HMS Seawolf

by Michael Aye

  After Rud stood to leave he addressed Gabe, “If all Britishers were like you and Dagan I doubt we’d be warring. I’m obliged to have met you and was glad to have helped sprung you from your fix. Don’t worry about your little lady; we’ll keep our ears and eyes out for her. We’ll also put out the word on Montique. Maybe Colonel Marion will pay him a personal visit.”

  ***

  A stiff breeze was blowing when Gabe made his way on deck at dawn. Seeing him, Mr. Harrell, Swan’s first lieutenant, nudged his captian.

  Markham, looking at Gabe, said, “I thought you might ‘sleep in’ this morning.”

  “No,” Gabe replied. “Old habits die hard.”

  Instantly Markham knew Gabe longed for his ship. Was it always so? A woman, a ship, but always a longing.

  “The master says the winds will die some at first light. He expects a sunny day but relates it will get colder as we continue northward.”

  “Not like those warm days at Antigua is it, my friend?” Gabe asked.

  “Nay, but that’s in the past, Gabe, it’s best to think on today.”

  At six bells the bosun piped up hammocks. After the men rolled their hammocks, they were sent to wash and scrub the weather decks with holystones, then flog them dry. Most of the men had a substantial appetite by the time the cook and his mates had the galley fires lit and breakfast was piped.

  Markham had never been a fast eater and felt the men should have time to enjoy their meals so he allowed one glass for breakfast. Thirty minutes was more than enough time for most men to eat their oatmeal gruel and still have time for a chew or bowl of tobacco.

  ***

  “Sail ho! Two sails off the larboard beam.”

  “Damn early for company is it not, Mr. Davy?”

  “Aye, Mr. Harrell, that it is. Should I inform the captain, sir?”

  “I’m sure he heard the hail, but we’ll follow protocol. My compliments to the captain and there’s two strange sails off the larboard beam.”

  “No need, Mr. Harrell, I’m here.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Anything further?”

  “Not yet, sir.”

  “Mr. Davy, be so kind as to take a glass aloft. It appears our man aloft doesn’t have as good a set of peepers as Quinn did yesterday,” Markham ordered.

  “Aye, sir. I’ll report right away,” Davy replied, and then clambered up the shrouds, shunning the lubbers hole as he gained the lookout’s platform.

  “Deck there,” Davy shouted. “Two schooners, sir.”

  “He didn’t waste any time, did he?” Lieutenant Harrell commented.

  “Experience, Mr. Harrell, experience. I trained, ‘ere…Lieutenant Anthony and I trained that boy ourselves,” Markham corrected himself as he noticed Gabe’s gaze upon him.

  “Deck there,” Davy called down again, “Appears to be two Colonials, sir.”

  “Well, that puts paid in putting a boat ashore,” Markham replied.

  However, something Rud had said gave Gabe something to consider. But this was Markham’s ship, not his, so they’d have to discuss it.

  “Captain Markham?”

  The official use of his title caused Markham to turn toward his friend, “Yes?”

  “May I have a word with you, please?”

  “Now?

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Very well. Mr. Harrell, keep a close look out.” Markham ordered as he strode aft to confer with Gabe.

  “Damme sir, but have you been in the sun too long? Has your brain been completely fried?” Markham asked after hearing Gabe’s plan.

  “Listen, Frances, it’s a way to get our passengers ashore and put out the word on Montique at the same time.”

  “Playing the devil’s advocate,” Markham asked, “What makes you so sure they’ll act as you suppose?”

  “Come on, Frances, wouldn’t you at least initially honor a flag of truce?”

  “Gabe, how is it I know you’re scheming when you use my first name?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Because you do it everytime. Sure as hell when there’s a chance to end up arsehole over elbows you always use Frances. Come on Frances, there’s nothing to it Frances. Well, let me tell you something, Mr. Gabriel Anthony, if there’s a court martial and we wind up on the beach you have just acquired another mouth to feed.”

  Surprised, Gabe exclaimed, “You’ll do it? That’s my Frances.” To which Markham rolled his eyes and shook his head and groaned, “Ohh….h”

  Back on deck, Markham called Mr. Harrell, “Bend on a flag of truce. Mr. Davy, get ready to launch a long boat. Lieutenant Anthony is going on a rowing expedition.”

