by Michael Aye
captured English ships?”
“I’m not sure,” Pope answered. “But they would
have slowed her down too much when she was being
used as a slaver. They were probably added when she
turned pirate.”
“It’s hard to believe there’d be that much more
profit in piracy than in slavery,” Anthony commented.
“Well sir, only the survivors share the plunder in
piracy,” Pope stated.
Commodore Gardner had long since placed a
handkerchief over his nose. “My God! How’d any of
them manage to stand the stench?”
Anthony took a step back from Gardner. After his
comment about the smell, Anthony noticed his friend
looked pale and ready to lose his lunch. Pope and Buck
didn’t appear to notice, or chose to ignore Gardner’s
discomfort.
“The scum we captured were no cleaner than slavers. No doubt they were as used to the slaver’s stench as their own filth,” Anthony said.
“Well, filthy or not, they proved hard men. Those sixteen twelve-pounders were well manned,” Pope volunteered.
“Aye,” Buck acknowledged.
Just looking at the Shark was proof of that. “I’d like to take those two long nines. They’re in better shape than our bow chasers,” Buck said, hoping to make a swap for the newer guns.
Anthony nodded, but didn’t say anything. No use to create more paperwork when it wasn’t necessary. It was sometimes easier to ask forgiveness than to obtain permission.
With all the talk about the guns going on, Pope couldn’t help but recall that first onslaught. His body gave an involuntary shudder. “Thank God they were after plunder and not trying to sink us. Otherwise the lot of us would be goners.” Pope had put to words what the others were thinking. “Had they known the size of our crew they would have stood off and pounded us into submission or sunk us. We’re lucky they were boarding before they realized we were more than a coastal trader.”
The battle had become so intense that once the pirates had gotten their blood up they failed to keep a lookout. Drakkar and the schooners had arrived before the pirates knew what was happening. One minute they’d all but taken Shark. The next they’d been taken.
“The whoresons got what they deserved,” Bart commented for the first time. “I lost a few mates among the jack tars and marines they kilt.”
Many had died and some were still recovering in the hospital. Anthony was actually glad Gabe had talked him into giving Caleb passage. His skill and help with so many wounded had been invaluable. Kramer was as good as any ship’s surgeon, but many would have died waiting on his services had Caleb not been present to help. He’d certainly taken care of Gabe.
As Anthony made his departure with Commodore Gardner, he overheard Dagan making a comment to Bart. “What was that you said?” he asked Dagan.
“I was just commenting on the odd names of the ships we’ve taken, sir. It seems they’ve taken on a gruesome tone, so to speak-like the pirates are trying to create fear in the way they’ve named their ships. We know the big frigate that done for poor Mr. Pitts is Reaper. We already took Rascal and Shark. Now this one is Scythe. I can’t help but wonder if this is a sign, an omen, if you will.”
The men working close by had all stopped their work as they heard Dagan’s comments. It suddenly got very quiet and still. Realizing the effect his words were having on the men and officers before him, Dagan changed his tack. No use scaring the men, he thought.
“Yes sir, I do believes its an omen alright, but a bad omen for the bloody buggers who sailed those ships, and its prize money for us. Eh mates?”
That set the men back in good spirits, and they gave a hearty cheer. Anthony was glad Dagan had put a spin on his thoughts for the men’s sake, but he agreed. The pirate leader appeared to be doing his best to set an eerie tone to the whole mess. The capture of Scythe would certainly add to the men’s already fat purses. He wanted them to dwell on that, not fear. They had been lucky so far. While this prize would also help Anthony’s purse, what excited him the most was the papers and information they’d discovered. The pirate captain had been so sure of his victory over Shark he’d not bothered to take precautions with his papers. Now Anthony had them, and Scythe’s former captain was shark bait.
The man had obviously been a good seaman and a fearless fighter, but he didn’t trust his memory. They had found the answer to the rendezvous puzzle. The man had a chart, and in the margins he had written down dates and numbers. On the charts, numbers were written beside corresponding locations. St. John was number five, St. Kitts was number seven, St. Lucia was number nine and so on.
