by Michael Aye
“I surrender,” Caleb finally said.
Dawkins had gotten three glasses and was pouring the hock for the group. “This is the last bottle of hock, cap’n.”
“Well, you’d better pour yourself a glass and enjoy what we have left,” Gabe told his secretary.
This brought a smile to Dawkin’s lips. “Don’t worry, sir, it’ll not go to waste.”
“Likely he’s been taking lessons from Bart,” Dagan said.
“Well now Bart has learned a trick or two along the way,” Dawkins answered, “But I believe I’ve got more time on the head than he’s got in His Majesty’s Navy.”
This brought a chuckle from the group. Dawkins picked up the bottle with the remaining hock and ambled off toward the pantry.
As the ole man entered the pantry he heard Caleb asked, “Dagan, have you heard from your folks in Virginia lately?”
Gabe instantly picked up on Caleb’s question and he eyed Dagan who was eyeing Caleb.
“You interested in the whole clan or was there somebody particular?” Dagan asked, his head tilted back and angled a bit, his arms across his chest.
“Well, I’d like to know about the whole family,” Caleb stammered, “but I was…ah…I am particularly interested in how Kitty is doing.”
Enjoying the riposte between his two friends Gabe couldn’t help but feel sympathetic towards Caleb. He knew how he longed for Faith and even though it had been only a day or so he had a burning desire to be back with her, to hold her, to feel those lips against his, to…ah…well…just to be with her. Dagan clearing his throat broke Gabe’s train of thought.
“Well there was a letter sometime back,” Dagan said then left the sentence hanging.
“Well,” Caleb prompted.
“Well, I think you need to study your chess game a little more,” Dagan said as he continued to toy with Caleb.
“Damn the chess game man, the letter, was there anything in the letter about me?”
“Humph! Not that I recall.”
Then seeing the forlorn look creep across Caleb’s face, Dagan appeared to be deep in thought then said, “Well, maybe there was one bit where Uncle Andre said Kitty asked to be remembered to you and should you desire to come visit again you’d be welcome.”
The joy that filled Caleb’s face was unmistakable, then a frown, “Why, dammit all, Dagan, why didn’t you tell me?” Caleb exclaimed in a perturbed manner.
“Cause you didn’t ask,” Dagan flung back.
“Humph!” Caleb then reached for his glass and downed the hock. “I think I’ll go topside and listen to Lum before I retire. He at least knows something about manners.”
As Caleb left the cabin Dagan looked at Gabe and smiled, “I expect we might be losing Caleb before too long.”
“My thoughts as well,” Gabe replied then noticed Dagan staring out the stern window into the dark.
“Not before he’s needed though, not before he’s needed.” Dagan’s quiet predictions always gave Gabe an eerie feeling. He watched in silence as without another word Dagan stood up from the table, reached for his pipe and tobacco then made his way out.
Not the way I would like for the evening to end, Dawkins thought as he sat in the pantry nursing the remains of the hock, not the way I wanted it to end at all.
By midday an easterly wind was blowing more than a half gale. On shore, Admiral Lord Anthony paused before he entered the governor’s coach taking him back to Saint Augustine Harbour, where he would board his barge and make the trip out to the anchorage.
Unlike Antigua, Saint Augustine’s channel entrance was too shallow to allow a ship of the line to enter the safety of the harbour. The ride from the governor’s house was not a pleasant ride. Between potholes and the wind the coach rocked viciously. Looking out at the harbour Anthony could see the wind had churned the normally clear waters to a dark, cloudy appearance with the waves rushing ashore leaving all manner of crushed shells, jellyfish and other creatures in the sand.
It was coming on to hurricane season. That was the topic of the conversation with Governor Tonyn. Without a safe harbour, his ships, with the exception of Audacity and Pigeon who could enter the harbour, would have to stand off and possibly run before the wind. The governor, a landsman, admitted he’d never considered the safety of ships from the elements when he requested a naval presence. The meeting had hit a sour note but then Anthony reminded the governor any storm that created peril for his ships would do the same for privateers. This seemed to pacify Tonyn. The slamming of a shutter as the wind picked up, bending the palms outside Tonyn’s office window added finality to the situation. A driving rain had started by the time Anthony made it to the harbour and his waiting barge.
