by Michael Aye
***
LeCroix had closed with the merchant vessel. She was a small snow with a crew of mostly islanders. The pirates had turned everything upside down. Most of the officers and crew had been killed and tossed overboard by the pirates. Sharks were in frenzy around the helpless ship. The surgeon reported to Anthony, “Nothing much for me to do. Work for a chaplain maybe, but not for me.”
Lieutenant Mainard reported aboard Drakkar. “Papers say she’s outta St. Lucia, sir. With a name cross her stern like “New Haven” I would assume she belongs to a colonial.”
“I agree,” Anthony said. “Is she ready to sail?”
“Aye, sir. The pirates were out for blood, not for destroying the ship.”
“We’ll leave her surviving crew on board. They’ll be more comfortable there than on Drakkar. Mr. Buck!”
“Aye, sir.”
“Put Gabe with a good master’s mate on board the snow and supplement its crew with a few of our men. He can take her hack to English Harbor.”
“Aye, sir,” Buck said, then hesitated. “I ‘ere, I thought I’d put Lieutenant Pitts on the Rascal.”
Anthony frowned, “Rascal!”
“Aye, sir. That’s the name of the schooner, the pirate’s vessel.”
“Oh yes,” Anthony answered, aggravated at his dullness. Trying to cover he said, “It’ll make Pitts’ dreams come true. You’ve likely doomed us all, Mr. Buck.”
Buck look puzzled, “How so, sir?”
Anthony smiled and replied, “Now that he’s got a taste of command, there’ll be no stopping Pitts. I’m sure he’ll make admiral before we do, as the master once predicted.”
Laughing, Buck said, “Could be, sir, could be.”
The return trip to Antigua was uneventful. One coastal vessel had been spotted but before Buck could call “hands to braces” it had scattered to a nearby island. Approaching English Harbour, Anthony could only guess at the impression the group would make as they headed toward their anchorage.
Drakkar had departed with the two schooners. Now instead of the three ships returning, Anthony rejoined with five. This would surely cause a stir. Breaking his reverie, the master called out to no one in particular, “Flagship has gone.”
Commodore Gardner was now the senior naval officer on station and Anthony was second. What a difference a few days made, Anthony thought. But his mind kept drifting to a little cottage on a hill and Lady Deborah.
Clearing his mind from thoughts of his mistress, Anthony realized several ships were at anchor that had not been present when Drakkar had sailed. A sloop of war, a brig, and the mail packet were all lying at anchor. Their captains, no doubt, were taking the time to enjoy the simple pleasures of the island, causing a pang of jealously in Anthony that he found surprising.
Chapter Nine
For the next several months things were quiet. Anthony was able to keep the schooner Rascal after she was “bought in,” but the snow was sent to England. Pitts was left in command, but he knew it was only temporary. Anthony was able to sign on most of the snow’s surviving hands. He was a little concerned about how the crew would react to the islanders. He’d never had a Negro on board his ship before. However, his concerns were for naught. The crew accepted the blacks well enough. They had been divided into two groups-the larger on board Rascal, and the other smaller group on LeCroix.
Anthony had also divided his squadron of “terriers,” as the master was so fond of calling them, into two groups. LeFoxxe and LeCroix went out in pairs. That was, Pitts being less experienced, would be under Drakkar’s watchful eye. By dividing his command into pairs, he could maintain a degree of safety and still patrol a greater area than would be possible if Drakkar was a lone ship. The pickings had been slim, however. Anthony enjoyed his forays ashore with Lady Deborah, but felt a growing need to be at sea. Out there he could possibly meet up with the Reaper, and put an end to the devil’s reign of terror. During one patrol, Pitt’s crew had picked up a poor man who had survived by clinging to a hatch cover after his ship was destroyed. The fellow was about done in from thirst, and half cooked by the sun. In his delirium, the man spoke of a great black ship with matching stygian sails. The ship just came out of the dawn, he said. The poor soul cried when he described how the ship was looted. To make for a more sinister situation, the pirates carried two screaming lady passengers away. He explained that after taking everything of value, the devil ship cast off, and then fired a whole broadside, completely destroying the little merchant ship.