***
Anthony’s dining area was full of tobacco smoke, the faint but distinct odor of alcoholic spirits, and the unmistakable air of good cheer. All of Anthony’s officers had gathered for a council of war. Armed with their latest intelligence, a plan for the Reaper’s capture or destruction was being carried out. With Pope’s knowledge of local waters, Anthony called upon the lieutenant for specific recommendations. The admiralty charts were far from accurate in regards to the specific depths, shoals and channels around the rendezvous area. This was information Anthony had to have in order for Drakkar to be positioned so that she could spring from her hiding place and close the door on the trap that he was planning for Reaper. It had to be a complete surprise to work. Therefore, accurate information had to be obtained. The local charts were more reliable, but a scouting expedition would have to be undertaken before Anthony would feel satisfied.
According to the captured documents, the Reaper would rendezvous with Scythe on 16 March. If either ship failed to meet on that day, an attempt to rendezvous again would be made on 20 March. The rendezvous would take place at Snake Island. Pope stated that with the tides and season being as they were, he was sure Reaper would take the Anegoda Passage. The only piece of the puzzle missing was the time of day the meeting was to occur. Nothing about times had been found, and the pirate captain was dead so he couldn’t tell. With Anthony’s agreement, Pope had proposed to place one schooner and the ketch between Crab Island and the passage to Puerto Rico. The other two schooners would be placed between Crab Island and St. Croix. Drakkar would be anchored in the shallows between Virgin Gorda and St. John Island. That way, Reaper would be in the box before anyone knew the difference, if all went as planned. A damned big “IF!”
The problem was something was always likely to go awry. They may put the tiger in a cage, but she was still a tiger, and dangerous.
“The schooners are no match for Reaper’s broadside,” Anthony cautioned his officers. “Rascal is proof of that. I’ll not send good men to their death in a useless display of ourage. I’ve no doubt as to your bravery and devotion. If you need to sink the vessel to close off a channel to prevent Reaper’s escape, then so be it. Get the men off, and scuttle the ship where it’ll do the most good. Remember, floating bodies and wreckage have yet to slow down Reaper. Those officers in command will be given written orders. However, I don’t want any of this onversation discussed once this meeting is over. I trust each of you, but I’m not yet convinced we don’t have a py in our midst or possibly ashore, slipping information
o the cutthroats. If we do, then our plan is all for naught. The bastard will know we’ve captured Scythe and we’ll never see him at the rendezvous point. Am I clear?” All answered in unison. “Well, enough of that then. I know you’ll all act honorably. We have two weeks till our first endezvous is to take place. We’ll have plenty of time to arry out our usual patrols and do a little extra scouting of he rendezvous area in order to make any necessary hanges. However, all work and no play makes for dull officers. Therefore, as duty allows, let’s get cleaned up and make ready for the commodore’s festivities this evening. I hear there are ladies who have made their way here from St. Johns just to say they’ve been in company with some of o
ur randy fellows.”
As the officers were making their way out of the dining area, Anthony overheard a story between Markham, Earl and Gabe. Caleb’s damn ape had walked up behind a tavern wench, and while she was serving drinks the ape lifted the back of her skirt, grabbed her thighs, and stuck his hairy head between her legs. The frightened, screaming girl pulled up the front of her skirt only to see the grinning face of the ape that was still holding onto her thighs. Realizing it wasn’t a man, but not sure what had a hold of her, she attempted to jump up on one of the benches. With all the screaming and dancing around by the girl, the ape lost his hold on her thighs. Reaching for a new handhold, he grabbed her bloomers. However, with the wench still jumping about these fell down to her ankles, tripping her. There she lay face down on the tavern floor with spilled ale everywhere, and her naked arse shining up like a great moon. The whole tavern was a roar. Caleb had to give the poor ape a whole glass of ale to calm it down after the wench had frightened it so. Then they were out, their laughter fading as they headed topside. Anthony and Buck, overwhelmed at what they’d heard, stared at one another.
“The poor ape. What about the wench?” Buck asked. “Damme, sir, but damme. I don’t know,” an awed Anthony replied.
