Salvaging the guns was a long, slow business. Shear legs had to be rigged on the deck of the wreck. The guns were then lifted with block and tackle into a longboat one at a time and rowed back to the Provider. Each gun was then laid on deck and the procedure repeated. Once they had eight usable guns on board, the carriages were treated in the same manner. Now the men swam for shot. The iron was laid over the seabed with only twenty odd balls being found on board the wreck. As a ball was found a net was swum down to it and the men in the boat hauled it to the surface. Carter wanted twenty loads for each cannon, one hundred and sixty balls. For three days they laboured, whilst the sea stayed quiet. On the fourth day one of the men swimming inside the wreck found the main load of iron underneath the collapsed lower deck and things moved a lot faster. Carter now wanted all the cannon balls, however, and it was not until the evening of the seventh day that he was satisfied. The following morning found both ships anchored back in the bay and work began on repairing and fitting the guns.
Firstly, both guns and carriages were scrubbed clean and then work was started on the carriages, some of which had taken damage. All needed to dry out. The cannon were cleaned and polished with particular attention to the bores. Each cannon ball was cleaned and dried. They had finally salvaged almost three hundred balls. The two ships had been lying in the bay for almost two weeks before work could be started on the gun ports. There were not enough eye bolts and these had to be forged using a charcoal fire on the beach. Carter wanted three cannon in each broadside plus two as chasers. They also built fighting tops on the fore and mizzen masts and hauled two of the swivels up to them.
As the work went on Carter assessed his new crew. They were scum to a man; exactly what he needed but unruly and lazy. He doubted they would stand up long under fire. The two brothers seemed to have control of them, however. He just had to make sure he had control of the brothers. The best thing would be to split them up. He decided he would put one in each ship; that would test their brotherly love when the shot began to fly.
Lucas was the obvious choice for captain and so he announced that Gustavo would sail as mate on board the Assad as a reward for bringing back the Provider. The boy was not happy with the arrangement, but was not in a position to refuse.
Carter decided this bay would be his permanent base; it offered far more than the swamp near Nanji’s village. It was far enough away to be clear of any French attack but close enough if he needed Nanji’s help. He went ashore with ten of his new crew and let them slaughter the Portuguese man and his fat wife. Walking down to the mission he found an elderly French priest being looked after by several young locals. The man held up a bible and began chanting in some unknown language. Carter’s men seemed afraid of the priest, but once he had cut the old man’s throat they were happy to rape and murder the natives.
Carter was now ready to go looking for Fletcher and felt his two ships were strong enough to take prizes. He was under no illusion about facing warships, however. His crews would not stand long against the two navies in the area. First, he must find out what had happened to Nanji.
Lucas and Gustavo sat in silence as Carter lectured them on his battle plans. ‘When we sight a merchantman you will attack whilst I come up from astern and engage with my chasers,’ he told Lucas. ‘I will then board from the opposite side. You will obey my instructions. Is that understood?’
Lucas nodded his head in agreement. Later he whispered to his brother, ‘I will help him take some prizes and then kill him; we will let him make us rich.’
That night whilst the crews drank themselves senseless on the beach, Carter and two others loaded the silver and treasure chests into a longboat and rowed round to the mission beach. There they dug a pit behind the hut and buried all deep in the soft earth. Carter killed his two helpers and left them in the jungle for the wild beasts. As he walked back down the beach he did not see Gustavo watching from the jungle.
Next morning the two ships sailed from the bay and turned south once more. As they neared the north side of the delta Carter signalled the Provider to anchor; she would await his return. Reducing sail they slowly approached the river on which Nanji’s village sat.
Carter wanted to arrive with the dusk. Once anchored in the river mouth, they put down a boat. Rowing as silently as possible they moved towards the village; all was silent and no cooking fires were seen. As the boat grounded in the reeds Carter could see no sign of life. Walking up to the clearing where the huts had been he found only burned ruins. Nanji and his people had gone. On his way back through the village Carter found no bodies, no sign of a battle. It looked as if Nanji had just taken his people away. Returning to the boat Carter crossed the river. The slave compound his men had built was torn down, the cut trees scattered about.
