Privateer's Apprentice by Susan Verrico Page B

lap the pain,” Cook says. “At slaughtering time, me mum always saved the cow’s tongue for just that reason.” He pauses and mops at the trickles of blood that are dripping onto the deck. “Course, if you ain’t got a cow’s tongue, a wild boar’s tongue works second best.”
    He works slowly, probing with the tip of his knife around each bit of glass or clay until it is loosened and his fingers can grasp it. Every so often, he stops to wipe his fingers on my shirt and then he begins again. From time to time, the pain causes everything to go black, and I let the darkness take me.
    When Cook has removed all the glass and clay he can find, he reaches for the threaded needle.
    â€œClench your teeth, boy,” Peep says as he pinches the wound together for Cook to sew. I keep my eyes closed while he stitches me up, moaning softly when the needle jabs through the skin.
    When he finishes stitching, Cook turns his attention to my leg. He removes the eyeglass still in my pocket and hands it up to Solitaire Peep. With the tip of his knife, he slices the leg of my breeches up the middle and then rips apart the fabric so that my leg is exposed. He feels along the calf for breaks until he is satisfied there are none. Then he presses in hard with his thumb, stopping just below my knee. “The bone’s wiggled out of its holder,” he announces. Placing one hand upon my knee and the other hand on the calf, Cook gives a quick twist of his hands, as if he is wringing out a wet rag, and the bone settles into the joint with a loud pop. I feel a sharp pain, and then surprisingly nothing more than a dull ache.
    He hobbles to his feet. “The sun will dry out the wounds. Best he stays up on deck for the next few days.”
    â€œTake him below,” Solitaire Peep says.
    â€œThe sun will pull the poison from the wounds faster,” Cook argues.
    â€œMaybe, but the Spanish ship hovers like a hawk above a nest. If she attacks, the boy will be in the way.” He beckons to Jabbart. “Help Cook take him below. He’s no use to us today.”
    â€œHe’s no use to us any day,” Gunther mutters as Jabbart and Cook carry me past him to the hatch.
    Left alone in storage, I drop into a deep sleep. When I awake, I am unsure of how much time has passed. Night has fallen and has brought with it a full moon that casts deep shadows into the storage room. Rising up from my pallet, I slump against the wall and run my hand lightly over my leg, wincing when I feel around my knee. My arm hangs free from my shirtsleeve, and in the dusky light I see blood oozing from my wounds. I count six stitches and wonder that it’s not more. My arm burns as if someone has poured hot pitch over it, and I cannot lift it above my chest.
    I think back to the moment I fell into the water, and myface grows warm with shame.
Can I do nothing right
? Had the Captain not jumped in to save me, I would have drowned or been torn to pieces by the sharks. The Captain risked his life to save me. I close my eyes and am still thinking about that when I lie back on my pallet and drift off to sleep.

    The clanging of the ship’s bell and the sound of steps thudding overhead startle me awake. I lie still for a moment, disoriented in the darkness. Again the bell rings, the noise muted by the ship’s thick-planked floors. On the fourth clang, I bolt upright and hold my breath. Three clangs of the bell calls a storm and four warns of a fire or the taking on of water. Five bells signal the approach of an enemy ship.
    As the fifth bell sounds, footsteps thud above on deck. My heart begins to pound. “It is only the Spanish ship turning in the water,” I murmur. “Nothing to fret about.” But an eerie silence has invaded the ship, and I know the crew has taken to their posts. Solitaire Peep has led us in enemy-sighting drills from time to time, and the routine was always the same. It is easy to