by Michael Aye
“Thanks for the warning,” Gabe replied. “It certainly is a pleasant drink. The first time I’ve had rum with any of those extra ingredients.”
“I’ll have the man here mix you up some to take back to the ship. I must tell you though; it doesn’t keep long in this heat,” Eden said.
I’ll have Nesbit put it in the bilges to keep cool, Gabe thought but didn’t mention it.
“The major,” Eden started again, “tells me he will finish with the emplacements today.” Gabe raised his glass in acknowledgement. “Those guns, or cannons I guess is a better word, will certainly help several of our citizens sleep better at night.”
A small breeze gave a momentary bit of comfort from the sun glaring on the harbor waters. Gabe had removed his uniform coat and hung it from the back of his chair, his hat lying on the table in front of him. He’d been waving a fan made from a palmetto leaf to keep cool, but the little breeze did more than all the fanning Gabe had done. Possibly it was the rustle of the breeze that brought the tavern’s proprietor out. The breeze died with his approach. Damn man, must you chase off the breeze, Gabe thought.
“May I get you gentlemen anything else?” the man asked.
“Yes,” Eden replied. “Make Sir Gabe a jar of both the coconut and pineapple rum.”
“Yes sir.” The man wheeled to do as bid, mentally calculating the sale.
Once the man was gone, Eden started again, “With the guns, we will now have to train a militia of sorts to work them. Captain Montgomery has volunteered his gunner’s mate to train our militia. No one has yet thought about that, Sir Gabe.” Leaning back, Eden stretched his legs and then casually propped his feet on an empty chair. Without realizing it, Gabe followed suit after taking another taste of his drink.
“Another thing,” Eden started to say and then thought it funny and chuckled. “Another thing, Sir Gabe, for those guns to really be of use, we’ll need to set up a night watch and a way to alarm the volunteers when they need to be manned. Ah…the desire for a means to defend ourselves. Now that we have it, who will be willing to volunteer? May have to train some of the free men. Pay them wages, I expect.”
Gabe saw the humor in Eden’s commentary. “Well, Mr. Eden, with the guns just being there, it ought to help some sleep easier.”
“You’re right, of course, Captain. Do you see Jamaica sending a company of soldiers here?” Eden asked. Then seeing Gabe’s amused look, Eden answered his own question. “Not before hell freezes over, am I correct?”
“I think that sums it up,” Gabe said smiling. “Damn, is this stuff getting to me? Suddenly, everything seems funny.”
“In truth, aside from the privateer, who used Captain Neil and Captain Albright so sorely, we’ve not had any problems,” Eden said. “In fact, this McCollough is a chivalrous sort. He sent a well-mannered officer ashore with a list of food stuff and coin to pay for it all. He was not among those at Cat Island was he, Sir Gabe?”
“No, sadly enough he wasn’t. Nor was he at any of the other ports we looked into. In spite of many of his crew freely naming various rendezvous ports, we found no trace of Captain McCollough or his ship, Rattlesnake. I think those with loose lips were doing just what the captain ordered, throwing us off. McCollough hasn’t been as successful as he’s been by letting his crew run off at the mouth,” Gabe replied.
“I wondered,” Eden admitted. “I think it was just a bit of bad luck that he happened into Georgetown at all. Had Neil and Albright not went aboard his ship, asking what business he had, they may never have been treated so harshly. When I think about it, Sir Gabe, and you can see for yourself, we don’t have a lot to entice these daring buccaneers. Were it not for cotton, turtle meat, wood and sarsaparilla, we’d go hungry. As it is, Jamaica takes the majority of our few products in trade. Would you care for a good cigar, we have both Jamaican and Cuban seed tobacco?”
“Cuban would be nice,” Gabe answered, thinking now the small talk is over and Eden is ready to get down to business.
After the cigars had been lighted and a few smoke rings were blown, Eden spoke again, “Sir Gabe, I would like to speak to you in a confidential manner, if I may?”
Holding the cigar between two fingers, Gabe lifted the glass at his hand and finished its contents. “Without knowing the subject it would be hard for me to promise confidentiality,” Gabe said.
