Israel, Chapter 1

Sinner Boy, chapter 1 The schooner cut the azure waves with majestic ease, skimming over what it could not plow through. Agatha was of the finest stock of commerce on the sea, and it was said quite freely that she â??????could outrun the devil back tâ?????? hell.â?????? Only the sharks that hugged her stern could dare to compete with the slim vessel, and it was many a fine day when a ship-hand could look over the rail and see seas turned black by the obsidian backs of their parasitic cohorts. There was a macabre beauty to her lines, woven by her fearsome reputation for the carting of death, disease, and woeful souls. She was a slaver, commanded by the tycoon J Scott Wilhelms, who often took voyages on his own ships. The captain disdained him (behind his knotted, slouching back), and was loathe to allow an unsalted man to give him any order. Wilhelms had not built his business, rather he had been a shady inheritor, claiming the property of his eldest uncle before the high courts in Atlanta. He had allowed a gradual declination of his business, squandering his fortunes through various means of gambling and liberally un-English debauchery. Agatha was his last profitable vessel, her advantages in swift speed giving her the ripest fruits of Afrika. On this particular voyage, they had just left anchor from the wild heathen regions of Ghana on the Gold Coast, picking up a large shipment of umbers from an all too willing chief. He was an Akan man from the interior, a warrior whose motives centered on the domination of his neighbors. The easiest way to rule them was to send their strong ones with the abosom ghosts. Wilhelms hated these chieftans, often taking them into slavery along with their captured cargo. One chief had led a revolt on one of his ships, leaping on a below-deck patrol and strangling him with the iron chains that held him. They found a key on his person, and around four hundred children of vengeance stormed from the cargo hold. The chief led them to kill the captain and take the ship, but they were quickly overrun by a passing frigate. No slaves had ever suffered more than that fated four hundred on that day, and many say that it was that day that the sharks learned to follow the ships that smelled of rot and blood. After that day, J. Scott took to executing them outright. Though a pretentious buffoon, he was not exactly a fool, and his caution had saved him many a time, endangered though he was by fits of unprecedented recklessness. It had been on a voyage of one of his first and most valued vessels that this infamous reputation was ripened, and he had been in charge for only about nine months. Her name was Dana of Wilke, and she was the finest wave-prowler in his fleet at that time, bringing in record amounts of black gold in a most efficient period of time. Before, of course, J. Scott ran her on the rocks with the pompous cry of â??????run her straight, straight, even to the gates of the damned! Straight!â?????? She did go straight, and straight upon a jutting atoll, killing half the cargo in a breath of time likened to the snuffing of a candle. The rest drowned, and as they perched upon the daggers of rock, the bellowing wails were born upon the salty spray, as the tide rose around them in fitful bursts and plunges. Wilhelm never truly recovered of it, health and constancy ruined on a fated night of screams and the pallor of foaming, heaving death. He had the captain stripped of rank and flogged for gross dereliction. Wilhelm could never stay on a deck for long amounts of time after that, and any disdaining sailor could testify to the swift pall that climbed the cheek of the tycoon after five minutes upon the back of his finest, most sea-stable oaken beauty. He had not even bothered to come ashore on their last stop, putting not even the captain, but the first mate in charge of bartering with and then consequently flogging the native chief. The first mate, of course, was his second cousin. And so it was a nasty surprise to him when the captain stormed respectfully into his chamber, eyes aglow with respectful fury. â??????Sir, there has been a problem, and something we believe it is of interest for you to witness.â?????? The captain spat with barely concealed scorn, smiling with a benevolent indulgence upon the sickened lump in the bed before him. â??????Captain, must I help you with every odd problem on this damned vessel?â?????? Wilhelm groaned, sitting up, wiping his fingers groggily over his pale, murky eyes. â??????Nay sir, but there has been, a, ah, slight revolt with the cargo, sir. A boy-â?????? â??????A boy? Captain, do you stand before with your hat in your hands and tell me that a black child has managed to disturb the peace and order of my ship?â?????? â??????No, sir, not at all, sir. He merely, ah, struck his chains at the first mate. The, ah, problem is, the mate ran after him, trying to get a close shot with his piece. Needless to say, I tried to stop him, sir. A short scuffle ensued, and he, ah, somehow managed to fall off deck sir.â?????? â??????What? You have killed the most valuable member of this crew, captain, and I will doubtless hold you responsible,â?????? he wagged his head in sadness, a look of the utmost melancholy creeping unwillingly onto his face, â??????I have no choice, but toâ??????- As he was wringing his trembling hands with gleeful fervor, the captain cut in, â??????Sir, it was no fault of mine! It was truly the doing of the boy, you know how these soulful brutes can be! Too much spirit, I say. And either way, it would have been no harm done had not all these bloody sharks been following us.â?????? Accusatorily he glanced at Wilhelm, continuing, â??????And we are in the process of punishment now, sir. He is being heavily striped, and it will not stop until your order. If you would come up, then, sir?â?????? J. Scottâ??????s face twisted in self-conflict, as he was evidently torn by the promise of relishing the destruction of a least-favorite captain and the immediate pleasure of a good, thorough whipping. â??????Very well, captain, but do not think that this matter is ended with you.â?????? His paunchy cheeks began to drain of hue as they topped the deck, and he squinted at the unforgiving sun doubtfully. Before them was a scene of justice to the degree of the macabre, a tall, splintered and stained post jutting up from the deck, which was by then soaked in the salt of the sea and blood. Tied to the post, stomach to the rough wood, was a boy, a young child no older than twelve or thirteen. He was stripped to the waste, and he leaned pitifully against the tall post as his body, wracked in the pain of stinging leather, heaved with unnatural contractions. His eyes were closed, and his mouth was hanging half-open, as blood poured liberally from between his cracked lips. He had bitten his tongue in a withheld scream of agony. â??????Well, if one thing can be said for the brutes of the Afrikans, they make enduring men.â?????? A sallow-faced man laughed as he brandished the long leather snake, spraying men in blood as it whistled through the air, painting vermillion stripes in the rich umber of the boyâ??????s unprotected back. The whip whistled three more times, creating deeper gashes in what resembled a side of poorly preserved meat. A man with a long, brown face went up between the victim and oppressor, his eyes glinting feverishly in the noon-day sun. â??????Aye, Touvre, they do, and I think this oneâ??????s endured enough. Letâ??????s have mercy, now, eh?â?????? He pined in a deep quaking tone that spoke of times long past. Richer days, I think, when the pages of manâ??????s legacy were not yet stained with deepening red, and none had yet heard the primal screams of the innocent. Wilhelm was one who had before heard these air-staining cries, and like all of those attuned to the macabre, enjoyed the grinding of life beneath a well-polished boot. He strode up to the two, quizzically glancing at the long-face. â??????Mercy, you say? You would give this murderer mercy? Why my man it is laughable, and is near treason to the ideology of the superior man!â?????? He shook his head mournfully, welling up in his voice a pool of spoiled pathos, â??????Mercy , mercy, mercy! Weakness, I say, weakness!â?????? Here he walked to the boy and in a breathy whisper, rasped out the crown that capped his speech. â??????There is no mercy for sinners or slaves, boy,â?????? he turned to the subdued, blood-speckled crowd, â??????And this beast is both, lads! No mercy for the sinner or the slave!â?????? He turned to Touvre with reverent benevolence carved in the crags of his face, â??????Let him not have mercy, then. Give him fifteen more for whatever cry escapes his cursed lips. You know,â?????? he winked roguishly, â??????I have need of a new first mate.â??????