Heinrich looked at Otto. It had finally been made official; they were proclaimed to be pirates.
Swinging his attention back to Faria, “The words used were pirates?”
“That is correct,” Faria spat out. “Don’t pretend otherwise and act so innocent and almighty,”
“That is where you are dead wrong! We are merely merchant mariners.”
“Do not equate yourself with honest traders! You attacked the British navy. Thus, we attacked a pirate vessel.”
“We are not pirates! Do not slander …” Heinrich’s voice trailed off. He had a sudden thought of how absurd he must seem at the moment to argue this with a rogue like Faria. He decided not to succumb to his emotion’s desires.
“As you say. Nevertheless, you deserve what is coming to you for good reason, where I have been unjustly pronounced guilty of a crime. You have no concept of just and unjust. Why am I even trying to reason with you? This matter is closed,” Heinrich turned on his heels and walked off with Otto right behind.
* * *
It had finally come to this; a decree proclaiming the See Wolf as pirates. The emotional turmoil Heinrich was feeling was overwhelming.
Otto gently grabbed his friend’s arm and said, “Heinrich, Faria was taking a chance that the See Wolf was the ship they were after. Given the general description of the attacking vessel, I see no way the See Wolf could be pinpointed as the culprit. Certainly, there may be a few sailors aboard the naval vessel that could identify our schooner, but what are the odds that those men would ever run into our ship again?”
Heinrich’s anger shot through him and he said, “It does not matter. The point is, how they lie so blatantly! The proclamation probably states that their naval ship had been approached in an aggressive manner and was fired upon without provocation.”
Otto waved his hand in the air dismissing that thought and said, “Of course it is totally one-sided, Heinrich. We knew that would be the case. This is political; blame is always crafted.”
“It would seem to me that every English naval ship will be wary of any schooner that looks like ours,” Heinrich remarked.
“Ja, that is true, but it’s a large body of water and the odds are more in favor of a privateer ship, like Faria’s, finding us than the British navy,” said Otto.
“It is just so outrageous,” Heinrich said shaking his head.
“I realize this is difficult for you to swallow, my friend. Try not to let it affect you for you must maintain a clear head.”
Heinrich nodded in agreement. Their welfare could not be counted on covering-up the battle with the NS da Guia. These two deadly incidences would forever brand them as pirates. The winds of fury had whipped up like a squall, driving hard against them, but not yet having halted their end goal.
“Telling Faria his fate was the harshest pronouncement we have ever had to make,” Otto remarked.
“If you think that was tough, wait until the morning when we put the rope around his neck.”
“Harsh as it is, he deserves the sentence. He must pay for his crimes.”
“If it weren’t for him, our men would still be alive. Otto, it has to be done.”
“I do not disagree with you, Heinrich,” Otto replied. “The actual hanging is not easy to exact.”
“We still have to decide who the executioner will be.”
They walked towards Günter’s cabin discussing where they were going to sail the Portuguese ship to. “Found any likely places, Günter,” asked Heinrich promptly as he stepped into the small quarters.
“Guten Abend, captain. This chart shows St. John’s harbor within a large bay on the western part of the island.”
“Herr Dietz, we need to decide where to hold the Portuguese ship before we sail to the harbor.”
Peering at the chart, Otto commented, “This inlet right here at the north portion of the bay is large enough for it to stay hidden in the meantime.”
“Sounds like a plausible plan, Otto. You just earned your pay for this month,” said Heinrich flippantly.
“You still owe me my pay for last month,” Otto reminded him.
“Ah, my dear Otto. What is money between friends? Just a promise here and there,” Heinrich sarcastically said.
“Unlikely that I will forget soon, my dear friend,” he reciprocated. “I’ll hit you up for it in San Juan where I have plans to find me another lady.”
“Another lady? When did you meet any on this entire voyage?”
“Don’t start with me, Heinrich. We have more serious things to discuss.”
“You’re right; we do at that. We will leave the jesting for better times,” Heinrich conceded. “All right then, Herren. Please make the plan, Günter; we will need it at first light.”
