Leopard (Fighting Anthonys Book 7)

by Michael Aye

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  VICE ADMIRAL LORD ANTHONY stood on the quarterdeck with Bart just to his right. No one questioned Bart’s presence. The admiral was there, therefore, Bart was there…forever, at his Lord’s side. The ship was a beehive of activity. To a landsman it would appear like mass confusion. Men were at the capstan bars, others gathered below the masts. Petty officers growled at a seaman here and there. Captain Earl looked at Lord Anthony who nodded. No word was spoken but Earl knew the admiral was ready to get underway from his mere nod.

  “Mr. Neal, get the ship underway.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  As the orders were passed, the boatswain mates started their divisions. “Hands aloft, loose topsails.”

  As the topman went aloft, Captain Earl ordered the bosun, “Break out the anchor, Mr. Hyde.”

  “Heave,” Hyde ordered smacking his hand with his cane to emphasize the order. As men heaved and strained their backs, the capstan started turning, and soon the dripping cable made it on board, brownish water falling to the deck. Another order, ‘loose headsails’, went up once the cable was inboard. High above the deck, canvas was released coming down swiftly.

  Looking up at the men spaced out on the swaying yards, Anthony spoke to his cox’n. “Remember your days in the tops?”

  “Aye,” Bart answered, “them was the good ole days. Not sorry they’s in the past, though.” Anthony eyed his cox’n; it was not often he’d make such an admission.

  “Anchor’s aweigh, sir.” This from Neal, the first lieutenant. SeaHorse, free of her anchor, started to swing around. “Man the braces,” he ordered.

  The orders were repeated by the bosun’s mates. “Look lively, you lubbers. The admiral stands yonder. Barnes,” a bosun’s mate yelled. “You look like some old woman.”

  The anchor was soon catted and made fast. The sails were drawing and SeaHorse surged away.

  “Let her run, Mr. Neal,” Earl ordered. “Let’s take advantage of the wind.”

  “Aye sir.”

  The master looked over at his helmsman, “This ain’t no scow, this be a SeaHorse.”

  ***

  ONE BY ONE, THE squadron’s ships followed the flagship out of the harbor. The ships seemed glad to have the wind and with little effort were making eight knots. By mid-morning, a misty rain fell that lasted until noon. The mist soaked the sails and the ships picked up another knot. The sun finally broke through the clouds and the canvas and deck planks seemed to have steam coming from them.

  Gabe was in his cabin signing the mountain of papers the purser and his secretary had accumulated for him. The stern windows and skylight were open in an attempt to pull in a little breeze. Hex had broken out Gabe’s pistols, his long rifle, and swords; oiling and wiping them down.

  Nesbit had brought a glass of lime juice for both Gabe and his cox’n. “That’s the last of the limes, Sir Gabe.”

  “We’ll be home soon and you can buy more,” Gabe said, and then thought, what I am saying. I may not even have a ship a week from now.

  ***

  THE DAWN ROSE WITH a fresh breeze. Always moody at this time of day, little more than a “Good morning, Captain,” was said as Gabe mounted the quarterdeck.

  Whereas Con Vallin loved the early morning and all its possibilities of what the horizon might bring, he’d learned his captain didn’t, and he’d in fact found out that Captain Sir Gabriel Anthony was a hard riser. After he’d first been appointed as Gabe’s first lieutenant, he’d made the mistake of saying, “Good morning, Captain, a wondrous day awaits.” Gabe looked at Vallin and snarled, “That remains to be seen, Lieutenant.” Dagan had been behind Gabe and made a motion for Vallin to ignore his captain’s remarks.

  Gabe saw Dagan’s gesture and spoke again, “My uncle apologizes for my bad behavior, Mr. Vallin, whereas it should be me. Please accept my apology. It was rude.”

  It was the first time Vallin had ever been apologized to by a captain. It also demonstrated that Dagan held more sway over the captain than anyone, including Lord Anthony.

  As soon as the horizon was found to be clear, the master approached his captain and the first lieutenant. “I’m concerned about the weather, sir. I’ve been watching the weather glass. The mercury has been dropping some over the last few days. There’s no longer the twice daily rise and fall, now it’s just down. The same observation was noted by every master in the squadron.”

