Pistoleer: HellBurner

by Smith, Skye

  "Of course it is a treaty thing,” Ham replied. "Well, I suppose I should go and find a ship to take me back to Sweden to make my dismal report. I can take the latest batch of Jock's locks back with me, so at least something positive will come out of all my efforts."

  "To Sweden, not to Edinburgh?"

  "To Sweden first, and then perhaps to Edinburgh."

  "I'll make you a deal, Ham,” Daniel lowered his voice to a whisper. "Sail with me to Scotland. If you give the Jocklocks to your general, I will give him my Matchlocks."

  "Danny, you can't do that,” Anso hissed. "We haven't been paid our profit yet. That is on delivery, remember?" Daniel began to argue with him.

  Ham shushed them both while he thought. "Payment was on delivery to Musselburgh, right? That is an hour's ride from Edinburgh. You have a deal, Daniel. While you are unloading the matchlocks at Musselburgh, I will be visiting some friends close by. I have a plan. A trickster's plan, for sure, but a plan. If it works, then you will have your last payment, and Leslie's army will have the matchlocks, and some of them will have been converted to snap-locks."

  "But won't that finish your career in Sweden?" Anso asked.

  "Pah, I will send them my report through their ambassador, and as for a few missing Jocklocks, they are nothing compared to the original samples I took them that showed the design. If they are impatient for them they can make them in Sweden."

  "But Jock will lose the order. He and his men were counting on it."

  "I've just authorized payment to him for a thousand more. So long as he keeps shipping them to Sweden, he will have the income. Do you think the Swedes would begrudge Alex Leslie a few hundred of them? Ace Leslie who has led their army to victory after victory? Nay, we have a deal, a very good deal, but first I must report to the Swedish Ambassador, and then gather my things. I'll meet you at the Freisburn."

  Once Ham was out the door of the teahouse, Anso said, "I like that Scot. He must have Frisian blood somewhere in his past. Hard to believe he is an artillery gunner, though."

  "Why?"

  "Because he can still hear."

  * * * * *

  The ever-growing presence of the Dutch fluyts on the North Sea was taking business away from small shipowners everywhere, and yet Daniel had to admire the cunning design of The Kameel. Well, not cunning so much as simplified and focused. It was a cargo ship, nothing more and nothing less. It could never be used as a ship of war because its planking was too thin and light. And light was the magic word.

  For every ton of battle readiness of hull and frame and gun decks and guns that she did not have, she could carry another ton of paying cargo. Mainly due to her flattish bottom, she floated high enough to reach the shallow ports that had once been the exclusive domain of smaller ships. Seen from the stern she was pear-shaped like a pregnant woman, which meant that she had little more main deck than a smaller ship of half her girth. This was important when docking fees and port taxes were based on deck size, not tonnage.

  Her two main masts were tall, so that she carried two main sails on each, one above the other. This allowed her to catch the winds that had lifted above the surface of the water, as they were wont to do around heads of land. The sails of her two minor masts, one at a low slope above the bow, and the other behind the wheel, were meant as aids to steering her rather than power to push her. It was these small sails, for and aft, that gave her gentle maneuverability in tight ports.

  She was not equipped for passengers, so the one cabin under the steering castle was for all the crew and officers. Not that she had many crew, as she had no oars. The Kameel carried twelve, including the master. With such small crews and no oars, the fluyts had changed the way that ports worked. Now there were tugs in every port, and willing hands on every quay, and longshoremen to load and unload the cargos. The small crew sailed the ship on the sea, while shoremen took care of her in port.

  Her only ordinance against pirates was muskets and swivel guns, for in any cannon fight she would surely be sunk due to her light hull. This meant that she could repel any amateur coastal pirates that tried to board her, but against privateers with cannons she had only two choices. Run or surrender. Since both cargo and ship were bonded, most masters were quick to surrender. Yes, they might lose their cargo, but chances were good that they and their crews would survive to sail the ship home. Privateers had no use for ships that could not be used as fighting vessels.

  Despite wobbling in the water like a fat woman on a dance floor, the Kameel was surprisingly light on her feet, as were any fat women who enjoyed dancing. It was not unknown for fluyts to run from privateers rather than surrender, but that depended on the wind and the bottom. Her tall masts could catch more winds than the shorter masts of privateer ships. She could also cross shallows where privateers would run aground.

  She was a grand ship, well worthy of praise, but comparing her to the Freisburn was like comparing an overfed farm goose to a wild goose. At close to eighty feet she was almost twice the length of the Freisburn, and at least twice as wide. Despite the advantage of length, in most winds the Freisburn was faster, and when she wasn't she could run out her oars to help the wind.

