The Seahorse (7 page)

If luck held out
Peregrine
would be able to intervene before the privateer's broadsides would be able to bear. As Gabe turned to step onto a ratline he saw something…a speck in the distance.

Stepping back up onto the platform he hissed, “Two ships! Close in company!”

He handed his glass to the lookout then cupped his hands and shouted, “Deck there! Two more sails aft. The last merchantman, she's under attack.”

Gabe slid down a backstay and dropped on deck, his hands burning from his rapid descent. “Fire off several red flares and be damn quick about,” he ordered.

“Mr Druett!”

“Aye, Cap'n.”

“Get the bow chasers into action as soon as possible.”

“Aye, Cap'n,” the gunner replied then rushed off.

“What a bloody scoundrel,” Lavery said. “Attacking
Alert
.”

“It's a decoy I'd bet,” Wiley volunteered. “Something to keep us busy. They knew we'd react to them attacking a smaller ship. Then once our attention is diverted they set the wolves loose upon the lambs.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Gabe said.

“Sorry sir,” Wiley said. “I didn't know you were within hearing.”

“I was and I agree.”

BOOM!...BOOM!...the bow chasers recoiled against the tackles as they were fired.

“Damme but Druett knows his business, Captain,” Lavery volunteered. “They fired quickly enough.”

Smoke from the bow chasers drifted down wind, filling the air with the stench of gunpowder.

From above the lookout called down, “She's broken off, sir. The privateer 'as come about.”

“Thank God,” Gabe said.

Druett made his way to the quarterdeck. “I couldn't tell if we hit anything Cap'n but we gave it our best try.”

Alert
was now almost up with
Peregrine
.

“Hear that Mr Druett? They're cheering you over there. So whether you hit the whoresons or not you scared them off. I'm betting there's many a soul on yonder ship who'd stand for you a wet.”

Embarrassed by the captain's praise, Druett said, “It weren't nothing Cap'n. Course if they're willing to buy, I'm willing to drink.”

Standing to the side, Lieutenant Wiley heard the exchange.
This captain was
different
, he thought.
The admiral was right. I'm glad I stayed
, he realized.

Chapter Ten

The island of Antigua seemed to rise up over the horizon with the early dawn light. The cry of “land ho” quickened everyone's step. Even Faith had shook the cobwebs from her sleepy head and made her way topside still bundled up with a thick robe. It had been two weeks since the clash with the privateers and eight weeks since they weighed anchor at Plymouth.

The privateers' raid had been unsuccessful.
Dasher
had run down the privateers, capturing one, an old twenty-eight-gun frigate, and run off the other ship. The frigate,
HMS
Lizard
, had been captured by the Colonies off Marblehead in 1776. Now she was back with the fleet—hopefully, a part of Anthony's squadron.

Antigua, Gabe had explained to Faith, was headquarters for the British Navy in the West Indies. It was here his brother and Lady Deborah had met and married. It had been a good time for him to get to know his brother as well. Deborah, he explained, held vast holdings here. This would be where she would stay with Deborah, at least until they found out how things were in Barbados.

As the island grew on the horizon Gabe realized he was glad to be back. He had missed the fellowship with the island's people who had opened their homes for all of “Lord Anthony's sailors” back in 1775. He looked forward to seeing Commodore Gardner and his wife, Greta. He smiled when he thought of Greta. How many times had she tried to play cupid for the young gentlemen and set them up with the young ladies? That was something he wouldn't share with Faith, he decided.

He'd already been given her glare when some well-endowed young lady caused his head to turn. “Get an eyeful?” she'd asked in a most unfriendly manner. He still looked but had learned to be discreet.
If God hadn't wanted him to look upon such beauty
he wouldn't have made it
, Gabe thought. However, it was a thought he kept to himself.

***

“Congratulations on a perfect landfall, Captain.”

“Thank you, My Lord.”

“Deck there! Ship of the line anchored off the headland.”

“That will be the flagship, no doubt,” Buck said.

“Aye,” Anthony replied. “It will be almost like homecoming, will it not, Captain?”

“Aye, My Lord, my mind traveled that same road. I wonder if a certain widow lady is still a widow.”

This caused Anthony to chuckle. “I'm sure you'll find out, Captain, I'm sure you'll find out.”

As the flagship rounded Cape Shirley, Anthony watched the men not on watch as they crowded the weather side. Some of them were clinging to the shrouds to get a better view.

“A pretty island is it not?” This coming from Lord Ragland. He had been a good traveling companion. He had dined with Anthony and Lady Deborah most evenings, along with Captain Buck. They had played cards frequently, always arguing who would have Lady Deborah as a partner. Her skill as a card player amazed Anthony.

