by Michael Aye
“Lum.”
“Yes, suh.”
“You do not have to fight this battle. You can go below until it’s over.”
“You’s going to fight ain’t ya, Mister Gabe?”
“Aye, Lum, that I am, but it’s my duty.”
“Well suh, it’s my duty to watch over you like I done promised Missy Faith I’d do. So we’s both got our duties to do.”
Gabe knew it would be pointless to try to dissuade the man farther. He instead turned to Dagan, “Help Lum pick out a good weapon.”
“Aye,” Dagan replied. Then as the two walked off Gabe had another thought.
“Lum.”
“Yes, suh?”
“We aren’t fighting masters, plantation overseers or white men, we’re fighting the enemy, do you understand that? A man’s color doesn’t matter.”
“Yes suh, I understand, it’s kill or be kilt.”
After Lum and Dagan went to collect weapons for themselves, Gabe approached Markham. “Frances, what would you have me do? I’m at your disposal.”
Dispairingly Markham shook his head, “It’s a fool’s errand Gabe. How can we do anything but make a gesture. However, we’ve been in worse shapes haven’t we, old friend?”
“That we have,” Gabe replied.
“I’m about to fire the forward guns then have the rest of the guns fire as we come abreast. The swivels are loaded with grape. I figure our only chance is to grapple and board. We’ll never stand a chance against twenty twelve-pounders. I was going to send Harrell forward and I was going to position my party amidships. If you’re bound to get yourself shot at you can take a party aft. Hopefully, we’ll meet in the middle.”
“We’ll meet,” Gabe responded and shook Markham’s hand, “Take care my friend, have a care.”
***
“Take in the mainsail Mr. Harrell. Run up the colors Mr. Davy. Fire as you bear. Let’s give them a taste of British steel.”
Markham was right. The privateer was heavily armed and there was a score of men on deck. The forward gun went off and someone fired a swivel at the same time, a double percussion… BOOM! BANG! …startled Gabe.
Then one by one, Swan’s remaining six guns fired. However, the enemies’ guns were not silent and with a thunderous crash a hole was blasted through forward, uplifting the number one gun which landed on its side crushing several crewmen. A gaping hole was now where a gun port had been. Shot after shot plowed into the Swan. Most however went high as consideration had not been taken to fact that Swan being a smaller ship set lower in the water. The starboard bulwark had taken a beating with only a few sections left standing. The mainmast had a gash in it that sent splinters flying and blinding one of the bosun mates. Riggings were taken a beating but so far everything that was supposed to be aloft was still aloft.
He could now hear the shouts and curses as men fought. The schooner’s people gave a cheer as Swan’s hull dug into the privateer’s hull and come to a grinding halt. Grapnels were heaved and while some were being made tight, others were used by men to swing over and climb up the bigger ship.
Gabe, Dagan, Lum and a group all boarded onto the bow of the corvette. A group of cursing men was there waiting on them and with screams and threats the two groups collided. Lum met his attacker first and a wicked blow from a boarding axe caused a handspike to clatter on deck as the man holding it found his hand was now only holding on to his arm by a small piece of flesh. Screaming, he broke and ran.
Gabe found himself fending off a rogue who knew how to handle a cutlass, however he was to aggressive and fell for a feint Gabe made which opened his guard and Gabe’s sword plunged into the man’s armpit causing blood to spurt. Startled shouts and musket shots seemed to be coming from every direction.
Gabe suddenly became angry, wildly angry. All the vented frustrations seem to let loose at once. A man with a bayoneted musket tried to fire only to realize he’d not reloaded after firing the last shot so he lunged at Gabe with the bayonet that Gabe deftly deflected then shot the man with his pistol. He then ducked as a man slashed at him with a blade only to fall to Lum’s axe.
“This way men, this way `Swannies`,” that was Markham rallying the men. Another loud sound from amidships, a swivel had been fired. Looking across the privateer’s deck, Gabe realized what looked like a pile of rubbish was actually dead bodies.
