To Honor We Call You: A Florida Action Adventure Novel (Scott Jarvis Private Investigator Book 9)

by Scott Cook

  Aye…” Palander said more dubiously this time. “What’s left of Meraux’s hard bargains and a parcel of niggers.”

  Kate scowled at that. She didn’t like anyone being blaggarded without cause or when they couldn’t respond or when their back was turned. She was also one of the people of her time who despised slavery and the way blacks were treated. Perhaps being in a perceived lesser class herself made her more sensitive, but she wouldn’t stand for it. Especially as regarded men who’d stood behind her in battle.

  “Mr. Palander,” Kate leaned in and lowered her voice. “I won’t have anyone belittled aboard my ship, do you hear me, there? Not men who have recently distinguished themselves in battle… fighting at my side, for all love! Whatever you’re personal feelings, our men will be treated as men and treated fairly. As for whether or not their true seaman, that’s for you and me to decide. Is that clear?”

  Palander’s face reddened and his mouth set into a hard line and he nodded. Kate relaxed her stance again, as if the rebuke had never occurred. The older man chafed at being dressed down by a woman, let alone one less than half his age, yet that was of no concern to her. He and every other hand aboard would toe the line or they’d be put ashore.

  “I’m in possession of Captain Woodbine’s log and Mr. Kent’s journals as well,” Kate continued pleasantly, hoping to mollify the master’s temperament a bit. “And as the master, you’re intimately familiar with the men and their skills. You and I will meet in the cabin after breakfast and review them along with the muster roll. You can familiarize me with the old hands and we can then interview the new.”

  “Aye aye, mum,” He replied with only the barest hint of sullenness evident in his tone.

  The master’s disapprobation would have to be partly endured for the time being. He was far too valuable to be taken to task overly much. Kate was circumspect enough to be patient and wait to see how things played out over time. However, she vowed to keep his discomfort in check as well. Discipline must be maintained and if the master was seen to give wry looks and short answers then the men might soon follow his example.

  The appearance of Pitney carrying a large copper coffee pot and five mugs dangling from a length of twine seemed to brighten everyone’s outlook, however. It was nearly five thirty in the morning and although the mid-October climate off the coast of Florida was still fairly warm, it was cool enough that a hot cup of java was more than welcome on deck.

  “Which I’ve already added milk and sugar, mum,” Pitney said. “I hope that’s all right.”

  “Very good, Pitney. Thank you,” Kate said, sipping from her own mug and relishing the strong and mildly sweet flavor. “Lord, that goes down grateful, indeed!”

  “All the guests say they’d be very happy as well, mum,” Pitney stated. “Will five bells do?”

  Kate nodded, “Five bells it is, Pitney. It can’t come soon enough, I can assure you. I’m so uncommon sharp set, it might be a wolf devouring my vitals!”

  That got a chuckle from the men around her. Pitney grinned, “Perhaps a biscuit with a bit of jam would serve for the moment? The captain’s got a lovely orange marmalade in his… I suppose your’n now… stores. And some sealed Manley’s Biscuit as well.”

  “Upon my word! That’d be most welcome, Pitney.” Kate enthused with even more relish. “Make it two biscuits and smear the marmalade on thick, do you hear me, there?”

  The great cabin of a brig of just over two hundred and fifty tons and about thirty yards in length on her upper deck, while the most luxurious cabin, could not be called vast with any true sense of propriety. However, when the hanging cot was unslung and stowed upright behind a partition and the captain’s desk moved forward near the hatch, there was sufficient room to set a table sizable enough to seat six comfortably near the stern windows. The moderate space was made even more comfortable and welcoming due to the checkered sailcloth deck covering and to the fact that no guns were housed within as there might be aboard a man o’war.

  Captain Woodbine had been not precisely awash in gold but he had been well to do. As such, his cabin appointments were fine and his service of plate a gleaming silver that Pitney, with the help of young Willis whom he’d drafted for the task, had polished to a fine shimmer.

  It made Kate smile to see the place settings. The silver shining brilliantly in the first of the dawning sunlight that poured through the stern windows and the hanging lantern, the fine ceramic coffee mugs set out and the linen napkins neatly folded. It was only a breakfast, after all, yet it was her first dining in of any kind as the captain of a seagoing vessel and Pitney was already doing her proud. Doing all that might be done to ensure that it would be memorable if not entirely elegant.

