Trident

by Michael Aye

  “Aye,” Gabe replied sarcastically, but with a grin on his face. “Dagan, if you’ll give Jake another glass…a small glass, I will write a note to the first lieutenant and the admiral. If the admiral is not at Scolfes, inquire as to where he may be, Jake.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Jake.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “I can’t speak for the admiral in regards to his staff. He may have others in mind.”

  “I realize that, sir.”

  “Good. Jake?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You did a good job.”

  “Thank you, sir.” After tossing off the last of the warm golden liquid, Hex thought, now that’s a man’s drink. Given the choice I’ll take Kentucky bourbon every time. He then had another thought cross his mind. Given the choice I’d cast my lot with Sir Gabe and Dagan every time. As Bart would say, “And that’s no error.”

  ***

  The sun was up and starting to shine over England. Jep Jepson had been up before dawn, a habit spawned by being at sea most of his life. Regardless of the time of year or the location, the hour before dawn always seemed to be the darkest, the most damp, and coolest part of the day. To many people it was depressing having to rise up at that time. To Jep it was routine. Something he could live with, or live without when the time came. His first lieutenant, Peter Parks, was already on deck. Jep could hear the lieutenant’s voice through the small skylight. The young man was showing the makings of a good seaman and had already shown he was better than average for someone of his experience. A great deal of it had been due to the example his captain had set, though Jep would never consider it.

  Parks, Jep had thought more than once, the young devil will probably be a captain while I’m still a lieutenant. Not that Jep was sorry for taking his promotion or being given such a fine little command. That’s just the way it was. Over-aged lieutenants rarely went beyond such station, but a few had, with some of them attaining the lofty rank of admiral.

  Jep had no desire to hang around that long though, truth be told. Of course, with this war with the American cousins, another promotion was not unthinkable. Gabe had risen from midshipman to captain and Lord Anthony from captain to vice admiral. No, promotion was not out of the question for him, all it would take was just a bit of luck on his side. The strong, unmistakable odor of coffee filled the tiny cabin as his servant entered.

  Mindful of his captain’s ways, Briggs knew that the best way to keep the captain happy was to have a cup of strong brew ready as soon as possible after he crawled out of his cot.

  “There’s a fair wind coming across the anchorage this morning, Cap’n,” Briggs volunteered. “It’s going to be a booger getting the sails set ’thout them flogging so loud that the admiral will think the Frogs ’as attacked us with guns ablazing.”

  Jep couldn’t help but smile. Briggs always had been the one for exaggerations. Still in his day he had no equal as a topman. Now with a busted timber, he was glad to have a billet and not be on the beach where he’d be forced to live out his days little more than a pauper.

  ***

  Captain Stephen Earl, having been given permission to stand on the quarterdeck, watched as Jepson’s first officer went about getting ready to weigh anchor and set sail. Pegasus was a fine little ship with a good crew and officers who knew their business, a testament to the captain.

  “Captain.” It was the midshipman, Bucklin. The young man was facing the wind as he spoke and his words seemed to whistle. “Mr. Parks’ respects, sir. We have the port admiral’s boat approaching, sir.”

  “Gawd,” Jep snarled, slipping back into his master’s language. Turning to Earl he said, “Probably the port admiral’s brother. I hear he has a bumboat business.” This made Earl smile as a few chuckles were heard from some of the seamen close by.

  “Probably wants to get in a last minute sale, the bloke,” one of the seamen volunteered, causing more chuckles.

  Soon Lieutenant Parks made his way to the quarterdeck. One of the admiral’s staff, a young lieutenant, had delivered a message. Jepson gave a sigh after reading the message.

  Handing it to Earl to read, Jepson addressed Parks, “Secure the hands, Mr. Parks. We are to await Lord Skalla from the foreign office. He is to take passage with us to Barbados.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Thinking back to an incident that happened at Sandy Hook the previous year, he addressed the lieutenant again, “Mr. Parks.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “Do keep young Robinson occupied when Lord Skalla arrives. We can’t have Pegasus’ reputation soiled by his dumping another foreign office representative into the drink.”

