Leopard (Fighting Anthonys Book 7)

by Michael Aye

  “Aye, should I have the skylight closed in case voices are raised?”

  Lord Anthony thought for a minute. “I’m tempted to say let the men hear what’s going on, so they’ll know everyone is held accountable regardless of rank. However, closing it would be the honorable and respectful thing to do.”

  ***

  FOR THE REST OF the day the ship’s company went about the work of putting Leopard and Comete to rights as best as they could. The wounded were brought on deck. Dr. Cornish thought the fresh air and sunshine would be better for their wounds than the stale air below. Gabe watched and wondered how the men could work so hard after going through such a battle as last evening.

  “They are just glad to be alive,” Dagan whispered. “Mourning will only worsen things. It’s good we have something to keep them busy.”

  Busy they were. The sound of hammers and saws echoed across the water as carpenters and their mates were making progress. The sail-maker and his men had their needles out, sewing canvas and repairing sails. The bosun had his mates busy with riggings, paint and tar. At sunset, Gabe called a halt to the work. The majority of the work needed on Leopard was done. She was ready to sail and fight. Comete still needed much work but she could sail, and with a larger crew fight if need be.

  Several of the ships in the squadron followed the flag’s suit and sent skilled craftsmen over to help. Phoenix also had to have much repair. She had taken on two frigates. Jepson on Revenant engaged one of the frigates while Lieutenant Kirk and Lieutenant Montgomery were able to engage the brigs. Both the brigs got away, one apparently coming to the aid of the burning Comete; the other sailed into the darkness. One of the Spanish frigates now sat low in the water, her decks all but awash. The other drifted, mastless. The seventy-four that engaged SeaHorse sank in the night. The remaining seventy-four never engaged in battle and, like the brigs, disappeared in the black of the night.

  “Boat ahoy!” The challenge sounded from SeaHorse’s watch. The reply rang out by Gabe’s cox’n, Leopard. Gabe climbed aboard the flagship, careful not to drop his reports. His brother was there to meet him. Dagan and Hex followed Bart to his quarters. A bottle of rum and three cups were all sitting on a small table.

  “I know a few lieutenants that would like to have quarters like these,” Hex volunteered.

  “It’s called position and seniority,” Bart japed. “’ow’s Gabe?” he asked.

  “He’s strained,” Dagan admitted. “He’s trying to write letters to the families of some of the dead. It’s not easy.”

  “I’s seen ’is Lordship fret over wording many a time. I’s seen them that felt guilty that they’s alive when so many ’as been put over the side.”

  In the admiral’s cabin, Gabe enjoyed a glass of hock. The white German wine was usually kept in the bilge by Silas. That made it cooler than room temperature but not chilled. While he enjoyed the wine he marveled at how the craftsman had made the long stem. Not every glass blower was as good at his craft. Looking over his glass, he could see his brother reading his reports and making notes he would question Gabe about later. They had already discussed the Dons’ poor gunnery.

  “I think in the dark, they must have thought us to be another seventy-four. Numerous shots had gone overhead at the start of the engagement while ours were aimed true. The deck received a lot of damage as guns were depressed,” Gabe said.

  Lord Anthony then picked up Gabe’s report and began to read. Nothing had been said about Sir Winston. Gil would address this subject when the time came. “So you consider Lieutenant Hawks a suitable prize master to send the Comete back to Antigua, do you?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “And why did you recommend Antigua as opposed to Jamaica?”

  “In truth or my official reasons?” Gabe asked. “Officially, I know Admiral Moffett assures the work done by the dockyard there. In truth, if she’s sent to Antigua, you will have greater control of the ship. She would make a fine command for one of your senior captains.”

  “Anyone in particular?” Gil asked his brother.

  “Captain Frostbrier would be my choice,” Gabe replied.

  “Not you?” Gil asked, surprised at his brother’s answer. “What would I do with Phoenix?”

  “Now, I’m sure you have several Captains who could fill the vacancy,” Gabe said, smiling.

  “Including you?” Gil asked.

  “Yes sir. I’m sure I would be in the mix. If indeed Leopard’s captain survives and is able to assume command of her.”

