The Saintly Buccaneer

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Hate to sink that ship,” Dan commented. “She’d bring forty thousand back home.”

  “Maybe next time we can bring prize crews,” she mused.

  “Maybe.” Dan gave the order, and Lige blew a hole in the bottom of the ship. She sank quickly, and Dan looked away soberly. “Could be us, Charity.”

  “No. God’s with us, Dan. We’ll be all right.”

  There was a feast for everyone that night, even the prisoners who were stacked together into two small cabins. The enemy ship had been filled with galley stores, and the crew ate as few of them ever had.

  In the great cabin, Malloy, the steward, served the captain’s table with a liberal hand. The table was small, just large enough for Captain Alden, Charity, Dan, Middles, Conrad, and Lester. Rufus Middles was a fat man who served as sailmaker, but had considerable medical experience—having been apprenticed to a physician at one time. Laurence Conrad, the coxswain, was a tall, thin man, almost cadaverous. He was an incurable pessimist outwardly. Miles Lester was an older man, pushing sixty. But he had the bright eyes and indefatigable stamina of a much younger man.

  All of them waded through a dozen courses—a huge joint of beef, chicken, kidney pie, steaming hot vegetables, plum duff and fruit washed down with rough, dry Cape Town wine and topped up with port. The captain did not drink, nor did Dan or Charity, but the others imbibed freely.

  Finally they all leaned back, and Lester stated contentedly, “Well, man and boy, I’ve been aboard ships—but never a meal like that!” He took out a battered briar pipe, and soon the cabin was fragrant with the blue smoke rising from the bowl. “I suppose it’s back home, eh, Captain?”

  “Well, I suppose...”

  “I think we might have a nibble at the convoy the captain of that Britisher told us about,” Dan suggested.

  Conrad stared at him in surprise, his thick eyebrows rising. “Whatever for, Greene? We’re loaded to the waterline now!”

  “That’s right,” Middles agreed. His fat face was sweaty in the lamplight, and he was so full of food he groaned as he leaned forward. “We get this ship back and we’re all rich. I say set sail right now.”

  “A few days won’t make any difference,” Dan argued. “We might be able to pick off a stray.”

  “And do what with her?” Conrad’s frown grew stronger and he demanded suddenly, “Didn’t that captain say there was a frigate guarding the convoy?”

  “Well, he did say that—”

  “Then we don’t need to be hanging around these waters!”

  “I agree with Conrad, Dan. That frigate can throw enough iron to blow the Lady out of the water.” Lester’s wise old eyes were blue as a summer sky, and his wealth of experience commanded everyone’s respect.

  Charity looked at Dan. “What’s your thinking?”

  There was a pause as the big Quaker thought about his words. He was quick in action, but there was a characteristic way that came from his Quaker background—a slowness, perhaps the result of many hours sitting in “Meeting” waiting until the Inner Light fell on one of the Friends. Charity had heard him say that it was not unusual for a group to sit stock-still for two hours in absolute silence until one of the number heard from God.

  The cabin was quiet as he paused, the silence broken only by the creaking of the timbers and the faint cry of a seaman calling out the watch change topside. Finally he spoke. “Maybe it’s a great thing to be rich—though it’s not something I’ve given much thought to. I guess the winter I spent at Valley Forge changed me.”

  Charity added, “I can understand that, Dan. I’ll never forget the sight of bloodstains in the snow from the bleeding feet of those men.”

  He glanced at her and smiled, then said, “I didn’t join this rebellion to get rich.”

  Middles shot back aggressively, “You’re not the only Patriot on this ship, Dan. All of us believe in the cause—but look at it this way, the sooner we get home and unload, the sooner we can go back to sea and strip the bones of King George!”

  “I’ll drink to that!” Conrad cried, and downed another tankard of pale wine. “We’ve got nothing to gain nosing around that convoy.”

  “Every time a British ship is lost,” Dan alleged stubbornly, “it’s good for us and bad for them. If we do it enough, the British will have to quit. Their ships are scattered all over the world—and if we can make this fight cost them too much, why, they’ll leave us alone.”

