by Cal Clement
His heart felt low, as low as it had ever been. A knot in his throat formed as he turned and saw a group of the crew gathered around the body of Admiral Sharpe. Will wanted to approach, he wanted to console the men who had served with the Admiral far longer than he, but his legs refused to work. The thought of Captain Grimes laid up in his hammock, surely, he wouldn’t last much longer. His condition had improved slightly before Will had departed on the sortie with Admiral Sharpe, but the outlook of his survival hung by a thread and would only be further jeopardized by their desperate flight from Kingston. Will’s eyes glossed over, welling up with tears he could not hold back. He had taken orders to the Valor with high hopes of someday earning himself a command, this was not how he had envisioned it would come to pass. Deep in his guts he felt utterly hopeless and unprepared, any blunder he made moving forward would be measured against the command of men he thought he couldn’t possibly hope to emulate. The breeze urged Endurance along and in less than an hour’s time she came abreast of the Valor. Will forced himself to the rail and looked over the vessel. She was still in rough shape, sailing but not like she should. Her larboard gun line was still in tatters, only four of the fourteen pieces still workable. She needed refit in a proper port and resupply long before that could happen.
“Lieutenant Pike Sir! What course do you intend for us?” Shelton called out over the small expanse of sea between them. Will pondered for a moment, holding his breath as if it would churn along the gears of his mind faster. He could not chance another engagement until the Valor was in fighting condition again. Straying too close to any French colony was risky and there was still the matter of the two pirate vessels they had the engagement with by the cove. Will didn’t know if the American had any naval power to go with his fort or his horsemen, but it was worth considering. Nassau was too far and required them to sail too close to too many French ports. St. Kitts lay over a week’s sail away, that too was close to Martinique. There was Barbados, though as soon as it came to mind Will dismissed it as too far away. Standing at the rail of the Endurance, looking over to Shelton, he realized it had been long moments since the young man shouted his inquiry. Damn it all, Will thought, exactly as I feared they look to me for direction and I am japing over at him like a fool caught in a trap. Just call a heading, call a heading and make a plan below in the chart room, he told himself.
“Make your heading east by southeast. I will find a port for us to refit the Valor.” Will called back.
“What happened in Kingston Sir?” Shelton asked.
“Nothing good lad. I will explain everything when we make port, until then you had best keep Valor on course ahead of us. Stay leeward if the wind shifts so we may assist you if necessary. Do you have any news of Captain Grimes?”
“He lives, but he is not well Sir. I fear he won’t survive much longer.” Shelton answered.
“Please signal if he passes.” Will requested. The words almost caught in his throat. If. If he passes. Even a lay man could see by looking at the captain’s wound that he was overdue to depart the living world. But in some small way Will was holding onto hope that somehow, by some miracle he would pull through.
Chapter 9
H.M.S Endurance
24 Sept 1808
17 Degrees 38’ N, 76 Degrees 32’ W
Dawn approached sending fingers of yellow light slicing high into the darkness, the glow of the sun just under the horizon heralded its return to the sky. Just past four bells William had awoke in the Admiral’s cabin. It felt odd to him and he wrestled with pangs of guilt for occupying the deceased man’s place. He rose from the hammock and washed his face in the basin. He reached into his linen shirt and was pulling on his boots when he heard a commotion above deck. Furious footsteps followed and Will heard a whistle, almost immediately he could feel the Endurance change course. “What in god’s name?” he said aloud to himself. He rushed to the door and pulled it open to find Lieutenant Harper approaching.
“What is the commotion Lieutenant?” Will asked.
“Sir! Man overboard, spotted off the starboard side!” wheezed Harper, attempting to catch his breath.
William was off like a bolt of lightning up the ladder well, he raced on deck and up to the bow. A group of sailors were clustered around heaving on a line over the rail. Will skirted around them looking over shoulders and elbows to catch a glimpse of the soaked sailor. After a moment of jostling around Will looked and saw another form still floating in the water. A white linen shirt and pants, blood stained with a fan of long hair haloing the man’s head. It took a second, but the identity registered with Will sending him into a panic.
“Captain!” Will cried, he grabbed a stay line and vaulted himself up onto the rail.
“Sir!” one of the sailors behind him yelled. But it was too late, Will launched himself into a dive, entering the water just feet from where Captain Grimes floated limply.
Will surfaced looking around, he pulled his hair away from his face and reached out for Grimes, pulling him near.
“Captain, Sir, are you alright?” Will asked spitting seawater as he spoke.
“I’m fit for tea with the King lad.” Johnathan answered, laboring his words out. “We just fancied a swim.”
“What happened Sir?” asked Will, he lifted Grimes’ head up slightly to keep it out of the water.
“Cobb. Cobb’s mutiny…” Grimes faded out of consciousness.
“Throw me a line!” Will cried up to the sailors on deck. With lifeline in hand and a dozen sailors heaving them up, Will had his commander aboard the Endurance. The sailors relieved him of Captain Grimes and lay him on deck next to the other man they had rescued. Will hunched over the two men, Lieutenant Shelton lay next to Grimes both men unconscious. Shelton still bleeding from a number of wounds. A boiling rage rose inside of Lieutenant Pike and he looked up over his shoulder into the rising dawn. The shimmering sunlight danced along the water, shining brilliantly into his eyes. Squinting and blocking some of the light with his hand Will could make out the silhouette of the Valor under full sail. She was listed slightly from the wind and making good speed.
