by Michael Aye
Leopard had twenty-four pounders on the lower deck, and twelve pounders on the upper deck, ten twenty-four pound carronades on the quarterdeck with two more on the forecastle. They would have sail and gun drills today and tomorrow and if the master, Mr. Pittman, was right they’d reach Jamaica about mid-morning on the third day.
Gabe had spent most of his career in the Leeward and Windward Islands off the Caribbean, but he’d never been to Jamaica. He had considered passing through the chain of the Leeward Islands and taking a peek at Puerto Rico to see if he could spot any Spanish ships. He would then pass through the Mona Passage between Hispaniola and Puerto Rico and go west to Jamaica, but the risk was too great. His orders were to find Lord Anthony’s squadron, make him aware of Spain’s involvement in the war and to place himself under his Lordship’s command. With the clouds already hanging over him, Gabe thought it wise to follow his orders.
“Lynx and Bulldog are in sight, Captain.”
“Thank you, Mr. Laqua. I shall be below if you need me.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
***
MIDSHIPMAN GLENN WATCHED THE last grains of sand drain through the glass and expertly flipped it over. The marine sentry who guarded the sand glasses rang the bell three times; an hour and a half had passed in the forenoon watch. It was soon after that, when the lookout called, “Land ho.”
A smile appeared on the master’s face. He was spot on. The lookout had spotted land. Seeing his new captain arrive on deck, Pittman volunteered, “We’ve sighted Jamaica. What the lookout has spotted is the Blue Mountains. Port Royal is where we will anchor. It is a large natural harbor and is protected by a spit of sand called the Palisades. Buccaneers used to use Port Royal as a base for their raids. It was once said that Port Royal was the most sinful place on earth — the only thing that ran more freely than the whores was the rum. The pirates made it a rich place as the town was filled with looted gold, jewels, and other plunders, most of it off Spanish ships. Humph, it’s no wonder the Dons have joined the Colonials. Get a little revenge on the crown for giving all the sea robbers protection. Of course, the crown had merchants in place furnishing the rum and whores for the pirates to squander their plunder on.”
“You seem to know a lot about the pirates, Mister Pittman,” Gabe said.
“Aye, I does, Captain. I used to sail with Morgan.” Gabe must have looked dumbstruck as the master smiled and then winked causing Gabe to laugh.
“Hear that, mate,” one of the men said. “Sailed with Morgan ’e did. He admits it, told you the bugger was old.”
“Yes, you ’id,” other mate replied.
“Morgan lived back in the 1600’s, it is now 1780. Well see, ’e is old then, ain’t ’e?”
“Never mind, now get back to work. ’ere comes Lieutenant Vallin.”
Pulling into Port Royal, it was soon evident that Lord Anthony’s squadron was not there. However, Gabe was called to the flagship, HMS Bristol. Speaking to the flag captain, Gabe was sent ashore to the Admiralty house to deliver the news about Spain in person to the admiral.
HMS Bristol was a fifty gun, fourth rate. She was, in fact, a small ship for a flagship. Gabe thought he remembered she had been Admiral Parker’s ship when he was but a commodore. Some men become very attached to certain ships and thus he’d kept her as his flagship. If Gabe’s memory served him right, Bristol was Leopard’s sister ship. Both were built by the Royal dockyard at Sheerness.
Gabe’s uniform was plastered to him from all the sweat it took to make his way up the stone jetty and toward his destination in a sweltering heat. Gabe was guided to a large waiting room that was cool compared to outside. Gabe thought, as he leaned back in a rattan chair, it might be the coolest room on the island. The Admiralty house on Jamaica was much like the one on Antigua, with white jalousies over windows, marble floors, and high ceilings. He wondered if the wooden jalousies help keep the room cool. He doubted that they’d help much if a hurricane landed and tossed things about.
“Sir Gabe,” a voice called. Had it called twice? The cool had caused Gabe to get so comfortable he’d become drowsy. He jumped to his feet, grabbing his hat before it hit the floor. The clerk smiled. “It does get comfortable in here.” Gabe smiled back, thinking, ‘a clerk with a heart.’ At White Hall, he’d have been passed over for the next in line. Of course, he was the only one waiting at the time.
