The Seahorse (17 page)

PART III

The Gun Captain

The cap'n yells, “Fire!”

The guns leap as one.

Round after round,

We worked 'um 'till we's numb.

I smells the stench o' powder,

I's blinded by the smoke.

It hurts me chest to breathe,

It makes me cough and choke.

I felt the ship shudder,

They's scored another hit.

A gun be overturned;

The mainmast is split.

Broadside after broadside,

That last un were the worst.

I see the chaplain praying,

I 'urd the bosun curse.

I steals a look about me,

So many mates lay dead.

The thunder from the guns,

Echoes thru me head.

I 'ear the word, “Cease fire.”

Yonder ship 'as struck.

I give a sigh and wipes me face,

A victory cheer goes up.

Michael Aye

Chapter Twenty-four

Josiah Nesbit stepped from the pantry and peered at the untouched breakfast on the cabin table. Strewn next to the empty coffee cup were sheets of paper discussing the new gun, the carronade. The captain seemed to be much impressed with the guns. He'd spent a lot of time pouring through the sheets. He'd explained to Sir Victor how they could really be an advantage to a frigate.

Well, Nesbit knew nothing of naval warfare. He was, however, very pleased with his present position…berth. Paco had said it was a berth, not a position. Captain Anthony was an easy taskmaster. Once one got used to all the bells and pipes it seemed to grow on you. He wouldn't care to be a jack tar mind you. No, that was not his sort. However, being a gentleman's gentleman it would be rare indeed to improve on Captain Anthony.
I must remember to thank Dagan
, he thought. He certainly rescued me from the illiterate lout I'd been working for.

Overhead the air was alive with the noise and hustle bustle of a ship getting underway. It all seemed so strange to Nesbit that out of such apparent utter chaos and confusion order actually existed. Paco had said it was because I'm a landsman…meaning I'm the opposite of a seaman. Nesbit had asked and Paco had confirmed.

The miles of cordage, each mast, spar, and sail played a different yet distinctive and important part of the ship's ability to sail and maneuver. He was learning under the polite tutelage of Paco, Dagan, and even the captain at times.

Standing beneath the skylight, Nesbit could hear the unmistakable sound of the fiddle blaring out a shanty. The men are going to raise the anchor so it's time to leave…to get underway would be the seaman's term he thought, trying his best to get a firm hold of the lingo that was so much a part of his new world.

Once back in the pantry, Nesbit shook the coffee pot. Still enough for a last cup and it was not cold. It was surprising how long the hot bricks kept things warm. One of the oddities was you never knew when the captain would be ready to eat…or when he'd be able to finish a meal without being summoned.

Taking the pot and a clean cup, Nesbit headed topside. Seeing his servant, Gabe walked over to meet him. “You must be a mind reader,” he said as Nesbit filled the cup.

“It's warm, not hot sir.”

“It'll be fine,” Gabe replied. As he smelled the coffee, his stomach growled. Smiling, Gabe touched it with his free hand. “I should have eaten this morning.”

“Yes sir. One must eat to keep his strength up. There's some sliced beef and some bacon. I could fix it for you, sir.”

“Aye, I'd be grateful. The bacon will do I think.”

Nodding his understanding, Nesbit rushed below.

It was a bright morning. The hills past Bridgetown looked very green. Gabe glanced toward the flagship. He could not see his brother but there was little doubt he wasn't watching…thinking. They were to escort three fat transports, one of which carried the carronades for Lord Howe. The other two were full of supplies for the troops. They'd been transported a long way and now they had another two thousand miles to go.
How
, he wondered,
could England expect to maintain such a long supply chain
?
Half would never reach the destination
.

Damn all politicians
, he thought for about the hundredth time.
Well, you can bet with all the miles between here and New York they'd be challenged…would he
make the trip there and back with his crew intact? Would all the transports make it with the needed supplies?
Questions, questions, questions but rarely the answers.

Standing next to the companionway were Dagan and Paco, both of them watching Gabe. Each with different thoughts.

“He takes it personal,” Paco said, “like he's responsible for everyone.”

“As his father and brother did and they were both made admiral.”

“Aye,” Paco said, “if he lives.”

“He'll live,” Dagan responded. “I'll see to it or die trying.”

“As will I, amigo,” Paco said, meaning it.

Glancing toward Lieutenant Lavery, Gabe said, “I shall go below and break my fast.”

