The Seahorse (14 page)

Chapter Twenty

Sir Victor sat at a round table next to a window. The shutters were open, allowing a small zephyr to enter the dark tavern. Looking out the window the dockyard could be seen. A ship was being unloaded so that it could enter the dock for repairs. It was not one of Lord Anthony's ships. It was likely one that had been caught up in a squall and needed repairs before it could continue on.

There was no sign of battle so it had to be weather, Sir Victor concluded. A waiter brought his tankard of ale over with a promise that his meal would soon follow. Once the waiter was gone, Sir Victor turned back to look out the window. The breeze had picked up a bit and the smell of tar, turpentine, and cordage mingled with the distinct smell of the sea.

The waiter and a servant girl were now at the table. “I think you'll find the mutton very tasty,” the waiter volunteered. He turned and took a bowl of green peas and one of boiled squash from the girl. She then hurried off and quickly returned with a loaf of fresh baked bread, butter and a jar of lime marmalade.

Bowing as he backed away, the waiter said, “Just sing out if I can bring you anything else, sir.”

Sir Victor nodded his thanks, as he'd just placed a piece of warm buttered bread in his mouth.

Outside the window the sound from a party of seamen could be heard as they walked across the ground oyster and seashells that lined the path, making a crunching sound with every step. The men made a colorful group as each seemed to be dressed differently. Some wore broad striped trousers while others wore plain sailcloth. One had a fancy red waistcoat while the others wore ordinary blue jackets. All wore hats set at a jaunty angle with various colored handkerchiefs tied about their necks with pigtails hanging down.

There was something about these men that made Sir Victor think of the fiercely loyal Bart and Jepson. These were sailors off a warship. They had that certain air about them.
No wonder England ruled the sea
, Sir Victor thought.

After finishing his meal, Sir Victor made his way to the waterfront. Lord Anthony had promised a boat to pick him up about three o'clock. The squadron was to sail on the evening tide. Once they reached Barbados, Sir Victor would then take passage to Halifax. He'd asked for Captain Anthony but now was reluctant to separate the young captain from his bride after her recent ordeal.

However, duty and needs of the King came before personal life. Captain Anthony understood that. The boat was waiting with Captain Buck's cox'n, Tom Blood, at the tiller.

“A fine day is it not?” Sir Victor observed speaking to Blood.

“Aye, sir,” Blood replied. “The breeze has cooled things off a might so it's not too hot even for the middle of the afternoon. Lots better than the cold and rain back in Portsmouth.”

“Aye,” Sir Victor said, using the Navy lingo, “much preferable.”

***

Lord Anthony, Lady Deborah and Macayla were already aboard
SeaHorse
when Sir Victor arrived. Buck greeted the Foreign Service gentleman as he made his way through the entry port. A petty officer quickly hoisted Sir Victor's trunk aboard while Sir Victor and the captain were talking.

“His Lordship has extended an invitation to join him once you're settled in,” Buck said.

“Thank you, Captain,” Sir Victor replied. “But would I be in the way if I remained topside until we're underway.”

“No, you'd not be in the way,” Buck responded. “And you're welcome to watch from the advantage of the quarterdeck.”

“Thank you kindly, Captain.”

Sir Victor had already learned one didn't enter upon the quarterdeck without an invitation, so he felt privileged. What he did know was Captain Buck was just trying to give his admiral a little more time alone till Lady Deborah and the child were settled in.

“Mr Jepson,” Buck called to the master.

“Aye, Captain.”

“Would you say the tide has freshened so that we may get underway?”

“I would say so,” Jep replied.

Buck then called the midshipman in charge of signals. “Make signal, Mr Lewis. Prepare to weigh anchor.”

“Aye, sir,” the youth acknowledged as he ran to carry out his task.

“Mr Lamb.”

“Aye, Captain,” the first lieutenant answered.

“You may get us underway.”

“Aye, sir,” Lamb replied and then started barking out orders.

Pipes shrilled and the decks came alive as men ran to their stations, urged by shouts and curses from petty officers, each wanting their division to beat the others.

“Move you slack-arsed landsman. There's not a proper seaman in the lot of ye.”

“Move ya bloody whoreson,” the bosun yelled. “Evans, how long you been aboard this ship?”

A yelp of pain as the bosun's ratten hurried along a laggard.

“Stand by the capstan.”

Jepson crossed to Buck's side and said, “We'll have rain before Barbados, possibly a squall.”

Buck only nodded as he called out, “Mr Johns, a shanty if you please.”

“Aye, Captain,” the lieutenant replied, and then called for the fiddler.

The sound of the fiddle filled the air as Decker,
SeaHorse's
bosun, roared out, “Now me little sweethearts. Let's show the buggers on the hill what a sight it be to watch a man-o-war get underway.”

