Trident

by Michael Aye

  “You have my word,” Gabe almost cried, the anguish on his face and in his voice.

  “Go below now so you’ll be ready to meet your captains,” Dagan said.

  Gabe looked into his uncle’s face. It was weathered with crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. A sprinkling of gray was at his temples. Dagan had aged right before Gabe’s eyes and he hadn’t even noticed. Damn this war, damn it to hell for taking everything a man had. Maybe Faith was right. Not caring who was on deck or who might see it, Gabe hugged Dagan and whispered, “I love you, uncle…and I may be a man but I still need you. More than ever, I need you.”

  ***

  Lord Skalla and all the captains, except those on patrol, gathered in the great cabin. Beer, African beer, wine, and lime juice were all offered. To Gabe’s surprise, most chose the African beer.

  “Gentlemen, our scouting party has returned. I’m sure most of you witnessed Bridges’ coaster when she returned to port. The reason I’ve…asked you here,” Gabe said, choosing his words carefully, still not comfortable being in overall command of the squadron. Pausing he started again, “The reason I’ve asked you here, gentlemen, is that we have a problem.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  A fine sight, is it not, Captain?”

  “Aye, my Lord. Even a single ship under full sail is something to behold, but an entire squadron is even more so. It’s…magnificent.”

  “You are right, Captain.”

  The squadron was indeed looking magnificent. The wind was from the west-southwest, making it almost dead astern. The last check of the log showed eleven knots. It was probable that with a few hours at this speed they’d reach Madagascar a half-day sooner than expected.

  The squadron had sailed from False Bay on a southerly course. Gabe doubted anyone in Simon’s Town much cared, but you never knew who the Danes had watching from one of the cliffs along the cape peninsula. Dagan and Gabe had talked at length as to whether Bridges’ man, the captain of the coaster, was trustworthy.

  “He did nothing to make me suspicious,” Dagan had said, but still the man was ashore without Dagan being present on several occasions. “My concerns are not with the privateers, Gabe. They are no match for the squadron. It’s the damnable French that have me concerned.”

  “Aye,” Gabe answered.

  The French were definitely the major source of concern. Lord Skalla had been given reliable information that the French were putting together a fleet under the command of Admiral Pierre-André de Suffren. It was expected he would sail to Ile de France, which was a major French port in the Indian Ocean. Lord Skalla told Gabe that Bridges had informed him that French diplomats had been visiting Cape Town. It was very probable that the Danes would side with the French and Americans, thereby virtually ending all trade in the Indian Ocean.

  Ile de France was east of Madagascar. Were the French ships that Dagan, Thorpe, and Harper had seen en route back to Ile de France? Were they part of Suffren’s fleet or another squadron sailing under a commodore with a different assignment? So many ifs. However, they must sail on. The mission had not changed. Would he fight, Gabe wondered. What if the French had an entire squadron in addition to the big eighty-gun man of war? The British squadron would have no chance against such a force, but would he give battle? There was only one answer. One damnable answer…yes.

  No wonder Dagan had been so down, so demoralized. Would any of them survive such a one-sided battle? Gabe had talked privately with Lord Skalla and, holding nothing back, he had stressed the battle Lord Skalla had witnessed with Jepson in his fight with the corvette would be nothing in comparison to what they had in store if the French were there in force.

  Lord Skalla thanked Gabe for being forthright but had said, using Gabe’s title, “Sir Gabe, the mission was of my doing. I’ve put you in harm’s way. I will see you through it. It may be to death or to glory we steer, but either way we will do it together.”

  The two shook hands, and then Lord Skalla went ashore to collect a few belongings he’d left at Bridges’ house. No doubt he had a few letters to write as well.

  The group sat around the table in Gabe’s cabin: Lord Skalla, Dagan, Lieutenant Campbell, Lieutenant Holton, and the master Mr. Hayes, Dr. Cornish, and two midshipmen, Mr. Michael and Mr. Sebastian. The meal had been one of Nesbit’s finest. The dessert was so good, the young gentlemen didn’t hesitate to take seconds. The conversation was light, no one wishing to bring up the impending battle.

