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

by Scott Cook

  “We’re still in the middle of—“

  “Goddamit, Turner!” I barked. “Who gives a shit about your little inspection! Now you either get your ass back aboard this ship in the next two minutes or I’ll cut the lines and leave you there.”

  There was a pause in which I could almost hear Turner trying to get himself under control. He didn’t quite manage it, “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to, Jarvis! I’m your superior officer, you understand me! I don’t take orders from you, I give them.”

  “Turner,” I said sternly. “I don’t give a rat’s ass if you’re a three-star admiral, the Secretary of the Navy or the president himself. If you aren’t aboard this ship in one minute and thirty-eight seconds, you will be left aboard the freighter. You hear me, there? Be pissed off all you want, but we need to catch that damned yacht.”

  “Standby.”

  There was a pause and then McClay reported that Turner and his two men were climbing back down the lines to the Ballard. Once aboard, McClay put the ship’s engines in neutral and Turner’s team was able to cast off.

  “We’re free,” McClay reported.

  “Make for the superyacht, Joe,” I said. “Best possible speed.”

  “All done,” Amanda sat and patted my left cheek. “All better.”

  I jumped off the table and got dressed quickly. Turner entered just as I was zipping up my borrowed jeans.

  “You think the germs are aboard that yacht?” he asked in a level tone. That sort of surprised me. I figured he’d want to come in swinging.

  “It’s a place to start,” I offered. “That ship is registered in Panama and yet, they’re headed directly for the Mississippi delta, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Indeed they are,” Joe’s voice said from the overhead speakers. “She’s on a rum line for the Delta. At present speed, she’ll reach the mouth in… twenty hours or so.”

  “And how long until we overtake?” I asked.

  “Overtake rate is ten knots,” Joe replied. “I’m keeping us at thirty, even though we can do forty at top speed… but that burns a tremendous amount of fuel. That gives us just under three hours until we rendezvous.”

  “Okay, great,” I said. “That might work to our advantage.”

  “Why do you say that?” Turner asked.

  “Because by then Bolivar makes it to land and is able to get a phone signal,” I explained as I led the way out of the lab. “He’ll find out who really has his family and might be willing to talk. In the meantime… I’d like to get a power nap. Just an hour or so would help.”

  Turner stopped me as we entered the saloon, “Once we reach that yacht, we’re going to board her. You, me, Jackie and our two other teammates, who I’ll introduce to you a little later on. Any idea what’s waiting aboard?”

  I shook my head, “No idea. I was only aboard long enough to cross the deck and board the freighter.”

  Turner nodded, “Understood… so we’ll go in hot, then. All five of us. Board and sweep.”

  “I’ll come as well,” Santino offered.

  “I’m volunteering to join the party, too,” Brody stated.

  “Love to have you,” I said.

  “Negative,” Turner overrode me, glaring. “This is an official op. ICE only. I can’t take responsibility for any civilian casualties.”

  “We’ll take responsibility for ourselves, Commander,” Santino said tersely. “We’re not asking for you to protect us. We’re both former military.”

  Turner clenched his fists, “Is everyone you know so fucking hard headed, Jarvis? I’m in command here, and this is my op. I decide who goes and who doesn’t. And you two aren’t.”

  I could see the frowns on Santino’s and Brody’s faces. I held up a hand, “Let’s not argue about it, guys. In all likelihood, there will be very few combatants aboard anyway. It’d be pretty hard to get a boat load of Columbians through customs.”

  Turner nodded his head and then turned to me, “And that’s another thing, Lieutenant Commander. When we do go in, you follow my orders to the T. No arguing, no back talk and no mouthing off or so help me Christ I’ll see you in the brig. This is an official ICE operation and I’m your CO that clear?”

  “As a bell, Commander,” I said nonchalantly.

  “It’d better be.”

  Lisa led me below and to one of the after cabins. When we were in the room alone, she indicated a backpack on the bed, “I packed us a gorgeous sack, just in case.”

  I laughed, “Thanks. And thanks for having the foresight to arrange to save my butt. And for going behind my back and not telling me what you were up to.”