“Ja, captain. Consider it done.”
“It’s getting late, and it has been a very long day,” commented Heinrich. “Not the kind we had planned for.”
“We could not have known they had planned to assault our ship, Heinrich,” Otto said.
“At least we were ready for them. Imagine if we were … no let’s not even go there; the thought of it is much too agonizing. I am taking one more stroll of the ship and check with the crew, and then I am turning in.”
The sun was a bright red orb on the horizon and was just about to dip over the edge. Night would arrive within minutes. Heinrich slowly strode along the main deck on his way to the bow. He glanced upward into the mass of sails and rigging, searching for the lookouts high above. One sailor gestured with a hand and Heinrich waved in return. His pride in his crew came sauntering back. In spite of the lost and wounded men, he was elated with the crew’s fighting skills. They had clashed with men who he assumed had more fighting experience and his men had beat them. His men had fought with the hearts of lions; furiously and ruthlessly. He still could visualize the six boarding teams surging over the bulwarks and with relentless force pouncing upon the Portuguese crew showing them what wrathful destruction was all about. What a magnificently trained crew he had. He felt a strange awkwardness about today. How could something so terrible an incident also make him feel good about how his crew fought? His mind promptly answered back, ‘If they did not fight as they did, they would be dead.’ He hoped that the sale of the Portuguese ship would be quick so he could bestow upon his crew a worthwhile gift for their loyalty and devotion.
The matter of Ernst and the other sailors who still wanted off the ship suddenly sprang to his mind and put a damper on the thoughts of victory. They had to contend with them for a couple more days before leaving them in San Juan. They could find their own way back to Germany or wherever they wanted to go after that, and woe to any of them that blabbered about the incident with the Portuguese ship. He mentally noted to remind all of those men to keep their mouths shut about the matter or …, or what? Face the wrath of his punishment? What was he becoming through this journey? He came up to a small group of sailors at the starboard bulwark smoking their pipes and casually chatting amongst themselves.
“Evening, captain,” they greeted him. He reciprocated and stood a while chewing the fat with them. He always felt better when he was with his men.
* * *
A chill hung in the air, enhanced by the ocean mist. It was less than an hour after sunrise the next day and the main deck aboard the Portuguese ship, the NS da Guia, was filled with men moving about constantly in their attempt to stay warm. Besides a small crew to sail the frigate and the usual complement of section heads, they consisted of most of the assault boarding units that had assailed the enemy ship. Everyone was discussing the punishments about to be dispensed upon the Portuguese crew. The majority of the See Wolf crew was sailing a half a mile in the distance. They would not participate in the morning’s activity of witnessing the punishments. Heinrich had decided that it was best for the rest of his crew to be spared anymore dread. Upon advisement, he decided that the boarders, who were involved in the brunt of the fighting, should be present.
From the forward
hold, the enemy crew, close to a hundred, and their second officer were being escorted by armed boarders to amidships. Many were wounded badly enough and had to be carried. For lack of space, they were directed aft to the stern. Many of the See Wolf’s men had to find standing room just off the main deck to keep the prisoners grouped together. The deck was completely full.
Drope and Otto were making his way through the crowd to the main mast. Along with them came several sailors, two of them carrying a long wooden spar and another a ladder. One sailor set up the ladder against the mast and climbed up, while two of them held up one end of the spar so it could be placed into a nesting bracket attached to the mast. The sailor on the ladder guided it into the bracket and secured it much like a flagpole in a metal holder. The spar, which was six feet in length, jutted out from the mast pointing to the bow. A metal spike had been inserted into the spar at the end sticking straight up. A thick rope was uncoiled on deck and tossed up. The lone sailor above caught it and pulled up more length, then proceeded to toss the rope over the spar onto the outward end of the spike. One of the two below grabbed one end and tied it off to the mast pole. The other end of the rope was in plain view for all to see – a noose dangled in plain sight.
