by Michael Aye
Taylor who was watching smiled, “One more thing, Coop. With your share from the last cruise you’re off the accounts with me. Paid in full you are, boy, including the tab of money I sent to Cindy for the girls’ upkeep.”
“Thanks Eli,” Cooper said, using the captain’s given name. “My account may be paid but I will forever be in your debt.”
“Nonsense,” Taylor replied and then paused for a second. He had been packing his pipe, now he lit it. “You may want to tell Mac that word has come and the girls should be on their way home soon.”
“Thank you again, Captain. You know he is very much in love with Lucy and I believe she feels the same way for him. Not that anything will come of it. He lacks the social standing for any type of permanent relationship.”
Taylor nodded, “It could be this cruise will make him so rich that he can quit the sea and set himself up proper.”
“Do you really believe this cruise will be that successful, Captain?”
“It has the potential, Coop, but I have my doubts. This is a lot of effort based on some spy’s word. Of course, it has always been good in the past. Jose’s coffers will bear that out.”
“But the risk,” Cooper said.
“Aye, there’s that, but no risk no gain. Now be off with you, boy, but have a care. The Spanish are out for Gaspar. He has punished them hard, so I’ve no doubt they’ll be expecting some devilment on his part.”
Cooper thanked the captain for the drink and promotion. He’d made his way to the cabin door when he stopped. “Had it been a tie, Captain, and you had to break the tie, would you have voted yea or nay?”
Taylor eyed the young man who was the closest thing he’d ever have as a son. “What do you think, Cooper?”
“Nay, sir, too much risk voting yea.”
“You are a very perceptible young man, Cooper Cain. You will be a captain if you live long enough. Now be gone, and when the time comes don’t take any unnecessary chances. Remember, luck is a fickle lady at best.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
First light came late due to dark clouds that filled the early morning sky. A drizzling rain had been with them most of the night. There was a brisk wind from the south and the sea was choppy. It would be a miserable day. Turner was on deck clucking to himself, which usually meant he didn’t like something. Moree was in the main tops, “Deck thar,” he shouted, proving he was not dozing. “Convoy off the larboard bow.”
Taylor was now on deck and nobody had noticed his arrival. “Where’s our cohort?” he asked.
“To starboard, Captain.”
“Send up the signal convoy sighted.”
“I doubt he’ll see it, Captain, not with the weather as it is.”
“Try anyway,” Taylor ordered.
“We could send up a flare, that’d get his attention,” Banty remarked.
“As well as the Dons,” Johannes said, answering Banty’s comments.
“We’ll wait a bit,” Taylor said. “Mr. Diamond, send another pair of eyes to the tops. I want his eyes on Gaspar while the other lookout watches the convoy.”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
“Shall we go ahead with the morning meal?” Turner asked.
“Aye, men fight better with a full belly,” Taylor responded. “Any change in Gaspar’s tack?” Taylor called up.
“Not as I can tell,” the lookout said.
“Damn the man and damn his lookouts,” Taylor swore.
“Probably expects the convoy to be closer to the coast,” Rooster volunteered.
“Well, he expects wrong. With foul weather and knowing Gaspar’ll be on the lookout, I’m surprised they are not further out than they are. Mr. Spurlock!”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Break out the damn flares. If he’s not changed tack by the time we’ve finished our breakfast, we’ll send one up.”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
Gaspar had still not acknowledged the signal when the meal was finished and the galley fires put out. Cooper felt a queasy feeling when he broke his fast on just ship’s biscuits and coffee.
“Deck thar, the convoy is clamping on more sail.”
“That means they have a better lookout than our friend yonder,” Banty smirked.
“Fire the flare, Mr. Diamond.”
Spurlock nodded and then sent up a red flare. After a moment one of the lookouts called down, “They’ve changed tack, Captain. Gaspar is bearing down on us.”
“About time,” someone snorted.
Even though the merchant ships were cumbersome and had to tack back and forth, it was near noon before they closed with the convoy. A big, two decker warship had put about and was now almost at the back of the convoy.
