by Michael Aye
Published by Boson Books
An imprint of Bitingduck Press
Formerly an imprint of C&M Online Media, Inc.
ISBN 978-1-938463-12-9
eISBN 978-1-938463-08-2
© 2013 Michael A. Fowler All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, including mechanical, electric, photocopy, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
For information contact
Bitingduck Press, LLC
Montreal • Altadena
[email protected]
http://www.bitingduckpress.com
Cover art by Johannes Ewers
www.zazzle.com/seawolf
Author’s note
This book is a work of fiction with a historical backdrop. I have taken liberties with historical figures, ships, and time frames to blend in with my story. Therefore, this book is not a reflection of actual historical events.
Books by Michael Aye
Fiction
War of 1812 Trilogy
War of 1812: Remember the Raisin
The Fighting Anthonys
The Reaper, Book One
HMS SeaWolf, Book Two
Barracuda, Book Three
SeaHorse, Book Four
Peregrine, Book Five
Non-Fiction
What’s the Reason for All That Wheezing and Sneezing
Michael A. Fowler and Nancy McKemie
This one is for Randy “Lord” Skalla and the entire Skalla family. You have been more than friends.
To:
Kenneth, Michael, Mark, Sebastian, Brayden, and Caed
My Midshipmen
CHARACTERS IN THE FIGHTING ANTHONY SERIES
British Officers and Seamen:
Vice Admiral Lord Gilbert “Gil” Anthony – Commands the British fleet in the Caribbean. First son of Retired Admiral Lord James Anthony (deceased) and Lady Anthony.
Captain Sir Gabriel “Gabe” Anthony – Second son of Retired Admiral Lord James Anthony (deceased) and his mistress Maria Dupree.
Bart – Long time cox’n and friend to Admiral Lord Anthony.
Dagan Dupree – Supernumerary on Trident; Gabe’s uncle and self-appointed guardian.
Jacob (Jake) Hex – Gabe’s cox’n and friend.
Rear Admiral Rupert Buck – Recently promoted to flag.
Lord Ragland – British Governor of Barbados.
Lord Skalla – British Foreign Office agent who replaces Sir Victor.
Captain Herschel Chatham – Captain of Brilliant.
Captain Stephen Earl –Lord Anthony’s new flag captain.
Captain Eli Lamb – Captain of Stag.
Captain William Peckham – Captain of Venus.
Captain Robert Schoggins – Captain of marines on Trident.
Lieutenant John Jenkins – Captain of Zebra.
Lieutenant George Jepson – Captain of Pegasus.
Lieutenant Peter Parkinson – Captain of Fortune.
Lieutenant Joseph Taylor – Captain of Thorn.
Lieutenant Donald Campbell – First lieutenant on Trident.
Lieutenant David Davy – Trident’s third lieutenant; Gabe’s friend.
Lieutenant Richard Hawks – Lieutenant on Trident.
Lieutenant Justin Holton – Lieutenant on Trident.
Lieutenant Mahan – Lord Anthony’s flag lieutenant.
Lieutenant Wesley – Trident’s second lieutenant.
Robert Cornish – Physician and surgeon.
David Hayes – Master on Trident.
Ronald Laqua – Masters mate, acting lieutenant.
LeMatt – Lord Anthony’s secretary.
Josiah Nesbit – Gabe’s chef and gentleman’s gentleman.
Silas – Lord Anthony’s steward.
Chen Lee - Rear Admiral Buck’s servant.
Crowe – Rear Admiral Buck’s cox’n.
Fleming – Rear Admiral Buck’s secretary.
Bridges – Lord Skalla’s agent in Africa.
The Ladies:
Lady Deborah – Lord Anthony’s wife. They met after pirates had attacked the ship Lady Deborah and her first husband were aboard. Her first husband was killed by the pirates before Lord Anthony’s ship came to the rescue. The marriage between Lady Deborah and her first husband had been one of convenience; when she and Lord Anthony met it was love at first sight. They later married and had a daughter, Macayla.
