by Peter Greene
“Your duel, Jonathan!” said Delain, breaking a short silence. “Please tell me about it! Were you afraid?”
“How did you know about that?” asked Jonathan, somewhat shocked.
“As I am sure you know,” said Delain, “if one keeps an ear open on this ship, obtaining news and gossip is easier than reading the paper!”
This was true and Jonathan had often heard that the officers used this network to gain and disseminate information.
No wonder Captain Walker knows all and sees all, as some say, thought Jonathan. Tongues wag constantly on this ship. There are few secrets.
“To answer your question about the duel, Delain, I was not afraid,” Jonathan said sadly. “I certainly wasn’t looking forward to it; however, I knew I could best Spears. When I fenced him previously, I had played the fool, all the time studying his style and ability. At the same time, I made sure he never saw any details of my own habits and skills.”
“I must say,” Delain said with a wry smile, “that you are quite devious and cunning, Midshipman Moore. I wonder if you can be trusted. And where would one learn such a talent?”
“On the streets of London, Miss Dowdeswell.”
Delain eyed him suspiciously and paused for a moment.
“Whatever do you mean, Jonathan?”
He considered explaining his entire past to her. He knew she had some understanding of his separation from his father and his mother’s passing, but she knew no details of his years on the streets, living as an orphan and fighting day to day to survive.
“Let us just say that Sean and I had a rough few years and, though unhappy and strenuous, we gained some knowledge and skills that seem to be necessary in His Majesty’s Navy. Could we leave it at that?”
“If you promise that someday you will tell me the entire tale?” Delain asked.
“Surely, it would be my pleasure,” Jonathan said. “possibly once we are all back in London. You had promised that I could show you some of the finer sights.”
“Then it is a date,” Delain said. “If I am not in school!”
“And is that really why you chose to become a stowaway? To avoid a few weeks in a classroom?”
Delain reflected upon this question as they rounded the bow and proceeded aft along the starboard rail. The sun was now beginning to head downward and the breeze that brushed them gave the entire scene a dreamlike quality as the waves sparkled, and seabirds darted between the sails and flew swiftly alongside the Danielle.
“Partly, yes,” she began hesitantly. “I did not feel that after all my adventures on the beaches with turtles, climbing the fort to the highest parapet, and exploring the marshes of the islands, that I could just sit in a room and memorize lessons. After the winning of the Drake and the firing of those guns, well, I suddenly thought that all of it was . . . unfair.”
“Unfair?” asked Jonathan. “To use your phrase, whatever do you mean?”
“Being a girl, Jonathan,” she said. “I am expected to be proper, polite and tranquil. Girls are to do as we are told, to be models of perfection and grace. And I think you know by now that I could never be one to follow that path. I actually wanted one more great escapade before I was expected to act grown up and be properly British. The idea of heading to sea . . . ”
Jonathan considered his possible future and all the choices and adventures that surely remained ahead. He had never realized that these were endeavors that were reserved for men and not for women. He had always assumed that all women enjoyed being women, and having their sedate, polite, and planned lives spelled out for them by society. Now, looking at Delain, he realized this was obviously not applicable to this girl. She had her own ideas, and that is what made her interesting.
“Maybe things will change, Delain,” Jonathan suggested hopefully.
“Not unless I change them,” she said quietly. “That is why I came. I want to control something about my life. And I did.”
They remained silent for a while, taking in the scene and enjoying their stroll. Jonathan thought of what she had said and wished he could help her. But of course, he realized that Delain would control her own destiny.
“Well, it is going to be a little more adventurous, Miss Dowdeswell,” Jonathan said. “I am sure your escorts will be Sean and I, and together we will have some areas to explore. Are you ready for that?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling. “Can you imagine the animals we might see? I can’t even comprehend the possibilities!”
“Maybe you will see some of your special friends, the turtles,” Jonathan said, and quickly held out the beautiful necklace with the jeweled turtle he had purchased in the shop at Ribeira Grande in the Cape Verde Islands. “Please accept this in memory of our adventures.”
