The Reaper tfa-1

by Michael Aye

  with the captains. When he turned around, he stuck out

  his hand to Gabe.

  “I’m pleased to announce that it’s the opinion of this board that you’ve shown the knowledge, leadership, and competency expected. Therefore, you have been passed for lieutenancy.”

  A sigh of relief escaped Gabe. Captain Swift, who was now smiling for the first time, shook Gabe’s hand then stated, “Now, run tell your brother the good news.”

  “Thank you, sir. Thank all of you,” Gabe replied excitedly.

  ***

  Markham was waiting when Gabe came out. “You didn’t bugger it for us, did you?” Ignoring Markham’s comments, Gabe blurted out, “I passed, I bloody passed!” Several of the waiting mids glared at Gabe. He didn’t care. He’d passed!

  “Damn,” Markham said smiling. He was happy for his friend. “You were in there forever. How was it?”

  “Hush,” the clerk scolded. “Be off with you.”

  “Gotta go,” Gabe told Markham. “We’ll meet later.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Dagan and Bart were at the jetty waiting when Gabe arrived. “I passed!” Gabe shouted jubilantly.

  “He don’t look like no ‘ossifer to me,” joked Bart.

  “Iffen he is, he’s poorly dressed,” Dagan added then asked, ‘‘Did they dunk you boy? You look fairly drenched.’’ Gabe ignored the two and made his way into the boat.

  Bart then turned to the boatmen. “Look alive, we got us a new officer.”

  Several of the men smiled and a few snickered goodnaturedly as the boat cast off from the jetty.

  “Have ‘is own ship soon, like as not,” volunteered Dawkins, the old seaman who Gabe had saved from having his leg crushed in a gun drill those months ago. “I’d serve ‘im, I would,” he said, and all agreed with he old salt’s sentiment.

  As the ship’s boat approached Drakkar, the sentry called out, “Boat ahoy!’’

  “Aye, aye.” Bart’s repy to the challenge said it all. An officer had returned to come aboard his ship.

  Anthony and Buck were waiting for Gabe at the quarterdeck. After congratulations were given, Anthony looked at his brother and was proud of what he saw.

  “Let’s go down to my cabin for a refreshment,” Anthony said, putting his arm across his brother’s shoulder as they went down to his quarters.

  Upon entering the cabin, Anthony called to Silas, “Fetch us a bottle of hock then be off with you.” When Silas left, Anthony looked at Gabe and said, “Father would have been proud of you, as I am. Now tell me about it.”

  Markham returned an hour or so later in a jubilant mood. He too had passed and was heartily congratulated as Gabe had been. Anthony planned a dinner that evening to celebrate Gabe and Markham’s passing the lieutenant’s exam. All the officers in Anthony’s squadron were invited. Gabe and Markham were both very pleased that the commodore was honoring them. However, the celebration was for passing the exam only. That was only the first part. They still had to receive their commissions. Until that time they were still midshipmen. Buck called to the two as Gabe and Markham were heading to change into their work uniforms.

  “I hear that of the thirteen mids who went before the hoard only six were passed.” This was news to the young gentlemen.

  “Less than half,” Markham stated.

  “Aye,” Gabe answered but added, “That means less competition for any available commissions.”

  As the two departed Drakkar for LeFoxxe and LeCroix, Gabe recalled Captain Swift’s remarks about special consideration being given due to who his relatives were. The good captain could say publicly what was politically correct. In Gabe’s mind he was sure connection played a big part in promotions. He hoped a deserving candidate was not passed over just so somebody’s lackey could be promoted. Gabe was sure of his own abilities, but couldn’t help but think of Witzenfeld. Witz should never have been made lieutenant. Witzenfelds’s promotion was proof he had patronage and special interest at some high level. Would his past difficulties with “Witz” come to haunt him at some point in the future? “I shall keep a weather eye,” Gabe promised himself.

  Suddenly, Gabe felt a swat to the back of his head. Turning quickly, he faced Markham-who had his hat in his hand.

  “You ain’t been listening to a word I have said, have you?” Markham asked.

