Scarface by Andre Norton Page B

Black Man himself trod on his narrow heels and after him came Cheap. He crooked his finger to the nearest of the crew and gave an order.
    They did not even wait to untie the ropes which held Scarface but slashed them through and jerked the boy to his feet, forcing him forward to the base of the foremast. There his wrists were made fast above his head and his shirt went flapping in pieces from his guards’ hands.
    It was the waiting which was the hardest—or so he now thought. He must strain to touch his feet to the planking and a cool breeze offshore wrapped around his naked flesh. He heard a hail from the water line. Then, behind his back, they ushered aboard those for whom they had been waiting —the officers and merchants of Barbados—well in time for Cheap's entertainment.
    Even then Scarface might have called out a warning. But when he half turned his head to catch sight of the new-comers, he saw Patawamie on guard and in the Indian's hands was a long dirk. It seemed that Cheap had thought of that possibility too.
    â€œHa, Captain, what have we here, what have we here?” puffed a husky voice.
    â€œA case of discipline, sir. This dog has attempted mutinyand we have good reason to believe that he is a spy sent out by Tortuga.” That was Cheap giving answer—all cool virtue shaming vice.
    â€œA pirate!” The recoil in his questioner's voice was sharp.
    â€œSo he may be. But in any case he is a mutineer, daring to raise his hand against my sailing master. We are about to lesson him now in better manners.”
    â€œStruck your master—! Indeed the rogue must be out of his wits. You do well, Captain, to send him back into them thus. Very commendable—it would be well for others to take profit from your example—”
    â€œIt would indeed,” Cheap chuckled. “These dogs must learn who is master. You, Peter, get to your work. Count me his ribs now!”
    Scarface braced himself, but that stab of fire which curled about him made him hiss. Then another was laid crosswise of the first. His teeth met hard in his soft underlip and he tasted blood. But he would not cry out—he would not! At least as long as he could control his shrinking body.
    He lost count at last and no longer stood with toes on the planking, but hung, his weight upon his pinioned wrists. And a red mist of pain shut him away from all else in the world. It must have been a minute or two before he realized that stripes no longer cut him in two. Instead there was a hot argument going on outside his mist wall and Cheap's voice, for once raised above its usual calm pitch, came through to him.
    â€œHe is a mutineer and as such is subject to my hand!”
    â€œYou have said, Captain”—that voice was equally heated —"that he is also suspected of trafficking with pirates. Ifthat be true he must be questioned so that what he knows can be used against those of his kind. In the Queen's Name I demand that he be given to us to be held for Sir Robert's pleasure.”
    â€œIt is only rumored that he is a pirate—he has not said so. But he is a proven mutineer. And besides you would learn nothing from him; he has a stubborn tongue.”
    â€œSo have had other men until their meeting with Sir Robert. His Excellency has a swift and gainful way with such gentry. But a dead man cannot talk and if this goes on, he will be dead. You hold a commission as a privateer from the Queen's officers—and under that commission are you subject to regulations. You should know that all information concerning the enemy and his dealings must be shared. Therefore, deliver this prisoner to us for questioning.”
    Scarface drew his first full lungfuls since he had been trussed up. For once had Cheap been too clever? Had the Captain claimed to be dealing with mutiny only, none would have questioned the flogging. But instead he had spoken of piracy and that hint had reached the ears of some officer who