Delain smiled even brighter, if at all possible, and gently took the necklace. She examined it closely and held it up to the sun to see how it sparkled.
“Mr. Moore,” she said coyly. “You shower me with gifts quite often. A turtle and a dolphin. People will start to think there is something between us, won’t they?”
Jonathan looked deep in her eyes. They were emerald green, and he found that they held an element of adventure and promise in them, and a cunning that was unnerving, yet attractive. Staring into them was like seeing a rare gem of unusual depth and quality.
“Let them,” he said. And for some reason, he moved his head close to hers, and as their eyes met, he felt the need to . . .
“Aye! Thar ya are, Mr. Moore! Cap’n needs to see you about your upcoming escort duties!”
“Steward!” Jonathan said, surprised, as he retreated from the proximity of Delain Dowdeswell’s lips. “Your timing —”
“Eh? And I am to take the little lady back to the Captain’s cabin before dinner. Hurry on, Mr. Moore, he’s waitin’ fer ya in his new quarters!”
As Jonathan bowed to Delain and shot Steward a look that if not able to kill, would surely maim, he retreated belowdecks in search of Walker.
As Steward escorted Delain to the cabin, she smiled and took a deep breath.
“Adventure, Mr. Steward! It can’t be beat!”
“Aye, Miss Dowdeswell, and a bit o’ romance is not bad either!”
* * * * *
Also allowed on deck each day, for a much briefer time than Delain, was none other than Walter Kozak. He was watched by two marines, ready with loaded muskets, and escorted by Midshipman Wayne Spears. The crew watched the two oddballs, one because of the tales they had heard about him, his strange accent and his peculiar dress, the other because of the full details of the extremely one-sided duel. Since then, Spears had kept a low profile, not attending to any duties other than his basic watches and his delivering of food to the prisoner.
Kozak, for his part, was not yet done conniving. The opportunity for him to converse with Spears was welcome as he continued his effort to convince the boy to do his bidding. He had already proposed his idea to Spears a while ago, after the boy’s defeat in the duel, and though Spears had agreed, it had been more than a few days since they had spoken. It was obvious by the look on Spear’s face that he was apprehensive about the arrangement, yet the fact that he was now escorting Kozak about the ship meant he was still in the game.
Kozak desired to assure the boy that the plan would benefit both of them: for Spears, a way out of an embarrassing situation, and for Kozak, a means of escape.
“My dear boy,” Kozak said as the two strolled around the deck, “It is joyful to breathe the fresh salt air after being cooped up like a laying hen in the bowels of this ship! Freedom is the most precious gift of God. Being captive like a caged animal is disquieting to the soul.”
Spears considered these words as he gazed out to sea, the continent barely visible. He, too, felt like a caged animal, caged not by iron bars, but by his past actions and his future disappointments. He had agreed to transfer off the Danielle when the ship returned to London, and he continued to believe that retiring from the Navy completely was really his only choi
ce.
Better to abandon my career, Wayne thought, than live with ridicule and discrimination. At least Kozak’s plan was a way out.
He mulled it over in his mind as they strolled, Kozak going on and on about freedom, the bright sunlight falling on one’s face, and the virtues of the American way of life.
“The future is always bright in America,” Kozak said softly, “with every man having the ability and opportunity to succeed. And in certain ventures such as trading and sailing, well, the world has endless possibilities. A man with talent and industry, such as yourself, well, to be young and have a bright future!”
Spears continued half-listening. He knew Kozak was still trying to convince him to carry out the plan, and he had actually already agreed. It was a simple task, really: at the right moment, when the Danielle was in the midst of the confusion of battle, Spears was to release Kozak from his cell and secure the larger jolly boat, and the two would make their escape. Hopefully, they could find a French colony along the African coast and gain passage on a larger ship to America. There, as Kozak had promised, he and Spears would become a team, gain employment in the growing shipping business, and become Captain and First Mate of a trading vessel. They would share command of the business and the profits. Spears had thought that if indeed this could happen, it would only be a matter of years before he became well-to-do and a few more before he became rich. And that sounded considerably better than being disgraced and forced out of His Majesty’s Navy.
