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

by Scott Cook

  The fighting, although fierce for a moment or two, didn’t last long. It wasn’t that much of a surprise to Kate once she’d seen what a slaughterhouse the gun deck had become. The French were already demoralized and with two dozen bawling and blood-thirsty English pouring on top of them, they lost the taste for fighting rather quickly.

  Again, Kate was presented to an officer. This time, a boy not even as old as herself.

  “Are you in command here?” She asked, leaning toward him and towering over him.

  The lad stammered out something in pidgeon English that Kate couldn’t understand.

  “Speak up, now! Ain’t ya’ got a civil tongue in your head?” She barked, causing the boy to flinch.

  He was finally able to gather his wits and said he was the fourth mate, the son of the captain. Something like a midshipman in the official Navy. He even had a dirk, which he offered her in lieu of a sword.

  ‘Pallier, have a party of our men make a clean sweep of the berth deck, orlop and hold. Make certain none of these dammed French are hiding. Then have them join the party guarding these men and have them locked into the fore peek. In the meantime, come with me with enough men to work two carronades. Pitney, Sankey, Ledbetter, you’re with me.”

  Kate ran back up onto the quarterdeck and had Pitney haul down the French tricolor. In their flag locker, they had a British ensign. Meant for misleading the enemy until they drew near. A common ruse de guerre among all nations. Pitney bent the British ensign onto the signal halyard and reversed the colors to indicate that the French ship was now in British hands.

  Pallier appeared beside her, his handful of men loading one of the larboard and starboard quarterdeck carronades with canister and training them down into the waist. The burly black man had dragged up the little officer as well.

  “You sir!” Kate barked to the boy, who flinched and shuffled over to her. “What’s your name?”

  “Ladeaux, mademoiselle …” He chirped nervously.

  “Very well Mr. Ladeaux,” Kate said sternly, handing him a speaking trumpet from the binnacle cabinet. “Sing out to your men aloft. Tell them to come down from the tops and surrender their arms. Quickly now!”

  The teenager called up to the men in the tops in rapid French. When one of them began to argue, Ladeaux repeated his order more vehemently. Men quickly began to descend the rigging, their muskets either left in the tops or slung over their shoulders.

  A ragged cheer arose from starboard. Kate looked over to see that the Indis had finally overcome the French sailors and they were dropping their arms on the decks. She thought the cheer was for seeing the royal ensign fluttering at the mizzen peak as well.

  “Is all well, Sir Edward?’ Kate called over.

  Pellew’s tall frame turned to her and she could see a smile on his strong face, “Aye that it is, Captain! Give ya’ joy of your capture… captures! Ha-ha-HA!”

  He’d called her captain! Not just Miss Cook or young lady… he’d actually referred to her as captain! Kate felt a surge of pride and a warmth of feeling for Pellew. To receive praise from such a man meant much indeed.

  Now that the din of cannon, small arms, and the clash of steel and the roaring of men at one another’s throats had died down, the fresh breeze once again could be heard in the rigging. The orderly sound of feet trodding the decks as prisoners were gathered and herded seemed deathly silent by comparison. Kate finally had time to look around and take in the entirety of the situation. They’d won… they’d actually won…

  Two French privateers, crammed with men and with lust to snap up a magnificent prize like a forty-gun British warship had been paid back in their own coin. Sir Edward Pellew had two valuable prizes of his own, not to mention hundreds of prisoners. What would be the outcome of this Kate Cook couldn’t imagine.

  “Your pistols, mum,” Pitney said, suddenly standing before her with a smile on his sweating face. “Went below and retrieved them again.”

  “Thank you, Pitney,” Kate said, taking the valuable pistols and fitting them into her belt. When she tried it on the left side, she winced at the pain.

  “Might Mr. Miles look at that for you, mum?” Pitney asked.

  Kate chuckled, “I’ll get in line behind the real casualties, Pitney.”

  He grinned, “I think Nelson would be pleased.”

  “That he would, lad,” A strong voice said from beside them.

  Kate turned to see Pellew himself had clambered over the railing and down onto the frigate’s quarterdeck. “Never mind maneuvers…”

  “Always go straight at em’,” Kate finished.

