by Michael Aye
“Yes,” Anthony replied. “I’m to turn Drakkar over to Pope. He’s been made captain.”
“That’s a lot of ship for his first command as a captain,” Gardner said. “Mine was a old sixth rate twenty-eight gun frigate, and I felt lucky to get her.”
“Aye. I remember my first. But Pope has commanded a cutter and a brig. He was first lieutenant on a first rate, and he’s showed good judgment since he’s been with me. I think he’ll do fine. He can keep Steven Earl as his first lieutenant, if he desires. Earl has just about grown up on Drakkar, and he’s been taught well by Lieutenant Buck and old Peckham.”
“Speaking of Buck, why did they not make him captain and give him Drakkar?” Gardner quizzed. “He surely deserves it, and he certainly knows the ship.”
“That puzzles me as well,” Anthony admitted. “My reports strongly recommended Buck for captain and a command. Pope is senior, but Buck should have been made captain long ago. He probably would have, had he not been so loyal to me. This was our second commission together with him as my first lieutenant. At any rate, he’s to return to England and report to the admiralty. I hope they have a ship for him.”
“What about you?” Gardner asked.
“I’m to return to England as well, where I’m to report to Lord Sandwich at my earliest convenience.”
“You’re taking Lady Deborah, I’m sure,” Gardner commented. “And if she takes a couple of maids, your party will be too big for the packet.”
“Yes, I know,” Anthony said. “I was thinking of having Gabe take us in the ketch Shark. It’ll be cramped and rough, but we’ll be a private ship.” Anthony then looked at his friend and knew he’d miss him. What have you decided?” Anthony asked.
“I haven’t yet,” Gardner replied. “There’s sure to be another Admiral take command of the station, and I doubt he’ll be as genteel as Sir Lawrence was.”
“You may be placed in command of a squadron, or maybe even given your flag,” Anthony said, trying to be optimistic for his friend.
“No, I’m too long behind a desk to be given a squadron. I’ve been in the Indies too long to have enough influence to even be considered for anything important. No, I’ll stay as dockyard commissioner as long as they’ll let me. The truth is that before the hostilities erupted I was going to retire from government service, move to Virginia in the colonies, and go into shipping with a friend. But now who knows?”
***
London was hustling, and Lady Deborah was astonished at the pace of things. The voyage back to England had been very pleasant and uneventful. When Anthony and Gabe returned to the admiralty for their appointment there was a definite change. The lazy ho-hum attitude had been replaced with a sense of urgency. Gabe didn’t seem so overwhelmed as he did that first trip. He was older now-a lieutenant and a mature, seasoned officer. A veteran of several ship to ship actions, and he carried the scars to prove it. There were admirals here in Whitehall who hadn’t seen the action that Gabe had. Anthony had noticed some of the looks they’d received upon entering the admiralty. Gabe’s black hair now had a long narrow strip of gray where a bullet had grazed his scalp. Anthony knew Gabe was sensitive about “his streak.” Deborah had told him it made him look not only handsome, but also mysterious and romantic. Overhearing the comment, Caleb had let out a groan and stated, “God woman, don’t give him anymore reason to lord his prowess over us mortals.”
One of the clerks greeted Anthony and Gabe, and assured them the first lord would be with them directly. As soon as the clerk was out of earshot, Gabe whispered to Anthony, “‘Cept for the glasses, don’t he favor Caleb’s ape?”
Anthony’s burst of laughter caused stares from other officers. But damme if Gabe wasn’t right. The resemblance was there. The clerk returned quickly, somewhat disturbed by Anthony’s chuckling. The clerk was used to a more somber attitude from those officers who entered this hallowed place.
“The First Lord will see you now,” the clerk said as he directed Anthony and Gabe to Lord Sandwich’s Office.
“Gil! How nice to see you again. And you as well Gabe. Well Gil, you’ve done your duty as I knew you would. In this time of gloom you’ve been my ray of sunshine. I knew you were the man to handle those pirates. Your deeds have not gone unnoticed. That I promise you. Nor have yours, Gabe,” the First Lord added.
Turning, Lord Sandwich bid a clerk to come forward. “This gentlemen is Evan Nepean. He is my head clerk. I don’t know what I’d do without him. He has orders for both of you that you can sign for before you leave. But first I want to chat a while and fill you in on what’s awaiting you. I’ve already told you I’m proud of both of you. My political light doesn’t shine as it once did. But I want you both to know if I can ever be of service to either of you, all you have to do is call upon me. The papers have been full of stories of your engagements and triumphs. The papers call you the ‘Fighting Anthonys.’ I can’t count the times you’ve made the Gazette. There’s even wagering at the club as to how fat your purses have grown.”
Sensing Anthony’s need to say something modest, the First Lord waved his hand. “Nay, Nay. Don’t be concerned.
“It’s good. A man should be rewarded for his pains. And by the bye, I almost forgot, not only did you capture a bunch of damn pirates but also I hear you’ve succeeded in capturing a lovely lady’s heart. Here’s my hand in congratulations. I look forward to meeting her.”
‘‘Thank you, my Lord,’’ Anthony replied, sensing the formalities were over and it was now time for business.
“I know you both are aware that we are now at war with the colonies. Several senior officers have chosen not to fight their American cousins. Lord Keppel is among them. Truth be known, I’m not sure I blame them, the way Lord North is running things. However, so many senior officers retiring rather than fighting has in some ways been a blessing. We are now able to promote several deserving officers into commands that otherwise would have been difficult.” Having said this, Lord Sandwich walked over to Anthony and said, “Let me be the first to congratulate you on your promotion to Rear Admiral. I know your father would have been as proud as I am. On your recommendation we’ve promoted Buck to captain and he’s been given command of Merlin, a thirty-two gun frigate. Merlin will be under your flag. Her previous captain is one of those that decided he’d pursue parliament rather than fight the colonials. In regards to Buck, I know you would have liked to have him as your flag captain, but he was too junior to command a ship of the line. Your flagship will be the Warrior. She’s a seventy-four that was launched in 1770 at Chatham. She has just undergone complete overhaul and refitting. She’s awaiting you at Portsmouth. Her captain is an old friend of yours, Dutch Moffitt. A hellish fine officer who will hoist his own flag some day.
“Now for you, my young firebrand,” Lord Sandwich said directing his attention to Gabe. “We have in fact captured a privateer, the SeaWolf. The Americans originally planned her as a slaver, but before she was completed she was converted to a privateer. She was to be a predator as her name invokes. She is a sleek ship I’m told, and mounts sixteen guns. Normally, such a vessel would go to one more senior. However, few lieutenants have seen the action you have, and at this point in time England needs experienced officers to make up for inept politicians. Admiral, Lieutenant, I shan’t detain you any longer. You have my faith and trust. You’ll do your duty as you always have. I know I can count on you. Pick up your orders from Evan on your way out. Now be off with you. Go celebrate with your wife and families, then report to your commands as directed by your orders.”
WE HAVE A WAR TO FIGHT!
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to George Jepson formerly of Tall Ships Books for always leading me to the right research material and for a world of encouragement.
To Charles White, editor and publisher, for taking the time to talk to a “wanna be,” and always challenging me, while never allowing me to get away with mediocrity.
To Tracy Bridges for encouragement and
taking the time to critique a very rough manuscript and being honest.
This book is dedicated to a very special lady who spent countless hours poring through hundreds of page of longhand, scratch and strike-outs to put together a manuscript that could be reviewed, then corrected my errors and provided a finished product. Without her labors it would all be still a dream. This book is for her. She made it possible.
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