Trident

by Michael Aye

  The two cut their eyes at each other. “Sure,” Fleming said, “our old mate is now privately recruiting for an admiral, no less.”

  “Tell us, Jake,” Crowe chided. “Is it for just one admiral you recruit for, or is it the lot?”

  “No, just one, and I can’t guarantee anything. When I left Portsmouth, our admiral needed a new cox’n and a secretary. You could fill those jobs if…if they haven’t been filled and if the admiral likes you. ’Course, I could always get Sir Anthony to sign you on as part of the ship’s crew.”

  “Damme, Jake, but you’ve taken to associating with England’s upper crust. Tis a wonder you’d even talk to the likes of us.”

  “I’ve been lucky,” Hex admitted. “See this uniform? It was purchased for me by Sir Gabriel. Fact is, I’ve got a set of uniforms and a few civilian suits so as to be ready for whatever situation or occasion that may arise.”

  “And pray tell us, what makes Jake Hex so special that Sir Gabriel would go to such expense?”

  “I’m his cox’n…among other things.”

  “Like what?” the two friends asked.

  “Well, I’m treated like family when we’re not in uniform.”

  “Family is it?” the two chided with raised eyebrows. “Why would you be treated so highly?”

  Hex did not want to reveal he’d saved Sir Gabriel’s life so he said, “’Cause that’s the way it is with the Anthony’s, both Vice Admiral Lord Gilbert Anthony and Captain Sir Gabriel Anthony. Now, no more questions, do you want to sign on or not?”

  “We’ll think on it.”

  “Well, don’t take too long. I take the coach back tomorrow.”

  After that the alcohol continued to flow, the stories became more embellished and at some point wenches appeared. Hex had a blonde beauty on his lap with her dress cut low enough that most of her wares were showing when a man burst through the front door, shouting “It’s the press gang!” Before the back door could be opened, the Baskerville was surrounded.

  “Damme,” Crowe grunted.

  “Quiet,” Hex whispered. “Now go along with whatever I say.”

  An over-aged midshipman and giant of a bosun’s mate entered. “Line up,” the mid snapped. Most of the men did as they were told, but not Hex and his two friends.

  “You heard the ossifer,” the bosun’s mate shouted and made to strike Fleming with his starter.

  Hex’s reflexes were fast and he grabbed the starter. “Easy there, mate.”

  The bosun’s mate tried but could not pull his starter from Hex’s grasp. Seeing his attempt was futile, the man said, “The ossifer said line up.”

  “He’s not an officer,” Hex corrected the man. “He’s a midshipman.”

  “And who be you?” the midshipman said, taking in the gold braid on Hex’s uniform.

  “I’m Jacob Hex, Sir Gabriel Anthony’s cox’n.”

  “And you have papers to prove this?”

  “Not on me,” Hex replied.

  “Chain them up,” the mid replied.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Hex said firmly. “I’ve been sent here to recruit members for Admiral Buck’s staff.”

  “Never heard of him,” the mid snapped.

  “I’m not surprised,” Hex threw back. “But I can promise that if we are detained, not only will you hear from him but you can forget what little career you have left.”

  Taken aback by Hex’s bluntness, but not wanting to back down, the mid said, “You can stay, they go with the rest.”

  “No,” Hex replied with harshness in his voice. Turning to an elderly man who’d been sweeping the tavern floors, Hex said, “Here’s a guinea, run to the marine barracks and see if the major might be available.”

  Hex knew that in all likelihood nobody above the rank of captain would be at the barracks. He also knew it would take an hour for the old man to get there, and even then he might not get anyone to come. He did hope offering a guinea for what would have been done for a schilling might impress the mid enough to back down.

  “The marines have no jurisdiction in this matter,” the midshipman volunteered, but it was obvious his resolve had weakened.

  “You are right, but I’m sure that he will make certain that a message is sent to both Sir Gabriel and Rear Admiral Buck. They will want to know by whom and why I was delayed. Now, sir, if you will be so kind as to spell your name for me so that it will be written correctly?”

  A moment passed with the midshipman saying not a word. Finally, he said, “God rot your soul,” and stormed out of the tavern.

