In the last part Ben ministered to a crewman and learned that he came to be shanghaied mostly due to San Francisco corruption. Ben brought attention to a likely pirate ship and was rewarded by crow’s nest duty. He declined a perfect opportunity to escape to his freedom.

“Ben?” It was another sailor that Ben recognized, but did not know his name.

Reaching the crow’s nest, the sailor began speaking. “Ben. I’m your relief. You make it down all right? I know you aren’t used to the ratlines and mast pegs, an’ you're prob’ly all stoved up, up here all night. Some of ‘em ‘spected you’d fall, miss yer grip, or fall asleep. The Cap’n, he left you up here thinkin’ you’d save his ship. The rest of us, we figure you saved our lives.”

Ben smiled at him. “What’s your name?”

“Winchell. But call me Slop. Don’t ask why. Somebody started it seven, eight year ago. I never did know why. It just stuck.”

“Slop, it is. Thank you, but I’ll make it. Thank you.”

“What you said true?”

Ben had no idea what Slop referred to, but guessed it was a sermon. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Slop.”

“I know you wouldn’t, but what I mean is … about everybody, the whoever part?”

“Slop, he who has ears to hear is even more than whoever. It especially means you.”

Slop’s eyes danced across Ben’s, skitting as if afraid to land.

“They’ll be wonderin’ what’s keepin’ you. ‘Fraid for you.”

“Slop, you keep a sharp eye out, but you can talk to Jesus at the same time. Just tell him about yourself, and that you would like to meet him. Tell him I sent you.”

Ben knew that Slop would reach into his sordid past, confessing his sins. He also knew that mentioning his name, Slop would be likely to approach the throne with greater confidence, with greater faith.

Ben flitted down as would a seasoned professional, receiving accepting nods from the sailors watching for him.

Sly clapped him on the back and spoke to him as an equal. “They be sittin’ ta the west, watchin’ fer us, wond’rin’ where we disappeared to. Hah! Saved us from a fight, ye did. Go tell ‘em ta feed jee an’ then git forty winks.”

+++

 “Up with ye! Cap’n ta see ye! Up wit chee! Sharp like!” Sly had lost his previous friendliness.

Ben hopped from his perch, gathering himself.

“Fore spar snapped, mizzen-mast sail torn’t in twain, ‘n the rudder – like a shark bit it whole! Cap'n’s quarters! Sharp now!”

Ben did as bidden.

The captain repeated Sly’s register of ills that befell the Superbia since Ben went to sleep. “How could that be?” he asked Ben.

“Captain, don’t these things happen in the trade?”

“I’ll not have your insolence! You gave God glory for our escape. He now owns blame for our doom!”

“Captain, aren’t these all repairable?”

“I’ll have you whipped. Now you get your God to steer that pirate another way. Or break him down. He can break us, he can surely sink him! An hour and you’ll be tasting steel. That is if you aren’t blown up with his cannon.”

Ben thought a moment.

“My reckoning, is that all you’ve done is to get us far enough to sea that we can’t swim to shore, those of us not horn-swoggled.” The captain's bouncing from foot to foot, out of sync with the ship's sway was disarming.

Ben was momentarily confused, believing that to be horn-swoggled was to be tricked, or deceived. The captain obviously meant something worse. “Might be the devil has a hand in trying to bring you ill, not the Lord’s work at all,” Ben said.

“Yeah, well you tell your God to be doing his fighting with the devil on his own ship. Not mine! I’ll be having a prayer to straighten this out. Get to it, or get ready for the whip. I’ll have the pleasure of seeing your back peeled before I’m keel-hauled. Deep six ya, after. Tell me, will that break the curse?”

“Captain, I’m happy to pray, but your prayer will likely have more impact. Do you believe in God, in his son Jesus?”

The captain backhanded Ben across his jaw, breaking the skin of his cheek and lips against his teeth.

Ben offered his other cheek, locking his gaze into the captain’s eyes.

“Sly!” the captain screamed.

Instantly, Sly opened the door and entered.

“Forty lashes. And if you hold back, it’ll be you!”

Roughly enough to satisfy the captain, Sly yanked Ben to the deck before the same mast Ben had climbed and descended scant hours earlier.  The ship quartermaster handed Sly his whip.

As Sly reared back, Jimmy scampered behind Ben, wrapping himself around his back. “I’ll take one of them!” he yelled. Sly obliged.

“Ahhheeeahhhgg!” Jimmy screamed in agony. Gurgling incomprehensibly, his tightening grip around Ben told Sly to give him another.
Sly did, crumpling Jimmy to the deck.

Before Sly could do, or say, a thing, Andy dragged Jimmy out of the way, taking his place. “I’ll have two a’ them,” he said.

Again, Sly obliged.

The captain watched, at first somewhat amused, though chagrinned that Ben wasn’t getting the whipping. When Andy jumped in for two of the whips, the captain looked around at the crew’s faces. He didn’t like what he saw.

“I’ll have two of those,” Hans said, pulling off his shirt. To a man, the entire crew began removing shirts, prepared to take Ben’s whipping.

Seeing the captain spin about toward his cabin, Sly waved toward Ben, muttering, “Untie him.” Louder, he began issuing orders designed to speed their repair and possible escape from the gaining pirates.

+++

“Captain, I agreed that something is at play.” Ben had opened the captain’s door, though he had not entered. “God does not bring calamity to his children, though the winds of evil may befoul them as the unsaved alongside. “Captain, is there a reason that the evil one might make sport of you?” Ben had no idea why he used language and expression foreign to his normal style. “Have you played Satan’s game intending to offer him the back of your hand? Has he dues to collect?”

After a moment’s pause, Ben asked again, “Do you believe in …”

Cutting him off, the captain screamed, spittle spewing from his mouth, “I believe in gold! And you can have all that you can carry in the dinghy if you’ll get off my ship and take your devil and your pirates with you!”

“Captain, there is but one way to save yourself, and your …”

“I’ll see you in irons! I’ll see you on the plank! I’ll see you … You can take your God and his devils like you and …” The captain grabbed at his throat as if being choked. Ben remained at the doorway, both arms extended toward the captain, his palms extended as if warding off a charge.

“Your words have convicted you. Who owns the Superbia, Captain?”

Turning crimson, his cheeks swelling as spittle began to foam, he continued to grasp at his throat. Ben followed his eyes to top shelf of a large desk secured to the bulkhead.

The captain staggered backward toward his narrow bed, falling onto it. Ben strode to him, helping him onto his back once on the bed. Ben left him to stare at the ceiling in a trance-like stupor. After lowering his hands from his neck to his chest. He looked at enough documents where the captain had indicated to learn that the ship’s home port was the San Pedro harbor in California. Ben sought out Sly.

“Set sail for San Pedro,” Ben said. “With the wind you can maneuver past the pirates, can you not?”

Sly stared at Ben in amazement, glancing toward the captain’s quarters where Ben had come from. “He’s …”

“He’s alive, but I’m afraid his conscience has overtaken him. I trust your rudder will turn us about?”

Sly nodded.

“Have the captain tended to. When you see the owner, tell him everything.” Ben moved forward to his assigned duties, not seeing Sly’s nodding.