Barracuda tfa-3

by Michael Aye

  "We still may take a peek," Anthony replied not yet ready to give up. He then turned his attention back to Gunnells, "Tell me about Cayo Hueso."

  "It used to be called Bone Key from all the dead Indians that died in a big Indian War," Gunnells said,

  "Now it's called Cayo Hueso which is Dago for Key West. It's a small island about three and one-half by one and one-half miles. My charts say it's the deepest port between New Orleans in the Gulf and Norfolk in the Atlantic. Due to the abundant rainfall there's usually plenty of fresh water. The island is full of small inlets that wind their way into thick stands of mangroves. There are also lots of mahogany trees that are good for ship's repair. Far as I know while both Havana and Britain

  claim it, no one government controls it. It's used by fishermen to dry and salt their catch. There's more'n one story of wreckers luring some ship in only to run aground. While the port is deep water it'd take a skilled man to navigate the treacherous reefs and currents.

  Somebody like your flag lieutenant."

  "My flag lieutenant?" Anthony quizzed with a surprised look on his face.

  "Aye, my lord. We've shared a wet at the Mermaid and he told me before the war he'd done a bit o'… salvage work."

  "Well, damme," Anthony exclaimed, "Maybe Dagan's lady luck has decided to smile down upon us." Then almost as an afterthought Anthony asked,

  "Did anyone get a name for this ghost ship?"

  "Aye," Bart spoke up again, "She be the Barracuda."

  "Hummph…," Anthony mused. "Is there anything to suggest the Argus and Barracuda are in link."

  "No, my lord, just the opposite I would say," Earl answered. "Unlike the organization we found with the captain of the Reaper, the Barracuda has chosen the name well. She appears to be a rogue ship that for the most part operates alone. A ship that has a vendetta for the British."

  At this point the sentry announced, "Merlin's first lieutenant says winds picking up." Upon hearing this, the two masters made their way topside. Gabe said his goodbyes and departed as well.

  "Did you find anything else of interest on the Argus?" Anthony asked Earl after everyone was gone.

  "Not really, sir. Stores were almost depleted so I believe the ship was headed to replenish them. I was amazed at the variation and amounts of specie… hard specie that was found. There was a chest full of specie from every nation, silver livres, gold louis, guineas, pistoles, dollars, all hard coins, no paper at all my lord." Barracuda

  "Humph!" Anthony grunted, "You must have made it to the captain's cabin before Dagan got there."

  "Sir," Earl asked, not quite sure what to make of Anthony's words.

  "I said you must have searched the captain's cabin before Dagan had a chance."

  "Oh no, my lord. It was he that found the specie." Nodding his head in understanding Anthony said,

  "Well you can damn well bet you only got half at best."

  "Half sir?"

  "Yes, man, half," Anthony spoke sharply as the pain from his wound was getting more bothersome. "You can be sure Dagan got all he could carry before you were notified of its existence."

  "Oh! I catch your drift, sir. Do we search Dagan's belongings?"

  Anthony just looked up at Earl with a hard look that spoke volumes even though he was silent.

  Seeing the look Earl said, "No, I don't believe there's a need to embarrass Dagan. I don't see how he could have appropriated any significant amount of the booty without my knowledge."

  "If you're sure," Anthony said, "then it's a moot point. I have nothing but the utmost in trust and confidence in my captains so your word is good enough for me."

  Earl suddenly looked anxious. He rose from his seat, gulped down the wine in his glass then suddenly remembered he was needed on deck. As he left the cabin Bart came out of the pantry, "Smart bugger, ain't he?"

  "Bart!"

  "Aye, my lord, I know's he's a King's ozzifer and a smart un to boot I'm thinking."

  Anthony quickly recovered from his injuries once they returned to Saint Augustine. He refused the bosun chair when going back on board Warrior, but by the time he made it up the ladder and through the entry port he was wishing he hadn't let pride get in the way of comfort.

  Captain Buck was taken aback by Anthony's pale flesh tones and stooped position as he walked. Once in his stateroom Silas had a cup of his special coffee ready for the admiral, then went about making Anthony comfortable as he laid down on his day bed. Captain Earl and his ship's surgeon had accompanied the admiral over to the flagship. Merlin's surgeon was explaining to Warrior's surgeon Caleb's plan of treatment for the admiral.