  Waiting a moment to make sure the press gang had moved on, Fleming and Crowe pounded Hex’s back. “Bless you, Jake, but ain’t you the cold fish. Had ‘em sweating you did. What a bluff.”

  “It wasn’t a bluff,” Hex replied matter-of-factly. “I would have sent word and his days would have been over, especially if Dagan had’ve gotten involved.”

  “Dagan. Who is Dagan?”

  “You’ll see soon enough. I’m sure that he will be at Sir Gabriel’s house.”

  A sinking feeling came over the two men. “But we ain’t said we’d sign on yet, Jake.”

  “Should I call the press gang back?”

  “No,” was the feeble reply.

  “Good. Now go say your goodbyes and get your bags. I’ll expect you back here within an hour.”

  “Aw, Jake.”

  “No! One hour. That’s it, or then it’s the press gang.”

  As the two walked off, Crowe said to Fleming, “Never expected Jake to be such a tarter.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The coach ride was one Hex would just as soon forget. It was too crowded, too bumpy, and too smelly. One of the passengers obviously believed perfume took the place of good old soap and water. Hex would have ridden on top of the coach had it not been for the rain. Still, the wet may have been better than the smell, which not only took his breath, but made his eyes burn. Thank God, he at least sat by a window.

  The woman sitting on the middle of the seat opposite of him constantly held a handkerchief to her nose. She was suffering the same effects as Hex. Once when their eyes met, she looked to her left and then fanned her face, letting him know it was the drummer sitting next to her that smelled. The man was fat and sweaty. If the perfume was to cover up body odors, it did a poor job.

  Crowe and Fleming were both oblivious to all, as they were sleeping off the abundance of ale consumed prior to leaving Deal. Hex was not sure he’d done the right thing, mentioning the possibility of being on Admiral Buck’s staff. But whether it was his staff or just the crew, they’d be better off than winding up in jail if caught smuggling. Hex didn’t doubt Spencer wouldn’t make an anonymous tip or drop a hint here and there to the revenuers if it might do away with the competition. Each time they went out they were risking their lives; of course, the same could be said about being in the Navy during war.

  There was one thing Hex had learned. Captain Anthony…Sir Gabe was not shy when it came to a fight. Be it hand-to-hand or a ship action. What was it Dagan had said? “Stick with the Anthonys and you’ll be rich or dead if this war continues.” Of course, Dagan and Gabe had survived so there was no reason he, Jake Hex, shouldn’t as well. He also remembered another conversation with Dagan when discussing ‘loot’, “They, meaning the admiralty, don’t know what’s there when we take a ship. So it don’t hurt to hold back a little before it gets inventoried. For your retirement so to speak. They won’t miss it and it’s us what’s risking our neck, not them. I never confiscate so much as to make it obvious but a bit here and there will never be missed.”

  Of course Sir Gabe, it was hard for Hex to think of the captain as Gabriel, had said don’t get caught up in Dagan’s larcenous ways. The key to that statement in Hex’s mind wasn’t to not do it, but just don’t get caught. A sudden jolt and lurch as the coach hit a deep pothole threw the young woman almost in Hex’s lap.

  Quickly gathering herself, the girl looked at her rescuer and said, “Thank you, sir,
but I believe it’s safe for me to return to my seat now.”

  The closeness aroused Hex as his hands had accidently brushed her chest and the firmness of ample breast. A knowing look passed between them as his hands took an extra moment to slide back to his side.

  “Is Herstmonceux your home?” Hex asked.

  “No,” she replied. “I will be met there, but I live in nearby Cowbeech.”

  The next half-hour passed without speaking, but every time Hex glanced her way the woman was looking at him. Was it curiosity or was it more? Once when she was caught staring the woman smiled, looked away, and then back again. The sound of flatulence from one of the sleeping men caused her to giggle.

  “One scent is no worse than the other,” Hex quipped as the handkerchief had gone back to the woman’s face.

  Soon the coach slowed. Looking out of his window, Hex commented, “We are here.”

  A startled shout was suddenly heard then, “Whoa!!! Whoa.” The coach slid sideways as the driver applied the brakes hard. The coach tilted as it came to a stop.

