Leopard (Fighting Anthonys Book 7)

by Michael Aye

  “Hopefully, it will keep the looters out,” Buck said.

  “If they have to work at it, they’ll pass it by, I’m thinking,” Crowe replied.

  “At first anyway,” Ragland agreed.

  “We did come across some pistols, a couple of muskets with powder and shot,” Crowe continued.

  “I hope we don’t need it, but I wanted to be prepared,” Ragland said. “I remember how it was in London after a bad fire.”

  “Aye,” Buck said. “I recall it as well. It never hurts to be prepared. Tomorrow, we will go back.”

  “Might be I could rig up a cart for the mules to pull,” Lum said.

  “Good idea, Lum. Tomorrow we’ll all go.”

  “I stay. Me watchee the women,” Chin Lee volunteered.

  “Humph…heathen,” Crowe growled.

  “You think heathen, me go chop chop,” Chin Lee replied, emphasizing his remarks by making a chopping motion, one hand chopping the other.

  “Don’t make him mad,” Buck ordered. “Else we’ll have indigestion for a week.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

  LORD ANTHONY’S SQUADRON WAS sailing along under a fresh breeze. The sky was blue with puffy, white clouds overhead. Gabe’s and Kirk’s ships could just be seen on the horizon as they headed north-easterly toward Antigua. The rest of the squadron continued on a more southerly course to Barbados. Lord Anthony, like most every other man, was looking forward to getting home. They’d not thought much about the storm since dropping anchor at Grand Cayman.

  The storm had continued a northerly direction, hitting the southern tip of Puerto Rico and the eastern regions of Hispaniola. Reports had come in that the towns of Cabo Rojo and Lajas on Puerto Rico had been hit hard with extensive damage. There were also many reports of lost ships. Lord Anthony was sure by the time the toll was fully realized the numbers of lost ships and men would be staggering. He did not want to sound alarmed, but he was sure the island deaths would be just as severe on those islands the hurricane had passed over. Mr. Waters had been right in his recommendation to lay a westerly course. His kind usually were right. What was it his father had said when he was a young mid. “Mind the master, and you’ll live a long time.” He’d made sure when Gabe was a young lieutenant with his first ship, that he’d had a seasoned master. Gabe…

  Lord Anthony had been thinking of his brother. A good seaman, a good captain. Now he was about to give up his command, a temporary command it had been. But still a command. He had been tempted to put Frostbrier in the captured seventy-four, he still might. He hadn’t openly discussed it with Frostbrier. He’d not really had the chance to.

  It’s always hard for a captain to admit his ship is unfit for duty. But Frostbrier had done so. “Phoenix has been abused most severely,” Captain Frostbrier had said. “She’ll swim, but I don’t think she’ll stand another battle. We man the pumps one hour in three.” Therefore, he’d sent her to Jamaica, to the dockyard there to be over-hauled. For some reason, he’d not mentioned the seventy-four after that.

  “You couldn’t,” Bart said when the two were alone. “Wouldn’t be fair.”

  Maybe that was true. Lieutenant Bufford was talking to a man on the forecastle. That had been a strange event. Gabe had met with Captain Earl, and soon after Lieutenant Bufford was transferred to SeaHorse and a young lieutenant had been sent to Leopard. He’d not questioned it. Earl was the ship’s captain. If he and another ship’s captain made a switch, that was between the two of them. Not any of the admiral’s business. But Bart knew, he always seemed to know. Dagan had talked with Bart as Gabe knew he would, so it was not long before he had the true story. If Gabe felt the man might be worth salvaging, Earl would accommodate him. Another captain would likely have had the man shot or at the least, dismissed from the Navy. What would I have done, Anthony had asked himself.

  Likely Dagan’s influence, Bart had suggested in his own way, “Dagan’s ’fluence, more like,” Bart said.

  Well, in three days, if the weather held out, they would be home, with all this behind them. David Davy could enjoy his new bride; Bart could tantalize the tavern wenches and the card players. Gabe would soon be home to Faith and little James and he’d be back to Deborah and Macayla. If everything went according to plan. For some reason, he was worried. Foreboding, but why? Time would tell.

  ***

  “DECK THAR, TWO SHIPS off the starboard side.” The lookout paused and then added, “Not carrying any canvas aloft.”

