Lieutenant Fletcher stood in front of the flag lieutenant’s desk. He stood to attention, not that he had been told to, but it seemed the right thing to do.
‘Let me understand you, Mr. Fletcher. You decided, in spite of your orders, to visit this Farmer’s Island and search for gold and in so doing lost an officer of His Majesty’s army in a most terrible way.’ Pierce stood and walked round his desk. ‘The admiral is indisposed, but when he hears of this it will go hard with you.’
‘I take full responsibility, sir.’ David straightened his back. ‘But we proved the pirate is still here and presumably the gold.’
‘How can you be sure?’ Pierce demanded.
‘If you had seen the body, sir, you would know. Nobody else would treat a human being in such a manner. Look, sir,’ he continued, ‘I was wrong. I let myself be goaded into doing a stupid thing, but the pirate Carter is still here.’
‘So tell me, Lieutenant, if this pirate is so mad keen to kill you, why are you standing here?
Why did he not kill you instead of Clark?’
David looked him in the eye. ‘I have no idea, sir,’ was all he could say.
‘Look, David.’ Pierce sat down again. ‘I know this business is close to your heart and that a large responsibility has been placed upon you, but do you not think it is time to move on? Perhaps we should tell the admiral that this plan has failed.’
‘No, sir.’ David’s jaw was set firm. ‘I do not.’
The flag lieutenant looked at him in silence for a few moments. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘We will await the admiral’s good health and seek his opinion.’
‘I have a letter from Major Darcy, sir.’ David put a folded paper on the desk.
Pierce opened it and read in silence. ‘Do you know what this letter contains?’ he asked.
‘No, sir,’ David replied.
‘Major Darcy wishes to state that he and he alone is responsible for the happenings on Farmer’s Island; he writes that you were against the venture from the beginning. Do you think this is correct?’
‘No, sir, of course it’s not.’
‘You were in command of the Dancer and none other. However, we will pass the letter on to the admiral. Now go back to your ship and await my summons.’
Admiral Keyton was suffering from an ailment of the stomach and it was two days before David was called back to the shipyard office.
To his surprise Keyton dismissed David’s actions with a flick of his hand. ‘So,’ he said. ‘We believe this madman is still here, so let’s be about it and recover the gold.’
As David left the office, Pierce walked with him and once out of view smiled at David’s relieved expression. ‘It seems gold is still in fashion, Mr. Fletcher,’ he said. ‘He’s even given you ten more marines.’
As he sat waiting for the schooner’s boat, David thought of poor Clark; he also had thought about nothing but gold.
Back on board everybody perked up at hearing that they were not under a cloud and began talking of how they would show this bloody pirate when they got hold of him.
That afternoon David was called on board the Mercury.
As he was shown into the Mercury’s aft cabin, David stopped short in surprise. Her captain grinned at him from behind a beautiful carved desk.
‘Hello, David,’ he said. ‘I told you that the next time we met we would both be captains.’
Phelps stood and walked round his desk. ‘Are you still using that old sword I gave you?’
David took the hand of his friend of so long ago and shook it warmly. He looked much the same; a few more lines on his face and a scar running from his hairline down his left cheek. On his shoulders were the two epaulettes of a post captain.
‘It’s really good to see you again, sir.’ David grinned.
‘As I’m sure you remember, David, my name is Michael,’ Phelps told him. ‘Now sit down and tell me about this pirate. I understand you have been quite close to him.’
‘Too close,’ David replied and told the story from beginning to end; he had to finish as always by showing his scars.
‘I think this scum needs to be shown who commands the seaways,’ Phelps muttered. ‘Right now tell me the plan.’
It was dark by the time David climbed back into his skiff; he tried to look sober as he boarded the Dancer, but they had drunk too much brandy to make that easy.
Peterson asked if all was well and David, with a big grin, told him everything was wonderful and staggered off to his cabin.
The next morning David’s head was not so clear. As he came on deck Chaney asked him if he was unwell.
