Free Flint and Silver by John Drake Page A

physical presence. Selena crushed the impulse to run because there was nowhere to go. Instead, she stood her ground.
        "I said, I am not a whore!" she cried, with all the force in her body, but she was seized by two powerful hands and hoist up off her feet, her eyes level with his.
        "Well then, madam," said Long John, glancing at the gold pieces, "just what is the price, then?" He grinned. "And don't I get a little something for what I already laid down?"
        He tried to kiss her lips, but she turned her face away. He ran his tongue all over and around the silky black column of her throat. She stayed rigidly still. He gave up. He set her down. He was puzzled and annoyed.
        "Beach and burn me, girl!" said Silver. "Just how much d'you expect? You're a rare fine shaped 'un, I'll grant you that, but this ain't Paris nor London, and you ain't King George's mistress!"
        "I told you. I'm not a whore!"
        "Oh yes you are!"
        "Oh no I'm not!"
        "No?"
        "No!"
        "You bitch!"
        "You bastard!"
        "Whore!"
       "I AM NOT A WHORE!"
         In his anger and balked desire, Silver swung back his hand. But when it came to it, he couldn't bring himself to strike the small, helpless figure. So he sighed and growled and cursed. And then, eventually, and very late in the day, it occurred to him that it just might be a good idea to pay some attention to what she'd been saying.
        "Are you really not a whore?" he said.
        "Are you deaf!"
        "But all Charley's girls are."
         "EXCEPT ME!"
          "Oh… well… I…"
        He fumbled for words. He was a stranger to the art of apologising and no words came. Instead a heavy guilt fell upon him: the guilt that sits on a man who knows he's behaved very badly. Beyond that, as he looked at Selena, a tiny barb had been driven into Long John Silver, and it smarted. For a long time he didn't even recognise what was happening, because he'd not had such feelings for years.
        He picked up his clothes and his money and left, slamming the door thunderously behind him. And later, when he encountered Polly Porter, who'd gone out for a breath of air while Billy Bones was asleep, and she - ever open for business - welcomed him with open arms, he couldn't bring himself to do it. There was no joy in a sweating copulation with a fat tart when his mind was full of the small, lovely, black figure staring back at him with fierce determination.
        When Long John was gone, Selena was seized with a terrible shaking. She'd kept herself bold and calm while danger threatened and, now that it was gone, her legs shook and her teeth chattered, and there were tears too. There was a great quantity of these. She was very young and entirely alone and the world was a very hard place.
----
        

Chapter 8
        
    20th February 1749
    The island
        
        Billy Bones trod heavily across the sand, making his way towards the marine sentry on guard at the latrine trench.
        It was night but there was a bright moon and the marine recognised Mr Bones easily by the hulking shoulders and the blue officer's coat with its rows of shiny buttons. Also there was a heavy 'Pfff! Pfff! Pfff!' of exhaled breath in time with the laboured footfalls, which was unique to Mr Bones. It was his unconscious and wordless protest at the need to struggle over soft sand in a hot climate.
        The wretched marine drew himself to attention and reviewed all those little sins of omission and commission in the doing of his duties of which private soldiers can be found guilty by any superior officer who has a mind to do so.
        It was bad enough being stuck out here by a stinking bog- pit to make sure that the bastard matelots shovelled sand over their shit when they'd shat, but it weren't fair - not at all - for Mr bastard Billy Bones to come out to check that all was to rights. It was usually one of the mids, and