He was tempted to have the coach take him back to the governor’s house until the weather moderated but knew in the long run he’d be more comfortable aboard Warrior and away from politicians. Stepping down from the coach Anthony turned a shoulder to the wind and rain. He cocked his head to one side but still had to use his hand to keep his hat from blowing off his head. Out of nowhere Bart seemed to materialize with Dagan at his side. The two had likely made a trip to the Mermaid while he had been at the governor’s. It was just as likely they had brought a bottle back to be shared by the barges crew.
As Anthony settled in the barge Bart handed him a boat cloak then adjusted his old tarpaulin.
“Winds sharper than a whore’s tongue,” Bart said to Anthony. Then turning his attention to the barge’s crew ordered, “Stir your stumps mates; unlimber your timbers and pull.”
The dripping sailors went about Bart’s bidding confident a “tot” of rum waited them at the flagship. The bowman pushed off and the two banks of oars came down in perfect unison. Seemingly oblivious to the wind and rain, Anthony’s mind was on the report Gabe and Markham had delivered upon their return the previous day.
They would have to spend more time patrolling that area for privateers. This was now obvious and it pleased Tonyn to hear they’d destroyed the privateer. Finch’s report had also sounded promising. However, the more he thought about it Anthony was sure Bart had been right. The Spaniards were involved, but who and how? Too many questions and not enough answers.
Well, I’ll keep the Carolina coast guessing as to when we might make an appearance, Anthony decided, but I am going to focus on the south…the Keys and Havana.
It was what Lord Anthony missed most of all when at sea. With nothing but open sky on the horizon and the deck lively beneath his feet, he would stand at the weather side of the quarterdeck and enjoy the peace of the early morn. Now Captain Earl leaned on the weather rail, as was his place. Merlin was his ship. Anthony had already deprived the captain of his quarters by shifting his flag to the Merlin. The loss of a cabin compared to the honour of flying the admiral’s flag was an inconvenience most captains would gladly endure. Earl was no different.
Anthony had felt the desire…nay, the need to go on this patrol. He needed the feel of the sea vibrating through his body. He felt that if he could get back to the open sea he could get his mind in tune with the mission. He felt dry-docked at the Saint Augustine anchorage so he had shifted his flag to Merlin in spite of Captain Buck’s protest.
Now they were almost to the Florida Keys. SeaWolf was in sight ahead and Audacity was off the weather side almost a beam. The sun was an hour above the horizon and already bearing down like a torch. The sky was a light blue and the sea a deep aqua. Under full sail Merlin ploughed her way through the rolling sea.
Bart approached with a mug in his hand. “A bit o’ lime juice brought by Cap’n Earl’s man, who said it were better than coffee when the sun was already hotter ’n whore’s drawers.”
Anthony took the glass and found the lime juice cool and sweetened. Not the usual sour taste he was used too.
Seeing Anthony peer at his glass Bart volunteered, “’e put a bit sugar into hit.”
Anthony had left Silas aboard Warrior trying not to overcrowd Merlin’s already close qua
rters. Earl’s servant, an ole topman named Lamb, had done his best to please the admiral.
“Deck there!” The lookout called down, “Signal from Audacity, flotsam in the water.”
Captain Earl turned to Lord Anthony, “Heave to?”
“Aye,” Anthony replied, “and signal SeaWolf our intentions.”
“Aye, aye, my lord. Mr. Scott, let’s be getting the signals bent on.”
Then before the midshipman could respond the lookout called down, “Deck there! Signal from SeaWolf, strange sail in sight.”
Anthony could feel his adrenalin rise as his heart began to race. “Captain Earl, please disregard my last order to heave to and make all sail to yonder sighting. Signal SeaWolf to investigate strange sail, and then advise Audacity to follow after a look at the flotsam.”
“Aye, my lord,” Earl replied. He could feel a sense of excitement at the sighting of the sail.
“Deck there! Signal from SeaWolf, strange sail ’as went about and ’as headed back toward the east.”
Bart looked at Lord Anthony, “To the Keys, do you think?”
