Peregrine

by Aye, Michael

  “Such a feat with matches there on the mantle,” Buck declared. This brought forth more laughter.

  When the laughter had stopped Anthony spoke again. “As I was saying, I’m sure you all saw the dispatch vessel drop anchor. Well, in addition to the usual correspondence, she also gave passage to my new flag captain.”

  A look of dismay creased Gabe’s face then he realized the significance of his brother’s words. Addressing Buck, he grabbed his hand and shaking it exclaimed, “You’ve been made admiral!”

  Dagan began clapping his hands and the rest followed. Faith and Deborah entered the room to see what the excitement was about. Hearing the news, they too congratulated Buck with a hug and a kiss.

  Once the ladies departed Gabe, feeling devilish, asked, “Tell me, Admiral Buck, are we the only ones who know of your promotion?”

  “There’s a few who know,” Buck replied. “Is there anyone specific you’re speaking of?”

  “Aye, that pretty widow lady, Mrs. Olivia Cunningham; but to you she’s Liva, I believe.”

  * * *

  A captain’s call the next day at noon had Lord Anthony’s dining room crowded. Rumor was rampant as to why the sudden gathering. Once refreshments had been served, Anthony announced Buck’s promotion to the group. He then introduced the new flag captain, Sir Winston Swift KB. Once seeing the man, Gabe recognized him and realized why he’d looked familiar when he had had the fleeting glimpse as he was rowed from the dispatch vessel to the flagship.

  Captain Swift had been one of the captains on the board for Gabe and Markham’s lieutenant examination. He had seemed firm but fair. Still, he’d take some getting used to. Buck had been with Anthony so long he seemed like a permanent fixture. Well, Buck would let him know of the admiral’s ways.

  After the congratulations, Buck announced all those midshipmen who had passed the recent lieutenant exam. Most of the captains already knew. Of the two dozen who’d taken the examination, sixteen had been passed; of those, twelve had been made lieutenant immediately. The rest would have to wait for an opening.

  Lord Anthony then called the discussion back to order and announced the captured brigs, their cargoes, and the captured frigate would be sailed back to England as soon as the ships could be made ready for sea. “This shouldn’t take more than a couple weeks to get everything together. By that time, the dispatch vessel would or should be back and would sail with the group. Admiral Buck will hoist his flag on Peregrine for the return trip. Along with Peregrine, Captain Hazard on HMS Fearless will also be an escort vessel.”

  * * *

  For the islands it was an unusually cold day. The wind blew a rain that seemed to be coming down sideways and in sheets. The palm trees were bent double and dead palm fans blew across the narrow streets and walkways. Gone were the usual idlers who normally filled the benches outside the taverns. The young men were huddled up at home instead of buying rounds at the bar, running up their father’s tab.

  Hex tugged down his hat and pulled his tarpaulin closer. The crew for the captain’s gig were seating themselves and getting ready for the row ashore. Gabe had put off departure for an hour but with no letup in the weather he had to go, rain or not. A Navy captain did not keep the governor or the admiral waiting. He had been told to report at Government House at 3 p.m. It was now 2 p.m. If he had left at one, he could have had a quick lunch with Faith and maybe an hour of personal time together. Since the discovery of her pregnancy, Faith had been very affectionate and more than willing to share an intimate hour or so when the opportunity presented itself.

  Captain Taylor had returned with Lizard the previous evening just at dark. Lord Skalla had been taken ashore immediately. Gabe had little doubt that it was his return that necessitated this meeting.

  The gig was like a bucking horse. Gabe tossed his cloak over his shoulder as he made his way down to the gig, careful to not slip on the wet, slippery battens. He could feel the wind ruffle his hair and tug at his queue. Lord, don’t let me get tangled in my sword and fall arsehole over tea kettle into the gig, or worse, the ocean.

  Hex had the gig crew turned out well in spite of the inclement weather. The tossed oars were painted a bright white and stood in a perfect line. Each of the crew had their tarred hats pulled low and the checkered shirts were already soaked. Gabe felt a pang of guilt at having to rouse out the crew on such a day. Hex had stationed himself by the tiller after assuring his captain was safely in the boat. Seating himself in the stern, Gabe waved to Wesley, who had stood at the entry port until the gig shoved off.