“Aye, Captain.”

As he headed below he motioned for Dagan to follow. Nesbit had the bacon, fresh bread, and a pastry waiting when the two made it to the cabin. Gabe had eaten his fill while Dagan snacked on one of Nesbit's mouth-watering pastries. The meal had been washed down by a lemon-lime juice mixture with just enough sugar to remove the tartness.

A knock at the door and the marine sentry announced, “Midshipman Ally, sir.”

Standing there with his hat in his hand, the youth was staring at the remaining pastry.

“Well?” Gabe asked.

Ally cleared his throat and reported, “Mr Lavery's respects, sir, and the transports have weighed anchor.”

“Very well, I'll go up.” Gabe then paused and with a wink at Dagan. He turned back to the boy, patting his stomach. “Mr Ally, I would take it amiss if I returned and found yonder pastry still on the plate.”

“Aye, sir,” Ally exclaimed, his eyes lighting up.

Later, reporting back on deck, Lieutenant Lavery said, “I was beginning to think about sending the master-at-arms in search of you, young sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now go report to Lieutenant Davy. I'm sure he's tired of doing your duties.”

“Aye, sir,” the youth said as he turned to find Lieutenant Davy.

“Mr Ally.”

Slowly the boy turned again, “Yes, sir.”

“Wipe the crumbs from your mouth.”

Overhearing the conversation, Gunnells couldn't help but chuckle. Lieutenant Lavery turned, a stern look on his face, but seeing the master's face he couldn't help but laugh as well.

***

“Breeze is a might brisk this morning,” Gunnells spoke, seeing the captain. Taking the hint from the master's comment, Lieutenant Lavery turned.

“Signal from flag, sir. Smooth sailing. We've acknowledged.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. You may get us underway.”

“Aye, Captain,” Lavery responded. Then turned and cried out, “Hands aloft, loose topsails.”

It never ceased to amaze Gabe how quickly the men went about their duties. Sign of a good first lieutenant. He would never admit it was a sign of a good captain.

“Permission to gain the quarterdeck.” This was from Sir Victor. He was learning as well. To stride upon the quarterdeck was at the captain's permission only, something he'd previously learned when Dagan had taken him aside after his first breach of etiquette. Looking aloft, Sir Victor watched as the seamen fairly ran up the shrouds and out onto the swaying yards. Never a man for heights, it made him nervous to think he'd have to go aloft. Quickly canvas fell loosely from the yards and a vibration was felt in the deck planking.

“Man the braces,” Lieutenant Lavery bellowed out. From forward the cry of anchor's aweigh.

“Free o' the lands,” Gunnells volunteered.

Indeed they were, Sir Victor realized as the wind filled the sails and the ships gained speed, quickly outpacing the transports.

“Make signal to the transport,” Gabe ordered Lavery, “make haste. No need for them to think we will be easy.”

“Aye Captain,” Lavery said with a grin. He knew as well as the captain it was best to assert authority from the beginning. Complain they might but comply they must. Especially with the admiral likely watching.

Gabe watched as Barbados and Faith slipped slowly astern. “Until I return,” he whispered to himself, “until I return.”

“Mr Lavery.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Once we clear Carlisle Bay, signal
Dasher
and
Alert
to take station to windward.”

“Aye, sir.”

Turning back to Sir Victor, Gabe said, “A fine morning is it not, sir?”

“Aye, Captain, that it is,” Sir Victor replied, feeling somewhat happy to be back at sea with Gabe again.

“Would you join me for dinner tonight?” Gabe asked.

“I'd be pleased, sir. Your servant sets a fine table.”

Watching the ships sail off, Faith sat in Governor Ragland's carriage with Lum by her side. When they disappeared over the horizon, she turned to Lum. “Let's go.”

Lum paused before climbing aboard the driver's seat. “He'll be all right, Missy. Captain Gabe can take care of hisself. 'Sides he's got Dagan wid him.”

“I know,” Faith said. “I just don't know what I'd do if something were to happen.”

“It won't,” Lum replied reassuredly. “It won't because we's 'll pray the Lawd be wid him till he comes back.”

“I'll pray,” she said. “Every night I'll pray.”

Chapter Twenty-five

Guard boat approaching, sir.”