  Parks’ eyes sparkled as he recalled the incident where Sir Victor’s man had been knocked overboard by the midshipman, who then threw the man a rope that was not secured at the bitter end. Had the captain not had the sense to stand on the end of the rope, the man likely would have drowned. Smiling, Parks replied, “Aye, Captain, busy he will be.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Gabe had just settled down to lunch. A sandwich of salted beef, cheese and a sauce made of horseradish. Lord Sandwich, the First Lord of the Admiralty, was reportedly the first person to come up with the ingenious idea of putting meat between two slices of bread. It was said he was such a busy man that he rarely had time for food, and so instead of dining as usual, he’d have the food brought to his desk. Busy, Gabe thought, the man was busy but it was reported he would spend a day at a time at the card table in one of his clubs. Gil also told of some rowdy times when they were both young men. That was before he became First Lord of the Admiralty. He was just Lord Sandwich. A very wealthy, carousing, gambling Lord Sandwich.

  Gabe’s mother sat across from him, playing with her food. She ate like a bird, to his way of thinking, but today she had eaten less. Gabe knew what was troubling her. This was his last night ashore. Tomorrow, weather permitting, they would set sail.

  He had mixed emotions and felt a pang of guilt because of it. He was ready to be free of the land, and to see if Trident was the sailor Stephen Earl had made her out to be. But he was also saddened by the thought that he didn’t know when he’d see his mother again. He had no way of knowing when, or even if, he’d be back to England.

  Glancing across the table, he saw a packet of papers that were to be delivered to his solicitor. He’d met with his agent, banker, and solicitor. All were friends of his brother-in-law, Hugh. It seemed strange to think of Hugh as a relative. They had become very close since Gabe’s return. Hugh had been very helpful in directing Gabe on how to set things up so his mother would be taken care of financially.

  “It’s better to deal with men of good standing in such affairs,” Hugh had said. “Never trust a man who offers you a bargain. Usually he’s the only one receiving it.”

  Finishing his meal, Gabe could feel something between his teeth. He went into the kitchen and pulled a straw from a broom he’d spied. Picking his teeth made him remember he’d ordered a full dozen of the new toothbrushes made from boar bristles. William Addis was said to have invented the new brush while he was in jail for causing a riot.

  Admiral Buck swore by the things. By making a paste with water and salt and then dipping the brush into the paste, the teeth could be scrubbed very comfortably. “You can do it every day,” Buck had exclaimed. Having a toothache at sea was not something that Gabe wanted. He’d seen men with bad teeth in tremendous pain, their jaws swollen as big as lemons. The ship’s surgeon had instruments to pull teeth, but that was just as painful. It took a lot of brandy or grog to put a man out so that he could have a tooth pulled. Even with the spirits, a leather strap was usually in order.

  A knock was heard at the front door. Gabe’s mother rose up out of her chair to go answer it but settled back down, recalling they had a servant to do that now. It was nice, and Gabe said with the prize money that he’d made these new luxuries were nothing. Dagan had whispered privately that both he and Gabe had put up a “rig
ht smart,” as he termed it, so she shouldn’t be worrying about cost. Dagan had also visited Hugh’s banker and solicitor. Should he fall, Maria would inherit his wealth.

  Gabe had just drained the last of the tea in his cup when the new servant, Molly, entered the room.

  “There’s a messenger here, Sir Gabe. Says he’s from the port admiral.”

  This did surprise Gabe. He went to greet the young lieutenant.

  “Admiral Webster’s compliments, sir, and could you attend him at your earliest convenience?”

  “Of course,” Gabe replied. Earliest convenience meant now. “Let me change and I will be right there.”

  “Very well, sir. I shall tell the admiral you are on your way.”

  Gabe headed up the stairs to change. Seeing his mother, he volunteered, “I don’t know what it is.” Bounding up the steps he stopped. “Mother, is Jake still out back?”

  “I think so, son.”

