HMS Seawolf

by Michael Aye

  “Aye, sir. I’ll be ready with SeaWolf regardless which plans unfolds.”

  Then Gabe was quite serious. “There’s a letter in my desk drawer for my brother and my mother should I fail to return. Give them both to my brother.”

  “Aye, sir, but I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

  Pausing before he climbed down to his gig, Gabe looked over SeaWolf. He could never ask for a better ship. She was more than he ever dreamed, a dream that came true in part due to his brother. Yes, his brother, not his half-brother, just his brother. Then as he turned, he felt dizziness overtake him and he had to grasp the bulwark to steady himself. Dagan reached out and touched him.

  “Let’s just stand off and blast the bugger, Gabe. You’re in no shape for what we’re about.”

  Looking at the man who’d been his constant companion for as long as he could remember, Gabe felt a lump in his throat. “I have to Dagan. It’s what’s expected…it’s my duty. Besides I have you with me.”

  Then as Gabe made his way down the ladder to his gig, Dagan muttered, “Duty be damned, it’s you I care about.”

  Just being in the open water seemed to clear Gabe’s dizziness. The air had a slight chill and that seemed to help as well. Tiny little wavelets lapped at the sides of the boat as the men put their backs to the oars. It was a hard enough pull just from the distance but with the ebb tide the pull was even harder.

  After thirty minutes of rowing Gabe called a halt and let the men rest. “Everything well, Mr. Davy, Lieutenant Lavery.”

  “Aye,” they both responded from their respective boats.

  “We’ll let the men rest for five minutes, and then we’ll start again.”

  “Aye sir.”

  The rowing had resumed and after ten minutes a seaman made his way back to where Gabe was sitting next to Dagan at the tiller. Men groaned and cursed as a few toes was bruised at the man’s awkward movements.

  “Sorry sir but I didn’t want to speak too loud but they’s a light just off the starboard bow, looks like someone’s got ‘holt ‘o a lanthorn and walking down the side of a ship.”

  Dagan put the tiller over and the light was visible and appeared to be moving along the deck of a ship. Davy and Lavery’s boats had eased up along side of Gabe’s.

  “Unless I’m mistaken gentlemen, yonder lays our missing ‘cow’.”

  This brought a smile from Lavery.

  “Let’s muffle our oars, then Dagan and I will come up on her starboard quarter astern. Mr. Davy, put your boat under her stern but where you’ll see my signal. Mr. Lavery, I want you to swing wide and if there’s no guard boat or sentry come up along her bow. Make sure nobody has a loaded musket or pistol. Remember this ship is loaded to the gills with powder and munitions. Any questions? Now let’s take our stations and pay attention to my signals.”

  As the crews put their backs into it, the distant ship became more visible. It was undoubtedly the Turtle, her sails were furled and a glow seemed to move about on the weather deck, the lookout with the lanthorn. The larboard side was not visible from this position but Gabe could make out a list to the larboard.

  “She’s aground…stuck in the bloody mud by damn,” he whispered to Dagan.

  “Aye, probably beached her on the low tide to unload her,” Dagan answered. “I’ll bet they got boats in the water working back and forth from the shore now.”

  “I agree,” Gabe turned to the boat crew, “Let’s be about it men.”

  The boats eased their way up to the unsuspecting ship. Voices could be heard on deck. Once, one of the men on board the Turtle spit over the side just missing the gig. Gabe was now able to pick out individual faces in the lanthorn light. The same light that helped the men see on the deck also took away their night vision and made it easier for the men in the boats to go unseen. A seaman reached up and grasped hold to Turtle.

  “Boats as secure as I can make it sir without tying off to ‘sumthin.”

  The hull was moist and smelled of salt and tar mixed with the distinct odor of mud. As Gabe climbed silently up the side of the ship more men were in evidence on Turtle’s deck. Barrels of gunpowder filled the deck where they’d been brought up from the hole.

  A voice with a distinct Irish brogue said, “Keep that lanthorn away from the barrels you fool. That’s gunpowder.”

  Patrick, the bastard, is on board Gabe thought, recognizing the voice.

  “When’s the boats coming back?” one of the men asked.

  “We’re never gonna get this stuff unloaded by daybreak.”

  Dagan was standing in the boat as Gabe eased his way back down into the gig.

