Barracuda: The Fighting Anthonys, Book 3

by Michael Aye

  As the group left, Anthony gave Earl instructions about the captured ship. His words slurred from Caleb’s concoction before he could complete his orders. The last words he heard before sleep overtook him was Bart saying, “I’s didn’t mean for you to loose yews belly that way.”

  Damn him, Anthony thought, always has to have the last word.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Damme, but I don’t know what’s worse, Lord Anthony thought. This pain from the wound, nausea from Caleb’s concoction or the headache from the hammering on deck.

  Earl had just come down to visit along with Gabe and the masters from each ship as ordered by Anthony.

  “Repairs on Merlin and SeaWolf are about finished so we can soon be underway,” Earl had said.

  “We were lucky,” Gabe had said.

  Neither Merlin nor SeaWolf had anything other than superficial damage. The captured ship had at one time been a merchant vessel that had been converted into a privateer. She had been armed much like a forty gun frigate. She was old but still seaworthy. At the time of battle she only carried a crew of some two hundred.

  However, even from the poor attempt at recordkeeping by her captain, it appeared she had started her cruise with some three hundred and seventy five men. Some of these men were recorded D.D. or discharged dead while others were noted to have been used as prize crews on captured ships. From the initials D.D., Anthony could only assume whoever had tried their hand at recordkeeping had spent some time in the British Navy.

  The remaining privateer’s crew appeared to be a mixture of Colonials, French, Spanish and even a few blacks. The records also showed an alarmingly large list of ships and cargos taken.

  “Damned busy fellow if you ask me,” Earl had said.

  The name on the ship’s stern was the Argus but the ship was definitely Spanish built. Dagan had talked to a few of her crew and they all seemed aware of a “Ghost ship” that deliberately destroyed rather than take its foe.

  “She’s called a ghost ship because all the captain leaves behind is the spirits of the dead souls he’s sent to the deep. One of the men we questioned said once he’s blasted away at the ships protecting the convoy, he’ll send a boat to various ships. If a cargo strikes his fancy he’ll take it but just as often he’ll just stand off and fire into a ship until she’s sunk, with no apparent rhyme or reason. Usually it’s a ship what be under British colors.”

  All heads turned as Bart spoke. He generally didn’t say much during a conference but when he did it paid to listen.

  Lord Anthony looked at his cox’n and queried, “Where did you get this information?”

  “From a rogue what ’ad run and signed on with the freebooters,” Bart replied, “I see’d this man wot had tattoos on his arm and ’ad a Kentish accent. So I’s sided up to ’em wid a wet and says we looking for good tars. I told ’em iffen he’d mind ’is manners like and was helpful in giving us-uns some useful ’telegence, life would go better for ’em. Utterwise ’ed be dancing the newgate jig for desertin’.”

  Bart’s use of “newgate jig” to threaten a hanging caused a chuckle from the officers. “’Pears’ he seed things me way,” Bart continued, “’Cause after a taste of me wet his tongue loosened up quicker than a whore’s drawers.”

  “Did the scoundrel say where the ship’s homeport is?” Anthony asked.

  “He’s not sure,” Bart continued, “They’ve seen ’em at Isla de Tesoros and at Cayo Hueso.”

  “Where are these places?” Anthony asked directing his question to the two masters.

  “I know more about Cayo Hueso than Isla de Tesoros,” Gunnells replied.

  “What about you, Quinn?” he asked Earl’s master.

  “I’ve been to Isla de Tesoros,” Quinn replied. “Its name means Treasure Island after all the loot what’s been cached there over the years. It’s a small island that lies under Havana’s belly. There’s several smaller islands scattered about. There’s no way to get close without being spotted except for a night passage. Something I’d be leery of. My charts are sketchy at best, but the passage from either the eastern or western side is narrow with reefs and small islands that could ground or worse rip the bottom clean out of a vessel. I’d not try without a pilot. If that’s his lair I’d blockade the area.”

  “We can’t,” Earl interrupted, “That would create a national incident.”

  “We still may take a peek,” Anthony replied not yet ready to give up. He then turned his attention back to Gunnells, “Tell me about Cayo Hueso.”

