Trident

by Michael Aye

  Gabe knew it was nothing but talk. In truth, Taylor and Parkinson were envious. Having the admiral on your ship would get your name in a report at the least and possibly earn a man an early promotion if the situation arose.

  ***

  Dagan sat across from Gabe. He’d been trying to assure Gabe that all would be well with Faith when they returned. ‘Trying’ was the key word, as he really didn’t have a good feel. Too many things seemed to be crowding his mind: his sister back in Portsmouth, Betsy in the colonies, and the mission ahead. Squalls, he kept thinking. Squalls, and Gabe’s mind elsewhere. Hex had a done a good job, actually better than good, but now…now Dagan felt he would be needed, and before too long. Gabe…well, Gabe isn’t the only one who needs to clear his mind, Dagan thought.

  A knock at the door and Hex entered. The marine sentries had long since learned that Dagan and Hex came and went as they pleased. There was no need to announce either.

  “Zebra has been spotted,” Hex said, confirming Gabe’s suspicion when he’d heard the lookout’s cry. “I told the first lieutenant that I’d bring word, sir, so the young gentleman could continue his lessons with the master.”

  Gabe could just hear Hayes as he patiently tried to teach the middies how to go about the noontime sights. Gabe could remember his first master. “Pay attention, Mr. Anthony, I’ll not have the admiral say I was remiss in teaching his son the proper technique.” A rap across his backside with a bosun’s starter once when he’d been daydreaming during a lesson assured the master he had young Anthony’s full attention in the future.

  Admiral Buck’s head had just broken the entry port when the shrill of the bosun’s pipe and honours were rendered. Buck bowed and quickly doffed his hat. As he shook hands with Gabe, he said, “Have the captains repair on board, and then come down to my cabin.”

  “Aye,” Gabe said, and then turned to the first lieutenant.

  “I’ve sent for the signal midshipman, sir,” he said.

  “Damn, but that was quick,” Gabe quipped.

  “I was expecting it, sir,” Campbell replied, and then added, “I also overheard the admiral.” Gabe clapped his first lieutenant on the shoulder, and then turned to go below.

  The officers gathered in the cramped space of the great cabin. Seeing the officers so close, Buck felt a pang of guilt at taking the sixty-four as a flagship. She was not meant to be utilized so. No need to dwell on it now, though.

  After a quick greeting, Buck got down to business. “I am sure Captain Jenkins will be glad to have his ship back,” he began which caused the officers to laugh. Once they quieted down, Buck continued, “The Dons were cordial, but cool and closed mouthed when I tried to bring up the possibility of American privateers on the island. The only real response was, ‘I’ve not been informed of such’. However, Captain Jenkins took the opportunity to talk with a fisherman who’d brought his catch to the city’s market. Telling the man how much he liked fish but alas had no opportunity to do much fishing, he asked if he might purchase enough for his crew to enjoy a good meal. It would be a delightful change from the routine ship’s fare. The old man was glad to make such a sell and was even happier when our good captain invited the man aboard for a glass to seal the deal.”

  Buck paused and said, “Should any of you like to add fish to your evening meal, I’m sure Captain Jenkins has plenty to share.” The men smiled and then broke out in laughter when Buck said, “But if Chen Lee hears that, I’ll have the informant flogged around the squadron.”

  Crowe, who was standing in the back of the cabin, swallowed hard and wondered if he could intercept the admiral’s servant.

  Buck continued on, “Aside from the addition of fish to our diet, the other benefit of Jenkins’ time with the fisherman is that the man told our good captain the Americans don’t care for fish as much as the British do. It seems there are several ships anchored just off the beach from his fishing village. Moruga, gentlemen, is where our foe is spending his days. We purposely avoided the area when we departed, going back through the Caribbean rather than taking the Serpent’s Mouth. Now, here is what I plan.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Under topsails and close-hauled, Jenkins’ sloop was jammed full of men and towed two of Trident’s boats, a launch and a cutter. Buck sat in the sloop’s tiny cabin, which was sparsely furnished. No extra trimmings or extravagance. The cabin was like the man, nothing false or flashy.

