by Cal Clement
“It’s nothing. I’ll be fine. Are we taking on water?” William said, covering the wound just above his hip.
“No Sir,” the young officer replied, “All battle damage was taken above the waterline.”
“Very well Shelton, let’s get to it. Repairs must start immediately, rudder and mast first.”
“Aye Sir.” Shelton replied. William awed for a second at the resilient spirit of the crew. After the beating they had taken and already men were making order of the chaos. No, Will thought to himself, we’re not beaten just yet. Before descending into the Captain’s cabin to see to his commander’s condition, Will turned and surveyed the deck of the Valor. Sailors were already at work righting fouled lines and tossing debris overboard, the repairs would take days maybe even weeks. The sight of the ships that had engaged them escaping south while the Valor sat in tatters brought a visceral rage boiling through Will’s mind. “So help me,” Will said aloud to no one in particular while he pointed at the escaping pirates, “I will kill their skipper and lay those ships on the bottom.”
16 Sept 1808
Kingston, Jamaica - Governor’s Mansion
Governor Alton awoke to the sound of his chamber door slamming open. Peering out of bed curtains with bleary eyes he could not distinguish who approached. Sitting up, he tried to rub sleep from his eyes. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.
“You have disappointed me for the last time you bumbling fool. I’m here to rectify your incompetent errors,” came the voice of Tim Sladen. In a flash the bed curtains were torn away, and Governor Alton could clearly see Mr. Sladen standing at his bedside with a pair of fearsome looking men standing beside him. One held a lantern which cast an eerie glow onto their faces and drew towering shadows onto the wall of the chamber. The sound of furniture being overturned in another room alerted Alton that these men were not alone. Fear clamped the Governor’s breath in his throat, an icy chill ran up his spine.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about your belongings Governor or your servants, you should be a bit more concerned with your neck. I warned you.” Tim said through clenched teeth, then turning to the men with him, “Bring the swine, we need him to write a letter for us.” Governor Alton was dragged from his bed in his nightgown and forcefully marched from his bedchamber. In the light of the hall Alton could see the flurry of destruction Sladen’s men were inflicting. Paintings and tapestries ripped from their rightful place along the hallways. Throughout his home bookshelves, tables, cabinets and cases were being emptied and overturned. Every item of value was being stripped away. Vases, busts, sculptures and all manner of finery were being sacked and carried away indiscriminately by Sladen’s band. The men all had a rough look to them, they carried themselves like men eager to engage a fight.
“What have you done? What are you doing?” Governor Alton stammered, unbelieving of what his eyes saw.
“You’ve cost me, again. I’m here to collect on that debt on behalf of The Order. Your only value to me is now making good on that debt, the second I think you have outlived that ability will be your last.” Sladen hissed into the Governor’s ear as they surveyed the atrium of the mansion from atop the stairs.
“What do you mean debt damn you? I don’t owe you, that was never part of the arrangement!” Alton began. Tim interrupted him with a savage push sending Alton tumbling down the curved staircase, crashing abruptly onto the tiled floor.
“It was never part of the arrangement that you would send the fleet to our anchorage. It was never agreed upon that under any circumstance would my camp be invaded by your god damned admiral. There were no such concessions Alton. However, you and I agreed that any such losses would be made right by you. Did we not? Just a few weeks ago in fact?” Sladen shouted down as he slowly walked down the stairs. The governor was a pathetic sight, bleeding from a cut on his scalp and from his nose, in his linen nightgown. He tried to lift himself from the floor to address his assailant with some form of dignity only to be shoved back down by Tim’s polished black boot.
“I made no such agreement; you just make demands. You seem to think you can order me around, like I’m some piss bottom commoner. I am a Lord and a Governor! You will stop this, this treachery! It is treason!” Alton shouted back between winded breaths.
