The Quartermaster

By Shaelyn Ryan

I became a quartermaster in the days of my youth— sometime around 1645, I should think. I was everything a good quartermaster should have been. I was ambitious, courageous, and had a head for numbers. The name of Andrés Abrego soon became well-known at sea. I was in high demand, but I settled for a ship called La Rosa Del Mar and never looked back. It was my duty to manage the ship’s finances and distribute any treasures or loot equally amongst the crew, as well as take over for the captain when the occasion demanded.

I enjoyed my time at sea, sailing across the endless oceans blue. The one aspect of being a quartermaster which I did not enjoy was the constant combat between our ship and those of the English and the French. The Spanish governors on the various islands of the Caribbean often sent us to plunder the enemy ships, and even to sink them. I feared for my life when we crossed their paths, but feared even more for the life of my son, Tomás. He was a deckhand on board La Rosa, and a mere fourteen years old when his life was nearly ended in an encounter the likes of which I have never seen before or since. I was forced to go far beyond my duties of quartermaster that day, and I shall never forget it.

The weather was clear that morning, and the sun beat down relentlessly on our crew. Out of the porthole in my cabin wall, I could see Tomás toiling away with the rigging, pausing every few moments to wipe the sweat from his brow. While he laboured under the hot sun, I remained in my cool cabin, carefully dividing our latest plunder into equal parts for each member of the crew. We had recently gained a small amount of gold and ivory from a French ship and I was struggling to keep all the numbers straight in my head. There were nearly a hundred crew members to take into account, after all, and with so little plunder to go around, making things equal was difficult. One moneda de oro for Tomás, one for Carlos, and so and so on. We were to dock in La Habana by sundown and I would distribute the loot there, so I had to finish dividing it before we arrived.

I had just begun to sort the ivory when it hit. In an instant, a hole was torn through the wall of my cabin and a large, round object hurtled across the room and out the other side. Una bala de cañón. We’d been hit. When I was able to move again after the initial shock, I rushed to the hole in my cabin wall and looked out. A large, imposing English galleon loomed above me, and the water grew choppy and dark below. I shook with terror. It was bigger than any ship we had yet encountered.

Knowing that the English would soon be boarding the ship and looking for plunder, I hurriedly shoved as much of the gold and ivory as possible into a leather satchel and shoved it into the pocket of my greatcoat. Taking my cocked hat and placing it firmly on my head, I ventured onto the aft deck and drew my cutlass. The ship was already in chaos. The captain had been torn away from the helm and was engaged in combat with a tall and burly Englishman. All around me, the same scene played itself out with all the members of the crew.

Watching from the shadows, I could see that while members of my crew were mercilessly cutting down the Englishmen, our opponents had different ideas. Once they got the upper hand, they would knock the swords from my companions’ hands and take them roughly by the wrists. They would then lead them to the balustrade and bundle them across one of numerous planks which were extended between our ships. They were taking prisioneros.

I didn’t know what to do. If I joined in the noble fight, I would surely be taken prisoner along with the rest of them. Then what good would I be? Then again, I was just as useless in my current state of idleness. My job on board was to keep the plunder safe and manage our resources. I certainly couldn’t do that as a captive. However, I could hide deep in the ship until the battle was lost or won. If we managed to regain control of our ship and escape, I could simply return to my regular duties and distribute the gold and ivory as promised. If we lost, and the pirates transferred everyone to the other ship, I could wait until the dead of night and sneak aboard their galleon to free my crewmates, for the English would surely take our ship along with everything else.

I had just made up my mind to go down to the very depths of the aft hold and hide when out of the corner of my eye, I saw him. Tomás, mi hijo, had been captured and was being shoved across the planks and onto the other ship. His white shirt was stained with blood and his head was drooping; his face a ghostly white. My head spun. What if Tomás was gravely injured? He might be left to die before I could rescue him. I had another choice to make.

There was nothing for me to do but follow Tomás aboard the enemy ship. Carefully hugging the pouch of gold and ivory to my chest, I snuck towards the balustrade. I could see the name of the English ship, The Scourge of the Mighty, painted on the hull of the galleon. I placed one leg over the side, and a heavy hand fell on my shoulder, twisting me round.

