by Cal Clement
“Come here, you shit!” the sailor shouted, stumbling with a pitch of the deck and Omibwe’s pull he fell forward onto his face. Without thinking, LeMeux reared back his right arm and hit the sailor square in the jaw as he turned to get up, crumpling him into an unconscious pile. LeMeux shook his hand after the hit, it hurt worse than he’d thought. The Gazelle heaved as if she knew what was occurring within her bowels, throwing LeMeux and Omibwe against the door. LeMeux started to realize the perilous folly he’d made.
“I’ve struck a crewman! Jesus, God, what in heavens name was I thinking? I mean, I’d planned to do something, but now? In a storm? Even if we take the ship, we’re doomed in this storm without someone who knows how to sail her!” LeMeux said aloud, to Omibwe and to himself.
“We will be ok doctor. Open the cells. We will fight the crew, they can’t beat all of us.” Omibwe said, a stubborn bravery in his eyes.
“Oh, my dear friend. You have no idea. There are so many fewer and all so weak, everyone out there is too weak! No, it won’t work.” LeMeux rebutted. He saw a leather strap hanging from the sailor’s waistband with several keys attached. “We are committed now, I suppose, for better or worse. Damn it.” LeMeux said, leaning down and retrieving the keys from the unconscious sailor. He helped Omibwe to stand.
“Omi, we are going out to the passageway. You and I will figure out which of these keys will open the cells. Then I will take the rest to see if I can find arms, they must have a weapons locker somewhere in the hold. We must work quickly Omi. Come now.” LeMeux said, steeling himself for their perilous task. He opened the door to the passageway slightly and peered out, seeing nothing but shadows dancing across the wooden bulkheads of the ship from the swaying lanterns. LeMeux opened the door farther and he and Omibwe edged out into the passageway, steadying themselves against the bulkhead as the ship heaved. They came to the first cell, mostly occupied by grown men, though they were all in about the same shape, gaunt and tired looking. LeMeux fumbled through the keys, checking over his shoulder with each try to open the cell lock. There were three keys on the leather strap, LeMeux tried the first two keys, swearing each time they did not fit. On the third key, the thought crossed LeMeux’s mind that the key for the cells might not be on this set. The click of the lock dispelled his fears and he swung the iron bars of the cell door open. The faces of the men inside were riddled with confusion and fear, until Omibwe crossed behind LeMeux and appeared into the cell. His familiar face calming their fears, but not their confusion.
“Come with us. This man is going to help us!” exclaimed Omibwe in his native tongue. The men in the cell shuffled to their feet with a burst of energy heralded by the prospect of escape. LeMeux separated the cell key from the strap and handed it to Omibwe.
“Open the rest my friend, I will go look for weapons. Hurry, I’ll be back as quick as I can,” said LeMeux. He disappeared up the passageway toward the stairs leading deeper into the hold of the ship. Omibwe handed the key to one of the men from the cell they had just opened and asked him to help with opening the rest. They moved to the next cell and had it open in a moment, Omibwe explained what they needed as the door was opened and man and woman alike came forth from the second cell into the passageway. On the third cell, the man helping Omibwe with the key struggled, the key bound within the lock and he had to wrench on it hard to break it free. Finally, after a few attempts the key turned in the lock and with a click the cell door swung open. Omibwe’s fear was rising, there was fourteen prisoners crowded in the passageway and LeMeux was nowhere to be seen. With the fourth cell opened the number in the passageway grew to nineteen and they moved to the next cell. Omibwe’s heart soared when he saw Anaya’s bright eyes appear inside the cell.
“Anaya! Mother! Father!” Omibwe exclaimed, “We have to hurry, my friend is going to help us, we’re going to escape!”
“What do you mean escape? We are on a ship on the ocean boy!” his father replied, a concerned and doubtful look across his gaunt features.