  The tide was on the ebb and they were rowing against the wind. He’d give the men money to buy a wet before they returned to the ship. That would take a bit of the sting out of the return trip. Passing the flagship, Gabe saw his brother’s flag at the foremast. He was staring at it when the gig was suddenly lifted from the stern and launched forward. Water flooded over the bow. The oarsmen were tossed about and a cry was heard forward where one of the men’s arm was shattered.

  “Bail…bail men, use your hats or we’ll be swamped,” Hex shouted as water was up over his ankles.

  A small bucket lay next to Hex. Gabe reached for it and joined in the bailing. The gig was sluggish but maintained headway and soon the boat had been almost emptied. Once ashore, Gabe looked at his soggy uniform and wet shoes. He still had forty minutes. He’d go by his house and put on dry shoes. He’d have Nanny take a towel to his coat but otherwise he’d have to make his apologies for the uniform.

  * * *

  Rain beat off the window panes in Lord Ragland’s office. A small fire was in the fireplace. Seeing Gabe’s appearance, Lord Ragland motioned him closer to the fireplace. “Here, Gabe, get closer to the fire; see if it won’t help you dry out. I don’t want you to catch a chill.” Shivering, Ragland continued, “Not a fit day for man or beast.”

  Mulled wine was served and Gabe was introduced to Lord Skalla.

  Looking at the timepiece on the mantle, Lord Anthony said, “I’m concerned the flag captain is not here yet but you’ve stated you have another appointment, so Lord Ragland don’t delay the meeting any longer on my behalf.”

  “Thank you, sir. I do have another appointment so we will go ahead or rather I’ll let Lord Skalla give his report.” Turning the floor over to the foreign office agent, Lord Ragland whispered to a servant and brandy suddenly appeared. Apologizing for interrupting Lord Ragland declared, “The mulled wine is good but my achy bones cry for something of more substance.” A sniffer was poured for each of the men and the meeting resumed.

  “As I was saying,” Lord Skalla began, “we anchored at the mouth of the river and sent a boat in with a lieutenant under a flag of truce. We were soon approached by a guard boat and escorted to Norfolk where we anchored for the evening. General Manning was requested and on the evening of the third day made his appearance. He had been in Wilmington, North Carolina. Had we known or been told we could have met him there. Regardless, after our conversation I produced documents signed by Captain Anthony and Captain Jepson. General Manning invited me to supper the next evening. He sent one of his men to accompany me to his home. There we supped with a gentleman who was said to be Witzenfeld’s privateer backer. After several questions were asked which I answered to the best I could we were interrupted by a knock at the door. It seems Witzenfeld’s main lieutenant had been rounded up. He was forced to answer some harsh and incriminating questions. When asked why he’d been party to such underhanded schemes the man simply replied, ‘For my life. Had I divulged what was going on I’d have been a dead man. Me and several others wanted no part in the scheme but we did want to live. Our lives and that of our families wouldn’t have been worth a farthing if we’d told.’ The sincerity in the man’s voice spoke volumes. In the end, General Manning gave me a letter charging Witzenfeld with treason and piracy. The man’s Letter of Marque was revoked and his backer said for what he’d cost him he’d hang the whoreson himself. The bottom line, gentleman, is we’ve been given the go-ah
ead to try the man as we please.”

  A general discussion ensued and it was decided that Lord Ragland would have jurisdiction as the man’s actions were treasonable and he was considered a pirate.

  “We’ll try him Friday and hang him Saturday at sunrise. Give the local folks a bit of entertainment.”

  Anthony had no qualms with regard to hanging the man, but he’d never been one for public spectacles. Before he could voice his objections, there was a knock on the door.

  Answering the door, Lord Ragland turned to Anthony. “It’s your flag lieutenant, Admiral. He says it’s urgent.” Mahan was ushered in and Anthony knew from the man’s paleness something was terribly wrong.

  Lord Ragland had poured a glass of brandy. Handing it to Mahan, he said, “Take a drink man and then tell us what the matter is.”

  Taking the glass and downing the amber liquid in one long swallow, Mahan looked at Anthony and said, “It’s the flag captain, sir. I fear he’s drowned.”

