by Michael Aye
“Aye,” his mates replied in unison.
Recognizing the group at the table, Sir Victor made his way over to them. “Greetings gentlemen.”
“They ain’t no gentlemens at this table,” Bart snorted, only to feel a nudge in his ribs by Jepson.
“And to you sir,” Dagan said as he rose. “Would you care to have a glass of ale?” This was said in the face of a glare from Bart.
“No, thank you. I was seeking directions to Lord Anthony’s lodging. I understand it’s not close enough to walk, that one would need a horse.”
“’E ain’t there,” Bart said with an edge still in his voice. “’E won’t be back till tonight. Yew jus tell us uns where you are staying and we’ll see ’is Lordship gets the word.”
Sir Victor listened and seemed to contemplate on Bart’s words. “You seem most disagreeable today, sir. I’ve done nothing to offend you, have I?”
“Your being here offends me,” Bart said.
Jepson’s jaw dropped upon hearing Bart’s words. Dagan cleared his throat and went to speak. He too was surprised at Bart’s animosity.
“Keep yer trap closed for a bit,” Bart said upon Dagan’s attempt to intervene. Bart then turned back to Sir Victor and said, “I got nothing ’gainst yew personal like. It’s jus when you come around it puts ’is Lordship in a spot. That I’s don’t like. So let me jus tell yew there’s nobody what means more to me than ’is Lordship…’is Lordship and ’is family. So I’s plainly telling yew…government man or not…yew cause ’urt to come to ’is Lordship, I’ll be out to do some ’urting me self.”
Sir Victor stood there. He‘d never been talked to in such a way. Why, he could have the man flogged for insubordination. But no…he might be killed, but the man would never be flogged. Loyalty…I’ve never seen such loyalty, Sir Victor realized. This man had threatened him out of loyalty. Sir Victor took a deep breath, not quite trusting his emotions.
After a lengthy pause, he looked at Bart and said, “I commend you sir. That was well spoken. I only wish I had someone who cared as much for me. However, you may rest assured that whether you like it or not, I do what I do for England…all of England. We sometimes lose sight of our actions, how we treat those around us, feeling the end justifies the means. I apologize for my abruptness at times. I shall endeavor to not endanger your admiral or any of his officers and men anymore than I would myself. However, I must always consider the lives of many against the lives of a few, including my own life. So let me say, I could be more of a gentleman in how I go about my work but it is work that must be done.”
Upon hearing Sir Victor’s words, Bart held out his hand. “Maybe I was a bit too ’asty.”
“Nonsense,” Sir Victor declared, meaning it. “Let me buy a round and you let His Lordship know I’d like to see him upon the morrow if it’s convenient.”
“Aye, we’ll do that,” Dagan said quickly and watched the man as he departed.
“’E ain’t such a bad bloke once you get to know ’im is ’e,” Bart said.
“It’s a wonder he didn’t put a sword through your gullet,” Jepson said. “You had me worried there for a minute.”
“Aye,” Dagan said, seeing a side of Bart he’d not seen nor wanted to see again.
***
The next day Bart was standing under the poop when Lieutenant Hazard escorted Sir Victor to the gangway. Seeing Bart, Sir Victor smiled and waved. Bart returned the wave.
When Hazard came back toward Bart he said with a frown, “His Lordship wishes to speak to you.”
Anthony saw his cox’n enter the cabin and called, “Bart!”
“Aye.”
“What’s this I hear of you calling out Sir Victor,” Anthony growled.
“I didn’t call ’im out,” Bart replied. “Not regular like anyway. I jus told ’im I would.”
“Aye, I heard all about it,” Anthony answered. “Said he admired you more than anybody he’d ever met,” Anthony continued.
“Silas!”
“Aye, My Lord.”
“Let’s have a glass of hock.”
“At once, My Lord.” Then he went to get a bottle out of the bilges. The fresh supply was dwindling fast.
Anthony then turned back to Bart. “I’m honoured by your loyalty and friendship. But, Bart, that man is a King’s officer.”
“I know,” Bart answered…”but ’e’d still be called out.”
Anthony opened his mouth to speak then closed it. That damn Bart, he got the last word in again.