“We have to fight the crew father, if we can take over this ship, then maybe we can go home.” Omibwe answered his challenge. Together they all crowded into the passageway and moved up to the next cell. “Where is the doctor?” Omibwe muttered as he struggled to make his way farther up the passageway. His arm was already chafed from leaning on the makeshift crutch and his good leg was feeling the strain of exertion from carrying his weight compounded by the constant movement of the deck. In the crowded passageway now had two dozen people, but LeMeux had still not returned. Omibwe started to wonder if he should have unlocked all the doors and then awaited his return, that way if a sailor happened his way into view all would appear normal until the doctor returned with weapons.
Immediately confirming Omibwe’s fear, they heard as the weather hatch was lifted and a flush of seawater spilled down the stairs announcing the entrance of one of the ship’s crew below deck. The sailor came into view starting with his soaking shoes, a flash of lightning danced through the open hatch as he stepped carefully down the stairs into view. Omibwe studied the man’s waistline, he did not appear to have any weapons on him. The sailor stepped onto the bottom two steps of the stair flight, letting the weather hatch slam down above him shutting out the wind and rain. The sailor turned and looked up the passageway, at first not registering what he saw. A desperate look crossed the sailor’s face and he turned to race back up to the main deck. The two nearest the sailor were Omibwe and a woman a few years older than him. Omibwe scrambled to hop toward the fleeing sailor and the woman followed passing him in two swift steps. She grabbed at the sailor’s feet and clung her arms around his legs. The sailor had one hand on the weather hatch and was trying to lift it as the African woman pulled at his legs with everything she had. The weather hatch cracked open only a sliver, spilling some seawater into the hold for a split second. “Help!” the sailor shouted before losing his footing and being drug down to the bottom of the stairs. He landed in a pile on top of the woman who had pulled him. “You damn wench, get your filthy hands off of me!” the sailor spit out in a venomous rage. Omibwe hobbled right next to the two and lifted his makeshift board crutch, slamming it into the sailor’s forehead. The man appeared dazed and a laceration was opened across his forehead, but he reached out toward Omibwe, so the young man struck again, this time with all the strength and weight he could muster behind the blow. The sailor went limp at the impact of the second strike and Omibwe fell over as the ship pitched in a wave.
Dr. LeMeux returned from the hold below, running up the stairwell with a brace of pistols in one arm and three scabbarded swords under the other. He immediately began handing out arms to men and women around him, when he reached the side of the deck where Omibwe was struggling to get back upright, the doctor reached down and assisted the young man. Then he saw the sailor with the gash across his forehead laying on the deck and assisted the young African woman to her feet as well.
“I see you’ve been busy in my absence Omi. I’ve only found a few weapons, these will have to do for now.” LeMeux said.
“What now? What do we do now?” Omibwe asked, fear and panic taking hold in his eyes.
“The Captain is seriously injured, so I think Mr. Sprague has taken command of the ship. If we can get to the cabin in the aft castle, I think we could take Sprague by surprise. But Omi, I think it would be smart to bide our time and wait out this storm. If any of the sailors come down from the deck, we can overpower them here at the stairs. Once the weather calms, it would be foolish to attempt anything in this storm.” LeMeux said, improvising a plan as he spoke. “We need to get this man into a cell and the one in my cabin, before they come to.” Omibwe explained to the other prisoners, much quicker in his native language than the doctor could’ve. They set about, dragging the two sailors into a cell and binding their hands and locking them in. Omibwe instructed those with weapons to position by the stairs, guarding for crew coming below deck. They all settled in, waiting out the storm and bracing themselves for
the fight to come.
H.M.S Endurance
14 Sept 1808
18 Degrees 2’ N, 76 Degrees 15’ W
“Weather on the eastern horizon Sir, could be severe by the look of it.” Lieutenant Cormer said, informing Admiral Sharpe who had just come onto the quarter deck a moment before.
“Very well Lieutenant. Signal the squadron, we will weather the storm in the bay to our west. High tide still, is it?” the Admiral replied knowing full well the exact conditions of the seas. He made a habit of testing whatever officer was on watch whenever he came on deck, his not so subtle way of reinforcing seamanship.
