by Michael Aye
“Morning, Captain.” Campbell and Davy greeted in unison.
“Morning,” Gabe replied tugging his watch coat closer against the early morning nip.
“Too much haze for a clear view, but the lookout has reported several sails in sight.”
“Your lookout has a fine set of peepers,” Gabe responded. He could just make out the men at quarters on the bow of the ship.
The master ambled over to where Gabe was. “Morning, Cap’n.”
“Mr. Hayes.”
“Promises to be a clear day, Cap’n.”
“I hope so,” Gabe replied. Looking to his first lieutenant, Gabe spoke, “If the weather is as the master predicts, let’s get some of the hammocks on deck and see if we can’t dry out.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Mr. Davy.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Quick as its light enough, signal the squadron to count the convoy ships. Hopefully we haven’t lost any of our sheep.” This brought a smile to the group.
“We’ll soon be getting into the Wolf’s Lair,” Hayes volunteered.
“We’ll be hard pressed to keep the American privateers at bay. Insurance premiums being what they are you’d think you wouldn’t have the stragglers you do,” Davy added.
“Ah…Mr. Davy,” Campbell responded. “You’ve a lot to learn about grocery captains. Half of them are sailing ships with hulls so ripe it’s a wonder they don’t just fall out. Some of them do. I will bet you a good many of yonder ships are insured for far more than they are worth, ship and cargo to boot. They hope they get taken. Within a month or so they make their way back to England, file their claim and suddenly they are rich men.”
“They aren’t held as prisoners of war?” Davy asked.
“Lord no. The Americans will set them adrift close to somewhere like Antigua or Barbados and hope they will be back with another ship before long. Some have even become guests until they can suitably be passed on to some British port. I heard tell one captain’s son married the daughter of the privateer that took them. Big wedding it was. Some way to fight a war, if you ask me.”
Thinking on Ariel, Davy said, “Well, there are some Colonial ladies that will turn your head, and that is a fact.”
Smiling Gabe said, “Mr. Davy is speaking from experience, Mr. Hayes. As I recall, one of these Colonial girls has captured Mr. Davy’s heart.”
Seeing the bewildered look on the first lieutenant’s face, Davy said, “Aye, Dagan’s ward,” as if that explained it all.
***
Chen Lee, with Nesbit’s help, had prepared an evening meal that had Buck and Gabe wishing they had room to let their pants out another inch or two.
“Navy dinner pretty good, but soon Chen Lee make you fine Chinese meal. Me see how you like. You like me fix navy meal sometime and Chinese meal sometime,” the little Chinaman said in his broken English.
As the dishes were cleared away, Buck lit a cigar and Gabe his pipe. Gabe could hear Hex plucking at his mandolin topside through the skylight that was open for the first time since sailing.
Calling to Nesbit, he said, “Have Jake come down here with his instrument.” As an afterthought, Gabe added, “With your permission, Admiral?” Buck seemed to be half dozing but motioned with his hand that it was alright.
Gabe had learned during the past few months they had been in Portsmouth that in spite of claims otherwise by Hex, he did have a good voice and was a master musician with any stringed instrument, it seemed. Once Hex made his way to the admiral’s cabin, a glass of bourbon was poured for him. Gabe and Buck each sipped on their wine.
“Was that a new tune you were playing?” Gabe asked.
“Aye, Captain, a little something I’ve put together thinking on your little one.”
“Well, let’s hear it.”
“I’ve not completed it,” Hex admitted. “But here is what I have so far.” Taking a moment to tune a string and then taking a pull from the glass of whiskey, Hex sang:
Somewhere in the scheme of things
Man’s placed his hopes and dreams
In the thought that one day
He’d have a son
A boy who could carry on
His name would live
Tho he was gone
A ray of sun for the autumn days …
“Well damme, Jake, but that is good,” Buck swore.
Gabe felt emotions building up as he took a sip of his wine to steady himself before he spoke. “I agree with the admiral, Jake. I want to hear it all when it’s finished. I’m sure Faith will want to hear it as well.”
