Chapter 5: The Eagle Stoops
They steered a course that would take them East towards Santo Domingo. He planned to go East past the island, swing between it and Puerto Rico, then up to Barbados. He figured any French merchants would follow that course to pick up the Westerly trade to get back to Europe. He had James sail the Eagle out almost to the horizon so they could keep watch over a wide breadth of ocean between them.
They needed to sail to just East of the gap to give them the angle to make a long tack Northwest and take them between the islands due to the North-easterly trade wind. At least its consistent, Marty thought.
They hadn’t seen any shipping except small coastal craft and fishing boats. As they were still allies with the Spanish, they left them alone. Once they got into the passage, they found that there was a current running through it from the Northeast with the wind, making them sail the Tempest as close to the wind as she could to make headway. It was a long, hard slog with constant trimming of the sails. The Eagle had a slightly better time of it as she could sail closer to the wind with her clipper rig.
Once through, they spread out again and headed towards Barbados, staying on the Atlantic side of the Turks and Caicos Islands. There was a whole line of Cays and Islands running up to the Northwest, and Marty had to resist the temptation to stop off at every one to explore. Some were uninhabited, but many showed signs that people had made them home.
It was late spring, and the weather was fine. There were high, puffy clouds that seemed to take on familiar shapes and Marty and Tom amused themselves by pointing out horses, dogs, and even a cloud that had Hood’s profile.
It took Marty a moment or two to notice that Tom had stopped making any suggestions and when he looked at him, he noticed that despite his tan, he looked pale and had a vacant look on his face.
“Are you alright, Tom?” he asked concerned.
“What?” Tom replied and looked at Marty with a confused look on his face. “I don’t know. I feel sort of queer.” He looked around at the ship then up at the sky and with a groan, collapsed to the deck.
Shelby was on deck and rushed over to see what happened. He pulled Marty away from Tom as he automatically knelt to see what was wrong. The physician felt the big man’s forehead, checked his pulse, pried open his eyes, and smelled his breath.
“I want a cot placed on the foredeck immediately. He needs to be kept in the fresh air. No one but me or my assistant can attend him until I establish what the problem is,” Shelby ordered.
Marty didn’t waste time as he called for the carpenter and Paul la Pierre.
“Tom has collapsed and is ill. Shelby wants him in the fresh air, so I want a cot built and placed near the manger,” he told the carpenter. “Set a guard,” he told Paul, “Until Shelby figures out what is wrong with him, let’s not take any chances and keep him isolated. If anyone else shows signs of illness, I want them isolated with him as well.”
Oh God, let it not be the black vomit, Marty prayed silently.
The rest of the day passed with Shelby in almost constant attendance of the stricken man. A second crew man went sick and joined them in the evening, another the next morning, and a third by the afternoon. Shelby was tireless and hardly left the men’s sides. His assistant, who was one of the Snipes that had worked as an apothecary before he was pressed, was kept busy running backwards and forwards to Shelby’s cabin to retrieve drugs.
Marty was on deck with Richard Holmes, who was acting first mate now that Tom was unavailable, when the lookout shouted down.
“Eagle has fired a gun and is signalling!”
Marty grabbed a glass and ran up the rat lines until he could see their flags clearly. “Enemy in Sight.”
“Steer for the Eagle, three points to Larboard!” he shouted down to the deck. “Make more sail!”
The Eagle was to the West of them, so the Tempest had the prevailing Northeast wind on her stern, which gave them the wind gauge on both the Eagle and her prey.
They were closing fast, and Marty called the ship to be cleared for action. He also ordered double anti-boarding nets slung over the area of deck where the sick men were quarantined.
He could now see the other ships clearly from the deck and that the Eagle was engaging an armed merchantman.
“Run up the colours!”
The black flag with its knife impaled skull over crossed pistols unfurled on the mainmast. Marty saw his three Basque followers take position at the bow and on either beam ready to give the war cry. There was a tap on his shoulder, and he turned to find Samuel holding his weapons harness out for him to put on. He helped Marty into it and took up position behind his left shoulder where Tom normally stood.
The Eagle moved in. Marty saw the grapnels flying across and a moment later, he heard the rip of the swivels. The two ships were locked together, and suddenly, men were swarming across. By the time the Tempest hove to, it was all over.
Marty got his gig brought up and went over to the Eagle. James was looking pleased with himself and met him at the entry port. He saw the worry etched on Marty’s face and immediately asked what was wrong. When he heard that Tom was ill, he understood Marty’s anxiety. However, he had just taken a fully laden French ship, so he was understandably pleased with himself and his crew.
Marty and James interviewed the captain of the merchantman and examined his papers. He was confused at being questioned by two men who spoke perfect French, one with a Parisian accent and the other from Bordeaux. That played into their hands as he was much more forthcoming than if they were obviously English. He did ask why they were attacking French ships. Marty just laughed and said they were no friends of the revolution or Napoleon. It wouldn’t hurt to spread a little confusion.
