The Seahorse

by Michael Aye

  As soon as the seas had calmed down, Buck had signaled Peregrine to close with the flag and captain to repair on board. Dagan must have known something was amiss as he accompanied Gabe after the ships had hove to. Gabe made it quickly to his brother’s side after a brief conversation with Captain Buck, who briefly explained what happened.

  The ship’s surgeon was about to perform a bloodletting to relieve the vapours that the lightning had caused. Seeing the man’s instruments Dagan said, “No,” in a very firm voice.

  “Now see here man.” The surgeon started to protest the intrusion, but as the surgeon looked into Dagan’s cold black eyes, the objection died without completion.

  The sleeping quarters were very dark so Dagan opened the gallery windows and skylight. Almost like a miracle, once the light filled the cabin Anthony stirred. A groan, then a stretching and with that he opened his eyes.

  Looking about him, Anthony spoke, “My head feels like it’s been hit by a broadside.”

  Unable to control her emotions, Lady Deborah burst out in tears but a smile was on her face. Bending over she showered Anthony with one kiss after another. “My darling, we were worried so.”

  “What…what happened?” Anthony asked.

  Bart explained how lightning had hit the fore-topmast, a long continuous bolt that traveled the entire ship.

  “Was anyone hurt?” was Anthony’s first question.

  “Only you, My Lord.” This from Captain Buck, who had entered and had his hand on Gabe’s back.

  Dagan turned to leave the now cramped sleeping quarters. In doing so he came eye to eye with Gabe. He still had a concerned look.

  “He’ll live,” Dagan whispered as he made his way out of the cabin.

  Seeing Dagan depart, Bart followed. Once on deck Bart offered Dagan a clay pipe and tobacco as he dug out his own pipe. Seeing the two light up, Lieutenant Johns started to protest but remembering previous warnings from Captain Buck, closed his trap. After all it was make and mend.

  ***

  Bart entered Lord Anthony’s cabin wiping his face with his handkerchief. “We’re just past South Point,” he said, informing Anthony as to their position.

  “If you will be so kind,” Anthony said, speaking to Hazard, his flag lieutenant. “Give my compliments to the flag captain and let him know I’d like to speak with him as soon as convenient.”

  “Aye, My Lord.” Hazard answered and made his way to the quarterdeck.

  Soon the marine sentry stamped the deck with his musket and announced, “Flag captain, suh.”

  “Carlisle Bay is in sight,” Buck said upon entering. That was Buck’s way of informing Anthony the visit would have to be brief.

  Coming to the point, Anthony said, “About Jepson, how is he doing?”

  “He’s doing well, My Lord. You know his kind. Tough as English oak.”

  “Aye,” Anthony said. “I would like to do something for him but I confess I don’t know what to do.”

  “I’m not sure he expects anything,” Buck replied.

  “I know, but for his quick thinking I could have been fried to a crisp.”

  A knock at the door and once again the marine sentry stamped his musket and announced, “Midshipman of the watch, suh.”

  “Lieutenant Lamb’s compliments, sir,” the midshipman said, addressing Captain Buck. “We’re entering the bay, sir.”

  “Very well,” Buck replied. “I’ll be up directly.” Turning to Anthony, Buck said,“Nervous.”

  “The lad?” Anthony questioned.

  “No, Lieutenant Lamb. He knows what to do but is hesitant to act without my approval,” Buck said in disgust. “Gawd help the ship if I fall.”

  “Maybe you should take him aside,” Anthony said. Then as an afterthought, he added, “Maybe you should become suddenly ill the next time we weigh anchor. He’ll then have to sink or swim.”

  “And if he sinks?” Buck questioned.

  “Then he doesn’t need to be the first lieutenant,” Anthony replied in a matter-of-fact way. “We can’t let one person endanger the entire ship.”

  “Aye, you’re right, My Lord. I may have Jepson speak with him.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Anthony replied. “Now be on deck with you. I’ll come up directly.”

  ***

  Sir Victor was on deck when Anthony appeared.

  “My Lord,” he said. “It’s good to see you doing so well.”