  An uncontrollable shiver shook Gabe as he recalled his near accident.

  “Damn,” Lord Anthony cursed. “Are you sure?”

  “Fairly certain, sir. A couple of the gig’s crew managed to swim to the nearest ship. The rest of the men and the gig are still missing.”

  For all the men in the Navy, it was precious few that knew how to swim. For two men to have survived it was strange indeed.

  “Keep a close lookout and watch the beaches. Something might turn up yet.” By that Anthony meant bodies frequently washed ashore. Damn, he thought again, the man hadn’t even unpacked his chest yet.

  Chapter Thirty

  A memorial service was held for Captain Swift and the other drowned sailors the next day. It was strange holding the service for a man that was hardly known to you. It was only fitting the service be held aboard SeaHorse. The captain’s ship, but a ship he’d never sailed…never even weighed anchor. As a sign of mourning, the yards were set cockbill.

  As Lord Anthony, Lord Ragland, and finally, SeaHorse’s chaplain spoke, the men were silent. Each thinking, but for the grace of God, he may have been one of the dead.

  One sailor had whispered to his mate, “Ole King Neptune must have been looking for a new crew to take the captain and the tars.” Dagan heard the comment and realized just how deep superstition ran in the common hand. “Why else would a squall hit the harbour when it did, if it wasn’t for the king of the deep needing sailors,” the hand whispered.

  Gripping a shroud, Gabe looked to the sky. The gray, angry sky of yesterday was gone. The sun’s rays streaked down and reflected off the calm harbour waters. Calm, clouds, storm, squall. No one knew what the morrow would bring. Off to larboard was a flock of squawking gulls. Gabe watched as they hovered, then dove for some tiny fish that made the mistake of being too close to the surface. The chaplain had raised his voice to be heard over the squawking. A futile attempt, as the gulls came closer to the ship, drowning out his voice. Finally they flew away. By that time the chaplain had given up and asked the assembly to bow their heads in prayer. Once the service was over, Lord Anthony’s captains and Lord Ragland met in the admiral’s dining area.

  “Silas.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Broach a bottle of that bourbon General Manning gave me.”

  “Aye sir,” Silas replied, a bit reluctant to pop the cork.

  A bottle would only go around once with all these people. That didn’t leave even a good swallow and there were only six bottles left. Well, he’d see Bart didn’t get a glass and that was no error.

  “A nasty business,” Anthony said, addressing his captains. “We’ll have to make some changes until I can get a new flag captain. Any recommendations, Admiral Buck?”

  Pleased that Anthony had used the term admiral, Buck cleared his throat before he answered. He’d taken a gulp of the bourbon and felt the burn all the way down the back of his throat. A slight hack and his voice returned. “I would be willing to stay on until a new man could be sent.”

  “Nonsense. You’ll do just as your orders state. Captain Markham.”

  “Aye, my Lord.”

  “Your first lieutenant, is he ready to command?”

  “Aye.”

  “Good. You will be my temporary flag captain and your first will have temporary command of Dasher. Tell the man the first permanent command that comes along will be his.”

  “Thank you, my Lord. You honour me.”

  Amused at Markham’s discomfort Anthony thought, Your words are correct but your tone tells the truth. Of course, Anthony couldn’t blame the man. To be a dashing frigate captain one day and tied to the admiral the next with little expectation of more than a tedious day to day existence was a change most would wish to avoid. A time would come when the flagship would up anchor and attend some mission, possibly even do battle with the enemy, but those possibilities were the exception.

  Well, the good thing is, it would look good on his record, and it was only temporary.

  After the discussion of who would fill in for the departing Buck, the upcoming trial for Witzenfeld was discussed.

  “How do we inform the man’s family of his disgrace and execution?” Lord Ragland was asking.

  Lord Ragland was having a difficult time, knowing the family; he wondered just how much one family could take. Anthony knew the difficulty of writing letters. They had gone through Captain Swift’s belongings and found a recent letter from his sister. That was the only correspondence found in his chest so Anthony surmised she was the man’s next of kin. Gabe had promised to hand deliver the letter as the lady lived in Portsmouth. That was their home port and, at any rate, Gabe would visit his mother who lived in the city. Well, it will bring an end to an otherwise dreadful chapter in their lives.