Eden thought this over for a few seconds. He nodded his understanding and then started speaking. “Your Lieutenant Vallin,” he said, “is he the kind we could trust with my niece’s hand?”
Gabe took the cigar from his mouth and looked at the tip, seeing that he had an even burn. He leaned back a second and then answered, “I have to admit, sir, I’ve only known Lieutenant Vallin for a few months. I have it from a good source that his family is well respected in Scotland and England. They are held in high regards by the crown prince himself, I’m told.” Gabe didn’t think it necessary to say his resource was Lord Skalla of the Foreign Service Department. “You are aware of Lieutenant Vallin’s lineage. I understand his father gives him an allowance of one hundred guineas annually. I also know he’s done rather well in prize money and he’s been mentioned in the Gazette. From reports sent in by his commanding officers, I can say without hesitation that he is a first rate seaman and naval officer. Should this war last much longer, I can easily see him captain of his own ship. Were he in England, he probably would have already been given a command. As you know from your party, Mr. Eden, Lieutenant Vallin conducts himself as a gentleman.”
“I must agree with you there, Sir Gabe. I appreciate your candor. I assume you know and understand the reasons I asked.”
“Yes, I do,” Gabe replied in a firm voice. “Had I not known I would have taken exception to the question.”
A chill went down Eden’s back when Gabe spoke. Eden thought to himself, I don’t think I want to be the one who causes this man exception. The visible scars and streak of white in his hair didn’t come from playing whist or going to the theater.
“Thank you for understanding my reasons, Sir Gabe.” Looking at his guest’s glass, Eden asked, “May I offer you another glass?”
“I think not, Mr. Eden. I’m to dine with Captain Montgomery aboard Lynx tonight. I don’t want to stumble and fall going up to the entry port.”
“Does that happen?” Eden asked. “Do men fall into the water?”
“Not often,” Gabe replied with a smile, “but a few have gained the deck with a wet shoe or britches leg.”
“No more then,” Eden said. “I couldn’t have our brew causing you to embarrass yourself. I will call for your libations to be taken to your ship. I had hoped, Captain,” Eden said, using Gabe’s rank and not his title, “that you would dine with us tonight. I have the feeling an announcement will be made. I think…I know Lieutenant Vallin would have liked for you to be present. I will pass on your regrets, of course.”
Gabe stood and as he reached for his coat, he felt dizzy. Is it that damnable drink, this cigar or both? His head cleared quickly.
As he put on his coat, he noticed Eden smiling, “Sneaks up on you doesn’t it?” He reached out to shake Gabe’s hand and then held it a second longer before he released it. “I want to tell you, Captain, that Captain Montgomery is doing well. His being here is a blessing and has put many of our citizens’ minds at ease. We are honored to have him here.”
“Thank you,” Gabe responded. “I’ll pass on your kind words.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
IT WAS NOON AND time to eat, but more importantly, it was time for the grog issue. On some ships the fife and drums announced the time, but Leopard had only a fair to middling drummer. They did have a fiddler, who could saw his strings and was a favorite among the hands. When the bosun’s mate piped up spirits, the fiddler jumped in with a saucy rendition of Nancy Dawson. The cooks from the different messes quickly made their way to the rum tub to draw rations for their messmates.
Joshua Nesbit had witnessed the rush of men on num
erous occasions. The sound of men’s feet on the deck at the prescribed time gave a hint to the importance of the grog issued to the men. Thinking aloud, he said, “I find it hard to comprehend why men will rush to obtain such swill.” Not realizing Gabe had walked within hearing, his laugh caused Nesbit to turn.
“Not up to your standards?” Gabe asked.
“Begging your pardon, Sir Gabe, but to answer your question, no. Though, as with anything I guess one would acquire a taste if there’s nothing else available. But why not something other than diluted rum,” Nesbit said.
Taking time to think, Gabe finally responded, “It’s my understanding that it started as a replacement for beer or wine, which didn’t keep well in these climates. Not only did the rum keep, it seemed to improve with age.”
“I see,” Nesbit said. “One more question, Sir Gabe. How did rum become grog?”
