There was no sign of the yards of the Rattlesnake in either Marblehead or Salem, though Kite stood as close inshore as he dared. He then stretched out towards Cape Cod, thinking Rathburne would cruise there on the chance of taking British merchant ships making for Boston. But here too he was disappointed and he set course for Halifax, an alternative cruising ground for a man intent on damaging British trade. Kite spoke with every ship he could bring-to in the hope of receiving news of his enemy, but the trail had turned cold.
‘Or you have been deceived,’ Sarah said as they dined one evening with the coast of Nova Scotia grey on the northern horizon. ‘Put back for Boston,’ she added sharply, ‘that is where the focus of rebellion lies.’
‘I should like to think your tone was bred of certainty,’ he said smiling. ‘But I suppose he may well have gone to cruise in the Irish Sea.’
‘’Tis too far from the seat of events, William. Think, we speak of a man who seeks every possible advantage from rebellion. Would you go far from Boston if you were such a man?’
‘You are persuasive.’
‘Say rather that I am intuitive.’ Sarah paused and then added, ‘and we have wasted three weeks on this fruitless quest.’
Kite considered the matter for a moment and then nodded his head and rose from the table. ‘You are right, my dear. I shall go on deck directly and put the vessel about.’
‘Well Zachariah, what d’you make of her?’ Kite’s voice was tense with expectation and he went so far as to remove his eye from the spy-glass and turn and contemplate his Second Mate impatiently, as though he could worm from Harper the answer he wanted by fixing him with a glare. The big American was not to be hurried.
‘Look at those yards, man, they are the Wentworth’s, or I’m a Dutchman!’ Kite said.
‘They are certainly longer than one would expect on such a vessel,’ offered Lamont helpfully.
The Spitfire was close-hauled under fore and aft canvas, her square topsails furled and her sheets hauled aft as she thrashed to windward in a stiff breeze under a grey sky. It neither felt, nor looked like a July day, for the overcast was mirrored in the sea and the wind drove the spume off the wavecaps in vicious little gusts that sent it over the weather bow with an intermittently vicious hiss and patter.
‘Well, sir?’ Kite asked, again staring through his glass as the schooner bucked under them. Harper lowered his glass and confronted Kite. ‘I’m not certain, sir, I cannot be sure.’
‘Oh damn you, why ’tis as plain as that damned great nose on your face…’
‘Well, we shall know in an hour or two, when we come up with her.’
‘If this wind remains as strong as it is, or strengthens further, she will have made Salem or Marblehead long before we come up with her,’ Kite said disconsolately.
‘Then we will blockade her, or cut her out,’ Lamont said cheerfully.
Kite shut his glass with a snap and took himself below, while Harper and Lamont exchanged glasses, the Mate raising his eyebrows. ‘Is he often like this?’ he asked and Harper shook his head.
‘No, but then I have never seen him in such circumstances before. I am reasonably certain that ship is, or was, the Wentworth, but to raise his expectations would be foolish. We have to recall that if it is the Wentworth, the vessel was once his own property. It cannot be easy to see your own property so flagrantly used by another man.’
Lamont grunted. ‘Like finding your wife abed with a neighbour.’
A strengthening wind and nightfall failed to resolve the question for them, and Kite hove-to rather than drive to windward in the darkness. They reduced sail, hauled the headsail sheets to windward and lashed the tiller so that the Spitfire bobbed easily into the seas, her decks now dry. A tolerable if not a comfortable night now lay in prospect for them all. In the cabin, Kite poured over his charts. The strange sail had been on their lee bow and was clearly not intending to double Cape Cod, which suggested she was bound for Boston, Salem or Marblehead. Heaving-to was not likely to lose them their quarry, if quarry she was, for she must tuck in somewhere or stand across their bow during the night and, if she did that, she must surely be seen, for she would have to pass close while the wind lay in the west-south-westerly quarter.
