John’s next problem was an old one: crew. He had two ships and only nineteen men.
Not enough to fight one of them.
His men wondered why they needed two ships; John didn’t enlighten them. As they sat on board the ketch one evening, John asked anybody who would listen who treated their slaves the worst. The general consensus was the Dutch followed by the Spanish.
‘Then let’s find ourselves a Dutch island full of unhappy slaves.’ He grinned.
Finally, after almost two weeks’ work, the brig was good enough for their purpose, whatever that was.
Flying the Dutch flag, the ketch anchored off a Dutch island, close to the Spanish South American coast. This was the colony the Delft had sailed for all that time ago.
The settlement was, in fact, quite small. John wondered what had happened to all those fine folk who had sailed off and left them in the English Channel.
The slave population was also small and kept in conclaves close to the plantation houses; not what he was looking for.
John sailed almost due north, once again for Jamaica.
As day followed day the amount of warships they sighted increased and the idea of going to Jamaica was again abandoned.
They met with the brig and anchored once more in the north bay, Farmer’s Island.
Now the crew started asking questions. Why not lift the gold, abandon the ketch and go somewhere safe? They had money to burn; why keep taking such risks?
In the end Carter told them to go dig up the gold and the crew rushed ashore.
After gathering up shovels they ran through the woods like children on a picnic and came to a horrified stop when they saw the hole in the bank where the treasure had been.
Three graves were nearby.
The first to comment was a red-haired Irishman with a battered face. Looking round at his shipmates, he screamed, ‘Who has done this?’
Standing to one side, John Carter said, ‘Who do you think? Who showed them where the brig was? Your ex-shipmates, that’s who.’
The men stood round in shocked silence.
‘Back to the ship,’ John ordered. ‘Let’s be about our business.’
As they worked their way from island to island Carter found another eleven crew, mostly drunks and criminals, bringing his total up to thirty men. Not all were seamen, but all were hard men.
Anchored in a bay to the west of a low island north of Antigua, John called his crew together. ‘The plan,’ he said, ‘is simple. Because of the war there are not many ships moving around the islands, so we take the towns.’
‘How do we avoid being blown to hell by the garrison guns?’ a small man with a blue scarf round his neck asked.
‘How many men do you need to sail the brig and fire one gun,’ John demanded, ‘on a broad reach without tacking?’
The man considered; finally, he answered, ‘Six maybe seven.’
‘So we put all the other men in the ketch and you chase us into the harbour. Once we are past the guns you bear away and get out of range.’
‘How do we get out again?’ the same man asked.
‘We take the place,’ John replied, ‘and come out when we’re ready.’
‘You have a place in mind,’ the man stated.
‘Yes, I do.’ John smiled.
The Dutch island to the northwest of Antigua was small and high with a stone jetty on the eastern side that provided safe berthing for the many merchantmen that regularly came there. In spite of its size the island had become a major trading post in the area.
A small wooden fort with two bronze cannon guarded the approach to the jetty.
The island was getting ready to celebrate Christmas, with most of the inhabitants looking forward to a few days’ relaxation. It was not totally a religious celebration as most of the islanders were of Jewish extraction.
As dusk approached cannon fire was heard in the distance. Everybody looked down into the bay to see a ketch under full sail, heading for the jetty. Not far behind her a brig was in pursuit. As they watched, the brig fired again, at her masthead the dreaded black flag.
Now the eight-man garrison in the fort fired one of their cannon and then the second; some people cheered as the brig bore away.
The little ketch bumped alongside the jetty, her crew stowing her sails. She was soon made fast. The soldiers were walking towards her when out of her hold came a crowd of savage-looking men all armed to the teeth.
The pirate crew took out their anger and disappointment over the gold’s loss on, first, the garrison and then the general population.
A few brave souls tried to defend the top of the steps leading up to the village but were soon cut down. As people ran in all directions John led his men through the village slaughtering any who stood in his path.
By the time it was fully dark all resistance had ceased. Some of the villagers had fled further into the island; hunting them would be sport for tomorrow.
The night was spent in rape and murder. They would search for gold in the morning. Carter herded two young men into the woods and people listened to their screams for most of the night.
For the next three days the pirates went about their business heaping valuables in the road outside people’s doors and later transporting all down to the ship. The nights were spent in drunken revelling.
On the fourth day John Carter anchored the brig in the bay, leaving one side of the jetty clear. He was rewarded a day later when a schooner, loaded with rum, came alongside.
The pirates simply walked on board and claimed it.
This was another rich prize and for the pirates who had been living in tents beside a swamp, a spell of luxury they all thought they deserved.
John Carter, however, was well aware that every day that passed brought the possibility of a warship visiting the island closer.
On the sixth day he called a halt; time to hide again. Once the brig was loaded with the pirate spoils, as well as rum and provisions, he sent it away to Farmer’s Island with the crew given instructions to hide her as before in the south bay.
Carter himself, with six men, would once again visit Antigua in the ketch. When asked why, he replied, because it was close. In fact, his reasons were a need to take risks and a desire to learn what the navy was planning. He also had quite a lot of silver and gold ware to trade with Ben.