  “Thank you,” Anthony replied. “It appears we are approaching the anchorage.”

  Taking a deep breath, Sir Victor said, “I can smell the shore.”

  As they looked towards the shore the beach and palm trees were clearly visible. The sea had turned to a pale green as the water shallowed.

  “Eight fathoms,” someone forward cried out.

  Seeing the questioning look on Sir Victor’s face, Anthony explained, “They’re checking the depth.”

  Nodding his understanding, Sir Victor replied, “It wouldn’t do to run aground, would it?” Glancing about the ship he spoke again, “The men seem to have gotten cleaned up.”

  Anthony saw that most of the crew had freshly shaven faces. Their hair was pulled back into neatly tied queues, most with black ribbon but blue and red was also noted. Clean trousers and shirts had been adorned.

  “The lure of Bridgetown,” Anthony said by way of explanation. “Local rum by the barrel and willing trollops. A sailor’s dream, sir.”

  A midshipman approached Anthony. “Yes?” Anthony asked, not waiting for the youth to beg his pardon.

  “Captain’s compliments, sir, and we’re about to begin the salute.”

  “Thank you, young sir.”

  Then turning to Sir Victor, Anthony said, “I shall go to my cabin and make preparations for going ashore.”

  “And I as well,” Sir Victor replied.

  Before returning to his cabin Anthony turned once more to Sir Victor, “When do you anticipate leaving for Halifax?”

  After a pause, Sir Victor replied, “I will have to talk to Lord Ragland first to be for sure but I’d not think it would be till after Christmas…possibly after the first of the New Year.”

  Once back in his cabin, Anthony could see that Lady Deborah had Silas and the lone servant girl busy. It amazed him how much it took for women to make themselves presentable. She had four trunks with her and would have had double that had he not brought up the lack of space. Of course, one was for Macayla…or so Deborah said.

  “Surely you don’t need all that,” he said.

  “Surely you don’t want me dressed like some tavern wench.”

  Trying to be coy, Anthony had responded, “Well, there’s some what’ll turn a head.”

  “Yes, I’ve seen your head turn enough to know,” she chided. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten how your eyes bugged out at some of Greta’s parties.”

  “I only look at what’s being presented,” Anthony said in defence. “The more that’s shown, the more I look. Seems like I recall that certain green dress you wore…now that one near took my breath away.”

  “Gown…it was a gown. It was meant to get your blood running.”

  “Damme, if it didn’t do its job too,” Anthony replied. He then put his arms around his wife and pulled her to him. “Maybe it’s time for a little more thunder and lightning.”

  “Hush,” she hissed. “The servant will hear you.” But a smile filled her face. “Who knows what might take place tonight.”

  “A date it is, madam,” Anthony said as he took a step back and gave an exaggerated bow.

  Standing over next to the pantry, Silas shook his head. Teeched! Damned if that lightning bolt didn’t fry something in His Lordship’s head. Wonder iffen ’is lightning rod is still working proper like, Silas thought to himself with a smirk on his face.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The dancers whirled about on the highly polished dance floor. Young men, some wealthy planter’s sons, others wearing the distinctive dress uniform of either the Navy or the Arm
y mingled about. They were each trying to catch some girl’s eye with their dress and swagger. The young women were dressed in brightly colored gowns of various descriptions, designed to show off each young lady’s attributes.

  Lord Anthony and Lady Deborah were taking a breather and enjoying a cool glass of Sangria. Gabe approached them and accepted a glass from a passing servant.

  “Faith looks beautiful tonight,” Deborah volunteered.

  “Aye,” Gabe responded, proud of his wife. “She seems to be enjoying herself. She has promised at least one dance to every officer aboard Peregrine.”

  “It’s good she can enjoy herself,” Anthony replied. “This is what she needs to put her recent ordeal behind her.”

  “Here comes Lord Ragland,” Gabe spoke quietly. “I see he has our Foreign Service gentleman with him.”

  “Aye,” Anthony replied. He didn’t know why but he always had bad feelings when Sir Victor was around. He was a genuine fellow and well mannered so Anthony could only sum up his feelings with one word…spy.

