by Michael Aye
Before the man hit the ground Dagan brought the barrel
of his gun down across the man's head, feling him.
When Dagan struck his man, Caleb and Kawliga joined in the battle, Caleb fighting two men. One had been hit so hard his eyes refused to focus but his partner landed a punch that felt like a lightening bolt had struck Caleb, causing his jaw to pop and immediately ache.
One man had pull ed a knife and slashed at Caleb but Kawliga charged him and put the man down with his tomahawk. Caleb wobbled awkwardly for a moment before recovering his wits.
Dagan was facing another of the men who was breathing heavily now. The fight had already lasted longer than he would have thought. Dagan's foe had pull ed his blades and the two men circled, each looking for the advantage. Dagan's foot hit a slick muddy spot on the wet ground. Seeing his opponent slip the man slashed out, ripping Dagan's shirt and drawing blood.
With the man off balance, Dagan sent a crashing left to the man's face. Blood started to drip from the man's lips and nose as he struggled to keep his feet under him.
At that time, the man who Caleb had first encountered jumped Dagan from behind. Dagan lurched his body trying to loosen the man's grip. The two men struggled and finally they both hit the ground, roling, wrenching this way and that, before scrambling back on their feet. As Dagan gained his balance, he gave a sudden forward lunge flipping the man over his back and into the rushing river. The man's screams were heard as the swift current swept the man downstream.
Turning back to the melee, Caleb and Kawliga were
holding their own. With three of the rogues down, the numbers were now on Dagan and his group's side.
Kawliga and his opponent circled one another.
Kawliga's foe charged and the two hit the wet ground roling over. Kawliga was much smaller than his man but was quicker. When the man rol ed over, he pull ed a large wicked knife from his boot. Seeing the blade, Kawliga grabbed a hand full of mud and slung it into the man's face and eyes causing the man to spit and sputter.
As the man tried to wipe the mud from his eyes, Kawliga picked up a knife Dagan's foe had dropped and gave it a throw. The blade sunk into the man's throat. With a face full of mud and blood gushing from his neck, the man sunk to his knees then fel face first into the mud Kawliga had just used to his advantage.
Caleb had just landed a blow to his man. It was a vicious left hook. The force of the blow knocked the man backward onto his buttocks. The man felt paralyzed and limp. It suddenly dawned on him the fight was over. His friends were al down. Sitting in the muddy shall ows good sense prevailed. The exhausted man used the last of his strength to jump up and run.
Kawliga quickly picked up a musket to bring the man down but Dagan intervened.
"Let him go. Let's get up to the post and dry out and maybe get a hot meal."
Jubal had kept his attention on the man on the porch. The man had kept seated al during the fight. As the victors approached the trading post he stood up.
"Glad I am to see ’ em gone. Trash. Trash is what they be. Been here three days drinking up my corn squeezing and eating my food without paying a cent.
Yes sir, I'm glad to see ’ em gone. Supper's on the stove and if you've a mind, a warm bed for the night." The group was more than willing to accept the man's hospitality.
Chapter Six
The lanthorn hanging off Warrior's stern gave a yel ow glow through the fog. The lanthorn would swing larboard then starboard with the gentle rol of the flagship. The wet fog bit through the clothes of the men on watch. Like a ghost, patches would drift through sections of the ship making them invisible for a time, then visible again. On the larboard side loomed the rocky shoreline.
"I don't like it," Oxford said as he approached Captain Moffett and Lord Anthony. Both agreed with the master. Above, the faint slapping of cordage against the mast seemed to get on Moffett's nerves.
"Mr. Herrod!"
"Aye, captain."
"Can you not hear that infernal racket?"
"Aye, sir."
"Then dammit, man. Do something about it."
"Aye, sir, right away."
"Good, I hope I don't have to remind you further to take care of your duties."
"No sir, I'll see them done."
Lord Anthony felt clammy as he wiped the moisture from his face. Droplets of moisture had gathered in Oxford 's beard and dripped to the deck.
"I can smell the stench of the shore," Oxford sounded distressed. "Not a fit place for a man-o-war if you ask me."