Chapter Twenty
Sir Victor sat at a round table next to a window. The shutters were open, allowing a small zephyr to enter the dark tavern. Looking out the window the dockyard could be seen. A ship was being unloaded so that it could enter the dock for repairs. It was not one of Lord Anthony’s ships. It was likely one that had been caught up in a squall and needed repairs before it could continue on.
There was no sign of battle so it had to be weather, Sir Victor concluded. A waiter brought his tankard of ale over with a promise that his meal would soon follow. Once the waiter was gone, Sir Victor turned back to look out the window. The breeze had picked up a bit and the smell of tar, turpentine, and cordage mingled with the distinct smell of the sea.
The waiter and a servant girl were now at the table. “I think you’ll find the mutton very tasty,” the waiter volunteered. He turned and took a bowl of green peas and one of boiled squash from the girl. She then hurried off and quickly returned with a loaf of fresh baked bread, butter and a jar of lime marmalade.
Bowing as he backed away, the waiter said, “Just sing out if I can bring you anything else, sir.”
Sir Victor nodded his thanks, as he’d just placed a piece of warm buttered bread in his mouth.
Outside the window the sound from a party of seamen could be heard as they walked across the ground oyster and seashells that lined the path, making a crunching sound with every step. The men made a colorful group as each seemed to be dressed differently. Some wore broad striped trousers while others wore plain sailcloth. One had a fancy red waistcoat while the others wore ordinary blue jackets. All wore hats set at a jaunty angle with various colored handkerchiefs tied about their necks with pigtails hanging down.
There was something about these men that made Sir Victor think of the fiercely loyal Bart and Jepson. These were sailors off a warship. They had that certain air about them. No wonder England ruled the sea, Sir Victor thought.
After finishing his meal, Sir Victor made his way to the waterfront. Lord Anthony had promised a boat to pick him up about three o’clock. The squadron was to sail on the evening tide. Once they reached Barbados, Sir Victor would then take passage to Halifax. He’d asked for Captain Anthony but now was reluctant to separate the young captain from his bride after her recent ordeal.
However, duty and needs of the King came before personal life. Captain Anthony understood that. The boat was waiting with Captain Buck’s cox’n, Tom Blood, at the tiller.
“A fine day is it not?” Sir Victor observed speaking to Blood.
“Aye, sir,” Blood replied. “The breeze has cooled things off a might so it’s not too hot even for the middle of the afternoon. Lots better than the cold and rain back in Portsmouth.”
“Aye,” Sir Victor said, using the Navy lingo, “much preferable.”
***
Lord Anthony, Lady Deborah and Macayla were already aboard SeaHorse when Sir Victor arrived. Buck greeted the Foreign Service gentleman as he made his way through the entry port. A petty officer quickly hoisted Sir Victor’s trunk aboard while Sir Victor and the captain were talking.
“His Lordship has extended an invitation to join him once you’re settled in,” Buck said.
“Thank you, Captain,” Sir Victor replied. “But would I be in the way if I remained topside until we’re underway.”
“No, you’d not be in the way,” Buck responded. “And you’re welcome to watch from the advantage of the quarterdeck.”
�
��Thank you kindly, Captain.”
Sir Victor had already learned one didn’t enter upon the quarterdeck without an invitation, so he felt privileged. What he did know was Captain Buck was just trying to give his admiral a little more time alone till Lady Deborah and the child were settled in.
“Mr Jepson,” Buck called to the master.
“Aye, Captain.”
“Would you say the tide has freshened so that we may get underway?”
“I would say so,” Jep replied.
Buck then called the midshipman in charge of signals. “Make signal, Mr Lewis. Prepare to weigh anchor.”
“Aye, sir,” the youth acknowledged as he ran to carry out his task.
“Mr Lamb.”
“Aye, Captain,” the first lieutenant answered.
“You may get us underway.”
“Aye, sir,” Lamb replied and then started barking out orders.
Pipes shrilled and the decks came alive as men ran to their stations, urged by shouts and curses from petty officers, each wanting their division to beat the others.
“Move you slack-arsed landsman. There’s not a proper seaman in the lot of ye.”