Looking, Sir Victor could indeed see a group of people had gathered to see the squadron weigh anchor and set sail.
How many of them are spies
? Sir Victor's suspicious mind wondered.

“Anchors hove short,” Lamb reported to Buck, who only nodded.

Lamb lifted his speaking trumpet and ordered, “Loose head sails.”

Jepson had made his way back to the big double wheel, watching. His eyes were on the canvas sails that were flapping and cracking as they filled with the wind.

“Be ready,” he warned the helmsman.

“Lay a course to take us from the harbour and to Barbados,” Buck ordered the master.

As the sails filled and the ship began to move, Lamb lifted his trumpet again, “Loose topsails.” Like thunder the great sails billowed out.

“Anchors aweigh, sir,” Meriweather cried out from the fo'c'sle.

Clank, clank, clank. The sound was coming from the capstan as it pulled the hidden anchor from its depths.

“Get the courses on her?” Lamb asked Buck somewhat timidly.

“Aye,” Buck replied not wanting to embarrass the first lieutenant.
He knows what to do
, Buck thought,
so why does he always ask…a quiet conversation for later.

“Mr Lamb.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Let's have the topgallants on her once we clear the harbour.”

“Aye, sir.”

The anchor was now clear of the water and Decker could once again be heard from near the capstan. “Carter, you grog faced villain, heave.”

The men put their backs into it and with a final heave the anchor dangled like a great pendant just below the cathead. “Heave, you blood bullocks.” And the anchor was catted home.

Sir Victor watched from his vantage point on the quarterdeck as the people on the hill got smaller and finally vanished. He sat there a while longer, wondering how many times ships such as this weighed anchor leaving loved ones behind, often never to be heard from again.
Damme, but I'm getting soft
, he thought. But still he looked at those who chose the sea in a new light.

For the remainder of the afternoon,
SeaHorse
and her consorts drove steadily through the warm Caribbean Sea, but overhead the sky was changing. Dark clouds now blotted out the sun and the seas had picked up as the wind increased. Feeling the increase in the sea, Lord Anthony came on deck as Jepson was telling Buck it wouldn't hurt to put another helmsman on the wheel.

“I feel we'll have to reduce sail,” Buck said, seeing his admiral.

Anthony nodded in acknowledgment, the wind already making it difficult to speak.

The squall came ten minutes later. It was accompanied with a heavy rain as black clouds filled the horizon. Looking aft, Anthony could see the rest of the ships in his squadron.

“They are all on station,” Buck shouted. “For now.”

“How's our heading?” Buck asked Jepson.

“Fine so far, winds steady sou-sou-east, but the barometer is on the rise.”

To mark the master's words, the wind shifted causing the wet sails to flap.

“Mr Lamb,” Buck called.

“Aye, sir.”

“Man the braces. If the wind continues we'll be taken aback.”

“Aye, sir.”

The bosun had no sooner piped all hands and the yards were braced around when the perverse wind shifted back to the southwest creating another evolution. Looking aft once more Anthony was alarmed to find the sky was so thick and dark that he couldn't see anything beyond a cable's length.

Sir Victor was feeling the effects of the weather as well. He turned to go below only to stagger as the ship crashed through a rogue wave. He caught hold of a ratline to keep from falling onto the heaving deck. As he righted himself, a gust of wind plucked his hat from his head. Tom Blood, standing next to his captain, saw the hat in the air and gave a leap, catching it just before it flew over the side.

“Damme, what a catch,” Buck said, patting his cox'n on the shoulder.

“Thank you, thank you kindly,” Sir Victor said, wiping the wet cocked hat with his handkerchief. “It's a new one. I should have known better than to wear it on deck.”

Blood offering his arm for Sir Victor to steady himself said, “I always look to the captain. If his noggin is covered I wears me hat. Otherwise I don't.”

“I'll take your advice,” Sir Victor said as he made it through the companionway.

Bart had made his way topside with Anthony's tarpaulin. The wind roared and the rain now came down in torrents.

Smiling at Jepson, Bart said, “Looks like we're in for a deyluge.”

Anthony, finally getting his coat buttoned up, asked, “Pray tell, where you got that idea?”

“From seeing all the water what's running down the scuppers, that's where.”

Bart was right. Water flooded over the scuppers and at times was sloshing over the coamings and down through the hatches to the decks below.

SeaHorse
drove through the gale. The sails had now been reduced to foresail and topsails. Once the sails were set the men were sent below unless they had the watch. They were tired and wet but at least they were out of the wind.

The officers stood on the quarterdeck as the thunder rolled through the sky and streaks of lightning pierced the dark clouds, darting in every direction.

Buck turned to Anthony and said, “There is no need for you to remain on deck, My Lord. I'm sure Lady Deborah is at her wits end with the gale. You should go below. We will call you if we need you.”