  With a knock on the door the sentry announced, “Mr. Mark, sir, midshipman of the watch.” Hawks was the lieutenant on duty. If he sent the midshipman down, there was a good reason. Mark looked at the crumbs on the dessert plates, envy in his eyes, sure he’d hear about it later.

  “Addressing the captain,” he reported smartly. “Mr. Hawks’ compliments, sir, but the barometer is falling and he can see lightning on the horizon. He thinks we are in for a blow.”

  “Well, damme!” Gabe exclaimed. “What else can we expect? Tell Mr. Hawks I will be there directly.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  As soon as Mark left, the master scraped back his chair and said, “With your permission I will go on deck.”

  “I will join Mr. Hayes if you don’t mind, Captain,” Lieutenant Campbell said.

  “Very well, Mr. Campbell, I will be up directly.”

  Hearing this, Cornish finished his wine in a gulp and said, “Shoo, shoo, you young gentlemen. Duty calls our captain.”

  When everyone had left, Dagan said, “We’ll see the sun.” That was the second time in a few days span that he had uttered the same words.

  Relieved, Gabe finished his glass and then went topside.

  “I didn’t want to warn you unnecessarily, Captain, but that’s quite a display on the horizon; like a Chinese fireworks show.”

  Indeed, bolts of lightning could be seen on the distant horizon. After several bolts zigzagged across the sky, the whole horizon would light up like someone had set off a flare.

  “Never regret calling me, Mr. Hawks,” Gabe said, clapping his lieutenant on the back. “I’d rather know of possible danger sooner than later. Besides, I’d think something amiss if you didn’t call me to share in witnessing such a display of nature.”

  “Thank you, Captain. Mr. Campbell and Mr. Hayes said much the same.”

  Hayes walked over and said, “The barometer is at twenty-nine. We are in for a squall, I’m thinking.”

  “It seems the Almighty is in league with the Frogs,” Gabe said jokingly. “All we have had from the start is one blow after another.” Turning to the master, he added, “Put two of your best helmsmen at the wheel, Mr. Hayes. We have too much at stake to perform poorly and succumb to the elements.”

  Soon there was thunder and rain along with the lightning, hour after hour of a driving rain. The winds were brisk, with the sea breaking over the starboard bow. Campbell, without waiting to be ordered, had lifelines rigged. The crescendo of wind through the riggings picked up until there was a constant whistle.

  Men sat silent in their messes…waiting. All of them had stories where ships caught up in a desperate storm suddenly vanished. Would that be their fate?

  The wind changed just before dawn, dropping from a full blow to a few gusts and then to a slight breeze. The rain slowed to a mild shower and then as the sun came up, it stopped altogether. The lookout called down that all the ships in the squadron were on station.

  As the sun rose further and men were dismissed from quarters, the sky lit up a brilliant new day. The whole stretch of sea was clear as far as one could see to the horizon.

  At breakfast, Dagan blew at his cup of hot coffee. “A beautiful sunrise, was it not?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Land ho!” Yonder lay their foe, their destiny. To larboard Madagascar, to starboard St. Mary’s, or as Dagan called it, Ile Ste.-Marie.

  “Do you think the rascals will be up, Mr. Campbell?”

  “I’m not sure, Captain.”

  “If
they’re like you, they aren’t,” Dagan chimed in, smiling.

  It had been decided that Trident would enter the harbour first, passing Ilot Madame on the wider passage, while Stag passed through the narrow of the two passages with Venus and Brilliant following. The three smaller ships would not join in the attack.

  Jenkins was to take Zebra to the northern tip of the island to prevent any of the smaller ships from escaping and to keep a weather eye out for the French. Thorn would keep watch to the south. Fortune would heave-to off Ilot Madame and be ready to send boats or aid where needed.

  Campbell called up to the lookout, “Do you see anything?”

  “Not a sail on the horizon, sir.”

  “Damme man, the island, the blasted island. Do you see anything of the island?”

  Not waiting for a reply, Campbell called to Midshipman Caed, “Take my glass and up you go.”