Another privateer brandishing a boarding pike and pistol attacked Dagan. However, slipping in blood Dagan fell causing his own weapon to go off taking the top of the man’s skull off. Above the den of clashing steel, musket and pistol shots, screams and curses Gabe could hear the sudden cheers of men. Theirs or ours, he wondered.
“To midships,” he called to his group, “Make your way to midships.” Continuing to fight, the battle seemed less furious. Davy stood over a man rolling on the deck; his dirk was sticking from the man’s chest. Blood ran down Davy’s hand. As the man tried to raise and fire his pistol Dagan raised a boarding pike and crashed it down across the man’s skull.
“Dat one was already dahyd and ‘jus didn’t know it,” Lum declared.
Struggling over upended guns Gabe realized Swan’s guns did more than he had first thought. The fighting had all but ended, as Gabe’s group made their way past sprawled bodies and wounded men crawling, begging for help.
Then suddenly one last group of privateers seemed to rise up in defiance. Their leader swung a boarding axe that made a swooshing sound as Gabe ducked under its blade. As he ducked he lost his footing and landed heavy on his backside only to be jerked up by Dagan who quipped, “No time for sitting down on the job now.”
The man who swung the blade was now on the deck in a big puddle of blood. When Gabe looked further the man appeared to have a third eye. One created by a musket ball courtesy of Swan’s marine sharpshooters. Now that the resistance had almost ended, Gabe’s group made their way to Markham’s group. Markham turned to greet Gabe when Davy shouted, “Look out sir!” Just in time Markham jumped backwards. His attacker had sliced open his coat with a heavy cutlass. Markham felt an instant burning sensation to his stomach and felt a warm wetness when he touched the area with his hand. Then the man with his blade held high above his head yelled a curse and lunged at Markham.
Using his own blade to take the brunt of the blow a numbing shock seemed to penetrate his shoulder. As the two blades clashed a sudden fear gripped Markham, and with a bloody hand he removed his knife from his belt. His attacker, a much bigger man, was filled with blood lust and seemed to be ignorant that the battle was lost. Once again, raising his cutlass in an arc over his head the man swung his blade with all his might. Had the aim been true it would have killed, but again Markham used his blade to deflect the other’s cutlass, but this time he only partially deflected the blade and by giving some and side-stepping, his opponent became off balance and fell forward exposing his flank. As he did so Markham drove his knife blade deep to the hilt, right into the man’s kidney. The man fell into a pile then as one, the Swannies broke into cheers. The tired but jubilant men clapped their friends’ back and shook each other’s hands.
“So we can’t do anything but make a gesture,” Gabe asked recalling Markham’s words. “Well, damme sir, but I think we just made one hell of a gesture.”
“Aye,” Markham replied, “But we couldn’t have done it without your help.”
“Cap’n!”
“Yes, Mr. Davy.”
“The brigantine’s captain requests to see you, sir, but he’s wounded so you’ll have to go to him.”
“Very well. Where’s Mr. Harrell?”
“He’s…ah…he’s been wounded, sir,” Davy replied with a snicker.
“Something about Mr. Harrell being wounded humours you, sir?”
“Aye, cap’n, when he was boarding he slipped and fell on the prong of a grappling hook.”
“Is his injury serious, Mr. Davy?”
“I…don’t…think so, but it’s the first time I ever seen a man grapple his own arse, s
ir.” The crew upon hearing Davy’s words howled in laughter.
“Mr. Davy!” Markham scowled at the youth while trying to suppress his own laughter. “You better hope the lieutenant is not laid up too long because you’ll be doing his duties.”
As Gabe and Dagan turned away, Lum innocently asked, “What’s he mean, grapple his arse?” Which set the crew to howling again. Turning, Gabe saw Markham giving him the eye, so he grinned, shrugged and went back to board the Swan.
***
Gabe was at the point of boarding the Swan when he heard a commotion. Turning he saw Davy with his pistol drawn at a man who was apparently trying to make his way below on the privateer. Since Markham was tending the schooner’s captain, Gabe decided to investigate.
“What do we have here, Mr. Davy?”
“Frenchman, sir, trying to slip below. He’s slowly worked his way from midships to the companion ladder, sir. I thought his actions were suspicious so I watched and stopped him as he was making his move to get below.”