Commodore Gardner had told Anthony that messages continued to trickle in of lost or missing ships. The schooners had picked up a couple of smaller coastal vessels for piracy. Pitts, on the schooner Rascal, had made the last capture. But all in all their work was futile, creating a greater sense of urgency and frustration for Anthony.
“The season is upon us,” explained Commodore Gardner. “Nobody wants to be caught in a hurricane, be he merchant or rogue. Therefore, there should be a break in the devilment.”
Anthony’s little flotilla found out first hand what the commodore had meant in late August. They had just rendezvoused off the windward island of St. Vincent on the Caribbean side when the storm began. Suddenly, the sea had become a deadly foe, as much an enemy as the pirates they were trying to apprehend. The master cursed as he was summoned from the wardroom by a concerned watch. However, the curse died on his lips as the storm had turned into a full gale. A master’s mate was already lashing down one of the helmsmen so he wouldn’t be washed overboard.
The master hurried to help lash down the other helmsman. “Four men-we need four men at the wheel to keep control,” Peckham ordered his mate.
The wind whipped the waves as they came crashing down over the bow, sending rivers of water surging down the deck, tearing at everything in its path. No sooner had one watch been dismissed before all hands were called to shorten sail or take down torn canvas. Anthony remained on deck during the entire ordeal. He had on his oilskins but was drenched, and due to the wind, somewhat chilled. He couldn’t help but worry not only about Drakkar, but also of Gabe and the others on the more fragile schooners.
Buck had been helping to free a blocked tackle when he lost his footing and was knocked into the scuppers as the raging water sluiced down the larboard side. He found himself being hauled unceremoniously to his feet as huge hands grabbed the neck of his slicker and jerked him from the cascading torrent, setting him upright on deck.
McMorgan, the burly bosun, had been his rescuer. “Got ‘ya trained now, sir, so I don’t want to lose ‘ya and have to train another,” the big man had explained, smiling as he did so. Buck, bruised and half drowned, muttered, “Glad to hear you feel so, bosun. Glad I am to hear it.’
Anthony grew more concerned about the schooner. The seas were getting big and he was fearful of a rogue wave catching one of the fragile ships on one quarter and broaching her. The wind continued to increase and instead of coming from directly astern as it had been, it seemed to come from all directions.
“Can you see the schooners?” Peckham asked. The old master was unshaven and hollow-eyed. Even with his rotund belly he looked gaunt. Peering aft beyond the turbulent waves one of the schooners could he seen. But which one?
“She’s taken in everything but the foresail,” Buck yelled to make himself heard above the wind.
“Aye,” Peckham agreed. “And she looks like she may over reach us under bare sticks.”
The avalanche of water continued to crash against Drakkar’s bow, making the ship shudder and creating terror in the crew. They responded when called but fighting the storm sapped a man’s strength, making each maneuver a life or death struggle.
McMorgan could barely see, the wind stinging his eyes, as he reported to Anthony. “One of the forward cannons has tried to break away from its lashings, cap’n, but we’s doubled up on ‘em so’s she’s not likely to come adrift. There’s two feet or more ‘o water in the well but I got crews on the pumps and the water don’t appea
r to be gaining. I’ve taken me mates and checked below the waterline and so far we’s not sprung a plank!”
The news was good but they were not out of trouble yet. On and on until it seemed like forever. Waves grew bigger and bigger.
“Looks to me like a mountain,” Bart had sworn, “I never seed such a storm.”
“It’s a hurricane,” Peckham exclaimed. “This ain’t no gale, it’s a hurricane.”
They had run all the way to Jamaica before the hurricane had veered northerly toward Cuba. The black sky began to turn gray then clear even more. The sharp rain that had pelted the watch like tiny daggers slowed then stopped. The surging sea that had tossed Drakkar around like a twig grew less angry and was now only fast rolling swells. Anxious men were now sterner, having survived more than they thought they could. They had been lucky, very lucky. Sails were torn. Rigging was damaged and cordage was everywhere. One of the ship’s boats had been smashed. All this was superficial. Drakkar was afloat. They had survived.