  “Mr. Glenn,” Leopard’s new lieutenant, Lieutenant Holton, called to the mid. “Notify the captain we have two ships sighted and they appear to be hove to.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “What’s that, Mr. Holton?”

  “Morning, sir,” Holton said, speaking to the first lieutenant. Handing his glass to Vallin, he pointed out the direction. “You can just see them.”

  Vallin looked and then climbed up a few feet in the shrouds. He had just jumped to the deck when Gabe came on deck, followed by his cox’n and Dagan. “Two ships hove to, Captain. Neither are under canvas. The larger ship appears to be a seventy-four and she is dismasted it appears. The other one appears to be a large frigate. I can just make out her furled sails.”

  “Storm damage, do you think, Mr. Vallin?” Gabe asked.

  “Aye, sir.” Vallin’s further response was interrupted by the lookout.

  “The smaller ship is making sail, sir.” After a pause, the lookout shouted down again, excitement in his voice this time. “She be a Frenchie, a French frigate.”

  With everything that had happened since Gabe had sailed away from Barbados and Faith, the sighting of two French ships should not have been a surprise. Yet the frigate, big as she was, to act aggressive to a larger ship, with a second ship in company was puzzling.

  “She’ll get no help from the big lady,” Vallin stated. His comment was unnecessary, but true.

  It was very obvious that the French seventy-four had taken a beating from the hurricane. Lieutenant Laqua who had joined the group commented, “Bet she’s taken the crew off the big Frenchie.”

  “Aye, I think you are right, Lieutenant. Beat to quarters, if you will, Mr. Vallin. Grape on top of balls. If what Mr. Laqua thinks is true, she’ll try to close and board us,” Gabe said.

  Dagan, who had been watching the enemy ship through his glass, spoke as he tucked the glass under his arm. “She’s much heavier that the usual frigate. I’d not be surprised if she was not a razed sixty-four.”

  Hmm…Gabe thought. Stouter timbers, twenty-four pound balls would not be unreasonable. Leopard was a beehive of activity as men hurried to their battle stations. The thud of bare feet on wooden planks was echoed by the drummer as he sounded off.

  “Reduce to fighting sail?” Pittman, the master, inquired.

  “Not yet,” Gabe responded, “but be ready.” He wanted the enemy to see he was just as eager as they were to fight. “Signal Bulldog to fire at will.” That would allow Captain Kirk to take advantage of any opportunity that presented itself, yet not endanger Bulldog’s fragile timber.

  “Three minutes, sir.” Gabe looked at his first lieutenant. Vallin was holding his watch in his hand.

  “That will get the crew an extra tot, Mr. Vallin.” An extra tot and prize money.

  “What say you men?” Vallin asked.

  “Huzzah, huzzah.”

  Dagan touched his nephew’s shoulder. “That was well said, ‘Captain’.”

  Smiling, Gabe looked at his uncle. Seeing no look of concern in his eyes made Gabe fill better. “Hex.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “Be ready to call my boat crew together after we take the Frenchie.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  “Hear that?” One of the helmsmen said to the other man on the wheel. “We got nothing to worry about. Captain’s already decided we’ll take the Frenchie.”

  “Hmm,” the other man said. “Wonder if they know that yet?”

  “You’d spoil anything, ma
te. You ain’t no Jonah, are ye?”

  Before the man could reply, the French frigate fired. A wo wo wo sound was heard overhead and holes appeared in the sails.

  “Firing to disable us,” Vallin said.

  “Aye,” the master answered.

  “Did you note,” Gabe questioned his group, “the two forward and aft gun ports did not open? I don’t think that she has a full broadside.” The ships were now less than a mile apart. “Reduce to fighting sail, Mr. Pittman.”

  “Aye sir.”

  The bosun’s pipes shrilled and the sail handlers rushed to do their duty. Hex, who had disappeared for a few minutes now returned. He had Gabe’s coat with the gilted buttons, lace, and gold swab. Dagan helped Gabe into his dress coat and then put on his sword belt. Hex handed Gabe a brace of pistols.

  As Gabe tucked his weapons in his sash, Hex whispered, “I caution you, sir. Your pistols are primed and ready. I’d be careful to make sure they were clear of your sash before firing.”

