by David O'Neil
Because of the spy system operating along the coast Martin decided that the attack should be conducted immediately rather than at the end of the diplomatic tour down the coast. Dominic suggested that the diplomacy could benefit from reports of the defeat of the pirates in their Florida base. So there seemed little to lose and much to gain from reversing the schedule at this point. The chances were that the news of the capture of the Mohawk would not reach Florida before the squadron arrived.
The decision made, they sailed immediately while repairs were still in progress.
***
The weather was fine and the ships made a fine sight as they sailed south. The crews took advantage of the weather to air clothes and bedding with the help of wind funnels created with the sails brought out to air in their turn. There was an almost festive feeling among the crews. Those men wounded in the raid on the pirate ship were brought up to enjoy the sunshine and fresh air on deck.
For Julia the settling down of the crew in their new quarters, and training with the guns, occupied the first part of the voyage. Sail handling was second nature to most, as all had been selected from among trained seamen. Jackson Hobbs was first mate, presumed to take over as skipper when this particular voyage was over. Thirty-five years old, he was well used to the life of merchant seaman in the current turbulent times. With 18 guns the Mohawk was a formidable opponent for any merchantman, and capable of causing trouble for a naval sloop, which she resembled with her two-masted brigantine rig. Her 130 ft length made her well suited to her fighting role and, though with a smaller crew, equally well suited to her merchant status. The weight of the guns dictated her current fighting role.
The guns were exercised every day on instruction from the Commodore. Martin had made that clear after his experience in the last encounter with Captain Newman, especially since there were rumours of other pirate ships using the Keys.
There would be no concessions given to the people of the Key. They had to be aware of the nature of the ships that using their waters. They needed to be shown that the legal users of the trade routes would not tolerate pirates, or their supporters.
In the days that followed, the various captains met and planned their part in the attack. The rendezvous point, taking into account the possible pursuit of fleeing ships, would be Savannah, in Georgia. The command would devolve to Commodore Ramos in the event Martin was lost for any reason. The final briefing was conducted off Key Largo, as they approached the island of Key West, where the pirate base was reported to be.
Antonio Ramos’s task was to sail for two days southwards, round the string of islands and attack from the south. Accompanied by HMS Spartan and HMS Lively the ships should be in position to attack in four days. He would send a small boat forward to spy the anchorage and take soundings from the south. It looked as if the attack might need to be with small craft. The only charts they had were those taken from the Mohawk. Though they were reasonably detailed their pencilled-in amendments suggested a rather casual approach to navigation, which was not re-assuring to the naval element of the raiding party. In addition they only indicated entry to the anchorage from the south for the bigger ships. There was a channel from the Gulf of Mexico but, depending on tides and the movement of the sandbanks in the shallow waters, it could be a slow painstaking business.
Martin finally decided to dispatch the Sao Paulo with the two sloops immediately on their agreed patrol to cover the possibility of returning craft coming in to block off the entry channel and trapping Martin’s ships inside Key West Harbour.
Chapter nineteen
The raid
Having agreed to the plans, Martin, with HMS Vixen and Hera, would follow Mohawk into the anchorage between Tank Island and Key West itself, at the western end. First they would lie off and allow time for the Sao Paulo and the sloops to get into position. On entering the harbour the plan was to capture or destroy any ships they found there.
Martin hoped to catch Newton at the location as they closed. He dispatched the jollyboat, with sail rigged, under the command of Midshipman Gibbs, to scout the pirate base and negotiate with local fishermen to find as much information as possible before making a rendezvous at Boca Chico Key, getting someone with local knowledge of the waters around Key West preferably.
As planned the Mohawk led the two naval ships on the last stages of the voyage to Key West. Sailing under all sail she gave a good impression of a ship fleeing from pursuit.
At Boca Chico Key the jollyboat shot out from the shore to run alongside HMS Vixen. A lowered sling brought Athol Gibbs aboard, and he had plenty to say.
“Sir, there is a passage as shown on the charts but it is defended. There is a sort of fort at the entry to the channel, It has guns sited but there is no garrison there and my informant says the men supposed to be there spend most of their time in the township. They depend on a lookout post giving warning. They reckon to have plenty of time to man the guns, if they are needed.
“The Huron, Captain Newton’s ship is expected back at any time now but there are two other ships, Blackhawk and Paragon in harbour at present. Blackhawk was once the French naval corvette Chantel, very similar to Vixen, sir. I have the feeling she is a deserter from the French Navy. Paragon has 20 guns. No one knows her origin. Abigail is with Huron. She is also expected back from the Mexican coast at any time now.”
“Are the crews on board the moored ships? Martin asked.
“From what I could see, certainly enough men to man the guns. The rest are ashore and judging from the noise enjoying themselves in the taverns.”
Martin turned to Lieutenant Bristow, the Captain of Marines. Prepare your men for the assault on the tavern. Take the marines from Hera. Lieutenant Brooks take the longboat and board the Paragon.” He turned to Julia standing with Jackson Hobbs waiting for orders.
