The Seahorse

by Michael Aye

  “Captain Anthony, may I introduce you to Captain Nelson?”

  “We’ve met,” Gabe replied, shaking Nelson’s hand. “I was a lieutenant in command of HMS SeaWolf in company with the schooner, Swan. The convoy you were escorting had been attacked by privateers and the other escort vessel had been lost!”

  “Of course,” Nelson exclaimed. “Gabe Anthony and the commander of the Swan was Lieutenant Markham.”

  “Captain Markham now,” Gabe said. “’Tis good to see you again, sir.”

  “What is your date of rank?”

  Gabe told Nelson, who grinned and said, “Not but a year after my date.”

  Gabe first thought the smallish man was trying to establish seniority but quickly changed his mind when Nelson said, “I wish I had time. We’d celebrate our swabs but the admiral has given me orders to sail on the tide.”

  “Some other time perhaps,” Gabe said, extending his hand.

  Nelson gave a firm shake then turned to depart but paused. “A prize, I see.”

  “Aye,” Gabe replied. “We were lucky.”

  “Well yes, God’s speed to you, Captain,” and then Nelson was gone.

  “Not been lucky with prizes, that one,” the flag captain said. “A fine officer, however. He’ll fly his own flag one day. Probably sooner than later.”

  No doubt, Gabe thought. He has an air about him…one that makes you forget his smallish size.

  “Well, let’s get along. His lordship doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  “Yes, sir,” Gabe responded and followed behind the flag captain.

  Gabe was made comfortable as the admiral read his report, occasionally responding to questions the admiral asked.

  “Eighteen pounders were they?” Lord Howe asked once, speaking of the size of the cannons the xebec carried. “The carronades, what did you do with the ones you took off the Britannia?”

  Damn, Gabe thought. Caught. The bugger doesn’t miss a thing. “They…er…two are aboard the Peregrine and another two are on the Dasher,” Gabe answered.

  “Do you think they would have made a difference in your battle with the pirate?” Howe asked.

  Gabe was quick to notice the term pirate. Not privateer. “Yes sir, I do,” he answered truthfully. “Captain Ford gave us a great deal of information on the guns before we left Barbados. I was very impressed.”

  “Would you like to keep them?”

  Gabe couldn’t control his excitement. “Oh yes sir, My Lord.”

  “Does Dasher’s captain feel as enthused about them as you do?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Very well, I’ll have them signed over to you along with powder and shot.”

  “Thank you, My Lord.”

  Howe waved Gabe’s thanks away. “I wish my frigate captains felt the way you do,” he said.

  “Well, in truth I am one of your captains,” Gabe said.

  “That you are!” Howe exclaimed with a smile. He then stood and walked out on the quarter gallery. “How is Gil doing?” he asked using Lord Anthony’s first name.

  “Fine, My Lord. He is a father now…a little girl.”

  “No boy to follow in his father’s footsteps.”

  “Not yet, My Lord.”

  Howe then gazed toward the xebec. “A queer looking ship…the xebec.”

  “Aye,” Gabe replied. “But she is fast and her guns pack a hell of a wallop.”

  “Yes, I read your report. I’ve never figured out where they come up with the design, though I’ve pondered it on occasion.”

  Gabe understood Howe’s way of thinking, as for the last few days he had pondered the same questions. The ship was a wonderful looking vessel. She was long and sharp in appearance with a high platform that extended aft of the rudder, called an open overhang. It carried three masts but with lateen sails in addition to combinations of square, fore, and aft sails.

  “It resembles a galley the way it’s pierced for sweeps,” Gabe said.

  “Aye, that and the prominent beak. She’s fast because she is so narrow.”

  “Yes, she’s made to slice through the water.”

  Howe gave a sigh then turned and made to go back into his cabin. Gabe stood aside to allow him room to pass.

  “Do you think Gil could use her?” Howe asked.

  Damn right, Gabe thought, but replied, “I am sure, sir. As you know our resources are stretched.”

