H.M.S Valor

by Cal Clement

  “Oh and Mr. Pike.” Grimes started again.

  “Yes Captain?” William said.

  “Have that wound attended to, you can’t carry about all afternoon holding your face like that.” Grimes said with a grin.

  “Aye Sir.” William responded. He hadn’t forgotten the wound, it was too painful for that, but he was taken aback a bit that the Captain showed as much concern as he did. His other commanders retired to their quarters after battle, Grimes was making rounds with the crew, checking wounded, lamenting over the dead, giving instruction to the sailors where it was needed. This man was completely present, in tune with his ship and his crew. William’s chest swelled with pride, both in his Captain and in their crew and what they had collectively just accomplished. With a French warship still in chase, there was an air of tension about, but the victorious crew was high on adrenaline and stiff following winds. “Three cheers for Captain Grimes! Master of the seas! Master of the Valor!” a sailor cried out.

  “Hip hip huzzah!” the crew responded in turn.

  A song broke out up in the rigging as they pulled further away from the sloop, at one-point Captain Grimes could be heard lending his voice to the chorus. It was a glorious hour to be on the deck of the Valor and the entire crew’s confidence was with their Captain and his First Lieutenant.

  16 Aug 1808

  Governor’s Mansion - Kingston, Jamaica

  Governor Alton sat at the desk of his study. He was nervously awaiting a visit from Timothy Sladen. Disturbing news had arrived from a mutual associate of theirs in the United States. Their most recently expected ship, containing thousands of pounds of raw sugar had not arrived when expected. There were no reports of storms yet, though the season was approaching. The chances of the ship being taken by a pirate vessel still lingered, or perhaps the captain had gone rogue and taken the cargo for his own profit. There was also the chance, however small, the vessel had been taken as contraband by an American Navy vessel. These matters weighed on the Governor in his stuffy study as the sun beat into the west facing windows behind him. He shifted and fidgeted uncomfortably while examining charts of the route the missing vessel likely took. Likely, they had been very specifically instructed to adhere to a designated route. Both for their own protection and that of the mutual proprietors organizing the endeavor. Alton knew he was out of his depth looking over navigational charts and trying to decipher anywhere trouble would have arisen. He needed a man skilled in naval matters such as Admiral Sharpe, but that was a risk he could not afford to take. Attention from Elliot Sharpe in this matter would undoubtedly result in difficult questions arising, questions Governor Alton could not afford to have answered, questions he had sworn to ensure remain unasked and unanswered.

  Timothy erupted into the study door, letting it swing and abruptly hit the adjacent bookshelves. It impacted with enough force that several books tipped and rolled charts sitting high atop the uppermost shelf fell off dropping to the floor. Mr. Sladen’s face was flushed red, his scarred neck all the more pronounced through the added circulation of his temper.

  “You guaranteed Alton. You guaranteed us safe passage and we have now lost a ship. There are parties who will be expecting compensation and some god damned answers. I am here to see to that,” said Sladen. His tone failing utterly to disguise his contempt toward the fat governor.

  “You may be irritated with me Timothy, but you will remember. I am a Lord and the Governor of the colony in which you are conducting your enterprise. You would do well to remember that and address me according to my social rank and title,” said Alton, his tone growing more indignant with each syllable. The tension in the room simmered and Sladen walked back to the door, gently and deliberately closing it as Alton spoke. He slid the bolt closed between the double doors leading out into the grand atrium and turned back to the governor as he finished his arrogant drivel.

  “I warned you, Lord Governor,” Tim began, sarcasm dripping from the title as it left his mouth, “There is far too much invested into this enterprise for it to fail. I assure you, Lord Governor, you are amongst the lowest order involved, whether you care to accept that matters not. You will see to it that this situation does not repeat itself. There are other Lord Governors and there are other islands.” Tim had walked back in front of the Governor’s desk and now stood looking down at him. Timothy’s countenance toward Alton had never been to the Governor’s liking. Governor Alton preferred sycophants, unquestioning and unchallenging, typically of lower ambition and intelligence.

