Pirates of Savannah: The Complete Trilogy - Colonial Historical Fiction Action Adventure (Pirates of Savannah (Adult Version))

by Tarrin P. Lupo

  Captain Gibbons finally came to life in an authoritative role, usurping that of the quartermaster’s. Until now, Mr. Mandrik was in charge of all the ship’s daily activities, but when danger was abound, the captain ran everything with supreme, authoritative power. Captain Gibbons barked a stream of orders and the crew quickly fell into a sort of organized chaos. The rigger men were quickly dancing high in the masts as the sailors wrestled with line and tacking, trying desperately to get full sail.

  Mr. McLain shouted at Patrick to get under deck and prepare. Patrick froze and McLain saw the fear in his wide eyes. "Get a hold of yourself, man! Focus on your duties. We'll be fine." Patrick nodded and rushed below deck with Mr. McLain.

  While rushing along below deck, the master carpenter/surgeon hastily explained what was expected of Patrick. "You'll heat this tar and oakum and be ready to patch holes. The rest of the crew not fighting or sailing will be helping you peg down spare planks and bail water. After the fighting be over, the real fun begins and we'll start treating the dying."

  Patrick knew he should be paying close attention to McLain's words, but horrible visions of his head hanging off the mystery sloop’s bowsprit kept invading his mind.

  Back topside, the sun was quickly being swallowed by the sea and it was becoming hard to make out the pursuing ship in the long shadows on the water. Captain Gibbons yelled to Mr. Mandrik, “Darken the ship and make haste! All lights are to be extinguished immediately and no sailor will talk over the level of a hummingbird or I will have his tongue.”

  “Aye, Cap’n," the quartermaster confirmed his orders. "I will blacken dis ship like night fall, sir.”

  The moon was now half waxed and with good eyes, one could make out the dark shadow of a ship against the shimmering blue reflections of the moonlight. Even with his spyglass, the captain could not make out the style of the rigging to determine its weaknesses. Captain Gibbons attempted hard turns and angles to lose the pursuing ship in the darkness. The Robin desperately zigzagged for hours in hopes the pursuing ship would be lost in the darkness. The deck crew worked silently, only occasionally speaking in hushed tones, as they wrestled with keeping the sails full. Every so often, a stream of Irish accented obscenities would drift down from the riggings cracking the silence. Shamus did not seem to understand the concept of a hushed voice and the sounds of cursing would carry across the black water. Barely keeping his temper, Mr. Mandrik reminded the Irish fool to control himself or his tongue would be nailed the mast.

  Two hours after sunset the Robin was rewarded with a bit of luck as a bellow of clouds rolled in covering the moon and starlight. The overcast blessedly lasted until sunrise. The deck crew was drenched with sweat as they responded to the captain's every order. The captain took the Robin hard off course in the hopes that it would be lost to the pursuing ship’s sight come morning. The approaching vessel had also darkened herself and was lost to the black of the night. Both ships would have to wait till sunrise to see the results of this seafaring chess battle of strategy.

  The Robin’s crew waited in paralyzing fear as the sun slowly overtook the water. The first ray finally caught the water and in minutes lit up the sky. The captain and the crow’s nest lookout were shouting back and forth to each other. The lookout now was very sick and had vomited bile all night into the barrel he was standing in. The sea’s sickening motion was strongly amplified in the crow's nest and very few sailors could take more than a few minutes let alone an entire night's watch. The crow's nest was commonly employed as a punishment device by Mr. Mandrik for disobedient sailors. The lookout, sickly and green, shouted weakly, “Captain Gibbons, I can’t find her anywhere. I think you sigoogled her.” Indeed, the captain did outflank the mystery ship and could not find her on the horizon.

  A great shout of joy went through the crew, but the captain sternly warned them, “Stay focused, gentleman, and stay on course.”

  Captain Gibbons then ordered the sailing master to join him on the poop deck. On the highest deck on the ship, the sailing master pulled out an antique astrolabe, held it up into the sun and stared. He then turned his back to the sun and held up a Davis backstaff determining the altitude of the sun. Then the practically blind man pulled out his old quadrant and determined the Robin's longitude by staring directly into the sun with it. With extreme caution, the sailing master gingerly removed the sextant from its protective case. The sailing master knew it was the most valuable item on the ship and if ever dropped, the sextant would be ruined and he would be punished harshly. Because of this, he always attached his sextant to a make-shift lanyard around his neck for safety.