  Realizing he’d tuned Markham out, but not wanting to be rude to his friend, Gabe replied. ‘‘I’m sorry. I was lost in thought.”

  “Huh,’’ snorted Markham. ‘‘I was saying, I bet that snot-nosed, carrot-headed shit on Commodore Gardner’s staff is sure to get a commission while his betters have to wait.”

  Gabe had to laugh. Markham was never one to hide his feelings. His particular dislike of the of the young gentleman in question had more to do with his being more readily available to entertain a certain young lady. Carrot-head’s assignment to the dockyard meant most nights free, while Markham was frequently at sea for days on end.

  ***

  The dinner that night was a feast. Plenty of good-natured ribbing went on and toasts were made. As the evening drew to a close, Anthony stood and tapped on a wine glass to quiet the officers before him. Once he had their attention, he called to the first lieutenant. ‘‘Mr. Buck, did you not tell me we had some important news arrive this evening that will certainly affect the daily operation of Drakkar?”

  “Aye sir, that’s true, it is,” replied Buck. ‘‘The guard boat has brought us these two letters I hold in my hand. One is addressed to Lieutenant Gabriel Anthony, Esquire; and the other is to Lieutenant Frances Markham, Esquire. Now unless I’m mistaken, I’d bet these official-looking packets are commissions.” When Buck handed the “Lieutenants” their commissions Anthony stood again.

  “Gentlemen, a toast to our two new lieutenants.” This started the merriment all over again.

  Dagan, Bart, and the bosun were all standing aft enjoying their pipes and a wee touch of rum themselves.

  “Sounds like a proper wetting down, don’t it?” the bosun said, commenting on the noise coming through the open transom windows and the skylight.

  “Aye,” Dagan responded. “Think of all the

  pounding heads tomorrow.”

  “Sure nuff,” Bart agreed. “Likely we’ll have to see

  things are done proper till noon. I can’t see any of them

  being clear-headed before then.”

  “Aye,” they all agreed, then turned their attention

  to the rum at hand.

  ***

  With the holidays ending, the pirates started

  attacking more frequently. Ships were looted and then

  destroyed with only a rare survivor to tell the tale. More

  often it was a piece of wreckage or flotsam that told the

  story. Thus far there had been no captives held for

  ransom. This lone fact made Anthony suspicious.

  Typically, pirates would be more than willing to hold a

  captive for ransom if there were any money to be had.

  There had to be political connections, else why turn

  down sure money? The pirates were not fools. There

  had to be a reason why no one had been offered up for

  ransom. And, if not political subterfuge, then what?

  One night when he and Lady Deborah were having

  a quiet meal with Commodore Gardner, he broached

  the subject. He had waited until the ladies had excused

  themselves. As the two men lit up their pipes and

  enjoyed a snifter of brandy, Anthony casually asked,

  “Ever hear of any ransom demands?”

  “Why no, I haven’t,” answered Gardner. “And

  there’s plenty been taken who could and would have

  paid a handsome sum for their freedom.”

  Anthony nodded, “That’s what I’ve been thinking.

  So, do you think someone is giving the pirates ‘head

  money’
to make up for lost ransom? If head money is

  being given, it would take deep pockets.”

  “Aye,” Gardner replied. “Such as a national treasury.”

  That night as lady Deborah drew Anthony to her she stated, “I heard part of your conversation with Commodore Gardner.”

  “I’m sorry,’’ he replied. “I didn’t want you to be troubled with such.”

  “Oh, I won’t be, my love,” she answered. “It just makes me more thankful you came along when you did.”

  “Hmm,” said Anthony, a smile breaking out on his face. Just how thankful?”

  “I’ll show you,” she replied, letting her shawl drop. “Shut the door.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Anthony had finally gotten a replacement lieutenant for Witzenfeld. Although Gabe and Markham had been commissioned, Anthony was still short of watch-standing officers since his lieutenants were spread throughout his growing flotilla. He had also acquired two more midshipmen. One was a twelve-year-old pimple faced youth who was as round as he was tall. The lad’s name was Joshua Young, and he’d been taken as a favor to Commodore Gardner.