‘Back to the ship,’ he told his men. ‘There is nothing for us here.’
As they rowed out of the swamp a figure watched them from the far bank, keeping to the trees. Zuri waited until they had gone before launching the canoe he had hidden in the reeds. Dressed in a pair of britches he had cut off just below the knee, the boy now sported a pistol in his leather belt as well as his cutlass. He paddled upriver. He would report to his father, but first he would tell his friends that the one-eyed captain was back.
CHAPTER 15
Jameel slapped Zuri on the back. ‘That’s good work, my friend,’ he said in English. He had been teaching the boy English now for over a month and Zuri’s progress was amazing. ‘I’ll tell the captain.’
‘Powder please,’ Zuri said. He had been asking for powder and shot for his pistol for some time. Fletcher had so far refused, saying he would not give firearms to the natives. Jameel had let him fire his pistol several times in secret and the boy was becoming a reasonable shot. The arms, which Zuri had picked up from the French sloop’s deck after the battle, were his pride and joy.
As soon as arrangements had been made for the wounded to be transferred on board the French sloop, Fletcher had moved both ships fifteen miles north. The damage to the prize made her almost unmanageable and it was with great difficulty that they pulled her into a small channel and ran her aground. Once she had been camouflaged she was concealed from any passing ship and would serve as a hospital hulk. They then moved the Challenger to within ten miles of the village Zuri had marked on the chart and anchored off of yet another island.
The idea was that when the French heard of their defeat they would come looking for the Challenger and keep clear of the wounded.
At the same time Fletcher would visit Zuri’s father and gain information on the slaver’s activities. When Zuri had returned to the ship he had climbed the mast, explored the lower decks and spent most of his time with the guns, which seemed to fascinate him. Night and day he wore a cutlass he had picked up on the French sloop and, wrapped in a pair of britches he had found, he kept a pistol. After they had been in the new anchorage a week he proudly walked the deck in his britches with both cutlass and pistol in his belt. David Fletcher immediately gave orders that he was to be given no powder or shot but had not the heart to take the pistol away.
The ship settled down and all was peaceful; the drama of the battle and the pressure of waiting for another French attack wore off. David had decided it was safe to leave the ship and visit the native village when Zuri’s two guards from before came speeding towards them in a canoe, shouting an alarm.
It seemed that one of the other native tribes, working with the French, was spreading out across the delta searching for the English. They had learned that Nanji was working with white men and were massing to attack his village.
Jameel explained everything to David and asked if David could help. The attacking tribe was much larger than Nanji’s and they were supported by the French.
Mr. Woods, the surgeon, smiled at David and said, ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’
Zuri started talking very quickly and waving his arms. Jameel listened for a few moments and then turned to David.
‘
Zuri thinks we should do the same as you did with the French ship. His warriors will face the enemy and once they are engaged, your marines should attack from the rear.’
David turned to Mr. Martin. ‘What do you think, Lieutenant?’ he asked.
‘If we could get them into a clearing with my men in the trees, sir,’ he said, ‘a few volleys should do the job without too much trouble.’
David turned back to Jameel. ‘Very well, tell Zuri his father must move his people out of the village and lead his attackers into a position of my officer’s choosing.
Mr. Martin, you and Jameel will go with Zuri and arrange the action with his father.’
It was long after dark when the canoe returned with a slightly drunk marine lieutenant and Jameel. ‘Damned palm wine,’ Martin muttered as he staggered below.
The beach was wide and approximately a hundred yards long with dense jungle on three sides. Nanji’s warriors were massed at the back of the beach screaming defiance as the canoes of the enemy tribe spilled over two hundred war-painted tribesmen onto the beach.
