Chapter 11: John Silver; the Product of His Dealings with Pirates
"John," Doctor Welling addressed with lethargy, rising to a stand from his seat when he noticed John had appeared at the doorway, "Come sit down with us."
The child Ursid remained standing dubiously scowling in the threshold, watching the Doctor in front of the small faded couch that slumped next to the chair Barak sat in, which seemed to struggle against the weight of the great man, but nevertheless seemed to beam for the same presence. Barak was adorned with his fabulous coat—as he was always when John would see him during his errands for him before his father's death—with the thick golden buttons lining the front that fell down to his knees; and a very fine laced hat that was set on the back of his bald head.
Welling reassumed his position on the couch. "I would suggest," he coaxed John again, lifting his head, "you might want to sit down. Do you know this man?"
John again did not comply with Welling's bidding, but he did part his lips to answer, eyeing Barak in his tremendous chair, "Yes, sir. I know the man. He was my employer at the docks before my arrival here."
Barak's ample face was suddenly red with congeniality, and was smartly highlighted by his yellow grin of teeth that beamed toward John in a most kindly manner. "And who's missed 'is lil' helper tragically, to be sure!" He declared with hyperbolic mirth to Welling, gesturing with a wave of one arm as if to present the measurement of his sorrow at John's absence. "This 'un's a right good young man o' fortune, and you may lay to it! I know a good young space-man when I sees 'im, I do, sir. Ask any man about 'ere—I dare ye—an' 'eel tell ye I've an eye for fine young space-men, an' I seen it in th' lad with one wink o' my blessed deadlights!"
Welling, in an almost piqued manner, sat up straight at Barak's comment, and bent forward as though he intended to lean down over the spacer. "As much of a man of fortune as John might be," Welling responded with a thin tone, "if you've anything else to say, I think you had better say it, else you shall be asked to continue on with your own affairs."
"Right ye is, sir, o' course; o' course—ye is obv'ously a busy man who expects concise business transactions! I'm a concise man, meself, so help me," Barak chuckled amiably, constantly speaking to Welling; never once drifting his sight to John standing in the threshold. John shifted his weight, surprised at himself that he did not fear Barak's sudden emergence, nor did he even wonder at it. He listened attentively, his eyes lowered watchfully in Barak's direction, and he allowed himself to lean carefully against the wall.
"Oh, you've come on business, have you?" Welling rejoined with raised eyebrows, seeming to lean even closer in on Barak, "and what business would that be?"
Barak erected himself with complete dignity and, after throwing forth both hands and straightening the cuffs of his great coat, he answered decorously, "I've come t' collect whot I feel's mine."
John guessed the truth with an explosion in his ear before Welling inquired upon what it was that Barak considered was his to collect.
"That precious lil' boy ye have standin' there is my errand boy, sir, by thunder, and my ship sails at three bells tomorrow," Barak stated. He, in turn, leaned forward now as if to challenge Welling with a determined look of concern rippling on the brow of his great forehead, "Am I t' leave my precious lil' errand boy 'ere on this mis'rable planet, t' let 'im starve and suffer without my goldspecies he needs t' eat with, and t' buy 'is clothes with? No, says ye—I trow not! I'm a man o' dooty, who believes in lettin' boys live t' their manhood, and I'll be th' son o' va Flatulan t' leave 'im without any wages! Would ye not do th' same in my place, sir?"
With his wrists upon his knees and his fingertips touching, Welling stared stoically at the brown pirate as he declared these last words. John folded his arms uneasily in the doorframe, and threw his eyes from one man to the other, having for the first time heard Barak speak of the value his employment represented to him, and slightly doubted the integrity of the words, and also of the motives the man presented. He was, nevertheless, impressed with the theory of joining Barak into space as an errand boy and he bit down on his bottom lip, looking at Doctor Welling in order to see his reaction.
John saw Doctor Welling glance at him through the corners of his spectacles, and as he did so, his head moved enough to make the lenses jump with a white light, and then back to the frame around his gentle green eyes. John initially understood this glance to signify his irritation that the boy had still failed to sit, but it occurred to him that the Doctor's irritation was not effectuated by his own offense. John shifted his weight again and placed his shoulder blade against the frame he leaned against, watching the Doctor as he made his response, and he guessed apathetically that Welling was not as impressed with John embarking onto a ship with a man he barely knew.
