“Aye, could be we have. We may have a few wives aboard now as well.”
“Two days to put her to rights. We have agreed on high tide Monday morning. Pass my compliments to Mr. MacRead. I’ll see him in my cabin. At least we’ve not been in action. He’d be busy in sick bay, not with my project.”
“Good Morning, Mr. MacRead, how are you today?” said Burton, thinking, wiry and hairy, as usual.
“Luvely, Sah. ‘Ear ‘tis,” he said with a big grin as he pulled the ‘sextant’ out of a holey sugar sack.
“Before I look at this work of art you show me, I must first thank you for your work on the signals books for our ‘fleet’. They were most satisfactory, indeed, and I am sure we will be very glad of them.”
“Aye, Sah,” said MacRead, brushing it off as nothing, though Neville thought he detected some inkling of pride at receiving a compliment from his captain. A curl at the corners of his mouth? It was hard to tell with all that hair.
“This bamboo aypiece is stook here with me own Vernice Bianca. Ay hoop et’s enna rayt play-is, boot ef nay, ay ken move et. The meers ken be toorned easy neff. Ay’ve used some silvered glass ay fooond en toon fer thet ‘filter’ as you call et. ”
“I’ll have a go with it, Mr. MacRead,” said Neville with a grin, “and I’ll let you know if it works. I give you my great thanks.”
By noon the women had all been shipped to the beach, save three who, together with their ‘husbands’, claimed to be married and petitioned their captain for approbation to remain.
Sunday church passed uneventfully, but inspections did not go well. A good number of the men were still suffering the effects of their revelry. Neville meted out a number of small penalties, mostly for sloppy appearance or improperly stowed gear. He decided that most offenders were suffering punishment enough, though none had reported for sick bay.
“Heave the anchor short, Lt. Verley,” commanded Burton. “If this breeze holds we should sail in an hour.” He could see that three of his six sloops had done the same already. Five bells chimed, and he could hear Lt. Ratshaw order the half-glass turned. The morning had passed too slowly for his taste. All had been in order. The men seemed in better cheer. He sensed an attitude of adventure amongst the entire crew, and he knew he felt it. Despite the gaiety of the week past, most seemed of a mind that a week in the stinking harbor at Port Royal under a blazing sun with little breeze was something they might now happily leave. One case had appeared in sickbay that MacRead suspected of being the ague, as well, and if that were the case, Neville wished to be away as fast as possible. Maybe MacRead could cure it with some of Fuller’s Jesuit’s bark, and they would be done with it. Neville doubted it would be that easy, but he held his hopes.
“Glass is almost out, Sir,” commented Lt. Verley as the half hour waned.
“Stand by,” commanded Neville, and Verley bellowed forward, “Stand by on the capstan. Loose the heads’l.” At this command, Midshipmen Stokes and Weller took their topmen jiggering up the shrouds to their assigned stations.
Tilburne stood near the capstan, ready to start any malingerer, though Neville knew he hoped he wouldn’t need to encourage them. He looked his part, however.
Under the headsail, the ship crept slowly up on her anchor. Six bells chimed, and Lt. Ratshaw commanded, “Turn the glass.”
“Anchor up,” Said Neville.
Lt. Verley repeated it in his booming voice, “Anchor up! Loose tops’ls!”
Mr. Greaves began his work with the landsmen on the sheets and braces.
Neville surveyed his fleet and was pleased with what he saw. The first of them was catting her anchor as he watched, with her topsail falling, and the others were raising and sheeting headsails in the order of the numbers he had assigned. The last two were still hove short, but he could see the little swarms of men at their capstans with a bare eye. “Quite a symphony, isn’t it, Lt. Ratshaw? These men know their jobs well enough. I didn’t think there would be a need for the ‘up anchor’ signal.”
He thought he could hear cheering from one of the sloops. Apparently, they were also happy to leave.
“Anchor’s aweigh,” called the foredeck lookout.