Without thought or planning they rushed up the sand, war cries echoing round the bay, into the crossfire of the Challenger’s marines concealed at each end of the beach. Volley after volley cut into the mass of warriors until Nanji’s men, unable to constrain themselves any longer, charged into the attack. Martin at one end of the beach and Chaney at the other ordered the ceasefire, unable to tell friend from foe. One turn of a small sand glass saw the action over, the beach littered with the dead.
Nanji’s warriors were ecstatic, dancing round, waving their spears in the air. Nanji stood and accepted full credit for the victory.
Later David stood and stared at the terrible sight; tribesmen still hacked at the bodies cutting mementoes from the dead. Zuri stood in the midst of death, smothered in blood, hacking at a corpse with his cutlass, a huge grin on his face.
Looking at Lieutenant Martin, David asked, ‘was there no sign of the French?’
‘No, sir,’ the marine replied.
‘I’m unsure that we have done a good thing.’ David looked at Peterson. They sat in the aft cabin each holding a glass. ‘Trained marines with modern muskets against natives with spears; it smacks of murder.’
‘The French sent one tribe against another, sir, not you and these natives would cut us to pieces without a thought if it gained them anything,’ Peterson told him.
David put down his glass. ‘You know, Stephen, I don’t believe the French are here to attack English shipping; I believe they are here to stay. They intend this land to be a French colony.
That would explain the naval presents. The only thing lacking is French troops and that could be what they are preparing for.’
‘A French colony sitting on the eastern shipping lanes would be a considerable embarrassment, sir.’
‘Which is why they are here.’ David smiled. ‘We must do all that we can to make life hard for them. But for now we must complete the task we have been given. The French have sent a local tribe against us. On the morrow we will search them out using our local tribe and destroy this base and any ships we find there. Tell Mr. Clark I want the men fed and ready to move at first light.’
As always Zuri would be their guide. To his britches, belt, cutlass and pistol he had now added a midshipman’s hat and stood proudly beside the helmsman giving instructions in his pidgin English. As David watched him he reflected on the boy’s ability to learn. David guessed his age to be around sixteen years; handsome, well-muscled and highly intelligent, it was unbelievable that people could treat his race as cattle, so much livestock to be bought and sold. David walked over to him.
‘Good morning, Midshipman Zuri.’ He grinned. The boy beamed his white smile and touched his hat as he had seen the midshipmen do. ‘
Tell me, Zuri, when did you last come to this place?’
Jameel came closer in case a translation was required. After some conversation they agreed it was six or eight months earlier.
‘You brought this other captain here?’
‘Yes, Captain.’
‘Why did he come here?’
‘He came to steal a flag and some clothes.’
David was confused. ‘He took only a flag and some clothes?’
Zuri nodded his head. ‘Yes.’
‘Tell me about this captain, what nature of man is he?’
Zuri and Jameel talked together at some length and then Jameel turned to his captain.
‘Zuri’s father believes him to be a devil. He kills for pleasure but only young men of his own race. He had a ship with two masts at first and bought slaves, but then he came with another ship and both went away. Now he returns with a different ship and went away when Zuri’s father told him they would be attacked.’
A cold feeling gripped David’s stomach. ‘In what way does he kill young men for pleasure?’
Once again Jameel turned to the boy beside him. As they talked David’s blood ran cold. The boy ran his finger along each rib and then across his stomach, finally cupping his manhood. As an afterthought he passed his finger three times on the right side of his face and covered his right eye.
David’s mind raced. Was it possible? Who else would mutilate a human being in such a way? ‘What colour is his hair?’ he asked.
‘Black,’ was the reply. ‘Very black.’
As they anchored the ship in the lee of a large island David sent for Sergeant Chaney. When the marine arrived he asked, ‘Chaney, did you see Carter die?’
Chaney looked surprised. ‘He went down with his ketch, sir.’
‘Did you actually see him die? Could it be possible that he survived?’
The marine looked thoughtful. ‘I did not see him die, sir. We were all a little busy at the time. The last I saw of him he was trapped under the wreckage as the ketch sank.’
