With Ebert at the wheel, the See Wolf began tacking to port plowing to the open sea. As Fiedler worked the rudder, Bach took up the commands already fully aware the schooner had no way to stop in time as a British fourth-rated ship of the line slid through the water only several hundred yards dead ahead having skillfully caught the merchant vessel by surprise and unprepared. The English colors rippled in the soft breeze as the warship was now fully exposed, having appeared from behind the spit of the rocky promontory, and had the See Wolf trapped dead to rights. The schooner was descending upon the deadly apparition in the form of a very real and sizeable British warship boasting twenty-four cannon muzzles poking out her gun ports arrayed at her at point-blank range. If the massive schooner couldn’t avoid the duel-level warship, even at slow speed, it would plow into her beam with tons of displacement, and would most likely break the ship in half. Neither vessel would be the victor if this happened. Sounds of running boots fast approached the helm.
“Heave to! Heave to, and broad reach, Herr Feidler!” shouted Heinrich as he took the steps two at a time to the helm.
“Heaving to, and broad reach! Trim the sails!” shouted Ebert, and Bach took up the call to shout out the same orders. The commands echoed all over the ship as sailors relayed the order, and scurried about in haste to trim sails. Like ants, men were aloft moving hand-over-fist on ratlines, and more running to get within the rigging on shrouds and struts, working halyard lines to get the sails in irons as quickly as was possible. All that would take a lot of time. They did not have the required space between the two ships to bring her to. Ebert drastically wheeled about tacking to port until the rudder ran its course until it could go no further. The schooner turned slowly at the current six to eight knots. Even so, the hull sounds of wood timbers were creaking violently with the ship coming about as if the ship was about to fall over the edge of the ocean. It was way too late to make a run for it with the British warship so near. Coming about, hard-a-lee, the vessel would soon be in a reach position, and drift with a beam wind. Hence the ship came to a hove to, her stern facing the warship’s port guns.
Otto and Günter had reached the helm and came to stand near Drope. Their captain stood with his hands on the railing aft of the helm wearing a heavy scowl. To him, they might as well have been slapped squarely in the face. They glared at the British warship, which had trapped them so abruptly. She was almost adrift facing the See Wolf with her deadly battery of guns. She saw no need to fire as she had the schooner dead in the water, and soundly at her mercy. The ship’s name, HMS Hampshire, seemed freshly painted on her arch board. Drope noticed but cared less what her name was. He was seething as he was sure his men were. The British ship captain had taken a dangerous chance colliding with the See Wolf. His mind was spiking with intense thoughts, “Who would attempt such a foolish maneuver that surely would have had grave consequences for both vessels upon a collision? Someone very desperate or a complete brainless wit. This was more than frustrating; it was insane.” Any way one looked at it, it was as if fate had struck them down out of a personal vendetta. From the corner of his eye, he saw Otto and Günter to one side leering at the enemy ship.
The See Fuchs had been dispatched ahead several hours earlier and was making headwind many miles away to San Juan. Their task was to reconnoiter with news of any dangers. They had planned to rendezvous early the next day. This warship had caught them entirely by surprise. Heinrich felt so defenseless. It was like being caught without clothes in a public venue; utterly exposed. Was it a chance encounter?
“This is most disturbing,” Otto remarked. “It’s almost as if she was waiting for us, knew our exact course; astounding.”
“You may find it astounding. I find it demoralizing and wretched!” replied Heinrich. “She’s got us cornered with our pants down but could she already know who we are? Has there been enough time to notify all their ships in the region about our incident with their navy frigate?”
“Apparently so; why else would they set upon us so forcefully?” stated Otto, not at all in the form of a question.
“Because it’s the same despicable behavior as the other British ship,” protested Heinrich as he ground his teeth together in anger. “This is the way the British bastards are.”
“Perhaps it is their way of welcoming us to the region,” stated Günter dryly.
“I am shocked they haven’t fired on us,” Heinrich lamented as he continued seething while watching what the British were planning to do.
“Not such a shock at all, captain. I say we are about to get boarded,” stated old Günter with a smirk, which both men didn’t understand.
Otto glared at the sailing master. “Boarded you say? You do mean blasted to pieces to meet our Maker?”
“Nein meine, Herren. She would have already begun firing her guns by now not taking a chance for us to beat them to the punch. She means to board us.”
Turning his attention to Heinrich, Günter said, “Don’t you see? They are not sure who we are. They may think we are that infamous schooner that shot and ran, but they’re not certain.”
“Well, they must be awfully desperate to block our path so drastically close, and risk a collision,” Otto shot back.
Drope thought about Günter’s words. “Günter may have it right. If that is true, we still may have a way out of this fiasco.”
“When they board us, they will have no doubt who we are. They will see our cannons, and a ship-full of weaponry,” he said out loud still looking out over the open water thinking. “They can certainly see our gun ports already.”
“All right, but plenty of merchant vessels have cannons. Not as many as we do, however.” countered Günter.
Otto exclaimed, “There is no way we can hide the large arsenal we have onboard. They will find them when they come and search the ship. And how do you expect us to hide that second armory over there; put a curtain over it? No way can we -”
Cutting him off, Drope had another idea.