Gasps and murmurs could be heard from the throng of prisoners when they saw the hangman’s rope ready for its victim. The prisoners looked aghast. Otto stepped toward the prisoners, and in English, he tried to communicate that the rope was not for them. His was not understood until he told them, “Faria, Faria” while pointing to the rope. The young first officer Santos who knew a little English asked, “For only Faria?”
“Ja, for Faria only,” Otto confirmed. Santos spoke to the others who calmed down but still looked at the scene before them with depredation of what other punishment was in store for the rest of them.
Attention turned to the forward hold, as the sailors craned their necks to see their Portuguese captain being forcibly dragged across the deck by two sailors. His hands were tied behind his back, and he was wailing as if a troubled infant.
The sailors halted in front of the rope. They were holding Faria up for he would surely collapse to the deck if they let him go. Drope stood waiting, his face set in stone. He stepped to Faria, who wouldn’t hold his head up as he wept incessantly.
‘A coward to the very end,’ thought Heinrich. He took him by the hair, pulling his head up and glared at Faria, who tried to pull away. Heinrich was fed up with his antics and slapped him across his face. It only succeeded in a brief break from Faria’s sobbing. The decks were deathly quiet as men watched.
Heinrich did not want to send Faria off into eternity with fanfare; just a quick hanging of this despicable man was his intention. He did not relish what he was doing, but at the same time wanted to exact justice for the deaths this despicable man caused. “Do you have anything you want to say before we carry out the punishment?” he shouted to be heard over the wind gusts. The stricken man didn’t answer.
Deciding not to ask again to avoid prolonging the proceeding, Heinrich tried to place the noose around Faria’s neck, but the condemned man wouldn’t keep still, trying to prevent the inevitable as long as he could. Once the noose was around his neck, Heinrich tightened it and moved the knot to one side.
Last night he had decided to do this himself. As the captain of the ship, it was only right to take on this responsibility. The other end of the rope was held by two sailors. They had volunteered their services, telling their section heads that they wanted to choke the life out of the Portuguese captain for the death of their closest mates. Reiner had shared the men’s wishes to Heinrich, and he had agreed to let the two men take part in the hanging.
“Captain Faria,” Heinrich shouted, “you have been sentenced to death by hanging due to your actions in attacking a merchant vessel in peaceful waters for sordid gain and the murder of four innocent men. May God grant mercy on your soul!”
As soon as he announced the sentence, he gave a nod to the sailors, and together they pulled vigorously hoisting Faria up until the man’s feet were several feet off the deck. His wailings ceased as his neck was choked by the pressure of the noose causing him to gag. His legs thrashed furiously in the air. Holding the rope taut, a fourth sailor curled it around a metal fastener on the mast pole. Once secured, the men released their grip. Faria was still kicking his legs and gagging. His face was flushed red as the oxygen was being choked off. His head was bent to one side, and his eyes bulged. While most of the men’s attention was locked upon the hanging man, some turned their heads away, having seen enough violence. A final shuddering of muscles and Faria became entirely still, swinging gently back and forth in the morning breeze.
Heinrich motioned for Santos to follow him to starboard. Santos was fearful of facing a deadly punishment and looked terrified. Drope told the young officer he was only to translate for him and had to settle the man’s nerves. They made their way to the railing, and he told Santos to face his men. Then he grabbed a shroud line and hauled himself up on the bulwark to address the prisoners. He looked over the shocked faces of the Portuguese crewmen before he said a word. He knew hanging their captain made a strong statement about yesterday’s attack.
“We are not barbarians. You have been given leniency. You will be sent off in your own rowboats with a few days’ rations of food and water. We will give you sailing charts. You are to head north to Santo Domingo; the closest land. You are never to speak of this incident for fear of punishment.” Santos translated as best as he could. Despite letting them go, none of the Portuguese seemed happy to be forced off their ship to row small boats to the nearest landmass. Much grumbling was heard among them, and begrudging glares cast toward their captors. This irritated the See Wolf’s men.
Herr Huber, have these men taken to the boats. I want them on their way immediately. Have them cut their captain down and take him with them.”
