H.M.S Valor

by Cal Clement

  “Chibs, are those Spanish coins?” James asked wide eyed.

  “Some are. Some are French, some of them are American. There’s no telling what that chest alone is worth, Captain.”

  “What would a slave hauler be doing carrying all this?” asked Lilith shifting her gaze between the two men.

  “Well. It could be the Captain’s purse.” James started.

  “Not a Captain of the East India Company James, this is more than any Captain could be holding for himself.” Chibs answered with a grievous glare. “James, these riches were bound for someone. The crew likely had little knowledge they were even here. If they had known of an amount like this, they’d have mutinied on the bastard and this tub would be scuttled in some cove never to be found again. There’s just no way.”

  “Who cares Chib? It’s ours now! The profits of the slave trade, split amongst our crew!” exclaimed the Captain.

  “James, you’re not hearing me. Someone is expecting this bounty! When it doesn’t arrive, there is going to be all manner of hell breaking loose. This is an East India Company ship, that means whoever is waiting on this gold holds position with the company and likely the damned Royal Navy. We need to scuttle her here and now and be gone. Out of the Caribbean and soon lad!” said Chibs, his voice betrayed a bit of panic James was not accustomed to from his steady first mate.

  “No Chib, I don’t think we’ll be scuttling her.” James began.

  “Oh, damnit man! Will you hear me out? They are going to be watching for this particular ship! A brig of English make and mark lad! We can refit her and rename her, but that won’t deter eyes for long! James, I’m begging you. We can take on all the souls, there’s room aboard the Maiden and the Shepherd, between the two of us we can save them and be rid of this vessel. Use your reason lad!” Chibs was in a full fury now. Trying to dissuade his Captain from what he saw as an error of ego.

  “No, Chibs. I understand what you are telling me. I get it clear as morning. But I have another idea,” said James. His glance shifted between Chibs and Lilith and for a second, there was a devilish grin on his face and Lilith caught a gleam in his eye. Whatever thought he had cooked up; Lilith knew he would not let go easily.

  “Clear every soul off this ship Chibs, just as you said. But get a prize crew aboard her, we make sail with the dawn. Northward.”

  22 Sept 1808

  Kingston, Jamaica Colony

  Dawn appeared behind the fleet as they sailed into the harbor in Kingston, sending long shadows from the tall ships stretching out ahead of them onto the gentle swells. With the Hunter in the lead they slowly eased into the broad bay towards their anchorage some distance off the long piers on the shore. An eerie calm lingered over the harbor which was usually fraught with activity no matter the time of day. Aboard the Endurance, Admiral Sharpe had come on deck for their entrance into the harbor. His keen eye missed little and he was soon on a razor edge with the change in activity. Typically, the fleet pulling into harbor would draw a frenzy of activity. Merchants and craftsmen would make their way to the piers to offer their goods and services, women would flock to greet the weary sailors and help relieve them of some of their pay. But this morning the harbor remained quiet, even for a day when they were not receiving the fleet. Something was amiss. The steady sounding of the linesmen calling out their measurements and the crisp orders from the quarterdecks of each ship was the only sound that met his ears. No music from town, no raucous brawling or shouting, no catcalls from women on shore. Elliot’s face tightened and he could feel his skin prickle with goosebumps as he looked up to the fort overlooking the harbor. The battery guns were all run out.

  “Lieutenant Harper.” Sharpe called over his shoulder.

  “Yes Sir?” the Lieutenant answered hurrying up to the Admiral’s side.

  “I want a detachment of marines armed and ready into longboats as soon as we drop anchor. From every ship. They are to man their watch and send me every other available marine and an officer from each vessel. Is that understood?” Elliot ordered.

  “Yes Sir, straight away Sir,” the young officer replied.

  “And have the gun lines man their pieces. Don’t run them out, they are to stand by. But I want them manned, something isn’t right in Kingston.”

  “Aye Sir,” the Lieutenant rendered a salute and hastily withdrew.