  Both Harrell and Davy looked shocked, but both turned to do their bidding without question. Markham then turned to the bosun, “Reduce sail.”

  Mr. Harrell then reported, “Flag on truce bent on as ordered, sir.”

  “Very well, Mr. Harrell, now have one of the starboard cannons fired. Unshotted, Mr. Harrell, without shot.”

  By the time the cannon had been fired hoping to attract attention to the flag of truce, Gabe and Rud were getting into the longboat with Erin in company. As the three made their way from the ship, Markham felt a sense of regret. Erin as well as the rest of the ladies had dined with him and Gabe, but for some reason he hated to see that one go.

  Before reaching the larger of the two schooners, Gabe had noted a boat had put out from the smaller ship and apparently her captain had been rowed across.

  Both schooners were sleek, nimble well-handled vessels. Their captains knew their business no doubt and Gabe couldn’t help but think they’d present a tough pair in a battle. There was no doubt the two would wreak havoc on British shipping and make a nice profit for themselves as privateers.

  “Permission to come aboard,” Gabe called out as his boat bumped into the hull of the larger ship. As Gabe climbed the ladder he heard a thud and a splash. Rud had misjudged his step and now his left leg dangled in the cold Atlantic.

  “Better have the lady wait on a bosun’s chair,” was called down from above. Gabe made his way through the entry port onto the deck, and then turned to lend Rud a hand before introducing himself. He had borrowed clothes from Markham, so at least he was presentable this time, he thought, recalling the slaves clothing he’d been wearing when he tried to introduce himself to Montique.

  “Lieutenant Gabriel Anthony,” Gabe said, introducing himself before allowing the ship’s captain to question him. “This is Mr. Rud. He’s part of Colonel Francis Marion’s South Carolina brigade, and the lady is Miss Erin Lancaster from Boston.”

  The two captains then introduced themselves. I’m Captain Jack Cunningham and welcome aboard the Norfolk Gold. This is Captain Malachi Mundy and that’s his Willing Maid you see there. We are out of the tidewater area.”

  Gabe noticed he hadn’t been specific as to exactly where.

  “Now what do we have of such importance that a Navy Lieutenant is willing to surrender, shots unfired.”

  “Truce sir, not surrender, just a momentary truce that I feel will be most beneficial for both of us, should you allow me but a quarter hour of your time.”

  It was a full hour before Gabe, Captains Cunningham and Mundy, Rud and Erin returned on deck. Gabe had told his story in full then stepped aside as Rud and then Erin had both been questioned. She had brought out something that Gabe had forgotten to mention. Not only were Cunningham and Mundy from Tidewater but so were the rest of the ladies. Erin had been the only one from a different area. These bits of information seem to make the two privateer captains more determined to lend a hand.

  “We’ll send this one home,” Cunningham said as he put his hand across Rud’s shoulder, “And we’ll make sure the women are cared for and protected until they can be reunited with their families.”

  “We’ll also put out the word on Montique,” Mundy volunteered. “A treacherous soul that one and one to watch if I’m any kind of judge. You be careful, Lieutenant Anthony. That man wil
l soon be ruined, both his reputation and finances. A man like that will hold a grudge and try to hurt you any way possible even if it’s with your missy that went to Savannah.” This thought gave Gabe a chill.

  As Gabe made his way over the side, Captain Mundy spoke again, “I hope the Willing Maid and your SeaWolf never come to blows. You’re a honorable man and I like you.”

  “Aye,” Cunningham chimed in, “We’d not like to battle you, but we will if we must.”

  As the girls were being loaded into the longboats, Gabe talked with Lum. “Rud says you can go with him and Colonel Marion will make you free after the war. Captain Cunningham also says he has a place for you and you’d be a free man. Your other option is to stay with me. You can either be signed on as a crew member or you can be my servant, and you’ll be paid as a free man.”

  Lum looked very solemn. “You don’t wants to be rid of me do ya suh?”

  “No, Lum, you know better.”3

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to be fighting against you if I can help it. I can make do on the rivers, sloughs, and backwaters around Port Royal but I ain’t much count when it comes ta’being a deep water sailor, so’s I guess I’ll just be yah servant. You is going after Missy Faith after the war, ain’t ya?”

