by David O'Neil
There were no other references to the death of the captain and no explanation of the disaster that had overcome the ship and her crew. In earlier passages he read how they had come upon a treasure ship, crippled by a hurricane, survivors of her crew were clinging to the dismasted hulk. Without food or water.
They had boarded the hulk, and discovered what she was carrying. They killed all the survivors, and transferred as much of her cargo as they could manage before the treasure ship finally sank.
From this comment Martin concluded that the boxes and containers taken from the bilges probably contained some of the treasure mentioned in the log.
The Hilde was actually bigger that the Sparrow certainly at least 30 foot longer and broader in beam accordingly. The problem Martin had was dealing with the prize. His crew was too small in number to man the Hilde and continue with his cruise, he decided that they must return in company to Kingston, perhaps to restart his cruise after delivering the prize and her cargo of timber and treasure.
Three days later the Governor, Port Admiral, Captain Bowers and Lieutenant Forest-Bowers were all seated round the table in Government House. The fan overhead made feeble attempts to cool the humid atmosphere. Martin wished he could get back to sea where, even when it was hot, the air was clean.
The Governor, Sir Roger Makepiece, spoke, “Well. Gentlemen. It seems we have agreement. The cargo of the Hilde has been bid for by the dockyard and the usual prize shares distributed. As for the treasure I am almost embarrassed to say that, under the law of the land, it has been purchased by the crown. Valued at 130,540 guineas, it will be similarly distributed. The ship itself has been purchased at public auction at a further 500 guineas.”
The Port Admiral, Sir Marcus Warren, was rather annoyed at being present and discussing the prize moneys being settled. Since his was a local honorary appointment, he had no claim on the wealth on the table.
The distribution of moneys went to the Admiral in command West Indies Squadron, under whose flag the HMS Arun and HMS Sparrow sailed. Though he was not even in the area his portion was assured. Captain Bower’s share was also assured, as was Martin’s. The crew of the Sparrow were well placed since there were no other naval ships in sight when the prize was taken. This meant they would receive their full shares, and in many cases there would be more money than they were ever likely to receive in their lifetime.
As Captain Bowers and Martin returned through the busy Kingston streets, Bowers said to Martin, “Well, lad. You have made me richer. You, yourself, must now be considered a wealthy man. Have you any idea what you will do with your good fortune?”
“Why, no. sir. I confess I have monies from the earlier prizes, but all remain with the Crown Agents at present. Apart from transferring the funds to Messrs Cox’s Bank, I confess I have made no effort to do anything with it. My life at present is the Navy, and for that I need little.”
“Well said, lad. You are yet young for such matters. I fear I am apt to regard you by your stature and achievement, forgetting that you are just sixteen years. Forgive me, please.”
“I have nothing to forgive. I am complemented by your remarks, sir.”
The pair made the rest of the way to the port, in companionable silence.
HMS Sparrow sailed with the dawn back to her patrol of the Windward Passage. The first of several such patrols during the year. In view of the problems with manning the prize on that first cruise the crew numbers were increased to fifty. Extra space in what was once the hold of the ketch allowed room for the extra men to sling their hammocks. Also it allowed all the guns to be manned in the event of action.
Martin had managed to keep the log book of the Hilde. Her new owner had changed the name to something more British, and since the log had been written in French no-one else could read it anyway. All the pages had now been separated and Martin had now read it and checked the entries with the charts, so it was now possible for him to trace the voyages of the ship with fair accuracy.
It was fortuitous, for on their final cruise before returning to England, Martin found himself sailing at night in the midst of a group of French ships, any one of which could have blown the Sparrow out of the water with a single broadside.
The storm had blown up with a suddenness that was typical in Caribbean waters. The evening darkened dramatically and the waves grew in size as the wind rose. Martin called for all hands to shorten sail. The crew, well drilled by this time, managed the task swiftly and efficiently. Having got the ship riding as well as possible, the night and the storm closed in around them.
During the long night, odd lights were seen in the area. Apart from those reflections of the lightning that flashed intermittently throughout the night, there were several identified as ship lights, from several different ships.
The only group of ships to be found in this area were likely to be enemy. As the coast of Cuba loomed close Martin was lucky enough to identify the inlet mentioned by the ill-fated captain of the Hilde to the east of Guantanamo Bay, where he presumed the other ships were bound.
He ordered the course change to weather the point at the entrance to the bay. The other ships were beginning to appear in the grey light of the dawn. The storm had abated slightly but the wind and waves were still enough to make navigation difficult, and The Sparrow was being tossed about by the wild weather.
One of the other ships had turned toward them and a signal was being flown. Martin ignored it and sighed with relief as they passed between the two headlands and entered the calmer waters of the bay within. The nosey ship, as Reed called it, seemed to lose interest as it was seen to resume her course toward Guantanamo Bay.
