Kydd Read Online Free Page A

had retreated into a tiny ball glowing deep inside.
    “Now, come on, men — heave away for your lives!” Lockwood yelled.
    The men threw themselves at the bar in a furious assault. The heavy cable lifted from the deck and thrummed in a line direct from the hawse. Nothing moved.
    “Avast heaving!” Garrett screamed.
    The men collapsed at the bars, panting uncontrollably.
    Garrett sidled up behind Lockwood, whose pale face remained turned away. “You have here a parcel of lubbers who don’t know the meaning of the word work,” he said. “There’s only one way to wake these rogues up to their duty, you’ll find.” He moved forward and glared at the men contemptuously. Only one side of his face was illuminated, adding to its demonic quality.
    His chin lifted. “Boatswain’s mates, start those men!”
    Unbelieving murmurs arose as the petty officers hefted their rope’s ends and closed in.
    “Silence!” Garrett shrieked. “Any man questions my orders I swear will get a dozen at the gangway tomorrow!”
    “Heave ’round!” Lockwood called loudly, but with a lack of conviction.
    The men bent to their task, but their eyes were on the circling boatswain’s mates. There was no movement at the capstan. A vicious smack and a gasp sounded. Then more. Still no displacement of the thick cable, which was now so tight that it rained muddy seawater on the deck. The blows continued mercilessly.
    Kydd heard the
whup
a fraction before the blow landed, drawing a line of fire across his shoulders. The buried resentment exploded, but a tiny edge of reason kept him from a cry of rage or worse.
    There could be no possible escape. While that anchor was so fiercely gripped by the mud they would remain at their Calvary.
    “’Vast heaving!” The bull-like roar of the boatswain broke into the agonized gasping of the men. He was not contradicted by the two lieutenants.
    “All the idlers to the bars — that means all you boatswain’s mates, and you, the fiddler!” He tore off his own faded plain black coat and went to the capstan. “Shove along, matey!” he said, to an astonished marine.
    “And it’s one, two, six an’ a
tigerrrr
!” he roared. “
Heeeeave!
”
    Men fought the bars as though against a powerful opponent. Kydd threw himself at the capstan bar in a frenzy of effort. Spots of light swam before his eyes and he knew no more than the hard unyielding wood of the bar and the gasps and groans from beside him in the sweaty gloom.
    Quite unexpectedly there came a single clank. Then another. Kydd found himself moving forward.
    “Walk away with it, lads. Anchor’s a-trip.”
    Almost sobbing with relief, Kydd kept up the pressure, desperate to avoid a loss of momentum. The clanks now came so regularly that they were almost musical.
    A shout came down the ladder from the relay messenger, acknowledged by Lockwood, who turned quickly and ordered, “’Vast heaving! Pass the stoppers!”
    Light-headed with relief, Kydd hung from the bar.
    “Well done, lads!” the boatswain said, and retrieved his coat. Garrett was nowhere to be seen.
    Kydd gazed muzzily down the length of the ship, then felt the gundeck fall to one side with a stately, deliberate motion, slowly, then faster. He clung dumbfounded to his bar.
    An old seaman chuckled. “Don’t worry, mate, she’s casting under topsails, just taken the wind. Now let’s see those shabs topside do a bit o’ work.”
    The roll slowed and stopped, then returned, remaining at a small but definite angle. Incredibly, there was no other indication that this massive structure could now be moving through the water. Quickly the capstan and gear were secured, and Kydd fell back with profound relief.
    A boatswain’s mate appeared at the top of the ladder and piped, “
Haaaands
to supper!”
    That made Kydd keenly aware that he was fiercely hungry, but in the hubbub nobody seemed to care about the bewildered pressed men who stayed where they were, not knowing what they should