Peregrine

by Aye, Michael

  Lady Deborah had met the widow on several occasions and liked her bluntness and lack of pretense, even though it was said she was in the top five of the island’s wealthiest. It would take a strong man to handle her, Deborah thought. After years of running the plantation, she would not be one to be content playing the dutiful little wife. Buck had the strength but the sea had Buck. But, as much could be said about Gil, yet while she didn’t have him one hundred percent, neither did the sea.

  Ariel looked around at the gathered guests and quickly asked Gabe, “Is Lieutenant Davy not coming?”

  Damn, thought Gabe, I should have invited him. “I’m sorry,” he finally managed. “Lieutenant Davy is attending his duties tonight. I’m sure he will make himself available for future engagements.”

  Ariel looked disappointed and as she walked away, Faith whispered, “Liar.”

  Gabe winced. He quickly excused himself and spoke to one of his brother’s servants and asked him to round up Bart if he was still in the house. When Bart showed up, he and Gabe spoke quickly and quietly. Then Bart was gone.

  The group made polite conversation, with Frostbrier providing the latest news and gossip.

  “Tell me, sir,” Lord Anthony requested. “What is the general attitude at home now that the news of the French has joined the Colonials?”

  Frostbrier paused as if considering the depth of the question before answering. “The military seems to be concerned, sir. It will undoubtedly further strain our resources. It seems a given we will have to fight the Frogs on two fronts. However, once you get past the Navy and Army, the discussion is met with ambivalence. There appears to be a general lethargy from the public and even some in Parliament don’t appear to be alarmed.”

  “They damn well will be when the Frogs cross the channel or worse, when Spain sides with them against us.” Realizing he’d spoken with profanity and vehemence, Sir Victor bowed his head in embarrassment. “Please forgive my outburst and profanity, ladies. Lord Anthony, I beg your forgiveness for my breach of behaviour.”

  Lady Deborah was quick to speak, “Nonsense, Sir Victor. I wish more were as concerned and loyal as you are. I applaud you, sir.”

  “Thank you, my Lady. You are most gracious.”

  Both wine and claret was offered with small cuts of cheese and delicate cuts of meat and seafood.

  Dinner had just been called when a doorman announced, “Lieutenant Davy to see Captain Anthony.”

  Ariel’s eyes immediately lit up. Gabe excused himself then returned, making a show of folding a paper and putting it inside his jacket. Lady Deborah stepped forward and welcomed the new arrival.

  “Shall we set another place?” she asked the young lieutenant.

  “I’m not sure,” he stammered. “I was told to deliver an urgent message to the captain, Madam.”

  This caused Anthony to look at Gabe, who gave a quick wink causing his brother to smile.

  “I see no reason for Lieutenant Davy to rush back to the ship now that he’s completed his errand,” Gabe said.

  “Good,” this from Anthony. “Lieutenant Davy, would you honour us with your presence for dinner?”

  “My pleasure, your Lordship.”

  During the meal, Frostbrier and Raleigh were kept busy, only it was more on what was the latest fashion and what plays were the talk of London.

  While the dinnertime buzz was going on, Faith leaned over and whispered to Gabe, “You made that happen didn’t you?”

  “Aye, one of the benefits of being the ship’s captain.”

  “There are other benefits as well,” she whispered. “Some you’re liable to reap later tonight.”

  * * *

  After dinner, the men gathered as Lord Anthony broke out cigars and a decanter of brandy. Lieutenant Davy appeared unsure of what to do. He didn’t feel comfortable with his superiors but didn’t wish to stand around with the ladies.

  This time it was Faith who came to the rescue. “Lieutenant Davy, do you know the game of whist?”

  “Yes, Madam.”

  “Good. There’s a cool breeze on the side porch. Would you mind taking Ariel there and teaching her the game? That way we will have a ready fourth when we decide to play.”

  “It will be my pleasure,” he responded as he and Ariel fled the room, worried Faith might change her mind.

  The conversation continued between Anthony, Sir Victor, Frostbrier, and Raleigh; this time it was a definite political conversation. Feeling a bit devilish, Gabe sidled up to Buck. “Liva, is it?”

  “Aye.”

