by Michael Aye
“Cease fire! Cease fire!” Gabe shouted to the gun deck. A midshipman was sent below to pass the word in case Lieutenant Bufford had not heard.
“Phoenix buggered her a good one, I expect,” Pittman swore.
“Aye, but it was Leopard who took their mind off the frigate,” Vallin returned, not wanting Leopard’s part to be belittled.
“Signal Frostbrier to board her,” Gabe ordered.
Leopard came about and hove to, awaiting Frostbrier’s report from the French ship. In a moment, he came to the rail. “Captain Earl, we have everything under control.” Vallin thought he’d misheard, ‘Captain Earl.’
“Aye, something’s amiss,” Gabe answered. “Do you have a surgeon?” Gabe called. “We have need as men are down. Mr. Vallin,” he whispered to his side, “quietly pass the word to fire when I say ‘men down’.”
“Aye, sir.” The orders were whispered along.
As Frostbrier didn’t reply, Gabe called again. “The surgeon, sir, we have men down.” He had given all the warning he could. “Fire, fire!”
Swivels, carronades and cannons all fired. The force of which seemed to shove Leopard over and caused the deck to shudder. When the smoke drifted away, Gabe could see no movement.
“Lieutenant Vallin, take the marines and a boarding party to the Frenchie.” Gabe impatiently waited for Leopard’s people to row over and board the enemy. As Vallin was boarding the ship, Frostbrier rose up.
“Are you injured, Captain?” Gabe shouted across the water.
“No, you warned us in time with your ‘men down’ comment,” Frostbrier replied.
Within a few minutes, Vallin was at the bulwark. “We’ve secured the ship, Captain. Our last broadside killed the captain and first lieutenant.”
“Just as well,” Gabe said. “I’d have hung the Frogs for being so devilish.”
“Hear that lads,” an old topman said. “’E’d ’ave hung the Frogs. Aye, that be cap’n we got. ’E don’t truck with no Frog dishonoring ’im or ’is people, ’e don’t.”
“’E wouldn’t ’ave ’ung no officer,” a young seaman responded.
“Thas yer youth speaking, me thinks. You ain’t been wid Sir Gabe long as I ’as. ’E treats you good till ’e’s crossed; and then look out. ’E breathes fire like a dragon when ’e’s pissed.”
“Humph,” the young seaman snorted.
“Think not, does you? Well, I’s got two rum rations what says you don’t want to cross him.” Waiting a moment for the seaman to reply, the topman snorted when the young man didn’t reply, “What I’s thought.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
A QUICK SURVEY OF THE French sixty-four showed she was in poor shape. Phoenix’s attack on the stern had caused enough damage but Leopard’s onslaught finished her off. They divided the surviving officers and crew between Phoenix and Leopard. The gunner from Leopard then went aboard the beaten ship and fired a cannon ball through her bottom. The ship settled and then slipped from sight.
“It always makes me melancholy to watch a possible command sink,” Vallin confided. Before the master could think of a suitable reply, Vallin made his way forward.
It was during the first dog watch that Phoenix and Leopard caught sight of Lord Anthony’s squadron. HMS SeaHorse was at the front with Jepson and Kirk’s ships to larboard and starboard. Tomahawk was in the rear of the formation.
The signal midshipman made his way to the quarterdeck. “From flag, sir, make more sail.”
Gabe choked back an angry reply and then thought that’s Stephen Earl’s attempt at humor. “We’re out sailing the flag now.”
From the mainmast lookout, a call came down. “Flag’s firing on the Frenchies.”
Vallin rolled his eyes. “That’s a hellish waste of information. Who else would he be firing on?”
Now the roll of thunder could be heard as Leopard continued to reach. Weather or guns, Gabe wondered.
As if reading his mind, Dagan volunteered, “Cannons, I believe.”
“Signal from flag,” the signals midshipman called again. “Engage the enemy.”
Lord Anthony had realized that Leopard was overreaching the squadron. His signal gave Gabe the authority to attack the convoy and not fall into formation.
“Phoenix’s number,” the midshipman called again. “Engage enemy.”
“Lord Anthony wants us to attack while he plays watchdog in case dé Gichen’s fleet decides to attack our ships again,” Gabe said.
“Aye,” Dagan replied, “but I fear we’re losing the wind again.”
