"I see," Lewrie softened, seeing what sense Lightbourne was endeavoring to give him. "Thankee, Mister Lightbourne, I'll take a round turn and two half hitches. Look before I leap, then. And that's a trial best tested later. For now, I'll be satisfied with running the rest of this gang to earth. No way I suppose those in custody'd talk to us? Tell us where the rest may be found?"
"This lot're practiced sinners, Captain Lewrie," Lightbourne shrugged resignedly. "Honour among thieves ... some freebooters' code of silence ... the black spot and all that. They'd rather swing game on the gallows and be infamous for a few days. No hope of that."
"Then it'll take combing these islands," Lewrie vowed. "But comb 'em I will. However long it takes."
Chapter 4
"Make 'Captain Repair On Board,' Mister Mayhew," Lewrie ordered as Alacrity ranged up to within half a cable of the wayward Navy cutter Aemilia. They had spent a whole day and night seeking her, first in Hawk's Nest Harbour on Turks Island, Long Bay and Balfour Town on Salt Cay, and had finally discovered her cruising south of Big Sand Cay in the Lower Turks Passage.
The young officer who came through Alacrity's starboard entry port came most unwillingly, having dressed hurriedly and still had a blotch or two of shaving soap behind his ears, a fresh tea stain on his shirt front, and acted very put out and sulky.
"Courtney Coltrop," the officer said before Alan could open his mouth, his demeanor on the ragged edge of open insubordination. "I was not informed another ship was in my area, sir."
"Alan Lewrie, Mister Coltrop," Lewrie said, taking an intense dislike to him at once, and spurning the honorific of "captain" which he merited. "You're a hard man to find, sir."
"I do not maintain a set patrol, sir," Coltrop almost sneered, "so I may spread confusion among our King's enemies the better."
"Pirates and smugglers, aye," Lewrie glared. "Such as the Yankee trader in South Caicos harbor yesterday, which you did not find on your irregular patrol. Nor the pirates off West Caicos the other day. Ever patrol as far as that, do you?"
"The bulk of the trade is here in the Turks, sir," Coltrop said, waving an arm about the empty straits. "And I am one small cutter with a huge area to cover. Here now, what's the date of your commission?" he demanded, irked at the preemptory questions.
"February of '82," Lewrie snapped. "Yours? As if it matters."
"March of '83, sir," Coltrop reddened, realizing that he was junior at last, and should begin to show proper courtesy. Though it was a mystery to Lewrie that the lout would not automatically assume the deference due a captain of a warship larger than his tiny sixty-foot cutter. Alan put it down to insufferable, overweening pride, or impeccable connections and patronage; some powerful "sea daddy."
"Mister Coltrop, you were unaware that a substantial band of pirates were active in the Caicos? There was no rumour of an action off West Caicos three days ago, sir? No hint of past depredations?"
"No, sir," Coltrop grunted, considering the consequences.
"If you would be so kind as to join me in my chart-space, sir, I will discover the matter to you," Lewrie smiled benignly, "and use your knowledge of these waters so we may hunt the others."
They repaired below to Alan's quarters; Lewrie, the truculent Coltrop, sailing master Fellows and James Gatacre. Lewrie sketched out the area where the action had occurred with a pair of dividers.
"... picked up our boats here, and searched the foreshore for them," he said, laying the dividers aside at last. "There was some sort of temporary camp, but no arms or stores. Palmetto leantos or shacks. Empty and abandoned. They had nothing to return for. But I believe they have some lair in the Caicos still."
"That don't follow, sir," Coltrop told him, screwing his face into a moue of disagreement "They're freebooters. Live wild like so many bloody gypsies! More than like, they came up from Tortuga, off Hispaniola. Maybe over from Spanish Florida or Cuba, with all their goods in their boats. You scared the bejesus out of 'em, so they crossed through one of these passes after dark to scuttle off to safer waters. They're probably drunk as lords in some hurricane hole this very instant. Just came over for the odd raid or two."
"One or two luggers I deem a raid, sir," Lewrie smiled. "But five boats, with about eighty or ninety men between them, would need a shore base where they might store their ill-gotten gains. One or two boatloads could take one ship of the summer trade, at best, but five seems enough to raid all summer, and they had to have a place to cook, to sleep, to keep lookout for inward-bound ships."
