Sailing Orders

by David O'Neil

  “Well, you have your money. Why don’t go and leave us in peace.”

  Harvey arrived. Martin asked him, “Was there any money in your cabin when you were taken?”

  Harvey looked angry, “I had 240 guineas in my safe, “T’was to buy a new ship I had my eye on. Taken me near five years to collect it.”

  Martin stepped round the desk to the still-open safe and retrieved the bag from the shelf. Fending off the Governor he said, “Would this be the gold?”

  Harvey swore, “Dammne!” He said. “T’is my own bag. See, there is my name on it.”

  Martin looked and saw the name Walter Harvey, faintly written on the side of the bag.

  “Count it.” Martin said. All three stood and watched while Harvey counted the golden guineas, there were 30 short. Martin picked up the money from the desk where the Governor had placed it and returned it to the bag. “That’s your money back, Harvey.” Turning to the Governor he said, “Now the 30 guineas in payment, or its equivalent.”

  “How dare you…..” He spluttered incoherently.

  “Shall I help myself then?” Martin suggested reasonably.

  The little man found some coins elsewhere in the safe and put a quantity in a bag and passed it to Martin.

  “If I find you have short changed these men, I will return and take all your money.” Martin said seriously. With that he turned, gestured to Harvey, and left the house.

  He gave the bag of wage money to Harvey. “Pass this round to your fellows. It is some payment for the work you have all done for the past weeks.”

  Harvey was nearly in tears. His own bag of money returned and rescue from this cursed place was far more than he had bargained for.

  He turned to Martin. “Sir. Will you hold this for me until we reach Kingston?”

  Martin took the heavy bag and hung it on the high pommel of his saddle. “I’ll ask the Captain to keep it in his safe-box for you.”

  Chapter seven

  Diversions

  The harbor at Kingston was busy with small craft. The collection of inter-island trading craft made navigation difficult when HMS Arun entered with L’Orgueil in company. The jury rig had survived the voyage from Guadeloupe, and the prize was sent in to shipyard hands for proper refit.

  Having examined the ship Bowers was confident she would be bought by the Navy and, with the prize money from the schooner plus her valuable cargo, the officers and crew were accumulating a comfortable sum in prize money, for those who wished to save it.

  Martin contemplated the account proffered to him by the Crown Agent in Kingston. He was now wealthier than his father had ever claimed to be. The moneys from the two prizes taken in the Mediterranean plus his share of the other prizes taken by the Arun now totalled more than £1.000 pounds. He also had the sword presented by the Marine Society for his actions in taking the galley and the French corvette, plus £100 waiting for him at his Eastney home.

  He attended the reception at Government House along with his fellow officers and found himself intrigued and captivated by a young lady. His experience with women had been limited by his career at sea, and thus was only with Jane and Jennifer Bowers. This was something quite different, and the fact that the young lady in question seemed close to his own age, though in fact at least two years older, mattered little as he found himself involved in the intricate fastenings of the lady’s clothing and revealing delightful areas of previously unthought-of interest.

  Just over sixteen years may seem young to some, but already he was a man in stature and in presence. This night had been an education for the young man, who, for the first time, found that his experience up to now lacked the section dealing with the interaction between a man and woman, who was not a wife. He mentally corrected himself, who was not his wife. The lady concerned being the young, but by no means inexperienced, wife of a planter currently occupied with the harvest of fruit, on the other side of the island.

  Martin was feeling a little guilty this morning, since the lady was married, and also because of Jennifer Bowers in Eastney, with whom he was corresponding regularly. It has to be said that the lessons he was being given by his lady friend, were so new and exciting, that little else occupied his mind for the moment.

  Captain Bowers had been in the company when Martin had been selected by the lady in question. As a man of the world and knowing that the lady’s interest was transient, and guessing that Martin was innocent thus far, Bowers decided that the experience would do the lad good in the long run. It did no harm to have some idea of how to carry on with a new wife, when that time came.

