HMS Seawolf tfa-2

by Michael Aye

  Gabe looked at Dagan. He knew, Gabe thought, recalling Dagan's words, "she's poorly handled." Gabe didn't feel as joyous as he had a moment earlier.

  "Do we send the boat over sir, or do we close and grapple?" Hazard was asking.

  "I'll take a boat with the surgeon I think, Mr. Hazard, and have Mr. Davy along with the bosun and a few marines come as well".

  "Aye, cap'n."

  "Dagan, let's go see to our prize."

  ***

  SeaWolf’s broadside had caused much damage aboard the Colonial schooner, Linda Lee. Spars

  were down, cordage and riggings were severed and strewn. Several cannons were upturned. Bodies lay about. However to seasoned veterans like Mr. Davy and Graf, the bosun, the casualties seemed remarkably few upon first glance. Gabe, along with Dagan, boarded the beaten ship. A youth met them. He still held the gaff with its improvised flag of truce.

  "Where are your officers, sir?" Gabe asked.

  "Dead. They were trying to help man the larboard guns when you fired your salvo."

  Looking about the deck Gabe could see ten or twelve bodies. Another dozen or so of the crew were miling about.

  "Where's the rest of your crew?"

  "Cap'n Crawford put most of them on prizes and they sailed on to Cuba."

  "Where?" Gabe asked.

  Realizing he may have given something away the youth became defiant. "None of your business you British bastard."

  Davy took a sudden step forward. "Watch your tongue with my cap'n or you'll answer to me."

  "That's enough," Gabe spoke to his loyal midshipman. "I'm sure the young gentleman meant no harm."

  At that the youth spat on the deck. Mr. Davy lunged for the boy only to be stopped by Dagan, who looked dead in the privateering youth's eyes.

  "There will be no more. Do we understand one another?"

  The youth looked at the cold black eyes that seemed to penetrate into his soul. He could feel the hand of the man who had spoken on his shoulder and suddenly he knew not to push his luck.

  "How old are you, boy?" Gabe was speaking again.

  "Fifteen sir. Well almost fifteen."

  "What's your name, son?"

  "Andrew."

  "Caleb, will you take Andrew back with you when you're finished here?"

  "It will be my pleasure, Gabe. I'm sure he'd like to meet Mr. Jewell s."

  Mr. Jewell s was Caleb's ape. Only a few knew his name was a reflection on part of his anatomy and not his disposition.

  "Dagan, let's have a look at the captain's cabin.

  Mr. Graf, send a party through the ship checking for damage and anything which may be of interest. Lt. Baugen, put a sentry on the rum stores. I'm sure there's some about, then have the prisoners searched for weapons, then get them in the hole."

  "Aye, cap'n, we'll take care of it," Baugen replied.

  Then turning to his men, "Marines, do your duty as the cap'n has ordered."

  "Mr. Davy?"

  "Yes sir, cap'n."

  "Signal for Mr. Hazard to join me on the prize."

  "Aye, aye sir."

  ***

  "Sail ho! Fine on the larboard bow," the lookout cal ed down his sighting.

  Lavery approached the master and Dagan.

  "Two in one day?" The master raised his thick bushy eyebrows, ’If the Lord giveth, who are we to question his bounty?"

  "Deck there, she's the Badger, sir. I've seen her in Barbados afore."

  "Frances Fewghay of His Majesty's armed brig, Badger, the captain introduced himself to Gabe as he came aboard SeaWolf. "I'm part of Vice Admiral Gayton's squadron.

  I'm on the way to Barbados by way of Port Royal, Jamaica.

  As Dawkins served the of icers a glass of wine, Fewghay asked, "Have you heard Admiral Lord Howe is now in command of the North American Naval Forces. Admiral Shuldham has returned to England."

  "What about Admiral Graves?" Gabe asked.

  "He's going back as well, but word is he'll return after refit and overhaul."

  Touching Gabe's arm Fewghay almost whispered,

  "Rumor is Admiral Gayton is not well and will likely by returning to England soon also." Gabe wondered if Gayton was il or just didn't look forward to the trying times ahead.

  ***

  "Land ho," the lookout cal ed halfway through the ’forenoon' watch.