  “Do you like her?” Gil asked and then added, “I know a lot of people who feel the fifties have no place in line of battle. They do a fair job in places like the Caribbean where you deal with shallow waters. Do you think Leopard would have opposed a seventy-four in the daytime?”

  “No sir, I’m under no illusions.”

  “Then we agree,” Gil said, sounding more like the admiral than the brother. “I’m having all of the captains to dinner tonight and go over the reports we’ve been able to get from several of our officers and seaman who were being held aboard Comete while the Dons had her. It’s a shame so many of her officers were killed. Her captain and two lieutenants died in the first exchange according to Lieutenant Hawks.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  SEAMEN GATHERED ON THE fo’c’sle. The sun was going down, the darkness bringing a breath of coolness from the heat of the day. The sea seemed to be getting up as Leopard, Bulldog, Tomahawk, and Lynx sailed in a loose formation.

  They had just sailed past the Florida Keys and soon would head on a northerly course up the coast of Florida to Savannah. There, Sir Winston Kirkstatter would report to the Royal Governor. The two would then decide if Sir Winston would remain on station, using a frigate as his flagship and awaiting instructions from the Admiralty, or he might decide to sail back to England in the next dispatch vessel.

  Lord Anthony had taken statements from Lieutenant Hawks, the master, Mister Hayes, and the gunner. The statements along with the admiral’s report would be delivered to the admiral in Jamaica.

  Sir Winston had been aloof but was not vocal as he had been toward Gabe at Barbados. Bart, never one to hold back his thoughts in the privacy of Lord Anthony’s cabin, bluntly stated, “’E came in like a lion, now ’e’s going back like a lamb. ’E’s all aback, that’n is.”

  Lord Anthony frowned at the liberty taken by his cox’n, but in truth he agreed. Still, he hated to see the admiral humiliated. Had he been notified that Spain was now an ally of the Americans, things might have turned out differently…the almighty if.

  ***

  ON BOARD LEOPARD, HEX with his mandolin, and a couple of seamen sawing away at their fiddles had a jaunty little jig going.

  Singin’, blow, ye winds, in the mornin’,

  Blow, ye winds, high – ho!

  Clear away yer runnin’ ger

  An’ blow, me bully boys blow!

  No sooner had the three musicians ended the tune when a seaman called out, “Hex, be a good mate and play the one about the mermaid.”

  Hex plucked at a string tuning his instrument, “It’ll cost ye a swig of yer grog. Ye grog face villain.”

  This set several seamen to japing with their mess mate. Hex plucked once more, turning the tuning key until he was satisfied. “Half your ration it is now.” Then without waiting Hex and the fiddle players started.

  ’Twas Friday morn when we set sail

  And we were not far from the land

  When the Captain, he spied a pretty mermaid

  With a comb and a glass in her hand.

  Oh, the ocean waves do roll

  And the stormy winds do blow

  While we poor sailors go

  Skipping on the top

  And the lubber lie down below.

  “You have a happy ship, Captain.”

  Startled, Gabe turned. It was Sir Winston. “Aye, Sir Winston, but I can only claim a handful. The rest sailed under Leopard’s original captain.”

  “Neverthe
less, Sir Gabe, they are yours now,” the admiral responded using Gabe’s title. “They would give their all for you. I wonder what it would have been like had I a man such as you.” He then turned and left as silently as he appeared.

  “I think that was as close to an apology as you will get,” Dagan whispered. Gabe looked into his uncle’s eyes; piercing eyes that seem to look right into a man’s soul.

  When Dagan did not continue, Gabe spoke, “Come below with me, Uncle. I could use a cup of cocoa and one of Nesbit’s pastries.”

  ***

  “LAND HO!”

  “That will be Grand Cayman,” Pittman, the master advised.

  Gabe was not sorry to finally be back at the rendezvous point. Gabe and the company of ships had met up with John Jenkins and Zebra at the northern border of Florida, almost to Georgia. Sir Winston had transferred to Zebra and Gabe was almost sorry to see him go. The admiral had asked to use the service of Nesbit, understanding that while the man was Gabe’s chef and servant, he was also a man of education. He had had Nesbit make a fair copy of his report to the Admiralty, in which he was highly commendable of Gabe.