Martin was curious, as he quickly began to identify the various landmarks that had been detailed in the old log book. The large cave opening in the cliffs on the eastern side of the bay answered the description given in the log book. Martin ordered the helmsman to steer for the cave, and at the same time ordered the boat to be lowered to check the soundings through the entrance. Reed took the boat and, despite the size of the waves, had no real problem carrying out his task. He entered the cave and was gone for nearly an hour before he returned to report.
“The cave extends near four cables length into the hill behind. The height of the roof rises for half that distance. There is a sizeable rock fall that I think might be the remains of the earthquake that trapped the Hilde. There are more modern signs of rockfalls that probably released the ship to drift out to the point where we encountered her.
“We can sail in and keep out of sight until this storm is over then?” Martin asked.
“Better to tow and row her in. There is room to turn the ship inside, out of sight of the bay.”
The storm subsided and the water within the cave settled down to near dead calm. Martin was almost overcome by the feeling of apprehension he experienced when they entered the cave. He dismissed his foreboding and ventured out in the longboat to explore the cave. The searchers found an opening high up in the side of the cave. There were traces of the remains of people whom he presumed were the surviving crew members of the Hilde. There were several bags, at the spot where the area had been cleared beside a spring of fresh water that came from within the rock into a pool. The scattered bones indicated that either they had been attacked or had fallen out between themselves, possibly over their booty. The scattered remains had clearly been tidied up by the local scavengers.
The bags contained gold coins of various sizes, mainly Spanish. The fact that they were still here suggested that Martin’s theory was probably correct.
They brought the bags to the ship where Martin logged the find, estimating a total of 2000 coins between the fourteen bags located.
He sent watchers to the hilltop nearest to Guantanamo Bay to report on the ships which they had left when they entered the bay.
When they signalled the departure of the convoy, Martin, still feeling the apprehension he had felt since entering the cave, sailed the ship out. He did not lose the feeling of impe
nding doom until they were once more out on the open sea.
Chapter eight
Return
1796 October
The last cruise was sad for Martin as it signalled his return to Arun, relinquishing his independent command after a period of several months. For him command had been a worry and a delight. By the time he handed HMS Sparrow over to his successor—a locally based Commander with his own local crew—he was comfortable in the post. The new frigate, HMS York, sailed into Kingston harbor as HMS Arun prepared to leave. That night there was a reception for the new arrivals and the departing ships. The convoy had been assembled ready to sail the following day under the protection of the frigate and two sloops.
The occasion was one of the outstanding balls of the year in Jamaica. There were few enough chances for the young people of the upper class, to display their finery, and the young, unmarried ladies were all paraded, in the hopes of finding a husband among the collection of young officers who came with the relieving ships.
The other, less publicised option of these occasions, was for the wives whose husbands were away to find dalliance with the probably more virile officers on parade at these events. Martin was now in a position to watch, with a wry smile, the lady who had tutored him in the art of lovemaking, so called, at the time of his own recent arrival. She was currently working her wiles on a young lieutenant from the newly arrived frigate. For Martin there was no real interest in the colorful gathering. His thoughts had turned homeward. It was as he stood in the window with the darkness behind him, that he was startled by the soft voice from behind his shoulder.
“Please, don’t move, sir. I would be most embarrassed to be exposed in this condition.”
Without moving away from his place he swung round, to confront the person who had spoken. The young woman was trying to secure her torn gown over her shoulder, to thus prevent her right breast from being exposed.
“Why, what has happened? Your dress….?”
“The young gentleman,( the savagery that was invested in the words made Martin think of dripping acid,) was no gentleman. He appeared to mistake me for one of the prostitutes from the harbor.”
The irate young lady was pretty and possibly sixteen.
“How can I help?” Martin’s practical question stopped the possible tirade and brought her back to earth.
“I need to get back to my room.”
“Where are you staying?” Martin thought the question a reasonable one.
She looked at him oddly. “Where else but here in the mansion? I am, after all, the Governor’s daughter.”
“I do beg your pardon. I have spent several months of my stay here at sea, and I have not had the pleasure…”
“Well, that did not seem to trouble my earlier escort. So if you will, sir, escort me to my room I would deem it a favor.”
“Of course, Miss. My name is Martin Forest-Bowers, Lieutenant RN.”
“And I am Lady Sarah Makepeace. How do you do? Shall we go?”
“At your service, Milady.” And as she took his offered arm, he escorted her around the house to the servant’s entrance, where they made their way up the back stairs, to the upper rooms of the house. There they entered her private room closing the door behind them. She turned and careless of her now exposed breast turned the key in the lock.
Turning on the startled man behind her, she said. “Now. Sir, I will need your help, for I cannot get into or out of these clothes without the help of another.”
Trying to avoid looking at the delightful breast exposed to his view, he said, “But you must have a maid. Shall I call her?”
“She gossips to everyone. I have no secrets while she is about, and I would rather my father did not learn of this episode. So you will have to help me. Now undo the buttons down my back. Quickly now.”