“If we ever get short of funds,” he joked, “we'll invite the gentry over so you can fleece them.”

English Harbour is much hillier than I thought,” Ragland said. “I'd expected it to be flat.”

“Barbados will be,” Anthony explained.

“There's the flagship,” Bart said as he approached the group. “Gunports are open; they've a captain what cares about 'is men.”

“I don't understand,” Ragland said.

“It gets very hot and humid here so the tar will actually stick to your feet walking across the deck. Below decks can be unbearable. Therefore it's best for the men to rig awnings across the quarterdeck and by opening the gunports you can sometimes catch a good offshore breeze.”

“I see.”

“Mr Lamb.” Buck called to his first lieutenant.

“Aye, Captain.”

“Prepare the salute.” As an afterthought he added, “Clear those idlers off the side. This is a man o' war, not some grocery barge.”

Ragland nudged Anthony and smiled.

Seeing the smile Bart said, “Wonder who 'e got that from?”

No sooner had the eleven-gun salute ended when the lookout called down again, “Looks like a harbour full o' ships at anchor.”

Taking his glass, Buck steadied himself and looked, calling out what he saw. “Three Frenchmen. One of the monsieurs is flying a rear admiral's flag. There's two Spaniards. The harbour is full. Lighters and other craft plying back and forth.”

“Spying, damme, they know they're about to take up with the Colonies. So they're taking advantage of the neutrality to see what our strengths are, what convoys arrive, and where they go from here. They're not fooling me. Damn them I say and the Dagos with them.”

Anthony had never seen Lord Ragland so exasperated.

“'E can be a fireball 'e can,” Bart said, summoning up the incident. “Wonder 'e don't 'ave us loosen a broadside here and now to get it over like.”

“Aye,” Anthony agreed. “If we were in Barbados he might.”

***

The next week was one of reunions, a quickly thrown together reception for Lord Ragland and Lord Anthony. The French Admiral Jacques de Guimond along with his Flag Captain Riguad Devereux had also been invited for the reception. The French admiral had been somewhat reserved. He was very polite and diplomatic, refusing to be drawn into discussion in regards to the war with the Colonies. His comments were, “As you know, m'sieur, we are a neutral country.”

The day after the reception had taken place, Lord Anthony received a message from Lord Ragland requesting his presence. Anthony and Deborah were sitting on the veranda of the summer cottage where they had first made love. Deborah was saying the cottage was just the right size for her and Faith. There was also plenty of room for Nanny…and Lum if he chose to stay. Bart…Uncle Bart had just come to the door holding Macayla when the rider arrived.

It didn't take long for two horses to be saddled for Anthony and Bart to ride down the hill to English Harbour. Halfway down the hill Bart surprised Anthony with a sudden comment.

“Iffen we's ever beached, this wouldn't be a bad spot for it to happen.”

Anthony had never really considered any life but the sea. But Bart had struck a chord. “You're right old friend. It would be easy to live out our days here.”

“Like Commodore Gardner and 'is wife,” Bart said.

“Aye, like Commodore Gardner.”

After a pause, Bart then added, “But not yet.”

“No, not yet…after the war maybe but not yet.”

***

Government House stood at the top of the coast road only a hundred yards or so from where a launch was tied up, bobbing with the swell. Admiral Henry Teach was in the process of getting in a carriage for a quick trip up the hill.

A footman took Anthony's and Bart's horses while they made their way into the elegant, white building. Ground seashells crunched under their feet as they quickly walked down the path leading to the deep porch. The shade of the porch would offer relief from the sun's fierce rays.

A marine sergeant welcomed Lord Anthony but was not sure about Bart. Anthony looked at the sergeant and said, “Please find a suitable place for my cox'n to wait along with some cool refreshment.”

The marine gaped, not sure how to respond. Finally he muttered, “Lord Ragland awaits you, sir,” pointing to what had once been Gardner's old office. Then taking Bart in tow he made his way down a hall.

Anthony had barely the time to accept a glass of hock from one of the servants when Sir Henry showed up. Once the two admirals were seated with a glass, Lord Ragland opened a door to an adjoining room and a short, stocky individual entered. He was dressed much as a naval officer but without the apparent rank insignias.

“Gentlemen,” Ragland began, “let me introduce you to Sir Victor MacNeil. He is from his Majesty's Foreign Office. He has documents with him signed by Lord North that requires us to render assistance in anyway possible.”

“I will add,” Lord Ragland continued, “that I have known Sir Victor for many years and have found him to be a very capable man. Sir Victor, you have the floor.”

Stepping in front of the little used fireplace, Sir Victor raised his glass…after a momentary pause he said in a deep voice, “A toast gentlemen. To England…and death to the French.”