  George Jepson signaled and got permission to close within hailing distance of the flagship. He and Lord Anthony held a close relationship. His opinion was one Lord Anthony valued and trusted greatly. Not that he didn’t trust SeaHorse’s master.

  The sky was now covered in a reddish haze, with the sun only breaking through at intervals. Taking up his speaking trumpet, Jepson shouted across the water. “I believe we’re in for a real blow, my Lord. A hurricane is in the making, I believe.”

  Anthony waved to acknowledge he’d heard. He then turned and spoke to Captain Earl and the master, Waters. He picked up the trumpet and spoke to Jepson, “My master agrees with you, Captain Jepson. He says he’s never seen the Caribbean sky thus.”

  They were now at a point the squadron would go more southerly, while Leopard and Bulldog would head in a nor-easterly direction to Antigua.

  “I would come about and run before the wind,” Jepson recommended. “I feel the storm will likely follow the trades through the Indies. It may even veer to the Bahamas.”

  “Understood,” Lord Anthony replied and then turned to his captain. “I trust George to know the weather, Captain Earl.”

  “Aye sir, I do as well. I think it would behoove us to take his advice.”

  “Very well. Signal the squadron. We’ll come about and run for it,” Anthony said.

  Overhead the sky looked like someone had taken a brush with red paint and made a swipe across it. The sea started to get up. At first, with gentle rollers that became heavy and slammed against the ship’s hull, hurling spray on board soaking several seamen. The ships had finished coming about and were taking station on the flag when the wind died.

  “Damn this perverse weather,” Pittman, Leopard’s master cursed.

  The entire ship’s crew could feel the master’s frustration, his nervousness. Gabe, like his brother Lord Anthony, was concerned about the welfare of their family as were many of the others in the squadron. Captain Davy, who’d had little more than a quick honeymoon with Ariel before weighing anchor.

  Where the ships had lain lifeless on the water when they’d been becalmed, they now moved as each swell, and each wave, slammed into the hull. As the waves increased, the bows of each ship were pushed around so that now the flagship was pointed amidships to Leopard. Tomahawk and Bulldog pitched bow to stern at times, and they’d roll violently.

  “So much for running before the wind,” Vallin swore.

  “It’ll come,” the master returned, “and when it does you won’t much like it.”

  “I don’t like it now,” Vallin replied. “Captain, permission to rig lifelines.”

  “Might be a good idea to send down the topgallant yards and mast,” Pittman added.

  “I was thinking the same,” Gabe stated. “Call all hands, Mr. Vallin, let’s be about securing the ship as well as we can. I’d not like hatch covers flying about, or worse, the cannons.”

  As the sky changed to a reddish orange, an almost coppery color, the men aboard Lord Anthony’s flagship came alive in their efforts to make their ship as secure as possible. Thick, heavy ominous clouds were moving fast overhead. The wind was getting up and freshened steadily. The sails were double reefed. Throughout the squadron, it was the same. The captains had the crews making their ships as ready as humanly possible for what nature was about to throw at them.

  On board Leopard, Gabe heard his stomach growl, he was hungry. He’d only eaten a pastry along with a cup of coffee. The men must be hungry as well, he thought. “Let’s get the hands a quick meal and then put out the fires,” Gabe ordered Valli
n.

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Mentally, Gabe clicked off the things that had been done in preparation. Relieving tackles had been hooked to the tiller in case the wheel lines parted. A portable compass had been installed with a lubber line laid out to indicate the ship’s head. A lantern was rigged and hung so that the compass could be read. The big guns had been made fast using double lines on the breeching, tackles, and muzzles.

  The anchor was catted and fished, secured with double rings and shank painters. A plug had been jammed into the hawsehole and caulked with greased oakum. Tarpaulins were placed in the weather riggings to give the watch-standers some shelter from the winds. Long as they lasted, Gabe thought. The last of the lifelines were being rigged on the upper deck as he watched.

