by Peter Greene
Standing on the port side, Jonathan and Delain stared at the approaching boats. A shot rang out and splinters flew from a spar just above Delain’s head.
“Stay down, Delain!” Jonathan called, pushing her lower to hide behind the rail.
“What can we do?” yelled Delain. “They will be here any moment!”
Jonathan considered their situation, looking around for an answer. He looked about for anything at his disposal, then noticed that near the stern were a pair of portside deck guns. Ten-pounders to be sure. With a well-aimed shot or two, maybe he could slow down the approaching boats.
“Wait here! I will find powder for those guns!”
Jonathan disappeared below decks, using a hatch and ladder near the stern rail. It was hard to see in the dark, though as his eyes became adjusted, he searched the hold quickly. Being such a small ship, with only a single deck below, he soon found small cartridges and a few balls. Then he paused. A sound. Jonathan believed he heard laughing, laughing up close, but after a quick look around, he dismissed it as one of those strange creaking noises that ships made in the water. He ran to the upper deck as fast as he could, carrying his supplies. Once in the brighter light, he waited for his eyes to adjust, and there was Delain at the guns.
“Hurry, Jonathan! Hurry!” she called.
“Excuse me, Miss Dowdeswell,” Jonathan said firmly, approaching the weapons. “Guns are very dangerous. Please stand aside.” He handed her his sword, then positioned her at the center of the deck, out of harm’s way.
She nodded, saying “By all means, Mr. Moore, please continue.”
The wind began to pick up and the ship began moving ahead, though pitifully slowly. Harrison seemed to struggle a bit at the wheel, but he held on, concentrating his energy.
Jonathan quickly grabbed a ramrod and shoved it down the barrel of the first, then the second gun. He then rammed a cartridge into each, and lastly a ball. Next, the touch hole needed cleaning before he could light the gun, however, there was no touch hole. Odd. How does one light it?
“The chain on the back, Jonathan!” called Harrison, still at the wheel, “It sparks when you pull on the chain!”
“Ingenious!” exclaimed Delain, now fascinated with the entire process of cleaning, loading, and hopefully firing the gun.
“I see!” called Jonathan, and he turned to aim the first gun at the approaching boats.
“Now Miss Dowdeswell,” he said, “Please stand back as I can tell you—”
There was a scream.
It was Delain. Jonathan looked at her face and noticed it was a strange shade of white, her eyes were wide open, her mouth as well. She seemed unable to speak, so finally pointed behind him.
Jonathan spun around right as a sword blade fell inches from his head. It was Dwayne, bloody nose and all, still dizzy from Delain’s kick, but aggressively slashing at Jonathan, who backed away.
He must have made his way up an errant rope, thought Jonathan, and now I must deal with him again!
With no sword, Jonathan was certainly at a great disadvantage.
“The boats, Jonny Boy!” called Sean from the tops. “They are almost here!”
“Busy, Sean!” he called, as he ducked from a wild slash by Dwayne.
“Ya snotty brat!” Dwayne called. “Ya got the drop on me once! How do ya like a bit o’ yer own medicine, eh?”
Jonathan crawled backward, dodging thrusts and swipes by the clumsy pirate, slowly making his way to the center of the deck. He was hoping Delain would kick his sword to him, yet she seemed too excited to do anything but gasp in fear.
“Miss Dowdeswell, my sword, if you please!”
“Oh!” Delain said. “So sorry. By all means, Mr. Moore.” And with that she retrieved his blade and after some inspection of the situation, tossed it to Jonathan’s general direction. After its short flight through the air, the sword spun perfectly to land point downward, the tip firmly driven into Dwayne’s right foot.
“Owe! Oh! By the saints!” he cried out.
Jonathan swiftly lunged forward and yanked the sword out of Dwayne’s foot, then quickly stood up, composing himself for the duel.
“Make short work of him!” called Sean from the tops as he and the marines let out additional sail, “They are almost upon us!”