“Spare me your sanctimonious drivel. Treason would require me to be a subject of your monarch. I am in fact an American, as for treachery, well, you may have me there not that it matters much to us.” Sladen said, smiling to his companions. “Take the Lord Governor into his study, let’s get a quill and paper into his hands so he can be of some use to us.” The two men following Tim stepped around him, grabbed the governor by his ankles and drug him unceremoniously across the atrium to his office. Once inside the larger of the two men prodded the Governor with a large knife, prompting him to climb up into his chair. Tim followed the trio into the study as men were carrying arm loads of valuables out. One man passing by carried a sword with an intricate and ornately designed hilt and hand guard, its scabbard bore gold inlays that caught Tim’s attention. He prompted the man to hand over the weapon and unsheathed it, examining the blade.
“Such a fine weapon, Governor. Tell me, what does a fat sack like you do with a blade like this?” Tim said smiling as he looked at the governor from the corner of his eye. “My guess is you consider it a novelty decoration, don’t you? You couldn’t wield a weapon like this if your life depended on it.” Tim arced the blade in a spin by his side, admiring the balance and edge. “Take your quill, you are going to pen orders for that bag of bones admiral.”
“What happened Tim? What is going on?” Alton stammered. Tim swung the blade in a high arching blow, landing the edge across the governor’s desk and biting his forearm with a glancing slash that immediately produced a crimson drip of blood.
“You know full well what has occurred. That pet Admiral of yours sent a detachment of marines into our prisoner camp, killed four of my men and as of last report, is still blockading access to my bay!” Tim shouted, rage seething and building with every word.
“I didn’t, I didn’t know Tim, I swear it,” the Governor replied, cowering away from another anticipated swing of the sword.
“Then you are incompetent. The result is the same either way. Now Governor, head your letter.” Tim said, lowering his voice and narrowing his glaring eyes. “You will write Admiral Sharpe and demand he return the fleet to anchor in Kingston harbor. He is to withdraw all landing parties and ships anchored within the bay. Any prisoners he has are to be released immediately, if he fails to comply with these orders he can expect to be removed from his command and hung under the charge of treason against the Crown.” Tim rattled, noting he did not see words forming on the paper yet. “Governor start writing. I could cut you into ribbons before you are unable to pen orders, if that’s what it requires.” The Governor inked his quill with shaking hands and hurriedly began scrawling Tim’s orders.
“What do you intend to do once they anchor in Kingston?” Alton asked, wincing slightly as though afraid to hear the answer.
“That is of no concern to you Lord Governor. Now pull yourself out another paper, you have a letter to write to the garrison commander here in Kingston.” Tim said easing himself into a chair.
“Who should I have deliver these orders?” Alton asked timidly.
“We’ll say it won’t be you and leave it at that, now get to it Governor. You wouldn’t want to agitate me further, would you?”
Drowned Maiden
18 Sept 1808
17 Degrees 48’ N, 76 Degrees 7’ W
The wind filled the Maiden’s sails under a sky of roiling dark clouds threatening to open into a storm at any moment. Lilith dutifully stood at the helm, a new duty to her since the last storm but one she found greatly to her liking. She felt powerful at the wheel of the ship, in control of her destiny in a way she had never felt before. Minding the course she was given while adjusting for wind and wave kept her mind focused. In addition to th
e feeling of control and power, Lilith enjoyed being near Chibs and James as they were never too far from the helm for very long. The feeling of wind on her face and the smell of the sea spray lifted her spirits higher than the masts reaching far above the deck. Occasionally songs would break out on deck and Lilith loved that most, she only knew certain parts, but hearing the crew pitch together in unison meant their spirits were good and it endeared them all to her fondly. Rough and haggard by appearance, Lilith had learned that most of the sailors on the Drowned Maiden were good, kind people who had made tough choices in extreme circumstances. Even Captain James, who at times displayed a fierce propensity for violence that made her blood chill, Lilith had seen James’ tenderness. Lost in her thoughts, she did not see Chibs as he approached her.
“You’re doing a fine job Miss Lilith but tend her a bit closer to the wind and we’ll coax another knot or two of speed. There’s a sail off yonder and I think Captain James is of mind to catch her.” Chibs said in his familiar brogue.