“Bring her up two points,” Taylor ordered the helmsman. If they want to come to the rear we’ll pick out a prize a bit more to the center of the convoy.” Seeing what Taylor had done the Spanish two decker tried to follow.
“He’ll never even get close,” Quang said. “She’s lubberly if you ask me.”
Gaspar seemed to be doing the same as Taylor on the starboard side of the convoy. Closing fast, Turner alerted his captain.
“Mr. Diamond, get a crew ready to board that ship,” Taylor ordered, using a cutlass as a pointer.
Diamond saluted and went about gathering his men. They’d board and if there was no fight, Raven would move on to the next ship that looked promising.
“Where’s the two decker?” Taylor shouted to the lookout.
“Far behind in our wake,” came the reply.
“A Spanish eighty gun, lots of firepower but old. No longer the sailor she once was,” Bridges volunteered. “Probably thought her size would scare us off,” he added.
“Ready Captain,” Diamond shouted.
“Put one across her bow?” Turner asked.
“Let’s see,” Taylor said, and then added, “show yourselves and make some noise.”
That did it, seeing a hoard of blood-thirsty pirates, the Spanish captain dropped his sails and Raven’s crew soon swung over on lines. Watching for a moment, the Raven made for the rest of the convoy as Diamond had the prize put about and headed for the rendezvous.
The next ship was a bit more stubborn. “Spurlock, put one across her bow, and then put one through her mainsail. Run up the red flag, Mr. Turner.”
“Aye, Captain, leave it to a Don to be stubborn.” Once the red flag was run up the prize’s captain ran up a white flag and lowered his sails.
“Take fifty men, Mr. Turner. The signal for all clear is a crossed pistol and blade. The sign that all is not well is a pistol shot. I hear that and you’d better duck, as all standing will likely get a piece of grape up the arse from the swivels.”
“Aye Captain. You heard ’im men, make sure your weapons are not cocked.”
Over the fifty men went, some slipping on the wet deck. A ship that size should only have a crew of twenty-five to thirty-five. A quick count showed thirty on deck, including a woman and young girl. Probably the captain’s family. Taylor was starting to get impatient when looking through his glass he could see his men go on deck, speak to the quartermaster, who then sent the message all is well with a crossed pistol and blade. It had taken more time but Turner had sent men below to make sure all was as it seemed.
All sail was bent on as Raven attempted to overtake the convoy again. Much as Diamond had done, Turner had the prize put about and headed to the rendezvous point.
“We got a straggler it appears,” Banty said. “Not the sailor her cohorts are.”
“She was alongside the ship we just took,” Robinson advised. “Lucky we didn’t cross over and take her at the same time.” It did not take long to overtake the Spaniard. Across the stern “Senora Inez” was painted.
“A Spanish brigantine,” Johannes offered as they closed with the ship. “She could mount fourteen guns but probably not the crew to man them.”
“Put one across her bow, Mr. Spurlock,” Taylor ordered.
“Aye, Captain.”
The bow gun boomed out but to Cooper it seemed the sails were coming down before the gun was fired. A white flag went up the mainmast. Raven was only slightly taller than the Senora Inez and standing on Raven’s poop he could see down into the other ship. Thirty or so men approached the rail with hands up.
“I’ve never seen anybody crowd the rail like that before,” Banty said.
One of the Spaniard’s men jumped back a bit bumping the man behind him. Captain Taylor had reduced sail and was almost up to the stern of the prize.
“Captain, Captain Taylor,” Cooper shouted. “Smoke, Captain. I saw a tendril of smoke from behind the rail of that ship.” He kept looking, “There is several wisps all down the rail.”
“Hard a-lee,” Taylor shouted. “Down, men down.”
Fourteen gunports on the Spanish ship were thrown open. Orange flames spewed forth as over eager gunners fired to soon. Most of the guns were firing into empty air where Raven would have been but two of the guns found their mark, hitting just in front of the main chains. The balls ripped out the bulwark and overturned a cannon, killing at least four of the gunners. The other shot that hit cut through the jib sail and spanker boom. Around Raven slewed, its deck canting so that seamen had to grab hold of something or fall. Once around, Taylor luffed up.