  "The man's treating the admiral and he's not even in the Navy," Merlin's surgeon exclaimed.

  Standing to the side Bart was amazed to hear the conversation. It appeared the two ship's surgeons were somewhat in awe at Caleb's plan of care.

  "I would have bled him a pint at least," Johnson, who was Warrior's surgeon, said.

  "Nay," McBain, from Merlin answered. "Caleb says the depletion of volume stresses the cardium and prevents the sanguine suppuration which delivers the humours from the wound."

  Damn me ears, Bart thought. I don't need to be listening to this but if I's ever wounded I hope Caleb is handy.

  Anthony sipped his coffee patiently until the two surgeons finished addressing his wound. He politely stated, "Now if you gentlemen will forgive me I have duties to discuss with the flag captain." Once the surgeons had left, Anthony moved around until he found a relaxing position. He then turned to Buck and asked, "Has anything of interest developed while I was gone?"We had a day of strong wind and rain. Enough that the master wanted to up anchor and put some distance between us and the land."

  Shaking his head in understanding Anthony recalled his recent conversation with the Governor, "If it came a blow they would have to put to sea."

  "Did you hear me, sir?" Buck asked.

  "My apologies Rupert, my mind was on the weather and this damnable anchor. You were saying?"

  "I was saying, sir, that Knight and Markham had a running battle with a group of privateers but lost them after the sun went down. Knight thinks they made it into one of the many inlets between Port Royal and Savannah. Markham wanted to explore a likely place feeling that with Swan's shallow draught he could put a man in the chains and get a look see."

  "However, since Neptune was too large to follow and render assistance should it be needed, Knight denied Markham 's request."

  "Sir Raymond is a wise officer," Anthony said.

  "Aye, my lord, I believe a few of our younger captains have succeeded until it may now prove to be a liability," Buck said.

  "Meaning Francis and Gabe?" Anthony asked.

  "Aye," Buck answered matter-of-factly. "Them along with Bush and Kerry. That damn fool stunt of Kerry's, taking on a gunboat off Nova Scotia had disaster written all over it. Bart was right when he said,

  "Brave man, Mister Kerry is, but not the smartest block I've known."

  Anthony smiled in spite of himself recalling the day.

  "I didn't know Bart's words had got out." Now Buck was smiling, "Got out, my lord! Why they're damn near legendary," Buck exclaimed. "Bart summed up the feeling of every tar in the whole squadron with that one sentence. And with him being

  the admiral's own cox'n! Why damn my eyes, sir, but most of the officers felt the same as Bart but wouldn't say it.

  Over the next few days the number of ships entering port increased until the anchorage and even the harbour was bustling. Ships delivering their cargo of precious supplies that would be needed to maintain the force at Saint Augustine until after the hurricane season.

  Anthony kept up the patrols and Merlin in company with SeaWolf and Audacity had driven off a group of privateers attempting to raid the convoy that had just dropped anchor. A dilapidated xebec had been taken prize.

  Where in God's name had that come from, Anthony wondered.

  Earl had said when he reported, "She's an old craft, sir, her batteries w
ere mounted with the refuse guns off some Frenchy's old, rusty relic's that had long since served their real usefulness. I'm surprised they didn't blow to pieces when they were fired."

  "Well," Anthony said, "maybe the Governor will have a use for her so that she'll make the jacks a farthing or two."

  Earl then silenced his admiral and flag captain as he continued, "The captain of the xebec was Spanish, sir.

  He was mortally wounded in the battle but he was still able to talk when we boarded. He was in fact in a rage and damned us all to hell for stealing his home and his land. I didn't put much stock in his ranting until in a fit of coughing he gasped "you were nothing but bait for the Barracuda and Don Luis de Lavago." The crew of the xebec was a mixed bunch. With a little persuading we discovered from a man who is most assuredly a British deserter, but claims to be Canadian, that Captain Barracuda

  Galvez… Cesar Galvez, was always complaining of losing his plantation in Cow Ford."