“Kozak, begging your pardon,” interrupted Spears with a harsh whisper, slightly irritated at the nonstop selling of the idea. “I have previously agreed to the plan and my word is my bond. I will carry out my part accordingly. When Captain Walker is busy fighting the battle, we will take a boat, preferably at night, and be off. Pray, let us not speak of it again,” he continued, shooting a quick glance at the marines following too closely behind them.
The two continued walking to the nearest ladder that led belowdecks and soon disappeared out of sight. The marines followed, desiring to put the bird in his cage, as it were, allowing them to attend to more appealing duties.
Life aboard the Danielle was never truly easy. The continuous workings of a large ship in His Majesty’s Navy was complicated and at times fraught with physical exertion. This trip was no exception. As the ship sailed southward along the African coast, the crew’s duties were mostly to set about preparing for a battle that was sure to come. Sails were repaired, with even the slightest hole patched. Rope that seemed to most to be completely sound and in excellent condition suddenly required replacing.
And of course, there was gun practice. The men enjoyed this duty. Normal practice was to build a raft out of barrels, lash and nail planks to the side, maybe even attach a pole and flag, and then drop it over the side. The Danielle would then reverse course, let one side have at it, and then reverse course again and give the opposite side a chance. Unfortunately, since time was of the essence and the Captain wanted to make sure they located the enemy squadron as soon as possible to create a better chance of sinking them, he would not slow down or reverse course. Losing even precious minutes could devastate the mission. The gun crews were instructed to fire at targets on shore, as Mr. Watt steered the Danielle a bit closer near land. The port side had certainly more opportunities, as they faced the continent. They fired at clumps of trees, open spots of beach, a few outcroppings of rock, and tangles of floating debris. The starboard side, however, had slightly less at which to shoot, and was able to only target small islands that Mr. Watt could safely maneuver into position.
Jonathan and Harrison stood at attention on the poop deck and waited to be addressed. The Captain was discussing some matter with Mr. Watt and seemed to be at odds with the helmsmen as to what course to take. Finally, after much discussion, both men nodded their heads in agreement. The Captain turned and took his position on the poop, staring forward, now and again looking upwards at the sails and rigging. The ship was moving along at almost eleven knots, amazingly fast for a vessel the size of the Danielle, but it was clear to all who read the face of Captain Walker that it was not fast enough.
Jonathan suspected the reason he had been summoned, and as he contemplated his response, he saw Steward and Marine Captain Gorman escorting Sean Flagon to the stern. When they arrived and took their silent positions next to Jonathan and Harrison, it was clear what was to happen.
“Gentlemen,” the Captain said as he stared upwards, trying to find an extra bit of wind or think of another way to power the ship onward, “we are approaching the tip, as we say, on the southern coast of the continent. In less than three days we will be around and heading northeast. Hopefully, we will not see our prey before then. I would like to bottle them up in the strait between these islands and the continent. That way they can’t maneuver and scatter.”
The Captain then turned his gaze to the crow’s nest and to Garvey, who seemed to be living up there permanently these past few days. He indeed had sharp eyes, almost as sharp as Harrison’s. In a dire situation like this, Captain Walker usually sent Jonathan and Harrison to look out, but it was clear that they were important officers on the Danielle and were needed to manage the crew and relay orders.
“Garvey,” the Captain called, “anything to be seen?”
“Just clouds and deep blue sea, Cap’n! Nothin’ yet in any direction!”
Certainly the Captain was asking unnecessarily. If Garvey had seen anything, he would call out immediately. It was proof that even the Captain was nervous.
“No sign of any enemy to the south and no sign of assistance from the north,” muttered Walker.
“I had believed that with the Paladin and the Drake sounding the alarm, we would have at least a few smaller ships attending!” said Koonts in exasperation.