  “Not likely, Mr. Greene,” Conrad commented gloomily. “Washington is hanging on by a thread—why, I’ve heard he doesn’t have twenty thousand men in the whole Army! And the British blockade has us strangled!”

  “God will not desert us, Laurence,” Dan encouraged gently. Laurence Conrad had no more religion than a cat—or so he made his claim. Throwing up his hands he said in exasperation, “Oh, it always comes to that, doesn’t it, Friend Dan? No matter how big a mess we make of things, God will see us through!”

  “Not a bad way of thinking, Laurence,” Miles Lester said quietly, and he gave Dan a smile. “I don’t see as how it can hurt to look around a bit. If we run into that frigate, the Lady can sail out of range while the British are tryin’ to trim their jib!”

  Some would have argued, but Captain Alden made the decision. “Just a day or two—then back to Boston.” He arose and this was the signal for the party to disperse. Conrad glared at Dan as he left, muttering something about presumption, but the others accepted the captain’s decision without comment.

  “Come on deck with me, Charity,” Dan requested. He left the hot cabin and led her up the ladder to the deck. They made their way to the sharp bow and stood there in the moonlight enjoying the breeze.

  The sky was so blue that it seemed purple, and the stars glittered like burning ice—a million points of light scattered like jewels across the curving horizon.

  “Makes me feel pretty small, that sky,” he remarked. “Reminds me of what God promised Abraham—that his seed would be as the stars of the sky.” He looked upward, awestruck. “God is a great maker, isn’t He, Charity?”

  “Yes. He is,” she whispered.

  He smiled at her, saying, “Remember what God asked Job when He spoke to him out of the whirlwind? ‘Canst thou bind the sweet influences of Pleiades, or loose the bands of Orion? Canst thou bring forth Massaroth in his season? Or canst thou guide Arcturus with his sons?’ ”

  His deep voice stirred something within her, but it was not a comfortable feeling. His walk with God disturbed her, somehow. She stared at him and suddenly asked, “Dan, you love God, don’t you? I mean, more than anything else, you love God!”

  “Why, certainly!” The question took him off guard, and he looked at her, leaning forward to see her face. She was, he saw, disturbed, and he asked, “Why does thee ask that, Charity?”

  She stirred unhappily and did not answer immediately. A star fell off the starboard bow, and she watched as it traced a line of light down the sides of the north. “It’s not like that with me, Dan. You don’t seem to need anything but God—and that’s not the way I am. I know it’s what I ought to feel—but I just don’t.”

  He stood there, making a large shape in the darkness, his face lit by the silver light that flooded the deck. Her words disturbed him, but he had known that she felt something like this. For months they had been together on the small ship, and they had stood many times at the same rail, talking of everything under the sun. She was a creature of moods, he had long known. But he also had discerned that the mood covered a dark side of her character, a part of herself that she kept carefully hidden. It was as if she would let him into her lighter moods, but put a large KEEP OUT sign over that part of her life that lay deepest in her soul.

  He put his hand on hers as it lay on the rail, saying, “Why, thee does love God, Charity.”

  “Not like you do, Dan. You’ve got to realize that. There’s something in you, and in Julie and Nathan—and his parents, too—that’s different.” She struggled to find words for her thoughts, a
nd turned quickly to face him, her face tense and strained. “I don’t think any of you know what it’s like for the rest of us.”

  “The rest of you?”

  “Yes—those who just have some religion—enough to get by, I suppose.” She laughed shortly and said, “That sounds terrible! But it’s the truth—and it’s why I’d make a rotten wife for you, Dan.”

  “No such thing—!”

  She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “You know it’s the truth, but you’re stubborn. You need a girl who’s as much in love with God as you are—and I’m not that girl, Dan.”

  He shook his head, saying, “Thee is not talking sense, Charity!”