  “I can arrange a search for the missing vessel. It will take some time, but I believe we will be able to recover it and at least some portion of her profits.” Alton replied, hoping to placate the American.

  “Very well, Lord Governor,” said Sladen, his tone softening slightly. “But the cost of that lost vessel goes far beyond a ship, a few bags of goods and a lost crew.” As Tim spoke, he slowly turned sitting in one of the plush ornate chairs in front of the Governor’s desk. He very deliberately drew out a thin dagger which had been concealed in his waistband as he sat. Tim placed the tip of the dagger on the arm of the chair and spun it in his hand, drilling a small divot in the wood of the chair arm. The blade flashed off of the sunlight pouring in behind the Governor and menacingly glared into his eyes with each turn. Sladen continued, “Perhaps, we have the appropriate island. I’m just unconvinced we have the ideal Governor for such a sensitive and profitable operation. Arrangements could possibly be made to rectify this.” He spoke almost to himself. “But I believe you can salvage this situation, Lord Governor. Please make search arrangements with all haste. That vessel is to be located only. Under no circumstance should any Royal Navy vessel approach beyond maximum range. Locate her and report her whereabouts back to me immediately upon discovery. I will handle the recovery of her cargo myself.”

  “I will dispatch instruction to Elliot immediately then,” Alton began to reply.

  “Absolutely not, that man already has far too many questions. If it were up to me, he would be assigned elsewhere and replaced with someone more amiable,” Sladen interrupted.

  “Ok. Admiral Sharpe is the commander of the fleet assigned to the Caribbean. I could, however, issue special orders to the frigate I am expecting late this month. I will dispatch orders to the Governor in Nassau, sealed for the Captain of the frigate. His first task will be to patrol the north Caribbean for our lost merchant ship, locate and follow her, sending word of her whereabouts at the first opportunity. Will that suffice?” Alton replied almost pleadingly, his concentration broken by several glances at the dagger under Tim’s index finger.

  “Very good, Lord Governor. I suppose we won’t be needing this after all.” Tim said, replacing the dagger into his waistband. “You would do well to keep me informed Alton. These matters need to be handled with every manner of urgency and care.” He stood and in his usual manner, without observing any departing gestures, left as abruptly as he had entered. Governor Alton sat, thoroughly unnerved as he penned the discussed orders to the incoming frigate. He called for one of his servants as he sealed the orders into the envelope.

  “Yes, Lord Governor?” The servant said as he entered the study.

  “Have this sent at once on the next ship destined for Nassau. If you cannot find one, inform me at once and I will commission a clipper myself.” Alton said, handing over the sealed envelope and immediately mopping sweat off his brow with a kerchief.

  “Yes, my Lord.” The servant replied. Exiting at once to accomplish his task, he examined the envelope as he placed it into his pocket. On the front it read, “For the eyes of the Captain, H.M.S Valor by order of Lord Governor Alton.”

  “Drowned Maiden”

  5 Aug 1808

  18 Degrees 46’ N, 74 Degrees 44’ W

  Aboard the main deck of the “Drowned Maiden” a debate was ongoing amongst the senior crew. The Captain looked on as the conversation covered everything from what to do with the captured ship and its crew to the fate of the freed s
laves. Chibs had remained uncharacteristically silent through most of the arguments back and forth, remaining at the Captain’s side. The two had quietly held a discussion amongst themselves and Chibs waited until a lull in the debate to present their plan to the crew.

  “I say we load all the goods aboard. The slavers are all locked up! Let the Africans make their own way!” said one of the crew with small reaction from the onlookers.

  “They won’t make it half a day on the sea without any experienced crew among them. We should elect another Captain for her and refit the slave hauler as another for us!” another sailor shouted. This drew a much warmer response and several cheers of approval. Chibs shared a satisfied look over his shoulder with the Captain, who nodded his approval.