  Jenkins was a confident captain and had a thoroughly trained and seasoned crew. His subordinates were reliable and showed confidence in their handling of the ship. Another testament to their captain, who had no doubt, trained them well.

  Making his way into the dimly lit cabin, Jenkins informed the admiral, “We are about a mile off the coast, sir. The wind is picking up and will make for a hard pull in the boats.”

  Buck went to stand and remembered just in time to duck the overhead beam. Jenkins handed him a cup, “A bit of something to warm you up, sir.” A cup of lukewarm coffee, but laced liberally with brandy.

  I wonder if he knows Silas, Buck thought, thinking of Lord Anthony’s man. Once on deck, Buck was met by Lieutenant Campbell. Trident’s first lieutenant would lead the cutting out. Buck could also see the marines as they stood by, waiting for Zebra to lower two of her long boats.

  Blocks squeaked and the ship’s boats made their way from the boat tiers and down alongside the ship. Soon, sailors and marines were going over the side and down into the waiting boats.

  Buck walked up to Lieutenant Campbell and said, “It’s your party, Lieutenant, so act as you see fit. If you can cut out one of our ships so be it, if not, try to fire a cannon through the bottom or set it afire. I don’t want that bloody Horne to use any more of our ships against us, if at all possible.”

  “I understand,” Campbell said.

  Campbell was to send the cutter ashore. Jenkins’ first lieutenant was in charge of that party. “Gunter is a good man,” Jenkins said. He’d better be, thought Campbell.

  After a steady row for what seemed like an eternity, the master’s mate, Laqua, made his way aft to the stern sheets. “I can see light from ashore, sir. Looks like campfires, several of them.”

  “Cease rowing,” Campbell ordered.

  The other boats, which had been directly astern following in the launch’s wake, pulled alongside. The seamen were all tired from the long pull into the wind. Gunter was to take a party and create a diversion ashore. Once that was done, Campbell’s party would see about the ships.

  “Remember, Gunter, a diversion,” Campbell cautioned. “We don’t want to needlessly risk any life or kill any of the islanders. That would cause problems with the Dons. Otherwise, Admiral Buck would have sailed in with the squadron and given the rogues a broadside or two. We will give you a ten…no, fifteen minute head start, and then make our way to the anchored ships. Remember – create a diversion, then pull back. If a man falls, bring him with you.”

  “Aye,” Gunter said, acknowledging his instructions.

  “Now, everyone put on your armbands and you be off.” Campbell watched as the cutter pulled off. A hard row going ashore but the wind would be at their backs for the return trip.

  As the three boats bobbed about, Campbell frequently checked his watch. The men were silent, each deep in his own thoughts, most of them hoping the pre-dawn expedition would result in a bit of prize money. Finally, he ordered the men back at their oars. After ten minutes of steady pulling, Laqua passed the word he could make out two ships anchored dead ahead and another off to larboard.

  “Pass the word for Laqua to come aft,” Campbell whispered to the closest seaman. Soon the stout figure was in the stern sheets hovering over Campbell.

  “Let’s pull in between the two ships and hook onto the main chains. Keep the men quiet but ready,” Campbell said. “If there appears to be no anchor watch, up you go. I’d like to be on board, if possible, by the time Gunter creates the diversion.”

  “If there’s no opposition do
we cut the cable and try to get underway?” Laqua asked.

  “Yes, the wind and the tide is right but if she runs aground, hole her and get a fire started.”

  “If there are prisoners, sir?” Laqua inquired.

  “Cast them over the side if you have to. We don’t have enough men to hold a proper guard over the whoresons.”

  Finding no watch, the cutting out party swarmed up the sides of the unsuspecting ships. What passed for an anchor watch was asleep, lying on the deck by the ship’s wheel on the ship Laqua’s men boarded. A rap with a belaying pin made sure he stayed asleep.

  “Bugger will wake with the worst headache ’e ever ’ad,” a seaman whispered.

  “If ’e wakes,” his mate answered.

  Laqua’s ship had only a few of its crew aboard. They were all asleep in their hammocks and were quickly dealt with.

  “Time to cut the cable, lads,” Laqua whispered as he came back on deck.