  Over his shoulder Elliot looked back at the Valor following his flagship. His heart sank for Captain Grimes and he wondered if the stubborn rogue had parted from the world during their sail. No signal had yet been given from the Valor’s acting commander, but Grimes’ condition had seemed too severe for recovery. The Admiral could feel a burning tingling sensation in his nose, radiating up behind his eyes threatening to send tears forth. He cleared his throat and looked about the deck of his flagship quickly, he dared not show this emotion freely in front of his command. But the memories begrudgingly kept holding his mind. Shared drink and merriment with Johnathan as a young Lieutenant, hardships borne together and losses, a great many of them. Johnathan had been a Lieutenant under Elliot’s command aboard the H.M.S Raven a frigate much like the Valor. He had mentored Johnathan where he could and even though the man was stubborn and prideful almost to a fault, he had developed into a masterful commander. Elliot gritted his teeth a bit thinking about his early struggles with Johnathan. He had a mind for tactics and he was devilishly clever but his sheer aggression often overshadowed his finer traits in his youth. True to form until the very end, he flatly refused to be beaten. The engagement long over and decisive as it was there was no contesting, the Valor had been defeated. Elliot chuckled a bit thinking, no, not for Captain Grimes. Not until the Valor was pulled to the cold depths would Grimes admit a defeat.

  “Heave to boys! Prepare cables and anchor, haul up those halyards and make ready for longboats!” cried out a petty officer near the quarterdeck. Admiral Sharpe snapped his mind to the present, shaking off nostalgia. The present required his full attention and his command required nothing less than absolute focus. Johnathan would have scoffed at him just for the time he’d already dithered away reminiscing. Marines were already forming up on deck, preparing for the landing party the Admiral had ordered. As Elliot strode back to his cabin with the morning sun glorious in his eyes, he took note of the impressive appearance of the formation. Each marine was being picked over by a pair of sergeants ensuring they were ready for action, that bold look of determination flashing in each man’s eye. Yes, Elliot thought, Grimes would have made a fine marine had he not been a sailor. The thought made him grin a bit as he passed the last of the formation and descended to his cabin. He donned his formal uniform coat and his hat, then strapped on his sword. It had been years since he had worn his sword for anything other than ceremony and tradition. Not even for the incursion of the cove had he armed himself, that’s what he had marines for, but this interaction, this confrontation rather, was an entirely different matter.

  “If that bloody American is there. God only knows how this will go.” Elliot grumbled aloud.

  “Pardon Sir?” Lieutenant Harper asked.

  “Never mind lad.” Elliot replied, silently chastising himself for breaking his reserve. “Actually. Lieutenant, get yourself squared away. You will be joining me, us, ashore.” The young Lieutenant’s face hinted a slighter shade of white.

  “M-m-me Sir?” Harper bumbled.

  “Yes. Strap on your sword and leave that damn sheepish look stowed away. You wouldn’t want the marines to think you a coward son,” said the Admiral. His disappointment was veiled behind his bearing, but nonetheless still there. Perhaps he would find another officer of Grimes’ caliber, but Harper would not be it.

  The line of longboats steadily made way under oar to the pier. In the lead Admiral Sharpe appeared to be doing his damn best impression of Washington crossing the Delaware, William thought. He did look formidable and that thought struck William suddenly. Was the comparison of Sharpe to Washington a sign? Was it some subconscious force at
work warning him of their endeavor? William’s mind was tangled, and his guts seemed to be following suit. They cramped and ached under his uniform coat as the longboats approached the pier. The sunshine was quickly warming the thick Jamaican morning to a stifling muggy, yet William’s fingers ached with chill. His heart fluttered in his chest the way it had when the Valor first opened a broadside in the Atlantic all those weeks ago. The Admiral had business to deal with Governor Alton, but this was no routine calling. Their landing party was comprised from every ship at Sharpe’s disposal, sixty marines and twelve officers and midshipmen.