PART II

Left Her Crying

Left her crying on the pier

When we put out to sea.

Now every night I walk these decks

Cause I can't go to sleep.

Every time I close my eyes

I can see her face.

Makes me wonder if her love

Is nothing but a waste.

My heart is so empty

When she's not around.

But if she needed help

Where would it be found?

- Michael Aye

Chapter Eleven

Lord Anthony lay in his cot. The only sound was the rhythmic creaking of the ropes that attached to eyebolts in the overhead. The cot seemed empty and cold in spite of the heat. It was the first night since weighing anchor in Plymouth that he had slept alone. He already missed his wife and daughter more than he ever imagined.

Bart was right. Being on the beach was not that bad. He had saved enough prize money that he should be able to retire easily. Especially when combined with Deborah's holdings. Yes, Deborah's holdings. He had not as yet considered it his as most men would have done.

The sudden shrill of a boatswain's pipes broke Anthony's thoughts. The sound of the bosun mates could be heard as they aroused the sleeping men below deck.

“All hands rouse out, rouse out you lubbers. Lash and carry.”

The men below tumbled out of their hammocks quickly. The promise of being enlivened by the bosun mate's starter prevented most from being laggard. The cook lit the fires in the galley stove while the on duty watch was put to work. They rigged the pumps, and got out swabs, buckets, and holystones.

They scrubbed and washed down the deck then flogged them dry with swabs. Brick dust was used to polish the bright work. By seven o' clock, the crew was piped to a simple but filling breakfast of burgoo (coarse oatmeal) and coffee. Anthony could hear Silas scrambling around in the pantry preparing his breakfast.

“My Lord.” This was from Bart. “I's let you sleep longer than be usual. Yew seemed restless like.”

I must have been
, Anthony thought,
if Bart had come in without awakening him
.

“Lord Ragland, is he awake?”

“Aye,” Bart replied.

Anthony roused out of his cot and dressed quickly. He then looked at Bart and said, “Go topside and invite Buck and Lord Ragland to breakfast.”

“Aye,” Bart replied, easing the cabin door to as he left.

The breakfast consisted of coffee, cold cheese, pastries, and a discussion about the meeting with the foreign office agent, Sir Victor.

Sir Victor had given Sir Henry his orders recalling him to England. He alluded that it was just a normal rotation with Admiral Lord Anthony replacing him.

But in private Lord Ragland told Anthony otherwise. “British trade in the West Indies has been hit hard. To the point it's critical. Only twenty-five ships out of a convoy of sixty carrying provisions to the Caribbean arrived safely. The governor of Grenada sent a letter to Lord North stating that they would soon die of hunger if the losses were not stopped. Insurance rates have soared and the Admiralty has been bombarded with demands for protection. More than three hundred trading vessels have been captured…a good many by the daring privateer, Malachi Mundy.”

Gabe had met with him, Anthony recalled, but did not mention it.

Lord Ragland continued, “Sir Henry was being recalled due to his inability to stop the losses.”

Sir Victor had informed the group that it was now certain the French would enter the war…probably very soon after the New Year. He felt that Spain would soon join in as well. They had been secretly aiding the American privateer for a while now. “This has been confirmed by our agents,” he stated.

Sir Victor had then pointed out the window to the harbour that spread out below them. “Do you think the eighty-gun
Sceptre
is here for her health? Where did her consorts go?” He had been speaking of the
St. Michel
, a seventy-four, and
Toulon
of fifty guns.

“They're spying,” he exclaimed, “and there's not a damn thing we can do about it.”

***

At Port-au-Prince, Haiti, Paul de Verge sat behind his desk drinking a glass of wine. The wine was to steady him so that he would appear outwardly calm as he spoke to the man sitting across from him.

“So you failed,” he spat at the man. “You failed in the assassination attempt of Lord Anthony. You failed to capture any prizes from the convoy. You have failed me at every turn.”

“Bad luck,” the man across from de Verge said. “All bad luck. But we will eventually succeed in our goal.”

“You have the luxury to be patient,” de Verge responded. “I don't. The investors are screaming about the loss of the
Lizard
.”

“They've made a fortune under my guidance,” the man retorted.

Adam Montique was not a man used to being scolded like a child. He'd taken about as much as he intended from the little Frenchman that sat before him.

“I'm the one who risks his life. All you risk is a few dollars. You can tell your friends their financial resources have only been scratched by the loss of the
Lizard
. There are more than enough backers either here or on Guadalupe that are willing to undertake the cost of my enterprise. So tell your backers Adam Montique said they can all be damned.”

He then stood, and after a quick glare walked out of de Verge's office, leaving the small Frenchman grabbing for a handkerchief to wipe his brow.
Was it fear or the heat?
Perhaps both
, he thought as he filled his glass.