  She grinned wryly, “Now you know how it feels.”

  I sighed and began to strip off the work clothes I’d stolen from the freighter, “I do know how it feels and I’m sorry. I didn’t have much choice.”

  “I know,” She said, wrapping her arms around me. “I was just teasing. So… how tired are you?”

  “Pretty tired,” I admitted, “but never too tired for you, my love.”

  She sighed and pulled away, “Yeah… but I should let you rest. Grab a quick shower and we’ll catch forty winks together. If I can’t screw you cross-eyed then at least we can enjoy a delectable snuggle.”

  “Sorry that you have to settle,” I said, walking into the lavish head.

  “I’m used to it by now.”

  “Nice. You’re developing quite the acid tongue lately.”

  “I blame you.”

  “Most do.”

  The shower felt good and climbing into the king-sized bed with Lisa’s taught and curvy body curled up against mine was heaven. It had only been four nights since we’d been naked together but it seemed like a lifetime.

  I fully intended to put the nap off for a little while, but the relaxing feeling of the cool sheets and her warmth lulled me to sleep almost as soon as we got under the covers.

  39

  October 18th, 1797

  Catherine knew better than to attempt to go up the starboard side of the two-decker whatever anyone might say. It was one thing to be received handsomely aboard the Resolve, a ship she’d helped to capture. It was another matter entirely to top at the knob in front of a rear admiral of the blue.

  With this in mind, Kate ordered Danvers to put the boat alongside Thunderer’s larboard main chains. Someone had evidently foreseen this decision and had already rigged out man ropes. For the first time since seeing the three ships on the horizon the day before, Kate knew something akin to real apprehension. How would she be received by the admiral and what would become of her ships, her men… and herself for that matter?

  All of these thoughts and more flashed through her mind as she balanced on the gunwale of the jolly boat. She drew in a breath and leapt for the battens, seizing the ropes and dashing up the side like a boy. She reached the gangway, stepped aboard, turned to the quarterdeck and pulled off her hat in salute. As she did so she marveled at the vast expanse of dazzlingly white decks that seemed to spread fore and aft for miles in either direction.

  Even the Indefatigable, as impressive as she was, paled in comparison to a ship of the line. This in spite of the fact that the heavy frigate had started life as a sixty-four. Yet the acres of freshly scrubbed and holy stoned decks, the exacting order of the innumerable lines that comprised her running rigging, all faked and flemished down in perfect order. Her sails neatly and precisely bundled in their harbor gaskets was awe-inspiring. It both warmed her sailor’s heart and soured her teenage girl’s belly.

  “Come aboard, sir,” Kate announced to the officer of the watch, a stern faced ancient Lieutenant who’d been in commission since her own father was breeched. “Cap… er… Catherine Cook, master of the Whitby Castle to see the admiral, if you please.”

  The officer of the watch, an unusual occurrence in harbor, eyed her up and down, his expression grave. She could at least secretly relish the satisfaction of being able to look down on the man, who was no less than half a head shorter t
han herself.

  “My name is Granger,” He said in a tone that conveyed both hauteur and disapproval. “First Lieutenant of Thunderer. Mr. Bascom, please escort the young lady into the cabin.”

  Mr. Bascom, ostensibly the midshipman of the watch was a tall youth of about Kate’s own age. He was still adolescent enough not to have yet mastered his timid reaction to the close proximity of such a lovely girl, no matter if her dress wasn’t very dissimilar to his own. He took himself in hand, however, stepped forward with a hesitant smile and extended a hand to her, “Welcome aboard, Miss Cook. Would you follow me, please?”

  The lad led her past the wheel and the two or three sailors and other mids who stood about on the quarterdeck and the poop above making a pretense at being attentive to their duties. To a man, though, they were studying this tall and very pretty young woman who was dressed as closely to navy fashion as civilian dress would allow. This would normally have put all of their noses out of joint, and indeed there were one or two for whom great effort was required not to speak out in disapproval . However, news of the action of the day before had already begun to spread through the ship and her name figured prominently in tales that, even when rarely unembellished, were nearly too impossible to countenance.

