H.M.S Valor

by Cal Clement

  “Can you hold her steady?” he asked.

  “I believe so.” Lilith answered, a little unsure.

  “Well, we’ll find out in a hurry if you can’t,” James quipped as he let go and stepped away to see to the fallen helmsman. The man had taken quite a hit to the head when the wave threw him into the wheel, and he was out cold. Captain James tried to wake him with little result when Chibs approached.

  “We strayed closer to the shoreline than I thought James. We aren’t going to hit the rocks, but those ships in the bay will surely see us.” Chibs rasped. He looked like a man drowned in the sea and returned from the abyss.

  “Not much we can do about it now I guess; they’ve probably spotted us already. No matter Chibs, we’ll ride out this weather and be waiting for them when it clears. This must be the anchorage the slaver told us about, wouldn’t you say?” James asked.

  “Aye, Captain, I’d say it is.” Chibs concurred.

  “It won’t be the sneak attack we’d hoped for. But when those slaver ships leave the bay, I mean to lay them on the bottom,” said James. A flash of lightning danced across the sky as he spoke illuminating has face and emphasizing his deadly intentions.

  “Captain, we risk killing all aboard. If they have slaves in their holds…” Chibs voice trailed off as the Captain met his gaze.

  “I know Chib. The best we could hope for are empty holds I suppose. How could we know with any certainty?” James asked. Lilith, still at the wheel had overheard the dilemma.

  “Captain, the Shepherd was taking slaves from this anchorage to America. If those slavers turn north once they exit the bay, that would mean they are holding slaves, yes?” Lilith said, both men looked at each other and then at the girl manning the wheel. The solution had been staring at them, they both had just failed to see it.

  “Aye, Lilith. If they turn north, they will surely have to be hauling slaves.” Chibs answered.

  “What would you do then girl? If the ships leave the bay and turn north?” James probed. Lilith squinted a little thinking through the scenario thoroughly.

  “I suppose if they turn north, we could follow them at a distance perhaps? Maybe lure one of them off and force her to strike colors the way the other Americans did?” Lilith said. It seemed almost too simple a solution, but it was all she could come up with. Chibs laughed, drawing a sideways look from Lilith.

  “I suppose that’s the best plan any of us could hope for. Lilith, you may make a fine Captain someday. I’d sail under your banner,” he said warmly. Lilith smiled at the compliment and stowed her reservations at Chibs’ humor, irritated with herself for thinking he was laughing at her expense.

  “Once the storm breaks, we will do just that. But I hope those bastards turn southward, I have a mind to put them all on the bottom. Chibs, hold this course for now. We’ll circle back around and hopefully catch them as they leave,” said James. The tone of his voice betrayed his blood lust, an almost tangible excitement at the prospect of engaging the slavers ship to ship. “Then we will storm their camp with every available hand.” Lightning emphasized his point again, flashing through the sky and silhouetting the rigging against the decks.

  After just a couple hours the winds began to slack to a stiff but manageable level. The rains waned as well as the seas until there was just a steady drizzling over short choppy waves. The Maiden had turned east after running up the coast for about an hour and with the storm dying down, Chibs had her come around back toward the coast. Sunrise crested over the eastern horizon, filling a thin band of open sky between the horizon and a cloud line of overcast grey with brilliant sunshine. The sun burned through its path not quite two hours before it was occluded by the thick layer of rainclouds stretching across the sky. The storm from the previous night seemed to be summoning an encore, the southern skies were lined with thick, dark cloud formations that hung very low in the air above the sea surface. Captain James had remained on deck, allowing Chibs’ to get some needed rest after manning the watch during much of the storm. Lilith came back up on deck after short rest. Her clothes were still soaked through and with the seas calming she relished the breeze, the smell of the sea seemed even stronger after the storm.

  “Lilith!” Captain James called over to her as he looked over the bow through his glass. The eastern coast of Jamaica peeking back into view on the horizon. “Fly the black, girl.”

  “Aye Captain!” Lilith answered a chill of excitement running down her spine.