Writing up the Spitfire’s log he was convinced the ship they had seen earlier was indeed the former Wentworth and, bracing himself against one of the schooner’s more violent curtsies to the oncoming seas, he recorded as much in the wide right-hand column of the log-book under the heading Observations. By the time he had sufficiently composed himself for bed, Sarah was already asleep. Staring down at her for a moment before he doused the lantern, he marvelled at her ability to stay cool. That she had a temper he had ample evidence of, but it seemed to have lain dormant for many weeks under a paradoxically seething calm. He blew out the lantern, bent and kissed her, murmuring her name into the darkness.
Kite was on deck again at dawn, but now the wind had dropped and the sky had cleared so that the visibility extended for miles and he could see the blue line of the shore from Cape Ann in the north to Cape Cod in the south, with the faint outline of New Hampshire beyond the former. Only half a dozen sails were in sight, but none of them even remotely resembled the old Wentworth. Kite swore under his breath, walked forward and hoisted himself into the foremast rigging. He climbed with slow deliberation until he could throw one leg over the upper topsail yard and then he scanned the horizon again, but it brought him no satisfaction.
‘Well,’ he muttered, ‘we shall have to start again.’
Regaining the deck he found the watch had been roused and were anticipating him passing orders. ‘Very well, Mr Harper, let fly those heads’l sheets and let us lay a course for Salem. Full and bye of the larboard tack. Then you may set those topsails and the flying jib.’ The tempting smell of coffee rose from the cabin skylight and he was about to disappear below when he added, ‘and keep a sharp lookout.’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’
By noon they could see there was nothing of comparable size to the Wentworth lying in either Salem or Marblehead, so the helm went over again and they stood south on the starboard tack, heading for the cluster of islands known as The Brewsters that lay off Boston and between which the two safely navigable ship channels wound. Kite was bitterly disappointed, the more so since he remained convinced that it had been the Rattlesnake and former Wentworth that he had seen the previous afternoon. In this despondent mood he went below in search of a light meal. Within an hour, however, his mood had changed and he was roused from a doze into which he had fallen by a hammering at the cabin door and the intrusion of Harper’s ugly but happy face.
‘It’s her, sir. I’ve no doubt of it!’
Kite was on deck in an instant. The afternoon was now bright and sunny, the wind a steady breeze which offered the Spitfire her best chances, while in the lee of the distant land the sea was negligible. Kite recorded these details automatically; his attention was entirely engrossed by the ship to windward of them, some three miles away.
‘She suddenly emerged from Nahant Bay,’ Harper explained, ‘and she carries no colours…’
‘Meaning she wishes to conceal her intentions.’ Kite completed the sentence. But as if prompted by the schooner to leeward, a British ensign rose to her spanker gaff, matching the one at Spitfire’s own main peak. Kite registered a bearing along with it the fact that they were sailing faster than the Rattlesnake. He was reluctant to give up the leeward position from which Rathburne might escape, but wished to be certain of his quarry before bringing his enemy to action. On his present course Rathburne looked as if he was going to make for the north ship channel, and pass inside the North Brewster Island before hauling round and beating up into Boston harbour. Perhaps the rebels had taken up more positions in their absence, or perhaps Rathburne was intending to raid shipping in the outer roads; either way Kite could afford to give a little ground.
‘Let us also play the innocent, Mr Harper,’ Kite ordered. ‘Do you put her o
n the other tack and let us cross his stern. When you have done that pass word that the men are to muster at their general quarters. Have Mr Lamont report to me, but do everything without ostentation.’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’
As the Spitfire came up into the wind and the watch hauled the topsail braces and shifted the headsail sheets, Kite kept his glass trained on the Rattlesnake. He could see the small form of two figures on her quarterdeck and fancied he recognised Rathburne, but he knew it for a foolish assumption and concentrated on the hull of the ship. It was the work of a moment to recognise the stern decorations of his own vessel, for all the emblazonment in new gilt letters of the name Rattlesnake upon her transom timbers. Jumping in the lens of his glass he could see a man staring back at them through a long glass. It was impossible to identify the person at such a range and, even if it was Rathburne, the sight of the Spitfire would mean nothing to him, unless Carse had betrayed them. Mercifully, however, whoever it was could not possibly read their name, while schooners such as the Spitfire, despite her Spanish origins, were sufficiently common in New England waters as to excite no suspicions. Kite explained all this to Sarah, who had come on deck and, as was her custom when her husband was handling his ship, stood quietly beside the main windward rigging.
