by Michael Aye
Now Gunnells was going over different channels into Saint Augustine Harbour. “The North channel is deeper but narrow, while the South channel is much wider. However, there’s a sandbar with only eight to nine feet of water at low tide with breakers separating both of the South channels entrances.”
“Along here,” the master explained using calipers to point with, “The water is also shallow with more breakers. His Lordship’s flagship and the frigate will have to anchor just off the north breaker while it’s possible for SeaWolf, Swan, Pigeon and Audacity to enter the harbour. I’m not sure about LeFrelon. More than likely Audacity will be in much use plying between the anchorage and Saint Augustine.”
“Audacity’s captain won’t much like his new livelihood I’m thinking,” Jackson said with a smile on his face.
“It’s in the scriptures already I’m betting,” Gunnells responded.
“What about the harbour and the city?” Gabe asked the old master.
“Several rivers, the Matanzas, San Sebastions, and St. Marks all flow into the harbour. Most places there’s nigh on to thirty feet, so if there was a deep channel there’d be a good anchorage. The harbour sets between Anastasia Island and Saint Augustine. There’s a lighthouse on Anastasia Island. There’s a huge castle that’s been turned into a fort right here in Saint Augustine, but I don’t see it being much help. I was here in ‘70 and the cannons looked ancient then. I’d be afraid to fire one if they haven’t been replaced. More ’n likely kill more of us than the enemy,” the old master said, matter-of-factly. “They were probably put there by the Spaniards when they first built the place two hunered years ago.”
Then, turning back to the charts Gunnells said, “I’m betting the squadron will be at anchorage here,” using his pipe as a pointer. “That being said, we should drop anchor alongside the flagship by midday, Lord willing.”
Admiral Lord Anthony stepped down from the coach as a footman opened the door. The man continued holding the door as Everette Hazard dressed in his finest as the flag lieutenant, made his way out of the coach. If the footman noticed the pinned sleeve he made no sign. Hazard was somewhat self-conscious of his one empty sleeve and was bewildered at Lord Anthony’s offer to make him his flag lieutenant. He could never remember a one-armed flag lieutenant, certainly not one who had just been promoted to lieutenant after serving before the mast. Gabe had something to do with this appointment, he was sure.
While only a lieutenant himself, Gabe was Admiral Lord Anthony’s brother, so there was little doubt in Hazard’s mind as to where the recommendation had come from. Once he had asked Bart, the admiral’s cox’n if he thought he could handle the requirements.
“Sure yew can. Alls yews got to do is stand around making sure ’is lordship is taken care of proper like when theys guest and dignaterry’s about. Course yew got to fetch and carry his lordship’s ’portant papers and such but yew’s a do fine.”
“But why would he choose me,” Hazard pressed on seeking to confirm his suspicions that Gabe had been instrumental in his appointment.
Bart’s reply was solemn and as elementary as Hazard had ever heard. “’Cause us-un’s take care of our own.” Stated so, Hazard never asked another question. This was his first ceremonial task as the new flag lieutenant and he wanted to do a good job and show the admiral his confidence in him had not been misplaced.
The two other footmen, who seemed to appear just at the precise moment, pulled a pair of heavy ornate doors open. Once inside Government House a clerk greeted the pair and ushered them into the governor’s office. Anthony glanced at Everette and smiled to himself. Everette seemed awestruck as he took in the pillared corridor, and the huge paintings that lined the walls.
As the usher approached a large painted door he stepped to the side to let Anthony and Everette pass through before he announced, “Admiral Lord Anthony and his flag lieutenant, sir.”
Governor Patrick Tonyn stood from behind his desk to greet his visitors. He was debonair and elegantly dressed in all white. He had a firm handshake and you got the feeling he was a man qualified for the job at hand. “A glass of wine, my Lord, lieutenant?”
As both officers responded, Governor Tonyn sent a servant for the wine then had the men seat themselves. When the servant returned Tonyn explained as the two men looked at their glasses.
“Sangria, gentlemen. One of the Spanish wines that I find light and refreshing for the midday. Some may think it sweet after drinking the usual dry British wine.”
