Trident

by Michael Aye

  The dawn of a new day, one never knew what dawn’s early light would bring. Hatless, Gabe could feel the breeze blow his hair. They should make Cape Town in another day…two at the most. Around the Cape of Good Hope and two-hundred-fifty miles off the east coast of Africa lay Madagascar and the enemy. He was ready; ready to meet these raiders and go home…home to Faith and his new son. If he survived.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Land ho.” The cry created a wave of excitement among the crew as men looked up and those more brave than others rushed to the rails. However, it would likely be an hour before land was visible from the deck. Hearing the patter of feet on deck, Gabe was not surprised to see young Mr. Caed and Mr. Brayden scamper across the deck and up the shrouds like monkeys.

  Mr. Caed was a couple of ratlines ahead but Mr. Brayden was catching up fast. It was only the duty that kept Mr. Sebastian on the deck.

  “Any wager on who will reach the tops first?”

  Turning, Gabe smiled and spoke, “Damned, Dagan, if you ain’t taking on Bart’s bad habits more-n-more.” Walking forward they could see Lord Skalla.

  “Morning Gabe,” Lord Skalla said as the two approached. He had been leaning on the forecastle rail.

  “Good morning,” the two answered. “You are liable to get wet up here,” Gabe said.

  “A welcome reprieve I’d think,” Skalla replied. “I never did like Africa. It seems everything around will bite you, sting you, or eat you alive. That’s if the heat and ill humours don’t kill you first. How the Danes have survived so well is beyond me.”

  Gabe turned and leaned his back against the rail. As he did so, he saw a group waiting patiently to speak with him. The cry of “land ho” was like sugar to ants. They all came out of their holes. The carpenter, the sail maker, the purser, and the bosun, each with a list of things they needed once they reached port. They’d be surprised, because even he didn’t know how long they’d be in port, and time might not avail itself so their lists could be acted upon. Even Lord Skalla had no idea.

  “I can only promise to send a message back with my intentions as soon as possible, Captain,” he had said. “I would think it prudent to anchor in such a way we would not be impeded and have to be towed out to sea if a speedy departure proves necessary.”

  Gabe had decided to send Lord Skalla ashore with Hex and Lieutenant Laqua. Both of them were savvy enough to recognize trouble and avoid it if possible, but deal with it if need be. Dagan would go if asked but Gabe didn’t feel like asking. He’d done enough for king and country already. Gabe would send Midshipman Mark along to stay with the boatmen and keep things in order and act as messenger if needed.

  They still had ample time before entering port, but Gabe decided to go below and change his shirt. He stepped past the marine sentry, who snapped to attention and greeted him with the familiar, “Cap’n, zuh.”

  Entering the cabin, it felt like a twenty-degree drop in temperature. Nesbit had cracked the stern windows and the skylight was open, causing a gentle breeze to funnel through the cabin. Nesbit entered with a dripping bottle. “Lime juice, sir. It’s been cooling in the bilges. Would a glass by satisfying?”

  “Aye, Josh, it would.”

  Sir Gabe is in a good mood to address me as such, Nesbit thought as he hurriedly wiped the bottle down and poured his captain a glass. Gabe drank half the tangy liquid down in one swallow. He then sat down in one of the upholstered chairs next to his desk. The cool cabin and juice seem to relax him so Gabe laid his head back. He’d not been sleeping well and the fatigue was starting to set in. Hopefully, if they stayed in port he’d get a good night’s rest tonight. Soon the shipboard noises grew muffled and distant. Without meaning to, Gabe dozed off.

  “Sail ho.” The cry startled Gabe from his dozing. As he jumped up from his chair he’d forgotten about the half empty glass of lime juice propped in his lap. The consequence was a wet uniform and lap.

  “Damn,” Gabe shouted, slamming the glass down on the table.

  Oh dear, Sir Gabe has lost his pleasant mood, Nesbit thought. Not taking time to change his britches nor his shirt, Gabe came on deck in time to hear the lookout telling the first lieutenant the sails were merchant vessels. He walked to the larboard side of the quarterdeck.

  A swell caused Trident’s deck to cant slightly, so he gripped the sun-warmed wood of the rail. The heat seemed more intense than that in Barbados. At the wheel, the master was in a whispered conversation with the helmsman; giving last minute instructions about coming into a foreign port and anchoring, no doubt.