"John will not perish, as you have insinuated, upon your dispersal," Welling reproved slowly. "I can manifest the fact, if you would agree to cooperate with me…"
Barak interrupted, lifting a rotund finger. "I trow not, by thunder," he continued industriously, as though his audience had concurred his assertion. "Th' boy made an agreemint with me that he should serve me for wages! Have I no right t' feel I've a cert'in allowance t' take 'im with me, such as the like? Where'll he go if he don't go with me?"
"He shall remain here, in the company of good health," answered Welling readily. Barak seemed to not have heard him, for he continued adamantly.
"He'll have no place to go, sir, and ye may lay to it! And I'll be th' son of a Flatulan t' leave a poor boy 'ere without no home."
Welling sat back again, moving his hand up and down his white face. John's head fell forward slightly as he took this opportunity to meticulously observe Barak in his chair, who was forcing himself his success despite whether or not the opposing side presented better arguments. Barak's skin was very coarse and sun burnt many times over, and his face was wrinkled not from age, but from cruel environments and the black-hearted Etherium. His eyes were small and sank well into his commanding face, and they both seemed to dance with an alarming magnetism, which was both of interest and of mysterious concern. His coat enveloped him, as large a man as he was, but John was vigilant enough to notice the butt of a fine silver-mounted pistol in the inner breast pocket of it, and he conjectured that there was an equally fine silver sword that was strapped about Barak's broad waist.
This lead John's imagination to wonder at the estimation of the number of men whose backs had been penetrated by its blade, or by the pistol's bullets. John then found himself amused by the idea that Barak would not kill an enemy face to face, but attacked at the back to ensure himself victory. With a morbid fancy, John pursued the idea as he envisioned an environment of any kind in which the act was done; a hundred times over Barak slashed at his enemy with his sword in a jungle, or a cave, or suspended freely in the Etherium—the most dangerous, John assumed—and enjoyed the eventful and changing prospects.
Welling's face surfaced from the palm of his hand that had been massaging it and he leaned forward again toward Barak, who increased his own incline toward the doctor in return, and for a while the two sat facing one another in such a manner, as though the final war was begun.
"Are you convinced to take John with you?" Welling inquired, suddenly, with such a quick movement of his mouth John scarcely saw him ask it.
"Like iron, t' be sure."
"And nothing, short of an order from the Queen, will stand in your way?"
"Let even th' Queen try, by thunder!"
Welling sat back at last, consenting. "Then I shall say this—and only this—and you will not speak to me nor I to you ever again. I am in as much legal possession of your chattel as you yourself are, my good sir, and so the two of us arguing about where he goes or where he should stay is neither of our final responsibilities. John Silver, there, in the doorframe is a boy of valor and character, who is just as capable of making his own decisions as you or I am. Now, sir, if you are determined to take John with you on your impending voyage, you must request permission from he whom you plan to take. You shall not succeed with me; my conviction for him to remain here is as strong as yours to take him, but if you ask it of him, and he agrees to leave with you on your ship as your servant, then I can do nothing more than to help him prepare, and swallow my pill."
A silence resounded inside John's ears as the doctor finished. John's brow knitted with uncertainty as Barak grandly nodded once in Welling's direction and he turned in his chair to face John with both his sunken eyes. John's heart fluttered as Barak sat back in half astonishment, muttering a begrudged, "like enough…" and then asked him if he wanted to come with him on his voyage, and continue being his errand boy and getting lots of money for it.
John remembered what he had stated to Abigail in the gardens. He had told her that he would leave and become as rich as any man ever had. He wondered suddenly if he had believed himself when he said it, or if he said it just to assuage the guilt he still carried for his father. He considered the fact that he did not need to leave to continue to earn money; that employment would always be at the docks when he needed it, and that he could live with Doctor Welling until he owned enough money and a satisfactory job. He also considered, however, that employment anywhere in his town was terribly low-paying, and that his chances of becoming rich were minor. John then suddenly lighted upon the thought that, even if he had failed at making his father happy, Jonas's second wish would be for John to be happy, and the decision was made.
"Bless me, but ye is a fine young gentleman o' fortune!" Barak responded expansively when John answered him affirmatively. "He know with whom t' swing, he do—Davy Jones's Locker is a better place t' sink to, it is, than sinkin' into the peasantry of humankind!"