“Do you think they’re more slavers Chib?” Lilith asked as she made the correction he suggested.
“No telling Miss. There are a hundred reasons they could have been headed for the bay. They may not have even intended the bay at all, that weather may have forced them off their destined course. But. There’s a chance they’re hauling slaves and James isn’t going to pass at least having a look.” Chibs replied. He’d lit his pipe and smoke billowed through his nose and mouth as he spoke. Lilith thought for a moment.
“Chibs. Are slaver ships they only ones the Maiden has taken?” She asked lowering her voice just a little, she almost feared the answer.
“Well. No dear. No, we’ve plundered several ships strictly carrying cargo. But James has never let a slave ship cross our path without challenge. Even one who had us outgunned. An old refitted ship of the line, she had us dead to rights if she would’ve gotten the wind on us. I had James shift two of the guns to the windward side of the ship, we had her doing fourteen knots! We darted away from them in quite a hurry.” Chib said emphatically. “But my dear, we are a pirate crew. Freeing slaves doesn’t put coin in pockets. To the contrary actually, we’ve captured two slaver ships including the Shepherd and both times the size of the crew grows with very little income for it. It is a problem James is going to have to confront and soon I fear.”
“Do the slaver ships carry no gold Chib?” Lilith asked a puzzled look on her face.
“Well, yes dearie. They do. Though most often it amounts to very little. James has a fancy that one of the slavers ought to be carrying a massive haul of profit back to Europe.” Chibs replied puffing away at his pipe and looking out toward the sail they pursued.
“I see. What do you think Chibs? Do you believe there is some ship with a hold full of riches destined for port in Europe?” Lilith asked.
“Well. It’s hard to say dear. James keeps saying someone has to profit and that’s true enough. The ships belong to someone, none that we’ve taken so far have been owned by their captains. But if the slavers are taking profits back to Europe, they’d be sailing in a convoy, heavily armed no doubt.” Chibs answered. Neither he nor Lilith had seen James approach, though he had only heard Chibs’ last reply.
“They will be guarding her. Heavily, I’m sure. But I will have her, I will take everything from them. Just as they did to me,” said James, drawing a look from both Lilith and Chibs. “But even if I’m wrong, suppose we sail for another year we could capture two, maybe even three more. Freedom for those souls is enough reward in my heart.”
“Aye Captain, but the crew can’t follow the reward of your heart forever.” Chibs replied not unkindly. “With two ships James, we could take any single vessel on the Caribbean.”
“You aren’t wrong Chib. Perhaps. But time will tell Chib. Don’t give up on me yet.” James said jarring Chibs’ shoulder with a smile. He motioned to the sail on the horizon drawing slowly nearer, “How long until we overtake her?”
“Nightfall, if the wind holds. They’re sloppy on the lines Captain, like no crew I’ve ever seen. She is a mess, if they had to tack over the wind, they’d stall her.” Chibs remarked.
“That’s odd Chib. The slavers have all had experienced crews, even the Americans on the Shepherd handled her well.” James said frowning and watching the ship closely. Chibs was right, even from a great distance, James could see sheets running slack, course corrections were frequent and anything but smooth. “Chib, it’s almost like they’re sailing with half a crew.”
“Aye Captain. It’s a wonder they weathered that storm.” Chibs exclaimed.
“That may be the very reason they are struggling. It’s possible they sustained enough damage and loss to cause such haphazard handling. In any case, run her down. We will flank her between us and the Shepherd, if the crew is in any degree of peril already, they’ll strike colors quickly.” James said with a broad smile.
“Will you take her as a prize as well James?” Lilith asked adjusting the wheel slightly under Chibs’ gentle guidance.
“That depends heavily on the manner of her crew and their surrender,” replied James.
“Three ships would make a formidable force Captain. Likely we could extend our reach out of the Caribbean with such a fleet,” added Chibs hoping to encourage the outcome.
“Likely. But all the more sailors we would need and all the more split for anything we capture.” James said, his voice losing some of his usual luster.
