[Flying Dutchman 01] - Castaways of the Flying Dutchman Read Online Free PDF Page B

all hands now. Jump to it!”
    There was an almighty scramble as Petros and others who had side cabins came stumbling in. An awful silence fell on the crew—they quailed under their captain’s icy glare. Ramming the stiletto into his belt, he seized Jamil and Sindh, hauling them up by their hair and bellowing at them.
    â€œWho else was in this with you? Tell me or I’ll throw you to the fishes, like I did with that villain Scraggs!”
    Jamil clasped his hands together and wept openly. “There was only us two, Kapitan. Scraggs made us do it. We were afraid of him. He said he’d kill us if we didn’t!”
    Sindh joined him, tears running down the blue scar channel in his face, pleading for his life.
    â€œHe speaks the truth, Kapitan. We didn’t know Scraggs meant to kill you. We thought he was just going to steal the green stone. Spare us, please, we meant you no real harm!”
    Ignoring their sniveling pleas, Vanderdecken beckoned to a burly German crewman. “Vogel, you are first mate now aboard my ship and will be paid as such. Make two hanging nooses and throw them over the mid-crosstrees. These criminals must pay for what they did.”
    Vogel saluted but did not move. He spoke hesitantly. “Kapitan, if you execute them, it will leave us three hands short. No ship of this size could round Cape Horn with three experienced seamen missing.”
    There was silence, then the captain nodded. “You are right, Mr. Vogel. See they only get half-rations of biscuit and water until we make harbor. They will be tried and hanged by a maritime court when we get back to Copenhagen. When they are not on duty, see they are shackled in the chain locker. Is that clear, Mr. Vogel?”
    The new mate saluted. “Aye, Kapitan!” He turned to Neb. “Half-rations of biscuits and water for the rest of the trip, d’you hear that, cook?”
    As Neb nodded obediently, Vanderdecken turned his quizzical gaze on the boy. “This lad is the cook? How so?”
    Petros nursed his damaged hand, whimpering. “Kapitan, my hand is bad hurt. I could not cook with one hand.”
    He tried to shrink away, but Vanderdecken grabbed Petros by the throat. He shook him as a terrier would a rat, the Greek’s terror-stricken eyes locked by the Dutchman’s icy glare. The captain’s voice dropped to a warning rasp. “I signed you aboard as cook, you useless lump of blubber. Now, get to your galley and cook, or I’ll roast you over your own stove!”
    He hurled the unfortunate Petros bodily from the cabin. There was danger in Vanderdecken’s voice as he turned on the rest of his crew. “Every man does as I say on this vessel. Nobody will disobey my orders. Understood?”
    Averting their eyes from his piercing stare, they mumbled a cowed reply. “Aye aye, Cap’n.”
    Neb trembled as the captain’s finger singled him out. “You, come here. Bring the dog, stand beside me!”
    Neb obeyed with alacrity, Den following dutifully alongside him. There was silence, and Vanderdecken’s eyes roamed back and forth beneath hooded brows—each crewman felt their fearful authority. “This boy and his dog, they will watch my back wherever I go. They will stay in my cabin, guarding me from now on.
    â€œVogel, take the wheel, put out a new watch. When we pass the Land’s End light, take her south and one point west, bound for Cape Verde Isles and out into the Atlantic. We’ll take this ship ’round Cape Horn and up to Valparaiso in record time.
    â€œThe Horn, Vogel, Tierra del Fuego! The roughest seas on earth! Many a vessel has been smashed to splinters by waves, storm, and rocks there. Seamen’s bones litter the coast. But by thunder, I intend to make it in one piece. The rest of you, as master of the Flying Dutchman, I’ll tolerate no slacking, disobedience, or backsliding. I’ll see the white of your rib bones