“Damme, just damme,” Admiral Peter Parker bellowed, when he heard Gabe’s news. “With Admiral Cornwallis off chasing the French it leaves us damn short of ships.” The admiral paused, as he was deep in thought. “Yes, Lord Anthony needs to know. With Grand Cayman lying under the belly of Cuba, the Dons could likely sweep down at anytime.” Fumbling with a dry quill, Parker seemed deep in thought. “It’s no wonder the Dons have allowed the American privateers the use of their ports,” he finally said. “They’ve been in bed with the Americans all along, just biding their time.” Gabe had kept quiet, drinking his lime juice while the admiral rambled on. “Admiral Kirkstatter was by here. He told me a less than charitable tale about you, Sir Gabe.” Damn, Gabe thought, will the man slander my name in every port? Parker turned from where he’d been gazing out of his office window and faced Gabe, “One of his captains told my captain the truth of it as did Lord Anthony when he dropped anchor. Just remember, Sir Gabe, you can’t always control what others may say. Just stay the course and more often than not, people will consider the source.”
“Thank you, that was kindly said, Admiral.”
Smiling, Admiral Parker said, “I’d ask you to dine with me this evening, but I know you’re anxious to find Lord Anthony.”
Gabe made his way back to Leopard thinking they had more than enough fresh water to last them the short voyage to Grand Cayman, but did Bulldog and Lynx. He’d have Vallin find out and then thought, no, I will have them aboard for a quick officer’s call and refreshment. There’ll be plenty of time for that and we can sail on the tide.
As Gabe was rowed out to his ship, the watch challenged the boat, “Ahoy.”
“Leopard,” was the quick reply. Would he get used to the title before he had to relinquish command. HMS Leopard was a good ship…but so had been Trident.
CHAPTER SIX
CAPTAIN, SIR.” VALLIN TURNED as Gabe walked up to the binnacle. Vallin had learned in just a short time the captain was a hard riser and not a morning person.
After glancing at the compass, Gabe turned toward his first lieutenant and muttered, “Morning.” Vallin gave his polite reply but didn’t launch into some rambling report that was very obvious the minute the captain walked on deck, most of which had surely been heard or seen from the skylight or stern windows in the captain’s cabin.
Rain had suddenly appeared in a downpour with a fierce driving force that made the skin sting. As quick as it came, it moved on, but the sails and riggings still dripped and drained into the scuppers. It would be hot and muggy when the sun rose. The captain looked about the ship. He knew every gun was manned and cleared for action. It never changed for Con Vallin, this uncanny feeling, almost sinister, knowing that when the sun rose you might find yourself staring at an enemy fleet ready to blast you to kingdom come. Did the captain have these same sensations?
Unless the captain spoke, the only audible sounds were those of the ship as she moved like a phantom in the deep darkness before dawn. Vallin was sure his captain had walked the quarterdeck and watched too many dawns to need somebody feeding him useless information. Of course, Dagan had dropped a hint that Gabe never faced the early morning in a good mood.
Captain Anthony stood on deck, now silent after the brief greeting. His cox’n was close enough to hear any whispered word. It seemed a strange relationship, the captain and his cox’n. A bond that was not seen very often…a bond that only happens when two men have shared great hardships together or when a man saves another’s life. He’d seen captains who were fond of their cox’ns but the bond was not there.
Lieutenant Laqua had hinted i
t seemed to run in the family. Lord Anthony’s cox’n was something of a celebrity. Laqua swore he’d heard young lieutenants call Bart sir. He also hinted it would be a foolish man to invite trouble with either of the cox’ns. Nor could a man think he could be rude or try to hurt one of the Anthony’s without going through their cox’n first. It was said a few had tried, but Laqua didn’t know of any survivors who’d bragged about it.
At the wheel, Vallin heard a helmsman speaking to the master, “It be lightening up now.”
“It will be a hot one today,” Pittman, the master, was saying to the captain. “Rains gone and other than being hot, we’ll have a fine day, I’m thinking.”