Faith – Gabe’s wife. They met in HMS SeaWolf where Gabe had survived an explosion but was wounded. Faith and Nanny were walking on the beach and came upon him. They hid Gabe and nursed him back to health. Gabe and Faith fell in love, but with her being an American and with Gabe being a British sea officer it was difficult.
Betsy – Dagan’s love. She is the sister of General Manning’s deceased wife. She is a young widow who lives with the general. Dagan met Betsy during the time General Manning was being held in Saint Augustine as a paroled prisoner of war.
Rebecca/Becky – Lord Anthony’s sister. She lives in England with her husband, Hugh, and daughter, Gretchen.
Maria Dupree – Gabe’s mother and Dagan’s sister. She was Admiral Lord James Anthony’s mistress of many years.
The Americans:
General Manning – America’s chief negotiator for POW exchange.
Andre Dupree – Dagan’s uncle. He moved to Virginia years ago.
Caleb McKean – Physician and surgeon. Gabe’s friend. Loves Kitty Dupree.
Kitty – Andre Dupree’s daughter who loves Caleb McKean.
Jubal – Andre Dupree’s son. Still a youngster, he appears to have the same “gift” as his cousin, Dagan.
Kawliga – American Indian who lives with Andre Dupree’s family and looks after Jubal. Kawliga understands Jubal’s “gift”.
Ariel – Dagan’s ward
Lum – Slave on Faith’s family plantation. He kills a man attempting to rape Faith. He spends time with Gabe on board ship as his servant, and then when Faith and Gabe reunite, he leaves the sea to be with her and Nanny.
Nanny – Like Lum, she was a slave on Faith’s family plantation. She was a personal servant to Faith’s mother and has been Faith’s nanny since birth. She loves Lum.
Captain Horne – Captain, American privateer.
The American Privateer
It was seventeen seventy six
The war had just begun
The British had the Navy
With the biggest gun
But the British merchantmen
Sailed the seas in fear
Would their ship be raided by
The American privateer
Now the privateer’s been taken
No more convoys will she raid
Her captain wounded and weary
Offers up his bloody blade
But the British captain
Declines and tells him no
How can I take the blade
Of such a gallant foe
-Michael Aye
Prologue
Crack…
“Ahhh…”
The first cry of pain came at lash fifteen. Seaman Paul’s back had hardly healed from a previous flogging. It was raw and as red as beef before the present flogging had even started. His back was now a bloody mess. The bosun’s mate pulled the bloody tails of the cat between his fingers, untangling the knots as bits of flesh fell to the deck. Taking his time, the mate pulled back his arm, then like a striking snake the cat struck again. Turning muscle and flesh into a raw pulp that was now unrecognizable as a person’s back.
“Ahhh!!!”
Sixteen…
The seaman had done his best to uphold the honour of a jack tar by suffering his punishment in silence. But the pain was
far too great. His screams were unnerving to both the officers and crew, who were being made to witness the cruel and unnecessary punishment of a good seaman.
Crack…
“Ahhh!!!”
Seventeen…
How much longer he could survive, more than one person wondered; pray God, he would lose consciousness soon.
***
HMS Foxfire, of twenty-eight guns, rose up and down with the gentle swell in the pre-dusk hour. Punishment usually took place at six bells in the forenoon watch, but Captain Brian, Butcher Brian as he was called by the crew, never let tradition keep him from letting the “cat out of the bag.”
The bosun’s mate had piped, “All hands to witness punishment.” With hats off, the sullen crew had moved lethargically aft, where the small detachment of solemn faced marines stood tall at attention with their muskets at their sides. They had seen too much of Butcher Brian’s savage ways to lift a finger, much less fire on anyone had they risen up in mutiny.
The officers were all present in full dress, sweltering under the hot Georgia sun. Swords hung at their sides as sweat ran down their faces and backs. They were as sick of the captain’s brutality as everyone else.
Norton, the first lieutenant, had tried to come to Paul’s aid. “Captain, Paul’s crime was minimal.”