True to Dagan’s prophecy, within the next hour the wind died, picked up and died again. But not before a handful of merchantmen had been taken.
On board the flagship, Lord Anthony’s frustration was apparent. Everyone except Bart made themselves scarce. Even a cup of Silas’s brandy-laced coffee did little to restore the admiral from his ill humors.
At times, the wind would tease the ships. A limp pendant would gain life, flap about a few minutes and then die as the wind fell. Tomahawk picked up a small breeze but it was gone by the time the sail handlers were called.
Lying close to Bulldog, Lieutenant Davy and Lieutenant Kirk passed the time throwing targets in the sea and firing at them; at first with muskets and then as bravado took hold, they attempted it with pistols. Captain Gregory Kirk had a matched pair of dueling pistols with rifled barrels whereas Captain David Davy had only sea service pistols. The results were Captain Kirk easily won the match but promised a rematch when they could compete with equal weapons.
Captain George Jepson on Revenant had engaged the surgeon in a game of chess. Aboard Leopard, Jacob Hex had broken out his guitar and entertained the crew with several jaunty tunes. Listening to his cox’n reminded Gabe of the days that he and Stephen Earl had enjoyed playing little tunes, often just on the naughty side. Damn, that seemed like a long time ago…before this damnable war. How many lives had it cost, Gabe wondered. And in the end…would it have been worth it?
Dagan pulled his shirt from his body. It was soaked with sweat. The deck seams fairly oozed and gripped at his sea boots. The actions against the French convoy thus far had been dismal. But no one could blame Lord Anthony. There could be no action without the wind. Would a day come when ships would not be at the mercy of the wind? Not in his lifetime, but perhaps one day. Looking across to the other ships in the squadron, Dagan found he had to squint and put his hand over his eyes to see past the sun’s glare. The seamen had moved again in their attempt to find a bit of shade. One seaman was taking advantage of the lull. He’d gotten with a petty officer in his division, and was writing a letter with the petty officer’s help. Was it to his parents, his wife, or some lover?
Thinking about lovers, Dagan wondered how Betsy was doing. Letters were few, due to this damnable war, but her last letter still proclaimed her love. How he missed her. So much so that it made him angry. One day soon he thought, one day soon.
***
“MIDSHIPMAN OF THE WATCH, suh,” the marine sentry announced. Lord Anthony was sitting at his desk, feet propped in another chair with the stern windows open hoping to catch a zephyr. The midshipman took it all in as he stood before Lord Anthony. “Captain’s compliments, sir. The Frogs…ere the French, appear to be catching the wind. At least it appears so.”
“Thank you, young sir,” Anthony said. “Let’s go on deck and see.”
“Aye, aye sir.”
Anthony stood and looked at his uniform coat and left it hanging on the back of the chair. It’s too damn hot for that, Lord Anthony thought. Besides, anyone not recognizing him without the coat was beyond help at any rate.
On deck, the sun was dimmed by slow moving gray clouds. Anthony could feel a slight coolness…a small breeze touched his face, a fleeting kiss with the innuendo of a breeze in the making.
“Mr. Waters feels like we are in for a squall, sir,” Captain Earl reported. “The French appear to have already benefitted from the wind and have gotten underway.”
> It was a quarter of an hour later when Lord Anthony’s ships picked up a gentle breeze. Slowly, the squadron was able to work their ships. With a leading wind and all the sail drawing, the pursuit of the French began again.
As the wind freshened even more, Captain Earl had the royals broken out. Seeing the look on the master’s face, he asked, “You disagree with the royals, Mr. Waters?”
“No, Captain, not for now. I was just wondering how long before we have to take them in.” Overhead, the gray clouds continued to build and were moving along at a fast pace. “It’s the weather that bothers me, Captain. Hurricane season it is and we’ve been seeing very little in the way of squalls. Makes me wonder if we might not be in for a big storm. The mercury will rise a bit and then fall, rise a bit and then fall but each time it’s fell a little further.”
“Do you think we’re in for a big blow?” Earl inquired.
“Not today, Captain. It’s just a feeling I’ve got.”
Captain Earl didn’t reach his lofty rank by ignoring the master. Seeing Midshipman Black, he called him over. “Take a glass and go aloft. Keep your eyes open.”