Gabe had seen it approaching but his mind was elsewhere. They had made excellent time since weighing anchor in Barbados. The weather had held with warm days until the last day when there was some briskness in the air. “No squalls,” Gunnells had said. “Neither privateer nor perversity of the elements. A fine cruise indeed.”

Gabe had already sent a midshipman to rouse Sir Victor and let him know they were approaching the anchorage. In the distance Gabe could make out a two-decker with an admiral's flag flying from the mizzenmast. Shifting his gaze back to the guard boat, Gabe could see a lieutenant in the bow instead of a flag to mark where
Peregrine
would anchor. Gabe barked out orders to reduce all sail and heave to rather than proceed to the anchorage. The guard boat was finally alongside and Lieutenant Lee from Admiral Graves's staff came aboard.

“Did you not come in contact with the patrol frigate?” the lieutenant asked, full of self-importance.

“We've seen no ship since leaving Barbados,” Gabe snapped back.

“Egads,” the lieutenant replied. “A whole convoy has apparently slipped past the patrol ship. Admiral Graves shan't be happy about this. Probably out chasing a prize, I'd think.”

Gabe didn't give a damn what the man thought as long as he remembered he was talking to a senior officer and got to the point.

“You were not to know of course,” the lieutenant said with an irritated gesture. But seeing Gabe's frown continued, “Well…ahem…you, of course, could not know but the Army is covering the evacuation of the city. Philadelphia will soon fall.”

Gabe was shocked.
What would his brother think of this news? What would be his reaction?

Sir Victor took advantage of the pause and addressed the lieutenant. “Now see here, young sir. I have business with the commander-in-chief. Could you tell me where he might be found?”

Sensing this was an important man, not merely a naval officer, Lieutenant Lee answered in a more differential manner. “Lord Howe and several other senior officers are at Halifax I'm told, sir.”

“Very well,” Sir Victor answered curtly. “I will require you to take me to see Admiral Graves. There you'll stand by to return me to this vessel if required.”

Gabe couldn't help but smile. Sir Victor's orders could not be refused and requiring the young lieutenant to provide transport would save his sailors the effort. As Lee turned to go down to the waiting cutter, Gabe stopped him.

“Tell me Lieutenant, did Admiral Graves issue instructions regarding the transports, or am I to guess?”

“Ah…forgive me, Captain. They are to be escorted to Halifax.”

“Thank you,” Gabe replied but swore under his breath. He'd found from experience the coast of Nova Scotia was a haven for privateers. Waiting for Sir Victor to return, Gabe signaled for all captains to repair on board. Passing Gunnells on his way to his cabin, he heard the master tell Lieutenant Lavery, “Knew it was too damn good to be true.”

***

Gabe offered the captains a glass of claret as they seated themselves around the cabin's table. He noticed Taylor had on a jacket. It was cool Gabe realized and would be colder where they were going if the privateers didn't heat things up a might.

“So,” Ford said, “another leg to the journey.”

“So it seems sir,” Gabe replied.

Smiling the jovial man said, “Just adds to the cost of transportation.”

This brought a chuckle from the rest of the men at the table. A knock at the door and the sentry announced, “Sir Victor.”

Sir Victor bowed to Gabe but didn't take a chair. “As a matter of convenience I signed for your sailing orders.” Everyone's attention was now on the foreign office agent. “I have not read your orders, of course, but I believe it was Admiral Graves wish that we sail on the tide.”

“Yes, well let's not disappoint the admiral. Gentlemen let's return to our ships and pray for continued luck.”

Sir Victor stood to the side and let the transport captains file out. As Markham and Taylor approached the cabin entrance Sir Victor said, “A word, please.”

Once the cabin was empty, except for the naval officers, Sir Victor began, “Things are bad…worse than we knew. Burgoyne has surrendered at Saratoga. Washington's men have surrounded both Philadelphia and New York. Raiders and privateers are overwhelming our convoys and confounding our every effort.”

“I thought we were winning all the battles,” Taylor spoke out.

“We are, but you can win pitched battles and lose a war. Our generals still refuse to admit the Colonies' tactics of hit and run warfare will win out. They forget these tactics were perfected during the Seven Year War…or as the Colonies called it, the French and Indian Wars.” Sir Victor paused, cleared his throat, and continued. “Admiral Graves has warned us to sail with caution. Several privateers, including the rebel John Paul Jones, are attacking every convoy that comes this way. From here to Nova Scotia according to Admiral Graves is filled with a labyrinth of waterways the enemy uses to its full advantage. Inlets and coves provide the perfect hiding place so that when a convoy passes they dart out and take what they can. They then return where no King's ship would dare.”