“He cursed a petty officer,” Brian retorted.
“Who struck his back with a starter when it was still raw from a previous flogging,” Norton argued.
“He shouldn’t have been the last one,” Brian quipped.
“Twenty-four lashes for saying ‘damn you,’ Captain, is that not too severe? The bosun’s mate, realizing what he’d done, didn’t take offense.”
“But I heard it, Mr.Norton.”
Realizing he was getting nowhere with his argument, Norton changed tack. “Captain, we are carrying a fortune in gold and silver for the forces in Savannah. Cannot punishment wait until after we have safely unloaded our…our cargo?”
“Mr. Norton!” Brian snapped. “We are at the mouth of the Savannah River now, and waiting on the pilot. Our duty is all but complete. Do you think, sir, we have aught to fear? Is not the city under British control?”
“Aye, Captain, but these waters are still teeming with privateers. If the ship or the gold were to fall into enemy hands, sir…”
“Silence!” Brian roared, cutting Norton off, “enough, sir, I’ve had enough of your ninny ways. I thought better of you, Norton. Truthfully, I did.” Turning away from the seething lieutenant, Captain Brian ordered, “Strip.”
Two burly bosun’s mates tore the shirt from Paul’s back.
“Seize him up,” Brian barked another order.
The seaman’s hands were bound to a grating rigged for the flogging. Captain Brian then made a mockery of reading the article of war that covered Paul’s offense, ending with, “so forth and so on.”
The order was then given, “Bosun’s mate, do your duty.”
Brian was one of those captains who made sure he carried both a left-handed and right-handed bosun’s mate on board; so that when the cat was applied, the poor sod being punished would have a checkered back.
Twenty-four lashes were Brian’s minimum, with thirty-six not being uncommon. When the first dozen had been laid on, a new bosun’s mate laid on the next twelve; a new mate for each dozen. When the first bosun finished laying on his twelve, he picked up the red baize bag his cat went in and wiped the gore from his hands. The second bosun had just removed his cat from its bag when an excited cry was heard from the mainmast lookout.
“Deck thar! Deck thar! Boats approaching, sir, they’re almost on us.”
“Where away,” Norton shouted up.
“Close off the larboard bow, sir.”
“You waited long enough,” Norton replied in disgust.
“I’ve been calling down, sir, but couldn’t get anybody’s attention,” the anxious lookout responded.
Turning to the captain, Norton was cut off before he could speak.
“Relax, Norton,” the captain said. “It’s probably the pilot.”
“In more than one boat?” Norton asked.
“Most likely the guard boat with dispatches and some bumboatman trying to sell his wares before the others get a chance when we anchor.” Brian then ordered, “Continue the punishment.”
Again, the cat struck. Time after time the knots biting into the seaman’s back until there was not an inch of flesh that hadn’t been flayed open and now the white bone of the shoulder blade was plainly visible.
“Ahhh!!!”
The cries of anguish grew louder with every stroke until lash eighteen when there was no sound from the poor soul.
Crack…
Nineteen…
“Stop the punishment.” The command was from Cornish, the ship’s surgeon.
“What’s this?” Brian demanded. “You so easily countermand my orders,” the captain screamed.
“It’s Paul, sir. He’s made no cry with the last few lashes.”
“Very well,” Brian said, with a sigh. “See to him and let’s get on with it…hurry man.”
The surgeon made a quick examination of Paul, then turned to the nearest bosun’s mate and said, “Cut him down.”
Not believing his ears, Brian angrily shouted, spittle spraying as he spoke. “Damn you, sir, you go too far. I’ll have you under arrest. Continue punishment. Bosun’s mate, do your duty.”
“Go right ahead, Captain,” Cornish snapped. “Flog away as you will, but Paul will feel nothing. He’s died under the lash. Are you satisfied, you maniac? You’ve ruptured the man’s kidney. You murdered another fine seaman, Captain. I will personally see to it you answer for this one. Tell me, Captain, just how many fine seamen do you intend to butcher?”