  “Someone fetch Chibs from his hammock and see to it the guns are all made ready!” James clamored out, sending deckhands scrambling.

  Lilith raised the ship’s black flag, with its horned skull, trident and broken chain. Lilith felt a sense of pride sweep over her as the breeze filled the flag. She looked at the white broken chain running across the bottom of the black field and a knot rose into her throat. She thought of her mother, wondering what had become of her. She thought of Captain James and Chibs and all the changed fates of the slaves aboard the Shepherd. She remembered the washroom from the estate in Haiti and the ill intent of Francis, she vividly pictured his eyes, how they glazed over with fear when she plunged the knife into his throat. The sound of gun ports opening interrupted her thoughts and a woman on the crew approached handing her a sword and a set of pistols.

  “Miss Lilith, the Captain’s ordered us all to prepare for battle. You’ll be needing these.”

  “Thank you.” Lilith replied, she buckled a thick leather belt around her middle tucking sword and pistols into place. Looking back up at the black flag her eyes met the empty black eyes of the horned skull. She then turned her gaze out over the larboard rail where the Unholy Shepherd matched pace abreast of the Drowned Maiden. They unfurled their black flag; the horned skull and trident were identical but the broken chain across the bottom was blood red. It was Captain Trina’s subtle nod to James, a confirmation of sorts that the Maiden remained the flag ship of their small fleet. Aboard the Shepherd the crew was in a flurry, arming up and readying their guns. Captain James walked up onto the quarterdeck and nodded over to Lilith.

  “Beautiful, but fearsome.” He said.

  “She is, well both ships really Captain.” Lilith replied looking back up at the black flag raised high over the stern.

  “I agree. But to be honest. It wasn’t the ships I was speaking of.” James looked over, meeting her gaze.

  “Captain I…” Lilith started to reply but her words cut short by a lookout up in the crow’s nest.

  “Sail HO! Captain, a ship outside the bay!”

  H.M.S Valor

  14 Sept 1808

  18 Degrees 2’ N, 76 Degrees 6’ W

  “Man overboard! You there, a lifeline and be quick about it!” shouted a petty officer at the rail. A sailor from aloft had lost his footing when the Valor was rocked by a wave and had fallen. Luckily, the man did not fall onto the deck of the ship missing by only a few feet. Sailors scrambled to get a line out to save their shipmate. The fallen sailor’s head bobbed up the crest of a wave, he was only a few feet off the side of the Valor and just out of arms reach below the rail. When the line was thrown, it hit the water trailing just in front of him. Will had run to the side of the ship along with the rest of the crew on deck. The movement of the Valor drug the line away from grasp just before the man could reach it.

  “Another line! Hurry men! Get a line out on the stern!” William shouted. In a flash of lightning Will could see a large swell approaching the side of the Valor. In an instant it hit, before Will could warn anyone, the wave smashed into the side of the frigate battering everyone on board and causing another man climbing down from the rigging to fall. He was not so lucky as the first, hitting the deck of the storm-tossed ship with a sickening thud. Blood spattered the men standing near as he hit the deck and mixed with the seawater still frothing across the ship. Midshipman Ordman stood over the man’s body, mouth agape, face twisted by fear and shock. Around him, a flurry of activity continued, but Ordman was frozen. He was th
e officer of the watch and had ordered the crew aloft to reef and tie the top gallants, now one man was swimming for his life and another likely dead. Will watched as the man overboard swam furiously for a grasp at the second lifeline, he missed the end of the line by mere inches. Another line at the stern drug by him, but the force of the waves was pulling him farther away from the ship. Each lunge the man attempted seemed to just barely miss. Sailor aboard the Valor screamed out encouragements to him, they started at the rail on the side of the ship and each time he missed a grab they yelled for him to keep trying. Eventually, the men were shouting over the fantail of the ship back at the man. His swim pace had gone from frantically racing at first, slowing as he tired and as the Valor slipped further and further away until he surrendered to just fighting to keep his head above the water.