  “Very well then.” Chibs announced, walking to the middle of the crew on deck, “We will hold an election for a Captain of the prize ship. She will sail in concert with us and we will assist in her refit. Do I have any opposed?” The crew remained silent, mostly looking at each other in a sense of solidarity.

  “What of the slaver ship’s crew?” Trina shouted over as she assisted one of the newly freed women up to the cross plank.

  “What to do with the slaver crew?” the Captain stepped onto the rail shouting out above the crowd of crew and refugees. “What would we do with a man who would sell another into bondage for profit?” He looked out over the crew and freed slaves who had all fallen silent, their collective gaze locked upon him. “This matter won’t be left for a vote. Chibs robbed me the pleasure of cutting down their Captain. We keep three, to identify their port in Jamaica, the rest are to be bound and tossed overboard. Any hand who disagrees, meet me on the quarterdeck with steel in hand!” Silence followed until the Captain stepped off the rail back onto the deck of the Maiden, when a cheer erupted from the crew. Every hand set to work, bringing the slaver crew up to the starboard rail of their ship, binding their hands with hemp rope and promptly shoving them overboard.

  Lilith had avoided much of the commotion involved with the slaver crew, not that she objected to the Captain’s orders, she had occupied herself with helping several of the freed slaves across to the Maiden. Once she had them settled in on the deck a group of four of the Maiden’s crew met her on the cross plank, escorting the chosen prisoners to their Captain for his approval.

  “Separate that first man there, girl. He was the slaver’s first mate. The Captain will be wanting a word with him first,” rattled one of the men. Lilith, unsure of how to proceed with taking the large man to the Captain, hesitated momentarily.

  “Here beauty,” Trina interjected, “Place that sword to his back and grab the back of his waistband.” She demonstrated while instructing the Maiden’s new recruit. “If he struggles or resists you girl, you hit here, on the back of his knee and then drive your blade through his neck and out his throat.” Lilith was thankful for the quick instruction and she promptly marched the man over to the Captain who was very eager to glean information from the man.

  “Fetch me a chair and some line, girl. We’ll exchange our introductions when you return, it occurs to me we haven’t properly met.” Said the Captain as he lit a brazier on the larboard rail.

  “Aye Captain.” Lilith replied, imitating Chibs’ manner as best she could. She went below and sought the items the Captain requested. Finding both requested items quickly with help from Trina, whom Lilith felt a slight kinship with after the morning’s events, she returned to the quarterdeck. Lilith found the Captain holding his sword in the flames of the lit brazier.

  “She returns!” He said, “You two,” he gestured to Chibs and another sailor standing nearby, “Tie this man to the chair and lean him back onto the rail. We will see what each of these are made of.” Lilith’s blood ran cold. Could he be referring to her also? What had she done that would cause him to say this? The Captain approached her, his unbuttoned shirt revealing a deeply scarred chest and handed her the sword which was red hot near the point.

  “My name is James. What’s yours girl?” He asked making deliberate eye contact with Lilith.

  “It’s Lilith Sir,” she answered, her heart still pounding from the thought he had held some ill intention a moment ago.

  “Ok, Lilith. Well, we are going to get some answers out of this shit stain of a slaver. When I signal for it, you pull that blade from the brazier and you put it flat on his damned chest. When I tell you to remove it you put it straight back into the flame. Do you understand?” Captain James said holding eye contact so intense Lilith could feel a sense of broiling rage just under the surface of his demeanor.

  “Yes Sir.” She answered. Captain James walked over to the man, now tied to the chair and held in a lean against the rail by Chibs and the other sailor. He stood over the panicking prisoner for a moment and removed his shirt, exposing his scarred chest and back glistening with perspiration in the tropic heat. The sailor’s protests escalated from murmurs to shouts and then seeing the Captain’s scars, he fell silent.

  “I’m going to ask you a few questions sailor. We’ll get some answers out of you, or we won’t. It really makes no difference to me. I already have my scars, they’ve all healed. How many you get depends on the speed and quality of your answers. Understand?” Captain James asked.

