The Seahorse

by Michael Aye

  A knock on the door caught Anthony off guard and made him jump as he’d been reaching for the knob when the knock occurred.

  “Jittery, ain’t yew,” Bart said.

  “Hush, damn you.”

  “There ye go again taking out yews nerves on a poor jack tar.”

  Bart then opened the door to find Gabe standing there. He thumped at Gabe’s shiny epaulette.

  “How long you reckon that swab’ll stay shiny?”

  “About as long as those new buttons I say,” Gabe replied. “Damn if they wouldn’t make a fine target.”

  “We’s already been a target,” Bart said.

  “So I’ve heard.” Then turning to Anthony, Gabe said, “Any thoughts on who may be behind this?”

  “No,” Anthony answered. “I wish I did. Then we’d be on an equal footing.”

  Reaching into his coat pocket, Gabe took out a letter. “This arrived this morning from Dagan. Look at the date.”

  The letter had been written over two months ago. Dagan was fine, he’d enjoyed his visit with Uncle Andrea, and Caleb was going to marry Catherine. Then the last paragraph…the interesting part: “I feel dark days ahead. Days filled with danger for all of us.” He went on to say he’d arranged passage with a merchantman and would meet the squadron in Barbados. Gabe could see the surprise on Anthony’s face.

  “How did he know?”

  Gabe only shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

  “How does he always know?” Bart said, more a statement than a question. “He does and that’s all that matters, I’m thinkin.”

  “You’re right,” Anthony replied, then reached for the door. “Let’s not keep our guests waiting.

  ***

  The evening meal progressed nicely. Lord Ragland, as the guest of honour, sat on Anthony’s right with Captain Buck on the left. The rest were seated not by seniority but according to the first available chair. This was as planned.

  Thomas Fletcher was in command of the sixty-four gun, Intrepid, which had just completed a three month overhaul. He had been in command of the ship for three years and had until recently been stationed at Gibraltar.

  Francis Markham, who was a good friend and old shipmate, had just been given command of the squadron’s other frigate, Dasher. Markham’s father was a vice admiral so Anthony was sure his appointment had a lot to do with that. Not that he wasn’t a good officer…he was. He and Gabe had been friends since they were mids together on Drakkar. He’d once been Anthony’s flag lieutenant. He was a reliable man and Anthony was glad to have him.

  Ambrose Taylor and Hayward Hallett, as was Jem Jackson, were lieutenants with their first commands. All three had good records as first lieutenants and had sterling recommendations. Jem Jackson was another proven commodity. Anthony was sure the ketch, Viper, would be well commanded. The Alert and Ferret were as new as the lieutenants who commanded them. We’ll see how they measure up.

  As the meal was finished and cigars and pipes were lit, Lord Ragland stood up. “Gentlemen, it has been a pleasant evening, but the morrow promises to be filled with government bureaucracy, so I bid you goodnight with a final toast. To wives and sweethearts...may they never meet.”

  This brought whoops and laughter, as Ragland knew it would. Soon the captains thanked their host and made their way back to their ships. Bart had ducked out earlier and made sure each of the boat crews had a wet to keep them warm. As he returned he overheard Gabe’s offer for Anthony and Bart to stay at his mother’s home.

  “When Deborah arrives we will, but for now I’ll stay here. I think I’ll be safe. Bart will be here.”

  That’s no error, Bart thought. He’ll be as safe as I can make him.

  ***

  The Admiral’s barge was now in sight of HMS SeaHorse…Lord Anthony’s new flagship. Anthony could already see men moving about. They were dressed in navy blue and the scarlet red of the marines. Soon he’d be back in his world. Then eyeing Bart he changed his thought…our world.

  The barge’s bow hit a small rogue wave and it caused the barge to veer to larboard momentarily.

  “Careful,” Bart whispered, his hand on Anthony’s arm for balance. “They’re watching.”

  That’s Bart, always at my side, always looking out for me. What would he do without Bart? What would England do without all the Barts in the Navy? They were the real backbone of the fleet.

  “She flies pretty today,” Bart said, pointing to Lord Anthony’s flag flapping away at the mizzenmast.

  The bowman stood as they were now almost alongside SeaHorse, his boats hook at the ready.