"Well, one would suppose, sir," Coltrop sighed as though he were bored. "But, given me hurt you allege you dealt 'em, I'd put my guineas on their being long gone from the Caicos by now."
"A fatal assumption for the next ship taken, if such assumption is wrong," Lewrie snorted. "They've two swift luggers still, and could take at least one more vessel, so they have some profit torepay their pains. And I doubt if determined and ruthless men know when to quit. For revenge, if nothing else."
"Conversely, Lieutenant Coltrop," John Fellows said, raising his gingery eyebrows, as was his wont when he got excited, "what if there were ships already taken? They must have stowed that plunder somewhere in the Caicos, and they'd not sail away without it An even more compelling argument for them remaining. I wonder if you are aware of other ships that may be missing, sir?"
"Lord!" Coltrop gaped in mock wonder. "How would I know? With absolutely no method of determining how many ships set sail for the Turks to begin with, the when or the wherefrom?"
"You've heard no talk among the arriving masters? No rumours of 'what happened to Old So-And-So'?" Lewrie pressed.
"It is not within my duties to question arriving masters, or to. deal with them except as to whether they abide by the law, sir."
"Yet in pursuing your duties of enforcing the Navigation Acts, in boarding and documenting arriving ships' manifests," Lewrie cooed, trying hard to rein in his growing anger, "in determining whether a vessel is allowed to enter British ports you have absolutely no converse with their captains and mates, sir? Is that what you are telling us, sir?"
"I have heard no gossip, no complaints, no speculations about missing vessels, sir," Coltrop replied stiffly, haughtily.
"Very well, then, Mister Coltrop," Lewrie said after a deep breath and a long sigh of frustration. "Let's proceed along another tack. Mister Fellows my sailing master, and Mister Gatacre, who now directs my ship's activities as her supercargo from the Admiralty," Lewrie said, inflating Gatacre's status without having to tell a baldfaced lie, or be specific, "deem that our pirates need a place where there is a tall headland. They need a reliable well or stream for water. Shelter from seaward to hide their boats, and what prey they take so they may loot 'em at their leisure. Shoal-waters wide enough to prevent pursuit by a warship or gunfire closer than random shot And easy access to the Caicos Banks so they may flee if their lair is found. Not too close to Fort George Cay up north, nor close to Turks Passage, where you patrol. That means they must be based either to the west of the Bank, or somewhere along the northern side of North, Middle, or East Caicos Island. Now, just where, assuming our suppositions about their needs are correct, in your experience in these waters, would you believe the most likely hideout to be?"
Coltrop leaned over the chart, hat under one arm and elbows tucked in close to his sides as if he wished to avoid touching it, or getting in any way involved. He blew out a breath, puffing his cheeks in perplexity.
"Lord, sir," he said at last with a hopeless smile. " 'Fraid I haven't a clue! Sorry. Know the Turks Passage and all, d'you see, but..."
"Good Christ!" Gatacre exploded. "You're about as useless as teats on a man! How long you been in these waters, puppy?"
"Year and a bit, sir, I..." Coltrop shuddered, too scared of Gatacre's uncertain amount of seniority to continue his smug bluster. Gatacre wore navy blue, but it was a civilian suit, more apt on some merchant master, but for a military cocked hat big as a watermelon. The buttons were plain pewter, though, so what was he if
not some civilian official from the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, a secretary who'd report back about Lieutenant Coltrop and tell them... Lord!
"And you've leashed yourself to the Turks Passage?" Gatacre went on indignantly. "Never explored the Caicos? Or are they too far from your bottle'r your table? The brothels that good in the Salt Isles, are they, sir?"
"Sir, I... !"
"Ever been down to the Ambergris Cays? As far north as Drum Point on East Caicos? Took a peek into Windward-Going-Through, have you?" Gatacre sneered. "God, I've never heard of a Sea Officer with an active commission so unaspiring, nor so unambitious!"
"I have been to Fort George Cay, sir, to deliver supplies as needed, sir," Coltrop quavered out "I have put into the Ambergris Cays when the whales run, sir. But this is the wrong season. There's no one there now! The whalers won't be back ..."
"A fine place for pirates, then," Lewrie commented. "An empty whaling station. Deep water for their ships. Huts for shelter, try-pots and fuel for cooking in place. Water. A tall headland or two. That's where we'll search first. Alacrity to Big Ambergris, and your cutter to Little Ambergris, where the depth is too shoal. What does your cutter draw, Mister Coltrop?"