This time he would dress as a priest in a robe with a deep hood, taken from the island.
As always he entered the town creek at dusk. This time, however, he tacked in the entrance and sailed back out and into a small bay just to the south of the main creek.
On the town quay was laid a sloop of war.
The next morning Carter sat on a grass bank, wrapped up in his robe, watching the comings and goings from the sloop.
A local told him there was to be a ceremony up at the newly rebuilt church, something about a dead captain.
That evening Ben arrived. He expressed amazement at the risks John was taking but was pleased with the goods John had to sell.
‘Find out what’s happening at the church,’ Carter told him. Late that night he learned that some captain had been killed in a battle with the Spanish and that a memorial service would be held the following day. ‘I’ll attend,’ John laughed. ‘It might be some sport.’
As a man of the cloth he was allowed into the churchyard. There on a raised platform was an oak coffin. As Carter watched, naval officers moved to the back of the coffin, a priest stood in front and called all to pray. John’s eyes, however, were glued to a young lieutenant who stood to one side. The rage roared in his head; it was all he could do to stop himself leaping onto the stage. The lieutenant was the blond boy he had cut, the boy he had sworn to finish.
Carter heard nothing of the ceremony, as the priest read his text and the officers said nice things about Captain Peterson. All John could see was the boy’s face. The hatred burned across his chest like a hot iron. The faces of the men in London kept blurring into the face of the young lieutenant.
An hour later Carter entered the tavern bar; the room was empty apart from Ben who sat at one corner table. ‘It’s him,’ Carter yelled. ‘That little bastard is here.’
Ben tried to calm him. ‘What matter one lieutenant?’ He said. ‘Who cares?’
‘It’s him,’ Carter screamed again. ‘He did it all.’ The pirate began striding around the room getting more and more excited.
Ben stood and walked towards him. ‘Calm down, John,’ he said, putting out his hand. John span round and lurched towards him; the look on his face made Ben gasp. Madness flashed in his eyes, foam flecked the corners of his mouth.
‘It’s him,’ he screamed once again and ran out of the door.
Bill the landlord came in from behind the bar. ‘What’s happening?’ he demanded.
Ben was badly shaken. He looked at his friend. ‘If you have a pistol behind your bar,’ he said, ‘I’d see to the priming and keep it close.’
All that night John Carter lay in the woods overlooking the town jetty. He waited for the lieutenant to come ashore from the sloop but nobody stirred; the only movement was the watch on deck.
As the new day began, the sloop’s crew started working. People came and went but still no sign of the blond lieutenant. Finally, John pulled his hood up over his head and walked back to the ketch, the rage back where it lived.
Late that night as Bill was thinking of closing the tavern, John Carter walked in and leaned over the bar.
‘Find out about that lieutenant,’ he said. ‘You know which one.’
Fear gripped the landlord as he looked into John’s eyes. He knew who Carter was now. When the pirates had been arrested, the soldiers had asked everybody if they had seen a tall young man with very black hair. The mass murderer called John Carter.
Bill stared into Carter’s eyes, mesmerized like a mouse trapped by a snake.
‘There were some seamen in tonight,’ he whispered. ‘They talked of a young lieutenant given command of a schooner. They said all you had to do to get a command in the navy was get yourself cut by a pirate.’
‘Where is this schooner?’ John asked. His voice was low and calm.
Eager to please, Bill told him of a secret wage shipment to be taken to New York to pay the garrison there. It would be loaded into the boy’s schooner in the dockyard.
Carter watched him in silence for a few moments. ‘Not much of a secret,’ he said. ‘How would foc’sle hands know all this and why use a puny little schooner?’
‘They were master’s mates,’ the landlord muttered. ‘The navy can’t spare any bigger ships because of the French.’
‘So when is this shipment to be made?’ John asked.
‘Sometime next month,’ was the reply.
The two men sat on the deck of Ben’s schooner and watched the sloop sail out of the bay.
‘Did you see him?’ Ben asked.
‘No,’ was the short reply.
‘Maybe he went by coach or horse.’
‘No.’ John stood up. ‘I’ve had men watching the road. He’s on the sloop.’
Ben lowered his voice. ‘Look, John, why not let it go? He’s just some little prick of a lieutenant; this sounds like a trap to me.’
Carter turned and looked at him, the flash in his eyes warning Ben not to say more.
‘Of course it’s a trap,’ he hissed. ‘They think they can take me with this pathetic little plan.
Well, I’ll spring their trap, take their gold and cut that boy into small pieces. I’ll decorate that schooner with his insides.’
CHAPTER 10
‘The ceremony will be in St. John’s in five days’ time.’
Pierce had been rowed off to the schooner and now sat in the tiny aft cabin. David Fletcher, acting Lieutenant Peterson and Sergeant Chaney, plus a master’s mate from the Trojan, stood huddled round him. Their heads were bent under the deck beams.
‘The gold exists,’ Pierce continued. ‘It will arrive before the end of the month on board the frigate Mercury. The men here will be paid.
Everybody on the island will know the men have been paid. A strong box will then be transferred on board your schooner; it will contain nothing but stones. The Mercury will then continue on to New York. She will, however, delay long enough to give you support.’