“Move ya bloody whoreson,” the bosun yelled. “Evans, how long you been aboard this ship?”
A yelp of pain as the bosun’s ratten hurried along a laggard.
“Stand by the capstan.”
Jepson crossed to Buck’s side and said, “We’ll have rain before Barbados, possibly a squall.”
Buck only nodded as he called out, “Mr Johns, a shanty if you please.”
“Aye, Captain,” the lieutenant replied, and then called for the fiddler.
The sound of the fiddle filled the air as Decker, SeaHorse’s bosun, roared out, “Now me little sweethearts. Let’s show the buggers on the hill what a sight it be to watch a man-o-war get underway.”
Looking, Sir Victor could indeed see a group of people had gathered to see the squadron weigh anchor and set sail. How many of them are spies? Sir Victor’s suspicious mind wondered.
“Anchors hove short,” Lamb reported to Buck, who only nodded.
Lamb lifted his speaking trumpet and ordered, “Loose head sails.”
Jepson had made his way back to the big double wheel, watching. His eyes were on the canvas sails that were flapping and cracking as they filled with the wind.
“Be ready,” he warned the helmsman.
“Lay a course to take us from the harbour and to Barbados,” Buck ordered the master.
As the sails filled and the ship began to move, Lamb lifted his trumpet again, “Loose topsails.” Like thunder the great sails billowed out.
“Anchors aweigh, sir,” Meriweather cried out from the fo’c’sle.
Clank, clank, clank. The sound was coming from the capstan as it pulled the hidden anchor from its depths.
“Get the courses on her?” Lamb asked Buck somewhat timidly.
“Aye,” Buck replied not wanting to embarrass the first lieutenant. He knows what to do, Buck thought, so why does he always ask…a quiet conversation for later.
“Mr Lamb.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Let’s have the topgallants on her once we clear the harbour.”
“Aye, sir.”
The anchor was now clear of the water and Decker could once again be heard from near the capstan. “Carter, you grog faced villain, heave.”
The men put their backs into it and with a final heave the anchor dangled like a great pendant just below the cathead. “Heave, you blood bullocks.” And the anchor was catted home.
Sir Victor watched from his vantage point on the quarterdeck as the people on the hill got smaller and finally vanished. He sat there a while longer, wondering how many times ships such as this weighed anchor leaving loved ones behind, often never to be heard from again. Damme, but I’m getting soft, he thought. But still he looked at those who chose the sea in a new light.
For the remainder of the afternoon, SeaHorse and her consorts drove steadily through the warm Caribbean Sea, but overhead the sky was changing. Dark clouds now blotted out the sun and the seas had picked up as the wind increased. Feeling the increase in the sea, Lord Anthony came on deck as Jepson was telling Buck it wouldn’t hurt to put another helmsman on the wheel.
“I feel we’ll have to reduce sail,” Buck said, seeing his admiral.
Anthony nodded in acknowledgment, the wind already making it difficult to speak.
The squall came ten minutes later. It was accompanied with a heavy rain as black clouds filled the horizon. Looking aft, Anthony could see the rest of the ships in his squadron.
“They are all on station,” Buck shouted. “For now.”
“How’s our heading?” Buck asked Jepson.
“Fine so far, winds steady sou-sou-east, but the barometer is on the rise.”
To mark the master’s words, the wind shifted causing the wet sails to flap.
“Mr Lamb,” Buck called.
“Aye, sir.”
“Man the braces. If the wind continues we’ll be taken aback.”
“Aye, sir.”
The bosun had no sooner piped all hands and the yards were braced around when the perverse wind shifted back to the southwest creating another evolution. Looking aft once more Anthony was alarmed to find the sky was so thick and dark that he couldn’t see anything beyond a cable’s length.
Sir Victor was feeling the effects of the weather as well. He turned to go below only to stagger as the ship crashed through a rogue wave. He caught hold of a ratline to keep from falling onto the heaving deck. As he righted himself, a gust of wind plucked his hat from his head. Tom Blood, standing next to his captain, saw the hat in the air and gave a leap, catching it just before it flew over the side.