The wine was sweeter than Anthony was used to, but it did have a pleasant taste and was chilled.
“Have you ever been to Florida, my Lord?” Tonyn asked.
“No, I’ve not had the privilege.”
“Then let me fill you in on some of the history which I think will better able you to carry out your orders. In 1763, Havana was given to the Spanish for the Province of Florida. Most of the Spanish residents chose to depart for Cuba. However, some stayed. Mostly the very poor, many blacks and individuals of mixed blood. Even a few of the wealthier stayed to maintain their extensive properties. I’m sure most in this group are actually spies.”
“In November 1775, I issued a proclamation that invited loyal subjects who were being harassed by the rebels in the northern colonies to come to Florida and we would give them land to start anew. Since then rebels out of Savannah, Georgia and surrounding areas have raided us. They kill, plunder then make their way back to safety before I even know they’ve been a foot.”
“I ordered a number of forts built to help defend us from these invasions. I’ve authorized a force of militia to be raised. A man of considerable merit, Thomas Browne, commands the militia. You will meet him and others at a meeting tomorrow.”
“Now one other thing. Admiral Howe is shipping us prisoners of war. Some of which are well to do. If the prisoners give their parole, I give them the freedom of the city. Others are being kept on the sloop, Otter, which has been turned into a prison ship and still others are kept at the lighthouse.”
Tonyn who had been sitting on his desk while talking let out a deep sigh, then stood up. Glancing at the remaining wine he put the glass to his lips and finished the fruity liquid.
“Now sir, you’ve heard of the damn privateers taking the Betsy and her load of gunpowder right on our doorsteps. Then another group had the audacity to sail right into our harbour and fire on our ships and town. Had it not been for Lieutenant Knight, we’d never have fired a shot in return. Now we seem to be in danger of losing all our supply ships without which we can’t survive. A day will come when we are self-sufficient. However, we are not there yet. Your job, admiral, is to make the coast of Florida too hot for these damn rogues.”
Sitting in his chair while letting the governor speak had given Anthony’s knee time to stiffen up so he stretched out his legs, flexed them, and then stood up.
“Do you have any idea as to the location the privateers might be using as a main base?”
“Anywhere! Hell man! The Keys is full of coves suitable for hiding. There’s fresh water on most of them and deep water anchoring at some. Cuba is only a short distance from the Keys. However, the rogues could just as well be anywhere from Savannah to the Carolinas.” Lowering his eyes and shaking his head, Tonyn said in truth, “I have no clue where the base is or if there is a specific base. As I said before, I’m sure some of our esteemed Spanish citizens are nothing more than spies, keeping the rebels well informed.”
Then the governor returned to his chair behind the large desk. The meeting was over. As Tonyn shook Anthony’s hand he said, “I will do all I can to support you but without the supply ships we can’t even support ourselves. I wish you God’s speed and good hunting, Admiral.”
Chapter Six
Master and Commander Sir Raymond Knight had not gotten use to the new title, or to the command of HMS LeFrelon. The ship was a captured French corvette of twenty guns. However, as per Royal Navy protocol the day he had taken command as master and commander she ce
ased to be a corvette and became a sloop.
He was also amazed at the attitude and relationship between Admiral Anthony and the other captains and officers under his command. They all seemed to be so at ease and unafraid to voice their thoughts and recommendations when asked, unlike Commodore Meriwether’s officers, who were afraid to speak due to his endless ridicule and sarcasm.
Standing in the admiral’s cabin, Knight was still awed at the spacious, even elegant place. It had to be over thirty feet wide. The mahogany dining table contained ten leaves. The chairs were of finely tooled leather. He tried to relax, to reassure himself. He would not have been promoted had it not been felt he could handle the job. He had been knighted for his bravery in battle. Sir Raymond Knight, Knight of the Bath. His name and title had been the object of wardroom humor on more than one occasion. Unconsciously, he touched his neck which caused him to wince. The burn had just about healed, leaving the skin thickened and scarred and somewhat darkened. The burn had reached from his neck down to his chest and upper arm. Wearing his uniform made matters even worse. On board LeFrelon, he never wore his coat, except as specifically required by duty. An outcry of laughter broke Knight’s revive. Someone must have said something very amusing to cause such an outcry. Looking up Knight noticed a young, tall, dark-complected lieutenant approaching him.