  The Marine at the Admiral’s door came to attention, stamped his boots, thumped the butt of his musket to the deck and roared out, “Mr. Midshipman Bascom and guest, sir!”

  “Come in!” A muffled voice called out from within.

  The door was thrown open onto a vast apartment that spanned the entire breadth of the ship and that featured, like most vessels, an array of curving and in-leaning stern windows. Of course this set seemed to encompass the entire view of the harbor at once and Kate could even see that a door to one side led out onto a gallery that spanned the stern and offered the admiral a splendid veranda on which to enjoy the open air. The cabin was lavishly appointed with beautiful furnishings, paintings and tapestries and a huge oaken desk that must take three men to carry below when the cabin was stripped down for action.

  Seated behind the desk was a gray-haired man of perhaps fifty. The man was thick, somewhat doughy in the face and wore the gold lace of an admiral. Seated nearby was Sir Edward Pellew, for which Kate was thankful. Another post captain, a man about Pelew’s age with receding blonde hair and a lean build sat near him in a folding chair. A severe looking stub of a man in a black coat hovered at the admiral’s elbow. On the other side stood a plain looking lieutenant who might himself be as old as either of the post captains. Pellew met her eye and offered a brief smile.

  “Ah! There you are at last, Miss Cook,” The Admiral said, rising and making a slight bow at the waist. “Admiral James Dorsett, your servant.”

  “Sir,” Kate said, making a leg of her own. “Very happy, I’m sure.”

  The Admiral sat and waved a hand at the other men, “Captain Kellogg, my Flag Lieutenant Mr. Thrask, and my secretary, Mr. Billings. May I offer you something… a glass of Madeira, perhaps? I can offer you a capital Rennish… or would you prefer a cup of tea?”

  “Madeira would go down most gratefully, sir,” Kate said, standing as stiff as a fence post in spite of having to bend her head to avoid the overhead beams.

  “Please take a seat, young lady,” Dorsett implored, waving at a comfortable looking elbow chair before bawling out: “Alders! Where is that mumping villain of a steward… Alders, Goddamn your eyes! A glass of Madeira for the… the lady.”

  The Admiral’s servant, a powerfully built and ill-looking brute who seemed better suited to the capstan than the cabin shuffled in. He moved lightly, sidling up to Kate and offering her a full glass.

  “Here you are, Miss. I hope that’s too your likin’,” Alders said in a soft and rather pleasing voice in total contrast to his menacing appearance. “Which I’ve got plenty more o’that if you should want.”

  “Thank you,” Kate said with a grin.

  “Anyone else?” Dorsett asked and then scowled at his servant. “All right, Alders, make yourself scarce now, you bloody nuisance.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” Alders said with perfect aplomb before vanishing forward.

  “Rum lookin’ cove, ain’t he?” Dorset asked the room in general. “I inherited him from Admiral Birtie, no less. You wouldn’t credit it by looking at him… such an ill-lookin’ bugger I never seen… but he takes prime care of me, and the more I abuse him, the more he likes it. Bit of a running joke between us, really. A rare hand in the cabin and hell fire in a boarding party, I can assure you… Well now, what say we get down to brass tacks, eh?”

  It was clear that Dorsett hadn’t risen from one of the more refined schools. He was gruff, course and as voluble as a hog in a gate. He began shuffling papers on his desk and settled a pair of spectacles on his already crimson nose.

  “Well… well… what a pretty kettle of fish this is, upon my word,” Dorsett began. “Two French privateers taken… a private merchant vessel seized and then retaken and the privateer that took her seized into the bargain. Quite a fine haul for you, eh, Sir Edward? Not being attached to any squadron and under Admiralty orders, sets you up like Croesus, eh? Ha, ha, ha…! But, however… some difficulty in the disposition of these vessels, I’m afraid.”

  “In truth, sir,” Pellew offered. “I believe this situation goes beyond Admiralty law. It could even be argued that when these vessels are condemned or bought in by the prize court, that the Navy doesn’t share a jot, I dare say.”