  Lord Skalla appeared on deck, hatless as usual, but with a white ruffled silk shirt. Seeing Gabe’s gaze, Skalla said, “I’ve already changed for the trip ashore, but with this sun blazing down I could not bear the thought of my dress coat just now. These pants are too hot by themselves.” Shaking his head, in disgust, over the thick, hot pants, Skalla spoke again, “Tell me, Gabe, have you ever wondered if any London tailor has had thoughts on using materials that would be convenient anywhere else but London? It’d do one or two a world of good to spend a few months in the Caribbean or India. We would find ourselves with a choice of cloth that would prove a damn sight cooler, I believe.”

  “No doubt,” Gabe replied. “I’m sure the tailor on Antigua knows this as well and that explains his claim to turn out a suitable wardrobe in a week. Of course, the service comes with a pricey fee.”

  A cry from overhead was heard again. “More merchant ships departing Cape Town.”

  Robben Island was now off the starboard beam, about two miles south-southwest. Hayes called to the helmsman, “We’ll steer a course for Green Point.”

  In less than an hour, Trident was ready to shorten sail in preparation to enter Table Bay. The master was pointing out Blaauwberg or Blue Hill. This was a dark round hill that rose up seven hundred and forty-five feet. It sat at the northern boundary of Table Bay.

  Gabe said, “Once we shorten sail, Mr. Campbell, I want a good man in the chains. In reading the master’s charts, it seems the bottom is foul and rocky.”

  “Aye, Captain.” Without waiting for further orders, Campbell ordered, “Prepare to shorten sail.” With the shrill of the bosun’s pipe, men went to their duties.

  Hayes spoke to the helmsman again, and then turned to Gabe. “That’s Green Point, Captain, and there is Moville Point. The greatest depth is mid-channel between Green Point and Whale Rock…about twenty fathoms. I would suggest we anchor after passing Moville Point in ten to twelve fathoms so as to not run afoul of all these grocery captains.” Gabe nodded his agreement.

  The breeze was from the southeast, a land breeze. The men of the anchor party in the fo’c’sle would appreciate it, but still it would be hot work preparing the ship for anchoring. Dagan decided he did not miss those days as a common seaman. By the quarterdeck, Gabe stood next to the first lieutenant. When he dropped his hand, the anchor party let Trident’s best bower slip. Hex was standing by with his crew as the captain’s barge was being hoisted over the side to take Lord Skalla into Cape Town. It would be a long pull, but that was better than having to worry about being crowded in by some of the merchant vessels. It was doubtful many of the bumboats would make the long pull to hawk their wares.

  Fresh vegetables would be good, but you could bet that was the only thing that they carried that wouldn’t land a seaman at the surgeon’s door, poxed by some doxy, or before the captain for smuggled alcohol. Whether the men realized it or not, they would be better off if the bumboats stayed closer inshore.

  ***

  Another hour and it’ll be sunset, Hayes reflected as he gazed toward Cape Town. Lord Skalla had promised to send word back if he intended to stay for any length of time. Dagan could tell Gabe was worried as he paced the deck. He’d been down in his cabin for an hour but then returned to the deck. Is his mind on Lord Skalla, or Faith? Probably both, Dagan thought.

  Dagan decided to approach Gabe and engage him in conversation, if for no other reason than to get his mind
off his worries. No sooner had he made the decision than a cry from overhead rang out.

  “Deck thar! Barge is returning.”

  Damn the man, Gabe thought, but before he could say anything the first lieutenant spoke, “Damn it man, am I to wonder who may be in the barge?”

  More than a few of those on deck smiled at Campbell’s remarks. He was a fair man, the first lieutenant was, but he’d brook no slackness.

  “It’s the government man with Mr. Laqua and the cap’n’s cox’n.”

  “Government man,” Campbell spat. “He’s been aboard off and on for months and you still don’t know he’s Lord Skalla? Maybe some additional instruction might help. Mr. Adams!”

  “Aye, Lieutenant Campbell, educated he’ll be.”