The ship had come from Guadeloupe, and Marty asked if there were any places he knew of where the privateers gathered. The captain scoffed and said Martinique but they wouldn’t be welcome there as they were all privateers under letters of marque from the French government and not pirates like them.
Marty offered him the option for he and his crew to be put into their largest boat with provisions and allowed to sail away or to be dropped off on Puerto Rico. The captain chose the latter.
Marty took James to one side and said,
“I want you to take the crew back to Puerto Rico and drop them off at San Juan. Then, take a run down to Martinique and have a look in the ports and see what you can find. I will take the prize to the Bahamas and sell it in Freeport then run back down and rendezvous with you at St. John’s.”
Chapter 6: A Scouting Mission
James calculated that he had to sail fifteen hundred miles to get to Martinique from their present position, but he had the ship to do it and a crew that was well satisfied that they were making money. There was also a good chance they would come across another ship to take, whether it was French or American.
They parted company with the Tempest, and he suddenly realised he was on his own. For the first time, he was trusted to operate independently. After a moment of panic, he was overcome with a sense of freedom overlaid with a tremendous sense of responsibility. Marty was placing his trust in him and he was determined not to let him down. The episode with the barges was still fresh in his mind and he still felt partly responsible for the failure of that mission.
James was a year younger than Marty and had Marty known how much James looked up to him and admired him, he would have been embarrassed. James recognised the natural leadership qualities Marty wielded without thinking and did his best to emulate him. He didn’t have the ruthlessness that set Marty apart, but he was focused, determined, and had an innate sense of fairness that the men liked.
Marty also gave him Wilson as first mate. The big man stood at six feet eight tall and weighed in at a modest twenty stones of pure muscle and was guaranteed to change anybody’s mind about challenging their authority. James heard that a young Marty impressed Wilson to the point where he became one of his followers. He understood that it involve
d Marty’s weapons prowess, but he never had the nerve to ask Wilson outright.
They sailed East of Southeast at a steady ten knots, so it should take them around six and a half days to reach their destination- plenty of time to find another victim.
The ocean was empty of anything worth chasing as they passed Santa Dominique at the end of the first day, but the next morning they saw a pair of ships heading towards them.
“Run up an American flag,” James told Wilson. “Let’s see if that tempts them to get close to us.”
Wilson looked slightly bemused, so James explained,
“The Americans are friends with the French, or at least not actively aggressive towards them, same with the Spanish. So, an American flag is the least threatening one of all.”
“They look to be Spanish!” called down the lookout.
“Probably out of Puerto Rico,” Wilson offered.
“Harris! You have the sharpest eyes. Get yourself up with the lookout and tell me what you see,” James ordered a passing crewman.
“Are we still at peace with the Spanish?” Wilson asked.
“I don’t know but we will ask before we attack them,” James grinned at him.
The ships continued on their course, so James adjusted his to intercept. He kept the crew out of sight but sent them to quarters in preparation. The Spanish ships showed no intention of slowing, so he decided to do bit of fancy sailing, wear around behind them, and sail up alongside of the lead ship.
The merchantmen watched as the Eagle swept around in a broad ark, her sail handling immaculate. She soon caught them up and adjusted her speed to match the lead ship a half-pistol shot off her starboard side.
“What news?” Marty got a Spanish speaking crewmember to call across.
“The British attacked our treasure ships and we are back at war with them,” the Spanish captain replied.
“When did that happen?” James prompted the man to ask.
“Four months ago, We just found out before we sailed. They warned us to avoid British ships at all costs,” was the reply.
“Run up the colours!” James called and then, “Run out the guns!”
The impaled skull and cross pistols flag soared up the lanyard as the American flag fell to the deck, and the men stood with a roar.
“Strike or we will blow you to hell!” James had his man call across then ordered a shot through their mainsail.
The Spanish flag tumbled down, and they let the wind out of their sails to drift to a halt. James backed his foresails to heave to and sent two boatloads of men over with Wilson in charge. As soon as they boarded, he set off in pursuit of the second ship that was heading towards San Dominique as fast as they could. They were no match for the Eagle that caught them up in a little over an hour, and they too struck without a fight.
‘Three prizes in three days!’ James exulted as they steered back towards the other ship, which Wilson had turned around and headed toward Antigua. They eventually formed up in convoy and James decided to call in at St. John’s to leave the prizes there. In the meantime, he had two Spanish crews and the French, that Marty had lumbered him with, to get rid of and as they were passing Puerto Rico, he had them put into ships boats with a minimum of stores and let them sail for port.
The sailed into St. John’s like ducks in a row and got the merchantmen moored far enough into Deepwater Harbour to be safe from any attempt by the Spanish to take them back but not so far in that they would tempt a local into getting too inquisitive. He also left a strong harbour crew on each of them to keep them secure until they returned. The last thing he did was to send a message to the port authority that Britain and Spain were at war again.
They put the American flag back up for the short journey to Martinique and the scouting part of their mission. The most obvious place to look was into Porte Royale and Baie de Fort-de-France, which was a large West-facing inlet with the port and town on the North side. It was naturally sheltered from the trades and any bad weather that came in off the Atlantic. It was also dead-easy to get out of as the wind was consistently from offshore.