  A lifebuoy was made fast to the deep sea lead line with the reel secured aft. Should a man fall overboard, the life buoy was the only chance he had. Slim as it might be. A sea anchor was made ready. The carpenter had just checked the mast wedges to make sure they were not loose. Pumps had been made ready and the pump wells were sounded. Tarpaulins were stretched over hatches and they were battened down. Canvas covers had been put over the boats. Aloft, the royals and upper studdingsails were got out of the riggings. The tops were cleared of all extraneous gear. The topgallant yards and mast were sent down. Preventer braces were rigged. The fore topmast staysail sheets were doubled. Lastly, the mizzen gaff was struck and the boom securely lashed to its crutch amidships.

  Damn, it made Gabe tired just thinking of all of it. The sense of danger had made the crew work feverishly with petty officers overseeing each task. Anything not done to their liking was done again until it was done to their satisfaction.

  “It’s yer life we’re trying to save you fish lipped sod,” a petty officer ripped a seaman who was battening down a hatch. “Ought to let your arse drown but you’d likely take one of me mates with your lubberly soul and I’d not like that.”

  Lieutenant Vallin approached his captain, “Would you like to make a walk through the ship, sir? I believe we have time.”

  “Yes,” Gabe replied. “I’d like to speak to the men.”

  As the two men walked, with Dagan and Hex following, making their way through the ship, Gabe was surprised at how many of the men’s names he’d come to know. Each man was trying to hide his fear and felt better knowing the captain had taken the time to speak to them.

  One of Trident’s old hand spoke to Dagan, “What about it, mate? Will she swim?”

  “Aye,” Dagan replied. “She’ll have to, because I can’t.” This made the whole mess break out in laughter. Dagan could swim and Gabe knew it, but it was the kind of exchange that gave the crew heart.

  Well, everything had been done to make the ship secure, or had it? There was always doubt.

  PART III

  Oh Blow You Hurricane

  Rain…Rain…it’s a hurricane

  Got no Jonah, we can blame

  Will our timbers stand the strain?

  Oh blow…you hurricane.

  Different oceans call the doom

  A cyclone or a typhoon

  I just pray we got sea room

  Oh blow…you hurricane.

  See the waves how high they go

  Lost the topsails now its bare poles

  Will she poop nobody knows

  Oh blow…you hurricane.

  I feel the worst is yet to come

  Before this mighty wind is done

  Will I live to see the sun

  Oh blow…you hurricane.

  —Michael Aye

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  OCTOBER THE NINTH, FAITH looked at the calendar. It had been seven months since Gabe had sailed away to Antigua. He was only to be gone a few weeks. That was before the Spaniards, the Dons, as the navy called them, had joined the war.

  She had received letters from both Admiral Moffitt and Gabe. Admiral Moffitt had stated that he’d sent Gabe to warn Lord Anthony of Spain coming to the aid of the Americans. This was delivered personally by the dispatch vessel’s captain. He’d also hand delivered a short, quickly written note from Gabe. Damn this war, she thought, always taking her man, her child’s father. But for some reason, unlike in the past, she felt no anger toward Gabe. Could this be because she’d found herself supporting Ariel? She’d had no time with her new husband. Scarcely had the honeymoon sheets turned cold, when Lieutenant David Davy had had to sail away in his little sloop of war. Damn the Navy and damn the sea. They each, though entwined, seemed to have a greater pull on their men than she or Ariel did.

  One of the differences this time, compared to Gabe’s last departure, was she’d taken Lady Deborah…Deborah’s advice and found ways to keep her busy. Too busy to sit and brood over things she couldn’t change…the war and her husband’s call to the sea.

  Today they were going on a picnic; a grand picnic and adventure. Everyone was talking of the new cave that had been discovered, Harrison’s Cave. The islanders were all aghast at how big it was. Rumors had it the native islanders used to live in the cave. It was also said that runaway slaves hid there. Others told how it was a holding place for pirates’ treasures, their booty.

  Rupert Buck had dispelled those pirate rumors, saying it was too far inland to have been connected to pirates. He did not doubt the stories about the natives or slaves.

  “Is you ready, girl?” Nanny asked as she walked in the room carrying little James. He was a happy baby. Watching him grow up was a joy. A joy, she thought with a sigh, that his father had missed much of.

  “That rascal, Lum, has put our lunch basket in the wagon. It was all I could do to keep his hands out of the cookies I baked,” Nanny said.