  "Where away," Hazard cal ed, his impatience at not already having been told not lost on the lookout.

  "Two points of the starboard bow," came the answer.

  Hazard went aloft with his telescope to identify the land. The eastern point of the island was visible. Quickly sliding down the stays Hazard quipped, "A perfect landfal."

  "What else should we expect from our master?" Gabe joined in.

  "We'll be entering Carlisle Bay soon," the master advised, feeling somewhat smug and strutting like a peacock.

  "Let's make the ship ready to enter port," Gabe instructed his first lieutenant. He'd not have the admiral mentioning any defects if he could help it.

  "Aye, sir, she's looking smart now but we'll "smarten' her up another notch."

  Gabe then motioned to Dagan to follow as he went below to put together SeaWolf’s papers for the admiral along with usual dispatches and his reports on the capture of the prize. SeaWolf and her prize sailed to Barbados in company with Badger.

  They rounded Needham Point and then tacked into Carlisle Bay. The master checked the bay depth for the anchor, and the gunner was making ready for the salute.

  No sooner had the salute been given when the flagship signaled "Captain repair on board." Dagan had the gig ready and as they rowed over to the flagship, Gabe marveled at the light green color of the water inside the bay. It was here he had met Caleb. Would he remember that night? With the antics of Caleb's ape, he thought how could he forget.

  "Flagship, sir."

  Damn, Gabe thought, I've been daydreaming.

  Admiral Gayton handed the dispatches to his flag lieutenant to sort while a servant fetched Gabe a glass of refreshing limejuice. The heat in the admiral's cabin reminded Gabe of just how cold it had been when he'd left New York. You couldn't find a warm spot. After reading Gabe's report on capturing the Linda Lee the admiral spoke.

  "Not much fight in the Jonathans would you say, sir?" A little surprised at the admiral's tone, Gabe swallowed his limejuice before answering, "There wasn't that many on board to put up much of a fight, sir. Her captain had dangerously under-manned her, providing prize crews for the ships he'd taken."

  Gabe was again surprised when the admiral's tone changed, "It does you credit sir to be so honest. I know those who would have doubled the number of enemy dead to make them look better."

  Gabe breathed a little easier. He'd passed the admiral's little test.

  "Did the boy say where they were home ported?"

  "Not to me, sir," Gabe answered the admiral, "But when talking to my midshipman he stated that Port Royal, South Carolina was home. That's just down the coast from Charlestown."

  "Hmmm," was the admiral's only reply as he scanned the pages Gabe had obtained from the captain's cabin of the prize. "That damnable fellow Crawford knew his business," the admiral continued. "He's captured a transport from Antigua laden with gunpowder on her way to Halifax. No wonder he's undermanned the schooner.

  The transport was worth her weight in gold. He's also taken a merchantman loaded with winter uniforms, rifles for sharpshooters and ammunition. He's also captured three col iers loaded with coal but he doesn't say where. A busy man is he not?"

  "Aye," Gabe replied.

  Dropping the inventory sheets to his desk the admiral rubbed his brow and his face seemed to sag. The news of the captures by the privateer Crawford seemed to burden the admiral.

  "You know," the admiral said addressing Gabe once again, "We just lost a brig loaded with three-hundred and

  eighty-six barrels of gunpowder as she was headed to Philadelphia. Do you know what that does to our abilities to fight and sustain an en
gagement sir?" The admiral continued on without giving Gabe the opportunity to reply. " America does not have the ability to produce large quantities of gunpowder. In England, gunpowder is distributed to the ordnance yards at Chatham, Portsmouth, and Plymouth. It is from there it's then transported to Gibraltar, Jamaica, Antigua and then on to Halifax, Nova Scotia. From there it's distributed to where it's needed. At this point in the war, British forces are hamstrung by shortages of gunpowder." Standing and walking to the stern gal ery Gayton said,

  "I'm sending you to Antigua. A convoy is soon to leave there for Halifax. Can you guess what the cargo is? Yes, I'm sure you can."

  Again, the admiral didn't allow Gabe to respond. "I know you would rather do something more exciting than escort a bunch of slow merchantmen but that gunpowder has to reach Halifax. Do I make myself clear?"