They came down the West coast of the island and worked their way around the corner into the bay. The current was against them and made it tricky. James had one of the marines who was an artist, a man called David Jones, sketching the shoreline as they slowly made their way in. There was an ominous-looking fort and a couple of batteries defending the entrance. More importantly, there was a number of schooners, brigantines, and brigs flying French flags or no colours at all as well as a few French Navy ships.
They dropped the anchor and made it look as if they were preparing the ship for a proper stop over. Covertly, James had men counting ships, counting the guns mapping the bay, taking bearings, and generally gathering as much information as they could.
They were there a couple of hours when a boat that was very similar to the Eagle set off from a clipper and headed towards them. The other ship was flying no colours and as they had not seen any American flags since they had arrived. They had taken theirs down as well.
A man stood in the stern of the boat and was waving his hat at them as he approached. ‘What does he want?’ James thought then had a sudden suspicion.
“Get the men armed, quietly,” he ordered Wilson and ran down to his cabin for his sword and pistols. He got back in time to see the boat approaching to within twenty feet of the entry port.
“Ahoy there Kelly, you pirate!” The man called as the boat swung around to hook onto their chains. “Prepare to be boarded!” He laughed as he jumped onto the batons and climbed up the side. As his head appeared above the deck, his eyes went wide as he realized the crew and skipper weren’t who he was expecting to see.
“Who the hell??” he started to say and saw James pulling a pistol. He dropped back into the boat and James heard him yelling to his men to “row like the devil!”
“Up anchor! Make sail!” James called as the rowboat sped away from them at an impressive rate and he could hear the man yelling about thieves, spies, and traitors.
Chapter 7: Crisis
Marty watched the Eagle make sail then turned back to getting the Tempest underway with their prize in close attendance. He had a passing thought that it would be nice if they could entice another privateer to come and try to take the prize. But lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same place, he thought with a smile.
He knew he needed to get them into port by November when the Hurricane season started. His plan was to hole up in St. John’s until it passed then to make a foray down to the French Islands to try and identify bases if James hadn’t already found one.
He watched Shelby walk up from the quarantine area, a frown on his face.
“What news?” Marty asked.
“Tom and the rest have Yellow Jack. It’s in the early stages and they have fever, headache, loss of appetite, vomiting, chills, and back pain. If they are lucky, it will pass in another three days, at most. If they aren’t and they get the fevers, the black vomit, and they go yellow, then the chances are, they will be dead in a week or so.”
“Is there any treatment?” Marty asked.
“None that I have been able to discover. We are making them comfortable and making sure they get plenty of water. That is all we can do.”
“Can I see them?” Marty all but pleaded.
“Yes, but do not touch them or breath their breath,” Shelby instructed.
Marty walked with him and stooped under the rope that was tied around the quarantine area as a fence. He was aware of the men watching him and knelt by the first man, speaking to him quietly. He moved to the next, spoke to him and helped him drink some water. The man struggled to sit and in spite of Shelby’s warning, Marty helped him. They talked for a minute or two and the man smiled as Marty stood to step over to Tom.
Tom was gaunt, his big frame shrunken. It was shocking how fast he had lost weight.
“Hello, Skipper,” Tom smiled. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“
What, and miss the only chance I will ever have to say I’m stronger than you?” Marty joked.
“We took a prize?” Tom asked.
“A nice, fat French merchant full of sugar and molasses that will bring a few thousand once we sell it.” Marty smiled.
“Who has your back?” Tom asked.
“Samuel has taken on that role until you are back on your feet,” Marty told him.
“He’s a good lad,” Tom said and closed his eyes.
Marty just knelt beside him for several minutes, quietly praying that the man he had come to look upon as his father wouldn’t leave him like his real one had.
A hail from the mainmast roused him, and he left the men to see what was up. Holmes, the acting first mate, met him on the quarter deck and told him a sail was sighted catching them up from behind. Marty grabbed a telescope and climbed up to perch beside the lookout, who it turned out, was Garai.
Marty looked in the direction Garai pointed and couldn’t see anything, so he raised the telescope and looked again.
“Damn, you have good eyes!” he exclaimed as he picked out the speck of sail just above the horizon.
“How is Tom?” Garai asked as Marty continued to peer at the sail.
Marty took the telescope from his eye and gazed at the horizon.
“Very sick, Shelby says the crisis point will be in the next two days. They will either recover or go into the second phase, which kills most people.”
“I have prayed for him,” Garai replied, “we all have.”
Marty raised the telescope to his eye again.
“She is Spanish,” Garai stated after looking hard.
“Damned if I don’t agree!” Marty said. “Why is he in such a hurry?”
Marty slid down a stay to the deck, ordered fresh lookouts posted, and got them to take telescopes with them.
Holmes met him at the bottom looking for news. Marty told him what they had seen. A Spanish frigate under full sail heading straight for them.
The Tempest: The Dorset Boy Book 5 Page 5