“I’m Gabe,” the lieutenant said by way of introduction as he held out his hand. “Looks like Lieutenant Kerry is catching the devil from Lieutenant Bush,” Gabe said addressing the laughter.
“Aye,” Knight replied. “I’m told they’re related so no doubt the banter is friendly.”
Shaking Knight’s hand Gabe saw him wince and regretted his momentary absence of mind. However, other than the quick involuntary reaction, Knight gave no other hint of what he must be feeling. Gabe quickly looked at the tall prematurely graying man and decided instantly that he liked him. Knight had given a firm handshake with a quick smile on his face to cover the pain he had felt.
“I understand it was you who captured LeFrelon,” Knight said. “I’m grateful, she’s a good sailor.”
Feeling a bit embarrassed, Gabe corrected the commander, “I was supernumerary on the ship that took LeFrelon. It was actually Lieutenant Markham commanding Swan that took her.”
“Don’t you believe a word of that, sir.” This from Markham who had been standing close and overhearing the conversation joined in. “No sir, it was Lieutenant Anthony alone. A cutlass in his teeth and a pistol in each hand he laid about the damn privateer like a man crazed. Hacking and cutting his way through the cutthroats with cannon’s thundering, blades clinging and musket ball flying through the air like a hive of bees.”
“Were you not wounded, sir?” Knight asked Gabe thoughtfully.
Before Gabe could answer, Markham continued, “Wounded…wounded you ask? Well, hell no. He was killed. Killed dead, sir, I swear, didn’t you know like a cat, Gabe’s got nine lives.”
As Markham finished his outlandish tale the group of officers howled with laughter. Smiling in spite of being the brunt of Markham’s joke, Knight thought again, no sir, these men were nothing like those commanded by Commodore Meriwether.
CLINK…CLINK…CLINK... Captain Buck, Lord Anthony’s flag captain, overhearing Markham’s narrative tried to compose himself as he tapped a wine glass with a spoon. A concerned Silas, the admiral’s cook, sat in the corner. He was tempted to take the spoon out of the captain’s hand. That wine glass was crystal and if Buck broke it with that damn spoon Lady Deborah would never forgive him.
The group quieted down and much to Silas’s relief Buck laid the spoon down. “Gentlemen,” Buck spoke to the room at large, “His Lordship was detained at the meeting with the Governor as you were all told, but his barge is approaching. Not a minute too soon I’m thinking as his generosity with a canter of wine appears to have taken on broader proportions. I hope there’s sufficient left that Silas won’t have to go ashore before Lord Anthony can have his supper.”
This brought chuckles from the officers. When Lord Anthony came aboard he went directly to his dining room and addressed the issues that had been discussed at the Governor’s meeting. He also outlined his plan of action and it was a determined group that returned to their ships.
“Like old times is it not?” Markham said to Earl. “Pair up and patrol.”
“Aye,” a smiling Earl responded. “I just hope we’re as lucky with a prize or two as his lordship was when we were in the West Indies.”
“Aye,” Markham replied, his mind already on how much his share would be as a ship’s captain compared to when he was a midshipman.
The wind came from the north-northwest. Lord Anthony had shifted his flag to Merlin leaving his flag lieutenant, a disappointed and spitting-’n’-sputtering Captain Buck, behind on HMS Warrior. While Warrior was a fine third rate, she was much too big and cumbersome for the patrol Lord Anthony had in mind. Warrior made a fine sight lying at anchor where just the threat of her guns would ward off most attempts to invade Saint Augustine. But Warrior would not serve well in the Keys. “We need smaller ships with shallow droughts to get in among the Keys as we patrol south along Florida’s coast,” he explained. He had also left the ketch, HMS Pigeon, and the cutter, HMS Audacity, as Anthony wanted this to be a quick patrol and they’d never be able to keep up. Sailing as close to the coast as they were the bluish water was almost clear and alive with all types of fish. Gulls filled the air; the gawking birds would spread their wings and hover in the air. Then, off they’d go, harrying other birds that came into their space.
