by Michael Aye
However, it was only good for a period of six months and then it had to be purchased again. The British Navy seldom recognized the letters but Taylor had agreed to purchase one and the dates should be omitted. LaFitte would know the answer by the time Taylor returned to New Orleans.
The weather held and as the sun sank the wind was favorable. The frigate disappeared from sight.
“Do we change course, Captain?” Johannes was acting as the master. He had been a master in a German merchantman but a disagreement with his drunken captain caused the ship to run aground entering the harbor at Kiel. The captain had influence and his shifting the blame upon the ship’s master was upheld. After leaving Germany, Johannes found billets on several ships before he wound up in New Orleans and aboard Raven. His first days were difficult, as he only spoke a little English. One of Raven’s crew, a man called Harvey, thought him a Fin and wanted him removed from the ship.
“He’s a wizard,” the seaman claimed. “He has the power to conjure up wind and storms. He can wreak supernatural vengeance on those he doesn’t see eye to eye with, I tell you.”
However, two things happened. A fight broke out in a tavern and the poor sailor had three men on him at once. Johannes busted a chair over one of the foes’ head and then took a busted chair leg and bounced it off another of the attackers. Now the fight was even and Raven’s man won out easily. Harvey thanked Johannes but was still wary until another German came aboard. This man spoke English well. He assured Harvey and other crew members that Johannes was truly a German and not a Fin.
***
It was twilight and the stars were beginning to flicker overhead. The evening meal had been eaten and except for the few sailors on watch, the men, Deborah, and Sophia gathered in the waist of the ship enjoying the songs being sung by Mac. He had a rich baritone voice. He sang several Scottish folk songs. Some so sad it brought tears to your eyes, while others were lively tunes. Sophia danced with several of the crew while the others clapped and tapped their feet upon the deck keeping time with the music.
Mac claimed to be from the clan MacArthur from Argyll. His family was the pipers to the clan MacDonald. The MacArthurs, MacDonalds, and several other Scottish kin were rivals to the clan Campbells, who historically sided with the British, to the detriment of their Scottish kin. One of the songs David sang was about the daughter of a MacDonald, who fell in love with the son of a Campbell, but with the war between the two sides their love could never be. He also sang a song called “Daddy’s Little Girl,” which told of a man watching his daughter grow up and marry before he knew it, realizing time had flown by. However, even though she was grown and married she’d always be Daddy’s little girl. It was getting late when the little crowd broke up. The ship’s bell rang indicating it was time to change the watch.
Looking over the larboard rail, Sophia was taken in by the way the moon shown down on the water, which was smooth and almost like glass. Looking aft, the ship left a luminous phosphorescent wake that was fascinating.
“It’s almost like the lightning bugs we used to catch and put in a jar,” Sophia declared.
Captain Taylor and Deborah were standing next to Sophia and Cooper. Deborah leaned over and whispered to Taylor, “In spite of how she’s been raised, she has the innocence of a child.”
“Aye, a woman child,” Taylor agreed.
***
The dawn rose with an empty horizon except for a red sky. Otherwise, the weather was clear with a brisk easterly wind. All hands were called to trim sails as the ship was passing through the Straits of Florida. Johannes stood next to Johnson, who was at the helm. He had an uneasy look about him.
When Taylor approached, Johannes said, “I’ve an uneasy feeling, Captain. The air’s not right and the sky is red.”
The Captain looked at the sky and thought he’d never seen such a fine day for sailing as the day promised thus far. However, he’d learned never to question his master when they spoke of the weather.
“The sea is too smooth,” Johannes volunteered. “There’s a different sound to the riggings.”
“You think we have a squall in the making?” Mac asked. He and Cooper had walked up and heard the exchange.
“Nay, worse than that, a full storm, a hurricane I’m thinking,” Johannes said.
Cooper looked at the cloudless sky and wanted to question Johannes but refrained. If the captain and Mac didn’t doubt Johannes, he surely wouldn’t.
“Let’s look at the charts,” Johannes said. “See if we can find a likely island to take shelter in.”
