The Seahorse

by Michael Aye

  Lum had spoken to one of the old crew in passing. The seaman replied, “Things lookin up, not a flogging in a week.”

  “Deck thar,” called the mainmast lookout. “Strange sails off the larboard bow.”

  “You have a good lookout, Mr Lavery.”

  “Aye, Captain,” the first lieutenant replied.

  Unable to find the ship in his glass Gabe called to Midshipman Ally, “Signal flagship strange sail in sight.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Mr Lavery.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “Call all hands. I’ve a feeling about me.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “When we are able to identify her or we have a signal from the flagship call me. I shall now go break my fast.”

  As Gabe ducked his head and started down the companionway, he could hear the shrill twitter of the bosun’s pipes calling all hands. That ought to wake Faith, he thought…the sleepyhead.

  ***

  Gabe had just sat down to a cup of coffee when the marine sentry knocked. “Midshipman Ally, sir.”

  Gabe smiled to himself. Even the marines were now calling Alejandro Ally.

  “Mr Lavery’s respects, sir. Flag has signaled: investigate strange sail.”

  “Thank you, Mr Alejandro,” Gabe said, using the boy’s name. It wouldn’t do for the captain to use nicknames. “Now tell me, are you still satisfied with your decision to be a sailor?”

  “Oh si…I mean aye sir. I would want to do nothing else.”

  “Very well. Now go tell the first lieutenant I will be up directly.”

  Gabe had yet to finish his coffee when he could feel the ship turning on a course to intercept the strange sail. Lavery was a good first lieutenant. He had taken the initiative to comply with admiral’s orders. Just like Jem Jackson would have done.

  Finishing his coffee, Gabe paused on his way out of the cabin to look toward his sleeping quarters. She was still asleep. Another thing they had in common, he thought as he left the cabin and headed on deck…we’re both hard risers.

  Before Gabe could make his way to the quarterdeck the lookout called down, “She’s changed tack sir, hauling her wind I’d say.”

  “I’ll go,” Lieutenant Davy volunteered, seeing the expression that came across Gabe’s face as he appeared on deck.

  Within minutes Davy was back on deck. “She’s a large ship, sir. The size of a large frigate, but she has hauled her wind right enough.”

  “That’s puzzling,” Gabe said. “I thought she might be a merchantman wanting to sail along with the convoy.”

  “That she may be,” Gunnells volunteered. “There’s safety in numbers.”

  “I don’t think so,” Davy spoke again. “In truth she looks like some of the Jonathan ships we’ve tangled with. Like a large privateer.”

  “Makes sense,” Gabe said. “She could keep a close watch on the convoy then pounce on a straggler.”

  “Like in a squall,” Gunnells added.

  “Or at night.” This from Lieutenant Wiley.

  “You’ve got something there,” Gabe acknowledged. “Mr Lavery, once we are close with the squadron make a signal to flag requesting permission to close within hailing distance.”

  ***

  The attack came suddenly and from an unexpected quarter. After two days with no sightings everyone seemed to have relaxed. The sun was going down and the sky had a reddish purple haze.

  “Deck thar, signal from Alert…strange sail to larboard.”

  “Relay to flag,” Gabe said, immediately a sinking feeling in his gut. “Lum!”

  “Aye Cap’n.”

  “Escort Mrs. Anthony and Nanny below.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  “What is it, Gabe?” Faith asked.

  “Shh, Missy Faith,” Lum said. “Mistuh Gabe got to be the cap’n of this heah ship right now. He ain’t got no time foh your questions.”

  “Deck thar,” the lookout called down again. “The ship is on a converging tack to attack Alert.”

  “Damme,” Gabe said, looking at the sky. “They’ll never see a signal in this light. Mr Lavery!”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “Fire off two red flares. That was the signal enemy in sight. Then beat to quarters.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “Gunfire, sir!” Lieutenant Wiley exclaimed.

  “Aye. I heard it,” Gabe responded.

  “Alert’s under fire,” the excited lookout called down.

  “You were right,” Lavery said. “Privateers, by God.”