  “Aye,” Howe said, nodding his head as he sat down behind his desk. “The damn spies tell me France will enter the war with the Colonies soon…if they’ve not already done so. You know how slowly the mails and dispatches are. But tell me, Captain, does that ship…the presence of that ship in these waters mean anything to you?”

  Gabe gathered his thoughts before replying and in doing so noticed how tired the admiral looked. “It’s of Mediterranean decent, sir. My master says she’s not a tartar so he makes her out to be Spanish. We know the Dons render help to the rebels when they can. Therefore, My Lord, I would guess Spain is considering joining France and become an ally to the Americans. This ship is probably a private venture to test the waters, so to speak.”

  Howe nodded in the affirmative then surprised Gabe slightly when he said, “Your master knows his ships. It’s a wise young captain that heeds the master. They usually know. Tell your brother I asked of him and my congratulations on the child.”

  Gabe, who had seated himself upon returning inside the cabin, now rose. “Thank you, My Lord. I’m sure Gil will be glad to be remembered by you.”

  Lord Howe then asked a question that surprised Gabe. “When did Gil get promoted to rear admiral?”

  “In July, 1775.”

  “Ahem…well with half those on the list retiring I’d not be surprised to see him promoted to vice admiral soon.”

  “May I repeat My Lord’s words?” Gabe asked.

  “Aye, repeat them all you want to. However, my supposition is nothing more.”

  I’ll bet, Gabe thought.

  As he was leaving Howe called after him, “I’ll expect a report on those carronades or I’ll take them back.”

  “I’ll report,” Gabe replied.

  Once topside, the flag captain caught up with Gabe. “Likes you, he does. Rarely ever takes up half that much time with a junior captain.” As they neared the gangway the captain said, “Well, be off with you.” Patting Gabe on the back, he said, “Have a care, Gabe. Your orders will be sent over quickly I expect. His Lordship plans to sail on the morning tide for England.”

  Now Gabe understood why His Lordship had been so willing to let the carronades stay aboard Peregrine and Dasher. It also explained the willingness to let the xebec be sailed back to Barbados for Lord Anthony’s use. Generally, an admiral always had an officer he was ready to promote. However, Lord Howe had been on station since 1775 or 1776 so any of his officers that were qualified for command probably were ready to go home with His Lordship.

  How would I have felt? Gabe wondered. A ship or home? Settling himself in the gig Gabe smiled at Paco. “To Dasher, Paco, I’ve a word for Captain Frances Markham.”

  With that smile on your face I bet you do, Paco thought as he ordered the gig to be shoved off.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Sir Victor was hurting when he returned to the ship. His increased activity had caused his shoulder wound to open as evidenced by the growing red stain on the dressing. Livesey, the surgeon, had said the ball had gone completely through, just missing the lung. He had gently probed the wound but found only a small amount of debris. This was removed but a drain was placed in each side to help drain the wound of any suppuration.

  “It’s good you are wearing a silk shirt. Silk is the least damaging to the tissues in case of a wound,” Livesey said as he went about applying a new dressing. Gabe came down to see how Sir Victor was doing, having been told of the man’s obvious distress once he returned to the ship. Shunning a bosun’s chair had not helped.

  “One must put his pride aside,” Livesey said,
scolding his patient for putting pride ahead of care for the wound and climbing up and through the entry port.

  Seeing Gabe, Sir Victor spoke, “A minute of your time please Captain…when this ole mother hen finishes.”

  Gabe, unable to hide his grin, said, “I’ll await you in my cabin.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Sir Victor replied between grimaces.

  As he walked out the door, Livesey called after Gabe. “Captain, it would be good if you were able to convince our foreign affairs agent that should he fail to take care of his malady now, he will certainly pay for it later.”

  Gabe nodded his answer and made his way back to his cabin where he informed Nesbit he’d soon have a visitor and some strong refreshment might be in order. After a second thought he amended his statement. A strong refreshment for our visitor, that is.

  “Sir Victor?” Dagan asked. He had been sitting at the cabin table when Gabe entered.

  “Aye,” Gabe replied.

  After a moment Dagan said, “The French are in it now. I feel it.”

  “Maybe so,” Gabe answered, knowing it was a high probability.