  The young man ushered the guests in and they took their seats. Kate at the head of the table, Mr. Percival Bentley and his dowdy wife June sat to her left, Francis Childers on her right and Doctor Miles sat at the foot. Pitney filled the coffee mugs and indicated the bread barge in the center of the table topped with pre-packaged and it should here be noted, weevil free, ship’s biscuit. There was a small glob of butter and a small pot of Woodbine’s orange marmalade to accompany them.

  “Eggs and bacon should be up in a trice, mum,” Pitney said. “Followed by a very nice bit of beef steak with a kickshaw of potato and onion hash. I hope it’ll be to your liking.”

  “I’m sure it will, thank you, Pitney,” Kate said, trying to sound polite, appreciative while simultaneously presenting the lofty air her position warranted.

  “Virginia has been generous this morning,” Pitney said, indicating the small silver pitcher of goat’s milk.

  He and Willis scampered out to run forward to the galley, leaving the diners looking at one another in expectation.

  “Well,” Kate began. “Thank you all for joining me this morning. I know it’s early, but as I intend to run this vessel man o’war fashion… the day starts before Sol makes his presence known. I hope I see you all well?”

  Francis smiled and sipped her coffee. The doctor nodded and grinned as well, seeming to savor his cup. Mrs. Bentley looked blank but comfortable… and her husband had a definite air of lordliness hovering about him. Not that this was unusual, he was a bit of a top lofty dandy in Kate’s view.

  “Very kind in you to invite us I’m sure,” Bentley said. “Quite a trying last few days, what?”

  “Indeed it has been, sir,” Kate said. She secretly wondered just how trying it could’ve been for him in his comfortable cabin, regular victuals and more than one seemingly pleasant conversation and shared smoke on the quarterdeck with the French captain. He certainly hadn’t served a gun, picked up a weapon or done anything more than complain while half of the ship’s crew had been slaughtered in close and very bloody combat on his behalf.

  “Quite a heavy responsibility has been thrust on you, has it not?” Mrs. Bentley inquired. “Placed in command… quite unheard of for a young woman… even, if I may say, a bit… unseemly. Surely, one of the gentlemen…”

  “No, ma’am,” Kate said politely yet with an undertone of firmness. “We’re shorthanded and short on qualified mates. I recognize that it may seem unusual for a woman to do a ‘man’s job,’ yet I’ve been training for this virtually my entire life. Captain Woodbine believed I was the best person for the job. And, not to put too fine a point on it… here we are.”

  Francis grinned but said nothing. She knew all too well just how capable the tall young woman at the head of the table truly was.

  “And what are your intentions now, Miss Cook?” Bentley asked.

  Miles’ eyebrow went up but he only sat silently and observed. Kate’s first inclination was to check him by stating that she should be addressed as Captain Cook. However, in the spirit of the occasion and to maintain peace, she allowed it pass.

  Her reply was interrupted as Pitney and Willis came in carrying covered dishes. One was set in front of Kate and the other in front of the doctor.

  “With a bit of extra milk,” P
itney informed them. “We’ve had the eggs scrambled. I hope that’s all right.”

  “Most welcome,” The doctor replied.

  “Thank you again, Pitney,” Kate said.

  The two servants uncovered the dishes and began to dole out the eggs and bacon. With all plates full and the covers replaced on the remainder, the two of them moved a little way off to stand by.

  “No need to hang about, lads,” Kate said with a smile. “Feel free to get your own bite of breakfast if you haven’t or take a spell on deck. We’ll be all right until the beef is ready. Oh, and my compliments to the master, carpenter, purser, sailmaker and… well, to them and I’d be obliged did they join me here at one bell in the forenoon.”

  “Aye, aye, mum,” Pitney said, knuckling his forehead. “department heads to the cabin at one bell in the next watch.”

  Once they’d vanished, Kate turned back to Mr. Bentley, “To answer your question, sir, I intend to stand into Charleston. We’ve already shaped a course and if wind and weather permit, we can expect to make landfall sometime in the late afternoon the day after tomorrow, I should think. Possibly sooner should the wind freshen at all.”