  “No,” Gabe answered. “Davy was right.”

  “Flares from the flagship, sir, two white.”

  That meant “acknowledge.” No instructions. What instructions can she give? Gabe thought to himself.

  “Mr Gunnells, put us on a course to intercept yonder ship.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  The gunfire was clearer now. Gabe raised his glass but could see nothing in the dying light except the flash of cannons. He shut his glass with a snap. “Mr Lavery, I’m going up for a better look.”

  “Aye,” was all the first lieutenant had time to say. He was used to his captain doing the unexpected.

  Once he made it to the mainmast lookout, he could see better.

  “It be a big un, Cap’n,” the lookout said as he made room for Gabe.

  “Aye,” Gabe snarled. “A wolf after a pup.”

  Ambrose Taylor, the captain of AlertI, was no fool. He was under full sail and zigzagging as much as he could to make it difficult for the bigger ship to bring her under good aim. The privateer was firing bow chasers.

  If luck held out Peregrine would be able to intervene before the privateer’s broadsides would be able to bear. As Gabe turned to step onto a ratline he saw something…a speck in the distance.

  Stepping back up onto the platform he hissed, “Two ships! Close in company!”

  He handed his glass to the lookout then cupped his hands and shouted, “Deck there! Two more sails aft. The last merchantman, she’s under attack.”

  Gabe slid down a backstay and dropped on deck, his hands burning from his rapid descent. “Fire off several red flares and be damn quick about,” he ordered.

  “Mr Druett!”

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  “Get the bow chasers into action as soon as possible.”

  “Aye, Cap’n,” the gunner replied then rushed off.

  “What a bloody scoundrel,” Lavery said. “Attacking Alert.”

  “It’s a decoy I’d bet,” Wiley volunteered. “Something to keep us busy. They knew we’d react to them attacking a smaller ship. Then once our attention is diverted they set the wolves loose upon the lambs.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Gabe said.

  “Sorry sir,” Wiley said. “I didn’t know you were within hearing.”

  “I was and I agree.”

  BOOM!...BOOM!...the bow chasers recoiled against the tackles as they were fired.

  “Damme but Druett knows his business, Captain,” Lavery volunteered. “They fired quickly enough.”

  Smoke from the bow chasers drifted down wind, filling the air with the stench of gunpowder.

  From above the lookout called down, “She’s broken off, sir. The privateer ’as come about.”

  “Thank God,” Gabe said.

  Druett made his way to the quarterdeck. “I couldn’t tell if we hit anything Cap’n but we gave it our best try.”

  Alert was now almost up with Peregrine.

  “Hear that Mr Druett? They’re cheering you over there. So whether you hit the whoresons or not you scared them off. I’m betting there’s many a soul on yonder ship who’d stand for you a wet.”

  Embarrassed by the captain’s praise, Druett said, “It weren’t nothing Cap’n. Course if they’re willing to buy, I’m willing to drink.”

  Standing to the side, Lieutenant Wiley heard the exchange. This captain was different, he thought. The admiral was right. I’m glad I stayed, he realized.


  Chapter Ten

  The island of Antigua seemed to rise up over the horizon with the early dawn light. The cry of “land ho” quickened everyone’s step. Even Faith had shook the cobwebs from her sleepy head and made her way topside still bundled up with a thick robe. It had been two weeks since the clash with the privateers and eight weeks since they weighed anchor at Plymouth.

  The privateers’ raid had been unsuccessful. Dasher had run down the privateers, capturing one, an old twenty-eight-gun frigate, and run off the other ship. The frigate, HMS Lizard, had been captured by the Colonies off Marblehead in 1776. Now she was back with the fleet—hopefully, a part of Anthony’s squadron.

  Antigua, Gabe had explained to Faith, was headquarters for the British Navy in the West Indies. It was here his brother and Lady Deborah had met and married. It had been a good time for him to get to know his brother as well. Deborah, he explained, held vast holdings here. This would be where she would stay with Deborah, at least until they found out how things were in Barbados.