  Ordman’s distraught look betrayed his thoughts, Will knew exactly what the young officer was about to say. One man was likely dead, he would order the ship around and attempt to save the other. Will stepped over to say something to Ordman, trying to prevent him from making an order he shouldn’t. But before he could Ordman shouted out,

  “Bring her about, helmsman hard a larboard. We have to rescue him!” Ordman yelled.

  “Belay that order! Hold your course man!” Will interrupted, grabbing Ordman’s coat by the shoulder he turned the Midshipman towards him. “Don’t make a bad situation worse by panicking. He is lost to the sea lad, that’s the truth of it. We can’t endanger the entire ship by attempting to turn her around in this weather.” Ordman looked at Will with sullen and defeated eyes, he was out of his depth in the storm and losing two of the crew was only compounding his missteps. The ship lurched forward again, lightening split the sky revealing both fearful and somber looks across the deck. Kingston was their destined port, but until the storm died all William could ask was to hold course and try to keep the Valor upright. It was by far the most severe weather he had ever sailed in. Wind and wave battered the ship and tested the crew. Interspersed by flashes of lightning, the darkness of night with no moon or stars quickly became disorienting. Lanterns that went out had to be taken below deck to be relit on account of the wind. The night drug on slowly, watch change brought no rest for the sailors being relieved. Below decks smelled of sickness as stomachs spilled into buckets or onto deck boards. Even the saltiest sea hands were fighting motion sickness and panic below decks.

  Captain Grimes made a tour through the ship shortly after midnight. On deck he visited with the officer on watch, shouted words over the brunt gusts of wind under hats dripping from rain and seawater. They were keeping the Valor perpendicular to the swells and maintaining a westerly course as best they could, the officer assured him. Grimes calculated their land sighting would come just after dawn, but he made the climb up to the lookout anyway, just to ensure they remained alert through the difficult conditions. Climbing back down to the deck proved treacherous and difficult even for an experienced man like Johnathan Grimes, the motion of the ship was greatly exaggerated at height above the deck and the ratlines were all soaked through from the driving rain. Grimes made his way below and checked through the officer berthing, seeing to it the officers fresh off watch were taking rest as best they could. Then he made his way down into the hold, checking on the men working the bilge baffles and seeing to the carpenter’s mate as he took measurement of the standing water in the hold.

  “What are we at?” Grimes asked as the man in near waist deep water took a measurement.

  “Two feet eight inches Sir, we were holding around two feet for a while, but we took on quite a bit of water through the last hour. I’m afraid the bilges won’t be able to keep up if this storm keeps tossing us about the way it is Sir. We could be in real trouble,” the sailor admonished, a cautious look on his weary face.

  “They’ll have to. This storm isn’t likely to just vanish, and we won’t be near enough land to make a run for calmer water until dawn at least. Keep the bilges running, relieve them with men from the resting watch if you must.” The Captain replied curtly. He gave the sailor a knowing look, it was a difficult task but crucial to the survival of the entire ship and crew.

  “Aye Sir. We’ll see to it.” The man said turning back to his pump crew.

  The ship’s surgeon, Doctor Crowsner, was seeing to the sailor who’d fallen onto the deck when Grimes opened the door to the doctor’s cabin.

  “How is he Doctor? Will the lad survive?” Grimes asked.

  “Not sure yet, though time will tell. It’s not likely I’m afraid and even if he does a blow to the head like that can leave a man a fool for the rest of his days. If he survives, but like I said,” his voice trailed off.

  “Right. Ok, as always Doctor. Thank you for your services. Please, if the young man expires, do come inform me immediately.” Grimes said, his tone betraying the heaviness he felt at losing another sailor. It was not the first man the Captain had lost under his command and there would undoubtedly be more. Grimes carried in his mind the face of each perished sailor, men he’d come to know well. Serving in cramped space and austere conditions had a way of bringing men together closer than brothers. Each one surrendered to the sea or lost to the enemy was a family member gone, yet the journey continued in their absence. Relics were often left behind, a set of initials carved out in an obscure spot aboard ship or a possession taken up by a particularly close friend. These brought some comfort to the remaining crew, as if their shipmate carried on as part of them while their relic was still aboard. A stocking cap or a looking glass, a sailor’s favored mug, a song or a tale of a girl in some port somewhere. Each man left his mark on the crew as a whole and even after their deaths, their impact remained.