Experiment was moving slowly but steadily, but they were still within the shelter of the harbor, and had to make a turn to larboard to avoid the beach on the eastern end. The wind blew from dead aft, but after the turn, it would be on the larboard beam. Neville shuddered to remember the first time he had tried this simple maneuver. He had to admit, however, that the conditions were different then. They’d had courses, topsails and spanker all full with a much greater breeze than they had now. He would be mortified to display such ship handling in front of this fleet. They might decide to turn and leave him. Too much worrying, he decided, and ordered, “Hard to larboard, Lt. Ratshaw.”
This easy turn was picture-perfect to Neville’s eye, and Experiment leaned slightly to the pressure of a light beam-on breeze. One after the other the sloops of his little navy followed, presenting a fine nautical parade to Fort Charles.
“Fire the salute,” commanded Lt. Verley, and three guns fired slowly. He had previously advised Neville that three was the correct number. The fort responded with seven relatively weak blasts.
“Saving their powder, I wouldn’t wonder,” mumbled Verley. “And no shot at all I expect, unless they use coconuts. We should be surprised they answered at all before some supply ship arrives. Well, will you look there,” he then spoke in a louder, rather amazed tone. He pointed at the Fort.
“Yes, it seems there’s quite a crowd to see this fleet off. There’s a throng right down to the water.”
“That’s right enough amazing by itself, it is, but that’s not what I’m pointing at. There’s a ship there, see?”
“English navy,” said Lt. Ratshaw, peering at it through his glass. “She’s a small packet or supply ship, I think. No great Man-o’-War. Maybe some news after all these months.”
“Or maybe orders for us to join Captain Wright’s fleet? I think we’ll not go back to find out just now. We’ve a mission and proper orders from the governor. I doubt Captain Wright would defy a governor, anyway.”
Experiment bore off slightly downwind past the southern peninsulas of Jamaica, freeing herself from the stench of the Port Royal dumps, surging with the low mounding waves and increasing her speed as she left the shelter of land behind. She flew courses and reefed topsails, and the smaller sloops seemed to be keeping station with little difficulty, although Neville had not bothered to explain ‘keeping station’. He assumed that most had sailed in many a convoy north and would prefer not to be bothered with the navy’s insistence on formality. The Jamaican shore crawled by to starboard through the morning and dinner, and when ‘all hands’ was piped at two bells of the afternoon watch they executed their turn to starboard and set the west - northwest course they would hold for the next two days.
This course would take them between the greater and lesser Caymanos to the Isle of Pines at the western tip of Cuba.
Before leaving port, Neville had tried to use MacRead’s sextant but found that he could not adjust the upper mirror far enough even to take a sight. Mr. MacRead did not have the sextant repaired on Monday when they left, but by Tuesday morning, he was able to place it in Neville’s hands again. During the noon sighting exercise he was able to get a reading that compared favorably with the quadrants, both for the timing of noon and for the latitude. Neville declared the device finished for the time being.
“Two days to the Caymanos,” said Mr. Greaves when asked, “if this wind holds fair.”
“’Tis a fine sight, is it not, Mr. Greaves? Six with us, sailing large on such a blue and calm sea. With the sun on them as it is they look as clouds come down to touch the water.”
The six Jamaican sloops were, in truth, not all sloops. Wasp, Beagle, Lord Aaron, and Savage were two-masted ship-sloops fitted with twelve to sixteen guns. Camelot was a single-masted gaff-rigged topsail schooner of 10 guns an
d the Laurel, the smallest of the group in length, was a single-masted cutter carrying but eight guns. All were well manned.
“Aye, Sir, and all ours, with a common purpose. ‘Tis glorious both ways. I expect this weather will hold several more days, at least. There’s always the chance of hurricane this time ‘o year, but I think not this week, praise the Lord.”
“Praise the Lord indeed, Mr. Greaves.”
“Why do we not rise to the latitude of Caymano Grande and run it down, Sir?”
“I believe there is no need to take that precaution, if the charts be at all correct. With this,” he said, pulling the watch from his pocket, “we can know our longitude roughly. Since we will be passing those islands in the daylight we will have plenty of time to confirm our location, and we’ll save ourselves a few hours.”
“I’ve never seen one of those, Sir, though I have heard of ‘em. Would you be kind enough to explain it to me?”
“Aye. I would, but after we have proven ourselves able navigators with its use.”