Sitting topside, Dagan took a pull on his pipe. He’d been listening to the song through the open skylight. How much change would having a son bring to Gabe? Until the war was over, very little, but after…
Sighing, Dagan thought, maybe it’s time for me to be making some plans as well. A woman in Virginia was foremost in his thoughts lately. Thinking of Gabe’s conversation with Davy and Campbell, he said to himself, “Those southern girls from the Colonies know how to turn a sailor’s head…and his heart.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
He’s dead?”
“Aye, Captain. Stiff, blue, and cold. He’s a dead one all right.”
Gabe stared at Wright. Recalling the surgeon’s screaming fits, he couldn’t help but think the poor sod’s demons were finally put to rest. They’d be in Barbados within the week and hopefully another surgeon would be available.
“Be nice to have Caleb back, wouldn’t it?” Dagan volunteered.
“You think,” Gabe started but stopped in mid-sentence as Dagan shook his head no.
“I was just saying it’d be nice.”
“Aye, that it would.” Turning back to Wright, Gabe said, “You’ve done a wonderful job thus far and I will make sure your record reflects it, Wright. If you need anything let me know, and if a surgeon is needed we can signal Stag. Captain Lamb says he has a good one.”
“Yes, sir. Dr. Miller, he’s actually a physician who wanted to see what medicine at sea was like firsthand. A gentleman from a well-to-do family I’m told, sir.”
“Yes, well I hear Captain Lamb is from a rather well-to-do family, so maybe there is a family connection somewhere.”
“Possibly, sir.”
A knock at the door brought the conversation to an end. “First lieutenant, sir,” the marine announced.
Gabe had been expecting Campbell. There had been a fight and Campbell had asked for permission to handle it unofficially rather than getting the captain involved. Gabe had agreed, knowing the captain’s punishment would be a flogging. Campbell’s method would bring respect as well as appreciation. If not, the cat could still be let out of the bag.
***
Lord Gilbert Anthony sat in a padded chair watching as his wife, Lady Deborah, and Faith, Gabe’s wife, were playing with the new baby. He had forgotten how giddy women could get when it came to children, especially newborns. Gabe had a fine son. “Looks just like his daddy,” Faith had proclaimed. Damned if I can see it, Lord Anthony thought. Women…mothers must have an eye men lacked. While the boy was a cute little fellow, Lord Anthony failed to see any resemblance to anyone he could think of. He had blondish hair, which was from Faith, as Gabe’s hair was black. His face was red, wrinkled, and chubby. How could that be considered to be the spitting image of Gabe?
Oh well, maybe Bart was right. “Best you smile and agree, otherwise your wedding tackle will rust before it’s broken out again.”
Perfect advice, Anthony thought as he realized the noise he’d been hearing off and on was Bart snoring. An empty glass of wine sat on the table between the two chairs. The flickering flame from the candelabra made shadows dance across Bart. His legs were stretched out and his pipe lay in his lap. At least it had gone out, otherwise an ember might have resulted in damage to Bart’s wedding tackle. The thought caused Anthony to smile. He could just see Bart jumping up if an ember had burned through his britches.
Laughter ma
de Anthony look back at the women. Faith was handing the baby to Nanny. They must be getting ready to go home. Unable to stifle a yarn, Anthony realized it was getting late. Deborah and Anthony had tried their best to have Faith stay with them, at least until the baby was bigger, but she had declined.
“Thank you both, but I have Nanny and Lum, as well as Ariel, with me. Lum can come get you when it is time for the baby,” Faith had promised Deborah. After the baby had been born Anthony had asked Nanny how Faith had done.
“She did fine, suh. Shucks, that girl was made for child-bearing. I just wish her mama was here to see her, course she’s looking down from heben right now.”
Lord Anthony had asked about the baby’s name but Faith had been coy, stating she and Gabe would tell everyone when he got home. Anthony hoped that wouldn’t be long. Knowing the navy as he did, it might be months or even years before Gabe returned.