A group of off watch seamen had fashioned fishing lines and one had caught a nice size red snapper. As he was pulling the fish in a barracuda flashed by. His body like silver daggers as he bit the snapper into, leaving the fisherman with only the head for his troubles.
Bart, standing alongside Lord Anthony and Merlin’s captain, Stephen Earl, had watched the scene as it had taken place in the clear water. “Makes you think about wot Gabe reported don’t it?” Bart volunteered. “That frigate just tearing apart the brig the way he did. No conscience, that bugger, a vicious one I’m thinking.”
Used to Bart’s uncanny ability to bring one’s thoughts to bear, Anthony agreed. “He’s vicious no doubt, but what would cause a man to be so?”
“Are you thinking we could be dealing with Montique, my Lord?”
“No, Stephen. Montique would have sunk the ship, but he would have taken off everything of value before doing so. I think we’re dealing with a different type villain this time.”
“Deck there!” The lookout called, “A signal from HMS SeaWolf, sail in sight.”
“Have Gabe investigate,” a visibly excited Anthony ordered Earl. “Then signal LeFrelon to assist.”
“Aye, my Lord,” Earl replied but before he could give his orders the lookout called down again.
“SeaWolf ’as signaled three sails from the sou’west.”
“Damme, but this may be a profitable day,” Earl exclaimed unable to keep the excitement from his voice.
Once Earl had gone about his duties, Bart edged up to Lord Anthony. “We’s a fight ahead o’ us today. I feel hit in me bones. No sightseers today I’m thinking.”
“Why you damned old bilge rat,” Anthony retorted, “I bet you don’t even know where your blade is and if you do, I’ll bet the blade has rusted in the scabbard.”
“Aye, it may be with us standing ’bout all da time but I’s betting Silas has got some slush wot’ll free it up, and hit ain’t too late to put a new edge on it.”
“Sail ho! Three sails in sight. Two be schooner and one be a bigger fish.”
Hearing this Earl looked at Anthony and rolled his eyes, “Gawd,” he groaned and called to the first lieutenant, “take a glass to the mast, Mr. Rodney, and tell us what you see. Damme man, his Lordship is right over there, do I have to remind you of your duties in front of the admiral?”
A sheepish Bart turned to larboard to hide his grin as he whispered
to Anthony, “Earl’s a cheeky bugger, ain’t he? Sounds like Captain Buck when he says ‘Gawd’ don’t he?”
Trying not to chuckle, Anthony replied, “Aye, that he does, but let’s go below and let Captain Earl run his ship.”
Chapter Seven
Gabe stood perched against the forward bulwark, glass to his eye. He braced himself to get a better view as SeaWolf plunged through another wave. The dip and roll made it difficult to focus on the approaching ships. Two schooners and a small frigate. The schooners were clearly a pair of Jonathan’s but the frigate…he couldn’t be sure…probably Spanish, but not the same one that had blasted the brig a few days back.
Another dip of SeaWolf’s bow allowed a cresting wave to come aboard, fairly drenching Gabe then running down the scuppers. Damn, Gabe said to himself somewhat embarrassed. He’d been so focused on the approaching sails he’d not paid attention and now was paying the price.
“Decided to take a bath did you?” Dagan asked. It was what the first lieutenant had wanted to ask but didn’t, not yet sure of his relationship with the captain.
Glaring at Dagan, Gabe snapped, “It’s a warm day, why not?”
Dagan not moved by Gabe’s attempt at sternness asked cheerfully, “Should I have Lum bring you some soap or will a towel do?”
Unable to act irritated any longer Gabe said, “A towel will do.”
The sun shone bright on the sparkling water. Little vapors were seen arising from Gabe’s uniform as he gave his hands and face a final rub with the towel. “Make a signal to the flag, Mr. Lancaster, three privateer, two schooners and one frigate of twenty-eight guns.”
“Aye, cap’n,” the youth responded then hurried off to do his bidding before the cap’n caught him smiling.
Turning to the first lieutenant, Gabe asked, “Where lies LeFrelon?”
“She’s overreaching us now, sir,” Lavery volunteered before Jackson could speak.