“I think the chances are that Blackhawk’s crew are also mostly ashore. I would like you to lay Mohawk alongside her and take her. Mr. Gordon has offered his services. If that is acceptable he can return with you. I do stress that the men who crew these pirate ships give no quarter. They treat women as slaves and kill without compunction.” He looked at Jackson Hobbs. “They are as much enemies of America as they are of any other honest seafarer.”
Hobbs smiled grimly. “There’ll not be silliness from the Mohawk, Commodore. The men are all ready and willing.”
Dominic appeared with Martin’s sword at his side and pistols in his belt.
Martin noted wryly the way Julia reacted, as did Jackson.
“Best get in place then.” Jackson suggested, and the trio left the cabin to return to their ship.
Martin looked at Brooks. “How soon can you be ready?”
“The men are preparing now, sir. We will be ready to go when you give the order.”
“I want the longboat prepared to drop when we reach the harbour. Get the jollyboat unrigged and hauled up to deck level. Send in Harris. He should be here by now.”
Brooks departed and Lieutenant Harris, Captain of the Hera entered.
Martin gave his orders. “Take all the marines on board and enter the harbour at Key West. As soon as the action begins, land the marines and haul off to prevent any reinforcement of the anchored ships. Back up the marines with gunfire if necessary. When the shore is secured you may join whatever action is occurring offshore. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.” Harris turned and left the cabin almost at a run. Martin looked after him. Of all his officers he knew Harris least. He shrugged. So far he had done well. He decided he would make a point of getting to know him better when time allowed.
The rowers approached the anchored ships quietly, the oars moving silently in the cloth-bound crutches. The bulk of the Mohawk, under topsail and jib only, crept slowly toward the outer ship, Blackhawk, as the group of rowing boats converged on the Paragon.
Patrick Brooks looked at the shoreline, lit by a scatter of lights from the buildings there. The sound of music and the growl of voices came from the open
windows of the establishments catering for the seamen ashore on this warm evening.
As he watched the schooner Hera came into view casting her shadow over the water and plunging the small flotilla of raiders into darkness.
A swift look around, then Lieutenant Brooks started to do what he was paid for. Happy to be given the chance, he raised his voice as the longboat slid alongside their target, just above a whisper, he said, “Boarders away!”
The first of his men climbed the side of the Blackhawk, no great task for a top-man, while the others waited until his head appeared,
“What are yew men waitin’ fur, a bloody invitation?” He tossed a knotted rope over the side, then followed it with a second. As the men boarded silently more ropes appeared.
On deck, Brooks crouched listening to Lieutenant Keats, one of the first aboard, who was reporting on the current situation. “Two watchmen, both dead, the captain or perhaps not, on his bunk with a woman who did not like him.”
Brooks looked round sharply, ready to query the comment.
Keats grinned. “She was just completing the task of cutting off his… how do call them? …Cojones? Genitals? Is that right?”
Brooks grinned. “I get the message. Did she say anything?”
Keats shrugged. “She turned and saw the bo’sun at the door and threw the knife at him. It missed. The bo’sun didn’t!”
Martin boarded the ship from a boat, having come ashore with the marines.
“Where is everyone?” He asked. “They surely did not leave the ship this deserted?”
Midshipman Gibbs appeared dragging a boy, unwounded, but with a bruise on his face. “Sir, Mr. Brooks sent me. He said you would want to speak to this boy. From what this boy has to say, I think Captain Newton has stripped the ships of crew and loaded them all aboard the Huron and Abigail. It seems there was a hell of a row between the man, Absalom, who ran Key West and Captain Newton. Tell the Commodore, boy.” Gibbs shook the lad.
Martin looked at the miserable lad. About eleven, he thought. Addressing him directly, he asked, “Tell me who you are?”
“I’m James Woods, sir.” The boy stood as straight as he could, still in the grasp of Athol Gibbs.
Martin looked at Gibbs and nodded. “Well found, Mr. Gibbs. Leave the lad with me and return to your duties.”
With a swift, “Aye, Aye. Sir” Gibbs was gone
Martin turned to James Woods, who was still standing where he had been put. “So, Mr. Woods, where did you come from? Where is your home, lad?”
“I was taken from the merchant ship Compass mostly a year ago. My dad was killed with a sword in his hand, and they took Ma.” There was no need to elaborate. Undoubtedly, the boy had seen and heard what that meant in the company of pirates. Though Martin noticed a slight quiver of the lips the boy still stood defiantly, refusing to give way.
“You were saying about Captain Newton? Where was he bound with all the men and but two ships? What about boats?”
“I served in the house of Absolom, the Captain’s partner. It was easy work most of the time and I heard lots of things while I was there. The Captain always wanted to go to Campeche in Mexico. He said he had been told that the place was rich with booty and gold and silver from the mines inland. Absolom did not agree with him and has always put him off since I’ve been there.” He paused then, “The Captain has become ill. He gets angry and, when that happens, nobody is safe. Last week he lost himself completely and he struck Absolom a terrible blow. We all thought he had killed him. The Captain was sorry, I think. But he then started giving orders,
“The captains of the Blackhawk and Providence had no chance, he left them an anchor watch only. All their men were taken on board Huron and Abigail and they sailed last week for Campeche. Absolom has recovered a little but the people think he will die anyway.”