  The wooden thunk of the longboat bumping against the pier brought a flurry of action from each boat and William debarked in a scurry of activity. In short order the marines had formed into two columns to move out to the Admiral’s objective, Governor Alton’s mansion. They stepped off the wooden pier and onto dirt road marching their way past shops and taverns, every man well aware of the odd calm surrounding them. Windows were being shuddered along their path as the column crew up the road toward the Governor’s residence and every so often a mother would be seen scurrying her children back inside. Along the left flank of the column a marketplace that typically teemed with activity was barren. This sight seemed to strike a chord with Admiral Sharpe, soon William began to hear the marines passing word to fix bayonets. Despite the sweltering sun a chill ran through him, attaching bayonets was as sure an omen of combat as the opening salvo of a bow chaser. But indeed, this would be a gritty affair, up close if it ignited and every bit as explosive.

  The mansion stood tall in front of them, gated and with stone cobbled streets approaching the front. Admiral Sharp stepped to the side of the double column and let them pass until he saw William with the detachment from the Valor.

  “Lieutenant Pike, I would like for you and the marines of the Valor to accompany me inside to see the Governor when we get there. The rest of the party will secure the grounds and stand guard while we attend the Lord Governor,” said Elliot briskly.

  “Yes Sir. Is there anything else you need done Admiral?” Will asked, trying not to let his nerves show.

  “Keep your saber handy and that imposing look, you’ll do fine otherwise. If something should happen to me, get the men back to the fleet and respond accordingly,” said Elliot. His impression did not change, nor his tone, but Will almost stopped in his tracks. What could he mean ‘If something should happen to me’, what did he expect would happen? They were going to confront a Governor suspected of crimes, yes, but not lining up against Napoleon’s formations. The column finally entered the Governor’s gated compound and orders began flying around. The marines fanned out and moved through the compound, cautiously checking corners, window and doors. Once the outside was secured, Admiral Sharpe, Lieutenant Pike and Lieutenant Harper made their way up the final steps to the grand front entrance. A pair of marines quickly moved in front of them and opened the double doors followed immediately by another pair who entered into the atrium.

  Inside as Will and Elliot entered, they immediately noticed the mansion had been stripped bare, devoid of the excessive finery Governor Alton so famously indulged in. Paintings were gone, furniture overturned, and fixtures stripped everywhere they looked.

  “What in hell?” said Sharpe, his voice betraying his confusion and an edge of anxiety.

  “It looks as though someone may have beaten us here Sir,” one of the marines said. Sergeant Wilson, one of the complement from the Valor was pointing out a blood stain at the foot of the curving staircase.

  “So it would seem. Damn it! Lieutenant Harper get me a runner, we need to get word from the garrison and find out what the blazes has happened in Kingston.” Sharpe snapped.

  “Yes Sir.” Harper replied slipping outside to fetch a marine for the task.

  Will walked toward the rear of the house through a door where a desk stood amid a floor full of overturned bookshelves. On top of the desk lay several charts and a log. A small jar of ink had spilled over onto the desk and there was a deep gouge into the surface of the dark wood. William scanned over the charts, noting nothing of significance. He pushed one off of the next, sorting through the pile. They were all detailed charts of the coasts surrounding Jamaica. William raised a brow as an idea crossed his mind. Shuffling back through the charts he looked for the cove where Admiral Sharpe had discovered the slaver camp nearby. Twice over he sorted through the pile unable to find the chart for the location he was after. His search was interrupted by the sound of the front door of the mansion slamming open.

  “Admiral! Admiral Sharpe Sir!” Lieutenant Harper called.

  “What is it?” came the Admiral’s reply as William ran out into the atrium.

  “A column on horse approaches Sir.”

  “How many?” the Admiral asked quickly making his way to the door. The Lieutenant began to respond, but it was lost in Admiral Sharpe’s next order.

  “Form up marines. Make ready,” he shouted, then turning to the marines inside the atrium, “To the roof lads, I want you to cover us from above. If a fight starts, aim smartly.” Elliot stepped out into the burning sunlight to the sight of a column of men on horseback, entering the compound gates. Will fell in beside the Admiral and Lieutenant Harper as the column came to a halt. The lead rider approached to a few paces in front of the officers.

  “I have brought a dispatch from Lord Governor Alton, Admiral,” said the rider, pulling a sealed parchment from his coat.