  “Well,” Pellew remarked, gazing around with an approving smile. “You’ve done quite well, Mistress Cook. May I call you Catherine?”

  Kate blushed, “Uhm… my friends call me Kate, sir Edward.”

  “Kate then. I’m certainly quite pleased you came along when you did. Yet I have to wonder… what will the prize courts make of this?”

  “Sir Edward?” She asked in bewilderment. “They’re your prizes.”

  Pellew warmed to this courageous and unusual girl, “I’m not entirely sure that’s true. Certainly Indefatigable shares in them… but it was you and your crew who struck the colors on the French ships. I certainly don’t know how you come to command that brig and that schooner… but as a private citizen, there may be some very interesting legal issues to sort through when we put into Charleston. And I think I can speak for the King’s representative… you personally helped to save he and his entire suite today… that he’ll be most obliging. Even to a girl captain. Now that, Kate, is a story I hope to hear. I assume you’ll be so good as to accompany us to Charleston?”

  “Why… yes, sir, of course…” Kate said in awe. “That was our destination. The brig has a load of passengers and goods bound there.”

  “Excellent!” Pellew enthused. “Then would you take a bite of supper with me and my officers this evening?”

  “I’d… be delighted,” Kate said, her mind reeling.

  ‘Of course,” Pellew said with a twinkle in his merry hazel eyes. “you’ll take a moment or two in order to… freshen up first, will you not?”

  Kate blushed as she looked down at herself. Her fine blue coat was practically in tatters, liberally splashed with French blood, and a bit of her own from one or two minor slashes that hadn’t even been noticed at the time. Her white britches were torn along her left hip and bloody from her wound. Her lustrous brown hair was splattered with blood and lank from sweat, which also coated her face and ran freely beneath her clothing.

  “I… of course, Sir Edward,” She managed to splutter.

  Pellew laughed and took her hand, shaking it vigorously, “God’s my life, Kate… it’s a damned honor to make your acquaintance.”

  What other surprises could possibly be in store?

  29

  We arrived off DeBarlovento light about fifteen minutes before noon. I backed the boat down off of plane and put the engines in neutral. I then activated the VHF and set it to the pre-determined channel.

  “Maestro Pescador calling Theresa Maxwell,” I intoned. “Come in, Theresa Maxwell. We have arrived at the outer marker, over.”

  A quick blast of static and then Manuel Garcia’s voice came in strong on the overhead speakers, “Prompt, amigo, prompt. I do admire a man who keeps his appointments.”

  “Get below, just in case we’re being scoped,” I told my crew before pressing the talk button. “Can we cut the shit and just get on with it, Garcia? I assume the ship is moored in Havana harbor proper?”

  A chuckle, “It is. Please proceed into the harbor.”

  “Not so fast,” I replied stonily. “I want you to contact your pal Montoya and have him release Angelique Tavares. When I get the call that she’s been freed, I motor in and not before.”

  “Of course, Jarvis. I do keep my word as well. Stand by.”

  A few minutes passed and finally the satellite phone I’d been given warbled. I saw that the call was comin
g from Jackie and answered.

  “We’re at the memorial tower downtown,” She reported. “Angelique is with two men.”

  “What’s your sitch?”

  “I’m here with Amanda. Mr. Tavares wanted to come but I had him stay at his office. I didn’t want to risk putting another valuable target into the field.”

  “Roger that… are they letting her go?”

  “Hang on…” Jackie replied and I heard Amanda shout something I couldn’t quite make out. Then a response I also couldn’t understand. “Okay, they say they’ll release her when they get the word you’re moving in.”

  I cursed and put the boat in gear, throttling up to a fast idle. I picked up the VHF mic and keyed it, “Garcia, I’m headed into the channel. Have your goons let her go.”

  A pause and then, “I’ve given word, Jarvis. Hurry it along.”

  “Fuck you…” I muttered, letting the mic drop and then into the sat phone. “He says he’s given the word.”

  “Roger, she’s walking toward us now,” Jackie replied. “She’s with us and the men are leaving.”