Neville was determined to accomplish his best navigation on this passage, and insisted that the officer of the day be most accurate on the slate at the binnacle. In addition, he put Mr. Greaves and the midshipmen on notice that they should do the same.
“I expect to raise Caymano Grande to larboard around three bells of the afternoon watch today, with what you’ve told me, Mr. Greaves,” Neville was saying after supper on Wednesday. We will then be able to rest easier again until we’re close on the Isle of Pines. Once there, the master of Beagle will lead. We are told he knows the usual anchorages of pirates in those waters, and I didn’t bother to ask how he knew. I’m going below to take my supper and read Mr. Gooden’s reports while we wait for the lookout’s call. If a stores report doesn’t put me to sleep, that is.”
Neville was in his cabin quieting his apprehension regarding the appearance of the Caymanos and chewing a bit of leather-hard salt beef when he heard the chime of the bell. One. Two. Three. “Land Ho!”
He waited patiently for a messenger to come rouse him, pretending to be the indifferent captain, as he was sure Captain Troubridge of HMS Castor and Captain Yorke of HMS Stag had done when he served with them.
A knock came at the door, and he called out “Enter.”
One of the little black boys, whom Neville recognized as Isaiah, came in cautiously and not hiding the fact that he was gawking at every thing in the room.
“Yes?” said Neville, as sternly as he could muster. He stifled a laugh at the blatant curiosity.
“Suh, Mr. Greaves comp… comple… iments, Suh and do ya wanna come… step up to the big... the quatta deck, Suh?”
“Why would I, Isaiah?” asked Neville, and Isaiah’s curiosity quickly turned to fear. He had forgotten part of his speech.
“Because, Suh, lookout done call ‘Lan’ Ho’ is why.” Without waiting for anything else to happen, he scampered out the door.
Neville stood, exited his cabin and slowly climbed the five steps to the quarterdeck. He was conscious that he was smiling like the cat that ate the canary, but he wasn’t sure now whether it was the satisfaction of raising Caymano Grande precisely as he had predicted or the amusement in his cabin. It was both, he decided.
“Where away, Mr. Greaves?” Greaves was standing where Neville had left him at the larboard rail forward on the quarterdeck. Lt. Ratshaw had joined him, and Dinman.
“As you said, Sir. Larboard bow,” said Greaves nonchalantly, as if he had never doubted for an instant.
“The charts are good, then,” expounded Neville.
“The Lord be thanked. We must be quite close. That island is flat as East Anglia – nothing on it over an ‘undred feet above the sea.”
“Two days to the Isle of Pines, then, gentlemen. Let’s exercise the great guns today.”
The fleet’s arrival at the Isle of Pines was not quite as precise as the arrival at Caymanos had been. But neither was the island precisely laid on the charts. Low reef-like barrier islands began to appear to the north, and Experiment changed her course to parallel the shore. Upon seeing land, Beagle added sail and moved to the fore. That was enough to tell Neville that they had arrived. They sailed on for two hours, but no large island was yet seen.
“Sail Ho!” yelled the lookout, “Deck, there. Sail Ho!”
“Where away, Mr. Worth?”
“There, Sir,” he addressed Mr. Stokes who was Midshipman of the Watch, pointing more to starboard than ahead. “Two points off the starboard bow. No sail, Sir. Masts!”
“What is he on about, Lt. Ratshaw? Do you see anything? “
“No, I….. Yes, I do, just there. Masts only. There must be six of ‘em anchored there on t’other side of that sandbar island. Fetch cap’n, if you please, Mr. Stokes.”
Neville appeared on deck three minutes later and Lt. Ratshaw repeated what they had seen, pointing all the while. No glass was necessary to see the enemy ships, all anchored in very flat water. The masts were now almost on the beam.
“Wear ship, Lt. Ratshaw, and brail up courses. That’s a small French navy ship there, for sure. Signal ‘enemy’. I see Beagle has her signal up already. Those ships are what, maybe two miles distant? They are well out of range.”
Only one ship flew the French ensign. She was no larger than Experiment, and the best they could determine with the telescopes was that she carried maybe sixteen guns. All the others except one appeared to be merchant vessels of even smaller size, and the big one armed even more lightly than the smallest of the group. None flew any flag at all.