***
Lady Deborah was beautiful, dressed in a bare-shouldered gown of emerald green, which matched her eyes perfectly. She had noticed Anthony’s stare.
“You don’t approve?”
“Ah! The contrare, my darling. If only you knew how magnificent you looked, you’d forgive my stare,” Anthony answered as he allowed a lingering gaze at her splendid bosom.
Deborah pretended to be annoyed. She mildly pinched his arm and whispered, “People are watching!”
“Who cares? God gave me eyes so that I may better appreciate the beauty which he created.”
Flipping her fan to cover her upper chest, Deborah said, “Look upon, yes. Ogle, no. You were ogling, my dear.” Then she tried to hide her smile with the fan. Anthony’s open admiration was something she’d never experienced in her first marriage. She found herself actually excited that Anthony was so blatant about his feelings and desires. She was glad their engagement was now public knowledge. Not that the entire island hadn’t already discussed her love life. She didn’t care, but she didn’t want Anthony to be upset by the gossip.
“Gabe appears to be healing well. He is his old self again,” Deborah commented to change the conversation away from her charms.
“Yes. Caleb is a fine physician. I question his moral fiber, and worry about his influence on Gabe and many of my younger officers. But as bad as Caleb is, his ape is worse. Darling, you wouldn’t believe the mischief it gets into. It’s appalling.”
Again Deborah couldn’t hide her smile as his comment brought to mind the latest gossip. “I heard about the girl in the tavern.”
“You…you’ve heard?” Anthony was flustered.
“Oh yes. The whole island is discussing it. Greta laughed until she cried when she told me.” Trying to control her own laughter, Deborah whispered to Anthony in a husky voice, “I expect I’d holler and scream too if I suddenly found strange hands on my thighs and a hairy head stuck between my legs.”
“Deborah! My word, how you talk!”
“Oh hush. Remember that this is a small island starved for excitement or something that will break the monotony. How many tongues do you think you set to wagging, bedding me when I was supposed to be in mourning? Caleb is a good boy. He’s just not found the right woman to tame him as of yet. I would gladly ignore his womanizing and pranks to have him caring for my people. As for the monkey, I’ll keep my dress down and my legs together.”
Commodore Gardner and Greta were approaching so Anthony was unable to respond to Deborah’s comments.
“Ah, Gil, my friend, how about a glass of hock while it still has a chill on it?” The hock was good. Noting Anthony’s appreciation, Commodore Gardner volunteered, “This is the last of what I got off a merchant from Virginia. He swears it came straight from the Rhine Valley in Hochheim, Germany. It cost a pretty penny but we owe ourselves a few luxuries I’d say, especially since we’re stuck out here in the middle of nowhere as we are. Men die young, while women dry up like old prunes.”
From the sound of Gardner’s conversation he’d had too much of his own hock. Turning toward Deborah, the commodore belched into his fist, and after begging her pardon asked, “Have you had any time with your, uh, deceased husband’s cousin?”
“Nephew. Gregory’s nephew,” Lady Deborah corrected.
“Who?” asked Anthony
“Why, Caleb, you silly man. Didn’t you know Caleb was coming here to visit Gregory and I? He had not been informed of Gregory’s death when the two of you met. Can you guess how shocked he was?” Deborah exclaimed.
It was Anthony who was shocked. No wonder Deborah took up for the man as she had done. “You should have told me,” he muttered, feeling somewhat peeved and embarrassed.
Deborah was gently waving her fan, trying to create enough air to prevent her from perspiring. The night was hot enough, but with all the candles burning the heat was rising. She could also feel a touch of heat from Anthony. Realizing she had angered him by failing to tell of her relations to Caleb, she sought to change the subject to something lighter. With a deft movement of her hand she snapped the fan shut and, using it as a pointer, directed everyone’s attention across the room.
“My, would you look at that?’ Several young ladies who were making much to do over his recent wounds had surrounded Gabe. Most were the daughters of local planters and merchants. To them, Gabe would be the perfect catch. A dashing young officer from a well-to-do family who had already become something of a local hero.
Gabe appeared to be soaking up the attention. His scars seemed to attract more than the usual amount of admiration. For his part, Gabe was doing his best to act the modest, if not reluctant, hero.