  Faith couldn’t help but smile. The smell of cookies baking had enticed her as well. Sam had even lifted his nose, sniffing the air. Always at her side, she wondered what she would do without the big brute of a dog.

  Ariel bounced into the room. “Aren’t you excited?” she asked.

  She reminds me of me at that age, Faith thought. Not near as spoilt Nanny would say…and a cleaner mouth. How many times had Nanny fussed about her use of profanity?

  “It’s a good thang you married a sailor boy, don’t know nary another man who’d put up with yo’ nasty talk,” Nanny would say.

  “Humph,” Faith would grunt. She rarely said any bad words except for damn, hell, shat, and arse.

  It would cause Nanny to clap her hand over her mouth, roll her eyes, and rush from the room. Usually she would mutter something like, “I hope yo’ mama is busy up there in heben. She’d swoon hearing her girl talk such.” Sometimes Nanny would say, “I’m gonna get me a bar of soap foh yo’ mouth.”

  Sam’s ears rose up and he ran toward the door. A low growl came from him followed by his rear end wobbling and, as Lum called it, his grin…at times, a slobbering grin. Rupert Buck’s carriage had arrived. In addition to Buck and his soon–to-be-bride, Livi, he’d picked up Deborah and Macayla as well. Crowe, the admiral’s cox’n, was also along. Crowe and Jake Hex were childhood friends. Now they were both cox’ns. What had it been like being a smuggler, Faith wondered, knowing both had their sea roots in it.

  A two-seated wagon had been rented for the picnic. In addition to the two seats, wooden benches had been put in the back of the wagon and fresh hay was on the floor. As the group got into the wagon, Buck looked at the sky. His seaman’s instinct told him it would not be a good day to be at sea.

  Before pulling himself onto the wagon’s front seat with Crowe and Lum, he walked to the back of the wagon. “We have lanterns, oil, candles, water, and food. Lots of food,” he said again, smiling at Nanny.

  “Nuff to feed all yo’ sailors, Mr. Admiral,” Nanny replied. She followed with, “Yo’ arm ’pears to be doing better. But I put a bottle of brandy in with the goods, in case you need it…medicinal, ain’t that what they call it?”

  “You are a love, Nanny. You ever get tired of Faith, you come on to our house. We’ll give you a home,” Buck sai
d.

  “That’s nice to know, suh. But ain’t nobody else would put up wid that girl. I best stay, somebody has to take care of the girl and watch over that lazy Lum.”

  Buck couldn’t help but smile. Nanny might be spot on in regards to Faith, but nobody could call Lum lazy. Climbing onto the wagon, he said, “Let’s be off, you lazy bugger.”

  Lum had heard Nanny’s remarks. He grinned at Buck, “Yes suh,” as he clicked to the mules. “Gid up, you worthless nags.”

  ***

  A FEW PEOPLE WERE leaving as Lum pulled the wagon to a stop. He put grain bags on the two mules and tied the harness to a leaded weight and dropped it to the ground. Ariel, as agile as anyone, hopped over the wagon side and onto the ground. She then caught Macayla, who jumped into her arms. As the ladies were helped down by Crowe, Lum was helping the less agile Nanny down.

  As the group started up the rise, Nanny said, “We may have to eat in the cave. I believe it’s starting to rain.”

  Crowe had felt the drops as well. His days as a smuggler had taught him how to recognize a storm in the offing. He looked at Buck, who met his gaze, “I think we’ll get the rest of the things out of the wagon so that they don’t get wet.” Crowe nodded to Buck. Or get blown away, he thought.

  Lum and Buck lugged the picnic basket, water, and candles on up and into the mouth of the cave while Crowe dashed back to the wagon for the lanterns and can of oil. The rain was coming down hard by the time he’d rushed along the rocky path to the cave.

  “You are soaked!” Lady Deborah exclaimed as Crowe ducked into the cave.

  “There is a bit of dead wood along the path,” Crowe said. “It might be good to gather up a bit for a fire.” What he didn’t say was before this was over they might wish they had a fire.

  Lady Deborah had taken off her shawl and was handing it to Crowe. “Not now, my Lady. It would just get soaked.” He and Lum then went back out in the rain.