  “It used to be called Bone Key from all the dead Indians that died in a big Indian War,” Gunnells said, “Now it’s called Cayo Hueso which is Dago for Key West. It’s a small island about three and one-half by one and one-half miles. My charts say it’s the deepest port between New Orleans in the Gulf and Norfolk in the Atlantic. Due to the abundant rainfall there’s usually plenty of fresh water. The island is full of small inlets that wind their way into thick stands of mangroves. There are also lots of mahogany trees that are good for ship’s repair. Far as I know while both Havana and Britain claim it, no one government controls it. It’s used by fishermen to dry and salt their catch. There’s more’n one story of wreckers luring some ship in only to run aground. While the port is deep water it’d take a skilled man to navigate the treacherous reefs and currents. Somebody like your flag lieutenant.”

  “My flag lieutenant?” Anthony quizzed with a surprised look on his face.

  “Aye, my lord. We’ve shared a wet at the Mermaid and he told me before the war he’d done a bit o’…salvage work.”

  “Well, damme,” Anthony exclaimed, “Maybe Dagan’s lady luck has decided to smile down upon us.”

  Then almost as an afterthought Anthony asked, “Did anyone get a name for this ghost ship?”

  “Aye,” Bart spoke up again, “She be the Barracuda.”

  “Hummph…,” Anthony mused. “Is there anything to suggest the Argus and Barracuda are in link.”

  “No, my lord, just the opposite I would say,” Earl answered. “Unlike the organization we found with the captain of the Reaper, the Barracuda has chosen the name well. She appears to be a rogue ship that for the most part operates alone. A ship that has a vendetta for the British.”

  At this point the sentry announced, “Merlin’s first lieutenant says winds picking up.” Upon hearing this, the two masters made their way topside. Gabe said his good-byes and departed as well.

  “Did you find anything else of interest on the Argus?” Anthony asked Earl after everyone was gone.

  “Not really, sir. Stores were almost depleted so I believe the ship was headed to replenish them. I was amazed at the variation and amounts of specie…hard specie that was found. There was a chest full of specie from every nation, silver livres, gold louis, guineas, pistoles, dollars, all hard coins, no paper at all my lord.”

  “Humph!” Anthony grunted, “You must have made it to the captain’s cabin before Dagan got there.”

  “Sir,” Earl asked, not quite sure what to make of Anthony’s words.

  “I said you must have searched the captain’s cabin before Dagan had a chance.”

  “Oh no, my lord. It was he that found the specie.”

  Nodding his head in understanding Anthony said, “Well you can damn well bet you only got half at best.”

  “Half sir?”

  “Yes, man, half,” Anthony spoke sharply as the pain from his wound was getting more bothersome. “You can be sure Dagan got all he could carry before you were notified of its existence.”

  “Oh! I catch your drift, sir. Do we search Dagan’s belongings?”

  Anthony just looked up at Earl with a hard look that spoke volumes even though he was silent.

  Seeing the look Earl said, “No, I don’t believe there’s a need to embarrass Dagan. I don’t see how he could have appropriated any significant amount of the booty without my knowledge.”

  “If you’re sure,” Anthony said, “then it’s a moot point. I h
ave nothing but the utmost in trust and confidence in my captains so your word is good enough for me.”

  Earl suddenly looked anxious. He rose from his seat, gulped down the wine in his glass then suddenly remembered he was needed on deck. As he left the cabin Bart came out of the pantry, “Smart bugger, ain’t he?”

  “Bart!”

  “Aye, my lord, I know’s he’s a King’s ozzifer and a smart un to boot I’m thinking.”

  Anthony quickly recovered from his injuries once they returned to Saint Augustine. He refused the bosun chair when going back on board Warrior, but by the time he made it up the ladder and through the entry port he was wishing he hadn’t let pride get in the way of comfort.

  Captain Buck was taken aback by Anthony’s pale flesh tones and stooped position as he walked. Once in his stateroom Silas had a cup of his special coffee ready for the admiral, then went about making Anthony comfortable as he laid down on his day bed. Captain Earl and his ship’s surgeon had accompanied the admiral over to the flagship. Merlin’s surgeon was explaining to Warrior’s surgeon Caleb’s plan of treatment for the admiral.