A silence hung over the ship’s company. A long silence, in which time Brian’s skin turned ashen. The crew was in shock that someone would openly defy the captain. Suddenly heads appeared over the bulwarks.
A voice spoke out, “Thank you, Captain, for assembling your men and handing me such a rich prize without so much as a sentry’s challenge.”
Norton whirled around to the marines and crew shouting, “Repel boarders.”
The unmistakable sound of hammers being cocked cut short the order. A piercing cry was heard followed by the thud of a body falling to the deck. All eyes moved to the source of the sound. Captain Butcher Brian lay in a heap. Blood was pouring from around the knife sticking in his neck, staining the immaculate deck.
Seeing the look of accusation from Norton, the privateer’s captain quickly defended himself. “That was none of our doing, sir. I would look to your own crew for the culprit. But perhaps it’s best. Saves a lot of embarrassment and the trouble of a court martial.” Then with a salute the privateer said, “I am Captain Nathan Horne and I do hereby claim this ship…and ah…its cargo as a lawful prize of war. To show you I’m not a bloodthirsty devil such as your captain…previous captain, that is, I will give you, your officers, and any crew members who wish to accompany you free passage to Savannah. If you, sir, give your word of honour not to attempt to arm yourselves I will give you time to collect any personal belongings you may wish. I will also give you a brief statement discussing the state of the ship when we took it. It may come in handy should there be any legal proceedings.”
“Thank you, sir,” Norton mumbled. “You are most kind and thoughtful.” He took a breath and made to unbuckle his sword.
Seeing this, Horne shook his head. “No, you’ve gone through enough. I would not dishonor you by taking your sword.”
He then spoke to Foxfire’s crew at large. “I have given you all the freedom to make your way to Savannah via open boats. However, those of you who wish to remain aboard may do so and will be welcomed to serve our new nation. You will be treated fair and square, like a mate should be treated. The choice is yours, the boats…or to sea.”
The cheers that went up did not surprise Norton. After what Butcher Brian had put the
crew through, it was a wonder that any of the men made their way into the boats.
CHAPTER ONE
Banks of gray clouds moved across the horizon, turning the afternoon sky almost as dark as night. Here and there, lightning streaked across the sky and the distant rumble of thunder grew nearer and nearer. As the wind picked up, rollers could be seen across the anchorage. The rollers turned into whitecaps as the force of the wind picked up. Soon the whitecaps could be seen crashing into the hulls of His Majesty’s ships lying at anchor in the Solent. Normally these waters, sheltered between the Isle of Wight and Portsmouth provided a safe anchorage.
Looking at the large sign, shaped like a huge teapot, swinging above the inn’s entrance, Rear Admiral Buck felt things might get lively for the ships, even in a safe anchorage tonight. The first drops of rain pelted against the gold braid on the admiral’s new uniform as he hurried through the door into Scolfes. The tavern was already busy, and before the night was over it would be packed. The building had been built in the fourteenth century and renovated several times. The outer walls were constructed of thick, grayish stone. The walls not only protected those on the inside from the elements, but also made it easy to keep warm during the cold months and cool when the weather outside was hot.
Scolfes catered to the more well to do in Portsmouth. While not as large as the George Inn on Portsmouth Point it was just as clean, and many swore the fare was much tastier. Once you entered Scolfes, you could go left into the tavern where fine spirits were offered to gentlemen and the occasional escorted lady. To the right was the dining room where a man could bring his wife and family without the fear of some rowdy, boisterous drunk getting out of line. Above the dining area were the inn’s rooms. To either end sat a suite or sitting room with its own private bath area, whereas the other single rooms shared a common bathing area. Buck could have had his meals in his room, but preferred the public dining area where he talked with other naval officers. He also enjoyed watching the crowd of civilian diners. A second entrance to the upper rooms was via a staircase that exited onto the street. This was built as an exit in case of a fire, however, it was used more frequently when gentlemen needed to be discreet in regards to the occasional entertainment of unregistered guests.