  “Thee is a stubborn fool, Daniel Greene!” She struck him angrily on the chest, and there were tears in her eyes. “If it were any other man, you’d tell him quick enough, ‘Get rid of that flighty girl and find yourself a woman who loves God like you do!’ That’s what you’d tell him, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

  A rare streak of anger ran through him, and he grabbed her suddenly and held her tightly, ignoring her protest and struggle. He lowered his head and kissed her, and though at first she struggled to free herself, gradually she ceased and they stood there under the stars, in each other’s arms. For months he had been capping his desire with a steely brand of discipline. Day after day he had watched her; many times he had taken her arm or she had brushed against him, and often the physical desire raged in his flesh. He was not a man to take advantage of a woman, and he had bent over backward to avoid any hint of pressure, despite their engagement.

  Now he forgot that, and he held her pinioned in his arms, savoring the softness of her lips and the intense femininity of her body. The slow roll of the ship matched the waves of longing that seemed to rise from deep inside his heart, and he realized that she was not struggling any longer.

  Charity was taken off guard; she was so accustomed to the iron control of Daniel the Quaker that she had not sensed the fierce strength of Daniel the man. As he held her in his arms, she found herself responding to his kiss, pulling him closer and surrendering to the magnetic power of his nearness. There was a drumming in her ears, and she was trembling.

  Abruptly she pulled away and looked up at him. “What does that prove, Dan?”

  “It proves I love thee.”

  “No! It proves you’re a man and I’m a woman. You find me attractive and want to make love to me. And I know you can tell from the way I kissed you that I also find you attractive. But that’s nothing.”

  “Nothing, Charity?” He shook his head and steadied himself. The kiss had shaken him, and he waited as the ship rolled before he went on. “Thee is making too much of this. It was just a kiss. That’s part of marriage—a good part, I think. God made them male and female. It’s got to be that way.”

  “Yes—but it’s more than that, isn’t it? We can’t spend the next fifty years kissing, can we?” She laughed as he blinked at her outspokenness. “Didn’t think I could shock you, Dan! But it’s true. Marriage is more than bodies coming together. It’s minds and souls and spirits!”

  “Thee is right, Charity.”

  “And we’re right back to it. The most important thing in you, Daniel Greene, is God. And you need a woman who’s the same way.”

  He was a stubborn man, awesomely so, she realized. His wide face seemed to settle in determination. “Thee will change, Charity. Thee is young.”

  She saw that everything she had said made no difference to him, so she reminded him, with a little streak of cruelty, “You were in love with Julie, weren’t you, Dan?”

  He reddened, for it was the truth. Nathan’s wife had been his first love. He had told Charity of it, feeling that it was her right to know, and now he could only say, “I—I thought I was.”

  “And now you think you’re in love with me,” she stated quietly. Shaking her hair free, Charity turned to face the horizon, her voice weary as she added, “I don’t think we can make it, Dan. I’m afraid it’s not going to work. It’s not your fault—it’s mine.”

  He did not touch her, but replied calmly, “We’ll see, Charity. There’s no hurry.”

  They stood there looking at the stars, the silence of the skies a contrast to the turbulent scene below. The conversation had disturbed them both, and when they parted, there was only a brief word. For a long time Dan lay in his bunk trying to pray, but the heavens seemed like brass. Finally he said huskily, “Lord, I want that girl, but it’s as Thee thinks best.” He rolled over, feeling miserable and unable to sleep until the motion of the ship finally lulled him into a dreamfilled slumber.

  Charity fared no better, perhaps worse. She went to sleep but was gripped by an evil and frightening dream. She woke up with a cry caught in her throat, and the terror of it was so great that she rose from her bed and sat in a chair until the first streaks of dawn began to lighten the sky.

  The Gallant Lady probed the green billows silently all night. Underneath her hull, millions of sea creatures stirred, while overhead a myriad of stars glittered. The crew slept, except for the watch, and the elderly helmsman, a worn sailor named Hobbes, who thought not of the stars in their courses, but of the leftover plum duff he would have for breakfast. He kept the ship on course and thought of food; such was the simplicity of his soul, and there were those on board the ship who would have traded much to have had his serenity!