“Do you know these waters?” Gabe asked the master.
“No, Captain, can’t say that I do, but the charts say deep water unlike the Bahamas.”
Hearing Pittman’s voice so cracked at times, it sounded like he was a croaking bullfrog. Even by naval standards Pittman was an old hand, with a bald pate with gray white hair over his ears and down to his collar in back, his belly huge and rotund, face and hands like leather and eyes that squinted from looking into the sun for so many years, worn by years of fighting the wind, the sea, and the enemy. Surely, he’d put enough aside to buy a tavern or ale house.
“Deck thar, Bulldog and Lynx on station.” After a moment, the lookout shouted again, “Sail, sail off the weather beam.”
“Shall I go up?” Vallin asked his captain.
“No, give your lookout time. He must have good eyes to make out sails in this haze,” Gabe said.
A few minutes later, the lookout called again, “Looks like a schooner, sir, she’s changed tack and closing.”
***
IT WAS COOL SITTING in the admiral’s cabin aboard HMS SeaHorse. Maybe just getting out of the sun and into the shade of the cabin made the difference. Anchored in the harbor with Georgetown in the distance, the flagship had hatches open, awning and wind sail had been rigged and very little movement could be seen as the sun was directly overhead at midday.
“So all pretense of neutrality has been abandoned, and the Dons are out,” Admiral Lord Anthony was saying.
“That makes it even more dangerous for our people on these islands.”
“Well,” Lord Anthony said, and then paused as he held his glass toward Silas for a refill of his lime juice. Once his glass was full and he had taken a swallow, he continued, “At least, I don’t feel so bad shooting at the Dons and Frogs. I can tell you, I’ve often been in anguish when the men I’ve fought and killed spoke the same language as I do.” Gabe, Captain Earl, and Lieutenant Mahan listened without interruption.
“Aye,” Captain Earl volunteered after a moment of silence.
“You’re right, my Lord, and it only adds to our problem with the privateers,” Lieutenant Mahan, the admiral’s flag lieutenant added.
“I agree, Patrick. In fact, I’m sure their ranks will increase with both the Spanish and French joining in. Gabe has had to deal with that this past year.”
Lord Anthony then spoke to his flag captain, “Call all our captains aboard. Since Tomahawk has returned, they should all be at anchor.” Earl gave a slight nod indicating his Lordship was correct. “With Gabe here, and Leopard’s added weight, we’ll be able to send out two patrols that will be able to oppose anything other than a fleet.”
“Aye,” Earl and Mahan said in unison.
Looking at his brother, Lord Anthony asked, “You don’t agree, Gabe?”
“Yes sir, but I was just thinking, Leopard is a borrowed ship.”
“No, Gabe, she is a warship in which she and her captain are under my command.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Gabe replied.
Lord Anthony smiled but wondered if Gabe had too much on his mind. Was he still plagued with Kirkstatter’s accusations? Damn it all, he should have let Bart do away with the sod. Well, what was done was done. Gabe would have to act as he’d been trained or I’d have to put someone else aboard Leopard. Not a pleasant thought, but this was not a pleasant time, it was war. When Lord Anthony realized the cabin had gotten suddenly silent, he changed the subject. “Gabe, tell us about this new officer? A black man, you said.”
“Yes sir, Lieutenant Leonard Montgomery.”
***
THE GREAT PYRAMIDS OF sails on Leopard, the flagship, and other ships sailing in formation were impressive to Lieutenant Laqua. As accustomed as he was to such sights, he wondered what a landsman would think. Would he be in awe? What about the privateers? Would they scurry away at the sight? He’d mentioned his thoughts to Dagan.
“No, they’ll just choose their prey more carefully. That little ship that we saw, you can bet she’ll spread the word. They’ll pass the word along and other ships will soon be hull down spreading the word. They know the trade routes, and they know when to strike, and they are also very good at it. We have the army and the ships, but they have the knowledge. They know where the coves are, the inlets, and waterways that lead into rivers and places to hide. They know how to make use of these smaller, faster vessels. They’ll not stand up to a ship-to-ship action with a ship of the line or even a frigate. But that’s not their type of war. They swoop down, and as time allows, they take what they can. It is then up to us to find them,” Dagan said.
