“Aye, sir!”
Angus looked at the reeling ship, and said, “She’d better surrender. I hate to think of what a broadside with chain will do to those on that deck.”
“It’s their option, Mr. Burns. If I had God’s ear as you do, I think I’d ask Him to give that captain enough sense to surrender!”
****
Ever since the main mast had fallen, the crew of the Lady had been hard put to avoid panic. Captain Alden had shown no fear, and it helped the crew to see the old man standing straight and tall on the deck as unconcerned as if he were in his own garden at home. Dan Greene looked up from where he labored over his guns long enough to say with a grin, “Well, Captain, we’re in a fight!”
“Blast the suckers out of the water, Daniel!” Alden cried. He shook his fist at the Neptune and shouted, “Come on, you blasted cowards.”
Dan shook his head later and remarked, “Captain, I wouldn’t say they’re cowards exactly. They’re standing up to our fire better than most. But unless they get more of our sail, we’ll make it. Once it’s dark, we can shake them off. Maybe we can get a little more sail on, do you reckon? Every yard helps.”
Alden went off to see about jury-rigging a jib, and Charity came to stand beside Dan. Surprised, he shouted, “Charity, get below!”
“No! I’ll stay here with you and Father.” She ignored him as he begged her to leave, and after he got off the next shot, she asked, “Are they going to get us, Dan?”
“I pray not.” He stared out across the water, then shook his head. “This is my fault. But I pray God will deliver us.”
“And there are men on that ship praying that God will put us in their hands.” She stared at him bitterly, bright anger in her eyes as she stormed, “I don’t understand your God, Dan. I never will!”
He stared at her unhappily, and she turned and stalked off. He wanted to run after her, to explain. For now that would have to wait. She was angry with him for getting them into the danger, and rightly so, but he had no thought of being taken.
It was only when the shot from the warship knocked the rudder off that he knew they were lost. He felt the shot hit; then when the ship heeled to starboard, he knew it was over.
He walked slowly toward where Alden was standing beside Hobbes, the ancient helmsman. “We’ve got to surrender, Captain Alden.”
“Surrender the Lady? Never!”
“No choice. Look, she’s swinging around to give us a broadside.”
Alden looked, but had no idea of what that meant. “Get to your guns, Daniel.”
Greene stared at him, amazement in his face. “Sir, we can’t stand a broadside from a frigate! Why, a ship of the line couldn’t stand that!”
Alden seemed dazed. He shook his head stubbornly. “We’ll fight her! Get to your guns!”
Dan saw that the old man had cracked. He turned and stated numbly, “I’ll lower our colors, Captain.”
He left the cabin and heard Alden shouting, but could not make out the words. Suddenly just as he approached the mast and was prepared to haul the colors down to indicate surrender, he was seized and thrown to the deck. He fought, but Olsen and three other husky members of the crew held him down. Olsen had never forgotten the whipping he’d taken, and now he laughed in delight as he pinioned Greene to the deck.
“Let me up, you fools!” Dan shouted. “They’ll blow us out of the water!”
But Olsen only laughed. “Let’s see how strong you are now, Mr. Greene!” he taunted.
Fear rose in Dan’s heart, for he knew that as soon as the frigate made her turn, she would throw enough metal at them to blow the Lady to bits.
But he could not free himself. He thought mostly of Charity, and struggled frantically to break the hold. Others were giving the orders to man the guns, and he caught a glimpse of the port deck, lined with gunners. It seemed that every hand was on deck, not knowing they were about to be hit with a hail of iron.
Some of the guns fired, but then he heard Laurence Conrad cry clearly, “Look out! She’s coming to bear!” He paused and then added, “For what we are about to receive—”
He never finished, for there was a terrific thunder of guns, and the Lady reeled under the blow. The air was full of sounds, and Greene knew as he lay powerless on the deck that the whirring noise was six-foot lengths of chain that swept the deck of the ship like a scythe. The men who held him down were knocked off him as if with a giant fist, and as Dan sprang to his feet, he saw that Olsen had been cut almost in half.