“My father, Lord James Anthony, said Admiral Vernon constantly wore a boat cloak made from grogram. He was soon to be nicknamed ‘Old Grogram’. It was he that decreed the rum issue be diluted one to four. From that time on, the drink was called grog.”
“I see, sir. As I recall, Lord Anthony’s cox’n sets great store by the drink,” Nesbit said.
Gabe laughed again. “Bart loves his ‘rumbustion’ alright, but unless it was in a pinch I doubt he’s drank grog in years. My brother told me once that Bart always went to sea with two chests. One of which had a distinct clink of glass when handled roughly.”
“I’d hate to be the sod who handled it too roughly,” Nesbit replied with a smile.
“You and me both,” Gabe admitted. “Hopefully, the man could swim, as Bart would surely toss the poor soul over the side.”
“Would you care for a glass of something a bit more satisfying than the grog, sir? I’ve prepared a light meal for you knowing a proper meal sits heavy on a man in this heat,” Nesbit asked.
“Yes, something with a chill on it if you will,” Gabe replied. He leaned back in his desk chair waiting on his refreshment. With luck, they’d be in Port Royal before the sun went down.
***
LORD GILBERT ANTHONY, VICE Admiral of the White, stepped down from the carriage followed by his flag captain, Stephen Earl. They had been invited to dine with Admiral Peter Parker and Lady Parker at their private residence atop of what was to be called Admiral Mountain.
Sitting high up as it did, there always seemed to be a refreshing breeze. Tall palm trees were situated along the roadway up to the house and were also planted where a shade graced the porches. Arriving as they did, without anyone noticing their arrival, the voice…agitated voice of a woman could be heard.
“Cornwallis makes no bones of the woman being his mistress. She was his slave for heaven’s sake, now he treats her like an equal.”
“She’s a doctress,” Parker said, trying to calm his wife.
“She’s his mistress,” Lady Parker said again.
“She is his housekeeper,” Parker said, trying to calm his wife.
“I bet she cleans up,” Lady Parker threw back.
At that time a doorman, whose attention had been on Admiral and Lady Parker, noticed the guests had arrived. Speaking so that his voice carried, he rushed to the door announcing that the guests had arrived.
Anthony and Earl were shown in, to be greeted by a flushed Peter Parker. Shaking hands with Anthony, he whispered, “Why women can’t let well enough alone is more than I can understand.”
Anthony smiled back but didn’t say anything. Lady Deborah would not have had second thoughts on the subject. She would not have approved, but would have felt it was not her place to make judgments. Thinking on it, Lord Anthony thought his wife was the most diplomatic woman he’d ever met. More so than his mother and his sister, and though he’d not say it, far more than Faith. Livi, Admiral Buck’s soon to be wife, was much like Deborah. Maybe it was from all the years in the islands. If the war kept going and they continued their stay in the West Indies, would women like Lady Parker and Faith have a change of heart? Only time would tell.
***
THE EVENING MEAL WAS outstanding. A turtle soup, followed by garden vegetables that Lady Parker said their gardener grew on the grounds.
“We’ve set up a cistern to hold rain water and we use that to water the garden,” she told her guests.
A rack of lamb had been fixed island style with both a sweet and spicy flavor. This was set off by hot bread cooked to a golden brown. A bowl of fresh butter sat on the table to spread over the tasty bread. They had coconut custard for dessert.
After the meal, the men retired to a side porch to light up cigars. The porch was situated on the east side of the house away from the setting sun. A zephyr caused the fronds of the palm trees to rustle. Parker was telling Anthony that he’d be going back to England soon.
“My wife is most anxious to return, whereas, I have mixed emotions,” Parker said.
“I’ve been told you are in line to pick up Vice Admiral,” Lord Anthony stated. He’d heard this from Lord Skalla.
“It has been mentioned,” Parker admitted, “but I’ve learned not to trust rumors.”
The sound of a galloping horse could be heard. Admiral Parker rose up and said, “Who could be using a horse so ill, galloping up here?”
“Must be important,” Lord Anthony said.
“Aye,” Parker agreed.
A young naval lieutenant dismounted from the horse. The reins were given to a servant, who walked the winded, blowing animal before watering it.