  Tom Blood, Buck’s cox’n, was at the tiller and he eased it over slightly. “Ready bowman,” he bellowed. The oars were tossed and Blood removed his hat.

  Anthony looked at the cox’n with a quick smile on his face. “Thank you, Blood. That was done handsomely.”

  Blood caught a glimpse of Bart, who nodded his approval. “Smart turnout,” Bart said.

  Tucking his sword behind his leg so he wouldn’t trip, Anthony then waited for the swell to lift the bow of the barge. He leaped as Buck looked down anxiously waiting until he saw his admiral climbing up the side. Anthony made his way into the entry port as the marines came to attention. With a slap and click of muskets they presented arms.

  Bayonets glinted in the morning sun. The morning stillness was broken with the sound of “Heart of Oak” by the drums and fifes. Buck was there smiling from ear to ear. Anthony noticed the smells first—friendly smells to a sailor—tar, oakum, paint, new canvas…the smells of a ship.

  Glancing about the deck Anthony was impressed. The crew was nicely turned out. The cannons with all their tackles and gear were in perfect alignment. The decks were immaculate. The sails were tightly furled with snug gaskets. He expected nothing less and apparently neither did Buck.

  “I’m impressed, Rupert,” Anthony said, using Buck’s given name. “It’s a fine ship.”

  Then as they walked toward his cabin, Anthony paused here and there speaking to familiar faces. Lieutenant Lamb, now Buck’s first lieutenant, the bosun, May, Marine Captain Dunlap and his second in command of the Marines, Lieutenant Bevis. Then as Anthony walked aft he stopped and turned. He recognized that face, older and more filled out and weather-beaten.

  “George Jepson,” he said. “Is that you?”

  “Aye, My Lord.”

  Stepping back he eyed the man. It had been a lot of years. Jepson had just made master’s mate and Anthony was a young lieutenant. He and Bart had been mates. Now here Jepson was wearing the uniform of a warrant. Not just a warrant but also the master of HMS SeaHorse.

  “Well, damme. Where’s Bart? Off loafing, no doubt.” Looking toward the entry port Anthony could see Bart helping his flag lieutenant. Instantly he regretted his words.

  Everett Hazard had turned into an excellent flag lieutenant, in spite of having only one arm. The other arm was lost in combat. Turning back to Jepson he shook his hand.

  “Captain Buck, you have a life saver as your master. A squall would have taken me over the side but for the strong arm of your master. Yes sir, without Jepson’s quick action it would have been another admiral hoisting his flag here today, for I’d be keeping company with ole Davy Jones.”

  “It was nothing, sir,” Jepson said, uncomfortable with the attention he was being given by the admiral.

  Seeing Jepson flush, Anthony changed tacks. “Now let me warn you in advance, Captain Buck. He and Bart were as close as mates could be once so I know the trouble they can get into. It’s your ship mind you,” Anthony continued, “but were it up to me I’d have Captain Dunlap post an extra sentry at the spirit locker.”

  This caused all those in hearing distance to laugh.

  “Jep, you old salt.” Bart had finally made his way aft and recognized his old mate. “Ye still smoking those stinking cigars?”

  By way of answering, Jep just tapped his coat.

  “Good…good. Let me get ’is Lordship settled in and we’ll h
ave a smoke and a wet.”

  Hearing this Anthony looked at Buck. “Did I not warn you?”

  “Aye, My Lord, you did. It’s trouble we have in the making. Maybe we should send ashore for a new master.”

  “Look for a good cox’n while you’re at it.”

  Turning, Anthony ducked beneath the deck head beams. A marine sentry had already been posted. Anthony nodded to the sentry and entered the stern cabin.

  “Silas and his assistant are already on board,” Buck volunteered. “As is your secretary, LeMatt.”

  Anthony nodded as he looked about. SeaHorse was larger than Warrior had been. He had a spacious dining table. His desk and wine cabinet had been transferred as had a side cabinet.

  Seeing Anthony and Buck enter the cabin, Silas waited until Anthony caught his gaze. “A glass of hock, My Lord, or maybe a cup of coffee?”

  Seeing Buck smile, Anthony said, “Our flag captain would prefer a cup of your coffee, I believe.”

