Winds of Fury

by Peter Duysings

  If the colonel was almost speechless as furious as he was, so were the See Wolf’s men. Each cast disbelieving expressions at one another and wondered what Heinrich really had in mind. His antics bordered on buffoonery. Yet, what could they do in their predicament but watch their captain’s plan play out?

  Thomas was so furious that his lips quivered, and several times his mouth opened as if to speak, but only insignificant grunts emitted. It was not like him to be at a loss for words. He felt all eyes were on him, and heard sneers from British sailors. Never had he been openly mocked. Most knew better. If others didn’t already know of his ruthless character, they found out very quickly. It took all his resolve to compose himself, but he finally got control of his senses. He decided he would deal with the officers and the crew later. Right now, all he wanted to do was snuff the life out of this self-believing fanciful merchant captain. He had already decided that hanging was too good for the German seaman, and would be way too long to wait out the formal process to that end.

  “You fancy yourself as some do-gooder, eh, captain?” Thomas said in a gruff tone. You think you have made your case against me? Well, I don’t suppose you have any notion what you have brought about by striking me? I will now -”

  “Hold on there, colonel,” cut in Hennessey. “You can’t be serious to go ahead with what you propose against this man.”

  “Oh, yes I certainly am, captain. He is his own man; in fact, a captain of his own merchant ship. He is no child without sense, although quite compulsive when it comes to mouthing off. We will proceed at once. Please clear the deck now.”

  “This is preposterous! I will document your action, and serve it to your superiors.”

  “You must do your duty, captain. I will not oppose it. And it is not preposterous; it is still part of English law.”

  Drope acted as if he was a bit flabbergasted, and he looked at both Hennessey and the colonel with a dumbfounded expression.

  “What is it, gentlemen? Am I going to be fined a charge for today’s incident?”

  Thomas brought up a hand, covering his mouth, and snickered with pleasure.

  The captain spoke instead. “He means to duel you. Captain Drope, do you understand what I am saying?”

  “Duel? You mean like knights on horseback charging each other?”

  Now the See Wolf’s men could hardly contain themselves, and all four brought hands to their faces to stifle groans by acting as if wiping sweat, and scratching an itch. Captain Hennessey’s face held a sad refrain as did Mr. O’Shea, who slowly shook his head with dismay at what was happening.

  “Captain Drope, please listen to me carefully,” Hennessey continued.

  He was cut off by Thomas’s order for the decks to be cleared immediately.

  “Mr. O’Shea, have the decks cleared at once!”

  “Aye, colonel.”

  O’Shea turned, and motioned to others, and stepped off, while Hennessey continued with Heinrich.

  “As I was saying, English law and custom oblige two people to fight each other in an honorable way to settle a challenge. You did not realize when you struck the colonel in the face that now he is offered a challenge to face you in a duel; a fight. And I am sorry to say that a duel can go as far as death depending on the two duelists.”

  Drope continued to play dumb.

  “All right then, Captain Hennessey, I understand what you have told me. I do not want to go against English rule and custom. I am a man with manners, and will honor your English ways since we are on your ship after all,” Heinrich said nonchalantly, and then balled his fists, and began to mock practice for the fight. Hennessey shook his head, and reached out, placing a hand on Heinrich’s shoulder to get his attention once more.

  “Captain Drope, I have to be quite blunt with you about this duel. This fight is not with fists. It is fought with weapons. Since you were the one that challenged the colonel, he has the choice of weapons. Now you are wearing a sword, sir. Do you know how to use it?”

  “My sword?” Giving Hennessey a smile, he answered. “Yes, of course, I have used my sword. It is a practical instrument for cutting rope onboard ship, and also quite handy at times to cut dense foliage ashore.”

  Captain Hennessey blinked, and felt like … like calling for the ship’s carpenter to start building a coffin.

  “Captain Drope, I am truly sorry that there is no time to provide you even a cursory sword lesson. Have you ever had to use your blade to defend yourself?”