By now, Dwayne was bloodied and hurt, but he was still dangerous. Besides being quite a bit larger than Jonathan, he fought like a wild beast—not as sophisticated as the French spies or British officers who trained Jonathan. This time, the midshipman had his hands full.
Delain, on the other hand, took one look at the boats, another at the guns, and realized that there was no time like the present to learn a new trick. She approached the first gun and looked down the barrel. There must be a way to aim it. Maybe one just guesses. It looks as if the chain were pulled, the ball would land right in front of that first boat!
She took one last look down the barrel.
“Stand to the side!” called Jonathan as he glanced her way. “Stand to the side of the gun! Not behind!”
“Oh! Thank you, Mr. Moore. That makes perfect sense,” Delain replied.
She stepped to the side of the gun and pulled the chain.
* * * * *
Petterwick saw the flash from the gun, only forty yards away. He had just enough time to duck as the ball sailed over his head, a mere foot from his scalp. It struck the other boat that happened to be directly behind, exploding the bow into a cloud of splinters and smoke. The men fell into the water as the jolly boat quickly sunk.
“Dear me!” exclaimed Delain. “That was not where I was aiming; however, one must make do. I did not compensate for the fact that they were moving in my direction. This next one should be just a bit lower!” She moved to the second gun and began her aiming ritual.
Jonathan finally had an opening and, with a few quick feints and a lunge, had wounded Dwayne and swiftly kicked him in the buttock, sending him over the rail. He turned to Delain as she labored over the gun.
“Delain! Wait! I will take the next shot!”
“Nonsense!” Delain said. “After I have now got the hang of it?”
She pulled the chain. A puff of smoke and flame shot out of the end of the gun. The ball raced through the air with a whoosh!
Petterwick saw the second flash.
“The last one just missed. We will not be so lucky this time! Abandon ship!” he yelled, and jumped over the side into the cool water. The men aboard scrambled about, trying to get away, but the ball struck dead center, sending men, wood, and hopes up in smoke.
Jonathan ran to the rail and looked at the pirates in the water, all swimming madly back to the island. They appeared to him as angry kittens, all wet and eyes wide with fear. They were quite a way from the beach, but with some effort and determination, they could make it to the shore safely.
“An excellent display of shooting, Miss Dowdeswell,” Jonathan said. “It’s as if you have been doing it your whole life!”
Delain smiled and curtsied ever so slightly. “One never knows what one can do unless tested, as Mr. Tupper always says!”
As the sun continued its rise in the east, the wind finally appeared, modestly filling the sails. The Fiero moved slowly but steadily east into deeper water towards the nearby island of San Salvador with Lieutenant Harrison still at the wheel. He laughed aloud in joy.
“We did it! We have captured our first prize!” he called out. Sean and the marines came down from the tops and joined Harrison at the wheel, all clapping their hands and congratulating each other.
Hudson and Hicks took some time to complete a thorough search through the holds of the ship, starting at the bow, as Jonathan, Sean, and Harrison became familiar with the sails and rigging. Delain even received a fast lesson at the helm and, within a minute or two, she was at the wheel, guiding the ship south to Nassau.
“Amazing!” she said repeatedly, fully enjoying the thrill of moving the ship through the water. “Who would have reasoned one could a
ctually sail into the wind and make progress!”
Sean, on the other hand, was not so easily impressed with their new means of transportation. He surveyed the ship and shook his head disapprovingly.
“Aye, it’s a wonder she even floats!” said Sean. “So many leaks and broken pieces, I’d think it will take months to make her seaworthy!”
“You have experience with this type of renovation, Seaman Flagon,” Harrison said. “I am sure the Captain will have you in charge of the Fiero’s repairs when we get to Nassau!”
They all laughed again as Hudson and Hicks appeared on deck with worried looks on their faces.
“Hudson! Hicks,” said Harrison fondly, “Report!”
“Aye, Captain,” they said.
“I like the sound of that!” said Harrison.
“That is right!” beamed Jonathan. “Since you are in command on this ship, that makes you her captain! Congratulations, Mr. Harrison—er, I mean Captain Harrison!”
