The Seahorse

by Michael Aye

  “Lum said some sailors can’t,” Faith continued.

  “Well, this one can.”

  “Good. Let’s go swimming.”

  With that she stood and pulled her gown over her head. The reflection of Faith’s gorgeous breasts and naked body there in the moonlight was more than he could stand.

  “Lord Almighty,” Gabe muttered.

  Tossing her wineglass aside, Faith yelled, “Close your mouth and come on,” as she dove into the clear spring fed pool.

  Gabe downed his glass of wine and removed his clothes. “You look like one of the Greek goddesses I read about,” he exclaimed as he looked upon his wife standing waist deep in the moonlit pool. Damme, if I’m not a lucky man, he thought as he jumped into the cool water. When he surfaced the water, he walked up to Faith.

  She put her arms around his neck and pulled him to her so that he could feel her breasts against his chest as their lips met in a long, loving, and passionate kiss.

  “I love you, Gabe.”

  “And I love you.”

  “We’ll have another child, won’t we, Gabe?”

  “Aye, my love…in time, as God wills.”

  Taking Gabe’s hand, Faith climbed out of the little pool of water and lay down on the blanket. Gabe sat beside her. He rested on one elbow and held her hand. He leaned over to kiss Faith and she put her arms around his neck and drew him to her. She ran her hand through his hair and with a finger traced the furrow where a bullet had once grazed his scalp, leaving a strip of gray hair.

  “Hold me, Gabe. Hold me for a while.”

  The two lay there for a long while, in one another’s arms. It was a loving, healing time.

  Slap…“Damn mosquitoes everywhere.” Samson rose up as Gabe laughed. “What a way to end a romantic evening,” he chuckled. “Hurry now. Let’s get dressed.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Once Intrepid, Dasher, and Alert returned from convoy duty, Lord Anthony decided it was time for the flagship to do its share of the patrol work. With the holidays approaching the likelihood of meeting any privateer or Colonial ship was remote. However, SeaHorse’s hands had been in port long enough.

  “There are only so many exercises we can do in port,” Buck had stated, the key being “in port.”

  Lizard still had need of repairs so she needed to stay in port until the repairs could be finished. Anthony made Fletcher acting commodore until his return and assigned Dasher and Ferret to patrol with the flagship. Viper would act as dispatch vessel. Lord Ragland had bid Anthony fair sailing and again extended the invitation to bring Lady Deborah back for the holidays.

  “Houghton will be more than happy to accommodate Captain Anthony and his wife,” Ragland said. “It will give us all a time of togetherness at Christmas.”

  Lord Ragland could be most persuasive, Anthony thought. Seeing Bart, Anthony said, “Are you ready to get to sea, old friend?”

  “Aye,” Bart replied. “I feels the need of a bit of space and some fresh air.”

  “You’d find enough fresh air on the island,” Anthony declared, “if you’d stay out of those smoky, old taverns. Between the rum and wenches you’ve probably spent half the prize money you got saved.”

  “Nay,” Bart exclaimed, using his thumb and finger like a measure. “Only a wee bit.”

  “Then what are you doing?” Anthony asked.

  “Adding to me retirement. Aye! Jep, he’s got a good head for cards. So with me as ’is partner we’s relieved some of these planters of a purse or two.”

  Suddenly concerned, Anthony questioned, “Not too large a purse I hope?”

  “Nay, we ain’t taken control like of nary a plantation but they’s a few who might be a bit short when it’s time to visit some trollop on Saturday night.”

  “Well, their wives might appreciate that,” Anthony said, a smile on his face.

  “Aye,” Bart replied. “But the trollops don’t.”

  “How do you know that?” Anthony asked.

  “Cause they done said so. One done offered old Jep a sample of ’er wares to not play.”

  Finding this interesting, Anthony asked, “Did Jep take her up on the deal?”

  “Nay. ’E said she wasn’t worth the money ’e’d lose and were no use to have two people upset.”

  “Two?” Anthony asked. “How’d he figure two?”

  “The planter when he wouldn’t play cards with him no more,” Bart said. “And Jep’s little doxy who’d lose her money if he took the other’s preposition.”