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  HAWKE’S BAG

  Twenty-seven days out of London, the Neptune had been making painfully slow progress under light winds, breezes often falling to the merest zephyr, a whisper in the slack, sullen sails. Langley had done all he could, which was little enough: he had set every stitch of canvas available—skysails, studding sails below and aloft, and the seldom-used light moonrakers. He ordered the pumps to be played on the lower sails as far as they could reach and water manhandled aloft to wet the canvas above, and he edged the frigate a few miles north in the hope of finding new winds. In the ship’s quieter moments, he had thought of asking Angus to pray for wind, but that would have been too much, he decided.

  The crew watched him carefully, for they well knew that if the breeze failed entirely, they would have to man the small boats and tow the ship by brute force—a man-killing chore they all dreaded.

  The frigate had been in the vanguard of the convoy, and had sighted no other vessels since leaving England. All the officers hated the convoy duty, for it was a slow monotonous task, as they were tied to the speed of the slowest vessel. Not that it mattered much, since the winds were almost nothing, in any case!

  The days had merged into one another with little to note their passing in the unvarying routine of a warship at sea, except for the occasional small landmark, a bloody accident during gun practice, or a rare meal of fresh beef—fresh from the barrel, of course. Watch followed watch, four hours on and four hours off, the hands varying their night watches with a two-hour spell in the dog-watches in order for one watch not to suffer continually the detested middle watch. The routine of the day never changed: holystoning, breakfast, dinner, grog, quarters, grog, supper, sleep. In between came gun practice, painting, shot cleaning, punishment, boat drill, clothing inspections—and on fine evenings, singing, dancing and skylarking on the forecastle.

  On one of these nights as the Neptune inched her way through a sea as smooth and unbroken as glass, Blanche Rommey joined the three lieutenants as they stood on the poop deck and watched the antics of the crew below. All three of them turned, but Angus alone saw the pain that leaped into the eyes of Langley as she appeared, clad in an emerald green dress, her hair falling over her bare shoulders. Still sick with love of her, poor lad! he thought. Better if Mann could cut out that hopeless love like he lops off a leg or an arm!

  He shot a quick glance at Hawke, not surprised to see that the trim officer only smiled at his bride-to-be. I’d be pleased to know what goes on in that brain of his—he doesn’t act much like a man in love, that’s certain! It’s her that has to do all the lovemaki
ng! A whole month together on this ship, and he acts like he’s on parade before the Queen!

  The wily Scotsman had watched the third lieutenant and the captain’s daughter no less than did the others on the ship. Hawke had been a target for every eye ever since he had been commissioned an officer; this was not strange, for an officer of any rank in the King’s Navy was a demigod to those who lived below the salt. Every man in one way or another would be at his mercy, and all of them had suffered enough under cruel officers to be avidly interested in how this new lieutenant would behave.

  But Hawke had not been an easy man for the crew to figure out; he was unlike any other officer they had ever seen. He was, they soon discovered, not unfair, and they all gave a collective sigh of relief when, after finding Will Jones asleep on the late watch, Hawke punished him by cutting off his grog for a week.

  “He could’ve had you torn to bits with the cat, Jones,” Spinner had told him. Then he grinned broadly. “We ain’t got no worries over this ’un, mates! He’s too bleedin’ easy!”

  But the next week when Spinner himself carelessly brought a bag of black powder into the vicinity of a lighted quick match, he had suddenly found himself grasped and thrown backward into the bulkhead with such force that he could not breathe for a few moments. He got to his feet, his beady eyes blazing with rebellion, an evidence to the crew that he was not cowed by Hawke. But then the husky sailor looked into the raging eyes of Hawke, and something he saw there made him shut his mouth at once.

  “I’ve heard you think I’m an easy man, Spinner. We’ll see if you think so tomorrow.”

  At punishment the next day, all hands were fully expecting that Spinner would get a taste of the cat, and the officers expected no less than three dozen lashes. But Captain Rommey put the option into the hands of Hawke himself: “Punishment will be assigned by Lieutenant Hawke.”