Quintspinner Read Free Page B

slow and even. The lantern hovered close, just above his face. A booted foot thudded him forcefully in his mid thigh. William did not move.
    “Get this one loose and movin’ about, ‘afore he shits himself, too,” a gravelly voice commanded.
    “Yessir!”
    More voices. Younger than the gravelly one, William guessed. He strained his memory to recognize any of them as belonging to any of the merchants that his father had done business with. He could not place a single one.
    William felt hands grab him and haul him to his feet. At least he thought he was standing on them. His feet were really too numb to tell. With eyes wide open now, he saw the glint of metal in the lantern light, as a dagger blade flashed in front of his face. With one quick slash from his captor, his wrists were cut free, and with a second, his feet.
    “What’s yer name, lad?” the gravelly voice asked. William tried to speak but his tongue felt furry and thick.
    “Answer me now, piss-pants,” Gravelly Voice commanded, “or I’ll flog it outta’ ya’!”
    William was suddenly aware of a cool wetness in the crotch of his trousers. The pungent smell of urine rose above the cornucopia of so many other strange smells. For a moment his fear was squelched by a stab of hot shame in the realization that he had indeed pissed himself.
    He licked his dry lips and croaked, “William.”
    “William, eh? That’s a fine name fer a tar. Welcome aboard the HMS Argus, Piss-Pants William. Follow Mr. Smith, here. “He’ll get you something to eat and show you to yer work station and yer hammock, in that order. Yer duties start this evenin’ before tomorrow’s first light. Mr. Smith, Piss-Pants William is yer charge fer today. We’re doin’ one on one fer all the new recruits in case they get any frisky ideas.
    “Wait! Duties? I don’t understand–” William began to protest, but Gravelly Voice had moved on, kicking at the next unfortunate body lying in bondage a few feet away.
    Smith tugged at William’s sleeve. “C’mon,” he said quietly, “Ya’ wanna’ eat or not?” William stared at the one called Mr. Smith. Brown eyes stared back at him from a face that was laced with a network of fine scars over high cheekbones and forehead. The boy’s hair appeared to be a coppery brown in the dim light of the lanterns; it was tied back in a braided plait that reached just past his thin shoulders. Smith was a head taller and appeared to be somewhat older. William guessed Smith was probably around John’s age–Johnny! His mind filled with an unspeakable sorrow. He pushed the ache aside, trying to make sense of this living nightmare.
    “Wha–what is this place? I don’t understand what’s happened–”
    Smith turned and looked at him. “How old are ya’ anyway?” He peered closer. William could see a faint scar running across Smith’s cheek from his ear to the corner of his mouth. “You’ve not even many whiskers, do ya’?”
    Pride forced the truth from William. “I’m sixteen. Nearly seventeen.”
    “Sixteen? Hah!” Smith snorted, “Not a boy anymore, but a helluva’ long ways out from being the eighteen that the friggin’ Navy Proclamation states we must be before volunteerin’….”
    The Navy? What the hell? “But I didn’t volunteer!” William protested, “I–”
    “Ya’ did as far as the Navy’s concerned.”
    “But I didn’t! I’m not doing this!” William hissed, “I’ll leave–”
    The sting of Smith’s sharp slap across William’s mouth caught him in mid sentence. “See here, now,” Smith whispered menacingly, “there is no leavin’ this hell hole, ‘cept overboard in a tarp with a stitch through yer nose. Ya’ hear? Leaving alive is not a choice ya’ have. We’re already near a day out to sea.”
    William took in this new information in stunned silence. Feeling was beginning to return to his feet and he stumbled painfully along as though walking in oversize wooden clogs.
    So I’m on a ship! And in