Bart had summed up Anthony’s feelings exactly in a comment he made to Silas. “Glad I am that’s over. I ain’t yet ready to cast me lot with old King Neptune. Not yet I ain’t.”
Chapter Ten
Gabe and Markham had each turned eighteen, and both ready to sit for the lieutenant’s exam. They each had birthdays in November-Gabe’s on the thirteenth and Markham’s on the nineteenth. They shared much more than a birth month: mischievous natures. Anthony had been relieved that most of their pranks had been carried out ashore and neither had required discipline from the bosun.
Lady Deborah had decided to give a birthday path for the two “middies.” She had invited every young lady on the island, all of whom showed up for the festivities in their finest attire, each trying to out-do the other for the young gentlemen’s attention. Lieutenant Earl was present also. He and Gabe entertained the young ladies with their musical abilities to the delight of all.
Gabe and Markham had become close friends, and each was well-liked by the other officers under Anthony’s command. The two young gentlemen had grown not only in stature, but as responsible officers as well. It was hard to think of the two as mids, they had matured so much since the commission had started. Anthony was certain both would pass the exam. The only problem was having enough post captains in port at one time to form a board. With the holidays rapidly approaching, surely a couple of ships with post captains would arrive.
Anthony heard the sound of laughter and a feminine giggle. The gentlemen seemed to be well occupied by the flirting young ladies, leaving Anthony with the feeling that the furthest thing on Gabe and Markham’s mind was the lieutenant’s exam.
New Year’s Day in the year of our Lord 1775 found Lady Deborah a guest aboard Drakkar, along with Commodore Gardner and his wife, Greta. Also on board for the festivities were Captain Swift and Captain Meade. Captain Swift was in command of HMS Roebuck, a new forty-four-gun frigate that was barely a year old. Captain Meade commanded the Magic frigate of thirty-two guns. Both were on convoy duty from Portsmouth. Anthony was very excited that the two captains were on station. It would probably take weeks for the convoy to be assembled for the trip back to England. During that time, with Commodore Gardner’s help, a board could be convened for the lieutenant’s exam.
After completing one of the finest meals Silas had ever prepared, cigars were passed around, and those who preferred pipes lit them. Lady Deborah and Greta excused themselves to the upper deck where Lieutenant Earl and Gabe were entertaining the crew with their music during this festive time. A few of the crew joined in the merriment. Bart carried chairs up for the ladies. A warm greeting to the men by the ladies and a sharp scowl from Bart ensured there would be no profane language or vulgar comments while the ladies were on deck. Meanwhile, back in Anthony’s quarters, Silas was pouring claret for everyone. When glasses were filled, Anthony broached the subject of an examination board, he was somewhat surprised at how quickly the captains agreed to convene a board. It appeared both captains had mids that were ready for the exam. In fact, Captain Meade had two. “One’s past his prime and the other is just now ripe,” he explained.
Upon the approval of Commodore Gardner, as senior naval officer of Antigua, a board was scheduled for the lieutenant’s exam to be held the following Wednesday. That would be the first Wednesday of the month. As luck would have it, two brigs, a sloop of war, and a frigate all dropped anchor within the next few days. The frigate was a captured French ship, the Tyger. She was small-a sixth rate, but was commanded by a post captain. This resulted in there now being three post captains in port to sit on the board with Commodore Gardner as the President.
Gabe and Markham had been told the board was being convened, so they busied themselves getting all their papers together and going over some last minute questions with the master. Only a week ago there had been just a handful of midshipmen on the island. Thus Gabe and Markham had been somewhat in demand in regards to the island’s social scene. Both young gentlemen were at the top of the list to receive invitations from various young ladies The two had basked in their celebrity but now there seemed to be midshipmen everywhere. All were acting important.