Anthony had to agree. The Bay of Bundy was narrow and the coast treacherous. Anthony's squadron was escorting a convoy to St. John's, New Brunswick. If Oxford was right the Grand Manan Island was just to larboard.
Privateers had considered this area their personal raiding grounds. It was rumored they had captured from these waters enough powder and shot to keep Washington 's army supplied for a year. small gunboats would dash in and cut out a supply ship before the convoy escort even knew something was amiss.
Anthony had hoped to prevent this from happening to supply ships under his protection. It took daring and experienced captains but Anthony was sure of his captains. Most had been with him for several years.
Drakkar was off on independent patrol but Anthony had the rest of his convoy sail in a diamond formation.
Stephen Earl was in temporary command of SeaWolf and sailed at the head of the formation. Warrior was further astern of SeaWolf and Pigeon and Audacity were on the flanks with Buck bringing up the rear in Merlin.
In the middle sailed the convoy. Anthony had held a meeting with al the convoy's captains and laid out specific instructions and sailing plans for the rest of their journey to St. Johns. From Maine, most had already at some point been witness to the raiders and therefore were willing to comply with the Admiral's orders.
Anthony had been looking towards the invisible coast, sensing the nearby dangers he couldn't see.
"Not a fit day ’ta my way of thinking, sir." Anthony had been so engrossed with the dangerous coast he'd not been aware Bart had approached. "I think it's a prime day for privateers," Anthony responded. "They could be on us before we knew it with this damn fog."
"Aye," Bart answered. "I brung yew a cloth to wipe ye face. Maybe ye glass when the fog lifts." Looking at his thoughtful cox'n, Anthony asked,
"You getting a case of nerves?"
"Nerves? Nay, my lord, it's a bel y full of Silas and that damn ape I'm getting. Do you know my lord Silas asked me to take the damn ape to the head so's he could shat. Damned if I will."
Anthony couldn't help but smile to himself. Bart's anger was more to do with Mr. Jewell s downing a tankard of rum Bart had made the mistake of setting down on the table while he opened a stern window.
"Think the little bastard can swim?" Bart had asked angrily. "I feel like drowning the bugger." It was the first time Anthony had ever heard Bart and Silas have words. "You shouldn't ’na left it to tempt him," Silas had flung back at Bart. "He doesn't know any better."
"I'll be glad when Caleb gets back and gets his damn ape," Bart had said in a raised voice as he'd stormed out of the pantry.
Well, Anthony thought, I'll be glad too, more so if Gabe is with him.
A slight breeze stirred, and then the wind picked up from the south. It rolled back the fog and only small patches remained, and then the remnants thinned and disappeared.
"Gunboats, gunboats to the larboard," the lookout cal ed down.
"Luck," Bart said, "Iffen the wind had held they'd been among us ’fore we knowed it."
Moffett was quick. He'd already given the order to beat to quarters, however, Earl on SeaWolf had already picked out targets and was firing.
The raiders were using galleys, not unlike those the Spanish or Algerians used. The boats carried two short masts and lateen sails with a minimum of canvas and cordage so they could be easily handled by untrained men. They were also pierced for sweeps which gave an added benefit for maneuverability. Ea
ch gunboat carried two great guns, one in the bow and one in the stern. Each could be elevated, lowered or transversed.
Most of the guns were thirty-two pounders, some even carried several swivels. Even though the vessels looked clumsy, they handled easy enough and each carried ninety to one-hundred men. More when needed for a cutting out expedition, such as in the close quarters as the Bay of Bundy.
Upon the sighting, Bart had rushed down and got Lord Anthony's weapons. "Here's your sword and pistol," he said, "Looks like we's in for a bit ’o ’citment."
"A hot bit it appears," Anthony replied as one of the gun boats thirty-two pounders cut loose at close range.
"Pigeon and Audacity will never stand up to that. Captain Moffett!"
"Aye, my Lord."
"How many gun boats are attacking?"
"The lookout has made out six, my Lord. Two forward, two astern and just forward of Merlin and two abeam. They're low in the water making our gunnery difficult."
"A hit by gawd," this from the masthead lookout.
"Two to one the gunner laid that himself," Moffett exclaimed.
A sudden explosion and Warrior seemed to shudder.