  “Greetings Gil,” Lord Ragland said, using Anthony’s given name. He then turned to Deborah, bowed and said, “My lady you look positively radiant tonight.”

  Anthony agreed wholeheartedly and could not wait till the evening was over and he was alone with his wife.

  Wiping his face with a lace handkerchief, Ragland volunteered, “It’s hellish hot tonight.”

  Even with the great French windows opened wide to allow what wind there was to sweep through the governor’s house, the heat was still intense. The faces of the dancers were all red and gleamed with sweat. Collars had been pulled loose and were damp with perspiration. The amount of spirits that had been consumed was also taking its toll. The glowing chandelier that hung from the high ceiling flickered as a pleasant, cooling breeze found its way through the open windows.

  “Thank the Lord for that,” Deborah said. “I felt like I was about to melt.”

  Once the dance was over, black red-liveried menservants circulated through the crowd, offering trays of cool beverages. The orchestra made up of free black men laid down their instruments, sweating from the last number, which had been a tune played at a fast tempo.

  Faith made her way across the dance floor and after a whisper in Deborah’s ear the ladies excused themselves.

  “Ladies always excuse themselves in pairs,” Sir Victor exclaimed. “If men were to do that it would soon be rumoured they were sodomites.”

  Drink was definitely making itself evident. His speech was somewhat slurred and his statement while true was not the gentlemanly thing to mention at such a gathering. Across the dance floor Gabe spied Lieutenant Davy. He was in conversation with a young lady of twenty or so years.

  She had sun-streaked blond hair that hung down in curls to either side of her ears. Her gown was a pink silk. She carried a green embroidered fan that she flicked about as she talked. A strand of pearls hung around her neck and fell between two creamy white breasts that were pushed up by a tight corset. In spite of the West Indies heat and humidity the girl was stunning…absolutely stunning. Not a drop of perspiration was seen.

  “I see Lieutenant Davy is fairly intrigued.”

  “Aye,” Anthony responded to Gabe’s remark.

  “Young love,” Ragland volunteered.

  “Quim…not love. Quim is what’s on that boy’s mind,” Sir Victor said with a belch.

  “Ahem…she has breeding and wealth,” Ragland said, overlooking Sir Victor’s drunken state.

  “Matters little when she’s in heat,” Sir Victor spoke again. “They all act the same when they’re in heat. It matters little who they are, street strumpet or Queen of Sheba.”

  Realizing things were about to become embarrassing, Anthony caught the eye of his flag lieutenant and motioned him over.

  “Mr Hazard, Sir Victor is feeling the ill effects of the heat. Would you be so kind as to escort him back to his quarters and assist him in his preparations to retire for the evening?”

  “My pleasure, My Lord,” said Hazard, who clearly didn’t relish the idea of dealing with a drunk.

  “Thank you, sir,” Lord Ragland said. “I don’t know what has come over our friend. Most unbecoming I declare.”

  “We have all had moments we’d rather forget,” Anthony said, not wanting to make more of the situation than it warranted. Turning back he was just in time to see Lieutenant Davy and the young lady disappear through the open doorway. Taking a breather, he thought…I hope.

  Lieutenant Davy was living a dream. He’d never been so close to such a beautiful creature. His heart pounded as hand in hand they walked through the garden to a small bench that sat under a gazebo. As the two sat down fireflies winked and inside the orchestra started to play again. Davy leaned over and kissed Annabelle. Her perfume mingled with the scent of flowers that filled the little garden. As their lips met, Annabelle took Davy’s hand and brought it against her chest.

  “I love you,” she whispered as once again her lips sought and found his.

  Davy’s hand was now resting upon the softness of her breast. I think I’m in heaven, he thought as he cupped her breast while her hand drifted down to below his waist…to his erect manhood.

  “You whore! You bitch of a whore.”

  Not believing his ears, Davy opened his eyes to find an irate young man staring down upon the two as they sat on the bench.

  Annabelle glared at the man shouting down obscenities. “You cad,” she spat back in a raging fury.