  Retiring to his cabin Johnathan crossed paths with Will on his way down from the quarterdeck.

  “Any show of relief from the storm Will?”

  “No, Sir. Unfortunately, not. I’ve never seen seas this fierce before.” Will said, wiping his face with his sleeve.

  “The seas will calm; the storm will subside. We must keep the crew about their wits, first and foremost. When everything is hell out there, your best place to focus is right on deck lad,” the Captain encouraged.

  “Yes Sir.” Will replied.

  “We should have a sighting of land shortly after five bells, so long as we haven’t drifted off course too far. I’m going to get some rest Will, wake me before dawn and see to it extra lookouts are posted around four bells,” said Johnathan.

  “Aye Sir,” Will answered, “Does the Doctor have any news of the sailor who fell to the deck Sir? He was alive when he hit, the crew on deck have been inquiring.”

  “Nothing good. The doctor is seeing after him now, though he may be waking me before you get the chance to, I’m afraid. We’ll see to arrangements for him when we know more lad.”

  “Sir. There’s something bothering me about the circumstance. It was Timmons who validated what Mr. Shelton claimed happened during the engagement last month.” Will extolled hurriedly.

  “Aye, what of it?” Grimes replied with a confused note playing across his look.

  “Sir. Timmons validated Mr. Shelton’s story, Cobb was derated and flogged and then Timmons falls from the rigging? Cobb was aloft with him, though I don’t know how close the two men were working. Timmons was, er, is an experienced hand. I wouldn’t have thought twice about it, even with the coincidence of other circumstances involving Cobb. But it wasn’t a landsman who fell from the rigging and that makes me suspicious.” Will rattled, barely able to get the words out fast enough. Grimes could see his second in command was severely troubled by his suspicions. But too many questions remained for anything to be done about it at the moment. Had Cobb done something aloft to cause him to fall? Would Timmons survive his condition? Would he be right in the head if he did survive? An ache filled Johnathan’s temples.

  “We must watch the man. See to it that Cobb is not left alone, least of all with Shelton. There isn’t proof enough to place the man in irons, let alone h
ang him, though I’m beginning to suspect, Will, it won’t end until we do just that,” said Grimes. His look was weary, even more so after Will bore out his suspicions. The Lieutenant regretted sharing his suspicions. The Captain went into his cabin, as Will returned to the quarterdeck to find the winds subsiding slightly. The ship still heaved and rolled with the swells, but gradually over the next two hours wind and wave both lessened. Rain still drizzled, keeping the soaking sea hands aboard from dryness or comfort.

  As the eastern horizon began to show the early glow of coming dawn, William called for a sailor from the watch.

  “Pass my compliments to Captain Grimes and inform him it is half past four bells, dawn is neigh.” Will instructed.

  “Aye Sir.” The sailor replied, snapping to his task. Will turned to the quartermaster’s mate at the helm and began to reckon their heading. They had been holding steady on a westerly course for the last couple hours, if the Captain had judged their course correctly, they should be sighting land soon. Tired from night and battered by the storm, the crew relished rest but the morning would be need to be spent pumping out the hold, drying out what supplies could be salvaged and sorting through any damage sustained in the foul weather. To Will’s knowledge, a stay on the foremast would need to be replaced and the blocks for the top gallants on the mainmast were fouled. Along with a tack sail that had split in several places, the tasks ahead promised it would be hours before he took rest.

  Will had placed extra lookouts aloft and on the bow as the Captain had asked, he was on his way forward to take a look toward the western horizon when Grimes came up onto the deck. The massive rolling swells had reduced into a sea of short, choppy waves under a strong but steady west blowing wind.

  “Well done Will. Let’s get the crew set to it. Any damage from the storm?” Johnathan asked. Will began to go through the list of tasks he had just been thinking through when the lookout above relayed down,