  “I sure am, Lum, I sure am.”

  “Well, we’s best stay together then suh. I’ll be yo servant till we see Missy Faith and Nanny again. Now what can I do foh ya as yo’ servant dat is?”

  “Teach me to play the lotz, Lum. I want to learn to play it.”

  After his talk with Lum, Gabe went to say his goodbyes to the girls and Rud. Dagan was talking to Kawliga and Jubal so Gabe made his way over to their group to thank them. Just as he was approaching he heard Caleb say to Jubal, “I have a letter here for Kitty. See that she gets it, will you?”

  “I will,” Jubal promised, then as a youth will do asked the all important question, “Are you sweet on her, Caleb?”

  “Aye, lad, that I am,” Caleb answered very sincerely without hesitating.

  Well, I’ll be damned, Gabe thought as Caleb’s actions suddenly made sense.

  Chapter Two

  The following day was no different than most days at sea. Overnight the wind had backed some but it was still ‘a soldier wind.’ The schooner’s sails were impressive and Markham knew how to handle the Swan.

  They were on a heading almost due north. The water along the leeside seemed to be rushing past as evidence of the ship’s progress. Seven knots at least Gabe thought. It was almost as if the ship couldn’t wait to join the rest of Lord Anthony’s squadron.

  It was rejuvenating to feel the wind and the motion of the ship as it climbed a wave only to dip its bow into a trough then rear up to meet another wave. The occasional spray that came amidship was refreshing even if it did cause the sunburn on Gabe’s face to sting somewhat. After all the frustrations and pain suffered these past few weeks, Gabe couldn’t help but question himself. Did he do right by leaving the convoy to go after a single ship? Admiral Gayton had stressed the need for the gunpowder. “Britain is hamstrung by these damable shortages” had been Gayton’s words. But would they hold up in a court martial? At least he could say he kept it from the Colonials. But what about Gil? What would his reaction be, Gabe wondered? Would he have acted as he had done? Or would Gil have stayed with the convoy? Gabe knew Gil had stretched matters by putting Markham aboard the Swan and sending her on dispatch without ever sending her through the prize courts.

  He would be given some discretion as an admiral, but if the truth of the real mission to rescue Gabe was ever publicized then like his father Gil may have to haul down his flag and retire. The thought sent an involuntary shudder through Gabe.

  “You cold?”

  Gabe had not been aware of Caleb and Dagan as they walked up on him. He now sat in their shadow.

  “You cold?” Caleb repeated.

  “Could be the smell of the galley,” Dagan spoke without giving Gabe a chance to respond to Caleb. Continuing, Dagan said, “Smells like greasy slush. Just what we need to put some meat back on those bones, boiled beef hacked into a mixture of soggy ship’s biscuits with a little slush on top. That’ll put the weight back on you.”

  “Or kill him one,” Caleb chimed in as he set on the bulwark.

  Dagan squatted between them, and took out his pipe, and filled his bowl, speaking softly, “It’s a hard time we have ahead of us but I’ve a feeling you two will find what you’re looking for.”

  Neither Caleb nor Gabe spoke as Dagan put his back to the wind, and with cupped hands soon had his pipe lit, sending an aromatic smell down the length of the ship which all but overcame the odor from the galley funnel.

  Another shadow appeared, causing the group to look up. It was Lum. He squatted next to Dagan and lit his own pipe. Not a meerschaum like Dagan’s but a simple corn cob pipe with a straight stem. As the four sat together, Swan made her way up the coast in a ghostly silent manner.

  Looking to larboard, Lum said what they were all feeling. “They’s watching us, they knows we heah! Trouble is we don’t know what they’s about.” Then Lum took his lotz from inside his shirt and after licking his lips played another of his sad melodies.

  Looking at the black man whose black hair gleamed from ocean spray and specks of gray, Gabe thought, damned if he doesn’t have the uncanny knack of playing a tune to fit my mood.

  Later that night as the sky darkened, the men off watch slung their hammocks and everybody seemed to be in his own world. Gabe lay down in his cot in the captain’s cabin. Markham had been very gracious, sharing his cabin with him. Lying there, the familiarity of the ship seemed to ease his troubled mind. While he wasn’t back on the SeaWolf, he was at sea in an environment in which he knew and was comfortable in. This was the salve his soul needed.