  “Good… now get the hell outta there,” I said, “and be careful.”

  She scoffed, “I’m not the one boating into the lion’s den. Good luck, Commander.”

  The channel into the harbor was well marked, so I brought the boat back up onto plane, although just barely. Soon I could see the Mariel Hemmingway Marina off to one side, it’s variety of yachts reminding me of any wealthy American yacht basin. Ahead, the main harbor was a bit of a departure. A mixture of commercial vessels, fishing boats and a few other watercraft dotted the open waters. A battleship gray boat of some sort patrolled back and forth, its coloring and design simply screaming military. That impression was fortified by the presence of the fifty-caliber machine gun mounted to the boat’s foredeck.

  I spotted the cargo ship off to my left slightly and angled for her, my chart plotter confirming that I had plenty of water in this part of the harbor. I brought the boat down off of plane once again and cruised the last few hundred yards at about six knots.

  I was not at all pleased or comforted by the fact that the forty-foot Cuban navy patrol vessel seemed to take an interest in me. The boat had been headed away when I’d crossed her wake but now turned and was coming directly toward me. Not fast, but faster than I was moving.

  “Don’t be alarmed, Jarvis,” Garcia stated over the radio. “They’re just keeping an eye on you. The Cuban government knows why you’re here… at least so far as this ship is concerned. I strongly recommend no funny business, comprende?”

  “Yeah…” I said into the mic. “That goes both ways, cabron.”

  He laughed, “Such espíritu! Come alongside and lay out fenders. I’ll have two lines dropped down to you so that you can tie off. There is a ladder built into the port side that leads up to the deck. Once you are secured, Jarvis, you may come up the ladder with the papers. I know you didn’t come all this way alone… but you will come aboard by yourself.”

  I scoffed into my mic, “So you can shoot me the moment I step on deck? No fuckin’ way, amigo.”

  “Scott, I guarantee your safety,” Nikki Sloane’s voice broke in.

  I laughed disdainfully again, “Oh, do you now? Your word being so unquestionable, huh? I’m bringing backup. He and I will both be armed, Garcia. Take it or leave it.”

  A long pause, “Very well, Jarvis. Of course… how do I know you won’t shoot me once aboard? Or the lovely agent Sloane for that matter?”

  “That what you think of me, Garcia?” I jeered. “As inviting as the idea is, I didn’t come here to commit murder. I give you the papers and you leave the ship. Then she and my boat and I are allowed to exit the harbor and head out to sea. That’s all I want from this. On that you have my word… and Miss Sloane can at least attest to that.”

  Another pause, “She agrees. Very well, let us get this business over with.”

  I put the boat in neutral about a hundred yards from the ship and climbed down the ladder and stepped into the saloon.

  Lisa, Juan and Sharon were standing around the coffee table each holding a weapon. Sharon held my Winchester .308, Lisa my AK-47 and Juan the Mossberg. I grinned at them.

  “You guys planning on shooting somebody?”

  “A lot of somebody’s if the shit hits the fan,” Sharon said.

  I sighed, “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I have no doubt that the Cuban government would not take a kind view to a bunch of Yankees coming into their sovereign harbor and opening fire with long guns. Plus that patrol boat over there would no doubt send a few thousand rounds of fifty cal into this boat.”

  “So what’s the plan?” Lisa asked with a frown settling on her face.

  “Juan and I go aboard the freighter,” I said. “Pistols on us but not in view. The idea is to make the exchange. I assume Garcia has a way off the ship before she gets underway.”

  “And you don’t think this prick is gonna double cross you?” Sharon asked in disbelief.

  I shrugged, “I don’t trust him… but the situation should be fairly stable. I doubt he’s in high favor with the Castro regime any more than we are. I’ll bet the cargo of coffee and whatever else has already been off loaded. Free booty for aul, no doubt. Otherwise, the Cubans probably want this ship gone as soon as possible and with as little noise as possible. They don’t need an international incident either. Remember, the U.S.S. Maine was sunk in this very harbor and started a war. I’m banking on the fact that once Garcia gets his map and deed that he’ll haul ass. Nikki will probably go with him, but I’ll try and stop that… bitch.”