“Many things I could say of Cobb, but he is an able sailor, damn.” Will growled to himself. “All hands, full sail and beat to quarters, run out those chasers!” Will ordered as he stood to follow the sailors hauling the rescued officers below deck. “Fetch me when we’re in range, if she turns, if the wind shifts, anything,” he said to Harper and disappeared below.
The rhythmic rocking of the ship did little to hinder the aging doctor in his examination and treatment of both men. Occasionally he would beckon Will to assist in some small way, holding a lantern, helping remove some article of sea-soaked clothing that was a hindrance. Will felt utterly helpless standing and watching. What little he knew about wounds was of no use in a room with a man who had quite literally been practicing medicine since before Will was born. After about twenty minutes of looking over both officers, the Doctor turned to Will with a stone expression.
“This one will live,” he motioned to Lieutenant Shelton, “The Captain however, I’m not sure how he is still alive. He has recovered somewhat from his blood loss, but the infection is advanced. If it were in another part of the body amputation would be his only hope and still overdue. He may survive the day, not much longer.”
“Thank you, Doctor. Please excuse me, if you would Sir. I’d like a few moments alone with them.” Will replied, desperately trying to shrug off the doctor’s prognosis of Captain Grimes.
The array of glass windows across the rear of the cabin began to shine with daylight as Will sat silently looking over his fellow officers. Captain Grimes lay mortally wounded, Admiral Sharpe dead by the American’s hand, his contingent of marines was cut by two thirds in the engagement in Kingston. Half the fleet was lost in the harbor and now the Valor taken by mutiny. How quickly the Caribbean had chewed through them, Will thought. The first engagement nearly broke them, leaving the Valor in shambles. She still had not been f
ully refitted. The fact that she was making speed now was a testament to Cobb’s seamanship. There was no denying, Cobb had a great deal of knowledge and skill for sailing. But his honor, that was another matter entirely. There were no doubts in Will’s mind, Cobb had sown dissent amongst the crew since the exchange outside the cove. Having half the fleet gunned down by a British colonial fort before their very eyes only played further into his hand. Without question, he decided, there are men aboard following Cobb under false assumptions. But the frigate, even wounded, would still be capable of sailing circles around the cumbersome line flagship. Her larboard battery was in shambles, but the crew could, given enough time in fair seas, transfer some of the starboard guns over. Even at half power, with a proper commander, she was still dangerous. Will’s mind ached with the possibility of engaging the Valor, men with whom he had served, many if not all would die in such a battle. How was any of this to be explained upon his return to England? A rogue Governor? An American conspirator leaving two ships sunk and mutiny aboard a third? Will felt as though he was drowning in despair. The words of the Admiralty board in London crept into his mind, You are not yet ready for a command of your own, they had felt like a hammer blow that afternoon in the roasting oven of the board room. Here, in the late Admiral’s cabin, thousands of miles removed, the words stung more than ever.
Lieutenant Shelton came to first, a fit of coughing rousting him awake. Will grabbed the young man’s hand and knelt at his side.
“You’re alright lad, relax.” He said, easing the Lieutenant back into the hammock.
“Will?”
“Yes, you’re aboard the Endurance. My lookouts saw you in the dawn, thank god, any earlier and we’d likely have missed you both. What happened?” asked Will.
“Cobb happened. They organized a mutiny, I tried to fight them Will, but he’s turned too many. They took the watch and locked the marines into the hold, when I awoke, they stormed the cabin. I didn’t stand a chance Will.” Shelton rasped.
“Ok. Ok lad take it easy now. Cobb’s had his fun, now we’ll see if he’s got the stones to weather the storm he’s just whipped up.” replied Will.
“He’s got enough to sail her Sir, but he can’t fully man the gun lines at the same time.” Shelton reported, is voice cracking to a whisper.
“Good. Fine job Lieutenant. You rest now, we’ll see to the mutineers.” Will eased the young officer to lay back into the hammock and turned for the hatch. He paused for a moment, looking over the pair. Shelton’s wounds were not too serious, he should recover, but Captain Grimes should already be gone. The fact that he had survived as long as he did had given Will slight hope that the man would recover and plot their course out of this mess. “You would know what to do Sir, I am out of my class,” he muttered. Captain Grimes stirred a little in his hammock and Will moved to his side.
“That’s horse piss Will. I’ve no clue what you should do, nor what I would do. But, I have some advice for you.” Grimes rasped out, his voice a mere whisper.
“What is it Sir?” Will pleaded, desperate for guidance.
“Do what you know to be right lad. Whatever this Governor is doing, he must be stopped,” he answered.
“I’ve been wondering Sir. What if, well, what if this Governor isn’t acting alone?” Will pressed.
“I’ve thought that too Will. How deep does it go? No matter, King and Country, all that, to hell with it. Piss on them. If the crown is somehow in league with this, I don’t have an answer for that. Do what you know to be right, that’s all the advice I can give you.” Grimes said, grimacing as he finished.