  “Y y yes,” he stammered.

  “Where do you take on the slaves?” James began the interrogation staring down at the quivering man.

  “We’ve picked up slaves from an anchorage off the nor’east corner of the island. Always after we make port and take on goods in Kingston,” the sailor stuttered and stumbled over his words, rushing to get them out.

  “Very good, and where are they destined?” James asked pressing further. An instant look of panic crossed the man’s face.

  “I don’t know where this lot was headed. We’ve unloaded them in several different…” he began answering. The sailor’s answer was not to Captain James’ liking, James motioned over to Lilith. There was no hesitation from the girl, she hefted the large cutlass and placed the glowing blade flat across the captured sailor’s chest. The man writhed against his restraints and screamed in agony; the smell of seared flesh permeated the air. Lilith looked to Captain James for his sign to remove the hot blade, but it did not come. Instead, he leaned close to the sailor he was questioning.

  “I got these scars on my chest in this very manner. From a man like you, on a ship like that. I watched him throw my family overboard. He stole my mother from me, he stole my father and my siblings. Then he delivered me to market where I was sold to the man who gave me the scars on my back,” said Captain James. His voice was low, full of simmering anger. He stood, waving Lilith off back to the brazier with the cutlass. James turned, looking out over the fantail. “I’ll ask you again. Where was your destination?” He asked in a menacing voice.

  “I know we were destined for the Carolinas, which port I don’t know exactly, God’s truth Sir, I’m never told exactly which port the slaves are to be delivered in until we are almost there. It was the Captain’s way,” the man rattled out. He struggled to fit words in between his panting breaths and Lilith could see he was struggling to stay coherent.

  “Your anchorage in Jamaica. How many slavers does it harbor? And how far inland are the slaves held?” James asked. His voice returned to a somewhat even tone, though Lilith noted he was glancing over at the cutlass as he spoke.

  “At least five ships. The most I ever counted was four anchored plus ours. The slaver camp is only a few miles inland,” the sailor choked out. James smiled, apparently pleased with the now forthcoming information.

  “How many in the camp?” asked James, the smile almost immediately gone from his face. The sailor squirmed again, panic returned to his face and he looked at James with pleading eyes. Before he could offer any reasoning or plea for James’ mercy, the captain motioned for Lilith and the cutlass which was once again glowing with heat. Lilith drew the sword and moved to place the blade flat on the man’s chest again. James leaned over a
nd with one hand rotated the blade slightly to bear the edge against the sailor’s flesh. Lilith let the cutlass rest on the man’s chest just below the last burn.

  “Please, no, no. I never went ashore there! Please girl, no!” the sailor pleaded, screaming through smoke from his own flesh and blood sizzling and crackling off the hot blade. Lilith looked over to James who slowly shook his head, she leaned more pressure down on the hilt of the cutlass. The sharp blade had worked it’s way deep into the man’s chest and his screams were fading with exhaustion and a state of delirious shock from the pain. Captain James grew tired of the line of questioning, he walked over and broke Lilith’s grip of the cutlass with his own. Then, taking the sword in two hands and with a sweeping blow James relieved the sailor of his agony along with his head.

  Lilith stood in a slight state of shock, she could feel her limbs trembling. James walked away as Chibs and the other crewman dumped the body overboard. Blood lay in small puddles at the foot of the chair, the wind had shifted slightly and was now in Lilith’s face. Despite the breeze she could feel her face flushing and her chest felt hollow as if she could not get enough air into her lungs to satiate the urge to breathe. The rolling of the deck exaggerated and suddenly the world around her started to spin. Lilith made her way to the rail and heaved the contents of her stomach overboard. There were shouts and cheers from the crew. Almost instantly feeling better Lilith turned, embarrassed by her lapse of constitution she looked for direction from Chibs. He gave the young girl a warm, knowing smile and escorted her up to the bow of the Maiden.