Spurlock was at the quarterdeck in a flash. “Carronades, Captain, the whoreson tried to lure us in and let fly with those beasts.”
“Aye,” Mac said. “Lucky you figured it out before they could get a broadside into us.”
“Wasn’t me,” Taylor acknowledged. “It was Coop.”
“Bastards blasted away flying the white flag, and killed several of my mates,” Johannes said.
“They’ll pay,” Taylor said. “Mark my word on it. Those carronades pack a lot of weight but give a lot in range, am I right, Mr. MacArthur?”
“Aye, Captain, you are correct.”
“Johannes, run up the red flag. I’ll not let that ship swim. The forward guns, Mr. Spurlock, are they serviceable?”
“Aye that they are, Captain,” Spurlock responded.
“Go with him, Mr. Cooper. Banty!”
“Yes sir.”
“See about getting our wounded down to the surgeon. Robinson, is the two decker closing?”
“Not that I can see, Captain.”
“Get aloft with you and watch for her approach. Tell Moree to watch ahead of us in case an escort heads this way. Bridges, clear away the damage forward. Rooster!”
“Here, Captain.”
“Get below and make sure there’s no damage below the water line.”
“Aye.”
Picking up the speaking trumpet, Taylor called, “Commence firing at your pleasure, Mr. Spurlock.”
“Aye, Captain. They’re almost in range now.”
The Spaniard, having failed in his surprise had hauled his wind. But Raven had a clean bottom and was a fast sailor. It was not ten minutes when the forward nine pounder on the starboard side boomed and shortly after that the larboard gun followed suit. The crew members were shouting and jumping up and down. Spurlock must have already scored a hit. The gunner knew his business, he did.
The rain had lessened and now wasn’t much more than a mist. Raven’s guns were equipped with flintlock firing mechanisms. The gun captain had only to pull the lanyard to fire the weapon. Did they not have those on the chase? Was the captain worried the flint wouldn’t spark with the rain and had slow match lit just in case or did he have the older carronades that used slow match. Regardless, it was the slow match and Cooper’s good eyes that prevented wholesale slaughter.
Raven was not built to stand up to such weight. What was it Mac had speculated, twenty-four pounders. The forward gun continued to boom. Smoke drifted back toward the quarterdeck.
“Above,” the lookout called down. “The Don has hove to, Cap’n.”
Raven hove to just astern of the prize. A full broadside was trained on the Spaniard. “Go aboard, Mac. Signals the same. I don’t see you or the signal in five minutes after you board, get down and I’ll blast her.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Taylor had not ordered Cooper to go over but he hadn’t forbade it either. Seeing him in a ship’s boat with the rest of the crew almost made him call out. “I can’t do that,” Taylor said to himself. That would be sending the wrong message to men he might one day command.
The carnage was sickening. Dead men lay sprawled everywhere, wounded men were groaning. Stretcher barriers were made to pick up a man and he screamed out. The deck was awash with blood, which ran down the channels and out the scuppers. A uniformed officer stepped forward holding out his sword in surrender.
“Where is your captain?” Mac asked with a snarl. “He fired while he flew the white flag. The man is without honor. I demand to see him at once.”
Cooper was not sure the Spanish understood all Mac said but he got some of it. When Mac demanded to see the captain, the officer gently took Mac’s arm, turning him around. There was their captain. A rope around his neck, dangling from the mainmast spar in the air, his face was blue and his neck was at a grotesque angle. He’d been hanged. His body swung in rhythm with the sea. The Spainards had satisfied honor in their own way.
***
Overall the cruise had been a dismal failure. They had taken five ships including the one who’d fired upon them while flying the white flag. “If Cooper had not spied the smoke we would have been taken,” Taylor told his crew once they had rendezvoused. “The Raven would never have withstood a broadside from those big bruisers, but even if she had, they’d had enough men to overpower us. This was an attempt to get Gaspar. The Spanish lieutenant told Mac that they thought we were him.”