  "Yes, sir," Gabe answered.

  As if on cue there was a knock on the door. The flag lieutenant entered. "I have everything ready, sir." Gabe knew the interview was over. As he made ready to depart the admiral addressed him once more.

  "I'll buy the schooner into the service. Do you have anyone senior enough to command her?"

  Taken aback and overwhelmed by the admiral's offer Gabe could only mutter, "Not here sir," but his thoughts were on Frances Markham. He'd love her.

  As Gabe made his way out the admiral cal ed, "Give my regards to your brother and congratulate him on his flag."

  "Aye, sir, I will."

  "Gabe?"

  "Sir," Gabe was surprised at being addressed so.

  "My condolences in regards to the loss of your father.

  He was a fine of icer and would be proud of you. If ever I can be of any service you have but to contact me." Finally, leaving the admiral's stateroom, Gabe could only shake his head. Damned if he ain't human!

  Chapter Four

  Entering English harbour brought back bittersweet memories for Gabe. He thought of the lavish parties he'd attended when Drakkar had used the island as her base for operations against the pirates. He also recall ed his bout with near death after one encounter with the rogues.

  However, his youth didn't let his mind dwell on the dreary.

  The island women! That's where his thoughts traveled and lingered. The island women ranged from tavern doxies ready to pleasure the jack tars, to well -kept mulattos who could turn a man's head in a second. Many a duel had been fought over these half-white, half-black women.

  There were also the rich, ripe young planter's daughters.

  They were usual y looking not only for a husband but a way of the island. And then there were the island widows.

  Some of them so rich a Spanish gal eon couldn't carry their gold. They used men as playthings, to satisfy their needs but rarely anything else.

  Gabe recall ed Lieutenant, now Captain Buck, having an on and of af air with such a lady. It's lasted because we're at sea so much, he had volunteered one night on watch. "I'm gone before she gets bored, but I'll not complain. Nay, no complaints on my part."

  ***

  Dagan and Dawkins had come ashore with Gabe while the purser and a working party had been sent to find

  fresh fruit and vegetables for the crew. A lesson passed down from Vice Admiral Anthony to his sons. Keeps the scurry at bay. Both sons had listened well and insisted every ef ort be made to keep them on board regardless of the purser's protest and complaints about expense. It was a short walk to the government house at the top of the coast road. One Gabe had made many times.

  However, this time would be different. Commodore Gardner wouldn't be there to greet him like a friend.

  Today he'd be just one more junior officer reporting as required. Damned if it ain't a scorcher today, Gabe thought.

  There was the hint of a breeze that made his shirt stick to his body. In the old days he'd have come ashore without his coat but not today. The tease of a breeze was gone.

  The flag hung limply against the flagstaff. Unlike on previous visits there were only a few workers in the yard surrounding government house. Entering the building brought an immediate relief from the sun's heat. The marine sentry snapped to attention and directed Gabe to his sar'nt who directed him to a clerk. The clerk, acting like he was at Whitehal, had him sit in an office til the Commodore could be with him. It was a familiar of ice, Gardner 's old of ice.

  Gabe rose and walked to the window. Below at the anchorage Gabe could make out a variety of ships. A sixty-four gun two-decker was probably the commodore's flagship. He could also see island schooners, small fast ships plying their trade through the Leeward Islands. There was also a group of merchant and supply vessels. Undoubtedly, some of these would be with the convoy he had to herd to Halifax.

  Hearing the door open and close, Gabe turned and spoke, "Lieutenant Anthony, sir, in command of SeaWolf." Taking the offered dispatches, the new commodore sat in his chair behind the great desk.

  "I ask for convoy protection and what do I get, a wormy brig, a privateer's ship with a junior officer and a schooner that's not got enough firepower to scare a gnat.

  Frigates, that's what I need."

  Unsure of what to say, Gabe said nothing. "When were you commissioned?" the commodore asked.

  "January '76," Gabe replied but then added, "from this office."

  "What was your last ship?"

  "HMS Drakkar 44, Commodore Anthony."

  "Any kin?"

  "My brother."

  "Huh! Your father was?"

  "Vice Admiral James Anthony."

