiles found an iron marline spike, which he forced between Doud's teeth, securing it in place with spun-yarn. The quarterdeck fell quiet at the manifest injustice. Doud would wear the 'gag' until given leave to remove it
Seaflower made the open sea and shaped course for Port Antonio, some small hours away. There they landed their packets and bags and took on two slim packages before resuming their voyage to St Kitts and thence Barbados.
Kydd thought it an unworthy spite that Swaine did not have the gag removed until after the noon meal — and the grog issue. In the way of sailors Doud would later enjoy their sympathy and illegally saved rum, but that was not the point.
A fine north-easterly had them bowling along the familiar passage south of Hispaniola and by evening they had the precipitous knife shape of Cape Rojo abeam. 'Up spirits' was piped, but there was not the usual happy hum on the berth-deck as the grog was measured out. The popular Doud was well plied with good cheer, but all the talk was on the Captain's character.
Watch-on-deck turned to; there was not a lot for them to do in the steady sailing weather, and they hunkered down in the warm breeze. Doud made himself comfortable on the main-hatch gratings and, looking soulfully at the stars began singing softly, his voice coarsened with rum:
'Tis of a flash frigate, La Pique was her name,
All in the West Indies she bore a great name;
For cruelly bad using of every degree,
Like slaves in the galley we ploughed the salt sea.
So now, brother shipmates, where'er ye may be
From all fancy frigates I'd have ye steer free ...'
Too late Doud recognised the dark figure of Swaine looming and scrambled to his feet. 'Do y' wan' the second verse?' he said truculently, to his captain.
Swaine didn't answer at first. Then he bawled, 'Mr Merrick!' down the deck to the helm.
'Aye, sir?' said the boatswain, hurrying to the scene.
'What's this, that you have a man on watch beastly drunk?' A thick edge to the words betrayed the Captain's own recent acquaintance with a bottle, but there could be no answer to his question: there was a fine line to be drawn between the effect of the usual quarter-pint of spirits and that of more. Swaine turned back to Doud. 'I came to tell this rascal to hold his noise but I see this - seize him in irons, and I shall have him before me tomorrow.'
'We have no irons in Seaflower? said Merrick, expressionless.
'Then shackle him to the gratings right here, you fool,' Swaine hissed.
At seven bells of the forenoon the following day, the ship's company of Seaflower mustered on the upper deck. Kydd saw the