“Awful eager, this one!” The man laughed, the pungent scent of his breath hanging in the air. “He just can’t wait to come aboard!”

I squirmed under his powerful grip, but he would not let go. With my free hand, I drew my cutlass once more.

“Stand aside,” I ordered, “Or there will be sangre.”

The Englishman only laughed, and I wasn’t sure that he had understood me. I attempted to make my point by lunging forward, my sword aimed at his heart. He side-stepped and continued to guffaw. I looked across the void between our ships and saw Tomás being pushed inside a door. He disappeared from my view.

The Englishman’s sword flashed as he brought it down towards me. I held my cutlass above my head and blocked the savage blow, but my blade was brought so close to my nose that it nearly touched it. With all the strength I possessed, I pushed him back and spun out of the way. I landed in the arms of another of the pirates. He knocked my cutlass out of my hand and bore down upon me, leaving me defenceless. He lifted his curved sword and the sun glinted on its evil blade. Helpless, I shut my eyes.

I should have known that he would not kill me. Instead, they took me across to the mighty galleon with all the others. They tied my wrists with rope behind my back, and searched me for weapons. Thankfully, the pouch of gold and ivory was not found, and remained safely tucked inside the chest pocket of my greatcoat. If we managed to escape, we would have a bit of money to put towards the repair the ship and starting anew.

The Scourge of the Mighty was a fine piece of workmanship, as much as I hated to admit it. The wood was polished to perfection and the sails and rigging looked brand new. The hold, where the Englishmen placed their prisoners, was a different story.

It was dark and damp inside, and rank with the smell of blood. There was one dim lamp hung on the opposite wall, and as my eyes adjusted, I saw the other members of my crew all around me. Desperately, I searched the darkness for Tomás, but I was only confronted with the dejected faces of dozens upon dozens of my crewmates.

“Tomás!” I called out. “Tomás!”

Through the grumbling voices of the other men, a youthful— yet pained— cry rang out.

“Padre!” Tomás shouted. “Father, I’m here!”

I stood, trying to see over the heads of the men. Finally, I spotted him. Tomás was lying in the far corner of the hold, clearly in a great deal of pain.

Though my bound wrists hindered my balance, I staggered through the sea of men as quickly as my trembling legs would allow and knelt before my son. His wrists were also tied behind him, and his right side was drenched in blood.

“Mi hijo,” I said, struggling against the ropes that bound me. “Que pasó? What happened to you?”

“It was an Englishman,” Tomás explained. His voice was low and strained. “I fought him, and I suppose I lost.” He smiled weakly at his own joke.

“I’ll get you away from here, Tomás, I promise,” I said. “But you must help me. Have you any weapons?”

“My boot,” he spluttered, nodding. “There’s a knife in my boot. They didn’t find it. Take it out and cut the ropes.”

I turned by back on Tomás and pulled off his boot as best I could with my bound hands. Sure enough, there was a short, bone-handled knife there, and Tomás leaned heavily on me as I sliced through the ropes around his wrists. Once he was free, he did the same for me, albeit a bit more slowly. I flexed my fingers and shoulders upon being released, and placed the knife in my pocket beside the pouch of gold and ivory. I placed Tomás’ arm around my shoulders and led him through the crowd, urging them all to remain silent if they wished to be rescued. It looked like my plan to return and free them all by night might once again become possible, if I could only make it back to our ship unnoticed and tend to my son’s wounds…

As I had suspected, the door to the hold was firmly locked from the outside. I could hear the battle raging outside as the last of our crew fought to escape imprisonment. Abruptly, the door opened and Carlos, another deckhand, was shoved inside by one of the pirates.

Seizing my chance, I drew the knife and leapt forward, placing my arm around the pirate’s shoulders and pressing the cold blade against his throat. He did not struggle as I hauled him back and threw him into the crowd of prisoners. Dragging Tomás out of the hold, I shut the door behind us and left it unlocked. Perhaps some of our crewmates might escape as well.