‘Captain Kite?’
Lamont, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, reported himself as required and Kite said, ‘that is my ship, Mr Lamont, and I intend to retake her. At the moment I am playing the innocent and attempting to pick my own ground. Have the men go to quarters quietly and prepare the guns. Double shot them but do not run them out through the ports until I pass the word.’
‘I understand, sir.’
As if it was the most natural thing in the world Kite ordered the schooner round onto the starboard tack again and stood after the Rattlesnake a cable or two to windward of her track. ‘If he is making inwards to Boston, as I think he surely must be,’ he said to Sarah, ‘I shall try and cut him off and catch him inside the passage where his draught and the trickiness of the navigation will hamper him.’
‘You think he intends to raid shipping in the roads?’
‘Yes, that would seem to be very possible.’
‘Might he not decide that we are a suitable prize?’
Kite shrugged. ‘Possibly, but we are only a small schooner and he may be after larger craft.’ Kite stared ahead and out over the starboard bow. ‘If you’ll excuse me, my dear, I must slip below for a moment.’
Having steadied on her new course, Kite went below to consult the chart. Picking it off his table he rolled it up and took it on deck where he gave it to Sarah to hold. Then he turned to Harper and relieved him of the conn.
‘I’ll take the ship,’ he said formally.
‘Very well, sir. Full and bye, starboard tack, course sou’ by west and we overhauling our friend.’
‘Very well. Now Zachariah, I’m intending to slip between Deer Island and Niches Mate, and to avoid the reef off Deer Island we must wait until Castle William lies clear between the two. It will require a tack or two, but we will arrive in the roads before our friend, as you call him, and may well pin him against the islands when we offer battle.’
Harper nodded; the bigger and deeper Rattlesnake would almost certainly run down inside The Brewsters and join the south ship channel, entering Boston harbour by way of Nantasket Road. The action of both vessels would be seen as perfectly usual and Rathburne would not compromise his approach for fear of losing the initiative he so clearly thought he possessed.
For the next half and hour the two ships parted company, the Rattlesnake continuing south, leaving Kite to concentrate upon making the lead of Castle William in the distance, lie between the southern point of Deer Island and the northern point of Niches Mate. He then tacked in along the lead, the Spitfire’s square topsails clewed up and the schooner handling under fore-and-aft canvas like a yacht of the Cumberland Fleet. An hour later, inside Long Island a mile from the anchorage where they had loaded their ballast three weeks earlier, they hove-to and awaited the Rattlesnake driving up from Nantasket Road.
But after the passing of yet another hour, she was no-where to be seen and it was Harper who, clambering aloft, reported her yards with the sails clewed up, bearing roughly south east.
‘If you ask me he’s anchored, sir,’ Harper said as he regained the deck and reported to Kite. Kite asked Sarah for the chart and unrolled it. Harper leaned over Kite’s shoulder and laid a finger on the paper. ‘About here, I’d say, Captain. Near Great Brewster Island.’
Kite looked up then sang out, ‘helm hard over! Let fly the heads’l sheets and let fall those topsails! Brace the yards round for the starboard tack!’
The Spitfire gathered way and Kite steadied her for the run down Nantasket Road, stamping up and down the deck with impatience as the schooner raced to the south east, the wind broad on the beam and the white wake flying out astern of her. It was an exhilarating half an hour as the shores of Long Island to starboard and first Gallops and then George’s Islands sped past to larboard. Soon they could see from the deck the upper yards of the Rattlesnake over the islands and, as they cleared the southern extremity of George’s Island, Rathburne’s intentions became clear.
The Rattlesnake had been brought to her anchor close to the south of the Great Brewster Island and her boats were plying between off-lying Beacon Island, one of the so-called Little Brewsters, and the anchored ship. Beyond the anchored Rattlesnake lay a schooner.