Two pair of eyes in the tops would not be amiss; especially when one pair was young eyes. The French were over the horizon before Lord Anthony’s ships caught the wind. The captured merchantmen had been sent to Jamaica. Earl was sure that while it was against regulations, some of the ships’ food would wind up as ship stores for Admiral Parker’s ships. Looking up as he stepped over the coaming to go to his cabin, Earl realized it had grown much darker.
***
FOUR P.M., THE FIRST dogwatch. The shrill of pipes still hung in the air and the echo of bare feet on the deck and ladders had just died away. The French convoy still had not been sighted, making Anthony think that once over the horizon they’d changed course. He’d spread his ships out to patrol a greater expanse but still no sighting. The promised squall had arrived. Short lived but violent in nature.
Captain Earl, the master, and Lord Anthony were now looking at a chart spread out on his lordship’s dining table.
“We should sight Bermuda in the morning, my Lord,” Waters, the master pointed out. “If we’ve not seen them by then, my guess is they made for the coast.”
The papers found aboard one of the taken merchant ships had indicated Norfolk and Yorktown as destinations. However, with so many places along the coast to offer sanctuary and so few British ships patrolling the French could have slipped in anywhere.
Making up his mind, Lord Anthony pecked the chart with his finger. “If we’ve not spotted them by tomorrow, we will pull in at Bermuda, replenish our fresh water and return to Barbados.”
“What about the prize crews at Jamaica?” Waters asked quickly.
“Ah, yes,” Anthony replied with a smile. “I recall a master’s mate you took pride in, a protégé, I recall was sent with one of the prizes.”
“Aye,” Waters replied. “One I’d like not to lose. Should I fall, he’d be the one to take my place.”
“We’ll not leave your student adrift,” Anthony promised.
“Thank you, my Lord. Not just for me, but for ole SeaHorse, as well.”
“Sail ho! Sail ho!” The cry sent Captain Earl scrambling.
“My pardon,” Earl said, as he sped on deck.
SeaHorse’s first lieutenant was on deck when hatless Earl gained the quarterdeck. “Just off the bow, sir, several sails. I’ve sent Mr. Prentiss aloft.”
“Thank you, Mr. Neal. I’m sure his Lordship will be on deck directly. I’d not want to be lacking in information when he arrives.”
“Warships, sir,” the midshipman called down. Then after a beat or two, Prentiss called down again. “British warships, sir. The lead ship is flying an admiral’s flag.”
***
ADMIRAL LORD WILLIAM CORNWALLIS’ force consisted of two sixty-fours, two aged fifties, and a thirty-two gun frigate. With Anthony being the senior, Lord Cornwallis was rowed aboard HMS SeaHorse as the two squadrons lay hove to. He had sighted the French convoy and attacked the transports. Word had it that the French troops commanded by M. dé Rochambeau were headed to North America to ally themselves with the Colonials.
“It appears it’s us against the world,” Cornwallis said bitterly. “The Colonials, the Frogs, now the Dons and, if Lord Skalla is to be believed, the Dutch are throwing in with the rest.”
“Is Lord Skalla with you?” Lord Anthony asked.
“No, he went with Janus back to Jamaica. She has been used most abusively and was sent back for repairs.”
“Do you feel we’ve anything to gain by continuing the chase?” Lord Anthony asked.
“No, in truth, I don’t,” Cornwallis admitted. Again bitterness had crept back in his voice.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
ADMIRAL PETER PARKER WELCOMED the combined squadrons of Vice Admiral Lord Anthony and Rear Admiral Lord Cornwallis. He had news for Cornwallis that may or may not be what he wished to hear. He was being recalled to England. Most would think it was welcomed news, but in this case, Parker was not sure. It would mean leaving his mistress, behind…or would it? Parker had heard of men taking their mistresses back to England. Mostly it was accepted. But, a former slave? Even if she was a doctress, it would be pushing it.
***
LORD ANTHONY INVITED ALL his captains to dine. For the most part the group was all good-natured, and all on more than one occasion had been the brunt of a practical joke by one of the others. Lieutenant Davy, Captain of Tomahawk, had hidden a snake in his coat and when he’d visited Bulldog, and went to shake hands with Captain Kirk, he had the wiggling serpent in his hand and it coiled itself around Kirk’s arm.