  “She’s a very attractive widow.”

  “Aye.”

  “She’s absolutely a prize catch.”

  “Aye.”

  “Damme, Captain Buck, is ‘aye’ the only word you know?” This from Francis Markham who had walked up unnoticed.

  “Nay. I know more, but what she wants is more than I can give. Besides…she’s rich.”

  “And you’re not, with all the years of prize money you put up.”

  “Well there’s that,” Buck admitted. “I told her to give it till after the war. She said she was a woman with a woman’s needs and she didn’t know if she could wait. Therefore, I said don’t, and I haven’t been back.”

  This was a shock to Markham and Gabe. Finally Gabe spoke. “I apologize, sir. It was rude of us to press the matter, even in jest.”

  As the evening grew, Frostbrier stood and said, “Thank you for such a wonderful evening, sir. I wish I had orders to serve under your flag.”

  “I do as well, Captain. You have no idea how I wish for another ship to replace our sixty-four that was lost.”

  Making their way home Gabe thought of Buck and mentioned him to Faith. “Captain Buck sure looked lonesome tonight.”

  “He won’t be for long.”

  “He won’t?” Gabe asked, not sure he’d heard correctly.

  “That’s what I said,” Faith flippantly replied.

  “How do you know?”

  “Cause I saw the note Liva gave to Deborah to give to Buck. He’s to give Sir Victor time to drop her off ... drop her off, not come in. Then when the lights are out, he’s to come to the door.”

  “Well, maybe she is willing to wait.”

  Not understanding what Gabe meant Faith replied, “Not for long I don’t imagine.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Francis Markham, Captain of HMS Dasher, plopped down in a chair and called for his servant.

  “A glass, and sooner than later.”

  He’d just left a meeting on the flagship where he was told he was being placed in command of the convoy leaving in the next week or so. Damme, he thought, and damn Gabe too. He’d hung around after the meeting and harassed his friend.

  “Couldn’t happen to a better man…no worries or boredom. No worries about having a good sleep because you won’t have time.”

  Had Buck not called Gabe, he’d probably have bounced a belaying pin on his smirk head, so he would. Now all he could think of was all the miles of herding a bunch of mules to Nova Scotia. Blast those merchants who sent ships to sea with hulls so ripe it would be a wonder half didn’t flounder. Undermanned and overloaded, let the Navy protect us and for free. It was a poor card he’d been dealt but not one that others, including Gabe, hadn’t already been dealt, he realized.

  Ships from England carried goods to keep the war going. Then they’d head back to the West Indies to pick up cargoes of sugar, tobacco, and nutmeg, in addition to spars and masts that had been picked up in North America.

  Sitting down at his desk after downing a glass of hock and ordering another, Markham went over the sheets given him by Buck titled “Signals and Instructions for Ships under Convoy”.

  “You’ll be escorting thirty-three,” Buck had said. “That’s ten less than arrived. The other ten will go to Antigua then return and wait for the England bound convoy.”

  Well, he’d review and add anything he desired. “Remember,” Buck had admonished, “keep it simple. Thirty-three g
rocery captains and all thinking they know better than you.”

  He’d warn them to keep up. Stragglers were fair game for privateers. Any ship that didn’t keep up at night would likely find himself a prize at dawn. The Americans, and now the French, both knew their business all too well. He, Markham decided, would not be answering to Lloyds for negligence on behalf of some merchant.

  * * *

  The first hint of daylight showed on the eastern horizon, a typical West Indies dawn. Markham’s first lieutenant could be heard bellowing out orders and men rushed to do their task, not wanting to feel some bosun’s mate’s starter.

  The master reported, “The anchors hove short, sir.”

  “Any of our children appear ready to make sail?” Markham asked, speaking of the merchantmen.

  “No sir,” the master sadly answered.

  It might wake the admiral but Markham felt he had to establish authority at the onset.

  “Mr. Hawks,” Markham called to his gunner. “I want a gun loaded with a bag of powder and fired toward the merchants. Unshotted mind you.”

  “Aye,” the grinning gunner replied and called to his mates to prepare one of the bow chasers.”

  “Umgh!”

  “Yes,” Markham acknowledged his master.

