H.M.S Valor

by Cal Clement

  “There is a bucket.” Will cut, no longer hiding his disgust. The fresh smell of urine mixed into the already foul odors permeating the small cell. The man hadn’t bathed and was sweating profusely, to add to the concoction his bowel movements were handled in the same matter as his urine.

  “What’s the use? We’ll be dead soon enough, you as well, so you can dispense with your comments. I won’t be taking inquiry today, nor ever again,” his hand waved in a grand dismissive gesture.

  “Who are you? How did you come to be on this ship?” Will asked through a squint, trying to see the man’s face in the dimness.

  “What does it matter? I can be King George and You Admiral Cornwallis; it makes no difference lad. We will die at the hands of these savages. Did you see? They have Negroes commanding, they will skin us or slit our throats if they don’t run us aground first,” the man dithered in sobbing tones.

  “She seemed seaworthy to me, maybe short of crew, but…” Will began to interject but was interrupted.

  “They are all savages! Fit for cane and cotton field, nothing more! I wouldn’t even let them work in the bloody kitchens!” his drivel turned to screams, the voices in the next cell quieted.

  “Lieutenant Pike? Everything alright over there?” a voice from Shelton echoed in from a barred porthole in the door.

  “Yes. Yes, we’re fine in here.” Will answered, then turned to the filthy man, “What is your name Sir? We likely aren’t going anywhere soon; I’d just as soon know whose piss I’m standing in.”

  “I am Lord Geor Alton, the King’s appointed governor of the Jamaica colony if you must know. But you will find that rank and title are lost on these buffoons. Privilege and position mean nothing to animals, so I wouldn’t waste your breath,” his answer inflated and Will took it as another sarcastic tirade.

  “Right. Well, I’ll certainly remember the time I was imprisoned with a mad man who claimed to be a lord while pissing himself.” Will snorted, leaning against a wall and looking for a clean spot where he could sit.

  “No, I meant it. I am a Lord, I am the Lord Governor of the Jamaica colony.” Alton huffed.

  “Yes Sir. Let me fetch the Endurance off the bottom, Lord Governor, and we will get to rendering honors.” Will quipped, tired of the conversation by now.

  “You served aboard the Endurance?” the filthy lord demanded.

  “Not originally, I was assigned as first Lieutenant aboard the Valor.” Will said, finally finding a spot to plant his seat.

  “I gave special orders for the H.M.S Valor to search for a missing merchant ship upon their arrival to Nassau. The Carolina Shepherd, I believe it was,” he spat, leveling his stare at William.

  Will’s mind went into a race, who else could know this but the man who signed the order?

  “How did you get here?” Will asked, still guarding against some evil jest he suspected was coming.

  “Oh, I’ve been working my way to this for a good while I suppose. A year since I was approached by that Mr. Sladen, months and weeks now whilst things have gone all awry.” Geor Alton babbled, gesturing his hands while he spoke.

  “Sladen. Tim Sladen? An American?” Will asked with a quickening pulse as his temper began to rise.

  “Oh yes, that’s the devil. You’ve met?

  “Met him? I saw him kill Admiral Sharpe. He and his men ambushed our shore party, we lost half our compliment of marines. Wait? You were working WITH this man?” Will’s anger grew, rising up into his voice.

  “Why yes lad. I hadn’t much choice in the matter. These are powers you cannot even comprehend, let’s not complicate our last hours, why fret about it now?” the governor waved at him, a gesture he knew dismissing him to silence.

  “Or, Lord Governor, you can answer my questions. Perhaps enlightening me to what in the King’s bloody name created such a blunder of things.” Will seethed through clenched jaw.

  “Oh, the King bloody well knows what’s occurring. Who do you think cleared the way for this sailor?”

  “What? The King cleared the way for what? What are you talking about?” Will snapped, drawing a confused look from the ranting Lord.

  “You really don’t know what this is all about? The slave trade boy, Parliament in all their wisdom passed the abolition of the slave trade last year. Against the wishes of our monarch.” Geor babbled through his labored breathing, “After the rebels in America won their independence, he cannot afford more unrest, nor look weak in the face of Bonaparte. So, he instructed a more, well, discreet method.”