  “Damn fool,” the driver shouted at the man who ran in front of them. Other voices could be heard. Men were yelling and the driver cried out, “Stop throwing those rocks, you idiots. You are spooking the horses.” Indeed the horses were rearing up, pawing and whinnying.

  As Hex, Crowe, and Fleming hurriedly got out of the coach, they could see three men chasing another, a much smaller man, who had gotten up from the street where he’d fallen and almost been run over. He jumped up and darted around the side of the coach where he collided with Crowe.

  “Stop that chink,” one of the three men yelled. “We’re gonna cut off his pigtail so he can’t go to heathen heaven or wherever it is Chinamen go.”

  Crowe helped the frightened man to his feet. Seeing it was futile to run and already being out of breath, the Chinaman stood his ground. It was very obvious the three men were drunk, but when one of the group pulled out a long knife, Hex stepped forward.

  “What’s going on here?” he asked.

  The man who spoke had breath so hard Hex had to frown and turn his head. “We done told you, mister, we are gonna cut the chink’s pigtail off.”

  “You no cutoff pigtail, me die first,” the little man said in broken English.

  “Then we’ll cut it off after you die,” bad breath said.

  “Get back in and let’s be on our way,” said a voice from inside the coach. This was from the fat drummer wearing the perfume.

  “Humph!” another voice, that of a woman. “You coward, you’d let three drunken bullies harm that helpless little man.”

  “Nothing to me, madam,” the drummer responded, followed by another humph.

  Regardless of what decision Hex may have already made, the woman’s comments settled it for him. “Why don’t you men just be satisfied with the scare you’ve already put in the Chinaman. I can see we’re on Boreham Street, so the Bull Inn can’t be far. Come on down and I will buy you a wet and you can call it a night.”

  “We ain’t calling a bloody thing off, mate. Now stand aside and let us at the chink so we can have our fun. Otherwise, we may have to do a little trimming with you first.”

  “I wouldn’t try that,” Hex replied, his voice taking on a hardness and losing the conciliatory demeanor.

  “You think you can handle all three of us,” bad breath responded with a grin.

  “He could if need be,” Crowe interjected. “However, he ain’t alone and there’s no way one Deal boatman would not share the fun with another Deal boatman. That’s right, ain’t it, Fleming?”

  “Right you are, mate. And truth be told I could use a bit of exercise after that coach ride.”

  A light shone as a door opened from a dwelling on the opposite side of the coach. Taking a quick glance as the light flooded out onto the street, Hex could see a man with an old blunderbuss in his hand.

  “What goes on here?” the man said with an authoritative tone.

  The driver answered, “It’s just Padget and his ruffians, Henry. They are after Chen Lee.”

  Henry was the local constable. “Padget, I would have thought the navy would have caught up with your black heart by now. However, you’ve disturbed me for the last time. Get out of Herstmonceux tonight or by all that’s mighty, I’ll tell the navy myself.”

  “You do, you old goat, and it’ll be the last time you turn anybody in,” Padget snarled.

  There was no backing down in the leathery old man. He jammed the barrel of his weapon right into Padget’s belly, causing him to take an involuntary step backward. “That so,” Henry replied. “Maybe I just ought to end it here so’s I can get back to sleep.”

  There was little doubt in anyone’s mind that the constable meant what he said. Padget’s friends moved away, not wanting to get caught up in any of the blast from the wicked-looking weapon. A gust of wind rocked the blades on the windmill above the mill causing a loud, heavy groan. Otherwise, there was complete silence until Henry spoke again.

  “It’s your choice, Padget. Git or get blown away.” The choice was echoed by the cocking of the blunderbuss’ hammer.

  “I’m gone,” Padget blurted out. “Come on, mates.”

  “No, you go on,” one of the men said. “Trouble seems to follow you like a dark cloud.”

  “Aye,” the other man replied, “I knew we should never have run with that one.”

  The man’s admission of being a deserter caused Hex, Crowe, and Fleming to look at each other.

  “You talk too much,” the one man said, glaring at the other. “Can’t you see he’s an officer of sorts?”