“Damme, what a catch,” Buck said, patting his cox’n on the shoulder.
“Thank you, thank you kindly,” Sir Victor said, wiping the wet cocked hat with his handkerchief. “It’s a new one. I should have known better than to wear it on deck.”
Blood offering his arm for Sir Victor to steady himself said, “I always look to the captain. If his noggin is covered I wears me hat. Otherwise I don’t.”
“I’ll take your advice,” Sir Victor said as he made it through the companionway.
Bart had made his way topside with Anthony’s tarpaulin. The wind roared and the rain now came down in torrents.
Smiling at Jepson, Bart said, “Looks like we’re in for a deyluge.”
Anthony, finally getting his coat buttoned up, asked, “Pray tell, where you got that idea?”
“From seeing all the water what’s running down the scuppers, that’s where.”
Bart was right. Water flooded over the scuppers and at times was sloshing over the coamings and down through the hatches to the decks below.
SeaHorse drove through the gale. The sails had now been reduced to foresail and topsails. Once the sails were set the men were sent below unless they had the watch. They were tired and wet but at least they were out of the wind.
The officers stood on the quarterdeck as the thunder rolled through the sky and streaks of lightning pierced the dark clouds, darting in every direction.
Buck turned to Anthony and said, “There is no need for you to remain on deck, My Lord. I’m sure Lady Deborah is at her wits end with the gale. You should go below. We will call you if we need you.”
“Aye, Rupert. I think I will.”
Anthony made his way down the quarterdeck ladder and steadied himself by holding onto a shroud as the ship was rolled by a huge wave. Still holding onto the shroud, Anthony put his other hand on a cannon as he righted himself, drenched to the bone. At this moment a tremendous noise was heard aloft and a shock was felt throughout the ship.
Lightning had struck the ship at the main top and ran down the wet lines in every direction, leaving a trail of smoke drifting off the lines. A loud shriek was heard as those on the quarterdeck could see Lord Anthony being shocked with the lightning running from t
he shrouds through His Lordship and into the heavy metal cannon. Without thinking, Jepson jumped from the quarterdeck and hit Lord Anthony squarely, knocking him loose from the line he’d been gripping.
A trembling sensation shook the ship and cries of alarm was heard as the topmast exploded from the continuous bolt after bolt of lightning hitting it, showering the deck with splinters and debris. Smoke filled the main decks and seamen came rushing up through the hatches, fear on their faces.
Silas and Lady Deborah rushed out through the companionway only to come to a sudden stop as they saw Lord Anthony lying on the deck. Smoke was coming from his hair and the soles of his boots. One sole had curled away at the seams. Jepson rose from the deck, bruised with blood dripping from his broken nose. Bart knelt down and picked up his admiral and carried him to the bed in his cabin while Buck sent for the surgeon.
Lady Deborah wiped the tears from her eyes and was led by Silas back to the cabin. Lieutenant Hazard made his way from the wardroom into the admiral’s cabin just as Bart laid Anthony down on his cot. Hazard took Lady Deborah’s hand at the point and Silas went to help Bart undress Anthony. Little Macayla slept the innocent sleep of a child.
On deck, the sun reappeared as the clouds and the rain went away. But still a cloud hung over HMS SeaHorse as the ship sailed on toward Barbados.
Chapter Twenty-one
With a warm fresh breeze Lord Anthony’s squadron made good time heading to Barbados. The crew now over the shock of being hit by lightning went about their duties in a relieved if not cheerful manner.
“It was on a whaler,” Decker was saying. “A bolt hit the mainmast and traveled the length of the ship—down every shroud and backstay from stem to stern. Every line was scorched. The ringbolts were seared, leaving charred marks in the deck. The lookout in the crosstrees lived but was never the same again. Burnt the hair slam offen his head. No eyebrows either. Always seem to be staring off into the distance, he did.”
Lieutenant Johns had the watch. It was make and mend; otherwise he’d have busted up the group. He didn’t know if Decker’s story was true or not but he was sure every man jack would tell the story again, adding to what happened to the admiral. Seamen were a superstitious lot and if Lord Anthony pulled through this they’d say he was lightning proof.