“Aye, that’s my thinking. Like a fox looking for a hole with the hounds at his heels.”
Earl approached Anthony and said, “With the wind almost astern we could sail another point or two to starboard. Then maybe we can overhaul the chase. From her present position she’ll have to tack before she closes with the nearest Key and by that time it’s possible we’ll be in position to cut off her escape.”
Nodding his agreement Anthony said, “She’s your ship, captain, sail her as you think best.” Then as an afterthought he added, “Signal SeaWolf your intention.”
“Aye, my lord,” Earl answered then went about ordering the change.
Within the turn of the glass it was obvious they were vastly overhauling the strange ship.
The lookout had called down, “She’s ’as the cut of a Dago, zur.”
Bart had also been eyeing the ship and turned to Anthony, “She’s a big un. I bet she wuz a merchantman turned privateer and I’ll bet she’s loaded to the gills.”
“Aye, Bart, my thoughts as well.”
With SeaWolf and Merlin converging on the chase they’d soon be upon her. Captain Earl approached Anthony again, “Beat to quarters, my lord?”
“I think that would be appropriate.”
Then to punctuate the order the lookout called down, “The chase ’as fired on SeaWolf, zur. No ’it as I can tell.”
“Captain Earl?”
“Aye, my lord!”
“As soon as convenient and we are in range have the bow chasers put into action.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Bart had gone below and now he returned. “Your weapons, sir. I figured yew’s be wanting us-uns to help out today.”
“Not ready to leave the fighting to the younger tars,” Anthony taunted his cox’n.
“Nay, my lord, maybe the exercise will do us-uns some good. Silas’s cooking ’as turned us fat. Lady Deborah won’t ’ardly recognize yew wid yews girth ’spanding such.”
“My girth,” Anthony exclaimed, sucking in his stomach. “Damme Bart but you’ve taken on a portly appearance yourself.”
“Well, maybe I ’as but it’s a wise man wot builds a shed over ’is tools.”
“What tools is that?” Anthony asked sarcastically.
“Me wedding tackle, that’s wot tools.”
“Humph!” Anthony snorted, “They’re probably rusted off from lack of use by now.”
Bart cocked his head and very stoically replied, “Nay, I use ’em regular like. Back in Saint Augustine they’s this little mulatto who can’t ’ardly wait till old Bart is there to dip ’is wick. She be a delightfully naughty little wench if they ever was one.”
Not believing his ear, Anthony suddenly became serious. “Why Bart, I didn’t know you had a steady woman. Is this more than just a fling with a trollop?”
“I ain’t sure yet,” Bart replied. “’Er daddy be Portuguese and ’er mother’s Spanish, English and mulatto mixed. But even if it’s just a touch, she still ’as a bit o’ black in her. ’Eer daddy paid one hundred pounds for ’er mother. After seeing ’er I believes ’e got a bargain and Esmeralda is more beautiful than ’er mother.”
“Is she for sale?” Anthony queried.
“I’m not sure,” Bart replied, “I ain’t got round to deciding iffen I wanta ask. It could be I could buy ’er, then it’s possible ’er father would give ’er ’and in marriage. I just ain’t decided if I’s ready for a full time woman, ’specially with this war. She do make a good little bed warmer howsum ever.”
The roar of the bowchaser sounded and broke up the conversation. The acrid smell of the smoke drifted aft as another shot was let loose from the bowchaser.
“Went through ’er mainsail,” the lookout called down.
Taking his glass and resting it on a ratline Anthony looked at the distant ship. Gabe had ordered SeaWolf to let loose with her forward guns and now the chase was under fire from both ships.
“Captain Earl!”
“Yes, my lord.”
“As soon as convenient I want you to load with grape. I’d like to board yonder ship if possible without having to face great odds.”
“Aye, my lord,” Earl replied, and then went about the admiral’s order. He knew privateers tended to carry lots of extra men so his lordship was being prudent. It was not unheard of where a larger ship boarded a smaller vessel only to be swamped by all the extra men on board. Then it was the privateers who gained a prize and not the other way around.
