Wake of the Perdido Star (7 page)

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Authors: Gene Hackman

BOOK: Wake of the Perdido Star
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It seemed all the ship's crew, with the exception of the working party in the boat, had lined the rail to watch the light-and-sound display. Jack asked Quince what was happening.
“I don't rightly know, lad.” Quince resumed his trancelike preoccupation with the passing drama. “It would seem two ships have taken a dislike to one another.”
Jack moved back to the quarterdeck where second mate Cheatum stood, giving orders to the working party. “Douse those lanterns and keep your heads down, lads—or you'll catch a stray ball.”
Jack sidled up to two of the older hands.
“The schooner would be a privateer, I'm thinking,” one said. “And from the looks of her, a right fast boat at that.”
“Can you see what flag she's flying?”
“No. Probably John Bull, English built.”
Just then the schooner jibed and as she came broadside to the open lagoon, let loose with a deafening salvo. The projectiles streaked back across the bay and soon a fire was visible on the other ship. The larger, pursuing ship swung east to free her guns to fire at the much faster schooner, once again rapidly approaching the helpless
Star
.
It was now obvious that the schooner was looking for the deep channel just astern of the
Star
. Mr. Quince suddenly came to life and countermanded Cheatum's earlier order to douse lights. “Fire up the lanterns, men! These buggers don't know we're here and it's a tight fit through that pass a'hind us. Be quick about it!”
The ship in the lagoon fired its volley too soon and the balls drove harmlessly into the dunes on the barrier island. The schooner bore down relentlessly on the
Star
's position. She seemed intent on ramming the grounded boat, but at the last second must have noticed the relit lanterns and tacked to port thirty yards astern. It came so close that Jack could see the startled faces of the other crew, gaping at the beached ship. As the schooner tacked away, Jack read
Helena
on her fantail. The crew of the
Helena
were too busy between the reef and the island to fire their cannons but were easily outdistancing the larger ship. The shouts from her officers to the crew sounded like French. The other boat tacked again for a broadside at the fleeing
Helena
. The shots this time were aimed higher and struck the
Helena
's mainsail gaff, tattering the sail beneath. The schooner didn't seem bothered and tacked again across the narrow stretch of water.
As the
Helena
disappeared down the slough, the larger ship lumbered slowly and carefully past the
Star
in dogged pursuit. A fierce fire on deck consumed a quarter of it. Smoke rolled out of several forward hatches. Jack could see men working feverishly on deck with buckets trying to drench the fire.
“The man is stubborn.” This came from Quince, who had come up behind Jack. “Break off the engagement and put out your
fire, lad.” He was talking to himself, Jack realized, and watched him shake his head in dismay. Suddenly, Jack's mother and father stood beside him, their faces lit by the fire on the passing warship.
“What's happening? My God—that ship's on fire.” Ethan's voice betrayed his alarm. Pilar, upset by the gunfire, shivered under the thin blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Jack touched her arm to reassure her. The burning warship was soon but a distant glow.
“Mind you stay out of the way of the crew,” Ethan told his son. “And get some rest.” He gently guided his wife back toward the companionway.
“Yes, Father. I'll just stay on deck awhile longer.” Jack had no intention of going below. His heart beat quickly, the spectacle of the last half hour still too immediate to allow him to sleep.
Shouts ascended from the working party, asking permission to resume their tasks. They were quickly answered. “Lay to!” Quince shouted, for they had less than twelve hours to catch the evening tide. With this knowledge, Jack decided to do a little exploring. He was more than curious to find out the fate of the two ships.
Jack climbed along the bowsprit, hand over hand, making his way to the end of the thirty-foot-long thick pole. The sprit ended well over the salt marsh, on a sandy patch of dry land. He swung from the dolphin striker and easily dropped six feet to the sand. Getting back on board might pose a problem, but Jack would worry about that later. He scrambled to the top of a low hill and standing in a hum of insects, he gazed back at the
Star
. It was a bizarre sight to see the crew milling about the deck of the unmoving ship. How would they ever get off this spit of land?
The false dawn spread a gray light over the dunes. Jack's legs were unsteady as he started south along the island. The earth felt strange after being so many days aboard ship. For twenty minutes he trudged through the soft sand, hearing the distant thunderclaps of the battle. On one of the higher dunes he saw that the fire on the larger warship had consumed her whole superstructure. Her
sails were ablaze, filling the morning sky with ebony smoke. The reports he had heard a few minutes before were actually the ship's powder magazines exploding.
Jack rounded a copse of loblolly pines to be surprised by a band of wild ponies pawing at the sand. Alerted, they scattered among the dunes. It was an eerie place. You could run around on sand beaches seemingly in the middle of the ocean. Men in front of him still engaged in fierce battle were probably dying as he watched. Others behind him worked on a ship they had purposely run onto the shore and ponies cavorted about him like dogs in Hamden's downtown square. But amongst it all, it was the fire on the ship that drew him south like a moth.
He got as close to the blazing vessel as he could. The view was strange through the dead pines, the skeletal trees seeming to point emphatically away from the carnage. The ship was sinking by the bow, fully engulfed in flames. Sailors had jumped from the inferno and were swimming to both sides of the barrier. Many had reached shore, some lying prone, others staring out to sea at the departing privateer. The sun was now rising and flashed a path from the schooner with the tattered sail to the sinking ship, hissing madly as the fire touched the rushing tidewaters of Drum Inlet.