  “The young man is a mama’s boy and his father wants to ‘wean him from the teat,’”, confided the commodore when he’d approached Anthony about a possible berth. The boy’s father was a self-made, well-todo merchant and he wanted the boy to amount to something besides a spoiled brat. An eventual commission would also make him a gentleman and not just a tradesman’s son.

  The other youth was Nathan Lavery. He’d been a midshipman for six years and would now be the senior mid. Anthony was concerned about how he’d get along with Davy, but the two hit it off fine. The older boy would be a good influence for Davy.

  They’d have to wait and see how young Mr. Young would turn out. His first day on board he cried and whimpered so the master had him “kiss the gunner’s daughter” for sniveling so. The weaning had begun! After a half dozen by the bosun he “dried it up quick enough.” Because Mr. Young was the junior mid, Davy strutted his seniority like a peacock till Buck told him he could find himself at the masthead with his tail feathers plucked. Davy became his old self after the first lieutenant’s warning.

  Anthony also received confirmation on his broad pendant. However, the new lieutenant made Anthony feel that the stars were truly shining down on him. He was heaven sent as far as Anthony was concerned. The man’s name was Julian Pope. His father was a former Governor of Barbados and then retired on the island. Since retiring he’d become a wealthy planter who owned a goodly portion of Barbados and St. John. Pope had entered the Navy as a midshipman under Admiral Rodney in 1760. He had been first lieutenant on the ninety-eight gun first rate London and he’d seen action towards the end of the seven-year war with France in 1762 and 1763. He’d steadily moved up until he’d made first lieutenant. However, he’d grown tired of cold, dreary English winters, and his father’s health was failing. Therefore, he’d applied for any available berth in the West Indies. Pope had been frank with Anthony during their initial meeting. He confided that should his father’s health worsen he would resign his commission and take over the family business. Anthony prayed for Pope’s father to have continued health. Pope had grown up in the West Indies and knew the islands, cays, and inlets like the back of his hand.

  With the weather moderating, it was time for the patrols to resume in earnest. Anthony returned to his earlier tactics. He took his flotilla out as a group and deployed them so as one ship would never be out of sight of another. This tactic would allow them to cover a greater area. Anthonv also decided to concentrate more towards the Leeward Islands on this patrol. Only St. Martin and Guadeloupe were considered French-held islands, but that was too obvious. If there were a hidden French influence to the ongoing piracy, Anthony didn’t think that the rogues would make a French island their base of operation. More likely, a small cay or inlet on a sparsely populated island would serve as a rendezvous. Such a place would offer some shelter from a storm, and yet wouldn’t be visible to the casual passerby. A covert cay would be a place they could camp and divide their plunder. Numerous such places were delineated on the local charts the master had acquired, and probably just as many more that had yet to be mapped.

  Maybe they would get a break soon. Otherwise he would be hauling down his new pendant and sailing back to England as a failure. The Leeward Islands seemed to be the area hardest hit recently. If one wanted to catch a pirate, Anthony thought, go to where the pickings are the ripest. Unlike some commanders, Anthony had never been shy of seeking advice from someone with experience. Therefore he sent for Pope, and together with Buck and the master, they went over the reports on the recent raids, plotting the positions on the charts.

  Anthony listened closely to his counsel, and was subsequently rewarded by his flotilla’s capturing of several small prizes to sail back to English Harbour. They had also burned several “coasters,” and had just captured a gun ketch that was definitely French built-the Shark.

  ***

  Anthony knew Gabe wanted the ketch by the time he and Earl had “fetched her up.” When Anthony went on board the vessel, he’d heard Gabe declare, “Damme but she’s a fine vessel, even after those bastards have abused her so.” Being French built, she was not as wide of beam as a British ketch, and slightly longer. Her lines were more sheer and curving with ornate bulwarks and two raked masts. Her transom was beautifully carved, and she carried five six-pounders on each side with a long nine in the fo’c’s’le. There also were four swivel guns on the main deck and one at the masthead. These were obviously rigged by the pirates who had taken her. The swivels were good for cutting down opposing crews without causing too much damage to the ship itself. Gabe’s only complaint with the vessel was its smell.