“If the Captain would like to know,” interrupted Hudson, “We found something of interest below deck.”
“Maybe more accurately, someone,” corrected Hicks.
“Someone?” asked Harrison.
“Yes, sir,” replied Hudson. “It seems that this ship has more than Miss Dowdeswell as a ghost. There is a gentleman below, clapped in irons as there is no brig. Says he’s an American.”
“He says his name is Kozak,” added Hudson.
As they all wondered about this new development, they were interrupted by a swooshing sound that grew louder and louder. Immediately, the sailors and marines recognized the noise and crouched to the ground instinctively. Jonathan reached for Delain and pulled her to the deck. The deep swooshing sound could only mean a gunshot, a ball shooting across the bow of the Fiero.
Quickly, Jonathan and Harrison took up their glasses and looked eastward, away from the many islands to starboard. It was a large warship, bearing down upon them.
“Oh my, my!” said Jonathan. “It is the Danielle!”
The others looked as best they could, but even to Delain, the great ship was easily recognizable, though many yards away. She was approaching fast from the northern tip of San Salvador.
“Why are they shooting at us?” asked Sean.
“Oh!” Harrison cried. “Look atop our main mast! How could I be so stupid?”
As they looked up, there was nothing to see, because it was not something they were looking for. The mistake was that something was missing. There was no flag flying. No colors.
“Aye, they think we’re a pirate!” said Hudson.
“Not good,” said Hicks. “And bad luck to be blowed out of the water by your own mates, eh?”
“We must think of something!” said Harrison.
“Can’t we just turn directly to them, so they can see it is us?” suggested Delain, now equally concerned.
Harrison looked worried and took the helm from Delain. He shook his head.
“Any maneuver like that might be seen as intent to engage, to attack. We must drop sail, showing we do not mean to give chase, but with this little wind and only a few hands, it may take too long!”
Suddenly a voice from below rose up.
“Pardon me,” it said.
They all became startled. They had forgotten that Mr. Tupper was alongside, a few yards astern, in the launch.
“I have an idea” he said. “Miss Dowdeswell, may I have a private word with you?”
Aboard the Danielle, Captain Walker and Lieutenant Holtz stood on the bow, as the men aboard raced to battle stations. The ship always came alive at times like these, and if one didn’t mind his steps and position, one could easily be trampled as the hands rushed to guns, sail, and rope.
Lieutenant Blake had spotted the small ship just a minute before and alerted the captain to the two large sails and a small mizzen at the stern.
“A twenty-gun sloop, sir,” he said. “No colors at all. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was a dead ringer for HMS Drake.”
“The Drake?” said Captain Walker. “That was lost almost . . . twenty-five years ago. Though there are many like her, a good size for rum-runners and aspiring pirates. Let’s send a shot across her bow so she knows we are here.”
With that, Blake attended to the deck guns on the bow and had one readied with powder and ball. Mr. Watt, ever present at the wheel, came slightly into the wind, giving Blake the chance to aim just a bit ahead of the smaller craft.
“Fire!” he yelled, and the ball headed towards its mark.
Walker continued to stare with his glass at his prey. After a moment, he could see the ball strike the sea a dozen or so yards ahead of the sloop, sending up a small fountain of water. By now, he could also see there was no flag atop the main and that certainly meant a pirate, and more importantly, a nice prize for himself and the crew. Any ship captured by a British captain was to be sold at action, or purchased outright by the Royal Navy itself. The monies collected were then split, somewhat unevenly, by the officers and the crew. The Captain received the lion’s share, followed by the lieutenants, other officers, midshipmen, and finally the members of the crew. Even the Admiral that was above Captain Walker received a share. Walker thought of how easy it would be, as the Danielle could pull alongside this smaller ship and literally take all her guns repeatedly and not even show a scratch.
“Easy money and a nice barky as well, if she is cleaned up!” said Steward, who just happened by.
“Possibly,” Walker said calmly. “Let’s keep the men at their guns, Mr. Holtz.”