  “The man’s treating the admiral and he’s not even in the Navy,” Merlin’s surgeon exclaimed.

  Standing to the side Bart was amazed to hear the conversation. It appeared the two ship’s surgeons were somewhat in awe at Caleb’s plan of care.

  “I would have bled him a pint at least,” Johnson, who was Warrior’s surgeon, said.

  “Nay,” McBain, from Merlin answered. “Caleb says the depletion of volume stresses the cardium and prevents the sanguine suppuration which delivers the humours from the wound.”

  Damn me ears, Bart thought. I don’t need to be listening to this but if I’s ever wounded I hope Caleb is handy.

  Anthony sipped his coffee patiently until the two surgeons finished addressing his wound. He politely stated, “Now if you gentlemen will forgive me I have duties to discuss with the flag captain.”

  Once the surgeons had left, Anthony moved around until he found a relaxing position. He then turned to Buck and asked, “Has anything of interest developed while I was gone?”

  “We had a day of strong wind and rain. Enough that the master wanted to up anchor and put some distance between us and the land.”

  Shaking his head in understanding Anthony recalled his recent conversation with the Governor, “If it came a blow they would have to put to sea.”

  “Did you hear me, sir?” Buck asked.

  “My apologies Rupert, my mind was on the weather and this damnable anchor. You were saying?”

  “I was saying, sir, that Knight and Markham had a running battle with a group of privateers but lost them after the sun went down. Knight thinks they made it into one of the many inlets between Port Royal and Savannah. Markham wanted to explore a likely place feeling that with Swan’s shallow draught he could put a man in the chains and get a look see.”

  “However, since Neptune was too large to follow and render assistance should it be needed, Knight denied Markham’s request.”

  “Sir Raymond is a wise officer,” Anthony said.

  “Aye, my lord, I believe a few of our younger captains have succeeded until it may now prove to be a liability,” Buck said.

  “Meaning Francis and Gabe?” Anthony asked.

  “Aye,” Buck answered matter-of-factly. “Them along with Bush and Kerry. That damn fool stunt of Kerry’s, taking on a gunboat off Nova Scotia had disaster written all over it. Bart was right when he said, “Brave man, Mister Kerry is, but not the smartest block I’ve known.”

  Anthony smiled in spite of himself recalling the day. “I didn’t know Bart’s words had got out.”

  Now Buck was smiling, “Got out, my lord! Why they’re damn near legendary,” Buck exclaimed. “Bart summed up the feeling of every tar in the whole squadron with that one sentence. And with him being the admiral’s own cox’n! Why damn my eyes, sir, but most of the officers felt the same as Bart but wouldn’t say it.

  Over the next few days the number of ships entering port increased until the anchorage and even the harbour was bustling. Ships delivering their cargo of precious supplies that would be needed to maintain the force at Saint Augustine until after the hurricane season.

  Anthony kept up the patrols and Merlin in company with SeaWolf and Audacity had driven off a group of privateers attempting to raid the convoy that had just dropped anchor. A dilapidated xebec had been taken prize.

  Where in God’s name had that come from, Anthony wondered.

  Earl had said when he reported, “She’s an old craft, sir, her batteries were mounted with the refuse guns off some Frenchy’s old, rusty relic’s that had long since served their real usefulness. I’m surprised they didn’t blow to pieces when they were fired.”

  “Well,” Anthony said, “maybe the Governor will have a use for her so that she’ll make the jacks a farthing or two.”

  Earl then silenced his admiral and flag captain as he continued, “The captain of the xebec was Spanish, sir. He was mortally wounded in the battle but he was still able to talk when we boarded. He was in fact in a rage and damned us all to hell for stealing his home and his land. I didn’t put much stock in his ranting until in a fit of coughing he gasped “you were nothing but bait for the Barracuda and Don Luis de Lavago.” The crew of the xebec was a mixed bunch. With a little persuading we discovered from a man who is most assuredly a British deserter, but claims to be Canadian, that Captain Galvez…Cesar Galvez, was always complaining of losing his plantation in Cow Ford.”