Flag Lieutenant Pierce looked at the men around him.
‘This is not a simple task,’ he said. ‘We must convince everybody on the island you are carrying the gold without being totally obvious.
The transfer will take place in Falmouth Harbour. You will then return to the dockyard with a damaged rudder.
‘That should give this pirate time to get in position before you sail.
‘Mr. Tailor,’ he pointed to the master’s mate, ‘knows the exact rendezvous points with the Trojan; her new duties require her to patrol from here to the Spanish islands northwest of us. If you sight this pirate, you will lead him to the Trojan’s position.
Is that clear, gentlemen? You will not engage this madman unsupported.’
The assembled men nodded their agreement.
As they watched Pierce being rowed ashore, Sergeant Chaney asked, ‘Do you think this will work, sir?’
David shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t see why not. If Carter is still here, if he finds us and if we can find the Trojan, it should work well.’
‘Sounds like a lot of ifs.’ The marine grinned.
When the Trojan returned to the dockyard after the ceremony, David was rowed ashore. He walked into the laundry and found the old man he had spoken to before.
‘I want to meet Elle’s mother again,’ he said, ‘or even better her father.’
‘Her father’s dead and you are not the most popular person in that house, Lieutenant,’ the man replied.
David’s already low confidence sank. ‘Her father’s dead,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know.’
‘There’s a lot you don’t know.’ The man spoke in a suddenly strong voice.
‘So tell me,’ David shouted back. There was silence in the always noisy laundry.
‘Come outside,’ the man said and led the way. They were hardly out the door when the man began. ‘You come here with your pretty white looks and just take what you want. You don’t think about nothing but your cock.’
‘That’s not true,’ David came back. ‘I love Elle.’
He stopped. Did he mean what had just come out of his mouth?
‘Love,’ the man sneered. ‘What do you know about love, white boy? You just guilty now you’ve had your fun and you think you come round here with a little money and everybody going to think you a good man.’
David was shocked into silence. Is that true? He wondered. Was that what he was doing?
‘How old are you, Lieutenant?’ the old man asked.
Suddenly defensive, David said, ‘Almost twenty-one.’
‘Elle’s sixteen and you going off to get killed. What good’s that to Elle’s child?’ The man walked back into the laundry.
David stood and stared at the closed laundry door.
The man’s words had hit him hard. Was he right? Was he just appeasing his conscience?
He turned and walked to the water’s edge feeling very young and alone.
A boatman called out, ‘The Dancer, is it, sir?’
‘No, thank you, no,’ David replied. ‘I’ll walk a while.’
As he walked toward Falmouth Harbour, David tried to come to grips with his feelings for Elle. He didn’t know the girl; she had not even told him her second name. He loved her body, that was sure, but could he ever have lived with her here on this island?
Sitting beside the road Lieutenant Fletcher looked out across the bay. The only ship at anchor was a supply ship from England. Watching her swing to her anchor, David felt homesick for the first time in years.
Standing up, David came to a decision. Since being in the navy he had drawn very little of his pay, some he had given to his mother when he visited home and a little to Elle.
/> Now he would present all he had to Elle. On this island it would be a considerable sum and let that be an end to it.
He walked back towards the dockyard and had just passed the junction where the road branched off to the far side of the creek when a coach pulled up beside him.
‘I wondered when we would meet again, Lieutenant,’ Lady Margret called down to him.
David hardened his jaw and climbed up into the coach. ‘Alright, woman,’ he breathed. ‘Let’s see how much you really like it.’
When he climbed down again, over an hour later, Lady Margret was calling him darling and demanding a further rendezvous. He had managed to work off his morbid feelings and improved his outlook on the world. All at the cost of the buttons on his new shirt and some deep scratches down his back.
On arriving back at the dockyard, he found a marine looking for him. ‘The admiral is in the flag lieutenant’s office and would like to see you, sir,’ he said.
David pulled his clothes together as much as he could and knocked on the office door.
As he walked in Admiral Keyton said, ‘Mr. Fletcher, I have a small task for you. The
Mercury won’t be here for another two or three weeks so you have time to take your schooner to Jamaica. There you will collect three army officers and transport them to St. Kitts. I understand the ceremony went well.’ He moved closer. ‘Is that your new uniform, Lieutenant?’
‘Yes, sir,’ David admitted.
‘Ye gods, man, look at the state of it and you smell like you’ve been rutting all night. Pull yourself together, man. Pierce, stop the price of that uniform from Mr. Fletcher’s pay.’
So saying the admiral walked out of the office.
As he stood naked beside the schooner’s main mast a seaman tipped a bucket of fresh water over David’s head. He had first scrubbed himself with seawater and now shaking the water from his eyes David started drying himself with a cotton sheet.
Sergeant Chaney, who sat on the rail watching, asked, ‘Did you get in a fight with a cat, sir?’
‘Stop looking at my arse, Sergeant,’ David replied.
Ignoring the comment, Chaney continued. ‘You know, sir, there are terrible diseases you can catch from old ladies in coaches.’
By the Knife Page 13