  He’d ordered Nesbit to not present his captain with the copy until he, the admiral, had taken his leave from the ship. Reading the report, Gabe felt vindicated and was only wishing something could have been mentioned in regards to Lord Skalla.

  After transferring the admiral to Zebra, Gabe sailed to Bermuda and then the small squadron weaved its way through the Bahamas. They spotted a fast schooner off the Grand Bahamas’ Island, but before Tomahawk could be ordered to investigate, the ship had clamped on more sails and was over the horizon in no time. They stopped at Nassau but left on the evening tide. They then made a sweep through several of the Bahamian Islands and cays, sending the smaller ships to look in at Eleuthera Island, which was very long but hardly a mile wide; Cat Island, San Salvador Island, Rum Cay, Long Island, Crooked Island, and finally Acklins Island before turning westerly passing Ragged Island, around Cuba and then southeast to Grand Cayman. Bulldog, Lynx, and Tomahawk had taken turns, often circling the islands before meeting back up with Leopard.

  They met several fishing boats along the way. The ship would heave to and they would buy some fish, crabs, and small lobsters from the fishermen. The King’s gold loosened up tongues where threats would have gained nothing. The islanders were amazed to find Lynx commanded by a black man. Feeling a kinship with Lieutenant Montgomery, they offered up more information than might have otherwise been obtained, even with the spreading of gold coins.

  The forenoon watch was being relieved. Lieutenant Bufford had just assumed the watch when the lookout called out again. Lieutenant Tolbert paused to hear the information before going down to a quick meal and nap. “Deck there! Flagship at anchor.” Damn, time for a bite but not for a nap, Tolbert thought.

  The water in the harbor at Georgetown was a deep blue. A white sandy beach seemed to stretch on as far as the eye could see. Gulls hovered overhead and then plunged into the harbor’s still water after some small fish. Gabe could soon see the flagship and others of the squadron.

  “Let’s look lively,” Gabe said to the master and Lieutenant Bufford. “Make sure the guns are unshotted when we fire the salute. I’d hate to be on the admiral’s bad side for holing his flagship.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Lieutenant Laqua had walked on deck, and seeing the rail lined with seamen, he snapped, “Mr. Jackson, clear those idlers away from the rail.”

  “Aye, sir,” the midshipman replied and hurried to carry out his order.

  “May we begin the salute, Captain?” Lieutenant Bufford asked. Gabe nodded.

  “Open ports, remove tampions,” Bufford bellowed. “Mr. Abraham, you may commence the salute.”

  Abraham, the gunner, walked from gun to gun, counting out the timing using the old ‘if I weren’t a gunner, I wouldn’t be here, number one fire’. The guns crashed out, firing the traditional salute. The slight breeze that blew caused the cannon smoke to drift toward the flagship.

  “I wouldn’t be smiling were I you,” Dagan said. “He may have a glass on you. If he sees you sneering, you might find yourself pushing wares from a bumboat.”

  “Aye,” Gabe replied, trying to hide his smile. “Mr. Vallin!”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “Pending my visit to the flag, if we are to remain in port a few days you may allow liberty.”

  “Aye, sir…ah!”

  “Is there something else, Mr. Vallin?”

  “Yes sir. I’m not familiar with the captain’s view on ‘wives aboard ship’.”

  “No wives, Mr. Vallin. I would hate to receive urgent sailing orders and have to weigh wives before we weigh anchor.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Hearing the captain’s remarks, several of the seamen laughed. “What’s ’e mean, weigh wives?” one of the newer hands asked.

  “Johnson, you slack-arsed idler you,” a petty officer rebuked the man. “What kind o’ bloody lubber, are ye anyway? Gawd!”

  Now it was Hex who had to smile. He looked at Dagan and swore, “He’ll latch on to some double poxed doxy and spend what little money she doesn’t take on mercury treatments.”

  “Better have one of his mates stir him toward the surgeon’s mate. See if he has a cundums for sale,” Dagan replied.