  The ships had closed to between three and four miles when Caed called down. “Smoke from both the big and little islands, sir. Otherwise, there is no other movement about the island or the bay.”

  A fresh breeze blew against Gabe’s shirt. Hex was there with his weapons, so Gabe lifted his arms slightly and whispered to his cox’n. “Have a care, Jake.”

  “Aye, Captain. I’ll be by you.”

  “That’s not what I said,” Gabe snorted, receiving a smile from Hex.

  “The crew might feel better with a word from you, Captain,” Campbell said in a quiet voice.

  Gabe had already gone around the ship speaking to the men. They had been at quarters since breakfast. The ship was in every way as ready for battle as could be. Taking a trumpet, Gabe addressed the men, “Our first lieutenant has asked if I might like to give you men a few words. What you’d like, I’m thinking, is a double measure of grog and a bit of prize money.” This brought a cheer, as Gabe knew it would. “I promise you all the double measure after the villains yonder are put to rights, and if any prize money is to be had we’ll share in it as well.”

  “Huzza, huzza the captain, huzza Sir Gabe,” cried the men

  “That was well said, Captain.”

  Turning, Gabe found Lord Skalla there in formal dress with his sword on and two pistols in his sash.

  “Be sure to walk about, Lord Skalla,” Hex volunteered. “Otherwise, you’ll likely be taken as a ship’s officer and used as a target by the rebels.” This brought several laughs.

  ***

  The ships were almost to Ilot Madame when a bugle blared from somewhere on the island. Campbell had a man in the chains, and the sounds of the bugle drowned out his calls.

  From overhead, Caed called down in an excited voice, “Warship, sir, a French warship inside the bay.”

  “Damn,” Gabe shouted. It was too late now, they were committed. “Mr. Sebastian,” he called to the signals midshipman. “Make signal, ‘enemy in sight’.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  That had been the planned signal if warships were in harbour. Mr. Hawks and Mr. Laqua were on the gun decks with Midshipmen Brayden and Michael at their sides. The gun crews were stripped down to the waist with rags tied over their ears.

  “Mr. Hawks, concentrate the forward guns on the island’s defenses. Save the rest and the other deck for the Frenchie.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “Mr. Campbell…reduce to fighting sail, if you please.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  From overhead, Caed called down again, “’Pears to be an eighty-gun ship, Captain.”

  Was this a setup? Gabe wondered. Was Bridges’ man a turncoat?

  Slowly, Trident approached the mouth of the channel. Seconds felt like hours to the men as they watched and waited.

  BOOM!..BOOM!...BOOM… Cannon fire from the defenses on the small island. Gabe felt Trident shudder as the balls slammed into the hull but he could see no damage.

  “Make a note,” Gabe ordered. “Fired on by the enemy.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Following his captain’s orders the forward cannons fired at the flashes from the shore as the ship’s guns came to bear.

  “That ought to wake the Frogs,” Campbell shouted.

  “Indeed, sir,” Gabe replied. “Let’s hope they are still breaking their fast and were not at quarters.”

  “Deck thar,” Caed was calling down again. “Corvette to larboard, sir, looks like she is slipping her cable.”

  “Mr. Thomas,” Gabe called to the midshipman. “My compliments to Mr. Renfrow. Have him concentrate the bow chasers on yonder ship. I don’t want the brigs to have to deal with it unless we fail.”

  “We’ll not fail you, Captain,” Thomas promised as he ran to pass the captain’s orders on to the gunner.

  The French warship was firing her guns now but few could bear.

  “Two points to larboard, Mr. Hayes.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “Mr. Mark, go tell Mr. Laqua and Mr. Hawks to fire the starboard guns as we pass, and then prepare to fire the larboard guns once we come about.”

  “Aye, sir,” the midshipman said as he ran to do as ordered.

  “Harbour is full of ships,” Dagan swore. “Far more than would be expected.”

  Down on the gun decks, the lieutenants were talking to the gun crews. “Pick your targets men, and then fire as you bear. Gun captain, keep your wits and keep the gun firing. It promises to be a hot day, but remember the captain has promised a double tot.”