  “You mean proposition.”

  “That’s what I said. Anyway, Jep said the percentage just didn’t add up. Yew know what they say,” Bart added. “Ye can’t please everyone.”

  Hearing a chuckle behind him, Lord Anthony turned to find his flag lieutenant.

  “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Hazard said.

  “Nonsense. On an open deck how can you not overhear?” Anthony replied.

  Seeing a leather pouch tucked under Hazard’s arm, Anthony sighed and said, “You’ve got work for me, don’t you Everette?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Well, put it on my desk and see if you can talk Silas into getting us a cool beverage. I’ll go below once we’re underway.”

  “Aye, My Lord. Jepson says we’re in for a midday squall and it’s approaching that time now.”

  “Well, Jepson ought to know,” Anthony said, looking at the cloudless sky. Then turning to Bart, he continued, “I’d not bet against him.”

  This caused Bart to laugh at the private joke.

  Standing by the wheel, the quartermaster watched the men laughing. Lucky sod, he thought to himself. All that Bart has to do is stand around with ’is Lordship whilst the rest of us ’as to work for a living. Not even the officers ask ’is comings and goings. Pet, that’s what ’e is…admiral’s pet. Still what I wouldn’t give to be in ’is shoes.

  ***

  The squall came and went just as Jepson had predicted. The squadron made a show of heading toward Grenada then changed tack and headed due east.

  “No need to let the spies know exactly where or which direction we’re headed,” Anthony said to Buck and the master.

  “Before dusk puts us on a course nor-northwest, I want to look in at Martinique. I want to see if the French admiral we met at Antigua is there. I also want to see what kind of ships may be anchored.”

  “You think France will side with the Americans?” Buck asked.

  “Sir Victor does,” Anthony replied. “He said in his letter to me that the French at St. Lucia are building up their war supplies and improving the island’s defences. His agent said it was more obvious at Martinique. We need to be ready.”

  Buck looked skeptical at this remark. “With one seventy-four, sixty-four and a few frigates? We could be standing with our cannons loaded and run out and still not make a good show. France has increased her fleet while most of ours has been laid up to rot.”

  Anthony couldn’t help but smile. Buck could get worked up quickly.

  “Silas,” Anthony shouted to his servant, who was standing by the lee rail. “Hurry with a cool glass. I fear the flag captain is about to have apoplexy.”

  “Aye, My Lord. Lime juice or something with more substance?”

  “Substance I think,” Anthony replied.

  Not slowing down, Buck defended his ranting. “The West Indies would fall like dominoes if the French invaded. Then the damn dagos would be in for their pound of flesh. Lord North and Lord Sandwich had better be listening to the likes of Sir Victor. I don’t like the sod but he knows his business.”

  “Why don’t you write the First Lord and extend him an invitation to visit his Majesty’s possessions in the West Indies?” Anthony teased.

  Taking a deep breath, Buck said, “That do about as much good as inviting a whore to a wedding.”

  ***

  The following morning, Buck was standing on the quarterdeck talking to SeaHorse’s master when Anthony came on topside.

&
nbsp; “Captain Buck, Mr Jepson,” Anthony said in greeting the men.

  “Jepson has just pointed out St. Lucia,” Buck said, pointing off to larboard.

  “Do you know much about the island, Mr Jepson?”

  “Aye, My Lord. I was telling Captain Buck that yonder harbour is Gros Ilot. With its location at the northern tip of the island, one could watch the coming and goings at the French depot at Fort Royal on Martinique.”

  “An answer to a riddle, Mr Jepson.”

  “How so, My Lord?”

  “When Sir Victor wanted to know if the French were increasing their defences he had Gabe…Captain Anthony carry him to St. Lucia. Your knowledge of the island explains how his man knew so much.”

  “Well, if the French do side with the Colonies I expect Martinique will be the most important base for them on this side of the world,” Jepson remarked.

  “I read,” Buck said, “that during the Seven Year War that almost fourteen hundred English merchantmen were taken in the West Indies, and the principle ports for the rogues was Fort Royal on Martinique.”