Jepson had said Gabe would be underway as soon as the convoy ships had been made ready. Captain of a sixty-four, damned if Gabe hadn’t moved up fast…maybe too fast; even if England did need brave captains to sail the ships necessary for this war. It was not that Gabe hadn’t proved capable, he had. It was the responsibility that went with being a flag captain. Buck, however, would not let him flounder, Anthony was sure of that.
Jepson also had stated that Gabe had a good first lieutenant in Donald Campbell, and a master in David Hayes. An old seadog like Jepson who’d been a master himself would know.
***
A strong wind pushed the convoy, though now the sky was clear and bright. For twenty hours the ships sailed at five knots or so, where previously three knots had been only something to wish for.
“How long do you think our grocery captains will keep this up before they start to lag?” Campbell asked his captain.
“I would not venture a guess, Mr. Campbell, as I’m of the opinion it’s already lasted longer than I hoped for.”
Approaching the captain and the first lieutenant, the master still held his sextant in his bony hand. He had just completed the noontime sighting. “By my reckoning,” Hayes said, “we have crossed the thirtieth parallel.”
Gabe understood the master’s unspoken meaning. They were now over three thousand miles from England and effectively in the waters of the American privateers. The American Navy was so small it did little to cause concern for the British, but the privateers were a different story. They frequently hunted in packs of two or more and had done more to win the war for the Colonies than Washington’s army. Half the supplies sent to keep the war going had been taken from the British by rebel ships.
Now the Frogs were out in force with the Americans. This caused the British navy to be stretched so thin that many felt it was better to end the war with the Americans than risk a French invasion of England.
***
Gabe had just drained his second cup of coffee while Hex was shining his sword and taking care of his pistols. Careful to wipe all the salt spray from the weapons, Hex then applied a fine coat of oil to each pistol and then the sword. He then turned his attention to the sword sheath. A knock at the door roused Gabe, whose thoughts had been on Faith and his new son.
“The purser, suh,” the sentry announced.
“Good morning, Mr. Gibbs,” Gabe welcomed the purser.
“Good morning, Captain, I’m afraid I’ve a problem, sir.”
When the timid man failed to continue, Gabe prompted, “A problem with what?”
“Some of the cask of beef in the lower storage has sprung a leak, sir.”
“How did you discover this?” Gabe asked, wondering if the recent storm was not an opportunity for the purser to claim damages to the ship’s stores so they could be cast aside and he not be held accountable.
“The bilges smells…ah rotten, sir…quite foul.” The little man turned green just thinking of the smell.
“Are you well?” Gabe asked.
“I’m sorry, sir, I have a weak stomach and do not tolerate such humours.”
“Well, be that as it may, sir, I’m sad to say you must show me this cask,” Gabe informed the purser.
“Cannot the first lieutenant do it, sir? He knows the location.”
Gabe could see what it cost the man to admit to his weakness so Gabe relented. “I will see if Mr. Campbell is available.”
“Thank you, sir, you are most gracious.”
“He is an odd one, Captain,” Hex said. “More honest than most. but I’ve heard sometimes he gets sick when there is weevils in the biscuits.”
“And he’s in the Navy?”
“Aye, Captain.”
Lieutenant Campbell led Gabe and Hex down the hatchway and into the aft steerage. Hex held the lantern high to light up the darkness. The smell was apparent from a distance. The sounds this deep in the bowels of the ship were much different than those on the deck. The clank of the pumps was much louder, as were the groans of the ship’s timbers as the keel flexed as it cut through another wave. Water sluicing around the rudder made an eerie sound. Sounds that were not heard topside.
As the proximity of the cask in question grew close, Gabe put his handkerchief to his nose. “Damme, but that’s foul. No wonder the purser was reluctant to return down here.”
The cask was soon located.
“It looks like the line securing the tier has parted allowing these casks to slide and fall.”