Dagan was patting the man down for weapons and found a key in the man’s coat pocket. Turning to Gabe he said, “He’s no crewman…officer…and more than likely he’s the captain.” The key on a gold chain swung from Dagan’s hand emphasizing the suspicion.
Gabe nodded, “Go below and see if there’s a magic box this key may fit.”
“Aye,” Dagan replied and taking Lum in tow headed down to the captain’s cabin.
Gabe then turned his attention to the prisoner, “You are French?”
“Oui, m’sieu, I am from France.”
“What ship is this?”
“She is Le Frelon.”
“The Hornet,” Gabe replied.
“Oui, the Hornet.”
“Well, m’sieu, I think she’s stung her last British ship.” The Frenchman seemed nonchalant and only shrugged.
“You commanded her?” Gabe asked.
“Oui, I’ve had the pleasure.”
“Do you know you’ll hang for this, your act of piracy?” Gabe continued.
“I think not,” the man answered, “We are not pirates. We are privateers. I have a letter of Marque from the Marine Committee in Philadelphia.”
“What is your name,” Gabe asked.
The Frenchman smiled, “Au, we have forgotten the courtesies, have we not? I am Capitaine Francois Robeaud.” The man’s continued use of the word ‘oui and `au was starting to anger Gabe who thought, “oui hell! “ However, formalities required he be civil.
“I am Lieutenant Gabrial Anthony.”
“Do you command the ship?” Robeaud asked, indicating the Swan.
“I do not, sir, that privilege belongs to Lieutenant Frances Markham. He is presently with the brigantine’s captain.”
It then occurred to Gabe that Markham should be present. “Mr. Davy!”
“Aye, sir.”
“Would you be so kind as to give my regards to Captain Markham and if convenient could he return to the prize.”
“Aye, cap’n…ere sir.’
“Bosun!”
“Sir?”
“As soon as the prisoners are well secured take a party and search this ship.” Gabe ordered.
“Aye, sir,” the bosun replied then gathering up a party made his way below.
Turning back to the corvette captain, Gabe said, “Tell your crew to behave and they will be treated fairly, otherwise …”
“I cannot, m’sieu.”
“Well, you damn well better,” Gabe growled, “Because I promise you sir, that should they try any mischief or attempt to damage this vessel in any way they will be fired upon without any quarter. The choice is up to you.”
“What choice is that?” Gabe turned to see Markham had arrived. He introduced Robeaud to Markham, and then explained his comments. Markham then faced Robeaud.
“As I recall sir, your men threw down their arms but you never came forth and gave your formal surrender.”
“Because I have not,” Robeaud replied.
“It is with regret then sir, but I deem your actions less than honorable and place you under arrest. Mr. Davy, see that the prisoner is properly secured on board the Swan.”
“I protest,” Robeaud cried, “This is absurd.”
“Protest all you desire captain, Markham answered, “But arrested you are.”
At that time, Dagan came back on deck. “I think we’ve found something of interest.”
Turning, Gabe saw the obvious bulge in Dagan’s pockets and Lum’s shirt appeared to protrude. “Damn,” Gabe thought. “I hope Markham doesn’t become interested in what’s in their pockets and shirt.”
As Gabe and Markham went down to the captain’s cabin Lum stood aside and then made his way back to the Swan. Letting Markham go ahead, Gabe whispered to Dagan, “Surely your not turning Lum into a larsonist?”
“Just looking after retirement,” Dagan answered, “Us’s retirement.”
Dagan had indeed found a magic box in which the key fit. “Damme,” Markham exclaimed after reading the first page of a bundle of papers that had been locked in the box. As he started reading the second page, he handed the first to Gabe who was just as astonished as Markham.
“Damme, sir, do you know what this means?”
“Aye,” Markham replied. “I think we’d better get underway directly. After seeing these papers perhaps Lord Anthony will not ask if we found anything else of value.”
“Damn,” Gabe thought eyeing Dagan and then replied, “We didn’t, Frances, we didn’t.”