A deadly silence followed, strange and eerie after the crash of the guns—and then the cries of the wounded and dying began. It tore against Dan’s nerves, but he hurdled the bodies that lay squirming on deck and ran for the cabin. The sides of it, he saw, had been blasted away, and he flung himself through the door in an agony of fear. He saw the mangled body of Hobbes huddled against the bulkhead, and in the middle of the deck William Alden lay holding on to his stomach. He had taken the wound that spilled his life, and he was staring at the wound with eyes that were already beginning to cloud.
“Father! Father!” Charity came flying through the door, falling beside the dying man, weeping and pulling at him. “Don’t die! Please don’t die!”
He lifted one hand, and the blood ran like a stream to the deck. Touching her hair, he waited until she lifted her head. When he spoke his voice was weak. “Daughter, you have been my joy—but now it’s time for me to leave. God will keep you—for I go to Him—I go to my Beloved!”
She shook in every joint, and her hands plucked at him. “Don’t leave me!” she cried.
His face was pale as death, but he took his other arm and threw it around her. Then the strength drained out of him, and he managed to say only, “I—will wait for you—your mother and I—we’ll be—”
Then he fell back, and she flung herself across him in a paroxysm of grief.
Dan Greene stood there silently. He had killed her father as surely as if he had put a gun to his head, and his heart was dark with hopeless grief.
He heard the sounds of the warship’s boats arriving a little later, but when a British lieutenant entered and commanded, “Take him away, and see that this lady has proper treatment,” he did not say a word, but turned and left the cabin without a backward look. His eyes were blurred, but he did not know if it was for the crew, for William Alden, for Charity, or for himself that he wept.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE
Captain Rommey waited until Langley came through the door of the great cabin and took his place beside Burns and Hawke. The captain had given them a day to repair the damage to the Neptune and to care for the wounded of both ships; now he rose from his chair and went to stand in front of them.
“I’ll have full reports on the damage to the ship later, but first I want to know what disposition you’ve made of the prisoners.”
“Captain,” Langley spoke up, “the privateer had over fifty prisoners on board, taken from prizes. I had them shifted to the Mary Ann. She’s got a cargo of lumber and iron products, but she can carry that many people without any problem.”
“Very good. We don’t need the added burden of nursing civilians on this ship. What about the crew of the—what’s the name? Oh, The Gallant Lady.”
Langley shifted uncomfortably, and there was a cloud on his face as he answered, “Well, sir, most of them were on deck when the broadside hit. Those who weren’t killed outright were pretty badly hurt. I had Dr. Mann set up emergency surgery. Not many of them will make it.”
“The captain was killed, I understand?”
“Yes, sir. His daughter was on board. She’s taking it badly.”
“I see.” Rommey turned and began to walk back and forth, his hands clasped behind him and staring at the floor. It was a characteristic behavior, they knew, when he was wrestling with a decision; so they waited until he slapped his hand against his thigh and came to stand before them.
“I’ll have a prize crew put aboard the
Lady,” he stated. “She’s not badly damaged, I understand. She’ll bring a good price, and I don’t suppose you gentlemen have any scruples against taking prize money?” He smiled at them, then frowned and added, “There are problems, of course.”
“We’re undermanned as it is, Captain,” Langley protested quickly. “Can’t spare many men.”
“It’s always that way, Mr. Langley, but we can manage something. The problem, of course, is navigation. I want this ship taken to New York, and that’s no easy job. With a skeleton crew it will be a difficult job at best, for I expect the convoy will pull away before the Lady is repaired.” He glanced at Burns and said, “I’d let you go, Mr. Burns, but—”
“No, sir,” Burns interrupted. “I’m still shaky on my navigation.”
“Yes, I thought so,” Rommey scowled. “It can’t be you, Mr. Langley, of course—so, Mr. Hawke, I’ll have you go as prizemaster.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You can fight it out with Mr. Langley about which of the crew you can take with you—and if there’s any difficulty, Mr. Burns will make the decisions. I suggest you act quickly, for I hear that there’s a wind rising. Be good to get out of this blasted calm!”
