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The deck was soaked in blood. The pirates were in a frenzy and had not only killed but had mutilated the bodies. The ship owner’s wife, “Lady Deborah McKean,” had been forced to watch as her husband and servant girl were murdered. The servant girl had been stripped, repeatedly raped, then had her breasts cut off. Two pirates had joked as they fondled the breasts, remarking on what fine “purses” they’d make.

Anthony had inquired, “Is the lady well?”

“Aye,” replied Earl. “As good as she can be after that.”

“Gutted Lord McKean like a mackerel,” Gabe had said.

“It’s a good thing we arrived when we did. Otherwise…The surgeon is doing what he can for the survivors now, sir,” Gabe volunteered.

“Good,” said Anthony. “When they’re able to be moved, have them brought on board
Drakkar
.”

***

Anthony walked to the starboard side rail. He’d heard the quartermaster’s whisper to warn the watch “cap’n on deck.” Anthony peered over the rail and into the Caribbean waters. The sparkle of the phorphorus on the black water, with the moon shining down, made him melancholy. It had only been thirty-six hours or so since they’d engaged the pirates and captured the two schooners. Time had been taken to make needed repairs before proceeding on to Antigua. The sound of the carpenter’s saws and hammer still seemed to vibrate in Anthony’s head. Looking aft, he could barely see the nearest prize as it followed in
Drakkar
’s wake. From the time Lady McKean had come on board he’d felt a strange tightness in his chest. It was like something he’d never experienced. He was uneasy with this new sensation. He was a King’s officer, and shouldn’t be moping like a schoolboy. The poor woman had gone through so much. He should be feeling sorry for her—feeling sympathy. But dammit, she stirred him, and they’d barely even spoken. As would be expected, he offered her his cabin—a gesture appropriate for a lady of her status. It was the least he could do given the tragedy and horror she had just experienced. Silas had fussed over her proper like. She had been Anthony’s dinner guest this evening. Silas had prepared a simple, but tasty supper, the first they had taken together since she came aboard
Drakkar.

Silas first served a light wine with cheese and nuts to create the appetite. He then brought out a ragout of pork, carrots, and pureed potatoes. The butter was starting to taste a little old but it was still good with the bread Silas had kept warm by putting a hot block wrapped in a cloth next to it. Anthony knew he was doing his best to impress the lady when for dessert he surprised them with a dish of his special apple tarts. These were almost as famous as his coffee and the two went well together.

The meal had been very subdued—polite, but quiet. Yet there was something there, drawing him to her. He could still smell the faint odor of her perfume as it lingered on the night air intermingled with the familiar scents of the sea. Anthony found himself peering aft again. Buck had taken command of the barque. Mr. Earl had one schooner, and Gabe—with a master’s mate—had the other.

What a sight they would make entering harbor. The
Royal Chatham
would be recognized immediately. This would start tongues wagging. He could envision the signals from the flag officer already. Questions would certainly be raised. Was it simply bad luck the
Royal Chatham
would fall into the clutches of two pirates working together? Some would wonder if there might be an accomplice ashore—a traitor, who had sent word so that the pirates would be lying in wait for the barque and its rich cargo. Someone who was getting rich from his share of the booty, but without endangering himself in open battle. If there were such a person, he was obviously shrewd, and dangerous. Anthony’s mind drifted back to the “prizes” and Gabe.

Gabe had reported a large sum of gold, silver and jewels, as well as other valuables, in the captain’s cabin on board the schooner he had boarded. Anthony
couldn’t help but feel some of the “treasure” may not have made it aboard
Drakkar
. When Gabe had been asked how much loot had been found, his answer seemed somewhat evasive—“too much to count sir.” Dagan had spoken up, an act which was rare in itself. “Aye, too much to count, and no record to go by, sir.” Anthony thought that without proper records, he had nothing to account for. The Admiralty would be very grateful for what he had recovered. Still, he wondered if Gabe and Dagan didn’t profit from a wee bit of larceny.