  “Patrick is there and his bosun is by the larboard rail. Two other men are on deck sitting by several barrels of gunpowder, and from the sounds one or two more men are down in the hold.”

  “Mr. Lavery is latched onto the anchor cable sir, and Davy’s waiting on your signal.” Dagan informed Gabe.

  “Very well, let’s be about it.”

  As Gabe climbed back up Turtle’s hull he was suddenly met face to face with the man who’d spit over the side just minutes before. Then everything happened at once. Seeing a British officer rise up startled the man as he spat. He instinctively grabbed Gabe and bellowed, “What the hell?”

  Gabe was bodily swung over the bulwark and thrown across the deck landing with a thud, almost at Patrick’s feet. Quick to recover himself, Gabe rose up and grabbed Patrick with one hand as he tried to get the handle of his sword in his other hand. It was dangling from his wrist by its lanyard. Hearing the shout and commotion on deck behind him, the man who was holding the lanthorn and peering down to where the boats were being loaded was startled. As he swung around he banged the lanthorn on a stanchion, shattering it and sending the flaming candle across the deck and into the barrels of gunpowder. The clumsy sailor was wild-eyed with fright. In moving the barrels of gunpowder in such haste a stave had separated and grains of powder had leaked out of a barrel and lay upon the deck.

  The rolling candle sparked a few grains which then caused a larger flash.

  Seeing this, the doomed man said, “Oh hell!” They were the last words he uttered.

  Captain Patrick’s back was to the flash, but he saw the reflection in Gabe’s eyes. “My God!” he screamed. The explosion was tremendous. The ship, the inlet and the sky all seemed to burst apart and a great flame shot up in the air twenty feet or more lighting up the night sky. Then everything came raining down; bodies, water and fiery debris.

  Men were dead and floating in the water. Others were temporarily blinded and deaf from the explosion, blood draining from their ears and nose. Some suffered burns while others were thankful they were unharmed.

  Surprisingly, SeaWolf’s boats would all float even though they’d overturned with the explosion. The boats were righted, water was bailed out and sailors helped their wounded mates into the boats. Those who could swam the short distance to the muddy shore. Lieutenant Lavery and Mr. Davy were each in a boat.

  “Where’s the cap’n?” Lavery asked.

  “He was on deck,” Davy replied.

  “Then he’s gone,” Lavery responded.

  “No…he’s alive,” Dagan almost shouted. “Let’s search for him.”

  “He’s gone Dagan,” Lavery said putting his hand on Dagan’s shoulder.

  “He’s alive.”

  “No one could live through that, Dagan.”

  “He’s alive.”

  Lavery looked to Davy for support but got none.

  “Maybe he is alive,” Davy said, remembering events involving Lieutenant Witzenfield and the pirate captain when they’d been on Drakkar. “Dagan’s usually right,” he added, “And it can’t hurt to look.”

  “All right,” Lavery knew it was futile to argue and truthfully he didn’t want to argue with Dagan. The piercing look he’d gotten from Dagan when he said the captain was gone sent a shiver clean through his body. His eyes seemed to penetrate clear to his soul and made him feel weak. No, it
wouldn’t hurt to look but he’d send up a flare for SeaWolf, not that one was needed. If they didn’t see the explosion there wasn’t much need sending up a flare.

  “Mr. Lavery,” one of the bosun’s mates was calling. “We got visitors from both directions.”

  SeaWolf was just off shore and a group of Colonials were on the beach.

  “Put a white flag on an oar and let’s see if they know anything about the captain,” Lavery told the bosun mate.

  With a piece of torn white shirt tied to an oar, Lavery was rowed over to the beach where a crowd of Colonials and slaves were gathered. As the boat ground into the mud one of the slaves pulled it further up onto the beach. Lavery and Dagan got out of the boat. Some of the Colonials looked ready to fight.

  “Why’d you blow up the ship?” one of the better dressed men asked.

  Before Lavery could speak, Dagan replied, “We didn’t. It happened just as we arrived.” This caused a few hushed whispers.

  “What are you looking for?” Again this from the better dressed man. As he spoke, he tapped sand from his boot with a walking stick.

  “Our captain,” Lavery said not wanting it to appear that Dagan was in charge. “He’d just gone on board the ship when it exploded.”