Experiment wore easily, furled all her sails, and raised the signal for “Come to Experiment for a meeting.”
Half an hour passed before the sloop masters were met on Experiment. They went below with Neville to discuss their strategy as soon as they were piped aboard.
Caruthers of Beagle was the main speaker: “We can’t get there from here, gentlemen,” he began to explain, “without we go around one end of this bloody group of little islands or t’other.” They had the chart of Cuba on the table. “We’re about here,” Caruthers said, tapping with his pipe stem, “and this end is maybe ten leagues back the way we’ve just come. T’other end is all the way round up here,” he continued, tracing the route with his finger, “past the Isle of Pines itself and ‘round in back. I’d say we split up and some go for each end.”
“I agree,” said Neville.
“Wot’s behind the big island?” asked Farnsworth, Master of Wasp.
“This end is clear except what you can see and this big reef stickin’ up ‘ere – at least back to where they are. West end’s got more complexity. I could lead the group that goes there.”
A rapid knocking came at the door. Lt. Verley stepped in.
“What is it, Lt. Verley?”
“They’re setting sail, Sirs.”
The entire group rushed on deck to observe.
“I would wager they will all claim to be proper French privateers, Captain Burton. That would explain being so cozy with the French man-o’-war.”
“I expect you are right, Master Farnsworth, but a French privateer is still an enemy of the crown. We’ll have them all if we can.”
“Two are setting to sail east and three are setting to sail for the west, by the look of it. The Frenchie is not doing a thing. Why’s that? You expect them all to go off together under her protection, wouldn’t you?”
“I would,” answered Neville, “but no matter. That’s not what they’re doing. We had better finish this up quick and get to it, then. Beagle, you take Wasp and Savage after those three going west. Lord Aaron, would you be comfortable leading Camelot and Laurel to the east end?
“Aye, Captain, I would. We’ll bring you a string of fish in a couple days.”
“Experiment will anchor here opposite Frenchie and will sail as she sails – or doesn’t. Meet back here in three days. If we are not here, then we have chased the French ship the way you have NOT come. If we’re not here in two days after
that, rendezvous at the southern anchorage at Caymano Chico. If we can’t manage even that by two weeks hence, head for Port Royal. Cheerio, gentlemen. I wish you successful hunting.”
Six gigs quickly retrieved their masters and began rowing whence they came. Burton, Verley, Ratshaw, Dinman, Greaves and the two midshipmen gathered at the foredeck rail to study their nemesis and discuss the next move, if there were to be one. The late afternoon breeze blew straight off Cuba, exposing the French stern to Experiment’s bow.
Mr. Greaves had been staring through his glass for some time when he finally announced, “I have it, finally. Her name is Comtesse du Provence, and she carries eighteen guns.”
Neville chuckled to himself, and then corrected Greaves’ pronunciation for everyone’s edification.
Mr. Tilburne, down in the waist, rousted his mates to pipe the men to dinner, afterwards coming up to the foredeck to stand with Gooden within earshot of the officer group.
“What do you think, Lt. Verley? Is she out of range?”
“I’m sure of it, Sir. Not worth the powder or the shot.”
“Should we haul a long minion onto that little island there? Maybe where it looks like rocks, and take a few shots?”
“I wouldn’t, unless I wanted to be dead. Your Comtesse is in sheltered water, giving her guns a very stable platform to shoot back. I think our minion wouldn’t last long. How about this, Sir: we cut her out. That may not be quite the right term. We take her over, then, after dark. It will be a very dark night, but not dirty. We’ve got clouds, only a bit ‘o moon, and just a light breeze. We can remain here as long as the breeze does not come ‘round behind. Our boats can get through those little passes; I’d wager my rum on it. If not, they could certainly be dragged over. We’d have to be quiet, though.”
“I like it,” decided Neville. “The boats needn’t be so quiet, though, until they’re right up under those long Frog noses. They know we’re here. We can leave on the lights. Our men aboard can dance the hornpipe with the fiddle and drums and all, while the boats are creeping up on them. They would have to be careful, however. The Frogs will be most alert.”
A Journal of The Experiment at Jamaica (The Neville Burton 'Worlds Apart' Series Book 2) Page 13