  “How far off course are we now?" Captain Gibbons questioned, "How many days did I just add on to our journey?”

  As with almost all sailing masters, his eyes were filled with white, cloudy fluid and could barely see in daylight. He held aloft the sextant and sighted the sun and horizon. He looked through the telescope and dropped the shade glass in place as he stared directly into the sun. He knew his eyes would burn and itch hours later for this daytime reading, but he also knew the captain needed it quickly. He would have preferred to wait till the night, relying on the stars for better accuracy, but the grave circumstances demanded a day reading. The sailing master then took a reading with a sundial and compass. He then did a dance, consulting his charts and instruments repeatedly. Never trusting just one instrument, he utilized a combination of old and new navigation technology.

  After a few minutes of studying, he looked at the captain with his cloudy, white eyes and reported calmly, “Captain, we be about three days off course now, but I think I can plot a new course across open waters to catch some of the time up.”

  “Very good, sir,” Captain Gibbons barked. "Get to plotting!" The Captain knew how risky to chart straight across the open ocean rather than island and coast hop, but he feared pirates more than storms right now.

  The crew settled into an uneasy state of alert with all eyes continuously fixed on the horizon. The captain finally relieved the seasick lookout and gave him time to sleep and slowly, the crew returned to their normal watches. With no sight of the pursuing ship to be seen, Captain Gibbon’s knew if he could just get a few more days out to open waters, the Robin would be safe.

  They followed the sailing master's course throughout the day and the seas became choppy. As the sun began to set, the seas became even more uneasy and the sky filled with menacing gray clouds. Angry winds filled the sails and started bending the masts sideways until a steady rhythm of rocking was established.

  Patrick was woken up by the surgeon’s chest violently sliding into his hammock. The hammock was swinging wildly and Patrick abandoned it as fast as he could. The scarred man was unnerved as heavy items shuffled across the floor while the ship careened. He had taken to sea life fairly well but had not yet earned his sea legs. Until now, he had only felt mildly uncomfortable by the rocking of the sea, but now he was rapidly getting sick. Curiosity took him up deck side to see if they were under attack.

  As he came through the hatch, he was pelted with stinging rain. The deck crews had just pulled the sails down and were tying down everything on deck. The crew screamed orders at each other through the howling wind. A sailor was moaning, like a prophet of doom, that crossing the ocean during the late spring was dangerous. Rain came down in blinding, sideways sheets and Patrick could only see a short distance around the ship. The nightfall was not helping. Against the judgment of the captain, the quartermaster was frantically dropping anchor to no avail. They were now in deep waters and the anchor would find no home.

  Patrick realized very quickly that things had just turned treacherous for the Robin. The wheel was spinning wildly as the ship rocked back and forth and started spinning in a circle. Two men grabbed the wheel in an attempt to steady her but even with their collective strength, they could not hold on. Isaac seemed to materialize out of the darkness and rain and he grabbed the spinning wheel. The three men were joined by the captain and they collectively slow
ed the out-of-control helm. A scream came from the wooden rudder but it held together. For the rest of the pitch-black night, the crew wrestled with the storm to stay afloat. The quartermaster soon realized what a horrible mistake it was to try and drop anchor and it was causing the Robin to list wildly. In less than an hour a frenzied crew managed to ratchet the anchor back in place.

  While struggling against the wheel and the angry sea, Isaac was arguing with one of the sailors when a giant wave crashed over them. When Isaac opened his eyes, the man had simply vanished. Isaac scanned the deck and found the lost man nowhere.

  "MAN OVERBOARD!" Isaac screamed as the crew began to echo the call. Men scrambled to help Isaac with the wheel, while others ran to the rail to scan the black waters. A voice desperately screaming for help could be heard from below but he could not be found in the blackness. Fortunately for the man in the drink, flashes of lighting cracked illuminating the dark waters and he was spotted off the starboard side. The crew quickly threw a rope down to the man who was fighting desperately to stay afloat. The sailors missed the throw repeatedly. He was just out of reach of the line, but then Shamus tried and threw the rope so straight that it hit the flailing man in the face. The sinking man quickly tied the wet rope under his arms and around his chest.