A
ntigua was a small island, but was great in regards to the needs of the Royal Navy in the West Indies. As dawn’s light lit the sky the master’s predictions came true. The island seemed to creep up over the horizon until it was in plain view. This made old Peckham strut like a peacock. Anthony never doubted the master’s prediction, and was just as excited as he at having made a perfect landfall. It had been nearly six weeks since they had left England. Not a speed record by any means, but the time had been well used. The crew’s sail handling had been tested in all kinds of weather conditions. They had become proficient with the guns, and now
Drakkar
was battle tested. Not much of a battle to be sure—but for a first action Anthony was more than pleased. The crew had been seasoned, and had grown together and now was a fighting unit. There had been one flogging, but this was expected. On most ships there would have been many more. Except for Witzenfeld, the passage had been a perfect training exercise.

As the sun rose, the sky became cloudless. The deep blue Caribbean seemed to invite and welcome the frigate into her waters. Sea gulls and all manner of other birds were everywhere—swooping down, gawking and then darting off. At times, they seemed to hover in one spot. Then, flapping their wings, they’d fly away. Anthony sensed someone’s presence. Turning, he stood face to face with Lady McKean. In spite of the warm sun, she gave a shiver. Unpleasant memories of Antigua? Recalling yesterday’s ordeal? Anthony was left to wonder.

His own thoughts had drifted that way. They had lost five crewmembers, “discharged dead” and another five or six had significant, but not life threatening wounds. Not so terrible a price to pay in the overall scheme of things, but while thankful of the few losses his heart went out to those who had lost their lives. The Admiralty would consider the losses negligible compared to the schooners they’d captured. Especially given all the head money and specie they had retrieved.

Lady McKean would find no solace in this, however. “Will we have time to speak after we anchor, Captain?”

“I’m sure, my lady,” Anthony replied. “I have to report to the flag officer, if he’s in port. I’m sure I’ll have to meet with the commissioner at the dockyard. However, after the official visits, I’m sure we’ll have time to visit before
Drakkar
sails.”

“I would be grateful, Captain,” Lady McKean replied.

“Gil, my lady. Please just call me Gil.”

Pausing, Lady McKean looked at Anthony. “If you insist. I know you have much to attend to without me in the way.” Then she was gone.

***

“Deck there,” the masthead lookout called down. “Several ships anchored just off the headland, sir. One’s a second-rate, at least.”

“That’ll be the flag ship,” Anthony remarked to the master as he approached. “Make a signal to Buck and the two schooners to standby to fire salute.”

“Aye, Cap’n.”

“Mt Pitts.”

“Here, sir.”

“Prepare to wear ship.”

“Aye, sir.’’ “Once that’s completed, begin the salute.” “Yes, sir,” Mr. Pits answered, then dashed away to attend his duties.

“‘Bout to bust, he is, with his newfound authority,” Peckham remarked to Anthony as soon as Pitts was out of hearing. “Better watch out Cap’n, or he’ll be admiral before you.”

“I’m sure,” Anthony replied. “I’m going down to change. No doubt the Admiral will signal before the anchor’s let go. Bart?”

“Here, Cap’n, I’m already preparing the gig, sir.”

***

Antigua was the Royal Navy’s headquarters and main base in the West Indies. As Gabe strode across the quarterdeck of the schooner
LeCroix,
he thought of his father. He had spent many an evening listening as the admiral had told stories and shared his memories of Antigua and the West Indies with Dagan and him. Hopefully, he’d have some to share when this commission was over.

The West Indies was a chain of islands on the eastern side of the Caribbean. These islands were full of natural harbors and inlets, making for the perfect lair of pirates and privateers. Therefore, opportunities for someone such as he should be abundant. Since Witz’s death, Gabe had been made acting fourth lieutenant. If luck held, he’d make lieutenant before too long. It was not unthinkable that once he made lieutenant he might even be given command of some little prize—like this schooner.