Spears and Lane now appeared on deck and reported to the Captain that all guns were manned and ready.
“Excellent. Keep watch on them boys and listen for the command to fire.” Walker lowered his glass and turned to Holtz.
“It seems Mr. Moore will miss another battle! Ha! Can you make out anything aboard her, Lieutenant?”
“No sir,” Holtz said, looking through his eyepiece. “Not really; however, I do see someone climbing the mainmast, possibly to display their colors?”
As Holtz watched, he could barely make out a small form ascending the mainmast. He focused his glass and saw that the man had finally reached the top, and had pulled a fabric of some sort from within his blouse. As they sailed closer still, Holtz could see that the man atop the sheets was blond-haired. He frantically tried to attach the fabric to the head of the mainmast, and after a moment, the breeze kicked up and unfurled it just enough to be seen. Holtz had to look twice to be sure he was certain.
Not the flag of a pirate
“What is it, Holtz? What is the flag?” asked Walker, impatiently.
“Well, sir,” Holtz said, “it’s not a flag, really.”
“Then what in the bloody blue blazes is it, man!?” exploded Walker, now impatient and eager to engage his ship.
“They have raised no flag, but, well, it’s bloomers, sir. A lady’s bloomers.”
Indeed as they neared the chase, as navy men referred to any ship they were chasing, it could be seen that it had taken in all sail, thereby showing the intent not to fight or flee. Even the old eyes of Captain Walker, who had seen everything there was to see on the blue ocean, had now admitted to himself that this was certainly new: a ship flying white ladies’ bloomers from the mainmast. As he continued to observe through his glass, some figures came into view, waving and jumping at the stern of the brig. He could not hear their cries, but he didn’t have to. As he adjusted the glass on his ‘scope, he brought into view the recognizable crew of his prey.
“Have the men stand down, Lieutenant. Secure the guns. She’s a friendly.”
“A friendly? With such a strange flag?” asked Holtz.
“Yes, Lieutenant. It seems the prize has already been taken . . . by Mr. Harrison and his band!”
“Harrison?” blurted Steward. “His first prize and only a wet-eared lieutenant? Oh, by the saints, there will be no living with ‘im!”
Walker laughed loudly as the Danielle c
losed her gun ports and signaled her intent to come alongside.
10
Finally, a Pirate
As the boys were welcomed aboard the Danielle to the cheers of the crew, Jonathan, Sean, and Harrison beamed with pride. The marines and Delain also were applauded and immediately invited to the Captain’s cabin for toasted cheese, coffee, and the like. Mr. Tupper excused himself and went to find a cool place to lie down and hopefully sleep a little of his seasickness away. He was happy to be on a much larger ship, as the launch seemed to accentuate each wave and swell. The Danielle, on the other hand, was like a small city, sailing through the calm Caribbean waters, barely a tilt or a slant to be felt.
A party of marines boarded the Fiero to catalog all the wares and stores aboard. They even removed the prisoner and placed him in the brig aboard the Danielle, as he was considered a pirate. He was fed a small fish sandwich, a bowl of Claise’s stew, and a steaming cup of coffee. A marine was posted outside the door, just in case. His fate, said Captain Walker, would be decided after he had heard the complete tale from Harrison.
As the new heroes entered the Captain’s cabin, Steward was laying out plates, cups and saucers, and a variety of treats he had created. As this meal was a special occasion, Claise was serving as well. He had been asked to “assist” Steward in the preparation by the Captain himself, though all knew he did almost all the cooking. There were small, puffy rolls with sugar and cream on the inside, toasted cheese, of course, and tea and coffee. There also were fresh eggs, cheesed and peppered, and some sliced ham as well. Jonathan and Sean looked at each other and smiled, as they did whenever a wonderful meal was placed before them.
All officers and midshipmen were in attendance, as well as Sean and Delain, making the room crowded once again. Even though all windows were opened, it remained a bit stuffy. Hudson and Hicks, who had never seen the Captain’s cabin, were delighted to attend and stood at attention, away from the table, until they were invited to help themselves to the fare.