She turned and flung open the wardrobe. “I suppose it should be similar color to this.” She lifted the skirt of her dress exposing a length of bare leg to Martin’s gaze as he struggled to undo the tiny buttons down the back of the elaborate dress.
As he progressed down her back her bare skin was exposed down to below her waist. At that point she grasped the skirt of her dress and called him to help her lift it over her head.
Between them they managed, carefully avoiding disturbing her elaborate hair arrangement. The torn dress was deposited on a chair beside the bed.
The lady was now stark naked and was revealed as a beautifully formed woman, pretty faced, and with an infectious smile that lit up her face as she saw Martin’s blushes.
“Am I not pretty, Martin Forest-Bowers?” She turned around in front of him. “Would I qualify for your bed, sir?” She asked wickedly.”
“You would indeed qualify for anyone’s bed, looking as you do, Miss.”
“Now, sir. I see you are suffering from this oppressive heat. You must at least remove that jacket before you expire from our efforts.” She darted forward and was undoing the buttons of his uniform jacket even as she spoke. With the jacket removed Martin felt much better, but his companion was not pleased with the state of the shirt he was wearing. She had that off over his head, while he was still recovering from her first assault.
Sarah stood back and looked approvingly at his body thus exposed.
For Martin the breath of cooler air from the open windows was blessed relief. He was now certain that his current temperature was not from the climate alone by any means. When Sarah declared that it was unfair for him to be clothed while she was not, his token resistance to her attack on his breeches, quite uncomfortable in their restriction of his now obvious manhood, ended with relieved cooperation in the task.
Suddenly, everything slowed down as the two young people looked at each other on that hot tropic night. Then Sarah took his hand and led Martin to the bed that had been in the background since they had entered the room. She sat down on the edge and still holding his hand she drew him down to join her.
The ships of the convoy spread over a square mile of sea, all eight sailing well in the steady breeze. It had taken most of the morning to reassemble the full complement, as their captains all had individual ideas about maintaining their positions during the dark hours. Despite each ship carrying a stern lantern, two of the merchantmen had managed to collide. The noise of the collision had startled all the other cargo carriers into changing course, away from trouble. HMS Arun and her schooners had ranged far to regain contact with their flock. All the escorts were weary of what they saw as the amateurish blundering of the ships in their charge.
While Arun kept to windward of the little armada, with the sloops HMS Fox ranged on the leeward side, and HMS Heron bringing up the rear.
For Captain Bowers, there was another problem. The biggest of the convoy ships was a former East Indiaman named the Earl Warwick. Her owner was aboard with his family. His son was a Midshipman serving in the Fox. Timothy Watson had no wish to indulge his family by being amongst them on this voyage. His position in the navy was at his own request. There was more excitement being part of the crew of the sloop than could be enjoyed as passenger with his family on the long voyage to England.
As an important man in Jamaica, Sir Marcus Watson demanded what he regarded as his rightful consideration on this voyage to England. He felt that the Royal Navy was servant to the needs of the nobility. His title having been passed down by his father for services to the crown, in providing money and rum to the cause, meant that his rights to nobility were satisfied thus.
Unfortunately, he was beginning to realize that his interpretation of due rights was not shared by Captain Bowers, who commanded the convoy. While Captain Bowers was prepared, during a period of dead calm to allow some intercourse between ships for socializing, he was not prepared to transfer Midshipman Watson to the Earl Warwick to act as aide to Sir Marcus, and allow Lady Watson to spend time with her son.
Timothy Watson was mortified by his father’s posturing, as was his sister Marina, a pretty 15 year old blond who was enjoying the attent
ion of the officers and crew. There was no way she wanted her brother there to poke his nose into her affairs. He was too bossy by far.
There was a fair amount of socializing during the period of calm. For the warships all had boats in the water, all ostensibly to assist in the passage of people between ships. In addition Captain Bowers had privately conveyed to the merchantmen, that they should also use the opportunity to launch their own boats, just in case it became necessary to tow their ships into a more favorable position, if they were attacked whilst still becalmed.
The competition between the ships in rowing races passed the time for the men and wagers were won and lost between the rival crews. However the escorts sighed with relief when the first flirt of breeze was felt and the drifting ships were once more able to make way on their journey home.
Martin’s seventeenth birthday had been celebrated in the Caribbean, but as they entered the English Channel he suggested, since the crew would be split up, they use the special stores saved from that occasion for a farewell party, rather than wasting them. The weather was kind, and knowing that four of the ships were leaving the convoy off Falmouth, and the remainder, with the exception of the Earl Warwick, at Plymouth, there was a light-heartedness about the celebration, that combined with the close proximity of their home port, made the party go well. The ship was due for a refit in the dockyard for several weeks. Most of the officers and crew would be moved on to other ships. The officers certainly would receive a week or so break, and the opportunity to get to know their families again, before departing on their next assignment.
The Navy was enjoying considerable popularity at the time. The victory over the Spanish at Cape St Vincent had seen Admiral Sir John Jervis elevated to the peerage as Earl St Vincent.