  Anthony’s mind had drifted and it took him a moment to realize the governor was still talking about Witzenfeld’s family.

  “Aye,” he responded. “An end.”

  * * *

  Witzenfeld was defiant until the end. The trial lasted only a day and would have been less had not the defense brought forth a point of order. It dealt with a matter of jurisdiction. Since the man had “run” from his service with the Honourable East India Company, did they not have the right to be a part of the trial? It was decided the procedural question might delay the carrying out of the man’s sentence but, from a legal point of view, would not change the verdict. The decision, based on the major from the provost marshal’s office, was that to delay carrying out the sentence was cruel and would cause undo suffering.

  Markham hearing the major’s legal view whispered to Gabe and Jepson, “Since when is carrying out a hanging sooner than later cruel?”

  “Aye,” Jepson agreed. “But as long as there’s breath there’s hope.”

  What was surprising to Gabe was the man’s last request. Hex and Lum were playing the fiddle and mandolin as Nanny cleaned off the table. Gabe had just lit his pipe and Faith was sitting in the chair next to him reading. The knock when it came was unexpected and the message more so.

  “It’s Witzenfeld,” Gabe announced to Faith and the others. “He’s asked to speak with me.”

  “Must you go?” Faith asked.

  “It’s hard to turn down a condemned man’s last request,” he said.

  Hex had put down his instrument and gathered a cloak and Gabe’s sword. In the dresser where Gabe had laid his hat was a pistol. Hex had recently cleaned the gun and knew of its existence. He looked at the gun, turned away then as an afterthought, turned back, took the pistol and tucked it into his waistband. There was very little crime on the island but the gaol was situated in the worst part of Bridgetown. It would never hurt to be prepared, he thought.

  Following Gabe out the door, Hex leaned over and whispered to Lum, “Find Dagan. He’s playing cards with Bart. Send him to the gaol.”

  Lum picked up his hat and departed out the rear door. The guard at the gaol, a sergeant, apologized for rousting out the captain.

  “We generally t
ry to make they last hours easy, zur. Sometimes they wants to talk, sometimes they don’t. I ’ope the captain understands.”

  Gabe assured the sergeant he did and was led down a dimly lit passage with cells on both sides. At the end of the passage was a wooden door. Passing through the door was a small open area. Beyond that a set of bars ran the width of the room. The cell was dark, damp, and smelled moldy. High on the back wall was a small window which let in enough fresh air to make the room and cell bearable. Beside the door were a small table and a single chair for the guard. When a man was sentenced to death a twenty-four hour guard was placed outside his cell.

  Inside Witzenfeld’s cell a small candle burned from a holder mounted on the wall. In addition to a wooden cot, a single chair was all that made up the furnishing inside the cell. Seeing Gabe enter, Witzenfeld made his way to the bars and stretched out his hand as if to shake hands in greeting.

  The guard was quick to say, “Beggin’ the captain’s pardon, it’s against the rules to touch the prisoner.”

  Nodding his understanding Gabe spoke, “You sent for me?”

  “Aye that I did; I didn’t believe you’d come. I’ll ask you to forgive my humble surroundings,” Witzenfeld stated, his arms making a resigned gesture. “It insults a gentleman’s nostrils to be sure but, alas.” Again he made the resigned gesture. Seeing Gabe’s impatience, Witzenfeld said, “I’d offer a glass but without money the scoundrel of a guard brings only water.”

  Gabe looked at Hex who was standing just to the side. With the slightest of nods Hex fished out a coin and gave it to the guard. “A bottle if one is available.”

  Eyeing the coin, the guard replied, “Thank you, Gov’ner, I’ll be right back.”

  “Where to start?” Witzenfeld’s voice was very humble and subdued. “My family has been a thorn in your side for some time have they not, Captain Anthony?” Not giving Gabe time to answer the man continued. “I never got along with my brother. He was a coward through and through. He only got commissioned because of the family name. Of course that was before my problems with the Honest John Company. Still, as much as I disliked the shit, he was my brother.”