  Before the man could speak, Hex said, “I knew you for sailors by your garb, language, and tattoos. Now, it makes no difference to me, but the best place for a man who’s run is on another ship.”

  This caused Crowe to mumble to Fleming, “Here we go again.”

  “We’re headed to the Caribbean, then the colonies, with two of the best officers in the navy,” Hex said sounding like a recruiter.

  “Who they be?” one of the men asked.

  Hex went into his spiel and before he finished, the little Chinaman said, “Good, me go. Chen Lee tired of working at the Bull Inn. Work all day, have to run all night to keep pigtail. Chen Lee keep pigtail in the navy?”

  Hex paused. That was an answer he was not sure of, but he didn’t think there were any rules that said the man couldn’t have his pigtail.

  “Ummgh!” Henry grunted. “It’s a damn fine cook and houseboy the village will be losing.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sir Gabe…Sir Gabe.”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s a group of men downstairs to see you, sir.”

  Gabe rose up from the hammock on the viewing deck. The afternoon was pretty. It was the sunniest day in the last week or so. Watching the lazy clouds overhead, Gabe’s eyes had grown heavy and he’d drifted off to sleep. He must have slept for over an hour. He had been thinking of Faith; surely she’d had their child by now. Their son, if Nanny was to be believed. Mother had tried to comfort him and assured him that women bore children every day, so there was no reason to worry on that part.

  When he’d spoken of his concerns and worries to Dagan, he’d replied, “I see no squalls ahead.”

  “Who are they, Mattie?” Gabe asked in regards to the waiting men.

  “One of them is that handsome devil…ah, cox’n of yours, sir. I don’t know who the rest of them are, but they are a mixed lot to be sure.”

  By the time Gabe had gotten his boots on and made it to the kitchen, Dagan was sitting at a small table talking to Hex. One of the new maids was taking something out the back door, so undoubtedly the other men had been cast loose while Hex came inside. Seeing Gabe, Hex rose up but was motioned back to his seat.

  Dagan volunteered, “Who needs recruiting flyers and a press gang when Jake is out and about?”

  Over a glass of bourbon, which Gabe knew was certain to please his cox’n, Hex told the stor
y of his travels, starting with the surprises at home, the men outside, and the handsome lass on the coach. Hex had finally learned her name was Katie Conrad. “She gave me permission to call when we get back to England, and even hinted a letter here and there would be welcomed.”

  “No telling when we’ll get back,” Dagan said, and then felt a pang of guilt as his sister, Gabe’s mother, passed by. Stubborn woman, he thought, why won’t she come with us?

  Thinking of Dagan’s words, Hex said, “If we were to get back in the next two or three years, be like she’d already got married, had a brat or two and gotten fat.”

  “That’s possible,” Gabe replied. “But it doesn’t hurt to consider that she might wait.”

  Hex then came to the point of coming to Gabe’s house before reporting to the ship. “I’m sure Ford and Slade, that’s the names they’ve decided on, can sign on as topmen. Having a note from you will prevent any questions.” Gabe nodded his acceptance. Hex then explained about Crowe and Fleming possibly being good candidates for the admiral’s cox’n and secretary.

  “Would you consider being the admiral’s cox’n and Crowe being my cox’n?” Gabe asked, wanting to offer Hex the higher position.

  “No sir, not as long as you are satisfied with me.”

  Gabe smiled. He didn’t think Hex would have taken the admiral’s job. He’d have been disappointed if Hex had, but just the same, he felt he needed to make the offer.

  “Chen Lee is my only concern,” Hex said. “I know Nesbit will most likely take care of the cooking for both you and the admiral, but I couldn’t just cast off and leave the little fellow, sir.”

  “Well, you say he was a houseboy and he can cook. It could be the admiral would use him as his servant.”

  “I think that he’d make a good one too, sir.”

  Uh huh, Gabe thought. Damme, if Hex wasn’t the wise one. Put just enough out there for me to make a recommendation and then jump on it, knowing full well it was on his mind all along. Looking at Dagan, Gabe asked, “Remind you of anyone?”

  “I don’t see any physical resemblance, but he and Bart are two peas from the same pod.”