  For three incredible nights Martin was transported by the lady, to pleasures he had never really dreamed of, though the fourth day was a sad let down as the husband reappeared. This ended Martin’s introduction to the mutual delights of intercourse between man and woman.

  Captain Bowers had decided to send out the schooners on independent cruises to look for pirates. For Martin it was fortuitous that a ketch had been taken and brought in for naval service. True to his promise to further Martin’s education whenever it was possible, he appointed Martin to her command.

  Thus, for Martin, his misery was overborne by the work entailed in the crewing and taking over command of the ketch, now designated a cutter, of eight guns. His immediate future, a period in command of HMS Sparrow, would give him enough to distract his mind from other matters.

  Senior Midshipman John Reed from the Arun had been made acting Lieutenant, as Martin’s second in command and Midshipman Charles Morgan had been supplied from the pool of prize crews in the dockyard. At fourteen years he had seen action and was progressing well with his studies. He did however have a problem with gambling, and the removal from the temptations of Kingston was needed to keep him alive, and out of debtor’s prison. Carter was bosun. With a crew of familiar faces of men he had known for years, plus a generous contribution from the prize crew pool, Martin was apprehensive but reassured at the same time.

  They sailed on a three-week cruise to patrol the Windward Passage, and the coast of Cuba and Hispaniola, both areas renowned for pirate activity.

  Having safely negotiated the harbor entrance the ketch made north-eastward for their cruising area.

  Midshipman Morgan was on duty on deck when Martin spoke, “Are you any relation to the former Governor of Jamaica?”

  Morgan sighed. “Sir, it is the question everyone asks. All I can say is, my family come from Glamorgan, and as far as I can tell we are not related to Admiral Morgan.”

  “Well. Now that is cleared up we can get on with running the ship. So tell me where and how you came to be stuck in Kingston?”

  “I was a member of the crew of Agamemnon under Captain Nelson. While here in Jamaica I was taken with the fever and placed in the hospital to recover. Sadly my ship departed before I was cured. I am thus stuck here until my ship returns, or another ship takes me back to England.”

  “I suspect there will be a place found for you by my Captain, who is a most reasonable man. So let us enjoy our cruise while you talk to me about the waters we are entering.”

  Over the next few days the crew shook down together, and got to know the sailing abilities of their craft. To Martin the cutter was a delight. It was fast and very agile. It could sail on a wet blanket, the draught less than 10 feet with the lifting keel raised. This allowed sailing in waters other ships could not reach. At 87.5 feet long and 22 feet beam, she had plenty of room to accommodate her 34 crew. Her fore and aft sail plan allowed her to sail closer to the wind than any square rigger, though she had a yard on her mainmast to take a square sail when needed. There were cut-outs between the gun ports to take the sweeps, used to move the ship in light airs. The actual sweeps, or oars, were lashed in place alongside the longboat sitting on chocks between the masts. The guns were 6 pounders and seemed small after dealing with the 12 pounders of the Arun’s broadside. The gunner’s mate had been with Martin at Guadeloupe, and he had volunteered for the cruise. Currently he was going o
ver the guns with the designated gun captains. There was additional armament in the form of a long nine pounder in the bow, and a second in the stern, both could be swung to either side of the of the ship.

  The crew was already divided into watches, and the bosun, Carter, was matching them against each other to compare their teamwork under ideal conditions. They were sailing with the wind on the starboard bow and the ketch close hauled.

  The second day out HMS Sparrow reached the edge of the patrol area. The headland of the south western end of Hispaniola loomed on the starboard horizon. The unsettled state of the island had decreed that they would steer clear of contact.

  Lieutenant Reed who had the watch turned to the Master’s Mate, Ben Travers, who was gazing at the distant dark green coastline. “I understand they have plenty of problems with the maroons on Hispaniola.”