In the background the sound of odd shots and cries had ceased. The waterfront was quiet except for the tramp of the marching Marines along the quay toward the Hera where she lay alongside.
Martin stepped back to the gangway. “I think we will go ashore and, with your help, James, we will see Absolom and find out what is going on with Captain Newton. Mr. Harmon, a boat, if you please, and ask the doctor to join me. I believe he may be needed ashore.”
As Lieutenant Harmon disappeared on his errand, Martin turned to the boy. “Well, James. What would you like to do now?”
Looking puzzled the boy shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean, sir?”
“You have lost your father and your mother, so your future is up to you. What do you want to do with it? Stay here? Come with us and take your chances in America as your father intended? Or perhaps join the ship and become a member of the Royal Navy?”
Martin smiled and continued, “You don’t need to answer straight away. Think about it. I think there would be a place here for you if you wanted it. From what I have seen of America, you could become a pioneer, I believe.”
Lieutenant Harmon returned at that point and the Commodore and the boy left the cabin with the question unanswered.
“You have the ship,” Martin said to Neil Harmon. Please do not damage it.” He said with a smile.
“Of course, sir, I... I... would not dream of it, sir.” He stumbled flushing, pleased to be in command for however short a time.
***
The boat was challenged at the quay, and the watchful marine supervised the landing of the Commodore. He called over to the sergeant, seated at a table next to the nearest building. “Commodore on deck, Sergeant.”
The sergeant leapt to his feet, calling to his men. Six marines lifted their muskets and trotted over to form a rank. The sergeant turned and saluted. “At your orders, sir!”
Martin smiled, impressed despite himself. “We are going to a house in town. This young man will guide us.”
“Very good, sir.” The Sergeant saluted, turned and detailed two men to accompany the boy, while the other four followed the party.
Organised, the small column moved off with James Woods proudly in the lead.
***
The house of Absolom was a big quiet place, a little above the town. The gates were open. As James was quick to point out, they always were.
Inside the house there were servants moving about and by the time they reached the front door there was a tall, slender woman waiting. She was calm and the lights glinted off her dark skin. “What can I do for you, gentlemen? The master is indisposed.”
“This man is a highly skilled doctor. He would like to see your master to perhaps help in his treatment. I also would like to see your master for another reason.
The woman turned and waved them in, calling orders to those inside. As they walked she said “I am Naomi and I run the house.” The words were simply said, but they made it clear that she was in charge.”
The doctor was taken to a room to the rear of the house. Naomi steered Martin and the boy, James, into a room off to the right which was obviously a reception room for visitors.
She clapped her hands and a servant appeared, “Can I offer you tea, gentlemen?”
As Martin accepted he began to realise that the smooth formality of his reception, and the attitude of the staff was a reflection of the normal running of affairs in this house, and due to Naomi, he presumed.
He turned to Peters, the Bo’sun, who had been just behind him all the way, “Send a message to Mr. Harris on Hera. Ask him to patrol to the south-west. Look out for the return of the Huron and the Abigail possibly with some prizes.
They were seated having tea, the marines at the gate to stop any interference. Martin was wondering at the strange situation when Doctor Mills returned. “Sir, I think you should come and see Absolom now!”
Martin rose to his feet. Naomi also rose and led Martin through to a bedroom at the rear.
There was a big bed with four posts supporting fine muslin curtains, presumably to keep off the mosquitoes clustered around the wall lamps. The man propped up on the pillows was dark-skinne
d from his North African background, but there was a pallor like a shadow, under the gleam of sweat on his skin.
“Commodore, I am sorry to meet you under these circumstances. But then, I suppose in others there would be bullets or blades to interfere.”
He stirred, and Naomi was there beside him with a cloth, wiping his brow. “Thank you, my dear, though I am not really worth the trouble.” He looked at Martin once more. “I fear my former friend, Roger Newton, has finally succumbed to the effects of untreated syphilis. His rage as he left here was…” He hesitated, thinking. “Unbridled is the word. Had he simmered down before leaping into action, I would not be lying here facing my last moments. Instead I now realise I would be standing, sword in hand, back to back, fighting for my life. The expedition to Campeche has long been an ambition for Roger. He struck me in passing and ruptured my spleen, according to your excellent doctor. Sadly he arrived too late to do something about it. For me perhaps, happily. I really hated the thought of the noose.” He stopped again, took a sip from a glass and continued. “Roger Newton was a good friend to me, I was aware of course of his faults, overextending his debts and killing too many innocent people as a result. To me, until recently, he was my best friend. If he finds out that I have died because of the way he left this house, he will be devastated.”
Martin asked Doctor Mills, “Is there anything that can be done?”
Roger Mills shook his head. “If there was a way to pour blood into him to replace the blood he has lost, perhaps. I know of none.”
Absolom smiled grimly. “As I said, Commodore. If nothing else, I have eluded the noose.”
As the visitors turned to go Absolom beckoned Martin to his side. “A private word, if you please, sir.”
Martin waved the others away. “Well?”