Kirk slung the snake off his hand and it crawled across the deck toward the marines, who were hopping about trying not to break formation. Finally, a mid down on his knees grabbed the snake, which with its tiny teeth latched onto the mid’s hand. Howling, the youth shook his hand and in doing so he slung the snake over the side where it swam away. The cries and laughter could be heard on several ships anchored close by. Davy, with a smirk on his face, swore he didn’t know how the snake had gotten in his coat sleeve unless it had been attached to Bulldog’s man rope unknowingly.
“Damn you,” Kirk had said. “See when I give you a second chance with target pistols again.”
“Good thing ’e didn’t try such a trick on Jep,” Bart had told Mahan. “Otherwise, ’e may ’ave had to eat the bugger.”
By the time all the captains were seated and SeaHorse’s youngest midshipman had given the loyal toast, the meal was served. With supplies available from Port Royal, the meal was lavish. Silas had the help of a couple mess men, so he used a recipe from Gabe’s servant, Josh Nesbit, and prepared a turtle soup. The soup was so tasty, the bowls were cleaned. Next came a rack of lamb garnished with a glazed sweet orange sauce. New potatoes, carrots, garden peas, and hot bread filled the table. Dessert was a medley of bananas, berries, and pineapple with a sweetened cream to dip each piece of fruit in. The fruit and cream could also be poured over sweet bread. Like the main course, the dessert, another one of Nesbit’s recipes, was a hit.
After the meal, Lord Anthony brought out the cigars and brandy. Thinking of how young virgins rolled the cigars between their thighs made Lieutenant Davy enjoy the cigar even more; so he shared his new found knowledge with the rest of the captains. Gabe was sitting to the left of his brother so that when Lord Anthony asked where Davy had come up with such a tale, Gabe answered, “I’m afraid my first lieutenant, Con Vallin, being the worldly man that he is, imparted this knowledge to our Lieutenant Davy.”
“And he believes it?” Lord Anthony asked.
Smiling, Gabe replied, “Well, let’s just say it leads to pleasant thoughts.” Lord Anthony smiled as he spun his cigar in his mouth, wondering how long they’d be able to enjoy the Cuban cigars now that the Dons had sided with the Colonials.
Clinking on a glass with a spoon, Lord Anthony was able to get everyone’s attention.
“Gentlemen, I believe we’ve done as much damage to the enemy in these parts as we can. They, at least, know the British Navy will not stand by while its citizens are attacked and abused. Now, before we’re overrun by soiled maidens and angry fathers, we’ll weigh anchor in the morning and sail for home.” This brought a round of applause and cheers.
“Captain Kirk, you will sail in company with Captain Anthony to Antigua, where sad as I am to lose her, we must return Leopard to her rightful commander, if he is well. If so, Captain Anthony and his men will return to Barbados aboard your ship. Admiral Moffett will ultimately decide as to what course of action will take place with Leopard.”
Gabe had known his time aboard was limited. But he would miss Leopard. She was a good ship and had been perfectly suited for the type of warfare they’d been engaged in. Some said the fifty gun ship, like the larger sixty-fours, would soon be discontinued. Obsolete. They couldn’t stand in line and trade broadsides with the newer seventy-fours like SeaHorse. The powers that be at the Admiralty were deep water sailors. They didn’t understand the need for ships to fight in the shallow waters of the Florida Cays, the Bahamas, or even between some of the West Indies Islands. Gabe already knew their answer was the frigate. They were getting bigger and heavily armed. Soon the small twenty–eight gun frigates would be gone as well; maybe the thirty-two’s also. Thirty-six and thirty-eights were now coveted commands. Would he get one? Was Phoenix planned for him? Gil had been closed mouthed about his plans, something of a rarity. He usually confided in Gabe most of his plans, frequently after the evening meal when the wives were gossiping or playing with the kids. Macayla was turning into a little mama and liked to help with James.
Dagan had also been quiet of late. He had told Gabe when asked, that he’d not gotten any feelings in regards to what might be next. “I’m sorry,” Dagan had answered. “My mind has been on Virginia.” What he meant, Gabe knew, was Betsy, General Manning’s daughter.
It amazed Gabe at times how both he and Dagan’s loves had come from the Colonies, the enemy. So did Dagan’s comment about its hard to kill an enemy you don’t hate. Other than a few rogues even the Americans didn’t like, it was hard to bring war against your wife’s country or your love’s country.