  “You dog,” Gabe threw back with a smile. He had heard where a captain pulled his pistol out but pulled the trigger before the weapon cleared the sash. Suddenly the captain had gone from a rooster to a hen. A little rhyme had been made up for the unlucky captain. ‘Not like ’is dad, more like ’is sis, ’e ’as to sit to take a piss.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

  THE FRENCH HAD CONTINUED to fire their forward guns, doing little damage.

  “Mr. Abraham, I think it’s time to put our forward guns into action. Show yonder ship, we don’t waste our powder and shot.” The distance between the ships had closed to less than a quarter of a mile.

  “Look at Bulldog,” Vallin called. With the enemy seemingly focused on Leopard, Kirk had clamped on sail and drew away from Leopard.

  “Look at her go!” Midshipman Glenn exclaimed. He was watching the sloop turn away, copper flashing in the sunlight, sails full and drawing.

  “No doubt thinking of the day that he’ll command a ship, like that un, Pittman,” Vallin said.

  Thinking back on his first ship, HMS SeaWolf, Gabe smiled. “Let the boy dream.”

  As the forward guns spoke, a shudder was felt in the planks. Alternating larboard and starboard bow guns, Abraham had set up a constant barrage. The larboard guns scored a hit and a cheer went up only to be silenced by a hit from the French frigate. Screams and cries of pain took the place of cheers. The gun seemed to have jumped backwards, crushing three crewmen. One man’s hand flopped up and down as if hurrying help along, and then the hand dropped lifelessly as the man died.

  The afternoon sun blazed down on Leopard’s deck making hot work even hotter. Gabe shielded his eyes from the sun.

  “Mr. Pittman.”

  “Aye Captain.”

  “Starboard a point if you please.”

  “Aye sir.”

  “This damn sun,” Vallin cursed. “I can’t see what’s happening.”

  Gabe smiled. A week ago Vallin was cursing the storm. They were close now, almost broadside of one another. Shouts could be heard from the French frigate. Someone had worked the crew into a screaming frenzy. Nearer and nearer they came. The gunners squatted by their guns, all waiting for the word to fire.

  “Now,” Gabe shouted. “Fire, fire as you bear.” He pounded the rail as he shouted, oblivious to musket balls that peppered the deck all around the well.

  “Best move about, Captain,” Hex said.

  Lieutenant Tolbert, who was now the second lieutenant, having taken Bufford’s place, ran from gun to gun making sure each shot went home. The French guns were not a beat behind Leopard’s, as they crashed, slamming into Leopard’s stout timbers. Gabe couldn’t help but wince as a ball passed close to him.

  “At ’em, lads,” a gun captain shouted as the quarterdeck guns roared, joining the melee.

  Gabe shouted to Vallin, “Canister, use canister in the swivels.”

  “Look at Bulldog,” someone shouted.

  Unnoticed by the French, Kirk had brought his ship close to the French stern and fired at the rudder. The frigate slewed to larboard as the rudder was blasted away. The bow ground against Leopard amidships. A grapnel flew out as Leopard pushed the French bow. More and more grapnels flew through the air.

  “Prepare for boarders,” Vallin shouted. “Prepare for boarders.”

  Using the speaking trumpet, Gabe shouted at the men in the tops, “Cut them down. Cut them down.”

  Vallin was suddenly alongside Gabe. “Didn’t figure on this shat, Captain.”

  The drag was slowing the ship considerably as French sailors climbed up on the bulwark to board Leopard. The men in Leopard’s tops fired down on them with muskets and swivel guns. The French sailors caught in the hail of ball and canister fell back on to those behind them. Shouts and screams could be heard. Men started to back away but were pushed forward again by officers. The savage fire pushed most of the second group back but not all of them. A French officer, his sword in the air, was waving frantically, calling to his men.

  The men followed their officer. Now the revived boarders swept over the bulwark. Into the deadly blaze of gunfire they came. Wild crazed faces, like demons, they poured onto Leopard’s deck. The French officer, now hatless and blood oozing from a scalp wound was now on Gabe. His blade, red to the hilt and dripping with blood, lunged. Gabe parried it and saw the look of excitement upon the Frenchman’s face as he now lunged with a small sword carried in his other hand. Trying to step back, Gabe’s foot slipped in blood and he fell. The fall saved his life. The man’s small sword would have impaled him, were it not for the fall.