"Its ... seven feet, sir. But, sir, if there are pirates, then surely my place is in Turks Passage to defend. To accompany you, I must leave shipping open to God knows what."
"By whom, Mister Coltrop?" Lewrie fumed. "Tripolitan galleys? Levant corsairs? There's one band of pirates we know of, and if we put pressure on them with our search, we halt their activities. Did you not tell me your patrols are irregularly timed, so you may, how did you put it, 'sow confusion and doubt'? Well then, let's go sow some doubt and confusion! And capture ourselves some pirates."
"Sir, I ..." Coltrop began to protest, then swallowed his outburst. "Of course, sir. I am certain the Aemilia will be of inestimable assistance to you, sir." Coltrop turned suddenly sweet, and got his pride of old back a bit too quickly for Lewrie's taste. "Do you know she is named for our commodore's daughter, sir? In her honour?"
So that's who his powerful "sea daddy" is, Lewrie thought as he studied Coltrop's regained smugness with distaste!
"Commodore Garvey will be most pleased that she will figure in your... uhm, adventure, Captain Lewrie," Coltrop grinned.
"Then you'd better take care she doesn't trip on a shoal and wet herself, mustn't you, Mister Coltrop?" Lewrie smiled back at him. "Go board your Aemilia and set course for Little Ambergris while we still have some light. And mind your soundings."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Poxy bastard!" Gatacre grumbled once he was gone. "I've never seen such a worthless, idle ..."
"A well-connected bastard, though," Lewrie grunted. "I can't wait to read his report on the action. Damme, Mister Gatacre, if we don't find these pirates, if they take a ship under our noses, he'll have my nutmegs on a silver tray!"
"Best do what all the good captains do, then, sir," Gatacre chuckled as they walked forward to go on deck. "Plaster a confident grin on yer phiz an' dare anybody to gainsay ya!"
Chapter 5
Of course, nothing went that easily. There were signs of recent human habitation on Big Ambergris, much like the abandoned camp on West Caicos. Their suppositions the pirates were still around were fulfilled, but just where they had gone remained a mystery.
For another week, Alacrity and Aemilia prowled in company, back up Turks Passage toward Drum Point on East Caicos, along the spectacular coral reefs by Lorimers Point and Joe Grant's Cay, which sheltered the mouth of the Windward-Going-Through channel between East and Middle Caicos Islands. The bluffs were high enough behind the reefs to provide excellent watch-posts. When they went ashore in luggers and ship's boats they found sources of water. There were deeps very close inshore where looted ships could be scuttled to avoid detection. But no pirate band.
Lewrie was getting extremely frustrated. It was not the sneer on Lieutenant Coltrop's face which upset him, though that irked him every time he had reason to talk with him. He realized he had made the pirates, and their destruction, a personal quest. There was Commodore Garvey to please, to impress with what he could accomplish. And capturing or destroying these buccaneers would be a way to expunge the chagrin he felt about his bargain with the American Captain Grant, turning a blind eye to his violation of the Navigation Acts. And, in that first flush of exultation he'd shown to his crew after sinking those luggers, he'd overstepped himself and promised they would get the rest. Now, if he did not, he felt the men would lose confidence in his abilities, and his captaincy of Alacrity would become a drudgery instead of a delight.
Being someone else's junior officer felt so damned good, Alan told himself in the echoing privacy of his cabins aft. Without Caroline aboard, he was severely limited now in whom he could confide. Oh, he could dine in bags of people and share jests with them as the most genial of hosts. But it wasn't the same as being able to unburden his cares and worries on someone else.
But then, that's why they pay me five grand shillings a day!
"Sir!" Lieutenant Ballard said, coming to Alan's seat on the taffrail signal-flag lockers. "Aemilia has put about and is bearing down on us."
Lewrie rose and made his way forward. It had just gone five bells of the second dog-watch, Evening Quarters had been stood, and the hands had eaten and were now entertaining themselves in the cool afterglow of sunset. Mr. Midshipman Shipley and his mostly hapless colleague, Mr. Midshipman Joyce, were doinghornpipes in the waist for the amusement of the people forrud, part of the larboard watch's price as losers at drills that afternoon.