  Once on board, Lord Skalla approached Gabe. He was fuming as he spoke, “Made to wait an hour only to find my man is at Simon’s Town. But we’ll discuss that later. Is there any chance we can weigh anchor now, Captain? We can rendezvous with the other ships once we are outside the bay.”

  “The breeze is a land breeze and the tide is on the ebb. However, I trust our master can see us safely out of the bay,” Gabe said. This brought a snicker from those within hearing. “Mr. Campbell, prepare to weigh anchor and get underway. Mr. Sebastian, if you will signal the squadron, please.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Once underway, Gabe went down to his cabin where Lord Skalla had helped himself to a glass of hock.

  “Well,” Skalla snorted in an irritated voice. “I would not be surprised to hear the Danes have thrown in with the French on the side of the Americans.”

  “Did someone say that?” Gabe asked.

  “No, it was attitude and behavior more than what was said. Did you see that Dutch sixty-four…of course you didn’t? You couldn’t have from where we were anchored,” Skalla said, after draining his glass and taking a moment to think. “She was anchored much closer inshore.”

  Lord Skalla gazed at the empty glass and set it down. Gabe called for Nesbit, and while Skalla was pacing, he ordered something a bit stronger. Fresh glasses were brought out and two fingers of the amber bourbon were poured into each one. Skalla paused in his pacing to accept the glass. Experience had taught him the fiery liquid was to be sipped, not gulped.

  After taking a sip, Skalla started again, “Bet you can’t guess where the Dutch warship just came from?” Before Gabe could speak, Skalla answered his own question. “St. Croix. Seems they’ve had some type of a raid on a fort there. While no evidence was found or flags flown to identify the culprits, they spoke English.”

  “Could have been Americans,” Gabe responded glibly.

  “Damme, sir, but we think alike. Those were my exact words when I heard the story. Of course, I was properly enraged that anyone should attack one of our friends and politely asked if any reason for the attack had been discovered. When none was given, I explained how American privateers had on several occasions attacked and raided our small island of Tobago, from whence we just came.”

  “Did you have to give a reason for looking for your man?” Gabe asked.

  “Oh yes, I volunteered it.” Seeing the confusion on Gabe’s face, Lord Skalla continued, “We have always had agents of trade between us and the Dutch. I was merely calling on the fellow, who is a lifelong family friend, on my way to the Indian Ocean, where I will speak to the Honest Johns about the American and French raiders. Did you know, Captain, our squadron is to serve as convoy protection for the East India trade ships sailing home.”

  “I do now,” Gabe acknowledged. “I doubt anyone else in the squadron knows that…except maybe Dagan.”

  “Aye,” Lord Skalla agreed with a laugh. “Except Dagan.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Dagan and Hex stood by the stern looking back at Table Mountain. “You’d have to see it to believe it,” Hex was saying. “The master says the base is granite, while the top is sandstone and rises to about 3,500 feet at the south part of the bay.

  “He’d know…his kind usually does,” Dagan responded.

  “He also said,” Hex continued trying to make conversation, “That even though the Cape Peninsula is rocky and barren with stunted trees here and there, the inland ground is rich and fertile.” When Dagan didn’t respond, Hex gave up and kept silent.

  After a minute or so, Dagan grasped his friend’s upper arm. “Forgive me, Jake, I’m poor company this afternoon. I think I’ll go down and write a few letters.”

  Hex watched as Dagan walked away. His demeanor spoke volumes. He thinks we are in for a fight, Hex decided. Well, at least he’s got someone to write to. That’s more than I can say. Were it not for Sir Gabe, I’d be as much adrift as anyone. Thinking back to England, Hex sighed and then smiled to himself. Well, there was a lass or two who’d not soon forget old Jake Hex, he bet. Wonder if Katie remembers our coach ride? Probably not, but then again maybe…

  In the great cabin Gabe, the master, and the first lieutenant were going over the charts again.

  “Simon’s Town lies at the foot of these hills,” the master was saying. “Last time I was there, they only had a single street. Of course, there are lots of little fishing villages all along here,” he said pointing to little beaches on the map. “To get to Simon’s Town we have to enter False Bay. Since it’s near night I’d say lets sail out to sea and make our approach in the morning.”

  Lord Skalla, who’d been lounging in one of Gabe’s upholstered chairs, rose up on hearing this. “Is there no way to enter tonight? I need to speak with my man as early tomorrow as possible.”