Aft a large section of the taffrail had a huge gouge where the thirty-two pound bal had torn its ugly path.
"Luckily, no one was injured. He fired at extreme elevation," Moffett said. "He'd have done better shooting at the rudder instead of the mast."
"Don't give the bugger's no ideas," Bart cried.
"One's twixt SeaWolf and the convoy," the lookout cried down.
"Mr. Herrod?"
"Aye, cap'n."
"See if we can get a shot with the bowchaser."
"Directly, sir."
"Mr. Foxxe, Mr. Foxxe to the bow," Herrod cal ed the gunner as he made his way forward.
"Look," Anthony cried, "Looks like Merlin has a hit."
"Aye, Mr. Buck's done for that bugger, he has," Bart said as he turned toward Anthony. "`Hit don't seem right, do it sir, ’usuns being by-standers and the like."
"Got a touch of battle lust do you, Bart?"
"Aye, sir, guess I does. It's hard to be a sight-seer."
"Don't fret my friend, you'll get your chance and with this fog and smoke it may be sooner than you think."
"My Lord!"
"Yes, captain."
"Foxxe hit the gunboat but they boarded the supply ship and have cut her out to starboard. Audacity has taken chase."
"Very well, captain, by my count we've sunk three of the raiders. Where are the other three?"
"I'm not sure my Lord, between the ’fog of war' and nature's fog visibility is poor. The master swears he can hear the waves on the rocks to larboard so he's edgy."
"Well, I'd like to not get any closer myself," Anthony said. "No telling what else they got waiting on us." Moffett's fog of war was the gun smoke. The raiders thirty-two pounders gave off a tremendous amount of smoke. The heavy smell filling the air and burning one's eyes.
"Deck there, Pigeon's grappled with one of the raiders."
"Damme," Moffett shouted. "Can you see the other raider?"
"No sir," the lookout cal ed down.
"Should we send Merlin to assist my Lord?" Moffett asked.
"No, not without knowing where the other raider has gotten. The gunboat will not likely be able to traverse its cannons before it has to repel boarders. Let's just hope Mr. Kerry has his wits about him today." While visibility was difficult, the din of battle was clearly heard between Pigeon and the raider. Musket shots, men's cries of anger turned into cries of pain. At moments the gleam of metal could be seen as a blade flashed through the air only to rise bloody.
"Captain Moffett? As we are almost on Pigeon send a couple of boats to assist Lieutenant Kerry. I'm sure Captain Dunlap would be more then willing to contribute a squad of marines."
"Aye, my Lord, I'll see to it."
Looking down from his flagship, Anthony could see the dirty chop of a wave against the hull. Mangled bodies and debris was al about, some of it thumping again and again against Warrior as she moved slowly ahead. The battle was al but over but he received no pleasure. How many of the Americans and British lives had been lost? It seemed different when he had been in
the thick of battle but now… now! Bart was right, being a sight-seer was difficult. "Captain's compliments, sir, but Merlin has signalled they've cut off escape by the raiders and Audacity has boarded and retook the ship."
"Thank you, Mr. Dewy. Any word on the other raiders?"
"No sir, but we're still searching. The master thinks they took wind."
"Well, we'll see if the master is right."
"Aye, my Lord."
"Looks like they've took the other bugger sir, they've put up a flag," Bart volunteered. "Brave man that Mister Kerry is, not the smartest block I've known, but he ain't no coward, sir."
"Bart."
"Aye, sir."
"You're talking about a King's officer."
"He won't be long, sir, ’iffen you don't teach ’em some smarts. Likely get himself and half his crew Lt. `Scretion is what ’e needs ’ta learn."
"You mean discretion."
"Aye, sir, `scretion and plenty of it, I'm thinking."
Chapter Seven
Skirting the usual wagon path, Lum worked his way toward the slaves' quarters that sat scattered among the oak trees behind the main house. A haggard looking outbuilding had started to lean and was in danger of falling. This building sat in such a way it blocked the view of Lum's small cabin from the rear windows and back porch of the main house.
It was here that Lum halted the mule. "Whoa…
Whoa now Bessie." As soon as the wagon stopped the mule immediately started cropping grass and swishing flies with her tail. Helping nanny down the two slaves went to the back of the wagon to help with Gabe.