“Yes Sir, rising tide for the next two hours. According to our charts we’ll have enough depth inside the bay to weather slack tide, Sir,” the Lieutenant responded. Elliot was pleased, the young officer not only answered his question but also sufficed the question he planned to ask next. The admiral allowed a slight smile to break his stone bearing for just a moment.
“Alright Lieutenant bring her about,” said Elliot.
The course change was quick and orderly, the signalman hoisted his flags and within moments his orders had been acknowledged by the two ships sailing in concert with him. Within minutes the ships were all edging their way toward the mouth of a large inlet bay on the eastern Jamaican shore. The steady wind out of the northeast had shifted, giving way to a much cooler and stronger wind from the southeast heralding a storm on its way. The foreboding cloud formation seemed to be expanding by the minute and flashes of lightning could be seen within the dark skies beyond the cloud front.
Admiral Sharpe had spent the last few weeks sailing around Jamaica, investigating every nook and cranny of coastline finding nothing to substantiate his suspicions. This had only served to vex the admiral as he was wholly convinced something was afoul and he was being used as a pawn in someone’s misdeeds. Years of officer conduct and reserve prevented him from sharing his true concerns with anyone, it would be dangerously inappropriate in his mind to give any of his subordinates reason to doubt his judgment. He continued, passed his orders when necessary and contemplated each situation that had led him to these scandalous conclusions all the while. His interactions with Governor Alton lately had become awkward and tense, even adversarial. The presence of the American he had met at the Governor’s mansion baffled logic and he strongly suspected that American was indeed on the field where his ships had recently provided their firepower to quell a supposed rebellion. He questioned himself most of all, whether he was interpreting events and behaviors accurately, even asking himself if he had become paranoid. He shook off the notion, years of service grounded him and honed his instincts, something was afoot. He just needed some confirmation of his suspicions.
As his flagship approached the mouth of the bay Elliot walked up to the bow, he observed the conditions of the seas and scanned the inlet for any ships taking anchorage. The gentle waves breaking along the shores outside the bay were beginning to intensify as the wind picked up gradually, but within the bay the sea was calm and the only indication of incoming weather was the trees ashore beginning to dance with stronger and stronger gusts of wind. After sailing just a few minutes through the opening, Elliot could see that the inlet split off in two directions, the largest part branched north in a broad bay sheltered from the open sea by a thin rocky finger. But towards the southwest he could see another opening, a branch of the bay he was unaware of. Elliot’s face flared red with embarrassment, though no one except him could have ever known what from. The Admiral prided himself on his seamanship and navigation savvy, to have sailed these waters as long as he had without knowing the true nature of this particular bay was to him, appalling. He turned to a midshipman passing behind him.
“You there, fetch me the chart we have for this shoreline. Lively now.” Admiral Sharpe said snappily.
“Aye Sir!” the midshipman replied, he took off toward the chartroom at a quick pace.
Elliot pulled his looking glass and extended it, scanning the shores to his southwest. As he examined, he could see where the inlet snaked around farther west, occluded by another finger of land with a formidable tree line. From the open sea the inner inlet would be obscured from view, camouflaged by a tree line that seemed to blend together with that of the shore just beyond.
“The chart you requested Sir,” said the midshipman, interrupting Elliot’s thoughts. “Compliments from the officer of the watch. He asks if there is a specific part of the bay you wish to anchor the squadron?”
Elliot took hold of the chart and found the bay they were sailing into, studying the shape he could see plainly that the chart did not include the hidden inner cove.
“South by west, drop anchor where we can weather this storm and slack tide. Signal the Hunter to lay her guns covering the mouth of the bay and signal the Bayonet to lay her guns covering the mouth of that inlet.” Elliot rattled his orders.
“Begging your pardon Sir. But what inlet?” the midshipman replied sheepishly. Elliot smiled broadly realizing he was the first aboard to discover the inner inlet. He put a hand on the shoulder of the young officer and gave over his looking glass.
“That inlet, young man. See to it, and have longboats made ready. I want a compliment of marines ready to go ashore within the hour from all three ships,” said the Admiral. With that he left the midshipman standing on the bow, as he headed to his cabin Elliot tried to think of the last time he had personally led a party ashore.