  Will sat with his back pressed into a corner of the cell, staring into the face of the deposed Governor. The knots he expected in his stomach did not come, only a tingle into the palms of his hands, a heightened awareness of the sounds surrounding him. The shock of this revelation fell flat, and Will knew it was because somewhere inside, he had suspected something of this nature all along. Ever since the day he met with Captain Grimes on the bow of the Valor, a lurking unrest had haunted him. Then a thought struck Will and his hands began to clench.

  “You knew of this. All of it. And you let this Sladen murder the Admiral? You let him fire on the fleet? Do you have any idea how many souls were lost in the harbor that day?” Will’s tone rose into shouts, evoking a tremble from the Governor.

  “No, lad, no, Sladen took me captive. When the Admiral sent a shore party into the prison camp, Sladen thought I had betrayed him to steal a large payment. I had no part in any of that. When the fleet was under fire, I was in a cell in the fort.”

  “So, you say. Lord Alton, this is treason.”

  “Against what? The Crown? Use your head boy! Who do you think arranged for this?” Geor shouted in reply, leaning forward in a struggle against his gut. “You have no idea what you are stepping in son. You would be best served to forget this mess, die with a clear head.”

  “I don’t intend to go quietly Governor. You may have surrendered your honor, but I refuse. Whether this was your doing Lord Alton or the King’s, it is treason and I will not go along with this.” Will glowered, rising to his feet.

  “What exactly do you think you are going to do lad? You are a prisoner, same as me. They will kill us both, it’s only a matter of when.” Geor snorted, prodding his finger in Will’s direction.

  Under his feet Will could feel the Maiden shift course in a hard turn, prompting him to brace himself on the bulkhead at his side. In the cell next to his, Will could hear several of his men topple over.

  “Governor, you’re going to explain this to me. How does this operate? How have these arrangements been made?” Will said as he straightened from the ship’s lurching turn.

  “I don’t see why I would. I told you, I intend to spend my last moments at ease,” his driveling speech cut short when Will’s boot set firmly against his throat.

  “You’re going to tell me everything Geor, or you will die here, at my hand, traitor.” Will seethed, pressing his boot into the Lord’s neck until his face began to change color, then removing it suddenly to a fury of coughing and spit.

  “What? What is it you want to know?” Geor hacked through wheezing coughs.

  “How is the American involved?” Will pressed, raising his voice higher.

  “He works for an apparatus called ‘the order’, he is their chosen representative.”

  “The Order?”

  “A combination of both American southerners and British Lords of the King’s choosing. They have met twice now and their next council approaches soon.” Alton wheezed, still clutching at his throat in dramatic fashion.

  “Give me names.” Will demanded.

  “I have none to give, son. I’ve never met a single one of them, like I said, Mr. Sladen is their sole representative. I don’t even know the date or location of their next meeting,” came the sniveling answer.

  Will stepped away, weighing his position, his options. They were few. Any way he went about things now, if he were to stand by his honor, he would be branded a traitor. If he could somehow ge
t off this ship and return to England unscathed, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Do what you know to be right. Captain Grimes’ words rang through Will’s ears almost as if he were in the room with him. He took a deep breath of the fouled air in the cell, letting it out slowly while stepping towards the cell door.

  “Guard!” he called out, “Get Trina down here, or your Captain. There’s something they need to hear.”

  H.M.S Valor

  27 Sept 1808

  17 Degrees 34 minutes N, 76 Degrees 14’ W

  Salt water sprayed in the wind as the hull of the Valor slid through the waves, her sails stood taut, harnessing the wind in their haste northward toward the smoke plume on the horizon. On the quarterdeck, Cobb paced between rails checking course and wind, eyeballing sail and line and helm. The gradual approach toward the ominous column of smoke slanting upward into the sky maddened him further with every passing heartbeat. His mind was wholly consumed by verifying the doom of the Endurance. Each glance and look from sailors on deck brought amplified his mistrust of the men around him, making him manic to a point of intolerance.