  “Maroons?” he paused. “Oh, the escaped slaves. I heard there are thousands there.”

  John Reed thought for a moment. “I believe they are getting organized into some sort of army by one of their number. This end of the island is mostly French, the other end remains Spanish.”

  “Is this not the place of the pirates’ harbor, Tortuga?”

  John Reed looked at Travers quizzically. “Tortuga Island is to the north of the island, long since cleared of the pirates that once used the place. It was also the home of the buccaneers. They were mainly stranded seamen who were marooned here. They slaughtered the wild cattle here and boucained the meat. Cured it, so that it could be kept. Many sold it to passing ships, though others stole the ships, and took to piracy.”

  “Education is a great thing.” The voice of their Captain joined the conversation, taking both men by surprise.

  Martin smiled, pleased to have caught them out. “How are we doing, Mr. Travers?”

  “We are making good ten knots at present, sir. I last checked the log not ten minutes since. She sails well.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Martin looked up at the spread of sail. “Perhaps we could try the topsail, the wind is right.”

  “Aye-aye, sir!” Stepping down the deck he called to the watch. “Hands to make sail. Set the topsail, bosun. Let’s see how she draws in this wind.”

  Carter called the order and watched his men race up the shrouds to release the top sail from the bunt-gasket.

  As the sail dropped from the yard the men on deck hauled the bunt-lines through the blocks to swing the yard and set the sail to the wind.

  When he was satisfied the Master turned to Martin. “Sail set, sir.”

  “Very good, Mr. Travers.”

  After a few minutes he turned to Martin. “Sir, I think I would prefer a little extra weight at the stern. With your permission?”

  “By all means, Mr. Travers, by all means.”

  Travers had the reefs taken out of the mizzen sail Martin noticed the easier motion of the ketch almost immediately and was well pleased. It was the duty of the Master to sail the ship as a professional mariner. It seemed that Travers had the feel of his job, the essential sympathy with the ships movement through the water.

  His mental ramblings were interrupted by the call from the masthead. “Sail-Ho! Hull down on the port bow. From Cuba from the looks of things.”

  “What type ship? Can you see yet?”

  “No, sir. She is only showing topsails. She is square rigged, more than one mast.”

  “Very good. Let me know when you can make her out.”

  Martin turned to Reed who had appeared as soon as he heard the lookout’s call. “Mr. Reed, we will not take any chances. Perhaps we could exercise the guns once more before we get too close to our visitor.”

  Reed turned to the bosun. “Call the men to quarters, bosun.”

  With both watches at their action stations, the guns were run out and the gun drill exercised.

  The approaching ship gradually came into view, a brig that acted in a peculiar manner.

  There was no sign of evasion. Though the course it followed was downwind, it sailed with small jerking movements from side to side. The flag was tattered and appeared to be Dutch, thus highly suspect with the state of things in Europe. Through the glass Martin examined the ship carefully. There were ropes hanging down the sides, and no one seemed to be working the sails at all, despite the fact that they needed trimming. There also seemed to be no one at the wheel. The jerky motion could be explained if the wheel was lashed. The stretch in the wheel ropes would allow the rudder to jerk from side to side.

  “Mr. Morgan Take the boat and board the ship and enquire if they need assistance.” As Morgan turned away, he stopped him. “Arm yourselves. Take the bosun.”

  “Yes, sir,” Morgan said and ran off calling to the bosun to launch the longboat.”

  Hove-to, the cutter rose and fell on the long waves that were channelled between the islands from the Atlantic. Watching the strange ship, Martin was wondering what Morgan was seeing. The sail pattern on the stranger altered as the wheel was brought up and the ship, now identified as a Snow, under Dutch colors, turned into the wind. The boarders rapidly took in the sails and the Hilde drifted in company, just a cable length between them.

  There was a hail from the Dutch ship. The boat was returning leaving Morgan and some of his men aboard.