  “Aye,” Jepson replied. “And it don’t take much to imagine a few privateers’ systems depend upon it now. That and Havana.”

  “Those are my thoughts as well,” Anthony said. “That’s why we’ll take a look see.”

  “Keep the monseers on their toes,” Buck commented. “Let them know we got our eye on them.”

  “Exactly,” Anthony remarked. “Put a person who can record in the tops with the lookout captain. I think I shall invite you, the master, a couple of lieutenants, and a few midshipmen to dine tonight. I shall leave it at your discretion as to which lieutenants and midshipmen will be invited.”

  “Thank you, My Lord. Duty permitting we shall be glad to accept,” Buck said. Then he continued, “Is there a hint as to what the main course will be?”

  Anthony paused as if in thought, then replied, “I have not yet consulted with Silas. However, knowing Jep and his relationship with Bart, I bet he’d have the information before I do.”

  “My Lord,” Jepson said, turning a little flushed. “You give me too much credit.”

  “I doubt that,” Anthony said. “You didn’t get to be a master by being dull.”

  He turned to go below, and then added, “I’ll bet that’s something a planter or two back on Barbados has learned.”

  Hearing Jepson mutter something Buck waited until Anthony was through the companionway and out of earshot before asking, “What was that, Jep?”

  Looking around before he answered, Jepson finally replied, “What I said was Bart ought to keep his trap shut.”

  Buck couldn’t help but chuckle. “Let me tell you something you probably already know, Mr Jepson. Between Lord Anthony and Bart there are no secrets.”

  “Aye,” Jepson replied. “I never figured there was. I just don’t want the word to get out about our whist playing. It could affect our winnings you know.”

  Damme, Buck thought. But ain’t he a cool one.

  ***

  The meal that evening was a pleasant affair. The junior midshipman stumbled through the simple toast to King and country in his haste to get at the meal. Neal, the second lieutenant, was a very educated man and impressed Anthony in his grasp of how important the West Indies were in regards to commerce.

  “Do you feel the Spanish will follow suit and aid the Colonies if France does, Mr Neal?” Anthony asked.

  Neal paused to gather his thoughts and form his reply. “I do, sir. They would have very little to lose by not doing so and considerable to gain. They have always opposed us when they could. While they and the French are officially neutral they openly allow freedom for Colonial ships and privateers to come and go. Therefore, I feel they’ve already decided.”

  Taking a drink from his glass, Neal continued, “Besides, Captain Buck says they will, so I consider his professional opinion to be gospel.”

  “Here, here,” the surgeon applauded. “A man who knows where his bread can be buttered.”

  This brought laughter from the rest of the group…except the midshipmen who barely paused from their eating. They paused only long enough to make sure they weren’t being addressed.

  Anthony then turned to Lieutenant Johns and asked, “What did you find interesting about the ships that were sighted at Martinique today?”

  “First, My Lord, was the number. You always expect a few but not the number we counted today. The other thing is outside the half dozen warships, the ships were deep water merchantman. Not island traders and the likes. That tells you they are stocking up. Taking it all into consideration I would have to say they were gearing up for war.”

  “I concur with your observations, Lieutenant. Now let’s see what the old salt says. Mister Jepson.”

  “It’s as evident to me as it is to the rest of you, sir. France is ready to go to war along side of the Colonies. What is also obvious is the strategic importance of these islands. I know it, you know it, My Lord. Sir Victor knows it but it’s the politicians that have their heads in the sand. I already feel we’ve lost the Colonies. Lord North hasn’t taken it seriously enough. The home folks don’t want the war and so it’s left up to sods like us…begging your pardon, My Lord.”

  When Anthony nodded Jepson continued, “It’s up to the likes of us to overcome the shortcomings of the politicians. They speak of guts and glory. As you know, My Lord, and as these officers will soon learn,” Jepson continued, nodding toward the young lieutenants and the midshipmen, “it’s our guts they’re talking about.”

  The table was silent when Jepson finished. The young officers were thinking about the master’s words and realizing the truth in them.