"Was he not to peek into Highas Cay and Bottle Creek, sir?" Ballard inquired. "Perhaps he's seen something at last."
Lewrie snapped a quick look at Ballard to see if his "at last" was a subtle condemnation, but Ballard had a telescope to his eye and was intent upon the ghostly shape of Aemilia as she sailed back east to join them.
"He was, Mister Ballard. As you say, perhaps this hopeless search of ours will be rewarded... at last," Lewrie could not help rejoining.
"They're somewhere out here still, sir," Ballard said quickly. "I know you're correct about that. It's just the 'where,' or how long they might remain if they fear a new, more active warship is stationed in the Turks and Caicos. I'd hate for them to run before we nab 'em."
"Thankee, Mister Ballard," Lewrie relented with a shy grin. "I was beginning to fear I was the only one who wished to continue this chasing of wild geese. Chasing shadows, more like."
"Most deadly shadows, sir," Ballard intoned with a sober nod, but with a quirky little grin of his own. "Should Lieutenant Col-trop be the bearer of glad tidings, do you wish the taffrail lanterns lit, sir? Or should we proceed darkened?"
"There's a ninety-foot-tall bluff at the extreme west end of Middle Caicos, just by Highas Cay," Lewrie pondered. "Do not give a possible watcher anything to bite on. And alter course to seaward. If Aemilia has news for us, he'll come to us out there. I only wish there was a way to signal him without a fuzee to stay dark, himself."
"Here, sir!" Coltrop jabbed exultantly at the chart. "Just under the headland overlooking Highas Cay and the narrow channel between Middle and North Caicos. There were cook fires! I saw the smoke, sir!"
"Did you stand close inshore?" Lewrie asked, unable to hide his mounting excitement. "Did you see a camp?"
"Didn't want to blow the gaff, sir," Coltrop laughed, for once almost pleasant to be around. "I stood north for a time, as if to go to seaward of North Caicos, then doubled back. But as far as I know, there should be no one there. A few farms so far on North Caicos, a fish camp or two... but none on Middle Caicos yet."
"What do they call this area, Mister Gatacre?" Lewrie asked.
"Conch Bar, sir," Gatacre replied. "There's rumoured to be some caves there that Indians used in Columbus' time. 'Tis a barren place now, though."
"Watered, though," Fellows insisted. "And where you find water, you'll find our pirates. Look, sir, it's perfect! Bluffs to
spy from, just as we deduced. Deep water, about an hundred fathoms, close up to the reefs and shoals. An inlet between Highas Cay and Conch Bar Bluff where ships may moor. An escape run down this salt-creek between North and Middle islands to the Banks. And their main camp would most likely be about a mile in from the shoal-water line, out of range of random shot."
"Depth, though, Mister Fellows," Lewrie implored.
"Unsurveyed, sir," Fellows had to admit, deflating. "A fathom, maybe less, once inside Highas Cay."
"And it may be a fish camp, after all," Lewrie fretted out loud. "But, then again ... we must examine it If their main camp is inland, about a mile or better, that would put them ... here ... down by this last point, opposite the second islet past Highas Cay. They see us coming, they run through this passage for the Banks where we cannot follow. To prevent that, we must use all the ship's boats and our surveying luggers, and land a party between them and the escape route. Cross the shoals above Bottle Creek, wend our way under the shoreline into that channel, to... here. At dawn, Alacrity must be just without the shoals to cover Highas Cay and deliver unaimed fire on this inner point as a diversion. And to flush them out, if they get the wind up. Mister Coltrop, I want Aemilia inshore even further. Make the best of your way across the shoals with your seven-foot draught nor'west of the inner point of land, to block any possible escape up Bottle Creek and out to sea off North Caicos. And scour the beach under the bluffs with your four-pounders."
"Good God, sir, I'll rip her bottom out, sure!" Coltrop gasped.
"Close as you may, without holing yourself. Make a demonstration. Frighten them into running straight at me," Lewrie decided.
"You, sir?" Fellows goggled. "Sir, it's... well, it's been the traditional thing for the first officer to..."
"It's the riskiest part of our venture," Lewrie countered. "If they're not pirates, I wish to be the one nearest on the scene to call it off. And if they are, I've more experience with landfighting."
The Gun Ketch Page 17