  “Would you send Molly to get him, please? I have some errands that need to be done and I’m not sure how long this will take.” Seeing the look of concern on his mother’s face, Gabe added, “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, Mother. Otherwise, we’d have heard from Admiral Buck.” Unless it’s about Admiral Buck, Gabe thought but didn’t say. That would be something to worry about.

  ***

  Hex had the coachman ready when Gabe walked outside. He had forgotten his cloak and thought of going back for it as he heard the rumble of distant thunder. The coachman had his own cloak on already. Not enough time, Gabe decided. As he stepped into the coach, he saw the first drops of rain.

  “To the port admiral?” the coachman said.

  His mind still on his cloak, it took a moment for Gabe to respond, “Yes, the port admiral.” Dagan stepped out of the house. Seeing him Gabe shouted, “I’m off to the port admiral.”

  Dagan nodded that he’d heard then shouted back, “Good news.”

  The coach gave a lurch as the horses strained against the harnesses. Gabe automatically put up the window to keep the rain out, but his thoughts were on Dagan’s words, “good news.”

  After a short ride, Gabe jumped from the door of the coach even before it came to a complete stop in front of the port admiral’s building, his boots splashing in a puddle of water and spotting up his white breeches. The door was opened by a servant, who took his cocked hat. Obviously, he had a place for it so that it wouldn’t drip on the highly polished wooden floors.

  Taking a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light, Gabe looked about the room. He realized a number of naval officers sat in chairs or stood in small groups. A couple of the captains he recognized. Most were probably here trying to get the port admiral to agree to something or provide some item or another for their ship.

  Another servant had made his way up to Gabe without being seen. He coughed, and once he had Gabe’s attention said politely, “This way, sir. The admiral is waiting for you in his office.”

  “Thank you,” Gabe replied, and then grimaced when he took a step and his wet boot squeaked. He flushed as he realized the entire room full of officers was looking his way upon hearing the squishing noise. Damme, he thought, not a good beginning.

  Maybe the scrutiny had more to do with his being allowed to go straight back. Some of the officers had probably been waiting hours.

  A small fire was going in the fireplace to take out the dampness and chill brought on by the afternoon rain. Admiral Webster was staring out the rain-splattered window looking toward the anchorage. Admiral Buck, to Gabe’s surprise, sat in an upholstered chair with a glass in his hand. Well, it can’t be all bad, he thought, otherwise Buck wouldn’t be having a wet.

  “The mail packet came in this morning, Sir Gabe, with a letter from your brother,” Admiral Webster volunteered as he turned to Gabe.

  Damn, Gabe thought, no greeting, no have a glass, just straight to the point.

  “He entrusted it to the packet’s captain, to be brought directly to me upon his arrival.”

  A sinking feeling came over Gabe. What was it? Oh God, hopefully Faith was all right. Seeing the emotion come over Gabe, Webster said, “Give the boy the letter, Rupert, and pour him a brandy before he has apoplexy.”

  Taking the letter, Gabe read it then reread it. Without being asked, he sat down in one of the admiral’s chairs. He downed the brandy Buck handed him and coughed as the fiery liquid went down, bringing tears to his eyes.

  “I’m a father,” he managed after he quit coughing. “A boy! We have a boy.”

  “Did you name him?” Admiral Webster asked.

  “Yes sir, before I left. If it had been a girl it would have been named after Faith’s mother and grandmother. A boy was to be named after my father and Gil. His name is James Gilbert Anthony.”

  “Hear, hear,” Webster said. “Rupert, pour us another round. I suggest, Sir Gabe, you drink this one a little more slowly.”

  “Aye, sir. Slowly.” Only Gabe’s mind was racing. He had so much to do, and so many people he should tell. He needed to buy something for Faith and for the baby. What do you buy a newborn? Mother would know, he thought.

  “Gabe…Gabe.”

  “Yes sir.” Buck had been calling his name, but he was so caught up in the news he’d not heard. Damme, Gabe thought again. “I’m sorry, sir, my mind is adrift,” he said, apologizing.

  “Yes. Well, I think Lieutenant Campbell can handle the ship another day while you get your affairs in order.”