The chart was unrolled and spread out over a table in the captain’s cabin. The ends were weighted down with a pistol and an empty tankard at the top. The captain held one side and Johannes the other at the bottom of the map.
“Bimini appears to be the most likely safe port, Captain. I’ve never been there but if the chart’s right, the harbor’s deep enough. We can anchor forward and aft and hope for the best. The land mass should offer all the protection we could hope for without coming about and finding a safe harbor off the Florida coast or one of the Keys.”
“Do you think Bimini will be the best, Johannes?” Taylor asked.
“Aye, Captain, that I do.”
“Very well, Alice Town it will be. Set a new course, Mr. Ewers,” Taylor said, speaking formally, using Johannes last name.
The hands had just finished their midday meal when the sky began to darken. Soon large drops of rain began to spatter on the deck.
“I guess Johannes was right,” Cooper said to the captain.
“A lesson to you, Cooper. Regardless of what the sky looks like never argue with the master. If he feels it in his bones, then it will likely happen.”
Mac walked up. The wind was rising so he had to shout. “Do we reduce sail, Captain?” The ship was under full canvas.
“Not yet, Mac. We will have to later, I’m sure, but for now we are in a race with the elements,” Taylor replied.
Deborah and Sophia came on deck. Seeing the rain, Deborah said, “I could smell the rain and the air was sticky.”
Taylor only nodded. “I will come below to get my tarpaulin, but it’s best if you and Sophia stay below.”
“You’ll not come?” Deborah asked.
Taylor shook his head. “Nay, my place is on the quarterdeck.”
Deborah acknowledged her man but couldn’t help but worry. She and Sophia went back below. On deck the sky continued to darken until it was almost black. Hatches were battened down and deck gear secured.
“At least, we don’t have to worry about the big guns,” Mac volunteered.
“Aye,” Spurlock agreed.
“Land ho!” the lookout called down.
“We should be within fifteen miles or so,” Johannes volunteered to Captain Taylor.
“And not too soon, I’m thinking,” Taylor answered. “Mr. MacArthur.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Time to shorten sail,” Taylor replied.
“Aye, aye sir. All hands,” Mac called.
The bosun’s pipe shrilled and the hands gathered, and then went aloft one mast at a time to shorten sail.
“In Royals, stow flying jib and main royal staysail,” Mac ordered.
The evolution went smoothly if not fast. Had the Raven’s full crew been aboard the act of shortening sail would have taken no time at all.
“In topgallants,” Mac ordered.
Grinning, Cooper looked across to Spurlock, “Been a while since you’ve been aloft, gunner.”
“Aye, Coop, but I ain’t forgot, one arm for you and one for the ship.” The men grinned at each other as they completed their task.
The wind tugged at their shirts and pulled the skin on their faces back until their eyes watered. Finally, when the ship was reduced to storm sails, the island could be seen from the deck. The smooth, gentle sea had changed until huge rollers with white caps slammed into the ship’s hull. We got the sails shortened with little time to spare, Taylor thought. The sh
ip was starting to heave as it bucked over one wave, fell into a trough and climbed out again, only to plunge back again into the deepening trough. The sky was now almost dark as night.
“Another man on the helm, Captain?” Mac asked.
“Aye,” Taylor said, agreeing with Mac.
Hearing the exchange, Cooper stepped over to the ship’s wheel, taking one side. The helmsman gave an appreciative nod. Waves now crashed over the bow and water came flooding down the channels and out the scuppers. Life lines had just been strung up when a wave crashed down, knocking Bridges from his feet. Holding to the life line with one arm, Robinson stretched out his six feet plus wing span and grabbed Bridges and held on until the wave had sloshed on. He then pulled Bridges to the life line.
The wind increased until it was almost impossible to see. Waves grew until they appeared to be higher than the ship’s mast. The rain came down in sheets, a hard driving rain that felt like hammers against the skin.
“We should be getting close,” Taylor said. What he didn’t say was I hope we don’t run aground and cause the ship to flounder.