  The sky was starting to brighten, almost dawn. Looking across to the other ship, Laqua could see Campbell walking across its deck. On shore a dog barked, was silent a minute and then started barking again. This time other dogs joined in. Damn, Campbell thought, I hope Gunter hasn’t got himself into some fix.

  Laqua spoke to Pittman, a bosun’s mate in his party. “Cut the forward cable. With the flood tide and the wind from shore she should swing around.”

  Thuds were heard forward as the cable was cut to the ship’s best bower. As expected, the bow swung around until the ship was pointing out to sea. Laqua put a seaman on the wheel and took a group to set the head sails.

  Back at the wheel, Pittman said, “She’s tugging at her aft cable.”

  “Cut her loose,” Laqua ordered.

  Once that cable was cut, the brig surged forward like a racehorse out of the gate. “She answers her helm,” the seaman at the wheel volunteered.

  Looking aft, Laqua could see Campbell swing around.

  Soon a fire appeared ashore; a big roaring blaze lighting up the little fishing village. Shouts could be heard coming from the beach. At first, everyone’s attention was on the fire and nobody seemed to notice the ships drifting out to sea. Then someone on the third ship fired a musket. They had been spotted, but too late; they were underway.

  As Campbell’s ship began to make headway, he had the two stern guns loaded and run out. Once they were brought to bear, Campbell had a round fired from each into the hull of the third ship of the privateers.

  “That should wake them,” a marine sergeant commented.

  “I think Mr. Gunter has taken care of that for us,” Campbell replied. “We just added the fireworks.”

  This caused the men to laugh. The laughter was cut short, however, when a cannon was fired and the shot landed alongside, splashing the men on the small quarterdeck.

  “Upset the buggers you did,” a seaman volunteered.

  Where had that come from? Trident’s first lieutenant wondered. Looking to the men at the wheel, Campbell ordered, “Two points to larboard.” He then called to a bosun’s mate, “See if we can get more sail on her, Moore.”

  Campbell quickly took a glass and looked astern, another ship, how had they missed it? They had not intended to cut out two ships, but by doing so they were vastly undermanned trying to sail them both out. Hopefully, Gunter would be where he could be picked up without having to reduce sail. The sound of another cannon firing echoed over the water and a hole opened in the mainsail. Trying to bring down our rigging, Campbell thought. Horne wants his ship back without too much damage, if it is the American.

  “Sir, Laqua ’as veered to larboard.”

  Looking through his glass, Campbell could just see Laqua was changing course to pick up Gunter’s group. A grappling hook was thrown to the cutter, and with little effort the boat was pulled alongside. Gunter’s party was up the battens and through the entry port in nothing flat.

  BOOM!…Damned if the rascal didn’t seem closer. BOOM!...He’s got two forward chase guns, Campbell thought. That can’t be the same ship he’d fired into. It had to be another one from further down the beach. One they hadn’t spotted. It should be only a mile or so, and then they’d be up to Zebra and beyond that the rest of the squadron.

  ***

  On board Zebra, Buck felt like an animal in a cage as he paced the cramped quarters of Jenkins’ cabin. He’d been on deck but felt it’d do no good for the men to see how nervous he was. Shadows danced across the cabin as the sun came up.

  Jenkins had just come about and was closing in on the rendezvous area when he heard a shout and the sound of feet running across the deck.

  Unable to stand it any longer, Buck was rising to go topside when Jenkins rushed into the cabin. “Gunfire, sir, my master is sure of it.”

  On deck, a shout called down, “Sail ho!” Then after a moment, he added, “Two ships being chased by a third ship, sir.”

  The unmistakable sound of cannon fire could now plainly be heard.

  “Set a course to intercept those ships, Captain.”

  “Aye, aye, Admiral.”

  The small ship seemed to take off as Jenkins called for more sail and adjusted his course to intercept the fleeing ships. On board Campbell’s ship, the balls were now finding their mark. Tired of trying to disable the ship’s riggings, the cannon’s fire was now directed to the ship’s deck. Just forward the larboard bulwark had been blasted away and two men impaled with large splinters.

  Campbell sent a trusted seaman down to the captain’s cabin for something that might ease their pain. He returned with a bottle of wine.

  “It ain’t rum, sir, but maybe it’ll take the edge off their pain temporarily like.”