“Jawohl, captain.”
Fritz along with armed boarders began to split the prisoners into smaller groups and herd them to the boats.
The Portuguese sailors took their captain down and carried him. They were provided roughly sketched charts of their route. Then they lowered the boats, which were already stocked with provisions and climbed in. Without any further delay, Fritz ordered the men at the oars to begin stroking. Fritz watched to make sure they were heading in the right direction. Several hundred yards away, the men in the rowboat tossed the body of the captain over the side. Fritz watched the scene. It made sense; why lug around the body of someone they had no use for nor love of. After all, it was their captain who had forced them into the precarious situation they were currently in. Fritz had a sailor watch with a scope to ensure the boat stayed on course.
Turning his attention to the crew, Heinrich told them his plan to sell the Portuguese ship and to divide the spoils amongst all the men. The crew reacted with jubilation at the news. None of them had ever been bestowed with such a splendid gift.
“You deserve it,” Heinrich shouted above the clamor. “Now I must ask you to go back to your duties as we sail for St. John Island. There we will drop off the Portuguese wounded and the cabin boys. Then we will be on our way to San Juan. Your section leaders will brief you on the details. Thank you again for a job well done. That will be all.” Heinrich departed the quarterdeck. Otto took command of running the ship and began barking orders.
* * *
The See Wolf slowly made its way into the harbor of Cruz Bay on St. John’s Island. The See Fuchs was patrolling a couple of miles off the coast, keeping a lookout for British ships. If it happened to spot one, she would make a run for Cruz Bay to signal the See Wolf of the danger. The Portuguese ship, the NS da Guia, was manned by a small crew headed by Waldo Lange, who succeeded Ernst Mayer as the second boatswain. He had fifteen sailors with him, all armed.
All the valuables from the captured ship, such as silver and gold articles and coinage no doubt plundered from other attacks, and small-arms weapons would be stashed in the cave
that held the pearls at the island village of Paraíso. Only a handful knew about the hideout. The crew was only told that the valuables were in safe keeping.
“Only you and the elders will know of this,” Heinrich had told the chief elder Ramon Abril, who had agreed and told the captain not to worry. He would ensure the safekeeping of the valuables.
The See Wolf docked. They had no intention of staying any longer than the time it would take to drop off the wounded Portuguese sailors and two of the cabin boys. The others had expressed an interest in staying as part of the galley crew. Three hours later the ship made its way out of the harbor to rendezvous with the other two ships and set sail for San Juan. Everything had gone smoothly.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
A BRUSH with DEATH
Sailing close to the shore of a familiar tiny nearby island the See Wolf schooned on the water at a steady rate. This was one of many geographical points that put them on a course due south to San Juan, Puerto Rico. During the last hour, the wind had settled to a gentle breeze in the ever-changing character of the temperamental Caribbean weather condition. The ship came abreast to a massive rocky crag just off starboard as Ebert Fiedler was in the process of lighting his pipe when his close mate, Kurt Bach, the other helmsman standing off to one side let out a forceful curse. Fiedler’s head swung to his friend, seeing Bach pointing toward the bow, his arm stretched out, stiff as a lance. Bach’s mouth was agape, his face a mask of terror, but no other sound came forth, as if the man had been stricken by lightning, and forever suspended in time. Fiedler dropped his pipe in dreadful reaction to the menacing sight his bulging eyes took in. As experienced response would have it, he promptly broke out of his enveloped fright and screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Sound the alarm!”
The loud command jostled Bach out of his stupor, and the sailor leaped to the bell stand, reaching for the short rope. “Enemy ship dead ahead!” Ebert’s gravelly shrill yell emitted across the main deck as the nearest sailors jerked about looking forward. Instantly they in turn also began shouting the same warning just as the bell started its clangorous dinging. The alarm was relayed across all decks as men rushed to mast shrouds to climb aloft amongst the bountiful maze of rigging. They would move fastidiously to sail lines attempting to control the vessel as they kept their ears perked for further commands.
Winds of Fury Page 49