  Sir Victor was soon announced by the marine sentry. Nesbit had mixed one of his special drinks…a concoction of rum, lime juice, and sugar.

  “Careful sir,” he said as he sat the drink before Sir Victor, who immediately took a heavy slug of the tasty liquid. “It packs a punch, sir.”

  Taking a deep breath, Sir Victor swore. “Damme, but I feel that down to me toes.”

  “A rum punch it is, sir,” Nesbit said.

  “Where do I start?” Sir Victor said, his head now feeling the effects of the alcohol on an empty stomach. After a pause, he asked, “What day is this…day of the month that is.”

  “February the tenth,” Dagan answered.

  “Well, gentlemen, unless there has been a change of heart I would think we are now at war with France.” Not waiting for any questions, he continued, “In early December the French foreign minister was quoted as saying the King was ready to recognize the independence of the United States. He is…er…was to sign a commercial treaty and contingent defensive alliance. The information was to go out to all of France’s holdings so that upon February the sixth, 1778, all the French commanders, both ashore and at sea, would know and react.”

  “Aye, I see where this forewarned knowledge would put the French at a great advantage over our ships,” Gabe said. “We pass a French ship one day and pass honours. The next day they fire a broadside on our same unsuspecting ship. Lord Howe is leaving for England. Is he aware of this? He didn’t mention it when I went aboard the flagship.”

  “He is now,” Sir Victor answered. “I stopped there before returning here. He is sending dispatches to the fleet at Philadelphia and New York. Admiral Graves will see that dispatches will be sent from there southward.”

  “Does His Lordship not know they’re preparing to evacuate Philadelphia?”

  “Aye, but he’s sending reinforcements from Halifax and New York to shore up our defences. After the failed attempt on Nova Scotia and Canada, Lord Howe feels the troops are needed more at Philadelphia.”

  “A little late I’d say,” Dagan commented.

  “Aye,” Gabe agreed.

  “I don’t disagree,” Sir Victor said. “However, the reinforcements may stall the American advance until more help arrives.”

  “Or…the French,” Gabe said.

  “Yes, there’s that,” Sir Victor admitted. “Spain will take advantage of the alliance…that’s something you can bet on.”

  “I agree,” Gabe answered. “But they have very few holdings…West Florida, Havana, and Puerto Rico. So what are the Dons hoping to gain?”

  “Gibraltar or possibly even England. We could be invaded with little to defend ourselves,” Sir Victor replied tersely, thinking of his homeland. “Since the Seven Year War (French and Indian War) most of our fleet has been laid up. We are nowhere as near as strong as we were. And what we have is stretched so thin it wouldn’t take much to break us. I almost forgot,” Sir Victor said, reaching into his bag. He pulled out several papers. One was obviously the sailing orders, but the other two?

  Well, he’d find out later, Gabe thought as he opened the sailing orders. “We are to depart immediately,” he said.

  “I thought as much,” Sir Victor responded. “They are busy as bees getting the flagship ready to put to sea. Shall we notify the others?” he asked, meaning the commanders of the other ships.

  “There will be time for that later,” Gabe said in an obvious hurry to get underway.

  Aye, Dagan thought to himself. Sir Victor should have given Gabe the sailing orders upon coming aboard. His not doing so could put Gabe in a bad light with the commander-in-chief for taking his own sweet time complying with orders.

  Going on deck, Gabe was about to call for Lavery when he recalled he was aboard the xebec with a prize crew. Wiley would now have to fill in for the first lieutenant. Well, it’s time I see his seamanship, Gabe thought. I just wish it wasn’t under the eye of Lord Howe. He briefly thought of taking the ship out himself then remembered his brother letting a junior lieutenant take Drakkar out of harbour under Admiral Graves watchful eye. What was it he had said to Buck when questioned? “No time like the present for him to learn.” What more pressure can be upon him than the admiral’s eye? Well, Lieutenant Anthony had poured sweat but got the ship underway with only a couple of helpful whispers from the master.