Thinking of “this little prize” made him think of Dagan. How much loot did he confiscate before letting
anyone know it had been found? Better yet, where did he hide it? “For use in case of a cloudy day,” was all Dagan said, as he took a small chest and placed it aside before letting anyone know of their “find.” He had handed Gabe a large red ruby that had to be ten carats or more. “For luck,” Dagan had said. Gabe didn’t like keeping this from Anthony, but he didn’t want to say anything to hurt Dagan either.

Gabe fondled the gem in his coat pocket, and thought of the articles of war. He felt a chill run through him. “For luck,” Dagan had said. Well, he damn well hoped good luck was all that ever came of it.

Dagan approached and said,
“Drakkar’s
signaling.”

Gabe responded without even thinking, “Look alive men. The Admiral’s eyes are upon us. We don’t want him to liking us to a bunch of bum boatsmen.”

The winds had backed to the southeast.
Drakkar
was leaving a white wake in the blue sea. Even under reduced sail, she appeared a force with which to be reckoned. She glided into harbour, having completed the salute. The anchor had scarcely been loosened when the admiral’s signal “repair on board” had been hoisted. Anthony was proud of how well Bart had the gig’s crew turned out. Of course, he’d expected no different. Even Mr. Davy was turned out smart as a “bullock” on parade day. He had been brought along to carry dispatches. “Bloody worthless little shit ‘iffen you ask,” Bart had said. Anthony knew his comments were a ruse. Bart had taken to the young gentleman and had spent hours “educating” the lad. Even now he was explaining to Davy the age-old tradition of “the captain is last into the boat but first out.” Davy was listening to Bart, but couldn’t help but gawk at the flagship. He had thought
Drakkar
big, but the flagship was gigantic to the young mid.

Robert Harvey was flag captain of HMS
Namur.
She was small for a second rate—only ninety guns. However, she could still provide deadly force. Harvey met Anthony as he came on board shaking his hand even before honors had been completed. After pleasantries had been exchanged, the two talked captain to captain. “Sir Lawrence Finylson, rear admiral of the blue is our lord and master. He has tried very hard to deal with this pestilence of pirates and privateers. However, until you arrived, he had only one frigate—a small 28.

It’s a wonder she still floats, her hull is so wormy. We’ve lost a couple of brigs, and a hurricane damaged our one sloop so badly she will have to be completely overhauled. There’s little enough left to justify our admiral’s presence. He’s tried with what little resources we have, but Sir Lawrence is ill and grows tired. Now that you’re here, I expect he’ll haul down his flag so he can go back to England and enjoy what little time he has left.”

When Anthony was ushered into the admiral’s stateroom by the flag lieutenant, he was shocked. The man before him looked very tired and old. Yellow Jack had taken its toll on the old admiral.

“Ah, Gil, how are you? Have a seat.” The admiral then ordered the flag lieutenant to “fetch some ice.” As soon as the man had gone, the admiral jokingly remarked, “Soon as he gets back we’ll have a cool glass of refreshment, that is if he doesn’t get lost and let the ice melt before he returns.” Anthony had to smile. The admiral may be getting up in years, but he still maintained a good sense of humor.

“I’ve looked through the reports as you and Harvey were talking. Bad business with Lieutenant Witzenfeld. Demons, demons, I tell you. They take a man’s soul and torment him to the point of madness. Worse than with
drink. I’ve seen it happen, right here on this island. Demons, pure and simple.

“Now about those damnable pirates.” The admiral had changed tack so quickly Anthony was momentarily confused. “It appears you dished ‘em up prim and proper. Wee bit of prize money and head money too. You’ll need those prizes, and so we’ll buy them into the service. Oh, before I forget. Did we get an accurate count on the value of the treasure?”

“Not yet sir. We’ve been rather busy,” answered Anthony.

“Well, get to it when you can.”

“Aye sir,” Anthony replied.