‘Do you know who is captain of the Mercury?’ David asked him.
‘Yes, sir,’ the marine replied. ‘Mr. Phelps.’
‘Did everybody except me know that?’ David demanded.
‘Probably, sir.’ Chaney grinned.
That morning, in full view of the people on the shore, six marines carried a large strong box down into the Mercury’s longboat and were rowed across to the Dancer. Taking their time, the crew hauled the heavy box onto the deck and then lowered it into the hold.
Three hours later the Dancer got underway. She sailed very close to the shallow ground as she left the bay and then tacked about and returned. Word was put out that she had touched the ground and damaged her rudder.
For two days men from the dockyard worked around her stern. ‘That should give the damned pirate enough time to get into position,’ Phelps told his first officer. ‘Now let’s get underway and trap the bastard.’
David watched the frigate move past his stern. He turned to Peterson and said, ‘God, I love frigates. Is she not beautiful?’
‘That she is, sir,’ Peterson replied. ‘When do we leave?’
‘I’ll give Phelps a day to get into position and then we will go,’ David assured him.
That afternoon David walked over to the dockyard; there was one more thing that kept nagging at his mind. As he entered the laundry he saw the old man loading clean shirts onto a table.
‘Can I speak to you?’ he asked.
The man looked at him and threw down the load of shirts he was carrying. ‘Outside,’ he said.
Once they were alone he turned and faced David.
‘Well, what do you want?’
‘I want to know how Elle is,’ David told him.
‘Better off without you,’ the man spat at him. When David said nothing he continued. ‘Look, she’s going to marry a nice black boy so just leave her alone.’
As the man turned back to the laundry David called, ‘I’ll send her the money.’
The man stopped. ‘And let everybody know you made her your whore?’ he said. ‘Just go away.’
As he walked back to the harbour, David felt like crying for the first time in years. He wasn’t sure if he was sorry Elle was marrying another man or glad for her. It would have been impossible to take her home, he knew that, but he thought he loved her.
Back in his cabin he poured himself a glass of brandy; it was the first time he had ever drunk alone and he felt very alone.
The next morning the Dancer sailed out of Falmouth Harbour. She stood clear of the land until she could tack and clear the north end of the island. Once clear of the shallows to the north she would turn onto the wind, as if voyaging to Canada.
‘You have the rendezvous with both the Mercury and the Trojan?’ David had asked of Tailor the master’s mate.
‘I have, sir,’ the man had replied.
‘I’m sure we will see nothing until we reach the islands to the northwest,’ David told him. ‘That’s where the pirate will hide.’
As time wore on David seemed to be correct; the breeze held strong and the sun shone, not a vessel of any kind was seen.
After rounding the northern end of a set of islands, David turned more to the west. That evening a sail was seen to the south moving to cross their path. They lost the ship in the gloom as night fell.
‘She was a ketch,’ Peterson said,
‘not a brig.’
‘All the same,’ David told him. ‘We beat to quarters and tonight we sleep at our stations.’ As the moon came up nothing was seen on the horizon. The night was clear, the sea slight and the gentle breeze steady.
Long before the sun came up the following morning David was on deck; something told him this would be the day. However, with full daylight all that could be seen was a tall island off the larboard bow, about sixteen miles away.
‘Let the men eat,’ he told Peterson.
Pitt was once again at the masthead and just before noon he reported a sail ahead of them.
‘It’s that ketch again,’ he called down.
They were now sailing parallel with the island they had sighted earlier. A reef extended north, forcing them to move off shore to pass through a gap. The reef continued to a large area of shallow ground. To larboard, back towards the main island, a smaller island showed ahead of them.
‘We are gaining on the ketch, sir,’ Tailor called.
‘Let’s take a look at her. Get the marines on deck,’ David ordered.
Peterson walked aft to where David stood. ‘She’s not trying,’ he said. ‘It’s almost as if he wants us to catch him.’
As they closed with the ketch they could see her name. ‘The Good Fortune,’ David read. ‘She’s English. Bring a glass, let’s get a better look.’