Mac slung a glass over his shoulder and managed to hold on to the shrouds as he climbed several feet up the rat lines. “Land dead ahead,” he bellowed.
“Time to rig a sea anchor?” Johannes asked the captain.
“Aye, it wouldn’t hurt,” Taylor replied.
A spare boom was being rigged when suddenly the weather moderated. As the wind died Cooper asked, “Are we in the eye?”
Mac shook his head, “I think we are now feeling the shelter from the storm that the island is providing.” The sky was still dark but the sea was less violent and the force of the rain was less.
“Mac, if you will get a lead line and take soundings,” Taylor requested.
“Aye, Captain.”
“Banty, get into the bow and form a good lookout.”
“Aye, Captain,” Banty replied.
From the chains, Mac called out the soundings as Banty kept his eyes open for shoals and breakers. When the sounding started to show less and less water under the keel, the storm sails were furled and Taylor ordered the helm put down.
When headway was lost, Taylor ordered, “Let go” and the best bower was let go. Looking at the lead, Mac called to the captain, “Bottom is mud and sand.”
“A bit of luck, Mac,” Taylor said.
“Aye, Captain, more than we deserve if you asked me.”
“What did the captain mean by the mud and sand being a bit of luck?” Cooper asked Quang.
“A rocky bottom could cause the anchor to wedge in a crack and we’d lose her,” Quang said. “A good anchorage is one where the ship is protected from the prevailing winds and not too deep. Good ground is when the bottom is blue clay, that’s the best with mud and sand next. The mud will hold the anchor.”
As the ship swung Taylor dropped the second anchor. “That should hold her,” he said speaking to Johannes.
“Aye Captain, best we can hope for,” Johannes said.
The wind could still be heard and the rain fell. Two men at a time stood anchor watch and were changed every two hours. Everybody from the captain down to Rooster took their turn. But the anchor held and the island offered good protection. A sleepless but uneventful night.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Ahoy on deck, I sees a ship,” Banty called down. Damned if he doesn’t spend most of his time in the main top as lookout, Cooper thought aloud.
“Lazy, the bugger is,” Spurlock answered. “Not much expected if he’s up there. But he’s got a set of peepers so the captain lets him stay aloft long as he wants. Nobody else likes the tops like he does, be it a sea calm as glass or coming on a blow. He sings to himself at times if he gets to bored.”
The sea still held a moderate chop and the wind was brisk, but the sky was clear with puffy white clouds, as Sophia was wont to say.
“Where away,” Taylor called up.”
“Two points off the starboard bow,” Banty called down. “No sails, took me a minute to make her out.”
“Probably lost his sails and rigging to the storm,” Mac volunteered.
“Set a course to bring us in close,” Captain Taylor barked to Johannes who spoke to Johnson who was at the helm.
As they closed with the ship it was easy to understand why she didn’t carry a spread of canvas. The ship was little more than a floating hulk. Her mainmast was a stump about six feet off the deck and the mizzenmast looked like a bare pole. There was nothing of a forward mast. Captain Taylor and Mac each had a glass on the ship. Mac was standing on a ratline holding to a shroud while Taylor stood on the poop deck.
Deborah and Sophia were at the rails when Deborah exclaimed, “God, what is that smell!” Holding their noses they ran to the other side of the ship, with Sophia gagging.
“We are upwind and you can still smell the shitten ship,” Taylor said. “Do you have a good stomach, Coop?”
“I thought I did, Captain, but I don’t know. I’ve never smelt anything so foul.”
“Were I sure there was no one aboard and we were in Raven, I’d hole her twixt wind and water. But since we’re not in Raven, we better send a boat over. McKemie, Quang, Johnson, Robinson, and Bridges see Mr. Spurlock so that you can collect pistols and cutlasses; and then come back and get ready to go across with Cooper.” After a pause, Taylor added, “And Mr. Spurlock.”
The wind shifted a bit and more than one of the crew squinted his eyes and turned his head.
“Wouldn’t hurt for you men to get a handkerchief or something to go around your nose,” Taylor said.