  The morning sun had brought no comfort, even though the night had an edge of chill, it laid bare the frayed looks and distraught temperament of a crew he no longer trusted. And he was beginning to see the feeling was mutual. He turned on his heel, making another swift plot across deck to face the sun.

  “Sail! North of the wreckage, heading north by west!” The forward lookout called down.

  Before the call was repeated Cobb was off in a run to the bow. His looking glass in hand, he weaved between crewmen as they gathered around to catch a glimpse for themselves. He extended his glass and raised it to his eye, scanning from left to right over the debris field where the smoke continued rising from scattered flotsam and a hulk of ship still protruding from the water’s surface. At first pass he saw nothing, empty horizon and smoke. Then, edging out from the pillar of thick black and gray wafting from the water in a slanting cone from the wind, he caught a glimpse of her. She was angling away from their approach and using the smoke screen to cover her movement. Cobb turned skyward to the lookout.

  “What can you see of her?” he shouted.

  “Just the mainsail Sir. She’s blocked by the smoke!” the lookout called back with a shrug.

  Cobb gritted his teeth in frustration, wanting to rap the sailor across the mouth. His frustrations becoming more and more apparent to the crew standing around him. His gaze fell to the deck and then lifted to the men around him.

  “Well! If we can’t see them yet what are you lurking about for! Back to work!” he screamed, flailing his arms before making a threatening grasp on the hilt of his sword. He turned back up toward the lookout, “Call out as soon as you can see her colors!”

  “Aye Sir.” the reply fell flat onto the deck while Cobb looked aft and stomped his way toward the helm.

  Cobb trudged his way past sailors tending lines and the petty officers minding them. Each giving him glances with a varying degree of both fear and contempt. By the time he reached the helm, Cobb could feel the eyes of every hand on his back. He quickly wheeled about, facing back to the bow only to find the men at their tasks. Am I going mad, he thought to himself while watching the activity aloft. Sailors in the rigging seemed occupied with their minor adjustments, coaxing every bit of speed they could from the Valor. On deck it was more of the same, hands were either absorbed in their tasks or looking out over the bow. “Keep it together lad, you’re cracking up.” Cobb grumbled under his breath.

  The wafting pillar of smoke drew nearer and nearer as the Valor cut their way north, the smell of soot and burning wood thickening as they passed the debris field off the larboard rail. Cobb examined the protruding hulk of ship as it bobbed at the surface, its surface spotted with flames and smoke. Even through the hazy field of smoke he could make out the distinct figure carved beneath the protruding bowsprit. Her lovely figure was being consumed by flames gnawing away at the wooden bodice, the face already lost to a blackened char, she was all that remained of the Admiral’s ship the H.M.S Endurance. Cobb felt a presence step beside him along the rail and looked to see the hollow face of Mr. Sladen.

  “That’ll be the end of it. A failed rebellion.” Cobb announced, loud enough for crew around him to hear.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure, Mr. Cobb.” Tim replied with his signature drawl. Cobb turned to face him, irritated by his reproach.

  “Cobb! She’s flying a black banner!” the aft lookout called down, just as Cobb was about to berate the American. His mouth froze, still beginning to form words when the cry came down from above. He exchanged a look with Tim and grew more irritated when he found that his alarm was met by a glance of indifference from the American.

  “Do you intend to engage them?” Tim asked with a wily grin. Cobb squinted at the question, rubbing his chin and poking in his mind at what the American could be getting at.

  “Yes. She is flying a black banner. Of course we are.” Cobb snorted.

  “Keeping up appearances?” Tim quipped.

  “What are you saying? Just bloody be plain about it! I’ve had enough of your sniveling weasel speak.” Cobb’s grumble grew into a shout.

  “I’m only observing. It is curious that a man in the service of the Royal Navy would take so much joy in seeing the Admiral’s ship destroyed,” his tone was elevated and Cobb could sense he was being baited, though he couldn’t see to what end.

  “The Admiral was in open rebellion; I’ve told you this.” Cobb rebuked, noting that sailors on deck were beginning to take notice of the exchange.