With the fighting still going on all around, it was not difficult for Tomás and I to sneak past and begin making our way across one of the planks and back to La Rosa Del Mar. I sent Tomás on ahead of me, and we were about halfway there when a dour looking Englishman stepped onto the plank directly in front of us.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, his self-satisfied smile lacking most of its teeth.

I stepped in front of Tomás and stood my ground. The man had an evil-looking cutlass in his hand, covered in the blood of our compatriots. He must have been more astute than most of his crewmates, for he was the first to notice the heavy bulge in my pocket. I was powerless to stop him as he reached forward and drew the pouch of gold and ivory out of my greatcoat. Just as he was about to place the loot into his own pocket, his bloody fingers lost their grip and the satchel tumbled from his hands. Stupidly, I lunged for it.

It was too late for me to save myself by the time I felt the Englishman’s boot come into contact with the back of my knee. I plummeted towards the sea, which had grown ever more choppy and cold as the sky darkened and clouds swirled above us. I had just enough time before I struck the water to remember to hold my breath.

The shock was terrific. My entire body tensed, and I could have sworn my heart stopped beating for just a moment. Before I surfaced, I caught a glimpse of the pouch of gold and ivory sinking towards the bottom of the sea, far out of my reach. What had I just sacrificed for that pittance?

This was the end, I knew it was. Tomás had disappeared from view above me, and I was going to drown in the middle of el mar. And for what? A few measly gold coins and ivory trinkets.

I glanced about, desperate to turn the situation around, yet found no way to board either ship. The sides were smooth and slippery, and there was no chance that I would be able to climb up by myself. I was about ready to consign myself to my fate when I heard a soft creaking above the crash of the waves and the shouts of the pirates. Looking up, I saw the mast of our ship swaying in the wind. I sighed. It was nothing I had never heard a million times before. The only difference was that this might well be the last time.

I stared at the mast intently, almost as if to say goodbye. I didn’t want to tear my gaze away, for it would certainly be the last chance I had to see it. My eyes had glazed over and it had started to rain by the time the rigging finally came down.

I hadn’t realized that the ropes had been so frayed, but I was grateful that Tomás hadn’t gotten around to fixing them yet, for the mess of ropes came tumbling down into the ocean and hung off of the side of our ship. With the last of my strength, I swam towards it and climbed back over. By the time I got aboard, La Rosa was nearly entirely deserted. There was only one thing I could do now to save my crew and my son. I headed for the gun decks.

One of the cannons was already primed and loaded when I arrived, but had not been fired before the gun crew and powder boys were taken prisoner. I had one shot; it had to be perfect. I shoved the barrel towards the hull of the enemy ship, ignited the cannon, and stood back.

BOOM.

A cloud of smoke hovered in the air. I waved it away and peered outside. The cannon ball had ripped a hole through the hull of The Scourge of the Mighty, and I could see it begin to sink as water filled the bowels of the ship. I was elated, but I feared for my crew, my captain, and— most of all— my son. They were all over there. What if they were unable to make it across before the ship went down?

I returned to the aft deck, and a smile spread over my face as I looked across the gap between our ships. The members of my crew, led by our captain, were streaming from the hold and making their way back to La Rosa. Most were coming across the planks, but those who had managed to wrest their wrists free of their bindings were launching themselves into the water and climbing up the fallen rigging, as I had done before. And there, in the arms of the capitán, was my son.

We limped into port at La Habana as best we could after the sinking of the English ship, and I slowly nursed Tomás back to health. When we arrive, no one asked after the gold or the ivory. I think they were all just happy to be alive and free. Nevertheless, I felt the need to end my life at sea and raise my son on the mainland. Tomás was reluctant at first, but it was for the best. I could never bear to see him in such peril and pain again.

I developed quite a detestation for lavish living after that, too. The mere fact that I had nearly lost my son and my life for that small pouch of riches haunted me forever. I never resumed my duties as a quartermaster at sea or anywhere else. Nothing was worth more to me than the well-being of my son. As the old Spanish saying goes, no todo lo que brilla es oro.

Shaelyn Ryan is a young student at Queen's University who is particularly fond of history, long books, pirates, fictional doctors, and the vernacular. She has written and self published two novels, which can be found at her website.