The governor’s treasures turned out to be embroideries, dinnerware, enough wine to replenish his cellar if there was one, and various food delicacies including cocoa. Another ship had two cases of muskets, powder and shot, wheat, corn, and tar. In the Senora Inez, the dead captain had a small cache of silver.
“A failure,” Taylor swore.
Jose Gaspar was fit to be tied and swore he’d see that his informant would die a terrible death. On board the Raven, several had died and more would have been dead had it not been for Beau Cannington. He had had to amputate one leg but the man survived and laughed about spending his retirement on a small tavern. Several of the crew had splinters from where the rail had been blasted away. Only one of those was still in bed. A splinter, a foot long, had impaled the man in the groin. “At least, it missed my wedding tackle,” Norris said.
“Might have been better had it took it,” Banty chided. “It didn’t do you any good anyhow and at least you wouldn’t limp.”
“I’m amazed at how the crew can be in such spirits after such a poor take,” Cooper remarked.
“Cause they’re alive,” McKemie said. “They’ve cheated death yet again. The takings were hardly worth the trip, but the possibility had been there so they took it. Had they not given it a try, they would have always wondered what if.”
Cooper could see the logic in McKemie’s words and wondered how many would make the same choice if they had it to do over again. Five would never know. They played the game and it cost them. We’ll head home tomorrow the captain had said. He was taking the loss of life hard.
“That’s how it is when you’re the captain,” Mac said. “It’s a terrible thing to see men you laughed with, faced hard times with, beat the odds time and time again with only to see them killed for no profit. To see your ship pounded and had it not been for a freak wind that showed the smoke, to know the ship you love might now be at the bottom of the sea. All of this is going through our captain’s mind, Coop. And I’ll tell you something else, mate. Don’t take it wrong but everybody saw what they expected to see. What they’ve seen time and time again…except for one person. Not the quartermaster, not an old navy gunner, not an ex-navy lieutenant, not even the captain, not one seasoned seamen; but the person with the least amount of experien
ce in the whole crew. Someone said that was easy and you thought too easy. So you looked and because you looked you saw the smoke and you sang out. The captain realized the trap when the smoke was seen but nobody knows better than the captain, Coop, that we are alive tonight because some young wannabe, who has barely got his sea legs saw what all others missed. Would there be five dead and sixteen wounded if any of us real seamen had not taken things for granted? That’s what is on the captain’s mind, Coop. He’s thankful for you, but he’s hurt and feels like he’s let his crew down, that he’s responsible for those deaths and injuries. Not a man aboard would fault him. Most would say but for his quick actions more would be dead. But they ain’t the captain. That’s the loneliest job aboard this ship, any ship in truth. You’ll see one day when you are a captain. Don’t laugh, Coop, you will be a captain and sooner than you know, I’m thinking.”
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Rene Beluche and Louis ‘Cut Nose’ Chigizola sat at a table enjoying a tankard of rum at Grand Terre’s largest tavern. They were listening to two other sailors argue over one’s intentions toward the other’s sister. Cut Nose, also known as Nez Coupé, had lost his nose in a knife fight. Some said it was over a woman, others said it was in battle. Regardless, he wore a leather cover to hide the deformity. Seeing Cooper, Mac, and Banty walk in, Cut Nose motioned them over to the table he and Beluche were occupying.
Pulling out a bench, the three took a seat and Cut Nose raised his tankard and motioned to a wench to bring rum for his friends. The exchange between the two seamen was becoming more heated and voices were raised.
Mac nodded with his head at the two and asked, “Why the commotion?”
“A sister,” Cut Nose replied as if that was all the explanation that was needed.
Banty nodded and then said for Coop’s benefit, “Never heard of a sailor disrespecting a mate’s mother. On the other hand, it ain’t wise to let on you got a sister. ’Specially if she’s a looker.” This brought a smile to Cooper and Mac.
Cut Nose had just asked about the venture with Gaspar when a shot went off. One of the sailors grabbed his abdomen and was bent over while the other stood with a smoking pistol. Blood oozed between the fingers of the gut shot man as he buckled to the dirt floor on his knees and then crumpled down.