  Anthony broke the silence. “A toast, gentlemen…to those that go down on the sea in a ship.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  HMS SeaHorse and her consorts arrived in Antigua to find a large welcoming party. Lady Deborah was there with little Macayla, who was turning into a set-in-her-ways little lady. Her mother said she was only showing her family traits…those on her father’s side. Gabe was there with Faith, who showed little of the tragedy that had recently befallen her. Commodore Gardner was there with his wife, Greta.

  The carriages and footmen crowded the landing so there was little to gather once the boats from the ships landed. Lord Anthony and Captain Buck was in the admiral’s barge with Bart at the helm, smiling from ear to ear once the welcoming party had been spied. Captain Francis Markham, commanding Dasher, was next. He and Gabe had been friends since they were both midshipmen.

  Commodore Gardner had arranged for a luncheon at the inn. It was here Captain Buck renewed an old acquaintance. She was the widow of a wealthy plantation owner. She and Buck had enjoyed each other’s company when he’d been the first lieutenant on Drakkar a few years back. A few more wrinkles in the face caused by the tropical sun but otherwise she had changed very little, Buck thought. She was alone and glad to accept Buck’s invitation to join the others for the luncheon.

  Watching Buck and the widow, Lady Deborah leaned over and whispered to Anthony, “Want to bet Captain Buck makes his apologies and leaves early?”

  “It’s hard for us simple sailors not to fall into the clutches of you wily women, so I’d not bet,” Anthony replied. All the time he was thinking, Damn you Gardner, it’s been months since I was alone with my wife and you had to arrange a luncheon. Why couldn’t it have been dinner…tomorrow?

  Reading his thoughts, Deborah whispered, “Soon my love…soon.”

  Glancing up from the table, Anthony saw Bart and Dagan walk through a doorway into another room. They’ll have a wet and bring each other up to date on the happenings since they last talked, Anthony thought. What would England do without the likes of them…them and men like the master, George Jepson?

  ***

  The ride up to the cottage never ceased to amaze Anthony. The peaceful tranquility of the island as viewed from the hilltop. He remembered the first time he and Bart had ridden up this road
. How the sea and the sky almost merged. The small island in the distance now covered in clouds…Potters Cay. The rustle as a gentle breeze blew the palm trees. This…this was home. Would the peaceful existence be shattered by French or Spanish cannons?

  “I pray not.”

  “What was that dear?” Deborah asked.

  “Just thinking aloud,” Anthony said, not wanting to worry his wife.

  Taking his arm, Deborah pulled her man closer. Something was on his mind. Something to do with the war and something he didn’t want her to fret over. Snuggled close to her husband, Deborah too remembered the first time he’d come up this hill to visit. She also remembered the days Gabe lay wounded and racked with fever in one of the cottage’s small bedrooms.

  She remembered the letters Anthony had written to the families of fallen sailors. Damn this war, she thought. It had taken so much out of this man she loved. Hadn’t he already done enough? How often must he risk his life? Well, tonight she’d take his mind away from it all. As Bart says “and that’s no error.”

  ***

  Bart and Dagan were at a table when Jep walked up with a fresh round of ale. Sitting down he nodded toward the door at the man who had just entered.

  “Sir Victor,” Bart hissed. “We’s can’t get rid of ’is kind cans we?”

  “Aye,” Jep said. “Wonder what’s up this time?”

  “I’m sure we’ll know soon enough,” Dagan said with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  “Maybe ’e’ll pick another ship to ferry ’is arse here and yon,” Bart said.

  “No,” Dagan answered. “It will be Gabe. He’s seen him in action. He knows that he’s a capable man.”

  “Maybe His Lordship won’t let Peregrine go,” Jepson said. “He’d be in a fix if the French attacked and we was short a ship.”

  “Nay,” Bart replied. “Me admiral loves ’is brother like ’e were ’is son. But he’d allow Sir Victor to use Gabe. ’E ’as a letter from the admiralty making it clear we’s to offer every assistance possible. Them’s the words best as I can recall.”

  “Well let’s hope the frogs stay at home,” Jepson said.