  That seemed to settle his mind a bit. The man began to eat more heartily then.

  “And what of us?” The doctor asked.

  “A good question,” Kate said thoughtfully. “We have a prize, and the brig’s ownership is in question as well. As I understand it, Mr. Woodbine was the sole owner and operator… which means there could be some issue as to who maintains possession.”

  “Meaning you?” Bentley asked with an arched brow.

  “Perhaps,” Kate replied. “Or the vessel may go to his heirs, if any. In all probability, however, Admiralty or Board of Trade law would declare that I’m now the owner. Having retaken a captured vessel from a sovereign enemy power. Just as any lawful prize taken under arms. Both the brig and the schooner belong to me, I make no doubt.”

  Bentley nearly choked, “You? A teenage girl—“

  “Tread carefully, sir,” The doctor warned. “You’re alive today and not a French prisoner solely because of the bravery and gallant actions of this girl.”

  Kate felt a surge of gratitude toward the doctor. He’d not taken to the idea of a woman taking command at first, either. However, his mind had come round as he watched her and observed her willingness to fight and her ability to win.

  “Like it or not, Mr. Bentley… I am in the position. You have other thoughts on the matter?” Kate asked with lidded eyes.

  Bentley spluttered and tried to cover his indignation at the situation and at being brought up short by gulping his coffee, “Surely once we reach port, an official of the British court or the merchant service or someone will make a legal determination.”

  “Perhaps,” Kate said. “It remains to be seen. At any rate, it doesn’t signify. At the moment, we are at sea and I’m in command. I hardly think it matters to you one way or another, Mr. Bentley. Two days from now, if wind and tide serve, you’ll be in Charleston and your cargo put ashore.”

  Perhaps that was what was truly at the heart of Bentley’s concerns, for when she mentioned that his cargo, which made up a considerable portion of what was stowed in the hold, would be sent ashore as promised, he seemed more at ease. He must have felt that if Admiralty law or the Board of Trade condemned the brig and the schooner as prizes, that all possessions aboard would be the property of the ship’s master. Which was, of course, exactly what would happen. For her part, however, Kate would not presume to take possession of the cargo in what seemed to her an unsavory manner.

  With that bit of business out of the way, the rest of the breakfast sailed along on smooth waters. When the guests had departed and the cabin was set back to its usual arrangement, the brig’s department heads entered. Those department heads that were still alive, at any rate. The boatswain had been killed during the first battle and the brig had no master gunner in any case.

  Kate sat behind her desk and indicated that the men should find seats where they may. Palander, the master and the barrel chested and side-burned carpenter, Paul Gray, sat together on the setae beneath the sash lights. A reedy man in his early thirties with a shock of unruly blonde hair sat in one of the canvas folding chairs that Woodbine kept in the cabin. His name was Vaggers and he was the brig’s nominal sail maker. The pinch-faced old Mr. Wiggins the purser made himself uncomfortable in Woodbine’s high-backed armchair.

  “Thank you for joining me, gentlemen,” Kate began. “With all that’s occurred… we have our work cut out for us. Aside from ourselves, we have a grand total of thirty-two men to work both of these vessels. For a short few days run to South Carolina I think it’ll answer… yet what then? We’ve hardly had time to assign the new hands or even establish their level of seamanship for that matter.”

  “Most of them ni—them darkies seems to know something of ships,” Palander stated “and your man Danvers was the boatswain’s mate before all this. He might already have an idea about the new hands.”

  Kate nodded and then raised her voice to an admirable roar, “Pitney! Pitney, there! Pass the word for my coxswain! Now, Mr. Wiggins, as the ship’s purser on a merchantmen, you oversee the crew as well, at least so far as their pay is concerned… can you give me a run down as to what men we have left and their ratings? I think I’ll have Danvers bring in the new black hands and the Frogs and we can interview them in person.”

  “Which there ain’t no ratings,” Wiggins peeved. Kate got the impression that he was in a fairly good mood, but his natural shrewishness could always find expression. “We don’t take any aboard what’s not able.”