  Drope made as if he was thinking deeply trying to remember a time. Then suddenly his eyes widened and again smiled.

  “Yes, I have indeed, sir. It was just over a year ago when I happened to stumble across a fellow who was in the act of assaulting an older gentleman, and at the time it so happened I was carrying my sword inside its sheath in my hand. As I turned the corner and beheld the crime, both the robber and I startled each other, but I happened to be faster than him as he held a dagger in hand, and I quickly swung down on his head with the sword handle and laid him out cold.”

  Hennessey was speechless. He pulled a hand through his hair. The man did not look well to Heinrich.

  “Are you feeling all right, captain? Perhaps some water?”

  “No, no, I’m all right.”

  He didn’t have the heart to explain to this merchant seaman that today was the last time he would see the sun. The British captain was certain that this German skipper and his crew could not be of the same ship that had tangled with the British naval frigate. The deck was being cleared as the din of men moving, talking, and commands were shouted out.

  “Captain Drope, I promise you I will do all I possibly can under the circumstances to get your men back to your ship and hope that the colonel will allow your crew to sail on.

  “That would be very kind of you, sir. I am looking forward to getting underway as soon as this duel is finished.”

  With shock, Hennessey had to turn his face away from this poor chap. He could not look at the man anymore knowing what his fate would be. Colonel Thomas was not just familiar with any weapon but was an expert at most of them. The captain just hoped now that he would not make the man suffer too much, and put him out of his misery quickly. Slight chance, he thought. Knowing the man too well, he knew the vile officer would most likely play with Drope as a cat with a mouse.

  With so many men onboard the frigate, it took time to make enough space on the main deck for the duel. In the meantime, the colonel had instructed an aide to fetch his dueling weapons from his cabin. The top decks were crammed full with sailors leaving nary a space large enough for a rat to squeeze through. Heinrich had joined his four mates amidships, and they were talking in hushed tones.

  “Capitán, we are quite aware you are dueling this man. We believe you had originally had something else in mind, however,” said Diego with a knowing eye.

  “Before you get too carried away with your pretentious act, Heinrich,” remarked Reiner with a foreboding stare directly aimed at his captain. “do not think this man is an easy foe. I am willing to wager he is as formidably adept at dueling as he is at being a scurrilous character, so please do not take him lightly. Do not play with him; strike fast, and without mercy.”

  “I am not taking him lightly. And yes, Diego, I have been playing this on the ragged edge as a wretched state has developed between the colonel and Captain Hennessey. I am hoping to appeal to the captain’s better judgment. We have very little or no options at the moment.”

  Drope took in the worried looks of his men, and almost wished he hadn’t brought them along, and be surrounded by the English. If things went sour, and the British warship opened fire on the See Wolf, it would provide his crew but little time. Who knew what could take place within that time? Maybe a freak storm would hit, and somehow his beloved schooner and crew could … yeah, sure, and the sun could suddenly hurl down streaks of flames setting fire to the British ship. He bit down on his lower lip and felt like cursing fate, but he chose to save his wrath for Tho
mas instead. He noticed Anton balling up his fists trying to stave off frantic nerves. His trusty giant of a protector, who right this moment could not stand the fact he had to stand down, and allow his captain to face death, felt helpless.

  “It’s all right, Anton. It is what it is. Try not to fret. I have put all of us at the brink of disaster. It is my own fault. I wish …” the words escaped him, and he just looked once more at the four. Under the dire circumstance, he was still filled with pride for his men. There were no better sailors to sail the world with. The loathsome voice of Colonel Thomas broke into his private inner sanctum, and he whirled about. Without glancing back at his men, he stepped forth as he spoke aloud in a commanding tone passing Captain Hennessey and Lt. O’Shea.

  “Into the cauldron of fiery hell, I seek to bestow my best to quell. The man I face is not worth a damn, so I must show he is a sham. And if by chance I live through this, may my beloved crew be blessed with bliss.”

  More to himself, Bruno muttered in response, “Bravo, captain. Do not give the scoundrel any quarter.” Only his shipmates heard.