  All the guns were double-shotted and the upper deck guns had a measure of grape as well. As Trident swung, gun after gun fired, belching orange flames of death. Gabe saw Trident’s balls slamming home against the big French warship. Broadside to broadside the ships’ cannons roared. Almost the entire starboard rail was gone on Trident as the French balls returned the same death and destruction as the British balls.

  “The frigates will never hold up under such,” Campbell shouted to be heard.

  “Not a lot can be done about that now,” Gabe replied, the smoke from the broadsides making him cough.

  The plan had been for the frigates to concentrate on the privateers if the French were there and Trident would deal with the French. But nobody had bargained for an eighty-gun ship when the mission was assigned. Stag had now passed through the narrow passage. Trident sheltered her from the Frenchman but Venus would be behind her and have no protection.

  Trident’s guns continued to fire until they passed the French ship and prepared to come about. Now Stag was firing into the anchored privateers.

  “Mr. Sebastian, signal Venus to luff until we come about. Possibly, we can offer her a bit of protection if we can come between her and the Frenchman. Mr. Hayes, prepare to come about.”

  “Aye, Captain, but we’ve not got the best wind.”

  Gabe either didn’t hear or chose to ignore the advice. Either way he had little choice. “Helms a-lee,” he ordered.

  Trident came up into the wind. The big ship was momentarily in stays and Gabe questioned himself. Have I misjudged it?

  The helmsman was holding the wheel, and then after what seemed like an eternity, she began to answer.

  “Mainsail haul.” The men hurriedly went about their task, knowing their lives depended on it. ’Round the bow came until her sails filled.

  A sigh of relief came from the master, “I was about to say, Captain, this ain’t no frigate but damned if you don’t sail her like one.”

  Looking about, Gabe felt his body tremble. Dead and wounded men were scattered across the deck. It suddenly dawned on him that the repetitive splash he heard was dead bodies being cast over the side. Wright had his loblolly boys working among the downed men. Some were receiving attention where they lay while others were being taken below to the surgeon.

  Cries of pain, anguish, and fear could be heard as the men were treated. Looking beyond the men, the deck was in shambles. Guns were overturned and dismounted, bloodstains spotted the deck but Trident could still fight.

  “Ready, Mr. Hawks, Mr. Laqua?” The latter had
a bandage on his arm.

  “Aye,” they said in unison.

  “Captain?” It was Mr. Thomas.

  “Yes.”

  “Mr. Holton believes the big Frenchie is slipping her cable, sir.”

  Trident was almost in position to fire into their foe again. Yes, he could see the bow swinging toward the shore. Had a lucky shot parted her anchor cables? Was the Frenchman trying to get underway? If so, he’d slipped the wrong cable first. The privateers also had activity as ships were trying to get underway.

  “Stag needs help,” Campbell volunteered.

  “She’ll have to wait,” Gabe responded. “One broadside and Venus will never sail again.”

  “Frenchie’s firing,” someone shouted from forward.

  Again, they’d fired too early, before all the guns could bear, but damage was inflicted nevertheless.

  “The jib boom is dangling, Captain. She’ll not take much.”

  “Once we pass the Frenchman, do what you can,” Gabe ordered the bosun.

  “As you bear, fire.”

  Gabe heard Hawks calling to his men. In steady succession, gun after gun fired until the entire broadside had been delivered, a deliberate fire that caused a cheer to go up as when the smoke cleared and the gunners could see the results of their gunnery. The mizzenmast was down, gaping holes were now seen where gun ports had been, but the French continued to return fire. Venus took advantage of Trident’s position and sailed past without fear of the French warship. She was now well on her way to aid Stag.

  “We can’t stand another broadside like the last one, Captain.” This came from the carpenter, Mr. Bufford. “We got two feet in the well and more coming. We have stove in planks everywhere. Likely need to fother a sail soon.”

  Gabe looked across at the French’s ship. Her flag had been run up the mainmast now that the mizzen mast was down. Her position seemed changed…she was…yes by all that was holy, her bow had swung around until it was facing the shore and the stern was facing them.

  “Mr. Campbell, have the Lieutenant Turner put together a party to help Mr. Bufford while we make another pass.”