Before he could put the telescope to his eye, however, Pitt was shouting wildly down to them. ‘On the ketch,’ he called, ‘dressed in black. Is that Carter?’
In the glass the pirate stood large as life, looking back at them.
‘Get alongside them,’ David screamed. ‘Prepare to board.’
At that moment the ketch hardened sheets and turned away towards the small island.
‘He’s away,’ called Peterson. ‘Making a run for it.’
‘He’ll not escape,’ Tailor laughed. ‘We have him.’
The Good Fortune proved a fast ship and well handled but not as fast as the Dancer.
Slowly they closed the gap. ‘Put her alongside, prepare grapples, be ready,’ David told them. ‘As soon as we touch, follow me on board.’
As they approached David counted eight men on the pirate’s deck, including Carter.
‘I’ll take ten marines and five seamen with the first wave; once the ships have stopped the others can follow.’ David drew his sword. ‘This bastard is mine.’
The gap closed little by little; as they got within ten feet grapples were thrown and the men pulled the two ships together.
‘Now,’ David called and sprang to the other ship, followed by his men. As they landed on her deck, men hidden beneath her rail leapt up and cut the grapples free. The ketch’s helmsman put down the helm and the two ships broke apart.
The pirates surged forward, led by Carter, who howled like a dog and launched himself at David. The two groups of men came together in a struggling mass, stabbing, biting, kicking and clawing at each other. David’s marines were denied space to form and so fought like the rest.
On board the schooner Peterson shouted to Tailor, ‘Get us back alongside, man.’
‘There is no room, sir,’ the master’s mate called. ‘The reef.’
Looking up, Peterson saw a large reef running down the starboard side. ‘Then go to larboard,’ he said.
‘No, sir,’ Tailor replied. ‘There’s another reef coming out from the second island to larboard. The channel is too narrow for two ships to enter side by side and look, sir.’ He pointed over the bow to where the brig approached from the other end of the channel.
‘Christ, it’s a bloody trap,’ Peterson swore. ‘Put the bowsprit to her stern and have the bow chaser shoot out her rudder. At this range it should be easy.’
David cut down a pirate who thrust at him with a pike and then was face to face with Carter.
The ferocity of the pirate’s attack drove him back towards the bow; he heard cannon fire from astern as he stumbled over a set of bits and felt the ship shudder.
Carter slashed at him with his sword, but David turned it away and thrust towards the man’s chest. Quick as a cat Carter spun to one side letting the blade pass beneath his arm at the same time stabbing with the knife in his other hand. David leapt back and the knife missed his chest by an inch. Again the pirate slashed at him and David parried; he drew back to strike and at that moment the ketch ran her starboard bilge up onto the reef and flung herself onto her larboard beam ends.
All the men on the ketch’s deck were flung into the larboard scuppers as with a crash the main mast snapped off four feet above the deck. David crashed face down against the larboard rail and was smothered in the foresail and its sheet. The main boom came free of the mast and smashed into Carter’s leg, trapping it between the boom jaws and the rail.
As David struggled to free himself he felt a terrible pain in his right leg.
The pirate had driven his knife into David’s right buttock and was slowly dragging him back towards him like a fish on a gaff. As he slid along the deck, the razor-sharp knife cut down into his leg. Screaming with pain, David turned as best he could and slashed at Carter’s head with his sword, once, twice and then a third time. As he swung again the ketch slid off the reef, water surged through the scuppers and then over the rail as the ship took her journey to the bottom of the sound.
The helmsman swung the Dancer’s helm hard to starboard, sending her round into the wind; she had to tack wildly in order to avoid running aground beside the ketch. Tailor sent her north until he had sea room and then gibed back towards the reef and hove to.
‘Get a boat in the water,’ Peterson shouted. ‘Move.’
David was under the foresail, which floated on the water above him; he struggled with the sheets that tried to drag him down, his leg numb except when the sharp pain raced up his side
As his lungs screamed for air, David began to panic, his movements became frantic.