  “Might wake the governor same as the admiral, sir.”

  “That it might, sir.”

  Lord Anthony would not be awakened. He was already awake and watching through the stern window. He did jump when Dasher’s gun was fired but continued to watch as the convoy ships quickly made ready to get underway.

  “Got ’is point across ’e did,” Bart said watching the convoy as well. “’E didn’t make no friends firing that gun I’d wager.”

  “No, I don’t imagine he did but he let them know he’d brook no lack of diligence to his signals.”

  Watching until the convoy was under full sail, Anthony could smell coffee, so he sat down at his table. “Bart, ask Buck to join us if it’s convenient and then have them signal for Gabe and Jepson to repair on board. Silas!”

  “Aye sir.”

  “I’ll have coffee now but I expect three for breakfast.”

  “Aye, I’ll put on more bacon. Would ’is Lordship care for a bit o’ cheese and a pastry while we wait?”

  The yes was on his lips but his hands were on his belly. It had, as Bart was fond of saying, “grown ’siderable” over the last year. He needed to exercise more and eat less. Did it…would it seem inconsistent with his rank to put in an hour each morning walking around the ship? He’d think on it.

  Seeing Silas still waiting for an answer, he said, “I think a small pastry might be in order. And Silas, you know how Buck and Jepson like your coffee.”

  “Aye sir,” the servant replied, and then added under his breath. “ Same as you do.”

  * * *

  The convoy got underway on the early morning tide. It was several hours later when two more of Lord Anthony’s ships weighed anchor and set sail. The sails disappeared over the horizon just as the sun set. More than one glass was trained on the departing ships until they vanished from view. Lord Anthony closed his glass with a snap and handed it to Bart.

  Sensing Anthony’s mood, Bart started to say something encouraging. However, he remained silent. Gabe and Jep were sailing their ships deliberately into harm’s way. They were to seek out the enemy and engage them in battle. When ships fought, men died. This was on his Lordship’s mind. If something were to happen to Gabe, Lord Anthony would never forgive himself. At times it was best to be near…but silent. Bart was silent.

  A small observation deck was built over the porch of a small house sitting on a slight rise. Lum and Nanny both stood by as Missy Faith watched her man…her brave frigate captain, sail away. She knew from the start of her relationship with Gabe that she’d always be in competition with his mistress…the sea. She had spent many hours talking to Deborah about the rivalry they each shared but could never win.

  “I don’t understand the hold the sea has on our men,” Deborah had said. “But I’d rather share them with the sea than lose them to it.”

  “Damn!” Faith shouted when she could no longer see the sails on her man’s ship. She rose suddenly and felt a wave of nausea sweep over her. Lum was quick to grab her as she staggered slightly.

  “You feeling bad?” Nanny asked.

  Fanning herself, Faith took a couple of breaths and replied, “Just some vapors. I feel fine now.”

  Lum could feel the cold clamminess in Faith’s hand so he continued to support her.

  “Get outta da way you old beast,” Nanny shouted at Samson. “Lawd, he done got so big he blocks da doh.”

  Samson looked up, yawned, and then moved to let them pass.

  “Don’t talk so rough to my baby, Nanny.”

  “Yo baby. Child, dat dog near big as a horse. Baby…humph! You has spoiled him all right, worse than any child I ever seen.”

  Sensing he was being talked about, Samson looked up with his big old sad eyes, and then licked Faith’s hand a few times. She stopped and knelt to pet the brute and was rewarded by several licks across the face.

  “Kisses better than Gabe,” Faith laughed, feeling much better now.

  “Lawd, child! Yo mama’s gonna look down and wonder where yo raising went. I promised to look after you when the Lawd took her home.”

  “You do, Nanny, you and Lum.”

  “Yeah well, Lum go put on some water to heat. After all that slobber she’s gotta be scrubbed.”

  “Oh Nanny, Samson is clean.” Then to emphasize her words she leaned down and kissed the dog again.

  “It’s a good thing Captain Gabe is gone, child. He see you do dat he ain’t never gonna kiss you again. Hurry up wid dat water, Lum.”