  A knock and the stamp of the marine sentry’s musket made Anthony jump. He’d have Bart inform the sentry of his requirements directly.

  “Flag lieutenant, suh,” the marine announced.

  “Yes, yes,” Anthony grumbled.

  Once in the cabin, Hazard said enthusiastically, “Bloke if ever there was one.”

  “Come on in and have a cup of coffee. I’ll have Bart talk to the sergeant.”

  Sitting down Hazard handed several papers over to Anthony. There was also a sealed dispatch bag and several individual letters. “It appears, sir, a convoy is being put together at Plymouth and we’ve been given the task of escorting them to the Indies.”

  “Damme,” Buck swore. “I was going to put Seahorse through her courses and see what kind of sailor she is.”

  The three talked on over coffee and finally the subject of the master came up.

  “He and Bart were still standing under the poop deck when I came in,” Hazard said. “Catching up on old times.”

  “I tried to find Jep when I made captain but he was away at sea,” Anthony said.

  “He has blue eyes.”

  “What was that?” Buck asked.

  “His eyes,” Hazard repeated. “Did you ever see such blue eyes?”

  “I’ve seen them when they were cold blue,” Anthony said. “Not a man I’d cross when he’s mad. Jet black hair and blue eyes, a ladies’ man till you rile him.”

  “I’ll bet he and Bart were a handful,” Buck said.

  “Aye, I could tell you a few stories about them but there is not another two I’d rather have beside me when the metal is flying.”

  “’Cept maybe Dagan.”

  “Aye,” Anthony agreed. “’Cept maybe Dagan.”

  “Well, it’ll do Bart good to have an old mate around to swap sea stories with,” Buck said.

  “That it will, Captain, that it will,” Anthony replied.

  Chapter Nine

  A sudden gale was making life for the sailors miserable. Lord Anthony’s squadron was now gathered in Hamoaze, a sheltered deep water estuary, off Plymouth. The squadron gathered here in order to escort the Plymouth convoy to the Caribbean. A pounding rain beat against the tarpaulin jackets of those officers and men whose duties kept them on deck.

  Captain Buck was en route to the Port Admiral’s office for a conference with the ship captains who would make up the convoy. Jepson, the master, had predicted a blow by mid-afternoon and had recommended Buck break out his foul weather jacket. Unfortunately, Buck failed to follow the master’s recommendation.

  Damn Jep, Buck thought as rain pelted his sodden uniform. He’s always right.

  Tom Blood, Buck’s cox’n, had taken the master’s advice and had his tarpaulin within reach when the rain started…not a cable’s length from SeaHorse. He had offered it to his captain, who out of concern for his cox’n, or out of stubborness, had refused it. Well, they still had a long pull yet.

  On board SeaHorse, Bart and Jep squatted in a corner under the poop just aft of the wheel and puffed on their pipes. “’E’s a good sort, better ’n most yew find,” Bart said, talking about Buck. “I knowed ’im when ’e was jus a lieutenant. ’E’s been with ’is Lordship off ’n on ever since. We’s been through some pretty tough scrapes together and ’e’s always held his own. Course we’s taught ’im right we did…me and ’is Lordship. Same as we did Gabe,” Bart added.

  Meriweather, the fourth lieutenant, had the watch. He had been tempted to order the two gossiping old salts off the deck but knew it wasn’t wise to order the master to do anything. Lamb, the first lieutenant, had given a warning in regards to the admiral’s cox’n. “If you don’t want to spend the rest of your life on the beach, tread lightly around Bart.” Well, Meriweather decided, he’d take Lamb’s advice.

  “Lieutenant Meriweather!” The call came just as the lieutenant passed by the poop. “Lieutenant!”

  Turning, Meriweather could see it was Bart motioning for him. Not sure how to respond to an “inferior” summoning him, he paused a second, then when Bart waved again, he ducked under the edge of the poop.

  “Come take a breath out of the rain,” Bart said.

  “I’m the duty officer.”

  “It’s still raining.”

  “But I might be needed.”

  “They’ll cry out for you. That’s what you got watch standers for. ’Sides Captain Buck won’t like it if the glass gets fogged up.”

  “But I have the duty!”

  “It’s still raining…it’s going to fog up.”