“Sounds like General Washington has his share of spies,” Taylor quipped. Then seeing the look he got from Gabe he added, “No offense intended, sir.”

“None taken,” Sir Victor replied then continued. “Admiral Graves has entrusted us with dispatches for Lord Howe.” To emphasize this, he lifted the leather satchel that filled his hand. The bulging weight at the bottom gave evidence of its significance. All knew it was to be tossed overboard at all cost if it looked like the ship was to be taken.

“Captain Markham and I have first hand knowledge of the capabilities of these…” he paused trying to remember the term he had heard. “These Yankee seaman,” Gabe finished. “A fearsome lot who know the sea. I'll expect the worst and not be surprised if we get it.”

Feeling the ship rock slightly and hearing the water slap against the hull, Gabe said, “Another drink, then let's be about it. Nesbit.”

“Coming, sir. Something a little warmer, perhaps, such as a brandy.” Seeing the appreciative look from the officers gathered, Nesbit knew he was right on time with the recommendation.

***

The convoy was on its way by dusk. The temperature was dropping considerably as the sun went down. Lieutenant Davy had the watch. Like the rest who'd sailed this area he was concerned about the privateers. Not apprehensive, just concerned. Unlike a lot of what the master called young snot-nosed lieutenants, he'd been baptized by the fire of enemy cannons. The crew knew this and thereby trusted and respected the young officer.

Since the duel, the respect had turned into something close to hero worship. Their lieutenant had fought a duel without so much as raising a sweat. Regular fire-eater Mr Davy was…firm but fair. Not a flogging in his division. There'd only been two floggings since leaving England. Both were for drunkenness, something the captain couldn't tolerate at sea. “Port is the place for pleasure. Not at sea when your mate's life may depend on you being alert,” the captain had said.

Having finished his evening meal, Lieutenant Wiley came on deck. He'd found Lieutenant Davy a wealth of information. Not gossip but information. He'd been surprised that Davy had been with Captain Anthony since they were both midshipmen. It was not unheard of for two officers to be together that long but it wasn't that common either.

The quartermaster turned the ship's glass and the ship's bell rang out four times. Calling to a seaman, Davy ordered him aloft and when the watch aloft gained the deck, he told him to go get a cup of coffee if any was left. “I don't like to keep a lookout aloft for too long if I can help it,” Davy said. “After a while they're more concerned with themselves and the cold than what is around them.”

“Aye,” Wiley agreed. Something he'd learned as a midshipman after being mast headed for skylarking. After a time he'd lost all concern about what was around him and started daydreaming and planning what he'd do when he was allowed to come down.

Through the skylight the sound of laughter could be heard along with the pleasant smell of pipe tobacco.

“Used to have music a lot of nights before Lum decided to stay ashore with the captain's wife,” Davy volunteered. “Now Lum can play a tune, be it on a flute, fiddle or this stringed instrument he has. I miss his music,” Davy said, remembering the nights he'd fallen asleep listening to Lum's ballads.

“What about Dagan?” Wiley asked. “I've heard different stories but no one is sure what his position is. Course I ain't asked the first lieutenant.”

“Dagan is the captain's uncle and his protector. This has to do with their culture. The captain's mother was a gypsy. But while the captain doesn't hide it, I wouldn't mention it none. When we were midshipmen…the captain and me, Dagan was rated as a top man under Lord Anthony. He was a captain then.”

Davy then told of Dagan's intervention with the sadistic Lieutenant Witzenfeld and then saving the captain's life when Drakkar fought the
Reaper
. Wiley was mesmerized when he finished.

“Once the captain was given his first ship…a brigantine,
HMS SeaWolf
she were, Dagan went aboard with him and since he's just been...Dagan. But when they's trouble about, Dagan will know fore it happens,” Davy almost whispered.

“Mr Davy.”

The two lieutenants jumped not expecting anyone at that time of the night to be on the quarterdeck.

“Evening Dagan,” Davy replied. “Need some fresh air do you?”

“No,” Dagan said. “But something is in the air. I feel it in my bones.” He then ducked as he went through the companionway.

“Damme,” whispered Wiley.