  “Doesn’t share! Doesn’t share, Sir Edward!” Dorsett spluttered, his voluminous face blooming entirely crimson now. “They were captured by a Royal Navy frigate, for all love! Yardarm to yardarm in a desperate boarding action… don’t share, forsoothe…”

  Pellew drew in a breath and frowned, “The fact of the matter, Admiral… is that it was Captain Cook and her crew that seized both French vessels. As for the brig and the schooner… well, I don’t believe there is any question regarding their disposition. I’ve asked Mr. Fortescue to join us. As the king’s representative, he may be able to assist in sorting through the business.”

  “Do you realize that these two ships alone must represent ten or even twenty thousand pounds in prize money?” The Admiral asked indignantly. “I should think you’d be far less… complacent as regards their disposition, Sir Edward, I declare…”

  “For my part, Admiral,” Kate stated. “I’m more than willing to share out any reward equally between my crew and Sir Edward’s. Without the Indefatigable we certainly would never have been able to accomplish the captures.”

  “I should think that it would only be the Navy who shares,” Dorsett growled. “And that it is you, young lady, who would be grateful should Sir Edward decide to share with you, not the other way about! Such impudence! A woman playing at a ship’s captain… seventeen years of age… I’ve never heard of such in all my born days…”

  Kate’s earlier trepidation was rapidly being replaced with anger. Part of her knew that for the rest of her life, so long as she continued in her course to command a ship, she’d meet with this sort of prejudice. She was self-aware enough to understand the times in which she lived.

  However, what she had a difficult time accepting was being spoken down to by anyone. Over the last eight days, Catherine Cook had been propelled into her chosen lifestyle in just about as harsh a way as could be conceived. She’d gone from being a passenger on her way to America to locate and perhaps build a relationship with her mother’s family to helping to fight the brig, becoming a prisoner of French privateers and being appointed to command the same brig by her dying captain. She’d arranged to retake the brig and seize the schooner into the bargain. Then, less than two days at sea and she’d run headlong into a multi-ship action in which she and her men had hauled down the colors of no less than two French vessels.

  Was she now to sit there and be abused by this pompous Admiral who thought nothing of blaggarding anyone he chose? In the service, she knew, a subordinate had little recourse in such
matters. Even a decorated post captain such as Pellew would have to stand by and receive a full broadside of criticism and even insults. Legally he was not allowed even to fire back lest he be charged with insubordination or even mutiny. Yet Kate was not in the Navy, as the old son of a bitch had pointed out. She didn’t have to take abuse from anyone, her sex notwithstanding.

  “You go too far, sir!” Kate suddenly spoke out in a thundering voice surprising in a woman. She shot to her feet, just managing not to strike her head a shattering blow on the heavy oaken beam above her. She glared at the man with such ferocity in her eyes that it momentarily brought him up short. “The court will decide the fate of the vessels. I’ll abide by whatever decision they make… but what I will not abide, sir, is to be spoken to in such a disobliging manner!”

  “By God, child! You dare stand there on my fucking deck and dictate to me!” Dorsett roared, shooting to his own feet. His head was in no danger of striking a beam. “There is such a thing as discipline… propriety! There is such a thing as respect due one’s elders! Goddamn you, girl!”

  “Goddamn you, Admiral!” Kate shot back, her own face red with rage now. “I’m not in your goddamned navy, you flaming sodomite! By God, sir, I won’t take such abuse from anyone! You forget yourself entirely! You think because I’m a woman that you can abuse me so? No sir, no indeed! And I shall be happy to meet you anywhere and anytime you choose, if that’s how you feel about it!”

  Dorsett’s eyes were as wide as saucers, “Are you… are you calling me out, you jumped up little—“

  “Admiral,” Pellew said. He’d spoken evenly but in a tone that drew everything to a stop. “Let us not go too far.”

  The entire room seemed to be drowning in a heavy and tension-filled silence. The flag lieutenant, the flag secretary and even captain Kellogg were too stunned to speak. This woman was certainly unlike most they’d met. To fly out at an Admiral and even to suggest that they might meet on the field of honor was so beyond their experience they couldn’t quite decide how to react.