Doctor Welling had been watching John with an expression of lost fortitude, but when John agreed to go to the Etherium with the pirate, Welling's brow fell, his eyes closed, and the color left his cheeks, leaving him waxen and looking like a very old man. He did, however, recover his color quickly, and he rose to stand before the couch, pulling his pipe out and lighting it as John and Barak inadvertently looked on. After shaking the match out and sighing forth a first inhalation of smoke, he turned slightly and looked at John through the lenses of his glasses.
"If I may make a final entreaty," Welling said to Barak, "I'd like for John to spend the night here so he can get ready for the voyage tomorrow. It would also behoove you, my good sir, to give your word to me and your new travel partner that you will allow John to break your contract whenever he wishes, and when he might do so, you should also promise me and the boy that you will release him safely in an inhabited civilization of Her Majesty's planets with proper necessities. Have I your word?"
"Ye have me word on me honor as a gentleman o' fortune!" affirmed the buccaneer boisterously, with a broad wave of his hand and a reassuring smile.
"Very good," resumed the doctor, very quietly, and, after pulling a second inhalation from his pipe, he proceeded from the couch and passed John, to whom he nodded and said, "All right, John. You may go to your room now if you'd like."
Welling's exit left John and Barak in the room alone.
Barak was reverent. "A fine bunch o' people who be livin' here, to be sure!" he thundered to himself as he rose from his own seat, "a fine bunch o' people indeed…. And a fine young gentleman with whom I sail along side of tomorrow!" Barak approached John and slammed a hand on his shoulder, and, pointing a finger at him, the pirate observed in a low voice, "ye'll make one pretty spacer, mark me words, boy. A right pretty spacer! Stories'll be told of ye even after yer long dead, and I'd bet my ol' deadlights upon it!"
John raised his eyebrows, and grinned at this. "You think so?"
Barak shook his head with benevolent excitement, as if the question was one of great stupidity. "Aye, that ye will, boy! That ye will! We should get along well, you and me, John, 'cause yer as smart as paint—I seed it when I first saw ye. Just remember t' behave yerself, an' stay outta' trouble, and you'll be a right pretty spacer, or, Lord help me, I'll be a rum-puncheon!"
Doctor Welling helped John collect his accoutrements in silence, however offering articles of necessity from his own belongings until he was satisfied with John's assortment of assets.
John's furnishings were modest; they were collected in a little bundle of cloth, which was then to be placed on the end of a thin staff in order to ease its mobility. They consisted of clothes—ones which Welling was very unhappy with, as most of them were his and were too big—handkerchiefs, money pieces Welling insisted upon as an alternative if Barak did not fulfill his promises to let John leave him whenever he desired; two books, one of fiction and the other of sea travel, which told of poisons and elixirs that could be encountered on a ship; a Bible, and a handful of candy—which Welling chuckled at as he presented them to John, remembering the candy he would bring to him when he was younger.
When this was done, Doctor Welling smoothed the material on his thighs as he found a comfortable seat on the bed next to John's valise, with a very long, serious upper lip. After a pause, he motioned kindly for John to accompany him there, to which John obeyed, and when he did so, Welling removed his glasses and began to speak to him gravely.
He first put John on his guard for certain apostasies; ones John had no temptation in committing beforehand, and then urged upon the dangers the Etherium represented, and then begged John to act with caution upon its waves. That done, Welling replaced his glasses on the end of his nose as he regarded John in a quiet and somber manner, and said, "Your father would be proud of you. He wanted very much to see you set out upon your own in the world. He was very positive you would succeed."
John swallowed. His eyes traced the stitch work in the bedclothes on which they sat, musing over how his father would have sent him on his way when he was old enough; how he would not have treated him as a son or a child but as a man who had a place in the severity of life. His hand would rest on his shoulder as he spoke his final words of advice, and he would tell him he believed in him and his future correspondences, and jokingly tell him to remember his old father during holidays as they bid farewell.
"As you will," Welling was saying, "my conscience firmly compels me to improve this parting, and so I would like you to tell me of anything you can think of that you might require, which you haven't already. Is there anything else that you might need, John?"
John considered asking him if he might tell him to remember him during holidays, but instead he simply shook his head, his eyes still fixated on the bedclothes.
"Very well," the doctor sighed, rising from the bed as if to depart, feeling his work was done. John rose to follow him, without thinking, and he followed Welling to the threshold of the birth-and-death room door. Welling glanced at him and smiled, stopped, and, after looking at him, slowly gathered John's shoulders in his arms and embraced him very hard, with his palm clasped on the back of John's head. John was then brought out in front of him at arms' length, and remained there as he dispersed out the door and into the hall.