“Aye, Rupert. I think I will.”

Anthony made his way down the quarterdeck ladder and steadied himself by holding onto a shroud as the ship was rolled by a huge wave. Still holding onto the shroud, Anthony put his other hand on a cannon as he righted himself, drenched to the bone. At this moment a tremendous noise was heard aloft and a shock was felt throughout the ship.

Lightning had struck the ship at the main top and ran down the wet lines in every direction, leaving a trail of smoke drifting off the lines. A loud shriek was heard as those on the quarterdeck could see Lord Anthony being shocked with the lightning running from the shrouds through His Lordship and into the heavy metal cannon. Without thinking, Jepson jumped from the quarterdeck and hit Lord Anthony squarely, knocking him loose from the line he'd been gripping.

A trembling sensation shook the ship and cries of alarm was heard as the topmast exploded from the continuous bolt after bolt of lightning hitting it, showering the deck with splinters and debris. Smoke filled the main decks and seamen came rushing up through the hatches, fear on their faces.

Silas and Lady Deborah rushed out through the companionway only to come to a sudden stop as they saw Lord Anthony lying on the deck. Smoke was coming from his hair and the soles of his boots. One sole had curled away at the seams. Jepson rose from the deck, bruised with blood dripping from his broken nose. Bart knelt down and picked up his admiral and carried him to the bed in his cabin while Buck sent for the surgeon.

Lady Deborah wiped the tears from her eyes and was led by Silas back to the cabin. Lieutenant Hazard made his way from the wardroom into the admiral's cabin just as Bart laid Anthony down on his cot. Hazard took Lady Deborah's hand at the point and Silas went to help Bart undress Anthony. Little Macayla slept the innocent sleep of a child.

On deck, the sun reappeared as the clouds and the rain went away. But still a cloud hung over
HMS
SeaHorse
as the ship sailed on toward Barbados.

Chapter Twenty-one

With a warm fresh breeze Lord Anthony's squadron made good time heading to Barbados. The crew now over the shock of being hit by lightning went about their duties in a relieved if not cheerful manner.

“It was on a whaler,” Decker was saying. “A bolt hit the mainmast and traveled the length of the ship—down every shroud and backstay from stem to stern. Every line was scorched. The ringbolts were seared, leaving charred marks in the deck. The lookout in the crosstrees lived but was never the same again. Burnt the hair slam offen his head. No eyebrows either. Always seem to be staring off into the distance, he did.”

Lieutenant Johns had the watch. It was make and mend; otherwise he'd have busted up the group. He didn't know if Decker's story was true or not but he was sure every man jack would tell the story again, adding to what happened to the admiral. Seamen were a superstitious lot and if Lord Anthony pulled through this they'd say he was lightning proof.

As soon as the seas had calmed down, Buck had signaled
Peregrine
to close with the flag and captain to repair on board. Dagan must have known something was amiss as he accompanied Gabe after the ships had hove to. Gabe made it quickly to his brother's side after a brief conversation with Captain Buck, who briefly explained what happened.

The ship's surgeon was about to perform a bloodletting to relieve the vapours that the lightning had caused. Seeing the man's instruments Dagan said, “No,” in a very firm voice.

“Now see here man.” The surgeon started to protest the intrusion, but as the surgeon looked into Dagan's cold black eyes, the objection died without completion.

The sleeping quarters were very dark so Dagan opened the gallery windows and skylight. Almost like a miracle, once the light filled the cabin Anthony stirred. A groan, then a stretching and with that he opened his eyes.

Looking about him, Anthony spoke, “My head feels like it's been hit by a broadside.”

Unable to control her emotions, Lady Deborah burst out in tears but a smile was on her face. Bending over she showered Anthony with one kiss after another. “My darling, we were worried so.”

“What…what happened?” Anthony asked.

Bart explained how lightning had hit the fore-topmast, a long continuous bolt that traveled the entire ship.

“Was anyone hurt?” was Anthony's first question.

“Only you, My Lord.” This from Captain Buck, who had entered and had his hand on Gabe's back.

Dagan turned to leave the now cramped sleeping quarters. In doing so he came eye to eye with Gabe. He still had a concerned look.

“He'll live,” Dagan whispered as he made his way out of the cabin.

Seeing Dagan depart, Bart followed. Once on deck Bart offered Dagan a clay pipe and tobacco as he dug out his own pipe. Seeing the two light up, Lieutenant Johns started to protest but remembering previous warnings from Captain Buck, closed his trap. After all it was make and mend.

***

Bart entered Lord Anthony's cabin wiping his face with his handkerchief. “We're just past South Point,” he said, informing Anthony as to their position.

“If you will be so kind,” Anthony said, speaking to Hazard, his flag lieutenant. “Give my compliments to the flag captain and let him know I'd like to speak with him as soon as convenient.”

