Skull and Bones Read Online Free PDF

scratching the blotches on his face and barely hanging on to the tiller, he was so dizzy.
        "Bloody shambles," mumbled Povey. He looked across the anchorage in the dimming light, taking in the idly swirling boats and ships, and the voices everywhere raised in bickering argument. There was no wind in the anchorage, so the squadron was kedging out: each ship launching its best boat, a light anchor slung beneath, waiting until the smaller vessel had pulled ahead and dropped anchor before manning the capstan to haul on the anchor cable, thereby laboriously drawing the ship forward. Then up anchor and do it again! Then again and again till the sails should feel the wind of the open sea.
        The drill was simple. It was heavy work needing no unusual talent. The squadron should have been out of the anchorage and under way in a few hours. But they weren't. Everything had gone wrong: cables fouled, oar stroke lost, tempers gone and men falling exhausted at their duties who couldn't be roused, not even with a rope's end.
        It was the island fever. The enemy that they were trying to escape was already among them! Povey grinned stupidly, thick-headedly. It was just like those dreams where you were desperate to run but couldn't because your legs were made of lead. The fever was doing its utmost to keep them on the island.
        "Cast off hawser!" said Povey, and the hands made clumsy shift to loose the heavy rope by which the anchor was suspended beneath the boat. The boat wallowed heavily as the great load was shed, and the anchor went down to the bottom; they'd find it easily enough tomorrow by following the cable. "Back larboard, pull starboard!" said Povey, and the longboat turned in the water. "Give way!" he commanded, and they began pulling for their food and their grog, and a few hours' sleep. That should have cheered them up, but it didn't. Povey looked down the banks of oarsmen, most of whom were sweating heavily even though it was cool evening. Some - like the coxswain - were coming out in a rash.
    Bounder and Jumper were likewise recovering their boats and dropping their main anchors to moor for the night, as was the flagship. Povey sighed at the thought of all the heavy labour of weighing that would have to be performed again in the morning. But by this time they were bumping against the high oaken side of Oraclaesus and he was ordering "Toss Oars!" - the hands making a dog's breakfast of this simple command - and himself about to go first out of the boat and up the ship's side… when the officer of the watch leaned over the rail and called down to him.
        "Mr Povey!"
        "Aye-aye, sir?"
        "I'd be obliged if you'd take the longboat and bring aboard the person who is calling from the shore."
        "Sir? What person, sir?"
        The officer of the watch frowned. He was feeling unwell and in no mood for explanations. "Obey your bloody orders and be damned, Mr Povey - and don't answer back!"
        "Aye-aye, sir!"
        Povey sank down into the longboat, almost in tears. He'd not realised how tired he was and how much he wanted to be out of the boat and into his bed. The crew obviously felt the same. They were moaning and snivelling.
        "Oh, bloody-well-bugger the lot of you," said Povey. "And pull for the bloody shore."
        Once they came round the ship, which happened to be between the longboat and the beach, Povey could make out the dark little dot of a figure outlined against the white sands of the beach, and he could hear a wailing cry coming over the still water. He'd not noticed it before, not with so many others shouting and the sick nausea rising in his belly again.
    "Uuurgh!" Povey retched over the side, bringing up nothing and wrenching the muscles of his stomach. He dipped a hand in the water and splashed it over his face. The crew stared as they swayed to their oars. Some of them felt as bad as Povey.
        "What are you bloody sods looking at?" he