  ***

  The dawn broke with the promise of a much different day. Davy, bright and cheerful, as ever sidled up to Gabe, “Master says we’ll get wet today.”

  “Well, I’d never question the master,” Gabe replied, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Years of service at sea made him an early riser…but he’d never be a good riser.

  Seeing Gabe on deck, Markham walked over to his friend. “Get the cob webs cleared yet?” Gabe’s answer was a yawn.

  “Nantucket is off to larboard,” Markham explained, “I want to stay well out so we want have to play errand boy to some self important captain or another admiral. If all goes well, we should meet up with Lord Anthony tomorrow.”

  Towards noon the master’s prediction came true. A heavy drizzle started and the sky turned gray matching the sea which was getting up. Markham crossed the deck and the man at the wheel volunteered, “She be steady, sir,” nor’by-east, full and bye.”

  Markham nodded and seemed to be on edge. “Massachusetts is home to some of the most able privateers. We can’t let our guard down this close to home. While you were…ere…in the southern colonies Gabe, a dispatch schooner was headed to New York and was taken by the brigantine, Trannicide, fourteen guns. Her Captain Fisk is without a doubt a capable man.”

  “Deck there! Sail, no two sails dead ahead off the starboard bow.”

  Gabe and Markham both gave a knowing look to each other. “Mr. Davy!”

  “On my way captain.” Davy didn’t wait to be told. Upon hearing the sighting he’d grabbed a glass and was making his way towards the shrouds before Markham could call out.

  Looking at Gabe, Markham said, “Cheeky little bugger. Thinks he has me figgered out does he?”

  “Aye, that he does,” Gabe replied noticing Dagan headed toward him with Lum in tow.

  “It’s a brigantine grappled to another ship, sir, maybe a corvette.”

  Dagan and Gabe looked at one another, could it be the same ship they’d met off the South Carolina border?

  “Are you sure, Mr. Davy?”

  “Aye, sir, I’m sure and it’s a fight they're having, I’m thinking. You can see muzzle flashes.”

  “Very
well,” Markham replied, then turning to Lieutenant Harrell, “Beat to quarters if you will, sir. It appears we’ve work to do today.”

  Harrell stood by the wheel while Gabe and Markham discussed the strange sail. Would the corvette, if that was what she truly was, recognize Swan? Would her captain know she had been taken? These were all questions that passed between Gabe and Markham; questions but no answers. However, in these waters you could choose a dozen possibilities and all spelled trouble.

  “Deck there! She’s definitely a corvette, sir.” Well, if Davy was that sure then they had a fight on their hands.

  “She’ll have twenty guns at least,” Markham replied.

  “Aye,” Gabe answered, “But if we’ve seen them then likely the schooner she attacked has spotted us as well so maybe that will put the odds in our favor.”

  “We’ll know soon enough I imagine,” Markham answered and then turned his voice to the lookout, “Keep watching her, Davy.”

  Gabe waited for the deck to steady as Swan’s bow dipped through a swell and then he trained his glass on the two ships. They were close enough now. Individuals could be made out. With only a small crew, Swan would be hard put to give a good accounting for herself.

  With Gabe, Dagan, Lum and Caleb the total number on board was only seventy-six. She needed ninety to properly fight. Gabe was sure the privateer had double their number on board. Hopefully, the schooner would have enough survivors left to lessen the odds.

  “You going to close and fight her, sir?” said Lieutenant Harrell.

  Markham’s reply was short and terse, “Would you have me turn our heels and abandon yonder ship sir?”

  Experience , Gabe thought. The man lacked experience. It had never occurred to Markham to do anything but fight.

  It was his duty. The gunner approached Markham, knuckled his forehead and announced, “Cleared for action sir, all guns loaded.”

  Swan carried fourteen six-pounders and half a dozen swivels. The Swan was now on a converging tack, bowsprit to bowsprit, like two knights engaging in a joust. Dagan was on deck now bringing with him Gabe’s sword and pistols. So near the admiral’s squadron, yet so far away. Lum was with Dagan, seeing him Gabe felt a pang of sorrow for this man involved in a war where regardless of who won his station in life would differ but little.