“How long do I have, Captain?”
“Take today. Get supplies and anything you need from our stores to repair the ship. I want to move at dawn. You should be in New York some few days after we arrive—now, I believe that’s all.”
“Sir,” Burns spoke up, “there’s one matter ye must decide—aboot Miss Alden.”
“Who? Oh, is she the daughter of the captain?”
“Aye, sir. Well, is she a prisoner, or not, Captain?”
Rommey’s square face grew sober, and he rubbed his thick chin with a forefinger. “According to the law, she’s technically a member of the crew of an enemy vessel—but that won’t answer here, will it, Burns?”
“I don’t believe so, Captain.” Burns had been busy sorting out the prisoners and had spent considerable time with the daughter of the late captain, and his heart had gone out to her. He put an energetic note in his voice as he made his plea: “She’s lost her father—and, of course, the ship was all the family had for a livelihood. And her people are strong on family plots, Captain. She’s been beggin’ me to see that her father’s body gets back to America.”
“That’s impossible!” Rommey snorted.
“Not really, sir,” Burns responded quickly. “There’s plenty o’ alcohol on board. I could have the body sealed in a barrel full of spirits, and it would be preserved.”
Rommey stared at the Scot in a mood close to anger, pausing to consider his absurd suggestion. “This must be a very pretty young lady, Mr. Burns,” he allowed with a slight smile. “You wouldn’t do as much for a homely woman.”
“Perhaps, not, sir,” Burns nodded, “but it would nae be to my credit to behave in such a fashion. The young woman is vurry attractive—but I trust my motive is somewhat more humane than that.”
Rommey stared at him, shrugged, and continued. “Very well, Mr. Burns. If you will take care of the details, I will arrange to insure that Miss Alden is listed as a passenger, not as a crew member.”
“Thank ye, sir. ‘The quality o’ mercy is not strained,’ as the bard says.”
Rommey snorted. “I’m not interested in your blasted poetry, Mr. Burns, and I want every man of that crew who’s able to walk sent as a prisoner to Dartmoor—no exceptions, you hear me?” Rommey appeared to be apprehensive that someone would interpret his act of mercy to Charity Alden as a weakness, so he scowled at them sternly, adding, “Put them in that hellhole, Mr. Burns, every man jack of them!”
“Yes, sir. They’re under lock and key—but there’s not more than fifteen of them.”
“You are dismissed!”
The three officers filed out, and it took the combined efforts of all of them to get the job done by dark. It was no minor matter to get the material for repairs shifted from the Neptune to the Lady, but the business of the prize crew brought Langley and Hawke into a bitter altercation, as the captain had known it would. Langley contested every choice that the other made, and Hawke deliberately set his sights too high, knowing he’d have to settle for less.
In the end, they were forced to hand Burns their lists, and he agreed to pick the prize crew. “On the condition,” he demanded, staring at them sternly, “that my decision is final. No hard feelings toward me if ye don’t agree. Both of ye are my friends, and no matter what I put on the list, neither of ye will like it!”
He was correct, but Hawke was secretly pleased when he heard the names—especially with Rhys Morgan, the best foretopman on the ship. He was not so pleased when Burns named Oscar Grimes—but he saw a twinkle in the Scotsman’s gray eyes and knew he had done it to placate Langley. He was not sorry to hear the name of Dion Sullivan, for despite his differences with the man, he needed strong hands and good seamen. He received only fifteen men, but one of them was Robert Graves—a fine carpenter who could oversee the repair of the Lady. Once again, this was balanced by the addition of Spinner—but Hawke knew that the gunner was in such fear of him he’d cause no trouble.
The crew worked furiously all day, and it was not until after dark that Hawke came to the captain’s cabin, having been summoned by the steward. He knocked, and when the captain called out “Come in!” he entered to find a table set and Blanche and her father sitting in the golden light of the lanterns.