“Sir,” the lieutenant said, handing a note to his admiral. “The Porcupine,” seeing Lord Anthony’s questioning look, he added, “armed merchantman, fourteen guns has just returned to port. She relates she just barely avoided capture by a French brig.”
“One brig?” Parker asked, with annoyance in his voice.
“No sir, the brig was on the far side of a large convoy. The captain stated his lookout thought he could make out both French and Spanish sails.”
“I see,” Parker said. He then asked, “Has Cornwallis been sighted?”
“No Admiral, but one of Lord Anthony’s ships was entering port, HMS Leopard.”
“Good,” Anthony responded. “Admiral Parker, we will set sail at first light.”
“Thank you,” Parker replied.
Turning to the lieutenant, Anthony said, “I’d like to talk with Porcupine’s captain.”
“We thought you might…or Admiral Parker might,” the lieutenant said.
Parker waved his hand in deference, “Lord Anthony has the ships, I don’t.”
“There’s a few in port,” the lieutenant replied, trying to be positive.
“Humph…the best I could do with those is scuttle them at the entrance to the harbor, and block the entrance. Otherwise, they’d make a nuisance and little more to a frigate or ship of the line. Lord Anthony, I’ll have the carriage brought around while I tell Lady Parker I’ll be gone. Lieutenant, let your horse rest for a while. I’ll see that Lady Parker offers you some refreshment. After that, you can return to Port Royal,” Parker said.
“You are most kind, Admiral,” the lieutenant replied.
As the carriage pulled away, Parker leaned over to Anthony and whispered, “Lieutenant Smyth comes from a good Kent family, but he’s somewhat of an embarrassment to them. His father is an old friend, so I’ve found a place for him here. There’s no concern on my part of leaving him alone with Lady Parker as he much prefers the Windward Passage.”
Shocked, Anthony said, “You allow him to serve?”
“In a manner of speaking. Before we left England, I sat him down and told him his sexual preferences would not be tolerated on my navy base. What he did in Kingston was none of my business, unless it came to reflect on my command or the Navy in general. He knows he will never rise above lieutenant. He has…associates in Kingston that tell him with his education and knowledge of Navy organization, he could get a job with the Honest Johns and post to India, where his particular activ
ities would not be an impediment. He might even be able to return to England as some haughty nabob,” Parker replied.
Anthony nodded his agreement but his mind was on the convoy. He was glad Gabe was back. Leopard’s weight would surely be needed…if they found the convoy. Damn, he thought, what would I give for better information, something to do away with the ‘ifs’?
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
THE MORNING MIST GAVE temporary relief to what promised to be another scorching day. Gray clouds hung low over Port Royal Harbor but Pittman, HMS Leopard’s master, promised they’d clear by mid-morning. As Leopard was the last ship in harbor, she would lead Lord Anthony’s squadron out of the harbor.
When Lord Anthony, with Admiral Parker, returned to HMS SeaHorse, a general message for all captains and first lieutenants to repair on board the flagship was sent out. All of Anthony’s ships were already provisioned and ready to sail, including Leopard.
Flag Captain Stephen Earl would have been very surprised if any ship in the squadron had not been fully ready for sea. He had known his lordship for a long time and found him to be a firm but fair commander. Yet any officer whose ship was not prepared to sail against the enemy would likely find himself on the beach. Knowing Leopard had just returned to port, he inquired privately if Gabe had any dire needs such as fresh water before sailing.
“No,” Gabe had replied. “I wouldn’t want to sail to England with our supply but we’ve enough for this task.”
Leopard was now easing out of harbor. She would reduce her sails and await orders as to her position once the squadron cleared port. Frostbrier, on Phoenix, would no doubt be out forward, trying to locate the enemy. Tomahawk, under David Davy; and Bulldog, under Greg Kirk would undoubtedly be on the flanks but in sight of the ship.
As the anchor was catted home, Leopard’s sails bellowed out. The wind was sufficient for working the ship. Small wavelets lapped against the hull as Leopard picked up speed.
“We’ll pick up a gentle wind once we are clear of the harbor,” Pittman volunteered. “We will make five or six knots, unless I miss my guess. As close as we are to hurricane season, it would not surprise me to pick up a moderate breeze by noon.”