  After a careful inspection of the ketch, a number of letters were found. They were addressed to various people in England, some of the local islands, and one to Virginia in the Colonies. Why the letters had not been discarded was a puzzle. The only reason Anthony and his fellow officers could surmise was that some of the letters might contain sailing dates, and maybe a hint at what cargo a ship might be carrying. The letters were also evidence that many ships had fallen prey to the cutthroats.

  Upon searching the ketch’s storerooms, it was found she carried several barrels of spirits. When Anthony made his way to where the barrels were being “inspected,” he found the master had already broached a cask of wine, which he proclaimed far superior to Drakkar’s wardroom stores. Upon such a proclamation, Anthony had no choice but to order the bung replaced and have it made “ship’s stores.” He also eyed Silas, who-knowing his master-nodded his acknowledgment. Thus a cask was sure to become a part of the commodore’s supplies. Several barrels of Jamaican rum were also found. Anthony ordered a barrel to each ship, and the rest poured into the scuppers. Bart was seen shaking his head, muttering what a sad day it was. The bosun voiced his agreement. “It would’ve been a man-sized job, sir. But I reck’n with Bart, Dagan, and a couple of me mates to ‘elp, we could’ve disposed of it proper like. No use in supplying ole King Neptune, me thinks.”

  ***

  Anthony now had nearly a hundred pirates as prisoners scattered throughout his flotilla. He had also sent many of his crew back on prizes they had taken. Considering this, he decided it was time to return to English Harbour. He had given the ketch, Shark, to Gabe, but warned him it was as prizemaster only for now. Once he’d got back on Drakkar the master warned, “I just looked at the barometer and I believe we’re in for a squall.” Anthony ordered Buck to make ready for the approaching bad weather. Anthony never questioned Peckham on such subjects. Truth be known, he had an achy feeling too, and felt they may be in for a blow. Without being told, Buck signaled the other ships to prepare for bad weather.

  “I don’t mean to tell them their jobs, but they don’t know it all yet,” Buck said by way of explaining the signals. Anthony, without realizing, had turned over more and more of the ship handling to Buck. He needs t
he experience for when he makes post, Anthony had said to himself.

  Taking a look around, Anthony could see Shark off to starboard. Rascal was further astern but in sight, and was to starboard as well. LeFoxxe and LeCroix were forward and larboard. The squall hit suddenly and viciously as the master predicted. For several minutes the wind had such force that Anthony was concerned about the ship being taken aback by the wind. During this time he could hear the wind whipping through the rigging. Then the wind veered and the sails made a loud flopping sound. Then everything was calm. It was hard to imagine the squall had come and gone in under a half an hour. The watch on deck was soaking wet where they’d been pelted by the rain. Looking aloft for any damage, Anthony sensed the master as he sidled up to him.

  “She be intact,” Peckham said.

  At that time, the lookout who had rode out the squall at his station called down, “Deck there. Signal from Shark. Large ship attacking Rascal.” Anthony whirled toward the master and Buck. Peckham volunteered, “The wind has veered with the squall taking any sound with it.”

  Buck looked questioningly at Anthony, “Wear ship and beat to quarters?”

  “Aye,” Anthony replied, a sense of urgency in his voice, “But it’ll be over before we get there. Signal Shark to keep lookout, but not to close with the enemy. Then signal LeFoxxe and LeCroix to take station on Drakkar. No use sacrificing them.”

  The experience and training of the crew now showed. Drakkar had come quickly about, and under full sail was beating down on Rascal. They were already reaching on Shark.

  Now that Rascal was in sight, Anthony could see she was engulfed in smoke. The helpless schooner appeared dead in the water. Even at this distance, the damage was obvious. The attacking ship was big all right-as large as Drakkar, or maybe even bigger And she was painted black. The smoke was drifting and Anthony could see his foe clearly.