  Lisa and Sharon both looked displeased and worried. I couldn’t blame them. If the position was reversed, I’d be none too happy about staying behind in a scenario like this myself.

  “You two are my ace in the hole,” I said. “If shit goes down…”

  “And how will we know that?” Lisa asked, waving an arm toward the portside viewport where part of the ship was visible. “The deck of that ship is like three stories over the water. Plus if you go inside…”

  I lifted the hem of the white Guayabera shirt I was wearing to show her the hand-held VHF I had clipped to my belt. I had duct taped the talk button so it was permanently pressed. “Channel nineteen. You can monitor the entire conversation. There’s a unit down here in addition to the one on the bridge. Stay out of sight for now. You ready, hermano?”

  Juan nodded and even grinned, “Didn’t somebody once say you couldn’t go home again?”

  I chuckled, “Robert Frost, I think.”

  “Si… it’s been two years and I never thought I’d see Cuba again… I wish I could say this was a good homecoming, meng…”

  I chucked him on the shoulder, “Don’t worry your pretty little head over it, Juan. We’ll be in and out in five minutes.”

  “Yeah, that’s what he always says,” Sharon quipped.

  Lisa stepped over and wrapped her arms around me and kissed me hard, “Please be careful, huh, Captain?”

  I squeezed her, “Always.”

  Juan and I went out on deck and pulled several large fenders from storage lockers in the cockpit gunwales. We hung them along the starboard side and then I went up on the flying bridge to maneuver us closer. Juan would stay below and receive the lines.

  The Theresa Maxwell was about three hundred feet long with a beam of about fifty feet. The ship was simple in design, her main deck rising about thirty feet over the waterline and a two-story superstructure rose above the stern, taking up about a fourth of the vessel’s length. Forward of this would be large cargo hatches on deck. Two cranes rose above the deck forward of the stern castle as well. I could see several people up on the main deck, although I couldn’t recognize anyone as yet.

  I maneuvered the sporty alongside the ship’s black hull, pointing our bow so that both vessels were pointed in the same direction. I saw the built-in ladder, the rungs of which were painted silver. I pulled alongside, easing the port eng
ine into reverse and pulling the stern in until we bumped gently along the steel. The fenders between absorbed the slight energy and kept the ship from touching the fiberglass hull. Two thick lines were dropped down from above and Juan secured one to a stern cleat and another to the starboard bow cleat. I left the engines running in neutral, just in case.

  I went down to the cockpit and climbed up onto the side deck where Juan met me. His face was grim but I saw no fear in his eyes.

  “You ready?” I asked.

  He nodded. I reached out and grasped the nearest rung and swung myself onto the ladder and began the climb. Juan came right after me.

  The ladder was actually a series of U-shaped metal bars about an inch and a half thick, two feet long and protruding from the hull about four inches. Just enough space to get your hands around the rungs without touching the hull. The ladder was there to be used by a pilot for coming aboard and leaving the ship in order to guide her in and out of a harbor.

  At the top, there were two circles of metal that came outboard and anchored itself below the uppermost rung. I could clap onto this and use it as a guide as I stepped up onto the last rung and over the combing of the entry port. The sight that greeted me was not reassuring.

  Garcia stood next to Nikki Sloane. To his left stood a man in what appeared to be a merchant sailor’s uniform. White sneakers, shorts and short-sleeved button-down shirt with shoulder boards. These had four stripes on them, making me think the middle-height, middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair was the captain. To the captain’s right stood a man dressed in black holding a pistol aimed casually but deliberately at the captain. To Nikki’s left stood another black-clad figure with a pistol at the ready as well.

  “Welcome aboard, Jarvis,” Garcia said amiably.

  I glowered at him and said nothing as Juan appeared at my side. I could see out of the corner of my eye that his lean body was tensed for action.

  “Captain?” I asked the uniformed man.

  He nodded and spoke with only a hint of a Cuban accent, “Ed Cruz, sir. Thank you for coming. My crew and I appreciate it.”