  As the island grew on the horizon Gabe realized he was glad to be back. He had missed the fellowship with the island’s people who had opened their homes for all of “Lord Anthony’s sailors” back in 1775. He looked forward to seeing Commodore Gardner and his wife, Greta. He smiled when he thought of Greta. How many times had she tried to play cupid for the young gentlemen and set them up with the young ladies? That was something he wouldn’t share with Faith, he decided.

  He’d already been given her glare when some well-endowed young lady caused his head to turn. “Get an eyeful?” she’d asked in a most unfriendly manner. He still looked but had learned to be discreet. If God hadn’t wanted him to look upon such beauty he wouldn’t have made it, Gabe thought. However, it was a thought he kept to himself.

  ***

  “Congratulations on a perfect landfall, Captain.”

  “Thank you, My Lord.”

  “Deck there! Ship of the line anchored off the headland.”

  “That will be the flagship, no doubt,” Buck said.

  “Aye,” Anthony replied. “It will be almost like homecoming, will it not, Captain?”

  “Aye, My Lord, my mind traveled that same road. I wonder if a certain widow lady is still a widow.”

  This caused Anthony to chuckle. “I’m sure you’ll find out, Captain, I’m sure you’ll find out.”

  As the flagship rounded Cape Shirley, Anthony watched the men not on watch as they crowded the weather side. Some of them were clinging to the shrouds to get a better view.

  “A pretty island is it not?” This coming from Lord Ragland. He had been a good traveling companion. He had dined with Anthony and Lady Deborah most evenings, along with Captain Buck. They had played cards frequently, always arguing who would have Lady Deborah as a partner. Her skill as a card player amazed Anthony.

  “If we ever get short of funds,” he joked, “we’ll invite the gentry over so you can fleece them.”

  English Harbour is much hillier than I thought,” Ragland said. “I’d expected it to be flat.”

  “Barbados will be,” Anthony explained.

  “There’s the flagship,” Bart said as he approached the group. “Gunports are open; they’ve a captain what cares about ’is men.”

  “I don’t understand,” Ragland said.

  “It gets very hot and humid here so the tar will actually stick to your feet walking across the deck. Below decks can be unbearable. Therefore it’s best for the men to rig awnings across the quarterdeck and by opening the gunports you can sometimes catch a good offshore breeze.”

  “I see.”

  “Mr Lamb.” Buck called to his first lieutenant.

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “Prepare the salute.” As an afterthought he added, “Clear those idlers off the side. This is a man o’ war, not some grocery barge.”

  Ragland nudged Anthony and smiled.

  Seeing the smile Bart said, “Wonder who ’e got that from?”

  No sooner had the eleven-gun salute ended when the lookout called down again, “Looks like a harbour full o’ ships at anchor.”

  Taking his glass, Buck steadied himself and looked, calling out what he saw. “Three Frenchmen. One of the monsieurs is flying a rear admiral’s flag. There’s two Spaniards. The harbour is full. Lighters and other craft plying back and forth.”

  “Spying, damme, they know they’re about to take up with the Colonies. So they’re taking advantage of the neutrality to see what our strengths are, what convoys arrive, and where they go from here. They’re not fooling me. Damn them I say and the Dagos with them.”

  Anthony had never seen Lord Ragland so exasperated.

  “’E can be a fireball ’e can,” Bart said, summoning up the incident. “Wonder ’e don’t ’ave us loosen a broadside here and now to get it over like.”

  “Aye,” Anthony agreed. “If we were in Barbados he might.”

  ***

  The next week was one of reunions, a quickly thrown together reception for Lord Ragland and Lord Anthony. The French Admiral Jacques de Guimond along with his Flag Captain Riguad Devereux had also been invited for the reception. The French admiral had been somewhat reserved. He was very polite and diplomatic, refusing to be drawn into discussion in regards to the war with the Colonies. His comments were, “As you know, m’sieur, we are a neutral country.”

  The day after the reception had taken place, Lord Anthony received a message from Lord Ragland requesting his presence. Anthony and Deborah were sitting on the veranda of the summer cottage where they had first made love. Deborah was saying the cottage was just the right size for her and Faith. There was also plenty of room for Nanny…and Lum if he chose to stay. Bart…Uncle Bart had just come to the door holding Macayla when the rider arrived.