“Rum Sir? For the pain?” Will asked looking around the cabin for the bottle he had seen earlier.
“No, don’t waste it on me. I won’t be much longer, and I know it.” Grimes said with a slight wave of his hand. “Make sure you run that Cobb through when you get to him Will. A pistol shot is too dignified for a mutineer, run him right through his belly with your sword. You tell him I’ll see him in hell for the rest of his penance.”
“I’ll do that Sir. Get some rest.” Will replied. His bearing failed him as he turned to leave the cabin, fearing this would be his last talk with his commander. He departed the cabin to return on deck, hoping the wind would carry away the tears from his eyes before anyone could see them fall. The blurry outline of Valor’s sails was pushing ahead of them on the horizon. The distance between them was slowly increasing, even under full sail the Valor would run out of their line of sight before evening fell.
‘Georgia Spirit’
24 Sept 1808
17 Degrees 25’ N, 75 Degrees 57’ W
Tim Sladen scanned the eastern horizon through his telescope, scouring for any sign of a sail or mast. Since his first introduction with Admiral Sharpe at the Governor’s residence, he had watched as his carefully constructed system came undone. The satisfaction he had felt in killing the Admiral had been an immense release of frustration, only to be replaced with yet another disappointment as he watched two ships slip his trap and exit the harbor. The ships at his command were privateers, originally hired to transport slaves from his holding camp in Jamaica to the American south and a few select destinations in Europe. He had chosen what he deemed as the finest as his impromptu flagship the ‘Georgia Spirit’. At the head of a fleet of three ships he sailed in reckless, desperate pursuit to prevent his undoing.
The hunt for those remaining vessels consumed his every thought, making even the most basic of tasks seem heart wrenchingly urgent. If news of the true nature of his operations were revealed, he would be finished. It would be embarrassment at the highest levels, treason, heresy. The economy of the American agricultural machine in the south would grind to a crawl, costing him and countless others untold amounts of money. He had been tasked with assembling a covert network to continue the slave trade. France and Great Britain had both outlawed the acquisition and transportation of slaves from their native lands, it was only a matter of time until the slaves currently held would be ineffective for profitable operation in agriculture settings. So, his benefactors had retained him, at great expense, to ensure that their interests were safeguarded. A fortune had been spent soliciting cooperation from likely detractors, to little effect, Tim thought to himself while gritting his teeth.
Below deck in the hold of the Spirit, Governor Alton sat in a cell, naked and shackled. Tim had decided the pompous Governor could only be counted on to act in his own self-interest. Given the nature of his knowledge, that made him yet another liability. Yet he could still prove useful, unlike the Admiral, Governor Alton could be manipulated to do whatever Tim needed of him. That so far, had held as reason enough to keep him alive. If all else fails, he thought with a morbid grin, I could ransom the pig to the Crown and make an escape. As Tim lowered his glass from a weary eye, the Captain of the Spirit approached.
“Mr. Sladen, I fear they may have too far a start for us to catch them. Is there a destination you believe they could be headed for? Perhaps we could out navigate them,” the Captain offered.
“British ports most likely. Nassau, Barbados, somewhere they could reinforce and refit. I’m afraid that my knowledge of these matters is limited, I’m not a sailor by trade.” Tim answered in his gentle drawl.
“Barbados has the largest garrison, although St. Kitts is closer. We can hold this easting for a while, but if they lit out for Nassau, they’re as good as lost to us Sir,” said the Captain, hesitating slightly as he broke the last bit. Tim turned and looked the Captain dead in the eyes with an unbreaking stare.
“Failure here is not an option Captain. We will absolutely find those two ships and leave both of them at the bottom when we are done. That is the only outcome that is acceptable and that will be the only outcome where we survive. But I promise you, Sir. If we do fail, you will be going before I do. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Yes Sir,” the Captain replied with a stammer.
“I’m going below to pay our honored Governor a visit. Please in
form me immediately if there is a sighting Captain. Keep your heading east, let’s presume nothing about their destination yet.” Tim snapped curtly.
“Yes Sir,” the Captain’s reply came. Drawing looks and raising a few eyebrows amongst his crew.
Below deck, Tim walked down a narrow corridor leading to the cell holding the Governor. As he approached, he could smell the rank odor of waste and sweat, the heat coupled with constant motion and the foul smell brought a wave of nausea. Tim stepped in front of Alton’s cell, hanging a lantern on a hook outside the iron bars. The Governors figure sat slumped on the floor, pale and naked. His waste bucket had tipped with the motion of the ship and the foul contents covered the floor where he sat. Alton stirred for a moment when the lantern light spilled into his cell and he looked up through squinted eyes to identify his visitor. Tim saw his face was a mess, dried vomit streaked his face and clung to the stubble that had replaced his shaved and powdered look.
“You are a sight, Lord Governor.” Tim mused.
“I feel it.” Alton remarked. His tone was surrendered, missing the superiority and disdain Tim had grown accustomed to from him. “How long do you intend to keep me prisoner Tim. I don’t know how much more of this I will survive.”