  "I knew him," the commodore replied. "I also know Gardner and he has spoken highly of you, so we'll see if you rate his praise. I've cal ed a meeting of the captains of the ships you are to escort. It will be here in this building at four o'clock. By then your documents will be ready. You are the senior by one month so you will be in command.

  Lieutenant Bruce commands the brig Lancaster. Why I don't know. He wouldn't know what to do with her if someone stuck her up his arse and fired a broadside."

  "I'll do my duty, sir."

  "No doubt," the commodore replied. The interview was over.

  Still feeling the commodore's heat, Gabe felt that the Caribbean sun felt hotter than when he entered the building if that was possible. Dagan was leaning against one of the piles smoking his pipe when Gabe made it to the ship's boat.

  "Al ready?" Gabe asked.

  Taking his pipe from his mouth and exhaling a puff of smoke, Dagan commented, "That bad was it?"

  "It was."

  "Know who the commodore is?"

  "Merriam, Commodore Webster Merriam."

  "He's Witzenfeld's uncle on Witz's mother's side."

  "How do you know?"

  "I went to get a wet and the tavern keeper told me." No wonder he acted so Gabe thought.

  ***

  Returning to the landing, Gabe and Dagan were surprised to find one of their boats still there. On the chance of seeing Commodore Gardner, they had gone up to Lady Deborah's main house. The commodore and his wife were living there since he'd retired.

  "There's no sense in the main house sitting empty," Lady Deborah had said when the commodore retired.

  The merchant owner had found he needed the property

  the Gardners had been living in. It probably had more to do with the loss of Navy contracts Gardner had been funneling to him than any need of property.

  However, with Lady Deborah in England and Lord Anthony at sea, she had both the main house and the cottage vacant. The cottage would be kept vacant should it be needed by the family if the opportunity to spend time on the island arose. Unfortunately, Gabe and Dagan arrived at the main house only to find the Commodore and Greta had gone to St. Johns. The trip had taken over an hour and Gabe had expected to hire a boat or catch a ride back to SeaWolf.

  "Mr. Davy, why ain't you back at the ship?"

  "We've been waiting on the purser, sir. Him and the surgeon."

  "The surgeon."

  "Aye," Davy replied. "He said he wanted to repleni
sh some of his medicines he was low on, sir, but I didn't believe him."

  "You didn't, and why pray tell is that, Mr. Davy?"

  "Cause sir, he took that damn ape along and he don't usual y do that if its business."

  This response brought guffaws from the crew. Caleb's ape, Mr. Jewell s, had become something of a celebrity throughout Lord Anthony's command but without his Lordship's endorsement.

  Gabe and Dagan looked at each other. Mr. Davy was very astute and had a keen sense of observation but neither spoke about it.

  "Excuse me, sir," one of the boatmen said. "Me thinks dats the "purse-or" huffing and puffing his way down ’de jetty now."

  Al turned to see the purser hurrying his way along.

  His cheeks were red and puffing, his breathing labored and his clothes drenched in sweat. Taking off his hat and wiping his face with a rag he tried to catch his breath so he could talk, then rubbed the same rag through his sparse hair, plastering the few sprigs to his head.

  "Damme, Mr. Petrie, why such an al fire hurry?

  You'll likely fry your brain rushing about in this heat with such a burden."

  "Sir," Petrie was gasping his breath as he tried to address Gabe. His pot bel y and chest were heaving.

  "It's…the…surgeon…sir. I thought I ought to hurry…he's about to fight a duel…"

  "A duel," Gabe exclaimed.

  "Aye, sir," Petrie's breathing was coming a bit easier now. "I thought you outta know quick like."

  "Where?" Gabe asked.

  "The Sugarcane, sir."

  Gabe knew it well. Not a tavern for the common sailor; but neither was it an elite establishment. An out-of-the-way place where deals were made, both financial and sexual.

  "Dagan, you come with me. Mr. Davy, let Lieutenant Hazard know where we are."

  Gabe knew Davy knew the location of the place from experience. His first experience in becoming a man.

  "Should we send for Lieutenant Baugean or maybe his sergeant," Petrie asked.

  "No," Gabe replied. "Dagan and I will handle this," already headed for the tavern.