Mackett's Origins Read online

the whole deck, but he didn’t pause for effect. The second his feet hit the deck he was sprinting towards Percy. The Captain almost reacted in time but Mackett smacked the cutlass from the Captains hand. The Marines looked stunned as they struggled to figure out what to do. In their confusion they dropped the cook. The man crawled away from the puddle of his blood that had been forming and towards some of the gun crews above deck.

  Mackett stood defiantly against the Captain and the Marines. The Captains eyes grew wide with fury and his nostrils billowed in a grotesque imitation of a bull. He made a step towards Mackett. I had been so captivated by the scene bellow I had forgotten about Williamson completely, but my forgetfulness was soon corrected by Williamson himself. I never saw where he came from but he dropped on Percy like the fist of god. He came in fist first and took Percy straight to the ground in front of the Marines. Williamson and Mackett stood side by side on the deck, standing like avenging angels weighing Percy’s sins. The whole scene stood balanced in precarious silence. 

  It was shattered first by the Marines. As a group they bellowed a battle cry and charged at Williamson and Mackett. They crew stood stupid as they watched the display of violence. The first Marine to make it to Williamson went to pull his cutlass free was met with a brutal blow to the face. Williamson then grabbed the cutlass free and flung it in to the waves as he came back for a second punch to the Marines face. The Marine dropped like a powder sack. The second Marine already had his cutlass out when he made it Mackett. All Mackett did was dodge the swings until Williamson weaved in under a to careless thrust and drove a first straight in to the man’s chest. His meaty hand made contact like cannon ball against a barrel; the Marine went wide eyes before a third Marine managed to jab furiously at Williamson. Mackett already had a cutlass in hand but he was too late. The cutlass came within a hairsbreadth of Williamson arms before Mackett parried the blade towards the second Marine. In the furious fighting it was hard to tell which cutlass spilled the blood but the second Marine fell to the deck gutted. It was a short fight from there. Williamson kept his up his flurry of fists and Mackett parried and dodge with his cutlass. It was like a ballet preformed by drunken priests. It was beautiful and holy, but awkward and hard to follow.

  The fight ended in three dead or dying Marines and one unconscious one. Percy stood behind the dead men and looked completely flattened by the violence. Mackett and Williamson were officially mutineers. The crew pressed in around the three men and I found myself leaning on the railing of the bow to get a better look at what would happen. I knew the grumblings of the crew were against Percy, but Mackett and Williamson were also a troublesome pair and I fear for a moment what might happen.

  A call went out from behind the crowd. “Kill the bastard!” The cry was picked up through the crew and became a chant.  Sailors and gunmen alike pressed in from all sides and carried the call. For a second the ship was a storm of shouting and screaming and at the eye of the storm stood the three men. They were encircled by fury and hate. It was awe inspiring.

  Mackett held his hands aloft for a few short seconds. “Silence!” His voice carried over the deck and the men fell hushed. “Throw him in a skiff. Give him plate and a mug. Fill them with nothing.” The men surged forth binding Percy and tossing him in one of the wooden boats along the side of the vessel. I hardly dared to make a sound as the men worked to set Percy a float. The man seemed utterly lost in the situation and seemed to have given up on his Captaincy. It was not a proud moment for any man, but it had to be done. He had slaughter to many good men to be kept aboard. He was lucky the men didn’t haul him under the ship like he had done to that poor man. He was lucky we didn’t slice him up like he had planned for the cook. We should have shot him, like he did the quartermaster. I should have kicked him overboard like he did to that poor boy.

  It all came rushing back to me. I pitied the way he sat in that boat, being lowered in to the ocean. I pitied him his fate, but he handed out worse fates to far better men and deserved no pity from me.

  I stayed at the bow as I watched his boat hit the water. He would most likely starve at sea, the plate and mug a haunting memento of his own cruelty. His boat was caught in a current and was carried swiftly away from us. As he passed the bow I watched as he drifted by, his coat tails tucked under him like a dog’s tail after a savage beating. Mackett and Williamson joined me on the bow along with a great many crew man to watch as Percy drifted in front of us.

  “Do you think you can hit that target from this range, Stapes?” Mackett said to me in a low growl.

  “Boy, I could drop that cannonball in a barrel back in England. What I cannot do is shoot an unarmed man in a perfectly good boat.” I replied with all my conjured civility. 

  Mackett sighed heavily. “I am going to regret letting that man live. I can feel it in my bones.” I left the bow of the ship to go and examine the cook.

  As I approached the bloody mess around where the cook had come to rest I feared for the worst. I am not a doctor, but I have seen my fair share of brutality and this man’s wounds looked grave. The stab looked deep and the gash across his chest looked no better. The swipe that had severed his ear also appeared to have shaved off a portion of his neck. I leaned in close to check the man’s state. It was only then that I noticed he was no longer bleeding from his wounds. I crouched in the pooled at his feet and gently closed his still eyes. No man should die like that. I could tell you how long I stayed crouched in front of the cook’s body.

  “It’s a damn shame.” A voice came from behind me. It took me a second to register the lilting accent of Williamson. “No man should die like that. At least he had the honor of knowing someone stood up for him.” I mulled the thought over in my head. Why did it take this long for us to throw that cruel bastard over? Why did I spare him his well deserved fate? 

  Williamson stood over me for a few long moments before I spoke. “I was raised in a small, putrid town. The thought of the air there still stings my nose. I became a sailor to get away to the ocean air. I left behind a community. On the seas we are just happy we aren’t the ones being hung by our necks. Back home Percy would have been hung for what he did to that poor boy. There is a sense of justice that everyone seems to leave on land.” The repercussions of such a hasty mutiny would be need to be addressed soon, but I still found myself only caring for my neck. It felt dirty knowing that my own thoughts were cowardice. I was weird knowing that if another man had expressed my own feelings to me I would have smacked him.

   Mackett’s voice cut through my thoughts like a saber. “I am going to need you two. Now.” It was then that I noticed the crew huddled on the deck. Nearly every sailor aboard the vessel was gathering around and speaking in voices that were quickly turning to shouts. Captain Percy’s removal from command left a power vacuum and men were already try to step in to fill the void. The scene looked like it was going to devolve quickly in to violence.

   Mackett climbed a pile of barrels from the deck. “If any man here deems himself to be Captain of this Naval vessel speak up!” His face contorted with his bellowing shout. The whole of the crew turned to him and eyed Williamson carefully as they did so. One person in the very back dared to raise a fist to the sky and a hush fell over the crew. Percy had not run his crew like a normal navy man; there was no real chain of command. There was Percy and then everyone else but the man who raised his fist was the closest thing to a second in command the vessel had. It was me.

   “I can think of a man who deserves the post.” My dull whisper carried far across the silent deck. It was a delicate moment but I knew it was pivotal in getting back to shore safely. “I vote that we now have ourselves a Captain Mackett.” A slight murmur crawled through the crowd towards Mackett. The decision was silently unanimous and it was binding in its implications. A loud clap came from the direction of Williamson followed by several others until the sound seeped through the crowd. Thus we have the origins of a sailing career for a fair and humble man that I had no doubt would ha
ve a blessed and happy ending.