The Seahorse
Authors: Michael Aye
Tags: #Fiction: Action & Adventure, #Fiction: Men's Adventure
Other Boson Books by Michael Aye
The Reaper, The Fighting Anthonys, Book 1
HMS SeaWolf, The Fighting Anthonys, Book 2
Barracuda, The Fighting Anthonys, Book 3
THE FIGHTING ANTHONYS
BOOK FOUR
SEAHORSE
by
Michael Aye
BOSON BOOKS
Raleigh
Michael Aye is a retired Naval Medical Officer. He has long been a student of early American and British Naval history. Since reading his first Kent novel, Mike has spent many hours reading the great authors of sea fiction, often while being “haze gray and underway” himself.
ISBN (paper): 978-0-917990-90-8
ISBN (ebook): 978-0-917990-91-5
© 2010 Michael A. Fowler
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, including mechanical, electric, photocopy, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
Published by
Boson Books,
a division of C & M Online Media, Inc.
3905 Meadow Field Lane,
Raleigh, NC 27606-4470
Cover art by Johannes Ewers
Graphic art by Carrie Skalla
Author's Note
This book is a work of fiction with a historical backdrop. I have taken liberties with historical figures, ships, and time frames to blend in with my story. Therefore, this book is not a reflection of actual historical events.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the memory of World War II hero, Master Sergeant George L. Jepson, recipient of the prestigious Silver Star Medal for “Gallantry in Action.” Jepson “Jep” was First Mate aboard the P-399,
SEAHORSE,
a United States Army Air Force air sea rescue boat.
Upon reading the article, “A Thoroughbred Goes to War,” featured in
Wooden Boat Magazine
, I knew the name of my next book would be
SeaHorse
and the master would be Jep Jepson. This one is for you, Master Sergeant.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
A special thanks to my friend, Joe Ragland, for the information on his ancestor, Lord Raglan. My character is based more on Joe's personality than that of Lord Raglan. I was able to gain much information for this book based on Joe's knowledge and materials. Raglan Village and Castle can still be visited today though much of the castle is in ruins.
Thanks to Carrie Skalla for allowing the continued use of her art.
In searching for a cover, the wonderful art of artist Johannes Ewers was the unanimous choice. His
Age of Sail
paintings are authentic and capture the essence of fighting ships.
As always a special thanks to my love and my life. Without her untiring devotion and editing
SeaHorse
would be nothing but a thought.
PART I
The Forgotten Salt
I walked out of Whitehall,
Had my orders in my hand.
I saw this ragged shell,
That once had been a man.
He leaned against the building,
A timber for a leg.
He once sailed with Nelson,
Now he had to beg.
Forgotten the days of glory,
Long cast over the side.
Our country now shuns them,
Men crippled, and those who died.
I fished out a guinea,
He deserved so much more.
He said, Thank you kindly, Cap'n,
Lost me leg at Trafalgar.
-Michael Aye
Prologue
“Shhâ¦What's 'at mate?”
“Shut yer trap, Luke, I 'ears somthin.”
“Awe, it's probably the master blowing 'is innards at the 'ead.”
“Hush! I 'ears it again. It's like water lapping against the hull and loose riggings aloft.”
“I don't see nuthin.”
“Course you don't you bugger. The fogs to 'eavy but I 'ears it jus the same.”
“Mr Kemp, sir.”
“What is it, Forester?”
“I 'ears somthin out there sir,” the seaman said, pointing into the heavy fog that filled Carlisle Bay. Even the lights from nearby Bridgetown were not visible, as the fog was so dense. “It sounds like a ship coming in, only trying to be quiet like, sir.”
Edward Kemp was the third lieutenant aboard
HMS Prudent
of sixty-four guns. The ship had been in commission for three years now and he knew his men well. Forester was a good topman with no nonsense about him. If he was concerned enough to alert the officer of the watch, then there was something out there.
“Mr Richards,” Kemp called to his midshipman.