He was beginning to drown when he was seized from behind. As he burst to the surface, gulping great mouthfuls of air, Chaney told him, ‘Swim, sir, swim for god’s sake.’
Wreckage was everywhere with men swimming amongst it, some to the north, as were David and Chaney, and some to the south. David’s head was spinning, his stomach heaving and the pain in his leg getting worse. Still Chaney urged him on.
‘Swim, sir,’ he kept saying. ‘Swim.’
As the brig came steadily closer, she fired a bow chaser at the Dancer, missing by no more than twenty feet.
The men in the longboat pulled as hard as they could, ignoring the cannon fire. They arrived amongst the wreckage and began dragging men from the water.
The Dancer slowly blew down onto the reef; soon she would have to tack round again. She fired her starboard-side four-pounders at the brig, the shot flying over the men in her boat.
Chaney scrambled into the boat, pulling David up behind him. David’s leg dragged across the gunwale making him scream.
‘Get him on board as quick as you can,’ Chaney said. ‘Then we can remove that.’ He pointed to the knife embedded in David’s leg.
Once they were on the Dancer’s deck they laid their captain on his stomach and Chaney plucked the knife from his flesh and used it to cut away his britches. He was shocked to see the size of the wound.
‘Get me a needle and thread,’ he called.
A round shot scorched its way between the masts.
‘Get underway,’ Peterson ordered. ‘The brig will be upon us.’
‘Not so, sir,’ Tailor said. ‘The ketch has blocked the channel; she’s trapped.’
‘Get out of range then,’ Peterson told him. ‘There’s a rain squall coming.’
The squall, when it came, blocked out the islands and lasted much longer than usual.
When at last it cleared they sailed back to the reef to find the brig gone.
‘She will have sailed east deeper into the sound,’ Tailor assured them. ‘There’s no other place to go.’
In the cabin Ch
aney finished bandaging David’s leg; it was not much to look at but at least the bleeding had stopped. David looked over his shoulder at the marine.
‘Have you finished torturing me now, Chaney?’ he asked.
‘As good a job of stitching as I ever saw, sir.’ Chaney grinned. ‘I hope I stitched up the right hole.’ David was violently sick over the edge of the cot.
Just before dusk the Mercury came round the headland. Phelps came on board and after hearing the story ordered Peterson to take the wounded back to Antigua.
‘I’ll send my boats into the sound at first light,’ he said. ‘You look after your captain.’
As they got underway David called for Peterson. ‘How many wounded do we have?’ he asked.
‘Six,’ he was told. ‘One broken arm, the rest mainly cuts and bruises; you are the worst by far.’
‘How many did we lose?’
Peterson looked glum. ‘Five,’ he said. ‘Three dead, two missing.’
‘Take us to Farmer’s Island,’ David ordered, ‘and get me some britches.’
As Chaney pulled the britches up over the web of bandages, he warned, ‘If you walk on this leg, Captain, my stitches will pull out and you will bleed to death.’
‘In that case you can carry me,’ David told him.
During the day and a half it took them to raise Farmer’s Island, David became steadily weaker and spent a lot of time in a half-awake state. Twice Peterson asked him to forget the gold and return to Antigua. David refused and all heaved a sigh of relief when they at last arrived at the island.
They entered the south bay of Farmer’s Island and anchored. Pitt was sent for.
‘Now, Pitt,’ David told the boy. ‘Tell me again what you saw.’
‘Well, Captain,’ Pitt began. ‘Whenever we talked about where the gold could be, we always said that if there was a cave, that would be the most likely place he would have hidden his loot.
Whilst we were here last time I was at the masthead and saw birds flying in and out of what looked like a small cave, just beyond the tree line. So I thought maybe that was the place.’
‘Go to the masthead with Mr. Peterson and show him what you saw,’ David ordered, ‘and then, Mr. Peterson, go and find this cave. Take six men with you.’
By the Knife Page 16