“The only good thing about all these shit souled younkers coining out of the woodwork, is that the board is bound to recognize the only two real seamen in the lot,” offered Markham.
“Aye,” Gabe answered. “But if the little turds anger the board, it will go hard on us all.”
Markham nodded, seeing the logic in Gabe’s comments. “Well, if they do I’ll keelhaul me a little bastard and that’s no idle promise.”
Gabe couldn’t help but laugh, such was the vehemence in his friend’s comments. “Let’s go have a wet and cool your humors.”
***
“It’s a shit pot load,” Markham exclaimed to Gabe as they approached Government house for the lieutenant’s exam. A large group had already gathered. Some were in little two or three men groups with texts and asking each other questions. Others were nervously pacing, and one was obviously the worse for drink. Once, when a question was being asked in one of the little groups, Gabe and Markham overheard both the question and answer. Looking to his friend, Gabe declared, “I knew that”-to which Markham replied somewhat sarcastically, “Of course,” not trying to hide his disbelief. Gabe counted thirteen mids for the exam. Thirteen!
“Damn, there’s thirteen of us,” Gabe told Markham. “Why couldn’t it have been twelve or fourteen?” Gabe had never been superstitious, but this just seemed an omen.
At 8 A.M., a stooped, gray-haired little clerk from the commodore’s staff opened the front door. A hush fell over the group of assembled young gentlemen. Gabe began to feel more nervous. What if he failed? He didn’t want to let his brother down, or his dead father for that matter. “What’d you expect from the bastard?” some would say. His stomach growled and he felt Markham punch him. The punch broke Gabe’s train of thought, and he realized the clerk was speaking.
“Now, young sirs, make sure you have all your documents and bonifides ready and in good order. There’s no time to return to your ship to fetch some certificates left behind.” The clerk sounded like a schoolteacher. “Now, sirs, so as to maintain proper discipline and good order, we will proceed according to the alphabet.”
Gabe turned to Markham and said “Hell’s fire.” As Gabe turned away Markham pleaded, “Don’t make ‘em mad, Gabe, don’t anger ‘em, please.”
When Gabe entered the boardroom the commodore greeted him. “Ah, Mr. Anthony, your packet please.”
Absently, Anthony handed his packet to the captain sitting by the commodore. There was a single chair sitting in front of the long table where the examining board was seated.
“Would you care to sit down, sir?”
“Oh, no sir,” Gabe responded, trying to
focus-trying to get his senses about him.
“Mr. Anthony, let me introduce you to the board,”
said the commodore. At the far end of the table on
my
left is Captain Williams from Tyger, next is Captain
Meade of Magic, and to my right is Captain Swift of
Roebuck.” Each officer had nodded his greeting.
Captain Swift started things off. “I see you’ve seen
considerable action for one so young. I also see your
father was an admiral, and your brother has raised his
broad pendant!”
“Yes sir,” Gabe stoically replied.
“Do you expect any favors from this board because
of your relations being senior officers?”
“No sir!”
“Good,” replied Swift in a harsh voice, “‘Cause
there’ll be none.”
Oh, shit, thought Gabe.
Next Captain Meade said, “Tell me about some of
those actions against the pirates you encountered.”
After telling of the actions with the pirates, and the
prizes that they had taken, Gabe started to relax. He
was asked a few questions about strategy and what he’d
change if given the opportunity. Gabe was gaining
confidence when the commodore announced, “Well,
enough of that, let’s proceed.”
Gabe felt the wind sucked from his sails. Each
captain seemed to have his own little pet niche and
Gabe was bombarded with questions regarding these
particular niches. He was sweating, feeling thirsty and
somewhat dizzy when the commodore said, “I’ve no
further questions.”
At first, Gabe didn’t comprehend the commodore’s
comment. His eyes were stinging from sweat dripping in
them. His shirt was damp and clung to him from the
perspiration, but he managed to find a dry spot on the
cuff and wipe his eyes. The commodore was in counsel