  Drope came to stand at deck center with back to the bow as Thomas stood arrogantly with hands on his hips some fifteen feet opposite him. He noticed the colonel had discarded his sword. A well-dressed young man stood beside him holding a wooden case.

  “Come forth, Captain Drope,” said he with a rather cordial tone as he waved Heinrich over.

  From scoundrel to one of gracious host, the army colonel had suddenly transformed.

  “Hmm, another interesting development. Not only a change of weapons but also treating me with a false expression of respect. The man was a shameless chameleon in front of the crew pulling me into his web of tricks.”

  As Heinrich stepped closer, he saw the case held a pair of fancy dueling pistols.

  “These, sir, are the latest design in handguns. Marvelous craftsmanship, don’t you agree?” he said with a snide grin.

  “I wouldn’t know, colonel. I am but a mere sailor. I will just have to take your word on it. I take it we will not be using swords then?”

  “I am not opposed to using blades. A gentlemen’s duel, however, calls for proper weapons, and so I wish to provide you with as much … let’s say equality given your position as a ship’s captain. Battling with blades can be such a nasty business. These decks are scrubbed clean at all times, and the spilling of blood and gore doesn’t seem civilized. With the pistols, it will avoid much of that and befitting as men of honor and stature, don’t you think?”

  “If you say so, sir. I do not wish to dirty up a clean deck with anyone’s blood. I agree it would spoil the … the men’s entertainment.”

  Thomas rolled his eyes and smirked at this obvious oaf of a man he was about to send to hell.

  “Are they loaded?” asked Drope.

  Acting with as polite a manner as he could stand before this German swine, the colonel continued to speak in a friendly tone.

  “Why I believe they are; aren’t they, Lieutenant Collins?” addressing the young chap holding up the case for Drope to inspect. Collins nodded to affirm the pistols were ready. “Please do choose one, and get a feel for its balance.”

  “Yes, thank you, colonel; that’s very considerate of you. I must have misjudged you earlier. You are so courteous and all.”

  “Well, sir, it is quite easy to make a mistake of character when people first meet. I hold no grudge against you. It is a shame after all that we must go through with this formality. We might have even have gotten along together. You seem to be a decent fellow.”

  Drope didn’t bother to respond to the last presumptuous statement.

  “What a pompous arse.”

  He picked out one of the pistols and took it out very gently with both hands making an exaggerated show of not wanting to drop the weapon. Taking it by the grip, and by the muzzle end, Heinrich made a concerted effort trying to aim the pistol awkwardly up to the sky all the while holding it in front of his face as one does with a musket. Faint moans and groans of apparent discontent emitted from the masses of sailors crowding around in the hot sun. Drope just ignored them and continued to fidget with the pistol trying to line the muzzle up.

  Thomas was quite amused as he watched the cornball of a sailor wondering how to use the darn weapon. He was enjoying the sight of this idiot displaying complete ignorance of the pistol. Oh, he knew he was going to savor the moment when the .36 caliber lead ball would squarely hit Drope and see him stumble with the look of pure shock. Then watch him drop to his knees, and in incomprehensible fear as the precious life’s fluid drained from the hole in his chest.

  “It is truly befitting for a ship’s captain to use such fine instruments, is it not?”

  “Oh, yes indeed,” Drope said with a big smile. “I am truly honored to try this gun out.”

  “So, captain, what do you say we get on with it then?”

  Nodding emphatically, “I believe I’m ready, colonel,” he stated with enthusiasm while he pointed the muzzle to his face, and looked down the barrel to inspect it, causing more moans from the navy sailors.

  His four men gave each other desponded looks as their beloved captain was in the throes of his self-sustained act of clownish behavior.

  “So how do we go about this affair, colonel?”