  * * *

  Gabe sat under the skylight enjoying a glass of sweet lime juice. Nesbit had promised supper within the next quarter hour. Dagan sat across from Gabe with a list of possible replacements for Paco, Gabe’s cox’n who’d stayed behind in Saint Augustine.

  “I’ve talked with the possible replacement,” Dagan was saying, “and I believe Jacob Hex is the best prospect. He’s bright, he can read and write, and was Mahan’s cox’n.”

  “Why didn’t he stay on board the flagship with Mahan?” Gabe asked. “As the new flag lieutenant, Mahan could have gotten him on board.”

  “I asked him that very question,” Dagan replied. “Said he didn’t want to get barnacles on his bottom.”

  This caused Gabe to laugh. Hearing the laugh, Nesbit thought to himself as he set dishes on a serving tray, Never hurts to start out on the right foot.

  The smell of roast mutton smothered in onions, buttered carrots, potatoes, and hot bread filled the air, as one by one, Nesbit uncovered the dishes as he set them on the table. Gabe had been kicked back in his chair munching on nuts and cheese. He now rocked forward, sitting all four chair legs firmly on the deck, his mouth watering over the prepared dinner.

  “Would you like a glass of wine, sir, or do you wish another glass of lime juice?”

  “Wine…wine would be fine.”

  Dagan nodded his agreement. Nesbit had long stopped inquiring if Dagan would be present for a meal. If he was there, he ate. If not…well, leftovers never lasted long with the captain.

  * * *

  The convoy was in sight the following day at dawn’s first light. Gazing to larboard Gabe could make out Pegasus. She was on station, as Gabe knew she would be. He’d not want to be the officer on watch who had let a helmsman drift off course…not with Jepson as captain.

  “Looks like a bunch of pregnant whales, Captain.”

  “Is that so, Mr. Gunnells?”

  “Aye sir, wallowing along as they are under a soldier’s wind. It’s not surprising we caught ’em quick as we did. Not a scrap more canvas than they can get by with.”

  “I’ll bet Captain Markham is about to bust a gut.” This was from Lavery.

  “Aye,” Gabe replied. He could picture his f
riend trying to hurry along a convoy that was used to a leisurely pace.

  Once the sailing in convoy practice had begun, the merchants had no need to try to outsail the competition to the next port. Prices would all be the same. In the old days the first ship to arrive got the best prices for their goods. The convoy system had in effect levelled the playing field and neutralized competition for the most part. What they lost in prices they gained in keeping the ship. While the system was not perfect, it did cut losses to privateers significantly. It was not the duty any Royal Navy captain would choose, however.

  As the sun rose, the ships sailed through a sparkling sea. At times the sun’s rays seemed to dance across the small waves. A shout was given as some crew member spotted a school of porpoises. The school swam alongside for a while then, as if tired of the ship’s slow progress, they effortlessly outpaced the frigate and were soon lost from sight. An hour or so later, a flying fish came inboard hitting a seaman in the chest. A shout of alarm from the unsuspecting seaman brought a chorus of laughter from his mates. Gabe went below to enjoy the last of the morning’s coffee. It was just lukewarm but he didn’t mind. He’d drunk cold coffee on numerous occasions and had come to like it that way.

  A knock on the cabin’s door was followed by the sentry’s announcement, “Seaman Hex, zur.”

  “Come in,” Gabe motioned with his hand.

  The seaman came forward and stood at attention.

  “Relax, Hex.” Gabe wanted the man at ease as they talked. “Do you know why you were sent for, Hex?”

  “Aye, I think so, sir. Belike the cox’n’s duties.”

  Gabe nodded, “Nesbit, a cool glass for Hex.”

  When the glass of lime juice arrived Gabe motioned for it to be set on the table. “Sit down, Hex. Do you like lime juice?”

  A grin creased the stocky sailor’s face, “It’ll do to wet your whistle, but it’s not a proper drink, sir.”

  Gabe immediately liked the open candidness of the man. “And what would you call a proper drink?”

  Hex seemed to be in thought, and then replied, “There are several answers that could all be right, sir. If I was out with me mates, rum is the only drink there is; if I was out with a lady, not some floozy, a glass of wine or maybe ale. But if I was around gentlemen, the only thing I’d consider would be bourbon whiskey.”