  Hayes stared at the ‘government man’ for a second. Clearing his throat, he said, “We need plenty of sea room when we round the cape. Three to five miles, I’d say. More if the wind picks up.”

  “Once around the cape,” Hayes continued with emphasis, “and with a fair wind, we steer north-northeast into False Bay. According to my charts, Simon’s Bay lies but eleven miles northward of Cape Point, near the northwest corner of False Bay. The ordinary channel into Simon’s Bay lies between Noah’s Ark here and the Roman Rocks here, a width of seven cables. My recommendation, Captain, with time being a factor, is I’d round the cape but anchor once we are in False Bay and enter Simon’s Bay upon the morrow.” Lord Skalla didn’t miss the “captain.”

  “Very well,” Gabe replied. His answer was direct with finality.

  Hearing this, Lord Skalla seated himself. He was no sailor. If entering the bay at night might jeopardize the ship there’d be no mission. The mission had to come first.

  ***

  Entering False Bay proved no problem at all. Dawn came with a fair breeze, causing wavelets that lapped against Trident’s hull. Now the squadron had weighed anchor yet again and were making their way into Simon’s Bay.

  Campbell greeted Gabe, “The anchor party is getting plenty of practice, Captain. Before you know it they’ll be able to do it in their sleep.”

  “Hopefully, they will be able to add to their practice today,” Gabe replied. “After that, I hope the next time we break out the bower will be in Carlisle Bay.”

  “Aye, I’m ready for a break, as I know you are, Captain.”

  Did the first lieutenant know about his fight with Faith, Gabe wondered. Somehow word always seemed to get out aboard a ship.

  Hayes ambled up. He was about to speak but paused as the lead man called out, “By the mark, fourteen and a half.” Not liking the sounding, Hayes turned towards the man in the chains.

  “By the mark, sixteen.” A look of relief flooded over the master with the new sounding. Plenty of water under the keel and it should remain so into the anchorage.

  He turned back to Gabe and spoke, “That flat rock is called Noah’s Ark, Captain. Not sure who named it. On the other side, you will see Roman Rock. See the white water as the waves crash on it? That’s a picture I’d love to paint. We were in Simon’s Bay once when from the southwest a wind rose that not only brought rain, but the cold as well. I was later told it’s called the
kloof wind.” Handing Gabe his glass, the master then pointed out a conspicuous mountain in to the northeast. “That is Hangklip Berg, Captain. It rises over Cape Hangklip. From anywhere in Simon’s Bay it’s a true bearing of S.71ºE. No matter what position the ship is in. More than one captain has anchored here and found the ship’s compass in need of adjustment.”

  “Sounds like a good exercise for the young gentlemen,” Gabe said.

  “It’s already in the plans, Captain. Time permitting, it is in the plan,” the master said.

  ***

  Lord Skalla went ashore as he had done the previous day. Only this time the barge with Hex and Laqua was back within the hour. Gabe called his professional men together and gave them permission to go ashore. A signal had been sent to the rest of the squadron and soon ship’s boats were plying back and forth from ship to shore.

  Hearing the water in Simon’s Town was excellent, barrels were brought up from the hold, emptied, scoured and made ready for the water hoy.

  Nesbit, Hex, and Dagan had all found reason to go ashore. Gabe had considered inviting all the captains to dine that evening when the sentry announced, “First Lieutenant, zur.”

  Gabe rose to greet Campbell, “All I have to offer is a glass of lukewarm lime juice, Don, but if it fits your taste, pour yourself a glass.”

  “Thank you, sir, I believe I will.” Campbell then handed an envelope to Gabe. “Boat is alongside waiting for your reply,” the first lieutenant added.

  Reading the note, Gabe spoke, “We are invited to dine with Lord Skalla’s man tonight and afterward a captain’s conference.”

  “So it is not a social occasion,” Campbell said.

  “Not that it would appear.” Then having a thought, Gabe walked over to his desk and took his writing quill out, dipped it into the ink bottle and scribbled a few lines. He returned to where Campbell sat. “Finish your glass, Mr. Campbell, and then have the boat take you ashore. Deliver this to Lord Skalla personally.”