“How many are there?” Gabe asked.
Holding the lantern high, Hex quickly counted. “Three maybe four casks are ruined, sir. A fifth may be saved. We can tell better once it’s on deck.”
“Very well, Mr. Campbell. Check with the surgeon’s mate and see if he has any recommendations about cleaning this area and helping with this…this foul odor.”
“Aye, Captain. Too bad we cannot run down a Frog. I’m told their officers carry unlimited quantities of perfume.”
“Well, don’t wait on that possibility, Mr. Campbell. Otherwise, we’ll not be allowed in port…anybody’s port.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The sun was directly overhead and blazed down, making the deck of Trident ooze at the seams. The bright green hillsides of Antigua were now in sight. This meant the journey was over for a number of the convoy ships. A few would be headed to the Colonies and on to Halifax, but they would be escorted by ships from Antigua. There would be a handful that would continue on to Barbados under the protection of Admiral Buck’s squadron. The voyage had been uneventful other than for the weather. A few strange sails had been sighted, but when Admiral Buck sent a couple of frigates to investigate, the ships scurried away. One island coaster had made a nuisance of itself, its captain thinking he could turn a profit selling his wares to the ships of the convoy. He was almost swamped for his troubles.
A moderate wind meant the convoy should anchor by sundown; the prospect of reaching port created an element of excitement among the men. If nothing else, a few days of relaxed routine would be welcomed.
Admiral Buck mounted the poop and approached Gabe. “I never get tired of Antigua,” he volunteered.
“Would that be due to the willing arms of a few rich widows?” Gabe asked jokingly.
“Aye,” Buck smiled. “As I recall, you never lacked for attention from the beautiful young ladies who attended Commodore Gardner’s parties. You were a dashing young middy then, and now you are a captain.”
“And you an admiral, sir.”
“Have you wondered what we’d be, were it not for this damn war?”
“I try not to,” Gabe admitted then added, “It’s because of the war that I met Faith.”
“That’s true,” Buck responded.
“Think the commodore will be about?” Gabe asked, speaking of Gardner.
“If not, we will take a ride to the plantation,” Buck answered. “He is still overseeing that for Lady Deborah, is he not?”
“I’ve not been told otherwise,” Gabe replied.
“Well, you have your ship to work, Captain, so I will leave it to
you,” Buck said, meaning I’ll get the hell out of your way.
“Aye, sir.”
***
English Harbour was a busy place. Having made his way back on deck after a quick sandwich and glass of lime juice, Gabe took in the impressive sight of so many ships at anchor. It was proof of the growing importance of naval bases in the West Indies. With the French out, the islands had to be constantly on alert for possible attack. Yet their importance as Caribbean bases was of the utmost if the British were to continue to carry the fight to the Colonies and their pesky privateers.
Within minutes the Caribbean sun had caused sweat to run down Gabe’s back, sticking his shirt to his skin. Campbell was busy rigging awnings and windsails to help provide shade to the quarterdeck and funnel as much wind as possible below decks. Gun ports were opened to help as well. Boats plied back and forth from the anchored ships to the shore. Tomorrow the activity would increase, as Admiral Buck’s squadron would also be busy gathering needed supplies and fresh stores. Water hoys were already making their way to two of the sloops.
Lieutenant Davy approached Gabe and saluted. “A boat has put off from the flagship, sir. In fact, it appears several boats have put off.”
Within minutes a young, darkly tanned lieutenant reported himself to Gabe. “Admiral Moffit sends his compliments, sir, and wishes to invite you and your first lieutenant to dinner tonight.”
“Moffit?” Gabe asked. “Dutch Moffit?”
“I understand the admiral has been called Dutch at times,” the lieutenant replied, consternation on his face.
“The admiral used to be my brother’s, Vice Admiral Lord Anthony’s, flag captain,” Gabe explained.
The lieutenant relaxed and said, “I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Lord Anthony some months back. He was a most gracious host.”