‘Chaney, there is a captain here who has scars on the right side of his face and enjoys cutting up young boys. Do you think it could be him?’
‘The way you were slashing at him with your sword when the ship sank, sir, if he is alive he has scars on his face, that’s for sure.’
David dragged his mind back to the task at hand as Lieutenant Martin crossed the deck and touched his hat. ‘I am ready to begin landing the men, sir,’ he reported.
‘Very well, send scouts into the jungle. I want full reports before we begin to move; we must not fall into the same trap as the French did.’
Zuri led a party of seamen and marines through the jungle as he had once led Carter and arrived, as before, at the rear of the French privateer base. A merchantman was anchored in the bay; no other ships were in sight. Three top men quickly climbed into the trees to watch for enemy movement; three more waited below to act as runners.
The marines shed their red coats and settled down to guard the top men. Zuri turned and ran back the way they had come to report to Fletcher. On hearing that only a merchantman was at anchor it was decided on a boat attack. The marines would travel through the jungle whilst fifty seamen, led by Mr. Peterson, would row round the south end of the island and board the ship at anchor.
Fletcher himself would go with the marines, leaving Mr. Clark in command of the Challenger. Clark would hold himself in readiness to sweep round the island once the enemy was engaged.
As they marched through the jungle David reflected on how unfit he was becoming. They were only halfway and he was already blowing like an old man. Zuri was on his third trip of the day and still looked fresh. Arriving at the marines’ position, they threw themselves down on the grass. David crawled forward to peer through the foliage at the encampment. All was quiet. Men lounged on the ship’s deck whilst others sat in the sand or strolled along the water’s edge.
They would attack at dusk. The plan was that as soon as Peterson’s boats appeared, David would charge the huts, making a diversion to enable Peterson to board the ship, whilst David overcame the men ashore.
Touching a marine corporal on the shoulder David whisper
ed, ‘Take four men and work round behind those two guns on the sand spit. Be very quiet and make no move until I do.
When the boats arrive, make sure the guns are silent.’
The marine nodded and crawled away. Time passed slowly as the sun edged towards the horizon. The men started to fidget as biting insects pestered them.
The light was fading and David began to fear that Peterson had left his attack too late when Midshipman Carpenter said, ‘The boats, sir.’
Looking up, David saw the Challenger’s three boats sweep round the headland and head for the anchored merchantman. ‘On your feet,’ he shouted. ‘Attack.’ The pent-up tension was released as the men rushed forward surrounding the huts and kicking in doors. Shots were fired and men grappled hand to hand. Three men charged out of a doorway and David rushed at them only to be pushed to one side as five marines struck at them with their bayonets.
One of the men screamed in a high-pitched voice as two marines repeatedly stabbed him in the stomach and chest. Turning his attention to the ship at anchor, David heard shouting and musket fire. A swivel gun was fired, the sound echoing round the bay. Seeing that the fighting on the beach was dying down, David shouted at Lieutenant Martin to find boats.
‘We will support Mr. Peterson,’ he ordered.
Martin smiled as he wiped blood from his sword blade. ‘Not necessary, sir. Mr. Peterson has the ship,’ he said. Looking back at the merchantman David saw Peterson’s men waving from the deck.
As the marines pushed the prisoners into a line on the beach, the Challenger sailed into the bay.
‘This is not a place where we can stay, gentlemen,’ David told his officers. ‘At any moment that French frigate could arrive.’
They were standing outside the largest hut inside of which they had found stores of salted meat, flour and salt. In another hut there was powder and shot. The rest of the huts contained a wealth of goods taken from the merchantman they had boarded.
‘What stores and goods we cannot load we will burn,’ David ordered. The captured ship, named the Eastern Trader, was out of Bristol and seven of her original crew were found locked below. David kept his men working through the night loading all that they could. He also sent Zuri back to his father to tell him he could take his pick of any goods left behind. Having replenished the Challenger’s powder store, they placed the remaining gunpowder round the two enemy guns and laid a fuse.
By the Knife Page 30