“I see,” Laqua replied.
“No, you don’t, not yet,” Dagan said. “We’ve been at this since ’75. It’s now 1780. We have been at war with the Colonials for five years. Some said it would be over in six months. It’s not over yet, Lieutenant, and a lot more men will die before it ends. Think of the mates you’ve lost. You’re an officer now because of some of those men. But remember, it could be you next. No one is promised tomorrow.” As Dagan walked way, Laqua thought, damn’d if that didn’t take some of the shine off my new gold.
***
GABE WAS SIGNING PAPERS in his cabin. He would call all hands to witness punishment soon. Not something he liked at all. The purser had placed the man on report for cursing him and being disrespectful. Both men were from Leopard’s original crew. Looking at the punishment log, it seemed the purser was involved a lot. He’d speak with the man himself later.
Right now he was thinking of the route they were taking. They had left Grand Cayman and sailed east, so they would pass north of Jamaica and just to the south of Santiago de Cuba. They sailed between Cuba and Hispaniola using the Windward Passage. They’d then sail through the rough and tricky Mona Passage, round Puerto Rico, pass the Virgin Islands and head nor-west, sailing past San Juan and its great fort and harbor. Gil was, in reality, inviting the Dons to come out if they were in port. Lynx and Bulldog made a pass through the Virgin Islands looking for privateers.
A knock on the door caused Gabe to look up as the marine announced, “First lieutenant, zur.”
As Vallin entered, Gabe spoke first, “Time for punishment.”
“Aye sir.”
Gabe rose and putting on his hat and coat, he spoke, “I’m going to have a talk with that damn purser. He’ll change his ways, at least while I’m captain.”
“I’ve already taken Craft aside, sir. I expect he’ll change his ways,” Vallin said.
“Good,” Gabe replied. He was glad Vallin was the wall between the captain and the rest of the ship. That he’d decided to speak to the fool purser without being told to spoke well of his abilities. Did they really call Craft the crafty arse?
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE BOSUN’S PIPE ECHOED throughout the ship as the word was passed, “All hands lay aft to witness punishment.” Discipline was necessary on a ship, and at times the cat had to be let out of the bag, more on some ships, less on others. Gabe’s ships had always fit in the latter category. He’d trained his officers to handle matters when they could. Taking a man’s rum ration for a week or making him do some extra duty was frequently enough. Craft was not one of his officers. If they stayed together long enough, the purser would find the captain would be quick to hold him accountable.
Gabe stood at
the quarterdeck rail, his lieutenants made a line to his right and the midshipmen next to them. Gabe nodded at Vallin, who called, “Uncover,” to the officers and crew. Gabe then opened the Articles of War, reading the necessary charges and articles that dealt with the infraction, finishing with, “He shall be punished according to the laws used at sea.” Replacing his hat, he ordered, “Two dozen lashes.” Not a great amount to some but enough to rip the flesh from a man’s back.
The bosun had two of his mates lash the man to a grate, his shirt was stripped from his back so that he was naked to the waist. Gabe felt bile rise in his throat as the cat-o-nine tails was pulled from its red baize bag. Crawley was the seaman being punished. He was not a young man. It was said he could hardly hear. He was so thin; it looked like his skin was stretched over his bones.
“It was his hearing,” Hex said, that had precipitated the infraction. The purser had spoken to Crawley as his grog was being issued. Not responding, the purser grabbed Crawley and jerked his arm causing the old seaman to drop his cup. Crawley, not knowing who’d grabbed him, cursed, “Ye damned sodomite.” Now he stood at the grate. Once he was stripped and made fast to the grate, Gabe ordered, “Do your duty.”
The lashes were laid on. Each lash swung with authority, a crack being heard each time the tails of the cat bit into the naked flesh. Almost like an omen, the sky turned gray and the wind quickened. The master-at-arms had just counted fourteen when the lookout shouted, “Sail ho! Sail off the larboard beam.”