  "Humph!" Anthony grunted when Earl had finished his report. "I will bet herein lies the reason for the ruthless destruction of British ships. A Spaniard or Spaniards who were probably forced by circumstances, cultural differences, or any number of reasons to relocate to Cuba after the treaty between Spain and England."

  "Aye," Buck said, "A man with a vendetta. I wonder if we could find out more of either Captain Galvez or Don… "

  "Don Luis de Lavago," Earl added. "Gabe and I discussed this when we captured the xebec and he said with your permission, sir, he would see if he could find anything out from Domingo."

  "Yes… yes, that would be useful," Anthony replied after a moment of thought. "I understand he is a man of much knowledge."

  Hearing this Buck added, "He's a man with a beautiful daughter as well, my lord. Keeps our Sir Raymond in a fit of humours."

  "Not just Sir Raymond," Earl added, "But I believe he's won Nancy 's heart if not her hand. I'm not sure how that will play out but I wouldn't be surprised to see a Lady Knight in the not to distant future."

  "Would a priest be willing to do that?" Anthony questioned. "Sir Raymond's a Protestant."

  "A sea captain could," Buck interjected, "If Domingo approved."

  That night Gabe spent time talking with his friend and business partner. Since the incident with Lancaster, the tavern had become something of a "hangout" for the warrants and officers in Anthony's squadron. Business was better than it had ever been and Domingo for once

  had realized a substantial profit. Gabe had earned a tidy sum himself and though he hadn't told Domingo as yet he intended to turn sole ownership of the tavern back over to the man when orders came for his ship. Tonight over a glass of sangria they talked of Don Luis de Lavago.

  "Si, my compadre, I know of him. He was a very rich aristocrat from Madrid. Only he was the second son. He had accumulated much though. He owned… how you say it, mucho land along the Saint Johns River all the way to Cowford. Much time and expense had been made and when he's at the point to make mucho dinero England suddenly owns all his land and holdings with nothing for all his expense and labors.

  Havana had nothing to offer that would equal his loss I am told. Now he is a violent, sick man with much hatred.

  He hates all gringos. No offense, senor."

  "None taken," Gabe assured Domingo.

  "Don Luis hates all whites but because his cause and needs are the same as the rebels to the north he has, on occasion, formed a loose allegiance. If they win the war it is said his former holding will be returned by the rebels.

  Who knows? It is too much for Domingo to consider." This, Gabe believed. Like thousands of people at home who believed the war was Lord North's doings and the only people who would benefit from the war would be the rich, not the common man.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The sun was blood red and high in the sky. Neptune, Swan and Pigeon sailed southward under a lazy wind and unwavering glare. To look upon the shining water made your eyes hurt. Deck seams were so sticky that they gripped to a man's foot.

  Knight had just seen a sailor jump as barefooted he stepped on a bubble of tar. Leaning against the bulwark he could feel the heat off the adjacent cannon. The barrels were as hot as if they had been in battle.

  Lord Anthony was acting upon information he'd recently received that the privateer ship Barracuda was seen operating off the southern tip of Florida and the Keys. There seemed to be some idea as to who the cutthroat was that commanded the Barracuda but when the patrol had sailed nothing more definite had been found out.

  Feeling sticky and clammy Knight called to his first lieutenant, "Mr. Brooks, I'm going to my cabin to sign some papers. The master has promised a shower this afternoon and I don't think a little cooling off would be amiss. However, keep a close eye out for squalls as well as sails and call me if you need me."

  Before the "aye, captain" was out of Brooks mouth Knight's head disappeared down the companion ladder.

  After an hour or so of working at his desk Knight felt the motion of the ship become a bit livelier and at the same time realized the cabin had become dimmer and the sun didn't seem to penetrate the stained glass in the stern windows as it had an hour ago. Returning on deck he could instantly feel a sharp stinging rain.

  "I was just sending the midshipman for you, sir," Lieutenant Brooks volunteered, "although our good master says this will only last an hour or so."

  "Well," Knight answered as the rain pelted away at his thin shirt, "if it cools things down it will be worth a little dampness."

  As is the usual for his breed the master was right on the mark. "Fifty-five minutes by me watch," he exclaimed as suddenly the rain ceased.