“Put a boat in the water quickly!” Heinrich shouted to Otto, and he broke into a run toward the main deck. “Diego! Diego!” he shouted as he spied the Spaniard standing nearby eying the British warship. “Get Reiner and Bruno. We have to row over to the British quickly! And all three of you, arm yourselves only with your blades and a pistol each. We want to look like armed merchants, not pirates.”
Diego had whirled around at Heinrich’s voice calling him and was flabbergasted at the instructions given, but knowing the captain well enough, he wasn’t going to argue … wonder and worry yes, but not argue the point. He figured Heinrich had another card up his sleeve, which could be anything. The young German had quite an imagination; cunning imagination. Diego ran off shouting for Reiner and Bruno. Otto had sped off and ordered men to lower a boat. He also had no idea what Heinrich had in mind. He was shaking his head in befuddlement and irritation at Drope’s sudden scheme. And he was absolutely convinced it was exactly that. What else would it be but yet another typical lamebrain ploy coming from this impudent young man?
“Ha, experienced sea captain, my arse!” he muttered loud enough for some of the men to hear as they looked at him with quizzical looks. Otto caught himself and stared them back down. The men looked away; they didn’t want to infuriate their first officer for he’d have them toil at all sorts of low-scum tasks. Then again, most of them were probably thinking; “Would it even come to that with the British now here to put them all in chains and hang them as fast as they could line them up on the gallows.”
With the rowboat lowering in the water, and Reiner, Diego and Bruno gathered around, Heinrich had some final words with Otto.
“While we are away to deal with the British, place everyone at their stations ready to fight. I don’t think anyone on board desires to hand themselves over or am I assuming too much?”
Otto shot him a hard look and sedately said, “They are not willing to let the British decide their fate. These men are fellow mates for goodness sake, who only want to pl
y their skills on a merchant ship.”
“None of us asked for this, Otto.”
“Especially these men. They signed up to eke out a simple living, not to play soldier. I feel terribly bad for them.”
“As I do. I will try –”
“As we all do,” stated Reiner. “We are in this together. Every one of us has decided to stay the course, and to that end, we stand.”
Drope looked at Reiner and nodded. “Thank you, Reiner. I will try everything in my power to get us out of this mess, even if it means sacrificing myself in some way.” And to Otto, “Trust is just one thing you and I have always had. In my stead do what is best for the crew, my friend.”
Otto stared at Heinrich. A frail smile was all he could muster at the moment to support his best friend as Drope was about to put his life on the line for the entire crew by going over to the British warship. Otto’s mind was a mix of jumbled thoughts; none of them positive ones. Was this the end of the line for their ardent merchant endeavor? Was it the end of a precious bond, more as brothers than just friendship, which had evolved through the years, and had grown deeply through thick and thin?
He cast his gaze to sailors all about the ship. He recognized the uneasiness of their present plight. Even more so, he could smell the fright the men exuded with downcast expressions as they were deliberating the same anticipating horror of becoming prisoners with certain death looming on their life’s horizon. A gigantic shroud of fear drifted over the decks of the See Wolf covering the schooner with the premonition of gloom.
Drope was just about to climb down to the boat when Anton’s elephantine hand caught him by the arm and held him up. Heinrich knew right away by the hand size it was Krause, his personal protector. As large as the hand was, the big man held his arm gently. He just wanted to get the captain’s attention.
“Captain, you were not planning to leave without me, were you?” the giant man said as a statement, and not a question, as he gave Drope a leery stare.
“Of course not, Anton; wouldn’t think of it. Come – get in. We will pay the English a visit together. Promise me you’ll be a good fellow, and act with good manners when we are aboard. We do not want to rock the boat.”
Anton quietly uttered a low growl as an answer and climbed down behind his captain. Diego, Reiner, and Bruno scrambled down the side rope ladder, and into the boat. Anton and Bruno took up the oars and pushed away from the hull. Proceeding toward the ship-of-the-line some three hundred yards away, they spied a rowboat from the British ship being lowered to the water.
“Give it all you got, men. Somehow, we have to convince the boarding party that it is not necessary to inspect our ship,” said Drope.
Reiner and Diego took up oars and helped row.
“Whoever that is leading them means to board us, and if he is adamant, I see no way to stop them without force. Then the cat’s out of the bag, and we will all go down the drink,” remarked Bruno.
“Although I hate the thought of more bloodshed, the men will go down fighting, Heinrich. I have no doubt. I venture that none will allow capture by the British,” said Reiner.
“Yes, I’m afraid you’re right. That’s exactly what I do not want to happen; the crew will suffer greatly against their guns,” replied Drope solemnly. “Not only are the men facing all the British portside guns, but they are also at a great disadvantage against their experienced gun crews.”
“Don’t underestimate the men’s ability to think and fight as they were trained,” stated Reiner.
He wasn’t sure if Reiner was only saying this to give him hope or did the consummate soldier really know the true capabilities of the crew, and believe they honestly had a chance against what Drope considered a more superior force.