“Possibly they were successful,” said Harrison, “though any aid is still in route. We are moving at quite a clip and it may take some time for anyone to catch us.”
“Let us hope that is the case and they meet us before we begin to dance,” said Captain Walker. “We must do away with the frigates quickly, at least get them out of the picture long enough to chase down as many merchant vessels as we can. Mr. Moore? Flagon?”
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
“I have called you here to give you important and specific orders.”
I knew it, thought Jonathan; we will be set aside once again, missing the action.
“You will miss this action, boys,” the Captain continued, “and be set down with Miss Dowdeswell on Isla Sello, Seal Island in the King’s English. It is located at the entrance to the strait, so at least you will have an excellent view of the battle from there. You will do all in your power to make Miss Dowdeswell comfortable and safe. We will provision you with food and water enough for many weeks. Hopefully, we will be successful and return to you when all is clear. If not, we will also leave powder, a few barrels, so you can make fires to possibly signal another ship that will pass by. No matter what the nationality, you should signal and try to gain passage back to Europe. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” they both said. It was no surprise to the boys that this was coming. They had already begun packing a few essentials of their own: their blades, Jonathan’s telescope and compass, Sean’s knife, a few remedies he had received from the doctor, and his book. Even Stewie appeared and jumped at Sean, making sure all knew that he was ready to accompany them.
“Captain, if I may?” asked Jonathan, respectfully.
“Continue, Mr. Moore,” the Captain said, now looking the boy in the eye.
“Thank you, sir,” Jonathan said. “I strongly request that I be allowed to remain aboard, as the only actual experience with true battle was—”
“Thank you, Mr. Moore for your opinion,” interrupted the Captain, somewhat annoyed. “Duly noted. You have your assignment.”
What the Captain would not say, was that he was sorry to lose Jonathan for the upcoming fight. His ingenuity and creativity w
ould surely be an asset in the coming fray, and certainly the men loved Jonathan and would fight for him as much as for their own lives. They considered him their good-luck charm and his past activities had made some of them a few pounds and granted a notoriety worth at least a drink or two in any port tavern. Jonathan was uniquely considered both “one of us” to the crew as he had come from the rough streets of London, yet, also rightfully a promoted officer with a family history steeped in Navy tradition. He was, to all aboard, a gentleman and a commoner, the best of both worlds. No one wanted him off the ship when the going was tough.
However, Captain Walker had promised Nathaniel Moore that he would do all in his power to return Jonathan to London. To keep him safe, the best place for him would be off the ship completely. Yes, there was a risk of being marooned there on Isla Sello; however, chances were that a ship would happen by almost weekly, as the strait was the only way around the tip of Africa. If the Danielle were unsuccessful, Jonathan, Sean, and Delain would have a good chance of survival and rescue.
“Captain, I must insist—”
“There will be no insisting, Mr. Moore!” the Captain said, now showing anger. “You are dismissed!”
The weather became noticeably cooler over the next few days as the Danielle traveled south, then turned east with a strong wind at her back. The ship’s crew was busy preparing for slightly rough seas as the ocean about them had turned quickly from pleasant to more than slightly agitated. Jonathan walked the deck alone, thinking of what dreadful events could transpire at his next stop. As he stared out to the sea, he imagined that, like a real person, the ocean had its own moods and purposes that were only slightly understood by those that sailed its waters. At times, it was calm and pleasant company, even welcoming in its beauty. Then, at times of storms, it could be horrible and angry. In the waves, Jonathan could swear he had seen monstrous shapes, sometimes looking like shadowy sea serpents rising and falling, beating down upon the ship mercilessly. Many men aboard believed there were truly evil creatures in the sea, giant whales and monstrous squids with tentacled arms that could sink a ship by grasping it and dragging all to the dark, cold depths. Some believed in sirens that would appear as beautiful women swimming in the water, only to change into hideous apparitions that would drive the crew insane with their screeching and wailing, until they went mad and dove into the sea to drown.