“I’d just swoon if I were that age again and a dashing hero like Gabe made eyes at me.”
“Hush, Greta! What you’ll swoon from is that damn corset if you don’t loosen it. You’re already turning pink.”
The little group laughed at the commodore’s remarks to his wife. Then the ladies walked outside to talk, and the commodore went to recharge his glass. As Anthony moved to follow Gardner, he glanced back toward Gabe in time to see one young lass touch the almost healed furrow caused by the pistol ball. As she touched the area, she jerked her hand back suddenly and held it to her breast. It was almost like she’d felt the heat from the pistol ball that had torn a path along Gabe’s temple to the back of his scalp. Yes, Gabe was soaking it up as he should. But Anthony couldn’t help but wonder if Gabe would still be here if the shot had been a little more accurate.
Not one to let their comrade bask in the spotlight by himself, Markham, Earl and Caleb made their way into the small group. After all, Gabe couldn’t handle all these young lasses by himself. He was still healing. Anthony could only imagine the three casting good-natured insults toward Gabe while boastfully bringing attention to their own heroics.
Gardner had returned and offered Anthony a full glass. “What a sight,” he said. “What I’d give to be young again.”
Greta and Deborah had returned and, hearing her husband’s comments, Greta volunteered, “Yes! Young and broke!”
***
After a full evening of festivities, Anthony and Deborah were waiting on their carriage. Buck approached the two, trying not to show his excessive consumption of the commodore’s spirits. Deborah surprised Anthony with her perspicacity when she exclaimed, “Why Mr. Buck. Are you in your cups?”
“Aye, my lady. It’s sorry I am that you’ve seen me in such a state.”
“Well, come on Rupert. We’ll give you a ride down to the quay, and a boat will take you to the ship. You may fall overboard and drown, but at least you won’t fall and break your neck rolling down the hill.”
As Buck was leaving the carriage at the quay, Antho
ny saw Dagan. He was in conversation with a mulatto woman. She was putting coins in her purse, before reaching into a cage and retrieving out a bird. A large, black bird-a raven. Anthony suddenly felt cold. His body gave an involuntary shudder, and a chill went down his spine. His chest felt tight like his breath was suddenly taken away. In his drunken state, Buck, witnessing the action, volunteered, “Looks like Dagan’s done got himself a pet bird.” Anthony was disturbed; a man didn’t purchase a pet bird at two A.M.
Sounding harsher than he meant to, he said, “Drakkar’s a warship, not Noah’s bloody ark. First Caleb’s damn ape, and now Dagan’s bird.” Anthony couldn’t explain to Deborah or Buck how uneasy he felt after seeing Dagan with the raven. “They’d just laugh and say I’m superstitious,” he thought. But still the feeling remained, like a phantom in his soul. The old servant’s comments were still sharp in Anthony’s memory. “‘E talks to the ravens, sir. Aye, I’ve seen him do it.”
Chapter Eighteen
The Shark returned to English Harbour five days after she’d weighed anchor. Anthony felt an uneasiness lift when the lookout reported Shark’s sighting. Pope and Gabe would be coming aboard soon with their scouting report, so there was no need to signal “repair on board.” For that matter, there was no need for Gabe or Pope to realize how anxious he was to get this rendezvous matter settled.
“Silas!”
“Aye, sir.”
“See if you can get a little chill on some of that hock Commodore Gardner gave me. “There might be an occasion to broach a bottle.”
“They’s a couple bottles in the bilges now, sir. I’m sure they’d be just right for drinkin. I’ll go fetch ‘em meself, I will.” Silas didn’t need to be told what the “occasion” was. He’d heard of Shark’s sighting like everyone else.
Bart had it right enough when he said, “Cap’n’s quite taken with young Mister Anthony.” Silas had only seen Admiral Anthony on one occasion, but the young Mister Anthony looked much like him. Could this be the reason for his master’s feelings? Bart had also made the comment when Anthony had raised his broad pendant: “Us’ll have another Admiral or two in the family, Silas. You just mark me words.”