“Come in, Mr. Hawke!” Rommey indicated a chair with a place set on the white tablecloth, and as Hawke took his seat, he said, “Better enjoy this meal, my boy. I’ve approved the list for your prize crew—and there’s not a cook on it. You’ll be eating poorly until you arrive at port.”
“You’re probably right, sir,” Hawke smiled. “I don’t suppose you could part with Hans for the rest of the voyage?”
“On no account! I’ll part with any other man before I give up my cook!” Rommey responded. “Well, pitch in, Hawke, and you too, Blanche!”
It was the most ornate meal Hawke could remember, consisting of a large fish, beef-and-kidneys, a magnificent kidney pie, even some fresh vegetables. In addition there was a ragout of pork and a dish of brawn with dark specks, which the captain identified as truffles. For dessert, they were served a pudding rich with raisins and currants, jellies of two colors—all washed down by an ocean of fine wines.
Finally, Rommey pushed his chair back and stared at Hawke with an odd smile on his blunt face. “Now that you are hopelessly full and unable to argue, I must tell you, Lieutenant Hawke, that I have brought you here under false pretenses.”
“Sir?”
“You don’t see Mr. Langley or Mr. Burns here eating like a king, do you? No. That’s because I want you to do something for me.”
“Why, sir, you are my captain.”
“I’m also your future father-in-law, and as such I think it wise that you get a good look at the woman you are marrying.”
Hawke glanced across the table at Blanche, who was looking smug as a cat who’d just eaten the canary. “She looks very beautiful, sir.”
“That’s on the outside, Hawke—but you are now to learn what a devious piece of baggage my daughter is.” The captain leaned back and passed a hand over his forehead, made a slight groan, then slapped the table with his hand. “Sink me! A man must partly give up being a man to live with women!” Shaking his head, he went on, “Well, let’s have it out, my boy. When Blanche heard that you were taking the Lady into port as a prize crew, she came to inform me that she was going along as a passenger instead of aboard the Neptune.”
“Now, Father, I simply came to ask if I might have your permission,” Blanche remonstrated demurely, but the dancing light in her eyes confessed that her father had pretty well stated the truth.
“There it is!” Rommey spread his hands. “Had her mother not taken passage to New York on a faster vessel, she would no doubt refuse Blanche’s request. But what chance does a mere man have against this one? And y
ou’ll fare no better, I warn you, Hawke!”
Hawke smiled at the captain, reached his hand across to Blanche, and replied, “I am warned, sir—and I’ll take the risk.”
“Done you in!” Rommey grinned. “Well, I must tell you, my boy, that your engagement was somewhat of a concern to me. However, I must also say that it’s brought a father and daughter closer together than they ever were!”
“I’m glad of that—but what about—” Hawke hesitated. How could he say it delicately? “Well, there might be talk—gossip, you know? I mean your daughter and I alone...?”
“Oh, she’s been quite able to take care of that, Hawke!”
“It’s simple, sweet—I will share the cabin with the captain’s daughter. I mean, after all, the poor girl needs a woman at this time!”
“I’m sure your concern does you credit, Daughter,” Rommey acknowledged dryly. “But you’ll have it your own way. I don’t know how I’ll explain all this to your mother—with any sort of luck, the Lady won’t be too far behind the convoy. Now, you’d better get aboard the Lady—both of you. I’d planned to get under way at dawn, so I’ll say goodbye now.”
“Have a safe voyage, Father!” Blanche rose and went to put her arms around his neck, an act which pleased him greatly. He stood there with one arm around her, and put his hand out to the young lieutenant. He made a massive shape in the lamplight, and the years of rough living had toughened his features, but there was real affection in his face as he said, “I am entrusting you with a prize ship—but here is the real prize, my boy.” He patted Blanche’s arm and gave it to Hawke.
“I’ll take great care—and thank you, sir—for everything!”
“All right—off with you!”
He did not follow them, but in thirty minutes, they were in the captain’s gig on their way to the Lady. “Are you happy with your passenger?” she asked as they moved across the velvety waters.
The Saintly Buccaneer Page 21