“Aye, sir.”
“I think the captain and first lieutenant are dining together. Would you be so kind as to relay my compliments and tell the captain we've picked up the noise of an⦔ Kemp thought for a moment before finishing. “...from an unidentified approaching vessel.”
“Aye, sir,” the youth replied as he hurried off to do his bidding. I didn't see any vessel, he thought, but he'd been in the Navy long enough to do as ordered without question.
Once sending for the captain, Kemp approached the starboard rail where Forester stood, his head cocked so he could better pick up the sounds coming from the dark. Wiping the fog from his face and beard the topman spoke, “I 'ears it regular like now, sir. No doubt it
be a vessel o' some sort or tother; 'ear that,” Forester spoke in a whisper. “â¦Voices.”
Kemp had heard enough. Without waiting further, he called for all hands. The captain would rather him do that than jeopardize the ship.
“Look sir,” Forester cried, alarm in his voice.
A red glow could be seenâ¦growing, becoming brighter in the fog. Slowly the eerie, shadowy form began to take shape, lit up by the flames blazing aboard the approaching menace. The captain was now on deck and had witnessed the burning ship appear as a demon out of the misty fog that enshrouded the anchored ships.
The captain swallowed hard, suddenly nervous about the prospect of losing his ship to the approaching inferno. He turned to his first lieutenant. “Beat to quarters, Mr Duncan, and blast yonder ship to Hades where she belongs.”
“Mr Kemp, set up the deck pumps. The fog has the ship fairly dripping but I want to be ready for every possibility.”
“Sir.” This from Forester again. “I 'ear gunfire from over at the convoy. See sirâ¦see the flash? That be musket or pistol shots I'm thinking.”
“I see them,” Kemp replied, touching the man on the shoulder. “But I can't worry about that now. We'll check it out after we deal with this one,” he said, pointing to the burning vessel.
Turning back toward the captain, Kemp heard Duncan say, “She's a small vessel.”
“I could care less about her size, sir; I want the damn thing sunk,” the captain retorted.
Kemp could now see, as the flames had increased and climbed to the vessel's mast and riggings, that it was a small ship indeed. The size of a cutter, he thought.
The night was suddenly shattered as
Prudent
's guns roared out in defiance. Old the ship may be but she still spoke with authority as the ship heaved under the force of its broadside. The vessel, whatever type it had been, was nothing more now than a semi-floating wreck. The mast was by the side and sizzled as smoke and steam from its hot timber drifted upward. A brief gust of wind caused a torrent of sparks to fill the air then fade away into the fog.
Smoke from
Prudent
's guns, mixed with that of the burning vessel, drifted across the crowded deck of the warship as men watched the last ember of the fireship succumb to the dark waters. Men coughed and rubbed their eyes, but otherwise stood silent, not fully understanding what had taken place. The fireship had had no chance.
“Look!” someone called out.
Red flares now filled the night above the anchored merchantmen that were to sail in convoy on the morrow.
Kemp suddenly recalled the recent conversation with Forester and quickly informed the captain of flashes of small arms fire among the merchantmen.
“A ruse, Lieutenant, a ruseâ¦the fireship was nothing but a decoy, something to occupy our attention. The real target was the convoy,” the captain responded.
“Mr Dover.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Send a couple of boats with a squad of marines over to the convoy. We're probably too late to be of much help, but see what can be done.”
“Aye, Captain.”
BOOM!â¦A blinding flash and a deafening explosion filled the bay. The force of the explosion sent shockwaves across the anchorage and rocked
HMS Prudent
, throwing men against the rails and onto the deck. A few were thrown against the cannons they'd just fired. Cries of pain filled the air.
Lieutenant Duncan, with the help of a seaman, lifted their captain to his feet. His arm was dangling at an odd angle, obviously broken. Grimacing from the pain, the captain spoke. “A cunning soul, Mr Duncan, a cruel, devious, and cunning soul planned this. I'd not like to think what else lies in store.”