  “Mr Wiley.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “You are now acting first lieutenant. Which of the midshipmen do you wish to promote to acting third lieutenant or do you have a master’s mate in mind?”

  “Hawks is the senior, sir.”

  “Very well,” Gabe replied. “You may inform Mr Hawks he may temporarily move his gear into your cabin and you into the first lieutenant’s cabin.” Wiley’s eyes lit up with these orders.

  “However,” Gabe added, “let’s delay that until the first watch. For now, have a signal sent to our other ships to prepare to get underway. Upon that you may prepare Peregrine to set sail.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Wiley replied, still excited. “Ah…Captain.”

  “Yes, Lieutenant Wiley.”

  “Thank you, sir. For now and back in Portsmouth.”

  “You are more than welcome,” Gabe replied. “Now don’t make me think I was amiss in my judgment by ramming the flag ship. I’m sure His Lordship would have us on the beach the rest of our lives.”

  Standing to the side, Gunnells chuckled to himself. Ramming the flagship indeed. I doubt the captain would let us get even close to such a thing but it would help Wiley’s anxiety by the captain making light of the situation.

  ***

  Wiley did fine, and without the convoy ships slowing down progress, the convoy escorts along with their prize quickly set sail. Once over the horizon, Gabe ordered the group to heave to and captains repair on board. It was a surprised group that met in Gabe’s cabin.

  He discussed his meeting with Lord Howe and the news about the French.

  “You can bet things will get hot now,” Markham said. And like Gabe, he felt like it would only be a matter of time before the Dons joined in.

  As the men were departing for their ships, Lavery said, “I hear you’ve moved into my cabin, Wiley.”

  “Aye, and I hope to stay there.”

  “So do I,” Lavery responded, enjoying his first taste of command, yet knowing it would be temporary. The xebec would be considered a fifth rate, which required the rank of captain. Therefore, he’d not be in command long. However, Lord Anthony would surely vacate one of the smaller ship’s commanders to take command of the prize. This would create an opening. The only other lieutenant senior to him would be SeaHorse’s First Lieutenant Lamb. He was senior but was he ready? Well, he’d do everything he could to show he was ready and that was no error.

  Chapter Thirty

  The voyage back to Barbados was not hampered by slow me
rchant ships that had to be continuously coerced to keep station or to make more sail. This allowed the group to clip along at eight knots, a speed that would take less than half the time to reach port. Sir Victor sat next to Dagan and watched as he carved on a small piece of whalebone.

  “What are you doing?” Sir Victor asked as he adjusted his sling and sat down by Dagan.

  “I’m carving a likeness of Peregrine on this bone.”

  “Do you do that for every ship?” Sir Victor asked.

  “No, sometimes I make a model out of balsam wood or make a carving from a good piece of oak wood. I do have one or the other from every ship Gabe and I have been on.”

  “What will you do with them?” Sir Victor asked, shifting around some more trying to find a comfortable position for the wounded shoulder.

  “Most likely give them to Gabe or his son at some point,” Dagan replied, feeling heaviness in his chest at the thought of the child Faith had just lost.

  “What kind of bone is that?” the curious Sir Victor asked, very amazed at Dagan’s craftsmanship.

  “It’s a whalebone, actually part of its jaw.”

  Then before Sir Victor could ask Dagan added, “I traded a jug of rum for it back in Portsmouth.” He paused in his carving and pulled out his pipe. He packed it full of tobacco from a small round tin, then lit it.

  Enjoying the aroma of the fresh-lit pipe, Sir Victor leaned back against the taffrail and closed his eyes for a moment, dozing. The shrill sound of the bosun’s pipe brought him up with a jerk.

  Chuckling, Dagan said, “They’ve just piped make and mend.”

  Seeing the puzzled look, Dagan took a breath, put down his carving knife and piece of whalebone. He reached for the pipe dangling between his teeth, and packed the tobacco with his finger. Then after taking a puff he explained, “Wind, weather, and the enemy permitting, Thursday afternoons and most Sunday afternoons are considered make and mend.”

  The part about the enemy permitting struck home as it made Sir Victor recall an event that had actually happened once while he had been aboard Peregrine.