  “Humph!” Anthony grunted when Earl had finished his report. “I will bet herein lies the reason for the ruthless destruction of British ships. A Spaniard or Spaniards who were probably forced by circumstances, cultural differences, or any number of reasons to relocate to Cuba after the treaty between Spain and England.”

  “Aye,” Buck said, “A man with a vendetta. I wonder if we could find out more of either Captain Galvez or Don…”

  “Don Luis de Lavago,” Earl added. “Gabe and I discussed this when we captured the xebec and he said with your permission, sir, he would see if he could find anything out from Domingo.”

  “Yes…yes, that would be useful,” Anthony replied after a moment of thought. “I understand he is a man of much knowledge.”

  Hearing this Buck added, “He’s a man with a beautiful daughter as well, my lord. Keeps our Sir Raymond in a fit of humours.”

  “Not just Sir Raymond,” Earl added, “But I believe he’s won Nancy’s heart if not her hand. I’m not sure how that will play out but I wouldn’t be surprised to see a Lady Knight in the not to distant future.”

  “Would a priest be willing to do that?” Anthony questioned. “Sir Raymond’s a Protestant.”

  “A sea captain could,” Buck interjected, “If Domingo approved.”

  That night Gabe spent time talking with his friend and business partner. Since the incident with Lancaster, the tavern had become something of a “hangout” for the warrants and officers in Anthony’s squadron. Business was better than it had ever been and Domingo for once had realized a substantial profit. Gabe had earned a tidy sum himself and though he hadn’t told Domingo as yet he intended to turn sole ownership of the tavern back over to the man when orders came for his ship. Tonight over a glass of sangria they talked of Don Luis de Lavago.

  “Si, my compadre, I know of him. He was a very rich aristocrat from Madrid. Only he was the second son. He had accumulated much though. He owned…how you say it, mucho land along the Saint Johns River all the way to Cowford. Much time and expense had been made and when he’s at the point to make mucho dinero England suddenly owns all his land and holdings with nothing for all his expense and labors. Havana had nothing to offer that would equal his loss I am told. Now he is a violent, sick man with much hatred. He hates all gringos. No offense, señor.”

  “None taken,” Gabe assured Domingo.

  “Don Luis hates all whites but because his cause and needs are the same as
the rebels to the north he has, on occasion, formed a loose allegiance. If they win the war it is said his former holding will be returned by the rebels. Who knows? It is too much for Domingo to consider.”

  This, Gabe believed. Like thousands of people at home who believed the war was Lord North’s doings and the only people who would benefit from the war would be the rich, not the common man.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The sun was blood red and high in the sky. Neptune, Swan and Pigeon sailed southward under a lazy wind and unwavering glare. To look upon the shining water made your eyes hurt. Deck seams were so sticky that they gripped to a man’s foot.

  Knight had just seen a sailor jump as barefooted he stepped on a bubble of tar. Leaning against the bulwark he could feel the heat off the adjacent cannon. The barrels were as hot as if they had been in battle.

  Lord Anthony was acting upon information he’d recently received that the privateer ship Barracuda was seen operating off the southern tip of Florida and the Keys. There seemed to be some idea as to who the cutthroat was that commanded the Barracuda but when the patrol had sailed nothing more definite had been found out.

  Feeling sticky and clammy Knight called to his first lieutenant, “Mr. Brooks, I’m going to my cabin to sign some papers. The master has promised a shower this afternoon and I don’t think a little cooling off would be amiss. However, keep a close eye out for squalls as well as sails and call me if you need me.”

  Before the “aye, captain” was out of Brooks mouth Knight’s head disappeared down the companion ladder. After an hour or so of working at his desk Knight felt the motion of the ship become a bit livelier and at the same time realized the cabin had become dimmer and the sun didn’t seem to penetrate the stained glass in the stern windows as it had an hour ago. Returning on deck he could instantly feel a sharp stinging rain.

  “I was just sending the midshipman for you, sir,” Lieutenant Brooks volunteered, “although our good master says this will only last an hour or so.”