“A very lucky beginning for you, Gil. More than I’ve had in three years. I’ve decided to haul down my flag. I’m sending my request on the next packet. I’m also going to appoint you to commodore. Of course, the admiralty will have to confirm the appointment, but I don’t see any problem there. What say you? I was very sorry to hear about Lord McKean.” The admiral had changed tack again without even pausing or taking a deep breath. “He was a good man. They had no children, so that leaves Lady McKean alone and a prime catch, if I do say so. She was years younger than Lord McKean. You’re not married are you, Gil?”

“Er—no sir,” replied Anthony, somewhat taken aback by the admiral’s frankness.

***

Once back on
Drakkar,
Anthony’s officers were jubilant over the news of his being appointed commodore.

“Yer broad pendant, sir. It’s about time,” Buck said.

Anthony looked at his first lieutenant and said, “Yes, but it would have been better if I could have had a captain under me. You know you would have been my choice.”

“Aye, Cap’n, but don’t worry. White ball below the pennant or no, we’ll show ‘em. And when we’re through you’ll be flying your own flag, and that’s no error.”

Once the excitement over Anthony’s broad pennant subsided, he, Buck and the master discussed his findings on the flagship. “Those blackguards are no match for us on the open sea. However, once we’re sighted, they make for the closest island, cay, inlet, or reef where we can’t follow. According to Captain Harvey, we’ve lost two brigs. Laid their keels open on a reef trying to catch the cutthroats.”

“Amateurs,” snorted Peckham.

Anthony cut a glance at the old master. “Well, amateurs or not, we’ll need those two schooners to use, not unlike a terrier after a rabbit.”

“How will we man them, sir?” Buck asked.

“We can have the survivors off those brigs I mentioned. There’s still a few of them around. The rest, Mr. Buck, I leave up to you. I’ll expect recommendations on the morrow.”

Anthony then turned to the master. “See what you can find in the way of updated charts. I’m sure the locals will have more accurate ones than these,” Anthony said. Disgusted, he tossed his calipers on the charts laid across the table before him.

“Now I’ll leave these problems in your capable hands. I’ll see what the island has to offer in the way of officer’s uniforms on my way to meet the dock-yard commissioner.”

***

Anthony looked at the envelope with the official seal on the back. “Mr. Markham passed it along, sir,” Silas reported. “I didn’t disturb you right away as you was plotting with Mr. Buck and the master.”

“Plotting?”

“Aye, sir. Ain’t that what ‘yews was about? Plotting on how to deal with them sea devils.”

Anthony smiled at Silas’s description of his meeting with Buck and the master. “Yes, we were plotting, Silas.”

The envelope held an invitation to a reception that was being given in
Drakkar’s
honor. The reception was to be held at the dockyard commissioner’s residence, Commodore Gardner. Anthony had paid the commodore his official call, but not before he’d acquired his new uniforms. Gardner was a nice enough official who Anthony took a liking to immediately. He’d given his condolences on the loss of Anthony’s father.

“We were friends,” he said, stating that they were together in Hawke’s squadron in ‘59. “Your father was in command of the
Cambridge
80. I had been first lieutenant on the
Edgar
64. The
Edgar’s
captain was killed and I was given command. It rained hell that day—pure hell. It was soon after that your father was given his flag”

***

There was a slight ocean breeze blowing when Anthony Buck, and Gabe got out of the coach.
The rest of the officers—except those on watch—should arrive at any time,
Anthony thought. A black servant dressed in finery for the evening’s festivities opened the coach’s door for them. The ground crunched beneath their shoes. Crushed seashells, long bleached white by the sun, had been used to line the path to the elegant white house. It
was set just off the coast road atop a small hill. Anthony was sure it was built here to take advantage of these little breezes that they were now enjoying. Through the wide gates and up the white steps—they were taking it all in. The residence must surely belong to some rich merchant or ship owner and was on loan to the commodore. The commodore would not likely be able to afford such a residence. Anthony was certain the commodore would pass along to the owner any lucrative Royal Navy contracts that were available, thereby making it an advantageous situation for all parties.