Cooper went below deck and grabbed a handy scarf. He then went over to Sophia’s chest. He rummaged around a bit and took out a bottle of perfume and liberally splashed it on the scarf. Returning to deck, Spurlock handed him a brace of pistols and a cutlass. The men climbed down into a ship’s boat and headed for the disabled ship.
“Damn, Coop, you smell like a French whore,” McKemie said.
“Better than that,” Cooper said, pointing with his blade toward the slaver.
“He’s right there,” Bridges said, but Robinson gave his mate the eye like maybe he wasn’t sure.
By the time they got to the side of the ship the stench was almost unbearable. “God,” Johnson said as he vomited over the side.
“It smells worse than ten outhouses,” Spurlock said.
The foul odors of urine, feces, rotten flesh, and alcohol all mingled. “Smells like death,” Quang said. “A battlefield just after the battle is over.”
Latching on to the man rope at the entry port, McKemie held the boat while everyone went up the battens.
“Captain’s cabin first,” Spurlock advised. “The rest of you stand guard over the hatches.”
The moans and groans of slaves could be heard. “Some are still alive,” Quang said.
Inside the captain’s cabin three men were found, all passed out drunk. Wine bottles were rolling across the deck. In the corner of the cabin a young black girl was curled up. She was light skinned, possibly a mulatto. She, too appeared drunk. Spurlock called to Quang and asked him to fetch a couple buckets of water.
“Crew members,” Spurlock said. “The captain and most of the crew probably deserted the ship. They left these four, and fear got to them so they swilled away at the captain’s wine stores.”
Cooper looked about and felt Spurlock was right. Quang returned with the water, and Spurlock said, “Stand back, Cooper. He then drenched the drunken sailors. Rousted out of their stupor, the men looked up wild-eyed and afraid. Quang poured the remainder of water on the girl and she blinked, coughed, and stood on wobbly feet.
The men were soon able to focus and one of them, an older man, finally managed to speak, “Thank God, we are saved.” The other two spoke but in Spanish, so nobody was able to understand anything but a word here and there. The English speaking sailor confirmed much that had already been guessed. They were carrying a cargo of slaves to Bermuda from Santiago, Cuba
.
“Any other cargo?” Coop asked.
“Only some small things the crew was allowed to sell,” the man said.
“Quang, escort these gentlemen and the girl on deck.” Once gone, Cooper spoke quietly to Spurlock, “Captain once said slavers always carry a contingency fund. Let’s keep the cabin off limits until we can do a thorough search.”
“Aye,” Spurlock agreed. “The captain’s little pet might know where it’s kept but I wouldn’t trust her to be out of my sight. We are going to need keys to the slaves’ chains and shackles. The mate would have a set but so would the captain. Let’s look for the keys and if they are not here, we will search the mate’s cabin.” The keys were easy to find. They were lying in the captain’s desk drawer.
“Now for the hard part,” Cooper said.
***
The slave tiers were a horrible sight. The slaves were packed like sardines. “A short run,” Spurlock said. “Otherwise, there would have been more space.”
There were men, women, and older children, all naked as the day they were born. They were chained together with shackles on their ankles and lying in their own filth.
“We have got to get these people on deck, cleaned up, and fed,” Cooper said, not believing his eyes. “We can’t bring but a few on deck at a time, otherwise, they may go berserk and run rampant.”
Cooper called the men together once they got back on deck. “Send a signal for the captain to close within speaking distance. Then have the slaver’s men rig the deck pumps. We will bring twenty-five at a time on deck, wash them down and clean their tier as well as possible and feed them.”
“Aye,” the men replied.
Once Taylor closed, he sent two more men over. Mac was one of them. The evolution was carried out. The mulatto and a crew member cooked a watery oatmeal that was cooked with butter and sweetened with sugar.
“In the Royal Navy, we called that skillygalee,” Mac said.
A bucket of water was brought on deck. The slaves took to the food and water like there was no tomorrow. However, they let up a cry when an attempt was made to wash them off with the deck pump. Had McKemie not been quick on his feet, one of the poor devils would have jumped over the side.