As the day wore on toward evening, Lilith watched in anticipation as the sails they pursued on the horizon grew larger and larger. The Shepherd had moved in abreast of the Maiden about a half mile off her larboard rail and they prepared to close in on the vessel ahead. The wind had held steady through the afternoon but as evening approached it shifted from the east to the southeast and the struggling vessel took far too long to adjust. Their dogged sail changes were slow and sloppy, ill-timed with the helm revealing a crew that either wasn’t seasoned to working together or was far too inexperienced to be handling a ship. James came and took a grasp of the helm next to Lilith.
“Miss Lilith are you ready dear?” James asked.
“Aye Captain.” Lilith replied.
“Fly the black, we are close enough for them to see and too close for them to evade us if they were capable.” James said, then turning to Chibs standing along the larboard rail, “Chibs, give them a shot off their bow. Let’s see what they do.”
“Aye Captain.” Chibs replied excited scurrying towards the bow.
Lilith carefully attached the black banner to the hoist line and ran it up hand over hand. Again, as she watched it unfurl into the wind, she felt her skin ripple with goosebumps. It was bold and terrifying, the black eyes of the horned skull seemed to bore a hole right through everything they laid their gaze on. The broken chain underneath made her eyes well up with tears until the flag was a black and white blur. Again, thoughts of her mother crept into Lilith’s mind and she wondered what she would think of her daughter’s adventures. The roaring boom of Chibs firing off a cannon shot snapped Lilith back to reality. Smoke from the shot drifted back and she could taste the acrid powder mixed with the sea spray. She stepped over to the larboard rail to get a look. The stern of the vessel was not clearly visible.
“Lilith, what name do you see on her stern?” James called over to her.
“I can’t make it out Captain, but Chibs is looking through his glass now. He may be able to see it.” Lilith called back. As soon as she had replied, Chibs made his way back to the helm.
“James, she’s the Gazelle.” Chibs informed him with a sober look of caution.
“A little slow for a Gazelle wouldn’t you say?” James said jesting.
“No Captain, that’s not my point. She is a company ship, I know it for a certainty.” Chibs said.
“Ready the crew then Chibs. Their shoddy sailing may be some ruse to lure us into a trap. Keep a keen eye out for any other vessels nearby,” said James, his tone turning grave in a
n instant.
“Exactly what I was thinking Captain,” said Chibs as he turned to prepare the Maiden for a fight.
H.M.S Endurance
18 Sept 1808
18 Degrees 2’ N, 76 Degrees 16’ W
In the days since the Valor’s engagement with the pirates, Admiral Sharpe had maintained a respectful distance. At first, he had sent over a deck officer to offer the assistance from the rest of the fleet. Of course, Johnathan Grimes proudly turned them away, sending the officer back with another inquiry about tea. On the third day however, Elliot was concerned that Captain Grimes had not come over to the Endurance to see him. So, he loaded into a longboat with a detachment of sailors to assist in repair and left the bay to where the Valor was anchored. The sea was fair and distance short enough the trip took only twenty minutes, the threat of rain loomed over them in a gray overcast sky. Their manner of reception was lackluster, Elliot noted and seemed haphazard like an afterthought. Elliot’s concern escalated as he climbed up from the longboat and looked through the welcoming party to find Grimes missing.
“Where is your Captain?” Elliot asked the officer greeting them.
“He is below in his cabin Sir. I’m afraid he was wounded in the exchange of fire with those pirates, quite seriously Sir,” Lieutenant Pike answered while rendering his salute.
“You look a sight yourself lad. I can see you took a wound also, are you well?”
“I am Sir. Well enough, mine was grazing really, no debris remains lodged in my wound Sir, I should recover in a day or two according to our ship’s doctor.” Pike answered. Elliot noticed his bearing was there, he was a navy man to make the King himself proud.
“Very well son, show me to your Captain.” Sharpe commanded, following Will below deck, “Who is your ship’s surgeon?”