“Aye, My Lord.” Hazard answered and made his way to the quarterdeck.

Soon the marine sentry stamped the deck with his musket and announced, “Flag captain, suh.”

“Carlisle Bay is in sight,” Buck said upon entering. That was Buck's way of informing Anthony the visit would have to be brief.

Coming to the point, Anthony said, “About Jepson, how is he doing?”

“He's doing well, My Lord. You know his kind. Tough as English oak.”

“Aye,” Anthony said. “I would like to do something for him but I confess I don't know what to do.”

“I'm not sure he expects anything,” Buck replied.

“I know, but for his quick thinking I could have been fried to a crisp.”

A knock at the door and once again the marine sentry stamped his musket and announced, “Midshipman of the watch, suh.”

“Lieutenant Lamb's compliments, sir,” the midshipman said, addressing Captain Buck. “We're entering the bay, sir.”

“Very well,” Buck replied. “I'll be up directly.” Turning to Anthony, Buck said,“Nervous.”

“The lad?” Anthony questioned.

“No, Lieutenant Lamb. He knows what to do but is hesitant to act without my approval,” Buck said in disgust. “Gawd help the ship if I fall.”

“Maybe you should take him aside,” Anthony said. Then as an afterthought, he added, “Maybe you should become suddenly ill the next time we weigh anchor. He'll then have to sink or swim.”

“And if he sinks?” Buck questioned.

“Then he doesn't need to be the first lieutenant,” Anthony replied in a matter-of-fact way. “We can't let one person endanger the entire ship.”

“Aye, you're right, My Lord. I may have Jepson speak with him.”

“Not a bad idea,” Anthony replied. “Now be on deck with you. I'll come up directly.”

***

Sir Victor was on deck when Anthony appeared.

“My Lord,” he said. “It's good to see you doing so well.”

“Thank you,” Anthony replied. “It appears we are approaching the anchorage.”

Taking a deep breath, Sir Victor said, “I can smell the shore.”

As they looked towards the shore the beach and palm trees were clearly visible. The sea had turned to a pale green as the water shallowed.

“Eight fathoms,” someone forward cried out.

Seeing the questioning look on Sir Victor's face, Anthony explained, “They're checking the depth.”

Nodding his understanding, Sir Victor replied, “It wouldn't do to run aground, would it?” Glancing about the ship he spoke again, “The men seem to have gotten cleaned up.”

Anthony saw that most of the crew had freshly shaven faces. Their hair was pulled back into neatly tied queues, most with black ribbon but blue and red was also noted. Clean trousers and shirts had been adorned.

“The lure of Bridgetown,” Anthony said by way of explanation. “Local rum by the barrel and willing trollops. A sailor's dream, sir.”

A midshipman approached Anthony. “Yes?” Anthony asked, not waiting for the youth to beg his pardon.

“Captain's compliments, sir, and we're about to begin the salute.”

“Thank you, young sir.”

Then turning to Sir Victor, Anthony said, “I shall go to my cabin and make preparations for going ashore.”

“And I as well,” Sir Victor replied.

Before returning to his cabin Anthony turned once more to Sir Victor, “When do you anticipate leaving for Halifax?”

After a pause, Sir Victor replied, “I will have to talk to Lord Ragland first to be for sure but I'd not think it would be till after Christmas…possibly after the first of the New Year.”

Once back in his cabin, Anthony could see that Lady Deborah had Silas and the lone servant girl busy. It amazed him how much it took for women to make themselves presentable. She had four trunks with her and would have had double that had he not brought up the lack of space. Of course, one was for Macayla…or so Deborah said.

“Surely you don't need all that,” he said.

“Surely you don't want me dressed like some tavern wench.”

Trying to be coy, Anthony had responded, “Well, there's some what'll turn a head.”

“Yes, I've seen your head turn enough to know,” she chided. “Don't think I've forgotten how your eyes bugged out at some of Greta's parties.”

“I only look at what's being presented,” Anthony said in defence. “The more that's shown, the more I look. Seems like I recall that certain green dress you wore…now that one near took my breath away.”

“Gown…it was a gown. It was meant to get your blood running.”

“Damme, if it didn't do its job too,” Anthony replied. He then put his arms around his wife and pulled her to him. “Maybe it's time for a little more thunder and lightning.”

“Hush,” she hissed. “The servant will hear you.” But a smile filled her face. “Who knows what might take place tonight.”

“A date it is, madam,” Anthony said as he took a step back and gave an exaggerated bow.

Standing over next to the pantry, Silas shook his head.
Teeched! Damned if that lightning bolt didn't fry something in His Lordship's head. Wonder iffen 'is lightning rod is still working proper like
, Silas thought to himself with a smirk on his face.