PART TWO
Take The Helm
Chapter 6
‘Drowned Maiden’
14 Sept 1808
18 Degrees 2’ N, 76 Degrees 11’ W
The brunt effects of the storm had enveloped both the Drowned Maiden and the Unholy Shepherd. Howling winds combined with large rolling waves, battering both ships as they made their way toward the eastern coast of Jamaica. Waves broke on the bow of the Maiden, washing seawater across the deck and making walking near impossible for all but the most seasoned of the crew. Lilith fought through waves of nausea on the constantly rolling deck, tending lines according to the orders Chibs barked through howling wind. Several times, the Maiden rolled so hard Lilith thought she was going over the rest of the way. It was by far the worst storm she had ever experienced. Chibs seemed unmoved by the severe conditions, calm even as the ship was tossed about through wind and wave.
“Land ho! Land off the bow!” the lookout aloft called. His voice barely audible over the wind.
“Aye, land!” Chibs called back. The lookout yelled something else down, his words lost to a wave breaking over the bow. “What?” Chibs called back up at him. Again, the lookout called something down, but the words he shouted were drowned out in the storm. Chibs, shaking his head turned to Lilith.
“Girl, go and fetch the Captain. Let him know we’ve sighted land.” Chibs said, wiping seawater off his brow and wringing out his beard.
“Aye.” Lilith responded. She scurried across the deck, stopping to grab onto the rail as a large wave broke over the bow sending a wash of seawater across the ship. When she reached the door to James’ cabin she knocked loudly,
“Enter,” came James’ voice from within. Opening the door, she found the Captain leaning against a table with a chart spread out atop.
“Such a loud knock from such a small and beautiful creature. You intrigue me Lilith.” James said with a warm smile.
“Aye Captain, I wanted to be certain you would hear me.” Lilith replied slightly embarrassed by his flattery.
“I can think of worse interruptions. What brings you miss?” James asked.
“Lookouts have spotted land. Chibs told me to inform you.”
“Very good. I suppose it’s time I came out and got wet with the rest of you. It will certainly be an improvement of company, if not condition.” James said, giving her a sideways look and smiling all the more.
Above deck Captain James lurched and staggered his way through the motion of the ship up to the bow. He extended his looking glass and did h
is best to peer through the weather. Meanwhile the lookout and Chibs were still shouting back and forth trying to communicate through the blustering wind and breaking waves. The lookout reluctantly pointed to the foot of the ratlines, signaling Chibs to meet him there so he could pass his message without competing with the weather. When the two met, Chibs spoke with the man only for a fleeting moment before he took off across the ship towards the Captain. Oblivious to the movement of the deck the rain and waves Chibs seemed to be in a panic.
“Captain!” Chibs shouted over the weather, “Captain there are masts sighted in the bay!” He stumbled up right next to Captain James, who instantly turned back outboard and peered back through his looking glass.
“So there are Chibs. Let’s make our course west by north. We’ll have to skirt the coast north until the weather settles.” James replied, shouting over the wind.
Chibs scrambled back to help adjust course, Lilith trying her best to keep up behind him. As the two made their way back, a rogue wave slammed against the side of the Maiden throwing both to the deck. Lilith looked up to see Chibs awash in a flood of seawater struggling to his feet, just beyond him the ship’s wheel spun freely the helmsman lying unconscious at its base.
“Lilith!” Chibs cried out slipping from his feet in the rush of water, “Lilith! Take the helm! Take the helm or we’re doomed girl!” Lilith stumbled and slid, falling to her knees. She pulled herself back to her feet and made it to the wheel. Lilith grabbed onto the wheel and was nearly lifted off the deck by the force of it. She put all her weight into trying to right the wheel.
“Chibs! I need help, I can’t turn it back!” Lilith screamed. In an instant and seemingly appearing from nowhere Captain James grabbed hold on the other side of the ships massive wheel.
“Ready girl? Hard a starboard,” James shouted. The wheel moved grudgingly but with James and Lilith both laboring at it the ship started to correct course. As the bow swung back to where it was and then edged north James looked over to Lilith.