***

Barbados was the eastern most island of the Windward Islands. Compared to Antigua it was relatively flat and somewhat diamond shaped. Barbados gained its wealth from sugarcane plantations and the export of molasses and rum. Slaves had been imported to work the fields, which were very rich.

The cry “land ho” from one of the lookouts came as the sun had begun to bear down on the ships in Anthony's squadron. Gabe paced the quarterdeck of
Peregrine
. He was in an ill humour. Like his brother he'd rested badly the previous night…the first without Faith in some months. He'd awakened to the sound of a new temporary cabin servant. It had been decided the Lum would stay in Antigua with the women…a means of protection.

The new man was not Lum and he had never acted as a captain's servant, so he had to be told what to do at every turn. Dawkins had rolled his eyes more than once, amazed over the man's continuous mistakes. However, being a landsman, he would not be missed as much as a seaman would be when taken away from his daily duties. No, none of this is what caused Gabe's mood.

It was Faith. She had been sick every morning for the last three mornings they were at Antigua. The very mention of breakfast had caused her to turn green and rush out the door. By mid-day she seemed as rosy and healthy as she'd ever been. Gabe had wanted to send for the ship's doctor but Faith had refused.

Where the hell is Caleb?
Gabe thought, and then wondered if he'd be with Dagan in Barbados.
Would Dagan be there as he'd stated in the letter?

Before long Ragged Point became visible…they would be in Carlisle Bay soon. To the western end of Carlisle Bay was Bridgetown. It was here that Gabe had met Caleb and that damned ape, Mr Jewels. Gabe couldn't help but chuckle thinking of the antics that blasted creature had pulled.

“What was that, Captain?”

Gabe looked to see his first lieutenant speaking.

“It was nothing, Mr Lavery. I was just recalling Caleb and his ape.”

This brought a smile to Lavery's face. “Aye, Captain. I remember it well. I thought His Lordship would bust a gut with the damn monkey shrieking to high heaven as he climbed the riggings. He'd have been shot if Lord Hood had been awakened.”

“Aye, those were the days, Nathan…those were the days.” Glancing at his watch, Gabe said, “We've still got to pass South Point and Needham Point. I think I'll go below. Call me before we reach the bay.”

“Aye, Captain.”

As soon as Gabe disappeared through the companionway, Lieutenant Wiley approached Lavery. “What's this about an ape aboard Lord Anthony's ship?” Within a minute Wiley was laughing till he cried as Lavery told his story.

Word had rushed down the coast to Bridgetown that a British squadron was in the sighting. Having a wet at the Anchor and Plow, Dagan finished his drink. The tavern was one of the nicest on the island. The proprietor named his tavern to attract both the sea trade and that of the island planters. He had gotten wealthy in doing so and like many self-made men had little tolerance for lesser beings.

This morning had been particularly busy. The cook was a very smallish man, almost frail in appearance. He had been very busy when the owner arrived.

“Give me a cup of coffee now,” the owner ordered.

The cook rushed to do as he was bid. Upon delivering the cup of coffee the owner drank a swallow then tossed it on the floor.

“Clean that up, you idiot, then go get me a fresh cup of coffee…hot coffee. I like it hot.”

The little cook rushed back but the pot was empty and the other pot had not yet started to boil. “It will be a minute or two, sir,” the cook said in a very timid voice.

“Now damn it. I want some hot coffee now or so help me I'll throw you out on your arse, you little snit.”

The cook darted back into the kitchen embarrassed and mad as a hornet. He touched the coffee pot but it was not ready yet. Then he spied a bowl of jalapeno peppers he'd cut from the little vegetable garden he'd planted. He squeezed the juice of a couple into the empty coffee cup. He then filled the cup up with the still brewing coffee. He put it on a saucer and took it to the owner, who gulped it down. The man jumped up and ran to the water keg screaming profanities as his face turned red and sweat beaded up on his bald head.

The little cook slowly took off his apron, a look of satisfaction on his face. “You said you wanted it hot,” he quipped as he strode out the door.

Dagan threw some coins on the table and went out after him. “That was some trick mate. What did you put in his coffee?”

“Jalapenos,” the little cook said. “They're a very hot type of pepper.”

“I know about them. They've been around for centuries. My name is Dagan Dupree.”

“I'm Joshua Nesbit, but people call me Josh.”

“Well, Josh, what are you going to do now?”

“First, I'm going to sneak into the back room,” he said, pointing at the tavern. “My things are there. After that I'm not sure.”

Liking the little man, Dagan asked, “Ever been aboard a man o' war?”

“No. I hired on as a cook on a merchantman once but never a warship.”

“Well, come along with me and let's see if we can't find you a billet.”