  “Thank you…both of you,” Gabe replied. “I will get right to it.” He was in the coach and headed home when he thought, I wonder what the officers thought in the admiral’s waiting area rushing out as I did. Well, it didn’t matter. What did matter was the coach taking its time getting home when he had important news for his mother. The thought that wet cobblestones might be dangerous never crossed his mind.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The candles were lit and the dinner table had been set. Gabe, Maria, and Dagan had just returned from shopping. As the three sat down at the table, Gabe asked Mattie if she’d seen Jake.

  “He waited until the rain had slacked up before he left, sir. He took the pouch of papers with him but I’ve not seen him since.” Realizing how late it was, Mattie added, “Goodness, late as it is, he should have done been back. He ain’t one to miss the evening meal, not that ’un.”

  A strange silence came over the dining room. Dagan’s chair scraped against the floor as he abruptly pushed back from the table. “I’ll be back,” he said as he made his way out. He’d felt something earlier but didn’t act when Gabe had come home with the news of his son.

  Taking his cloak down and taking a moment to get a pistol and sword, he hurried out the door. He followed the main street about ten blocks, then turned into an alley between a leather shop, a tavern, and coffee house. Two men were beating a third man with barrel staves. So intent on their victim, they didn’t notice another had arrived until Dagan spoke.

  “That’s enough.”

  Startled, the men looked up and stopped their beating of the downed man. It was Hex, as Dagan knew it would be. The men still had their arms raised to deliver another blow when Dagan spoke again.

  “It’s best you be moving along, Gov’nor, less you want some of what he’s getting.”

  “No, Padget,” Dagan responded. “It’s time you move along. You’ve already caused enough mischief as it is. But, of course, your kind never seems to learn, do they?”

  “You seem to know me mate but I don’t recall who you be.”

  “We haven’t met, or else you wouldn’t be hurting my friend,” Dagan replied. “But your wicked ways have caught up with you. You should have taken Constable Henry’s advice. But now you will pay.”

  Dropping the barrel stave, Padget pulled a pistol from his pocket. “Like as not you will be the one who pays,” the rogue responded. “One step and your friend will be a dead man.”

  “My friend’s safety is the only reason you’re still alive,” Dagan said.


  Padget’s accomplice spoke for the first time. “I don’t know about all this, Padget. I don’t mind roughing up a man for his purse, but I ain’t going to hang because you killed someone.”

  “Hush,” Padget snapped. Turning back to Dagan, he said, “You talk brave like, but I don’t see no weapons.”

  “I have them,” Dagan responded. “But they’ll not be needed. Your evil ways have caught up with you and will do you in.”

  Hex had recovered from the blows that had rained down on him and now was able to focus on the conversation. He’d caught Dagan’s eye to let him know he was alert. Still, with a pistol pointed at his head from a foot away, he felt it best to let Dagan continue without any action or interference.

  “Come on mate,” the other thief whined.

  “Listen to him,” Dagan said. “Otherwise, death awaits you.”

  “My arse,” Padget hissed. “Not as long as I got this,” he said, shaking his pistol.

  “You’ve had your warning,” Dagan said, his voice barely above a whisper. As he spoke, he held his arms out to his side, lifting the cloak outward with his arms.

  Suddenly, the second thief ducked. “What was that?”

  “Nothing,” Padget replied.

  “Nothing!?” the thief cried out as something knocked his battered hat off his head. “Bats…it’s like black bats,” the man cried out as he ducked and swatted at the air. “You can’t see them,” he screamed. “They are everywhere.”

  Now he dove toward the wet alley dirt. “Get them off me. Oh, Gawd! They’re all over me. They’re biting me. Padget, help me for God’s sake.”

  “Shut up, you idiot. You’ll attract attention,” Padget snarled.

  “To hell with you,” the poor man cried out, his face pale in the early moonlight. His eyes were wild with tears as he tried to stand while ducking to the left and right, all the time swatting at shadows.

  “Stand still, you coward, or I’ll shoot you,” Padget warned.