The wind had veered somewhat and after three broadsides in less than two minutes Merlin was completely engulfed in smoke from her larboard cannons. However the chase was now firing back. A portion of the taffrail was hit and a sailor screamed as splinters flew through the air. Another ball hit amidships dismembering a man as it put a great gouge in Merlin’s gun deck. A shout from forward caused Anthony to peer over the bulwark in time to see the chase’s mainmast go tumbling over the side with a great crack not unlike a cannon firing.
However, the ship’s captain was a stubborn if not wise man and he continued to fight for his ship. Only his forward guns could bear on Merlin; and SeaWolf had now crossed the ship’s stern firing as she crossed.
Anthony could hear Bart saying, “That’s me boy. Gabe put a ball up ’er arse and blowed out ’er innards. That’ll slow ’em down I’m bettin’.”
Slow the return fire it did, but still the captain of the chase showed no signs of surrendering.
Seeing Earl, Anthony ordered, “We’ll grapple and board to starboard, signal SeaWolf to do the same to larboard.”
“Aye, my lord,” Earl replied then shouted out the orders.
Another broadside from Merlin sent grape buzzing through the chase like a wad of hornets.
Seeing SeaWolf close with the chase, Anthony then ordered Earl, “Have the gunners cease firing Captain. We don’t want grape cutting down on SeaWolf’s crew as they board.”
“Aye, my lord. Mr. Campbell,” Earl called to his first lieutenant, “have the cannons cease fire then prepare to board yonder ship.”
The ships were coming together now and as the hulls ground together a shudder went through Merlin causing Anthony to stumble.
Bart caught a hold of him smiling and said, “No lying back now; it be time for that exercise yews been talking bout.”
Then, with a pistol in one hand and a sword in the other, off the two went to join the melee. The sound of muskets filled Anthony’s ears. Shots rang out as marine sharpshooters fired down on the men in the chase while a hand full of privateers fired back at the marines. A sergeant fell next to Anthony then struggled to his feet, blood pouring from a useless left arm.
One of the rogues on the chase lunged at Bart with a bayonet he’d picked up from a dead marine. The attack was clumsy and Bart easily parried the blade then slashed down with his cutlass, splitting the man’s chest.
The fight became v
ery close as screams, curses and words of encouragement all filled the air. Anthony knew the fight couldn’t last long as the enemy ship had been boarded from both quarters and British sailors now had flooded the deck.
Another rascal had just attacked Anthony who deflected the blow but was thrown off balance in doing so. His attacker then thrust his blade forward, the tip of which stung as it pierced flesh entering Anthony’s abdomen. Anthony twisted and avoided most of the man’s attack, then raised his pistol and fired into the man’s chest. Dropping the pistol to the deck, Anthony shifted his cutlass to his right hand and with his left pulled the blade from his flesh. Hot, warm blood flowed over his hand as he did so.
Seeing the admiral wounded, another foe attacked him only to have Bart step between the two. Surprise filled the man’s face as an enraged Bart now in a killing mood smashed the hilt of his cutlass into the man’s face; dazing his opponent who never saw the backward swing of Bart’s blade that severed his head which toppled to the deck before the rest of the body slumped.
Standing over Anthony, Bart called, “Merlin’s, to me, to the admiral.”
The British sailors quickly gathered in a knot around their admiral to protect him, but the fight was over. Gabe was quickly there. After seeing to his brother, Gabe sent Dagan to fetch Caleb while he tried to make him comfortable. Anthony was carried to Earl’s quarters on Merlin protesting that he could walk. Caleb quickly removed Anthony’s coat and shirt. He gently probed the wound with a cloth soaked in rum. Then taking a clean rag Caleb ran it through the wound leaving a wick of sorts.
“Twisting as you did,” Caleb explained, “the man’s blade penetrated the fleshy part of the abdomen but did not enter the viscera. Therefore, the internal organs were not disturbed. I have ordered an anodyne…a nostrum composed of extraction Thebaicum and wine. It will induce sleep and prevent pain. A dose of which I think will be most needed once the adrenalin of the battle has waned. The only concern would be if the evil humours create a putrid fistula in the wound. If necessary a balm of sulfur, glycerin and hogs lard can be impregnated into a dressing and applied.”