  It didn’t take long for two horses to be saddled for Anthony and Bart to ride down the hill to English Harbour. Halfway down the hill Bart surprised Anthony with a sudden comment.

  “Iffen we’s ever beached, this wouldn’t be a bad spot for it to happen.”

  Anthony had never really considered any life but the sea. But Bart had struck a chord. “You’re right old friend. It would be easy to live out our days here.”

  “Like Commodore Gardner and ’is wife,” Bart said.

  “Aye, like Commodore Gardner.”

  After a pause, Bart then added, “But not yet.”

  “No, not yet…after the war maybe but not yet.”

  ***

  Government House stood at the top of the coast road only a hundred yards or so from where a launch was tied up, bobbing with the swell. Admiral Henry Teach was in the process of getting in a carriage for a quick trip up the hill.

  A footman took Anthony’s and Bart’s horses while they made their way into the elegant, white building. Ground seashells crunched under their feet as they quickly walked down the path leading to the deep porch. The shade of the porch would offer relief from the sun’s fierce rays.

  A marine sergeant welcomed Lord Anthony but was not sure about Bart. Anthony looked at the sergeant and said, “Please find a suitable place for my cox’n to wait along with some cool refreshment.”

  The marine gaped, not sure how to respond. Finally he muttered, “Lord Ragland awaits you, sir,” pointing to what had once been Gardner’s old office. Then taking Bart in tow he made his way down a hall.

  Anthony had barely the time to accept a glass of hock from one of the servants when Sir Henry showed up. Once the two admirals were seated with a glass, Lord Ragland opened a door to an adjoining room and a short, stocky individual entered. He was dressed much as a naval officer but without the apparent rank insignias.

  “Gentlemen,” Ragland began, “let me introduce you to Sir Victor MacNeil. He is from his Majesty’s Foreign Office. He has documents with him signed by Lord North that requires us to render assistance in anyway possible.”

  “I will add,” Lord Ragland continued, “that I have known Sir Victor for many years and have
found him to be a very capable man. Sir Victor, you have the floor.”

  Stepping in front of the little used fireplace, Sir Victor raised his glass…after a momentary pause he said in a deep voice, “A toast gentlemen. To England…and death to the French.”

  PART II

  Left Her Crying

  Left her crying on the pier

  When we put out to sea.

  Now every night I walk these decks

  Cause I can’t go to sleep.

  Every time I close my eyes

  I can see her face.

  Makes me wonder if her love

  Is nothing but a waste.

  My heart is so empty

  When she’s not around.

  But if she needed help

  Where would it be found?

  - Michael Aye

  Chapter Eleven

  Lord Anthony lay in his cot. The only sound was the rhythmic creaking of the ropes that attached to eyebolts in the overhead. The cot seemed empty and cold in spite of the heat. It was the first night since weighing anchor in Plymouth that he had slept alone. He already missed his wife and daughter more than he ever imagined.

  Bart was right. Being on the beach was not that bad. He had saved enough prize money that he should be able to retire easily. Especially when combined with Deborah’s holdings. Yes, Deborah’s holdings. He had not as yet considered it his as most men would have done.

  The sudden shrill of a boatswain’s pipes broke Anthony’s thoughts. The sound of the bosun mates could be heard as they aroused the sleeping men below deck.

  “All hands rouse out, rouse out you lubbers. Lash and carry.”

  The men below tumbled out of their hammocks quickly. The promise of being enlivened by the bosun mate’s starter prevented most from being laggard. The cook lit the fires in the galley stove while the on duty watch was put to work. They rigged the pumps, and got out swabs, buckets, and holystones.

  They scrubbed and washed down the deck then flogged them dry with swabs. Brick dust was used to polish the bright work. By seven o’ clock, the crew was piped to a simple but filling breakfast of burgoo (coarse oatmeal) and coffee. Anthony could hear Silas scrambling around in the pantry preparing his breakfast.