  Davy, now raging himself, rose abruptly and said, “Apologize, sir. I demand it.”

  “Demand it? I couldn’t give a tinker’s damn what you or this whore demand.”

  Without thinking, Davy slapped the lout. The sound echoed in the night and it became deathly still.

  “That’s enough.” This came from Marine Lieutenant Baugean.

  Davy, seething with anger, again demanded, “You’ll apologize to the lady, sir.”

  “I’ve never apologized in my life and I’ll never apologize for speaking the truth.”

  “Liar!” Annabelle screamed.

  The music had stopped and hearing the commotion outside the dancers walked out onto the terrace.

  Still feeling the sting on his face from Davy’s slap, the man said, “You’ll answer to me for that, sir.”

  Gabe, Lord Anthony, and Lord Ragland had just made it through the door when the man made his remark.

  “Leave this house now, young sir!” Lord Ragland roared.

  “I had that in mind, sir,” the man said bowing. “I find the company insufferable.”

  Davy took a step forward, determined to defend Annabelle’s honour.

  “And you, sir,” the man smirked, “are a fool to defend what Annabelle doesn’t possess.” Still touching his face the man continued, “Nevertheless you’ve marked me so I will have satisfaction.”

  Turning to Baugean, Davy said, “I’ll need a second.”

  Baugean came to attention, clicked his heels together, and gave a slight bow.

  “Good,” the man said. “My second will be contacting you upon the morrow to make the arrangements.” The man then turned to Lord Ragland. “I apologize for spoiling your ball, sir. However, the fault was not mine.”

  ***

  Lord Anthony sat in a cushioned leather chair discussing the previous evening’s events with Governor Lord Ragland. “Annabelle’s father, Sir William Bolton, is the second richest plantation owner on the island. Jonathan Penn, the young man who demanded satisfaction from your lieutenant, is a bit of a hothead. He is given to drink, gambling, and the weekly visit to Peg’s place for a romp. Jonathan’s father…ere stepfather, is Mr Winston Penn. He’s the wealthiest man on the island. They moved here from the Colonies back in 1758. He did not like the view the Puritans took when he married a woman with a child. He has succeeded where others failed and has bought a couple of plantations thereby adding to his original holdings. He is a hands-on type of gentleman and meets with his foreman a
nd overseers daily.”

  “You’ve discovered all this in the few months you’ve been here? It’s incredible,” Anthony said.

  Smiling, Lord Ragland responded, “The favourite pastime on an island such as Barbados is gossip. Lend a willing ear and you’d be surprised what you’ll hear.”

  Seeing Lord Ragland’s glass was empty, a manservant poured more lime juice from a pewter pitcher. There was obviously ice still in the container as the outside was beaded with condensation. Once his and Lord Anthony’s glasses were refilled, Lord Ragland continued.

  “The rumour is Sir William is in debt to Mr Penn. It is also rumoured that for all his money, the one thing Mr Penn doesn’t have is a title. A marriage would produce…hopefully produce grandchildren that would be titled. If an arrangement were to be made so that Jonathan and Annabelle married, it is hinted that all debts would be forgiven.”

  “I see,” Anthony said.

  “Looking at the prospects on the island,” Ragland continued, “Annabelle had probably resolved herself to the fact that she would eventually become Mrs. Penn. Though I’m told she has never relished the idea. They have been seen together for the last several months at all the socials and parties but anyone paying attention could tell she doesn’t love the lout. Then here comes the dashing young, heroic Navy lieutenant. He has tales of foreign lands. He’s fought battles on the high seas. To her way of thinking, he is a regular Romeo. Compared to Lieutenant Davy, Jonathan is nothing but a rich, spoiled bully of a boy.”

  “I tell you this,” Ragland said, downing his glass of juice. “This little incident has caused a rift among the locals. Sir William, by all rights, should call out Jonathan for the remarks said to his daughter. If this were to happen I’m sure Mr Penn would make the boy apologize pleading drunkenness. However, with a third party involved and it being someone who’s attracted the attention of Annabelle, I don’t think Winston will intervene. I understand the seconds have met and the duel is scheduled.”