As mesmerizing as the scene was, Jack began to fear that he might be missed back at the
Star
. He knew he had come a long way and had lost track of time. Reluctantly, he turned and started to retrace his steps at a ground-eating trot.
When Jack reached the
Star
, he waded out to the port boarding ladder. Granted, his hike down the dune couldn't be compared to Columbus's discovery of the New World, but still he felt pleased with himself; it was something he could relive in his mind for years to come. His curiosity about the battle had been satisfied. The sinking of the vessel both saddened and thrilled him. He had seen a navy pennant and American flag, just visible above the water. Twenty feet of the mainmast and part of the foremast had jutted out in the middle of the inlet, at a rakish angle. The torn remains of
the flags waved limply. As Jack peeled off his wet pants and boots, he wondered about the fate of the men aboard the sunken ship. He had seen them on shore, swimming, or in boats. The proximity of land certainly saved most on board, or at least he hoped so. Very tired now, he climbed contentedly into his hard bunk.
It seemed he had hardly closed his eyes when a shudder of the boat awakened him. The men must have finished repairing the rudder—but how were they moving the ship? Despite his exhaustion, he donned his wet clothes and made his way topside, anxious not to miss something exciting.
The tide was coming in and the
Star
began to creak and groan as she accepted the burden of her own weight again. It was floating! Jack could soon hear the deck busy with sailors taking in lines, letting out sails, generally cleaning up and making ready for sea. The wind proved perfect, dragging them into the center of the channel. Turning, they headed south, parallel to the dunes Jack had walked earlier.
Jack's parents appeared on deck looking much better, if not a little apprehensive about the prospects of rough seas. The day grew beautiful—clear skies and crisp fall weather embraced them.
As the
Perdido Star
made its way down the channel, Jack wondered how they would find their way into the ocean; certainly not out the clogged inlet where the ship had sunk. It suddenly occurred to him that only he had actually seen the demise of the naval vessel. As the inlet was several miles from the
Star
's anchorage, he should probably tell someone. Going aft to the quarterdeck, Jack spotted the bleary-eyed and disheveled captain, gazing back toward the village they had seen the previous night.
“Excuse me, sir. Ah . . . Captain Deploy . . . could I speak to you, please?” The captain glared at him.
“Sir. I have information that may be helpful.”
Now a grunt and short laugh from the ancient captain.
Jack wasn't sure if Deploy could hear him, so he took several tentative steps toward the quarterdeck. “I hiked down the dunes last night, sir, and saw what I think would be information, sir, that you might need.”
He received a dismissive toss of the head.
“My name is Jackson O'Reilly, sir. I'm one of the passengers. Along with my parents.”
The captain turned away and addressed the second mate. “Cheatum, I believe one of the standing orders aboard this—” The captain paused and squared his shoulders, as if to make a point of the next word. “Illush . . . illwus . . . Illustrious ship is, correct me if I'm wrong, that passengers, even paying ones,” and now his voice rose, “are to stay the hell off my quarterdeck!” The captain turned his attention back toward the village. Second mate Cheatum motioned for Jack to move away.
Jack bounded off the quarterdeck and shouted, “Listen to me or not, sir. You'll not be seeing the open ocean at the next inlet. It's stuffed with a sunk ship and this is free advice from a paying passenger!”
The crew had been listening to the exchange and there came a roar of laughter. Jack felt the heat rise in his face. Even the captain smiled, and stealing a look at the second mate, dismissed the whole episode.
Jack stood firm. His parents watched him, waiting for an explanation of why he seemed so angry. Finally he turned to them.
“Last night I jumped from the bow of the ship and hiked along the islet. I saw the end of the battle. There is a ship sunk in the inlet. We can't get out that way. This idiot of a captain will soon see that.”
“You should not have left the ship.” Ethan shook his head and patted Jack on the shoulder. “Regardless, you must remember the captain is in charge and responsible for the welfare of all on board. I'm sure he'll find a way out.”
Jack ignored his father, eyes riveted toward the pines hiding the
entrance to the inlet. As the
Star
began her turn to port to make the exit from Drum inlet, a lookout on the bowsprit shouted, “Wreck ahead off the bow!” All hands moved to the rails to see the masts rising out of the water. “Hard a starboard. All hands stand by to tack!” The boat began her slow turn. Jack leaned back on the port rail against his elbows. Legs crossed, head cocked, he looked at the captain standing next to the helm, and finally caught his eye. Even a ship's length away, Jack felt his wrath.
It would take several hours now to backtrack to the next inlet. Jack, still upset by the captain's dismissal, was elated by the sweet revenge. He took up his usual watch position on the bow, feeling much like one of the crew. Indeed, he thought, he was older than some of the apprentices.
When the bells rang at two A.M. he started to go below, but was stopped by the sight of something in the water, fifty yards off the starboard bow. Bobbing in four-foot waves, it looked like a small boat. The waves obscured his view and he lost sight of it. Had he in fact seen anything but a whitecap?
“Man overboard, starboard side!” The shout came from a sailor on watch. Jack stared in awe as the crew came alive, launching a gig and dragging a body onto the
Star
's deck. No, not one body. Two. Jack was both drawn and repelled by the sight. He knew he had to keep out of the crew's way but couldn't help crowding in with the rest of them.
Smithers, a tall raw-boned seaman, nudged the older of the two bodies with his toe. “This 'un's about cooked, I'd say.” The ship's doctor brushed him aside and examined the bodies.

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