  “But I’m supposed to tote the glass when I have duty.”

  “Well,” Bart said, taking a deep breath, “keep under the poop lessen yews called and then stick it under your tarp.”

  “Thank you, that’s a good idea.”

  Jep, having remained silent while Bart was talking to the lieutenant, spoke. “This will clear before the first dog watch. You can have a glass of warm brandy when you go down to eat. That’ll keep the misery out of your bones.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Boat ahoy was heard, so Meriweather sighed, tucked the glass under his tarp then rushed to the entry port.

  “’E ’as the makins I’m thinking,” Bart said.

  “Aye,” Jep agreed. “At least ’e had sense enough to get out of the rain.”

  ***

  Buck was soaking wet when he returned to the flagship. He changed uniforms in preparation to report to Lord Anthony.

  A gentle knock then the marine sentry called, “Flag captain, suh.”

  “Come in, come in.”

  “I guess Bart talked with the marine sergeant,” Buck volunteered.

  Smiling, Anthony said, “Pleasant, wasn’t it?”

  “Aye,” Buck replied. “Bart usually gets his point across.”

  “How did the meeting go?” Anthony asked, knowing from past experience what the answer would be.

  “Well enough for a bunch of grocery captains who whine about having no protection. Then they whine some more when told they can’t sail independently and have to comply with signals and instructions.”

  Without asking, Silas walked into the cabin and handed Buck a glass of wine. “Another glass, My Lord?”

  “No thank you, Silas. Has the weather cleared?” Anthony asked. He’d been informed by Bart that Buck had not bothered to get a tarpaulin before leaving the ship. He then was caught in the downpour in his gig.

  “Aye, it’s cleared.”

  Buck then scooted his chair a bit closer to Anthony’s so he could be heard as he whispered, “Forgot my damn jacket and was too stubborn to send a young gentleman to fetch it. So there I was standing like a drowned rat. A puddle was gathering around my feet as I tried to explain sailing instructions to the convoy captains. Made a poor show of it I did.”

  “Well don’t beat yourself up too much. There’s not a sailor alive who hasn’t got caught in a squall at one time or another.”

  Hearing voices, Lady Deborah stepped out of the sleeping quarters after
making sure her husband was not involved in, as he put it, admiralty business. She and Macayla had come aboard the night before the squadron had weighed anchor at Portsmouth. Seeing Lady Deborah, Buck rose to greet her but she waved him down.

  She stood behind Anthony, hands on his shoulders, and asked, “Did you invite the good captain to dine this evening?”

  “I was about to, my dear.” Anthony looked at Buck. “If you have no other commitment, Rupert, we would be happy to have you dine with us. I’ve also invited Gabe and Faith. Lord Ragland has also been invited. Once at sea we may not have a chance to do so until we reach Antigua.”

  “Thank you, My Lord, Lady Deborah. I’d be honoured. Will Gabe bring Lum?”

  “I asked Faith to bring him along if Lum didn’t mind,” Deborah spoke up. “So we will see.”

  ***

  Gabe leaned against the weather rigging and adjusted his glass until the flagship came into focus. The vessels in the convoy made an impressive sight, he thought, with their pyramids of sail filling the early dawn sky. The sun had slowly clawed its way up until it was full on the horizon.

  No red sky this morning, he thought, his mind on the old sailor’s saying...red sky in the morning, sailor’s warning; red sky at night, sailor’s delight.

  Last night had been a delight. He had recalled the lovemaking he and Faith had enjoyed. After he and Faith had dined aboard the flagship he had explained to his bride that there would be a slim chance of dining together again with Gil and Deborah until they reached landfall.

  “So it’ll just be the two of us?” Faith asked.

  “No, we’ll invite the ship’s officers from time to time but for the most part it’ll just be us,” Gabe replied.

  “I could get greedy very quickly,” Faith said.

  “I won’t mind,” Gabe had replied.

  He had considered having Faith travel back aboard the flagship, but once Nathan Lavery, Davy, and the warrant officers had arrived, things had turned around quickly. He was glad he’d decided to keep Lieutenant Wiley. He had done a splendid job thus far and he had the respect and trust of Peregrine’s crew…those that hadn’t run.