‘Well I’ll be damned, they are going to damage the lighthouse!’ Kite announced, closing his glass. ‘Well, let us see if we can frustrate their plans!’ He raised his voice. ‘Run out the guns!’
In fact the work of destruction was well under way. Unbeknown to Kite, the schooner had been on the scene for some two hours and the work of destruction was far advanced by the time Spitfire arrived to contest the matter. Nevertheless, clewing up the square topsails, they approached the anchored rebel vessels with Sarah’s pendant streaming from the main truck. Running past the Rattlesnake, they fired a broadside into her, taking her completely by surprise but apparently effecting little damage. Continuing past the Rattlesnake, Kite ran very close to the rebel schooner and fired into her, shooting away her main gaff, wounding both her masts, beating in a portion of her bulwarks and lodging a few shot in her hull. Gybing, Kite stood back towards Beacon Island and threw shot into the cluster of boats, then put up his helm and ran past the eastern flank of the island, firing at the parties of men ashore. He was now compelled to break off the action and round the island, to beat up from the south before engaging the Rattlesnake again.
There was little doubt that the Spitfire’s gunnery had damaged the rebel schooner, whose name Sarah said was the Concordia, but Kite was conscious of having thrown away the chance of overwhelming the Rattlesnake by surprise. However, he knew that had he concentrated upon her, the Concordia would have undoubtedly engaged the single schooner and overwhelmed them, so he was not too dispirited as he passed south of the island. He did not need a glass to see the rebel party on the island as they bore off stores and equipment from the lighthouse, nor to guess why shortly afterwards a curl of smoke became a raging fire where the rebels burnt the wooden parts of the pharos.
‘Sarah, my dear,’ he said turning to his wife, ‘do you bring up the small arms with Ben, my pistols and the like.’
She smiled and, her eyes wild, ran below.
As the Rattlesnake’s anchorage opened up again, Kite ordered Jacob to put the Spitfire’s helm over, then told Lamont to double-shot the guns of both batteries and to withdraw the breech quoins.
‘I shall pass close across her stern,’ he announced. ‘You may fire at will, but make certain every shot tells. Any man not at a gun may take up a pistol or musket here, aft of the mainmast. You may knock heads, not hats, off.’
Heading north, Kite ordered the main and foresails triced up, slowing the rate of advance, though he kept the headsails drawing. ‘I’m intending to t
ack on his quarter, Jacob, where he has no gun to bear upon us, and then run back across his stern and fire the larboard guns. D’you follow me?’
‘I follow you, Cap’n Kite!’ The tall negro rolled his eyes and bared his teeth in a wild grin and Kite caught the infection of excitement in that wild, fearless moment. As they closed the enemy, Kite saw the schooner was making sail having cut her cable, and escaping to the north east, then they were swiftly approaching the Rattlesnake and her stern began to loom over them. Forward the first gun fired, then the second, and the boom of the discharges rolled along the Spitfire’s side in a series of concussions that echoed between the two hulls. A musket shot struck the rail beside Kite and he saw the pale blur of a face behind the open sash of one of the stern windows. Sarah, her hair blowing in the breeze, her arm outstretched and steady, levelled a pistol and as a musket barrel emerged she fired so that the barrel was hastily withdrawn. Beside her Bandy Ben passed her another loaded pistol and she pinked a figure that leaned over the taffrail.
As the Spitfire drew off on the quarter an after gun was fired, but the shot flew wide and then Kite ordered Jacob to put the schooner’s head through the wind, exposing her stern to the enemy who fired a number of muskets and a swivel gun into the cabin windows. One pane of glass shattered noisily.
The second pass across the Rattlesnake’s stern was at a greater distance than the first and the enemy had mustered more men with small arms in the cabin and at the rail. A man at a midships gun was hit, another had his hat knocked off and several holes appeared in the Spitfire’s sails, but she drew clear little the worse for her audacity. What damage she had inflicted on the Rattlesnake, Kite was uncertain, for the smoke from the schooner’s guns drifted slowly to leeward and blocked their view, but it was clear that the rebel ship had sent most of her crew ashore and was actually as vulnerable at that moment as she would ever be.
The Privateersman Page 23