  Carter came up the side and reported to Martin. “Sir, Mr. Morgan asks that you come across to the Dutchy. He is not sure what to do.”

  “Is there no one aboard? Is that the problem?”

  “I can’t say, sir. I was handling the sails while Mr. Morgan investigated. He told me to come here and ask you to join him.”

  “Very well, Mr. Reed. You have the ship in my absence. Please do not break it.” These words were said with a smile that took any sting from the remark.

  Aboard the Dutch ship Martin was aware of the smell of mustiness. Morgan, waiting anxiously for him, turned impatient to go below.

  “This way, sir,” he said, and led off through the bulkhead door and down a few stairs to the after accommodation.

  The door to the captain’s cabin was jammed shut, probably with the damp, Martin surmised. A strange thing in a ship in this climate. The door had to be forced open by Carter and Peters using brute force.

  The interior was dark and it was difficult to see, the damp smell more apparent here in the long closed room.

  Carter and Peters went to the stern windows, unlatched them and forced them open in their turn.

  The sunlight burst in, illuminating the room while highlighting the mould that seemed to be everywhere. The desk in the centre was piled high with books covered in the rot that also covered the figure sprawled among them. Martin presumed it was, had been, a man.

  “Out of here, everyone. Now! Carter, rig a hose, cover your nose and mouth, and clear the windows and floor of this mess. Try and avoid the books they may tell us the story of this ship. Now, Morgan, what else have you to show me. Let us see the cargo hold and other, cabins if they can be seen?”

  The other cabins were not so bad, there being no other bodies within them. The hold was loaded with timber, teak lengths worth considerable money on the open market. But it was under the timber that the real find was made.

  The carpenter was brought aboard to sound the well and see that the ship was seaworthy. In the bilges, the cavity below the timber cargo contained other items stored. Only these items were not meant to be found.

  Having pumped the bilges as near dry as they could be, the smallest man in the ship was sent in to bring out the concealed cargo. The small figure, filthy from the bilges, dragged out box after box, case after case, filling the space in the saloon. Several of the cases had to be hauled out using block and tackle because of their weight. All of the special cargo was packed in strong metal bound boxes and had survived their incarceration intact.

  The hose was used to wash the boxes down as they appeared. The air was damp still, though the atmosphere in the stern of the ship was now bearable. All the windows had been opened plus the door to the d
eck and roof hatches. The foc’sle had been cleared. There had been no bodies there. The body in the captain’s cabin seemed to be the sole survivor.

  In his cabin, among some of the books that had survived the mould and water, Martin found the log book of the Hilde. The last entry was made six years ago. It was in French, and when he looked back he realized that the previous pages were also in French?

  The final entry was:-

  I have now run out of such food as I can reach. The men have all gone. I expect God will punish them. This trap has done for me. I can see no light anywhere, when this candle dies I suppose I will too.

  The treasure has done us no good. If anyone finds this they are welcome to anything my treacherous crew have missed.

  God have mercy on me,

  Albert Malaise, Captain June 1787

  There were a few rambling comments further but nothing more that the dying scrawl of the starving man. The reason for his entrapment became clear when the body was removed. Both of the man’s legs had been broken above the knee, when he had been trapped, apparently thrust up against the desk, by some shock to the ship perhaps.

  Martin sat back and considered. There was often volcanic activity in this part of the world.

  He looked back at the entries prior to calamity.

  Approached the coast of Cuba with caution. The bay is open and the cave is where the map shows it to be. The gentle current goes into the cave, but I will anchor here and explore by boat.

  There was a hasty entry obviously made later that same day.

  I have ordered the anchor raised. There is movement in the ground and the sea is rising. We are trying to claw out of the bay but the current is driving us into the cave. There are rocks moving…….

  The ship is trapped and I have been injured. My cowardly crew have taken the boat to escape but I fear that they too have succumbed, to the power of the earth. I have little food and water here at my desk, so my pain will not last long. God help me.