  A wave rose up and swallowed the man. He sank into the dark and out of sight. The Robin’s bow then swung wildly and slammed into the man. As the deck crew pulled the rope, a limp body rose out of the water. The body was unceremoniously dragged up the starboard wall and on to the deck. The saved man was groaning and his eyes could not focus. "Crewman Willis," Mandrik called out, "take dis man down and see to 'em."

  The remaining sailors frantically tied themselves to a rope which was lashed to a tall mast for safety.

  Patrick was ordered to return below deck just as they battened down the hatches. Endless screams and shuffling could be heard from above deck. Patrick tried to focus on his patient but the man passed out on the hammock and was snoring. The surgeon’s mate joined most of the crew below in rotating moments of fear and vomiting in the dark. He mustered his constitution and then took to his bilge pump duties. The night was long and frightening, and the men kept their minds off dying by bailing bucket after bucket of water that had seeped in from the heavy rain.

  * * *

  The ship was finally settling down and the hatches were opened. The sun would be rising soon but it was still raining and pitch black. The waters had finally settled and the ship was no longer rocking wildly. The constant state of fear had kept the exhausted crew up all night.

  Patrick wanted to escape the vomit smells from below so he went up topside. He saw that the dead-tired crew was still tied to the mast on long ropes as they performed their duties sluggishly.

  Finally, the clouds became patchy and a little moonlight could be seen dancing on the water. Patrick walked to the railing, stretched his arms over his head, yawned and looked out across the waters. Moonlight was slowly becoming daylight and the water illuminated quickly. Patrick’s eyes grew with fear as he saw a silhouette of a sloop become visible five hundred lengths off the larboard side. He screamed in a panicked voice, “Captain! Pirates! Larboard side!”

  The deck immediately sprang to life with activity, shouts, and bell ringing. “Battle stations!" the quartermaster commanded in his awkward slow broken Greek accent. "Be ya reedy on da cannons!”

  Captain Gibbons hurried to get the sails up on the modified galleon. The Robin had three masts with larger sails and a crow’s nest. Most private captains modified the ships to their tastes, and the Robin was no exception sporting fore and aft jib sails as well.

  The pursuing ship was easier to see now and it was more of a large coastal style sloop with one large mast and a smaller aft mast. The pirate ship was also taken off guard and was quickly raising its massive sail as well. The storm had unknowingly brought to two vessels together in the night. It would now be a footrace to see whose crew could catch the wind first.

  An exhausted Captain Gibbons immediately took the helm. He steered the ship the best he could away from the pirates, still getting full sail. The wind was helping the Robin but unfortunately, was also giving an advantage to the mystery vessel. Captain Gibbons still was unsure if this vessel in chase was an English privateer, so he ordered his true colors to be flown. The yellow jack was pulled down and replaced with the English Jack. Gibbons waited nervously as he watched the mast of the pursuing ship.

  The Captain felt his heart sink as the enemy vessel did not slow or even raise a jack.

  For a brief moment, Captain Gibbons considered giving the order to jettison all extra weight to gain speed. He realized this far out to sea, with the size of his crew, they would be dealt a slow death of starvation and thirst if their supplies were abandoned. They would have to stay and fight. It was a grim thought that made Gibbons uneasy.

  The quartermaster yelled for silence and the crew listened attentively. Faint echoes rode out across the water. The Greek listened for a minute and then muttered under his breath, "God damn it... That’s Spaniard piss dey dribbling out der mouths." He then yelled, reporting to Gibbons, "Spanish privateers, Cap'n. I will see da crew be ready for fightin'."

  Captain Gibbons did have some knowledge that gave him a little bit of an upper hand in this chess match. He knew most privateers relied on fear and not actual force. It was too costly and not wise to have holes blown into the prize you were trying to take. The captain calculated they would not shoot first; they would try to cower the Robin into surrender. The Spanish might take on his crew, but Gibbons was well aware that captured captains were usually killed or ransomed. Either way, this would not end well for his skin.

