"Doctor Marshe!" Joseph burst into the doctor's quarters. "Doctor!"
Marshe looked up. "Yes? What is going on, Mr. Nagel?"
"It's Oakly, sir," Joseph said frantically, "he's hurt--there's something wrong with him."
Marshe threw on a coat and followed the carpenter down the dark corridor. When they reached the crew's quarters, Joseph led him to Oakly's hammock. Marshe held up a candle to the body and immediately checked his pulse. "He is dead," Marshe said softly. "There doesn't seem to be any external damage." He turned to Joseph. "He was flogged."
"Nearly four 'undred lashes, sir," Joseph added.
"And keelhauled."
Joseph nodded. "Not to mention the beating that Evans must've given him," he said without thinking.
Marshe stopped the stared at him. "Beating? Whatever do you mean?"
"Erm…well, what I meant was this," Joseph stuttered. He had never told anyone about Captain Evans caning him, not even the other crewmembers. He decided remaining silent would be better.
"Joseph, if you have something to say about Captain Evans, you had better say it," Marshe said with a twinge of impatience. Joseph said nothing, shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Come now, Mr. Nagel, speak up."
"I can't."
"You must," Marshe insisted.
Joseph shook his head. "We'd better tell the Captain about Oakly, sir." He started untying the strings of the hammock. "Could you get the other side, Doctor?"
Marshe nodded solemnly and slowly untied the strings. Within a few minutes, he went to summon the captain.
Joseph paced around the room, stepping carefully around Oakly's body. No external damage, he thought disbelievingly. "Evans killed 'im," he muttered. He couldn't believe it. Oakly's eyes were open, wide as ever. It was hard to look at, that corpse. "Oh, stop it, Oakly," he said, suddenly angry. "I didn't kill you!" He knelt down and covered his face with the hammock, and he stared at the bloodstains on the dirtied white fabric. "Jesus, Oakly…what did he do to you? What makes a man bleed from the inside?"
"I said throw him overboard!" Evans shouted in annoyed tones from down the corridor.
"What about a funeral," Marshe said desperately. "The Lord's Prayer!"
"What about them?" Evans questioned sharply.
Marshe looked taken aback. "Well, these are things you do for men who die at sea!" he whispered urgently, trying to keep his voice down.
They both stopped in front of the corpse and Evans shot back nastily, "No. Those are things done for honorable men--not filthy criminals." He suddenly turned to Joseph. "You--what are you doing here?"
"I--I found the body, sir," Joseph stammered. "The doctor and I--we cut him down in his hammock-like." He pointed.
"Fine," Evans sneered. "Now, I'm sure you'd like to return to your carousing."
"Sir." Joseph saluted to each of them and went back to the mess. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, so he found some of his friends and told them what had happened.
"So it was all internal, eh?" Burton asked. He motioned to his chest and stomach wearily. "Bleedin'…on the inside?" He shuddered.
"Probably from the cane," Richards spoke up.
"Eh?" Burton asked,
Joseph perked up and Richards laid his hands on the table. "You think these marks on me fingers are from tugging on ropes?"
"So he beat you too?" Joseph inquired.
"Evans beats us all," Richards said quietly. "When his lieutenants are looking the other way, he's flailing that cane around with the devil's spirit in his hand."
"This can't go on, boys," Joseph said at length. "He's killed one and nearly killed the other, and for what? A little fisticuffs?" He looked around at the steadily growing group of men surrounding him. "And we're all next. Who's to say Burton doesn't drop dead tomorrow? What's stopping him?"
"Me!" one of the younger boys said excitedly.
Joseph hard found his voice now, and he was anxious to rally the men. Evans had gone too far. "He took our lives!"
"And our rum!" Burton shouted.
"And we're not going to take it anymore!" Joseph finished with a yell from the crew.
"Not going to take what anymore, Mr. Nagel?" rang out Evans's cold voice.
"Get 'im!" Burton cried, and they all attacked.
Joseph hadn't even gotten near Evans before a marine grabbed him. It had not been a very successful mutiny, but if they'd had more time, Joseph thought, they could have pulled it off. He sat in the brig with many of his shipmates. They were being transferred to another ship under a new captain. Evans didn't trust them not to mutiny again and he didn't have the guts to have them all arrested. Apart from that, the other captain was in desperate need of more crewmen. He hugged his knees, resting his head on top of them, and only perked up at the sound of a young man's voice.
"Listen up. Captain Evans wants you all on deck immediately. I'm to escort you all to the HMS Surprise. Follow me, please."
Joseph got up and found that the young man was Peter Wells. "You again…sir." He followed Peter up onto the deck.
Peter smirked, "Well, I guess this is good-bye, Nagel. I shall miss you, of course."
"Right." Joseph replied sullenly. He waited for his turn as one by one, the Defenders boarded the Surprise.
"Joseph! Mr. Nagel! Wait!"
He turned and found Doctor Marshe racing towards him. He stepped aside, letting the other sailors pass. "Yes, Doctor?" He waited as Marshe caught his breath.
"Joseph, I…just wanted to let you know…that I'll miss you."
He stared at the doctor, confused. "Sir?"
"Good-bye," he said and threw his arms around the carpenter. He kissed both of Joseph's cheeks and then his lips. "Don't forget to write," he said quietly before tearing off.
Joseph blinked, completely befuddled, then got back into line. He trudged onto the Surprise with his gunnysack slung over his shoulder. There was a tall man standing on the deck beside Captain Evans. He was a bit heavy and he wore his hat sideways, something that was now uncommon. Evans appeared to be ranting to the other captain, gesticulating wildly as he said, "You've got to take them. I can't possibly handle these…these mutineers," he spat.
The other captain nodded solemnly and he said to one of his lieutenants, "That one," he looked straight at Joseph, "he led the mutiny, Mowett."
"Well, it wasn't quite a mutiny, sir," said Mowett.
"He's a good carpenter, though," the captain said thoughtfully, ignoring the young man. "I don't trust him, to be perfectly truthful, but…we'll see, I suppose."
"We certainly will, sir," Mowett replied. "Shall I get their names, sir?"
"Yes, Mr. Mowett, add their names to the ship's log." He stepped in front of the group of Defenders and announced in a loud voice, "I am Captain Aubrey and while you work on my ship, you will abide by my laws and the laws of the British Empire. Lieutenant Mowett will receive your names and your positions aboard the Defender. When you have given your name and rank, you will go to the berth deck where my lieutenants will brief you." Aubrey nodded meaningfully to the men and walked swiftly away.
"I'll take your names, please," Mowett said, rocking on the balls of his feet and looking pleased with himself. "Let's start with you."
"Amos Sheffield," a boy said. "Erm…able seaman."
"And you," Mowett said.
"Joseph Nagel, carpenter's mate," he said slowly.
"Jacob Burns, carpenter's mate," he coughed. Even after several weeks, he still had not recovered.
Mowett went on, taking all of their names, until all twenty-three had disappeared below deck.