  “Tim, isn’t it? As recollection serves, the Governor introduced us. Where is he? Governor Alton, I desire to speak to him,” Elliot asked cutting straight to the matter.

  “He has chosen to relocate for his own safety. Due to your treacherous actions the colony of Jamaica is not safe,” replied Tim, a grin forming with his words. “But by all means. Read for yourself Sir.”

  “Why would a Governor of a British Royal colony, Crown appointed, be sending his orders through an American?” Elliot said, making no move to retrieve the letter.

  “To that I will not speak. Not that it is any concern of yours, you are a servant of the King, an order is an order is it not? Perhaps a more amenable commander could be found for your fleet should you continue your unruly behaviors.” Tim’s eyes moved upward toward the roof, “I heard I missed you in the cove. How unfortunate, meeting you there could have saved me some trouble. Now Admiral, be a good sailor and take your orders.” He dropped the envelope to the ground. William could see Elliot’s face flush red. He stood stone still, unmoving to the insults being laid on him by the arrogant American.

  “And the fire sortie at the ‘rebel camp’, that was you as well?” said the Admiral, his voice lowered slightly and Will could see his anger beginning to boil.

  “Yes. Your fleet performed remarkably in that respect, my thanks to you Sir. See? I can be a reasonable fellow, I just require some, cooperation. Your recent performance, however, leaves something to be desired.” Tim drawled, as he spoke, the column of horsemen had fanned out making a semi-circle enveloping the front of the mansion. “I warned the Governor that you would become a problem. As usual, that fat oaf ignored good sense. I had planned to come see you in the cove, but again, we just missed each other. I thought for certain, and correctly, that you would be returning to Kingston. To confront Alton with what you found in the cove, yes?”

  “You seem to have the measure of it.” Elliot growled.

  “Well, your interference can no longer be tolerated,” said Tim, as he spoke, the bodies of four marines dropped from the roof. Tim rapidly drew a pistol from his waistband, leveled it at Admiral Sharpe and fired. Elliot recoiled and William reached out to stop his fall. Blood was already soaking into the Admiral’s uniform coat as Will tried to help him get his feet back underneath himself. In a moment the grounds of the Governor’s mansion became a battlefield as fire was exchanged between the royal marines and the mounted men. Tim had wheeled his horse and departed immediately after shooting Admiral Sharpe, leaving the rest of his men to deal w
ith the aftermath. Gun smoke permeated the air and hung low over the ground; marines fell to shots as men were unhorsed from their accurate return fire. Will looked toward the road at the fleeing American, seeing a marine thrust his bayonet and impale a rider following the man. For an instant Will felt a clarity take hold of his mind in the middle of the chaos, the gunfire and screams seemed duller and he asked himself where the American could be going. Then it hit him, just as if he’d been struck by a musket ball.

  “Get to the longboats, men, get to the ships! He’s going to the fort! Get to the ships now!” he screamed. Will put the Admiral arm over his shoulder and began moving to the road as marines closed in to protect their movement. He noticed that Sharpe’s arm had gone limp and he head hung down against his shoulder. “We’re going to the ships Sir, just hang on Sir, I will get you there.” No response came and Will’s heart sank in his chest. He ran, heaving the Admiral with him toward the gate, through gun fire and swords and bayonets clattering. The marines had gathered around him, a far slighter number than had first marched up the road in the morning sun. Perhaps twenty remained, the rest lay scattered about the mansion grounds. Once they made their way from the cobbled street and onto the dirt road the mounted men ceased their fire. Will dared not slow his pace, unsure if they were regrouping to continue their assault.

  “Get to the ships men and make sail at once! Cut anchor lines and just go, they are going to open fire from the fort batteries!” Will screamed, laboring for the breath for each word.

  He could feel the pace of every man with him quicken and suddenly two marines had overtaken his hold of the Admiral.

  “We’ll get him the rest of the way Sir,” one of the marines said.

  Their race to the docks was unencumbered by any more fire from the horsemen, but just as Will’s foot thudded onto the wooden pier the roar of a cannon shot pierced through the harbor. Will looked up in horror as the first shots impacted into the Hunter.