  “Then he’s dead!” one of the men said toward the back of the crowd.

  “We’ve found no body,” Lavery said.

  “Ain’t likely to either,” again the man in back spoke.

  However, Dagan was paying no attention to the man. He was looking at one of the slaves. He looked familiar, he knew him, but from where? The man had looked him in the eye but only for a moment. Dagan couldn’t make eye contact with him again. To do so deliberately in front of the Colonials would probably cost the slave his life.

  As more of SeaWolf’s boats approached, the Colonials turned to walk away. The neatly dressed man paused. “I’m sorry for your captain. I hope you find him.” Then like the others he walked over the dune into the brush and out of sight.

  Back on board SeaWolf, Dagan, Dawkins, and Caleb sat with Lieutenant Hazard in Gabe’s cabin. “The captain left instructions and letters before he left for the cutting out. I’m sure you know about them Dagan. Anyway, I’m to pick up the convoy in Charlestown then go on to New York and Philadelphia. Then find Lord Anthony’s squadron. That’s what I intend to do unless otherwise instructed.”

  “You won’t be,” Dagan responded then added, “I’ll give Lord Anthony the letters. He has to know Gabe’s alive.”

  Hazard wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Maybe it was better to let Dagan go on hoping. Maybe that was his way to deal with his loss.

  “I have to go on deck. You gentlemen finish your wine.”

  No mention had been made of changing his things into the captain’s cabin. It wasn’t the right time. It would only be temporary Hazard knew. His Lordship certainly had someone more qualified than him for SeaWolf, but he’d enjoy the chance to command while it lasted. On his way on deck Hazard thought of his last meeting with Gabe. He called me Everette, he thought. Not Lieutenant Hazard but Everette.

  PART TWO

  Sailor’s Farewell

  The day is dark and dreary

  I can smell the rain

  I’m sailing with the tide

  Will I stand the pain

  Teary-eyed she waves goodbye

  Watching as I go

  It’s a conflict of emotion

  Waging war in my soul

  …Michael Aye

  Chapter One

  “It’s a fine Navy day is it not, Mr. Oxford?” Lord Anthony greeted Warrior’s master.

  “Aye, my lord, it promises to be just that, long as we keep our distance from yonder island.”

  The winds had been perverse and after two days of a northern gale Anthony could understand the master’s apprehensions.

  Patrolling the frigid water from Nantucket to Halifax and back was bad enough, but to be pushed onto the rocks in a heavy gale would likely mean certain death.

  Sable Island lay off the larboard beam. In the years since 1750, both the French and British navy had lost all manner of ships, from third rates to brigs, off Sable's treacherous waters.

  "Morning, my Lord!"

  Turning, Anthony greeted his flag captain, "'Morning, Dutch."

  Captain Moffett had strolled up to the windward side of the quarterdeck to greet his admiral. Rightfully this space belonged to Moffett by tradition but old habits died hard. How many times had Lord Anthony paced this area on his own ship? Moffett couldn't recall ever hearing of a captain confronting an admiral over where he could or couldn't pace on his flagship.

  "Has our flock returned to the mother hen, Dutch?"

  "Aye, my lord, Pigeon and Audacity have returned on station. Merlin and Drakkar were able to keep station during the gale."

  Merlin …Buck, steady Mr. Buck, now a captain in command of his own ship. Anthony had never known a more reliable man. And Pope, who was now captain on Drakkar, had proven himself time and time again fighting pirates in the West Indies.

  Lieutenant Harold Kerry in command of Pigeon and Lieutenant George Bush in command of Audacity were unknowns. They both seemed capable seaman but neither had the experience of Steve Earl, Gabe, or even Markham.

  Realizing Moffett had spoken Anthony replied, “I’m sorry Dutch, my mind is adrift today.”

  Moffett had sensed Lord Anthony was worried. Lieutenant Anthony and SeaWolf should have been back weeks ago. That combined with running before the gale for two days had increased Lord Anthony’s anxiety.

  “I was saying sir, I wouldn’t be surprised if “young Gabe”—as Bart was so apt to call Lieutenant Anthony—didn’t get sent on some errand by Lord Howe.”

  “That’s possible,” Anthony replied without conviction.