  The Frenchman was now off balance and Gabe thrust up. The man fell and but for the lanyard would have jerked Gabe’s blade away from his grasp. A hand lifted Gabe as more Frenchmen pressed forward.

  Vallin was in a struggle with two enemy sailors. Gabe pulled one of his pistols and, jamming it into the side of one of the men, pulled the trigger. The sound was muffled but blood spurted from the wound as the man went down.

  Glancing about, Gabe could see Dagan cut down a man and Hex was just to his side. Still the Frenchmen continued to push. Were the men in the tops still firing, Gabe couldn’t recall hearing one? The crack of muskets continued, and each ball was bringing a man down. Two men were fighting desperately to Gabe’s left; one was Laqua. Taking his remaining pistol Gabe shot the large French sailor who was overpowering Laqua.

  The melee was now so closely bunched together; it was hard to use one’s sword. Feeling himself shoved to the side, a marine shot one attacker at point blank range. The ball taking not only the man the marine was shooting at, but also the man behind him as well. The marine then skewered another foe with his bayonet. More marines came forward, firing into the enemy and then lunging forward with their bayonets.

  Above the din of battle, Gabe heard the marine sergeant yell, “Down in front.” The marines went down as another group fired. This stopped the French advance.

  Off to Gabe’s right, one of the enemy officers shot an advancing marine. Falling, the marine fired, killing the officer and then he threw his weapon, the bayonet impaling another man in the face. Screaming, the French sailor fell forward, the tip of the bayonet protruding from the back of his skull.

  Why aren’t the swivels firing, Gabe wondered again. The thought was cut short when a British voice could be heard shouting, “Surrender! Strike, strike or die,” it was Captain Kirk. At first, the calls were unheard.

  Vallin was facing a French officer, who was trying to club him with a spent pistol. “It’s over,” Vallin shouted but the man was mad. The battle lust was upon him. Vallin backed away and shouted again for him to drop his weapon, but the man was beyond control.

  Dagan, who was standing close by, hit the officer with the flat side of his blade. This knocked the wounded and enraged man to the deck. Before he could rise, the pistol was kicked away from his hands.

  “Hold your fire,” Gabe yelled.

  A pistol went off and a man grunted and fell…an en
emy sailor. “Cease fire,” Gabe bellowed. This time all was still. “Throw down your weapons,” he ordered. The French just stood and looked about. “Tell them to throw down their weapons,” Gabe said to Laqua.

  The lieutenant repeated his captain’s command in French. Still the enemy stood. Laqua repeated the order but added, “Or die.” First a solitary sword clanged as it hit the deck. After a pause, the French dropped their weapons in mass.

  Sighing, Gabe looked about and saw Captain Kirk, “You saved us, Gregory.”

  “Aye, it was the least I could do after causing the Frenchie to ram you. I should have thought she’d slew when we blasted the rudder.”

  “How could you have known?” Gabe replied.

  “Captain, it’s the French captain. Dagan says that he’s about gone.”

  Gabe, followed by Kirk, made his way over to the French captain. “Would you please write a letter, M’sieur? The whole fleet, the storm took the entire fleet. It’s gone. We alone survived. We tried to run.”

  “Run from where?” Gabe asked.

  “Martinique, magnifique. All gone, four thousand soldiers drowned,” the French captain said.

  “Who was your commander?” Gabe asked. “Who was your commander?”

  “It’s no use, Captain, he’s gone.”

  “Why did he fight if the entire fleet is gone?” The question came from Jackson, one of Leopard’s midshipmen.

  “For honor,” Gabe answered. “For the honor of the fleet.” Gabe stood from where he had knelt. “We shall bury this brave man wrapped in his country’s flag, as soon as we put things to right.”

  “Congratulations on your victory, Captain,” Kirk said. “You’ve another prize and maybe two,” indicating the French seventy-four.

  “We’ll see, Captain Kirk, we’ll see.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  GABE ROSE AND, FOLLOWED by Hex, stepped over the bodies torn by grape shot. Next to where a cannon was overturned, he saw the charred stumps and blackened bones. Once on board Leopard, he saw bodies of dead and wounded men. Men wounded and killed by sharp-edged weapons. The sight of it all sickened him. Sickened him until all he wanted to do was bury his head in disgust. Why, why, he kept saying to himself.