Long after putting the papers back in the box and locking it, the heading of the papers still burned in Markham’s brain. “Plans for the invasion and occupation of Nova Scotia.”
***
It was midday when the lookout called down, “Sail off the larboard bow.” Swan, Le Frelon and the merchant brigantine all reduced sail until the sighting had been identified. It was the gun ketch, Pigeon, commanded by Lieutenant Kerry. Pigeon had just rounded Cape Sable on her way to rendezvous with Lord Anthony’s squadron at Halifax.
“You gave me a start,” Kerry said to Markham. “It’s not often we see a French corvette in these waters. I was sure you were a group of privateers.” After hearing of Le Frelon’s capture Kerry was surprised to hear Gabe was acting as commander. “So he’s not dead. Half the squadron believes he’s alive, while the other half thinks he’s dead. Lord Anthony made it plain when he put Lieutenant Earl in command of SeaWolf—it was only temporary—until Gabe returned. Some thought him daff but he was so positive I figured he knew something the rest of us didn’t.”
“Aye,” Markham replied, “he knew Dagan and if Dagan say’s it, you can count on it.”
***
It was a joyous greeting that Gabe and Markham found waiting on them as they glided into the harbour of Halifax. Not only were Gabe and Markham returning, but they were returning with a French corvette as a prize. The Pigeon had made all sail and alerted everyone to their soon arrival.
“The admiral is sure pacing,” Lieutenant Herrod remarked to Captain Moffett.
“Aye, that he is,” Moffett replied. “He said all along Gabe was alive, but I can’t help but believe there was a nagging doubt. I’m glad for him. He sets some store in young Gabe. More like a son than a brother.”
“There’s Bart, captain, I can just imagine his words, ‘know’d ‘e were alive; ’I’s jus know’d it.” Herrod had Bart down pat. His mimicking the admiral’s cox’n made Moffett chuckle.
“I—ha! ha!—don’t think I’d let Bart hear you, Mr. Herrod—ha! ha!—not if you plan on staying around long enough to make captain.
As the Swan crept closer her battle wounds were obvious. A gaping void in her bulwark had not been replaced, nor were the scars in her mast that still had pieces of iron imbedded in it. The damaged rigging had been replaced and the “new” stood out in contrast to the older, more seasoned rigging. The decks had been washed down well after the battle, the water had poured thick and bloody as it ran down the scuppers.
Now it would be hard for a person to fully comprehend the fierceness of the battle.
But some knew and that was why the harbour was lined, not only with Lord Anthony’s ships, but also with every type of boat imaginable—all shouting, cheering, huzza…huzza. As Gabe stood on the corvette’s quarterdeck he caught a glimpse of his brother, standing tall and rigid then off came his hat in a bow…a salute. The reception the returning ships were getting caused Gabe to think of Antigua and how the islanders cheered when time after time Lord Anthony would return with one or more prizes. A sudden chilling wind caused a sail to pop and made Gabe think the cheering was the only thing similar to Antigua as he pulled his cloak closer. The damn weather certainly was not similar.
Chapter Three
Bart had the admiral’s barge crewed and on their way before Gabe had dropped anchor. “Let’s do it up proper like,” an excited Bart had urged Lord Anthony. “Make’um feel like they’s dig-na-terries being picked up in the admiral’s own barge. Then when the fuss is all over…me and Silas will cut out ‘is gizzard for scaring the life outta us’ns so.”
Bart’s sentiment mirrored his own Lord Anthony thought but it was hard to fill ill toward Gabe when he had been trying to do his duty. Turning toward the companionway, Lord Anthony spoke with the flag captain, “I’ll be in my quarters, Dutch. You can escort our wayward young officer down after you’re finished on deck. He seems to have picked up someone along the way so make him comfortable until I send for him.”
“Aye, my lord.” Dutch had also noticed the tall black man Gabe seemed to be pointing out things of interest to.
Suddenly a very loud cheer went up accented with musket fire. Lord Anthony paused and turning back to Dutch questioned, “SeaWolf?”
“Aye, my Lord, their captain is back.”
“I hope Earl won’t take offense.”