  “It is quite simple. I will explain.” He took a couple of minutes to outline the dueling procedure as Hennessey and O’Shea listened intently making sure Drope received at the very least a fair shake. Both the naval officer’s faces were crestfallen due to the circumstances being out of their control. The captain had a tough time holding down his anger over the colonel’s high-handedness. This was his ship. It was a captain’s sacred domain that was widely held and recognized by a superior officer who was of reasonable mind; one who respected the Navy’s tradition of command. Hennessey’s foul mood against Thomas was so severe; he had the notion to challenge the man to a duel right after the dirty deed was done to Drope. Never in his entire career of twenty-eight years had he come across a man as dastardly as this army officer. Hennessey did have the presence of mind for the ship’s surgeon to be called on deck just in case the poor sap of a merchant mariner somehow got lucky and did not take a fatal wound. Alas, he did not have much hope of that happening as he knew Thomas well enough how adept he was with weapons.

  He could barely standby on deck witnessing the tragic event taking place. It was such a mockery on the part of Thomas as he took Drope through the paces of what he had to do to be the recipient of the colonel’s killing shot; deplorably absurd. How could the schooner captain be so gullible? Was he missing something here?

  “So, I understand you to say that when Lieutenant Collins counts down the paces and comes to the last one, I just turn to face you, and pull the trigger; is that correct, colonel?”

  “That’s all there’s to it, Captain Drope. Very simple don’t you think?”

  “I understand clearly; thank you. Now, this metal ball must surely make a good size bruise I imagine?”

  “Nothing to it. I have been through this several times, and you see me standing before you in good health. Afterward, we can share a tin of rum before you and your men depart for your ship.”

  “Heavens, I am so glad you had the good sense not to use the swords. That would have been dangerous. One of us could have gotten badly hurt. I am so glad we could come to better terms. I look forward to a more relaxed atmosphere with you, and enjoy in civil discourse over a bit of spirits.”

  The colonel almost lost it, wanting so terribly to burst out laughing, but more than anything, end this man’s life.

  “So, captain, are you ready to commence with this now. It is rather hot topside, and I’m concerned about the crew having to stand around in this brazen heat.”

  “Oh, by all means. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

  They moved to a spot toward the middle of the deck where Lt. Collins was waiting impatiently with a surly expression. Heinrich saw that both ends of the dueling l
ane were cleared of men. No doubt fearful of accidentally being shot. Still holding the pistol with both hands as if it was a porcelain treasure, and not wishing to drop it inadvertently, he turned as the colonel did back to back.

  “I will count out seven paces, gentlemen, and then on my command of ‘present,’ you may turn to face at each other, and fire. Good luck, Captain Drope,” said Collins sardonically.

  “And also, the colonel; don’t forget to advise him to do the same,” Lt. Collins. “We mustn’t be selfish now,” chiding the young officer.

  Collins almost gagged at the merchant’s preposterous words.

  “Gentlemen, raise your pistols.”

  Thomas already held his pistol just above the shoulder; muzzle to the sky, while Drope brought his weapon up now holding the grip with both hands, and raised it above his head; arms fully outstretched. More apathetic groans came from the sailors. Collins was about to tell Drope to hold his pistol lower but decided against it. What did it matter? What was the point? The result would be the same.

  “Ready to step off, gentlemen, by my count. One … two … three …”

  Heinrich kept a straight face as he stepped off keeping his trigger finger outside of the guard. He looked idiotic as he made his way with both arms over his head holding the pistol grip, while seemingly concentrating more on keeping his balance.

  “four … five …”

  Though he did not desire to witness it, Hennessey forced himself to lift his face and focused on the despicable scene to ensure Drope was provided the proper formality of the rules. O’Shea seeing his captain’s intent mirrored him as a courtesy.

  “six … seven … and present!”

  With expert acrobatic flair, Colonel Thomas spun around smoothly pivoting on one foot to face straightaway down the centerline toward the bow, and his intended target. Placing his right foot forward, while swinging his non-weapon arm behind his back, holding his form as a statuette sculpture, he looked exemplary in every bit of his decorous stance, as he brought his shooting arm forward in a fluid motion. The hammer already cocked back; it was just a matter of aim and fire.