  Changing tack Moffett continued, “With your permission, my Lord, I’d thought I’d have the bosun pipe ‘make and mend’. After the wetting we took from the gale the crew could use the time to patch things up and dry out some clothes.”

  “I agree, Dutch, but it’s your ship. You don’t need my permission for your daily routine.”

  “Thank you, my Lord, here comes your cox’n.”

  Anthony watched as his cox’n approached. Another reliable man. “ Damme Bart, but you appear more like a senior officer than I do dressed in your cox’n coat.”

  “It’s the one yews picked out, sir, and glad I ams of it. It be much colder here than at ‘ome.”

  “I agree,” Anthony replied. “Now tell me, Bart, what’s so urgent to have you moving before the forenoon watch?

  “Breakfast.”

  “Breakfast?”

  “Aye, sir, Silas done said to hurry on down afore the eggs get cold.”

  “He does, does he?”

  “Aye, sir, iffen yews to be awhile we’uns will dispose of ‘em and Silas will set to cooking yews some more.”

  “Uh huh! And am I to understand that by disposing of the eggs means the two of you will eat them?”

  “ ` Ats one way of disposing of ‘em, I guess; now yews mentioned it. ‘Hit would be sinful to waste ‘em.”

  “Well, go dispose of them as you and Silas see fit but tell Silas I’ll be there directly and if I don’t have a hot breakfast he’ll taste the cats, a dozen at least”

  “Aye cap’n, oh aye sir, taste the cat he will, ha! ha!, and I’ll count the lashes for you, I will.”

  “Count the lashes, you old dog, you couldn’t count past ten with your boots off.”

  “That may be true, sir, but I’s bettin’ old Silas’d never last more’n ‘alf a dozen. That’s me wager.”

  As always Bart had spoken the last word then had gone.

  ***

  Anthony had finished his eggs and was on his second cup of coffee when the marine announced, “Flag lieutenant, zur.”

  “Gunfire,” Markham exclaimed as he burst into the cabin.

  “Are you sure?” Anthony questioned.

  “Aye,
my Lord.”

  Trying not to appear too excited, Anthony made his way on deck with Markham and Bart in tow.

  Captain Moffett had a glass to his eye peering at the group of sails just on the horizon. Sensing someone was near, Moffett acknowledged his admiral. “Sorry, my Lord, my mind was on yonder sail.”

  “As is mine,” Anthony replied, “Have you been able to sort it out?”

  “Aye, sir, it appears to be the convoy. We think the rear of the convoy is being harassed by those damn Colonial raiders. We patrol for weeks and not a sight, but just as soon as the convoy arrives so do the sharks.”

  “No point in showing, less there’s bounty to be had is there, Dutch?”

  “No, my Lord, but it’s vexing all the same.”

  About that time the lookout hailed down. “Merlin’s up to the head of the convoy, sir, but I can’t make out what’s happening further back in the pack.”

  Anthony looked to Moffett upon hearing the lookout’s report.

  “I sent Merlin and Audacity to investigate as they were closest to convoy,” Moffett stated. I’m sure those raiders will be less likely to hang around if there’s a show of force.”

  “Good,” Anthony replied.

  Half an hour later the first of the convoy were clearly visible and headed to Halifax. Lieutenant Angus approached the first lieutenant, “Have you noticed, sir, how all the ships in the Colonies are named. It amazes me. We’ve seen the Bonnie Lass, the Sarah, the Beloved Brenda. Do you think she’s a wife or mistress?”

  “I don’t know,” Herrod answered Angus, “But keep your eyes peeled for the Charming Peggy. She’s been turned into a privateer.”

  Hearing the Lieutenant’s talk of wives and mistresses made Anthony think not only of his wife, Lady Deborah, but also of his father’s mistress and Gabe’s mother, Maria. Deborah and his sister, Becky, had vowed to visit Maria frequently. Anthony could only imagine how alone she must feel living in the house in Portsmouth. Her companion of many years now gone, and her son far away fighting in the war. Anthony prayed all was well. He also prayed Deborah was well. She was his wife, his friend, and his lover. She was all a woman should be. She had been very proud of Anthony’s promotion, but on their last night together before the squadron sailed, she had whispered, “Admiral you’ll be to the world, but to me you’ll always by my dashing captain.”