“I do hope it won’t have to be proven out. I do not want any of us to slip under the waves for good knowing we have so much opportunity ahead if just given the chance.”
They had rowed well within a hundred yards of the HMS Hampshire when the British rowboat, loaded with Royal Marines and three others was coming on, and they were making a beeline for them.
“Row right up to them so I can speak with whoever is in charge,” said Heinrich. “I trust all of your judgments but let me do the talking. If you have anything to say that would help our cause, please do so, but be extra careful with the words you say. We want to be seen as unassuming sailors.”
The four men acknowledged their captain. With no time to discuss what exactly Drope had in mind, their nerves tensed as the two boats closed rapidly. Heinrich faced forward looking past the approaching rowboat, in the background the warship’s decks were lined with naval seamen staring in their direction. Most were the gun crews manning the cannons on the top deck. Red-coated musket-armed marines squeezed in spots all along the expanse from bow to stern.
With twenty yards to the British rowboat, Heinrich raised an arm and proceeded to wave them over. One of the officers was seen saying something to the rowers, and the boat began to angle in their direction.
“Gentlemen! Gentlemen, I am Captain Heinrich Drope; at your service,” he shouted out in an attempted act of syrupy politeness. “Please do come and tarry a moment with me.”
They drew near with the two boats coming even, the oarsmen back paddled to bring them to a halt. The See Wolf’s men as on cue broke into broad smiles, nods, and waved in greeting. Besides the four salty-looking sailors rowing the boat, there were six armed Marines, two junior naval officers, and a British army colonel. This struck Heinrich a bit odd. The army officer seemed out of place. With open and outstretched arms and smiling eyes, Drope immediately seized the opportunity and addressed the senior officer – the colonel.
“Kind sir, I am Captain Heinrich Drope of the German merchant ship, See Wolf. I beseech your good judgment, and accept my humblest of apologies for almost colliding with your magnificent warship. Your officer’s superb sailing prowess must be complimented for averting disaster. These men with me are -”
The colonel was looking over Drope and the four men with him with a scowl. Cutting Heinrich off in midsentence, he said tersely, “You know what a huge tragedy you almost caused by your sailing ineptitude? You should be grateful that my ship did not fire on yours. We wouldn’t be having this little chat otherwise.”
A young boy could have correctly understood his scornful attitude. “Hmm,” Drope surmised, “typical conduct of a British officer; snobbish to the core. Why can’t they be somewhat reasonable? Some people are just that cock-sure of their supposed inherent stature in life compared to others.” He readily despised the man’s character, and they hadn’t even finished introducing each other. Heinrich continued to play the act of a meek mariner under the harsh rebuke of the brash colonel.
“You are tremendously fortunate not to be at the bottom of the sea. The last thing of life you and your men would behold would be this lovely island with your final breath.”
With that same impertinent, yet fake naive character that he portrayed at times when wordiness hoped to ply a way around a most baneful obstacle, Drope responded, “But, sir, your assessment of our seaworthiness is complete conjecture on your part. Please allow me to explain …”
“What is there to explain? You do not know your proper place when sailing in waters held tightly by British power. If you were a seasoned sailing captain, you would know without a doubt who has the preeminent rite of passage.”
Lifting both hands shoulder height with palms open to gesture submissiveness, “Lieutenant, it was but an honest mistake; a mere miscalculation, which was quite unintentional I assure you, sir.”
The colonel was seething, and his eyes bored into Heinrich as sharp dagger points.
“Stop this audacious behavior, man! Your considerable ignorance is obvious, and quite irritating. You do not know who you are addressing. I am Colonel Trent Thomas.”
Heinrich dropped his arms down, holding them at his sides in as a posture of obedience.
“My sincerest apology, Herr Colonel. I am
but a humble sailor scraping out a modest living in difficult times. I assure you -”
“Why should I excuse your misguided sailing misjudgment? You sail these waters in security only by the grace of the English crown’s ability to keep the region safe.” Thomas shot back immediately to gain back control of this discourse. “You forget that England possesses the means to rule the seas to the very reaches of every horizon you and others sail. Yes, I do believe we are in control of any saltwater surface our Royal Navy sails on. Who could thwart our presence of power – no one? So, you see our military might on the seas prevails over any other entity met on our travels. Can you expect a German squadron of warships to come to your rescue? Of course not; don’t be such a fool. England rules all the eye sees.”
Drope was having a tough time controlling his temper as this pompous man was belittling him. He pushed his emotions down hard as he thought of his crew’s welfare. He noticed the two naval officers in the boat with the colonel kept as silent as mice, and even seemed to squirm in the presence of this man. He had an inkling that it wasn’t merely due to the rank he held. It was also the man’s disdainful character that had them fidgeting and restless.
“Sir, I am not being argumentative at all about English prowess. We are but simple merchant mariners who strive hard to eke out a measly living. We have no intention to cause anyone harm; especially British ships who patrol the Caribbean to keep it safe from pirating interests. A gallant and proficient military man such as you, sir, surely has already seen that our merchant ship is armed with cannons as many do to protect us from those plundering ruffians. Yet with English naval ships patrolling these waters, we feel much more secure.”
Winds of Fury Page 50