  The Spanish sloop was now quickly closing the distance. With his spyglass, the captain could see over a hundred armed men on the sloop’s deck preparing to fight. The captain knew his ship was out manned and out gunned. The Robin only had six carriage-style French garrison guns which actually worked. They were poorly retrofitted on the deck and below. The Robin's cannons rested on Vauban marine carriages so they would not fly backwards off the deck when fired. The carriages had thick mahogany cheeks and large wood-banded wheels. Captain Gibbons's plan was to bring the Spanish sloop as close as possible and cripple the sails with the Robin’s smaller cannons.

  A fake surrender would be staged to bring the Spanish close. Mandrik instructed all men above deck to raise their arms in the air as the Spanish vessel closed in tight. The ships were now turning broad side to each other as the Spanish crew could be seen preparing their grappling hooks to throw into the Robin's rigging. Captain Gibbons was putting enormous trust into his master gunner’s hands and waited for his gunner to start firing. Gibbons was making a big gamble. Only four of the Robin's cannons were in range of the Spanish sloop.

  Below deck, Isaac was loading the gunpowder in the gun tube with a ladle and watched as the other gunner’s mate loaded the 12-pound ball. A loud metal-on-metal screech pierced Isaac's ears as the ball was shoved down with the ram rod. The Master Gunner then used his gunner’s gimlet and poked it into the vent on the cannon to make it ready for the priming powder. He then broke open his dry powder bag and used his powder horn to prim the seat. He carefully loaded the priming quill, which was really a spirit-soaked wick, into the gun tube and down into the powder. The master gunner lined up the cannon, aimed it high at the Spanish sloop’s mast and took the smoldering linstock from his gunner’s mate. He moved out of the path of recoil and blew on the slow match of the linstock until it was bright orange. The master gunner turned the linstock sideways and lit the quill. Calls quietly went out under deck to light the wicks of the other cannons.

  The Robin opens fire!

  Isaac had tied rags over his ears to protect him from the deafening blast of the cannon, but still had to cover his ears with his hands. BLAMM! Even Isaac, with his hulking mass, was blown a step backwards from the violent, concussive force of the explosion. Gray smoke blinded all three men manning the gun w
hile the master gunner immediately ordered a reload. Two other explosions were heard from the belly of the Robin.

  At the sound of the first volley, Captain Gibbons turned the ship's bow hard and started to make an expedient escape. Five Spanish cannon shots rang out in return. Crewmen of the Robin screamed as they picked up the hidden weapons from the deck and began firing. A gray fog hung between the two ships.

  The Spanish privateers took two hits across the deck. One fantastic shot hit the poop deck and damaged the helm. The other shot missed the mast and just skimmed across the deck. One shot missed completely and another cannon never even fired because of damp powder. In return, the Robin took considerably more damage. One of the jib sails was ripped completely off. A hole was punched into the galley and one of the Quaker cannons on the deck was hit and had blown into the sea.

  Men were firing muskets with little luck. Both sides missed just about everything they fired at. The battle scene grew quiet as both sides focused on reloading. The Robin turned away hard and the sloop did not turn to match its movements. The Spanish vessel’s steering wheel no longer worked and they were already drifting aimlessly.

  Isaac frantically wormed and then swabbed the cannon so not to pour gunpowder down a smoldering barrel. Another gunner mate then hastily ladled powder down the barrel. Isaac then loaded the cannon with another ball and the gunners mate rammed it into place. The master gunner repeated his last ritual and readied the fuse, aimed and lit the wick. He took careful aim this time, trying to time the rise and fall of both ships. The master gunner knew this would be his last chance from this cannon before the angle of attack changed too much. All three men covered their ears, closed their eyes and prayed for a direct hit. BLAMM! A deafening crack filled the compartment and the cannon blew backwards. A loud creaking and crash could be heard from the Spanish sloop. As the smoke cleared, Isaac could see the Spanish vessel’s mast hanging a kilter and wailing in the wind. "Fantastic shot! You shivered her timbers!” the gunner's mate yelled in excitement. "Huzzah! Huzzah!" The three men cheered wildly not believing the lucky shot they landed.