  “That’s true,” Palander added. “Everyone who signs aboard can hand, reef and steer. No landsmen was allowed under captain Woodbine. Just about everyone can go aloft, although we do certainly have right topmen aboard… or did. I think we’ve got eight official topmen and two of them are aboard the schooner.”

  Kate was making notes, “Eight topmen… leaving us with a dozen able seamen who can certainly handle sail on deck and go aloft in a pinch… and a dozen men of in determinant skill. Of these, twenty are aboard us now… What about your mates?”

  “I’ve not got a mate,” Wiggins announced sharply. As if his lack of a “Jack in the breadroom” was somehow an intentional slight on him. Kate perceived a definite reproof in the way he worked his toothless gums together.

  “I’ve never had one either,” Vaggers spoke up a little timidly. “I’m only the sailmaker because I know a little something of the trade and no one else wanted the post.”

  “No master’s mates at all,” Palander said, “but as you’ve already seen, I’ve posted Wade and Sankey as quartermasters and just about any of our lads can steer. We’ve got no armorer, naturally. No cooper neither… not anymore anyhow.”

  Kate looked at Gray. He was a stout man, not very tall but wide and burly and with huge hands permanently calloused from his work. When he spoke, it was in a brusque West Country burr.

  “Well, mum… well… I had me a mate till them frog-eatin’ bastards…” He looked a bit chagrinned. “Beggin’ your pardon, mum…”

  Kate smiled, “Don’t stand on ceremony with me, Mr. Gray, I beg. They are a pack of frog eatin’ bastards. So your mate was killed, then? It grieves me to hear it.”

  “Aye,” Gray said and grinned a bit. Like all the men aboard, he was still trying to come to terms with a seventeen-year old woman taking command of his ship. Yet like all of the men aboard, he’d seen firsthand just what she could do. He’d seen her fighting like a good’n in both actions. Had been amazed at how she’d cut down several privateers and then when she’d been disarmed, taken up a length of timber and went for em’ like a demon. Damn near beat the whole lot of them into submission.

  “What can you tell me of our brig’s material condition?” Kate asked him.

  “All in all quite good, mum,” Gray said. “Them frogs don’t seem to know much ‘bout layin’ a gun. Mostly cut up some ri
ggin’ and we had to ship a spare sprits’l yard… patch up a bit of railing and bulwark… but no shot holes in the wales or below the waterline. Well’s as dry as ship’s biscuit.”

  “That’s something anyway,” Kate said. “Those days at anchor certainly helped.”

  Someone knocked on the cabin door.

  “Come in!” Kate bawled.

  In strode Danvers, “You wished to see me, mum?”

  “Aye, Danvers,” Kate said. “I need your impressions of the new hands. How to rate them and place them. Who we might watch and so on. Come in and have a seat, man.”

  Danvers grinned and took another folding chair and set it near Vaggers. As he sat, he pulled a folded piece of paper and a pencil from the inner pocket of his light jacket, “I scratched up a list of names and a bit of their histories, mum.”

  Kate’s brows rose in appreciation, “Upon my word… You can read and write, Danvers?”

  “Aye,” he said a little proudly. “Got my start in the coastwise trade and me old dad made sure I got some schoolin’ when we come in. Never made it to Hic, Haec, Hoc but learned my letters and some rithmaetic.”

  Kate smiled at him, “I think I made the right choice in my coxswain, for certain sure… all right, let’s have the brief rundown first.”

  “Them two Frenchie’s are little better than landsman,” Danvers grumped a bit. “But like any man, we can put em to haul on a line… its them black fellas that we really done well with. Most of them was slaves on Guadalupe… but a few of them are English. There are four men who actually served in the Navy, mum. One of them, a man called John Mathews, was boatswain’s mate in the old Warwick under Lord Keith no less.”

  “Well, I’m damned!” Kate said enthusiastically. “I’m sure we can put him to good purpose.”

  “Aye, mum,” Danvers continued. “He’s already standin’ a watch aboard the prize longside of Rakes. Five of his mates are with them, too. One of those was one of the English blacks, once rated able and a topman to boot. The other four are the French blacks who I’d think we could rate ordinary if it come to that… The other three English blacks are aboard us, mum. All once rated ordinary or able as well.”