  “And I’ve told you, privately, that pirates were the true cause behind the unrest in Kingston. But you have obviously not informed your crew! What exactly are you trying to accomplish out here? Have you led all these men into a mutiny against their appointed commander for some personal mission of revenge?” Tim’s voice was now raised so every hand aboard could hear. “My only intention is to recover property belonging to the East India Trading Company, as I was hired to. It appears to me that you have some motive of secret agenda Mr. Cobb. These fine men aboard deserve an explanation!”

  “What? What are you saying? No, the Admiral was attempting…” Cobb began.

  “A what? The Admiral was attempting a rebellion? To what end Mr. Cobb? Stealing gold? Does that seem plausible to any of you?” Tim shouted aloud, gesturing to the sailors looking on.

  “You snake bastard!” Cobb hissed under his breath. “Clap him in irons and lead him below!”

  A moment of hesitation passed, while the crew of the Valor looked on to the quarreling men, unmoving. Tension mounted through the silence as Cobb looked around to the crew hesitating against his order. His face flushed, growing hot against the wind and his temples began to throb with his racing pulse. Looking around him, Cobb saw confusion in the men instead of resolve.

  “I said clap him in irons and lead him below! What in the bloody name of Mary are you waiting for? An invitation?” his voice cracked as sailors gathered around him, seemingly unconcerned with his tirade.

  “You’ve forgotten an important detail of maintaining order on a ship Mr. Cobb.” Tim said with a widening smile as the sailors began to circle behind him.

  “And what is that?” Cobb stammered.

  “Once you mutiny against a commander without good cause, eventually, it will be you next.” Tim said. Cobb didn’t have time to react. From both side sailors approached and seized his arms, preventing him from drawing his weapon. In an instant his head was covered in a burlap hood and only fleeting small glimpses of the outside world were available to his eyes through the gaps between its course threads. An impact along the back of his neck and head shot blinding pain wrapping around his skull, dropping him to his knees. He began to protest, but a second impact struck between his shoulders on his back, sending him sprawling across the hard-wooden deck. Before he could get his hands under his torso to lift himself up his arms were grabbed again, and he was bound wri
st to wrist behind his back.

  “This man has made mutineers of all of you! Unknowingly, you men trusted his word. But I am here to tell you now that you have been deceived! I’ve told you the truth as I know it and too late it seems to save the Admiral or Lieutenant Pike, but follow me and I will do everything I can to deliver you all from the gallows!” Tim shouted over the gathered crew. His speech was met with a quick cheer of assenting shouts. “Those pirates have sunk the Endurance and robbed them of payments to be made to the Lords in ownership of the East India Company. Follow me and we will exact revenge on them for the loss of your countrymen and recover that payment, for which you will be handsomely rewarded!” More cheers and shouts followed. Cobb tried to shout his dissent, but it was lost under the burlap and as the voice quieted a single kick landed in his ribs, stealing away his breath.

  In the clamor of shouts and cheers Cobb was lifted onto unsteady feet. He struggled to breathe through the pain in his ribs, which shot through his torso with each attempt to inhale. He could feel hands all around him, shoving and prodding at him and then there was a driving sharp point pressed hard against his back.

  “And what do we do with this one?” a voice shouted out above the others.

  “Throw him over for the cold depths!” another answered.

  “No! Hang him! He committed mutiny and brought us all along for the ride, let him taste the noose!” yet another cried out.

  Cobb’s heart pounded harder and harder with each response while the crew’s appetite to see him dead was voiced. A slight jab from the point in his back prodded him forward to some grizzly fate he could not yet see. Footfalls on the wooden deck around him urged him on through driving mystery hits on the bag covering his head. He stumbled, but before he could fall hands were grabbing at him, forcing him to his feet and the point in his back continued urging him on. The process repeated several times as they marched him blindly up the deck, Cobb knew they were moving toward the bow, but he couldn’t see enough detail through the tiny holes in the bag to collect where he was exactly. The voices around him hushed slightly and the point pulled away from his back. Hands that had been tugging his blouse pulled away and Cobb was left standing alone with the deck shifting beneath his feet. A sudden hit to his belly doubled him over, driving the wind he had just recovered right back out again followed by another to the back of his legs collapsing him to the deck, driving his knees onto the hard wooden planks.