"You don't think we can take him up to the house?" Faith asked.
"Child, you see dat uniform. Dis man is one of dem heathen Britishers like tried to take Charlestown. Maybe he even was a part of it," Nanny said rebuking the girl.
"Master Adam see this man he'll put him in jail like he does with folks at times. Shuck's he might even ’jus shoot him."
Hearing this stopped Faith's objections. Nanny was right.
"What you ought to be worrying about is what's gonna happen to Lum if the Marse finds dat man heah.
Like as not he'll set Marse Hindley loose on Lum with dat whip ’o his."
"I won't let him," Faith said trying to be stern.
"Not much you can do, child," Lum said for the first time. "We's ’a chance it. I don't like to see none of God's creatures suffer. Now let's get this po' soul inside and you go fetch Ruby. She's helped with delivering babies and fixing mules and ’da hosses and such. So maybe she can help him. Besides she'll keep her mouth shut."
***
Several days went by with Gabe suffering from high fevers. Ruby had washed and cleaned his wounds and put several stitches in his leg using a hair from ’ole Bessie, the mule's tail. Food was sneaked in for Gabe, and Faith was able to get some clothes together so Gabe's uniform could be cleaned and repaired. As Gabe's health improved he became anxious to be up and about. Lying in Lum's bed, he watched the single candle as it gave off a faint yellow glow.
The flickering flame caused wavering shadows on the rough wooden wall s of the cabin. The shadows would take shapes that would disappear, and reappear, and then other shapes would merge together. Watching the candles and hearing the slaves whisper among themselves Gabe grew afraid, not of death but of capture.
How long would he be held? He thought of his brother, Gil; surely he'd think he was dead. What of Dagan? Gabe was sure he was alive. If he were unhurt he'd be coming to get him. At times Gabe would fall asleep and awaken with Faith sitting next to him usual y running her fingers along the gray furrow on his scalp.
Once her kissing his lips woke him. When he reached for her she darted out of the cabin.
Damned if this girl didn't in
trigue him, Gabe thought. He got to where when he heard her enter the cabin he'd pretend to be asleep just to feel her hands, soft and tender, caressing his face and always touching his gray furrow.
"I know you're not asleep. You're just lying there pretending and hoping for another kiss but you'll not get it."
Listening to Faith caused a slight smile Gabe couldn't prevent. He opened his eyes and looking at the beauty staring down at him said, "God, I'm in love."
"Well, I still ain't kissing you," Faith replied. "Here I done saved yore hide and you playing possum with me to steal a kiss. I ought to turn you in, is what I ought to do, and I still might." But as Faith rose from the side of Gabe's bed she looked to see if anyone was watching, quickly leaned over and gave Gabe a quick peck on the lips, then without a word she dashed off.
With his strength returning Gabe would get out of bed and move about the cabin. "Keep away from ’da
’doh," Lum had begged. Tonight he could stand it no longer. He had to be about, he had to have some fresh air.
"Well, if you ’dat determined we'll take a stroll when the marse goes down," Lum said. Gabe could tell the
old black man didn't like the idea but also understood Gabe's needs.
Walking through the shadows Gabe paused under a giant oak tree. The front of the house was there before him. It was a huge white house with eight columns. It was set up high off the ground and while the house was wood, it had been bricked from the ground up to the porch. Gabe counted ten steps that had to be twenty feet wide, leading up to the porch.
"Why is the house built so high?" Gabe asked Lum.
"Cause ’da be a flood. This heah is what ’da cal s the low country. ’Da's a river what flows to the marsh and den ’da's the ocean. Course back datta way ’da's a swamp. Marse Hindley say's they's crocogators in dat swamp what eat up people."
Gabe had never heard of a crocogator but didn't pursue it. "Why do they brick up around the house?" Gabe asked, still curious as to the design.
"Why dat helps keep out ’da rattlers and cottonmouths and copperheads. It's where ’da ’stoh the potatoes and vegetables. And when we get eggs from the hen house we keep ’dem there cause it's the coolest place. Marse Adam keeps his wine and cider down there too."