  “Aye,” Hex agreed, but secretly thinking, not before I check on it first.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  MARIE GALANTE WAS EXOTIC: a black-eyed, black haired woman whose skin was the color of a light coffee. A cup that was long on cream. A woman who was as bewitching as anyone Jacob Hex had ever seen; a widow…a young widow, whose husband was killed in a duel fighting with a previous suitor. That both men were killed enhanced the gossip that this woman was indeed a witch. A woman who Bart would swear made it necessary to put a Bible under your pillow to ward off the spells she could cast on a man. Hex was no different than any other man; perhaps being at sea weakened his ability to think straight. The minute he walked into the tavern and saw her sitting by an open window he was smitten.

  The sign above the door proclaimed the establishment to be The Forbidden Siren. The picture drawn below the name was that of a mermaid.

  “Somebody didn’t know about sirens,” Dagan said. “A mermaid has a woman’s upper body and a fish’s lower body, whereas a siren has a bird’s body from the waist down.”

  “Neither would do a poor sailor’s humors much good, would they?” Hex joked. That was before he saw Marie.

  After finding a table, the two ordered a tankard each and roast kid. While listening to Dagan, Hex found himself stealing glances at the witch woman who boldly looked back. Soon, she picked up a guitar and sang a sad ballad of the sea.

  A smile on Dagan’s face, he said, “No siren did ever so charm the ear of the listener as the listening ear has charmed the soul of the siren.” Hex stared at Dagan dumbstruck. “Shakespeare,” Dagan answered Hex’s unasked question.

  Not five minutes later, Marie walked to the table. Grasping Hex’s hand, she looked at Dagan and said, “You’ll excuse us, I’m sure.”

  Rising, Dagan bowed and answered, “I’m sure.”

  After taking a few steps, Hex stopped and turned, “You’ll see after the captain, won’t you?” Still smiling, Dagan nodded his affirmative.

  The next day, Hex went aboard Leopard to be greeted by the master, “Where you been, Hex? Dagan’s doing your duties.”

  “Aye,” was Hex’s only response.

  Gabe was sitting at his desk signing papers for the purser. “Captain,” Hex spoke. Looking up, Gabe paused with his quill in mid-air.

  “Yes,” Gabe said.

  “I would like to have a few days leave if it wouldn’t be an inconvenience, sir,” Hex replied.

  Damn, Hex is being so proper, Gabe thought. Not that he’d ever been anything else, but this was different. Almost like the first time he’d spoken to him about being the cox’n. “Of course, Jake, how many days do y
ou want?”

  “Ah…how long will we be in port, sir.”

  “A week, I’d guess,” Gabe replied.

  “A week then, sir,” Hex said.

  “Alright, but make sure Dagan knows how to find you.”

  “No worries, sir, I will stay in touch,” Hex replied.

  Ink dripped from the quill on to the report Gabe was to sign. “Damn,” he snapped.

  “Sir?” Hex stopped and turned.

  “Nothing, Jake, have a good time,” Gabe said.

  Smiling, Hex replied, “I intend to, Captain, I intend to.”

  ***

  A KNOCK WAS GIVEN and the marine announced, “First lieutenant, sir.”

  Vallin came in and handed Gabe a note, “A man is here from the island’s chief resident, Sir. He states he’s to wait for a reply.”

  Reading the note, Gabe looked up at Vallin, “There’s to be a ball at the chief resident’s house this evening, Con. We, you and I, are invited.”

  “Hmm, might prove interesting,” the lieutenant said.

  “Oh no,” Gabe said, shaking his head. “First, my cox’n and now my first lieutenant overflowing in humors.”

  “Shall I inform the man we will accept the chief resident’s invitation?” Vallin asked.

  “Aye, I’m sure his Lordship would frown did we not show.”

  ***

  A LINE OF CARRIAGES were parked along the jetty. Looking at Vallin, Gabe said, “It seems we are to be transported in style.”

  “Unless one of those carts further back is for us,” Vallin joked.

  “If it is we’ll find this tavern where Hex spends his time,” Gabe responded. “I’d love to see the woman who has snared my cox’n anyway.”

  A young, black livery servant stepped up to Gabe and Vallin. His breeches were red while his coat and vest were white with red trim and a red collar. He wore white silk stockings. His shoes were black with silver buckles. Taking a look at Gabe’s card he opened the door to the carriage.

  “The driver will take you to Pedro Saint James, sir,” the livery servant said.

  As they got in the carriage, Vallin commented, “An educated servant.”