  BOOM!...Another crash, this one hit the aft rail. Thankfully, nobody appeared injured.

  “Take her two points to starboard,” Campbell ordered. He’d been zigzagging but not so the privateer captain could detect a pattern.

  Up forward a cheer was heard. “It’s the Zebra, Mr. Campbell,” a seaman shouted. “The admiral ‘as come to get us.”

  Another crash was heard and the hull shook where a ball had hit it. Hopefully, there will be something left for the admiral to rescue, the lieutenant thought. Soon, Zebra had passed Laqua’s ship and was bearing down on Campbell and the enemy.

  A cheer went up as Zebra passed Campbell’s ship. Men shouting, “Huzza, the admiral will show ‘em proper like.”

  Jenkins had fired his forward guns to let the Yankee know he now had a ship with teeth to take on.

  “A hit,” the lookout called down.

  “Reduce sail, Captain,” Buck ordered. “I want you to put a broadside into yonder ship as we come about.”

  “Aye, Admiral, but those are twelve pounders with greater range and weight than what Zebra carries,” Jenkins advised.

  BOOM!...BOOM!...BOOM…Zebra’s six-pounders spat forth her entire broadside.

  “You hit ‘em, sir, you hit ‘em,” the lookout called down.

  Zebra had completed her turn and was now sailing under full canvas in retreat when the privateer’s cannons found their mark. The first ball hit the mast, which shuddered but didn’t come down. The second ball hit the small quarterdeck, tearing the wheel away and leaving a bloody spot where the helmsman had been. Suddenly, the ship slewed out of control and the damaged mast came down. Several men were flung to the deck as the enemy balls tore into Zebra. Before the men had a chance to recover, much of the overhead rigging toppled down on them.

  Captain Jenkins tried to clear his head as he got to his feet. As his vision cleared, the first thing he saw was that the admiral was down; down and bleeding from several wounds made by splinters. His arm lay in an odd angle and he was unconscious. “Dear God,” Jenkins prayed. “Don’t let him be dead.”

  Stunned men started to gather around their captain and the admiral. Jenkins called to his bosun, “Quick man, see what we can do to regain steering.”

  The gunner was down but rising, determined to get the crew back to working the
guns. A bosun’s mate and a midshipman had a party hacking away at the downed mast. Jenkins then realized the ship had a terrible list and would capsize should a wave of any size crash into them before the mast was hacked away.

  BOOM!...BOOM!…Damme, Jenkins thought, cannot the rogue see we cannot fight. After a moment, it dawned on him that not only had they not been hit, but the sound of those shots was from a much bigger gun, a twenty-four pounder at least. Looking forward, Jenkins could see the flagship, her forward guns blazing. Captain Anthony had disobeyed orders and closed with the coast. Hearing gunfire, he’d chosen to risk international outrage, and come to the aid of his admiral. Would I have done the same? Jenkins wondered.

  “Look,” someone shouted. “They’s come about and hauled their wind, the bloody cowards. No match for Trident, they ain’t.”

  ***

  Gabe had Trident hove to and sent several boats over to Zebra. The surgeon, Cornish, was in Gabe’s gig.

  “I was afraid to move the admiral when I saw you crossing over with the surgeon, sir,” Jenkins explained. “I knew the surgeon would want to see him in the light.”

  Cornish did a quick evaluation of Admiral Buck, and then came over to Gabe. “He’s in a bad way, Captain. He has broken the upper bone in his arm, which will require surgery to fix, and it still might have to come off. He’s been impaled with at least three splinters, maybe more. I won’t know until I can remove his uniform.”

  “I’ll have him taken to Trident,” Gabe said.

  “I’d rather not,” Cornish argued. “I’ll do what I can for him here on deck and once we return to Charlottesville…we are returning to Charlottesville?” he asked.

  “Aye,” Gabe replied.

  “Good, when we get there I will have the admiral taken ashore where I can take care of him properly.”

  “He’s not going to die, is he?” Gabe stuttered.

  “That’s in God’s hands,” Cornish answered. “But I will do all I can to prevent it. Of course, any help you may offer up in the way of prayer would be appreciated.” Then looking at the captain, Cornish continued, “Are you in good standing with the Almighty, Captain?”