  "Land ho, off the starboard bow," the lookout called down.

  There was an island just making itself visible as the clouds cleared from the sky. Sunlight beat across the deck on the damp planking and large drops from the recent squall dripped down from the rigging leaving dark circles on the deck that dried quickly.

  "Deck there," the lookout called down, "sails just off yonder island."

  Before Knight could digest this information Lieutenant Brooks was at his side, "Signal from Pigeon, sir, requests permission to investigate."

  "Permission granted," Knight replied. Pigeon had been on station to starboard and therefore was between Neptune and the Keys. Meanwhile Markham had Swan on station to larboard of Neptune.

  The sail turned out to be a small lugger and the captain had ignored the signal to heave to, so Pigeon was trying to overhaul the small ship. Watching as the lugger made its Barracuda

  way through a channel heading into the Keys, Lieutenant Kerry of Pigeon was daydreaming. He loved his little ketch but he longed for something bigger, something like SeaWolf. Now that was a command to have. Damned if he wouldn't be able to put away a bit of prize money if he commanded a ship so fine.

  Suddenly, Kerry was awakened from his daydreams.

  Why hadn't he been paying attention… now he'd put his ship in danger. Things were happening… something awful. He found himself flying through the air in a torrent of flames and splinter that stung like a thousand needles all at once then as he hit the waters, just before everything went black he heard the explosion that ruined his dream.

  Standing on deck, Neptune 's officers watched unbelieving at the ruthless barrage of cannon fire pouring into the tiny ship. The flashing orange tongues seem to leap out from the seemingly peaceful mangrove trees. The Barracuda had been lying in wait and the lugger had been the bait. Knight could see the waterspouts bursting all around the Pigeon as the cannon's flames spit forth from the hidden ship.

  "Mr. Brooks?"

  "Aye, aye captain."

  "Beat to quarters and signal Swan, though damme I hope Markham is faster responding than I've been." Markham on board Swan had heard and seen the onslaught of cannon fire that tore into the helpless ketch.

  Using his glass as Swan closed with the Keys, Markham could see men running frantically about with gesturing arms.

  Some
were hacking away at the downed mast and spar, while others were gallantly firing Pigeon's popguns at the ghost ship that was so entwined with the trees and vegetation she was not even clearly visible. Meanwhile, Neptune was closely approaching the scene. Knight had

  ordered the bow chasers to open fire as soon as they were in range. The boom of the bow chaser was quickly answered by a cry from the lookout.

  "Last shot was over Pigeon but the enemy ship is showing 'er heels."

  The forward guns continued to fire and the lookout called down again, "A 'it by gawd. The last ball sent splinters a flying as we pounded one up 'er arse." The master was now in front of Knight, "We're to close, captain. We need to anchor now and send in boats. I can see weeds off to larboard."

  "Very well," Knight replied. "Heave to. There has to be a channel, possibly one that continues to the other side, where the cutthroat is escaping."

  "However, we'll heave to and render what help we can," Knight said with defeat in his voice.

  Before they could get the boats in the water Swan was alongside, Markham joined Knight in his gig as they rowed toward the helpless ship. As they got close the cries of pain and anguish could be heard.

  Mr. Davy who was standing in the bow of a longboat that was alongside Knight's gig spoke out, "She's on a sandbar. That's why she hasn't sunk."

  Davy was right. Pigeon had come to rest on a sandbar having been leered into position where the Barracuda had been silently waiting. Markham 's knuckles turned white as he grasped the side of the gig. Knight sat across from Markham trying to shut out the human agony that confronted him. His recent bout with the privateer's attack at Saint Augustine all too fresh in his memory not to feel the hell the crew on Pigeon must be feeling.

  Men's bodies were so badly mutilated it was hard to realize they had once been human. A sailor grabbed a rope that was heaved by the bowman. As he stood the sight of his breeches spattered with blood and gore made the bowman retch."Don't worry," cried the sailor. "I t ain't mine!" The chorus of cries and groans on board as men stumbled about was heart wrenching. Men were lying with open mouths and open dead eyes. A man seemed to shudder then slumped forward. Mr. Davy pulled at the man who fell back half his face gone, the other half covered in dark congealed blood.