  As they left the great delta of the Rhine river, the Freisburn sailed ahead and to the south of the Kameel so that if Dunkirker privateers were on patrol, the Freisburn would be between them and their prey.

  "And just what do you expect us to do if we do sight a Dunkirker, Danny?" Anso asked quietly while the two of them took turns on the tiller.

  "Slow them down to give the Kameel a chance to make a run for it."

  "You mean slow them down as in, let them blow us out of the water?"

  "We have no cargo, Anso, and we have a dozen oarsmen, more if everyone lends a hand. That makes us agile and fleet." It was all bravado of course, for they could do nothing against a Dunkirker galliot, the half-galleys built by the Barbary pirates of Africa. When the Dunkirkers invented the frigate, they replaced most of their galliots because the frigates made better cannon platforms for fighting the Dutch Navy, but they still had enough galliots left to harry Dutch coastal ships.

  The galliots were low-slung ships with lateen sails as well as banks of oars. The lateen sail was the best rig for sailing close to the wind, while oars were the best rig for sailing into the wind. With her triangle sails, and every spare man on the oars, a galliot could outpace any ship. Their only weakness was that they were too light and had too little deck space to use them as cannon platforms, which meant that they chased cargo ships, not naval ships, and took them by boarding, not by cannonade.

  In other words, a galliot could out-sail, out-run, and out-maneuver the Freisburn, but worse, they carried huge crews of warriors for boarding other ships. Whenever the Freisburn sailed in the southern waters of the Netherlands, every eye scanned the horizon for the telltale triangular sails of floating doom.

  "Sails to the south," came the call from the bow watch.

  Daniel's spirits dropped and he ran to the port gunnels and scanned for the sails. "Are they lateen rigged?" he called forward. Everyman aboard was now staring towards the sails. Daniel went back to the tiller and waited for more bad news.

  "They are too far south to bother us,” Anso told him. "So long as we sail north a ways before we cross the sea."

  "Well, there goes the Kameel's plan of crossing right away to England and then sailing up her east coast. Cut her off so I can tell her to change course." He picked up his hailing trumpet and walked over to the starboard gunnels to wait until they were within hailing range.

  The master of the Kameel hailed him first to ask what the problem was.

  "Dunkirker frigates to the south. We should go further north before crossing,” Daniel called back.

  "Niet, dis is Admiral Tromp's fleet blockading Zeebrugge. We'll not be bothered by Dunkirkers today. Keep to my course."

  "Well, if he knew that,” Anso complained, "he could have told us in port. I've been worried half sick."

  Their cou
rse took them wide to the north of the Thames estuary. The Kameel kept changing its course to make use of the changing winds, but the Freisburn stayed close by. Closer still after dark, for they did not want to lose sight of her. Morning broke just off Lowestoft and the Kameel settled her sails to use the offshore winds to run up the coast.

  Now the Freisburn placed herself between the fluyt and the shore, for now the worry was pirates of opportunity. Local lads who would board an unwary ship given half the chance. Nasty sods, because to get away with it meant leaving no witnesses. Drown the crew, land the cargo, wreck the ship.

  As they crossed the mouth of the Wash, the Freisburn hailed a local ship and asked them to take some messages to their village. Mostly what the messages said was, 'Back in England, sailing to Scotland, see you soon, miss you.'

  North of the Wash they doubled the bow watch, that is, to two, for the lonely coastline of Lincolnshire was almost as bad for coastal pirates as was the lonely coastline of Yorkshire. Twice it happened that a group of fishing boats took too keen an interest in the Kameel, and not nearly enough interest in their nets. Both times the Freisburn charged them and Daniel wiggled one of his new swivel guns at them. Both times they got the message and swung their boats around to go back to their nets.

  Six days and five nights after leaving Rotterdam, they saw the light on Bass Rock which marked the entrance to the Firth of Forth. To the crew of the Kameel this was nothing remarkable. Rotterdam to Edinburgh was their regular run twice a month. During such a long voyage, the Kameel had a spacious enough cabin that they could get out of the weather and sleep in comfort between watches.

  To the crew of the Freisburn, seeing Bass Rock was worth a cheer. Not because they rarely traded as far north as Edinburgh, but because the Freisburn was mostly an open boat, and the one cramped cabin under the aft castle could not sleep them all. Six days is a long trip in an open boat, and even their passenger, Ham, had run out of stories to wile away the hours.

  Ham did not join in the cheer. He was a Scot and he knew the full story of this desolate rock. It was a prison, a deadly prison, where enemies of the Stuarts had been kept, especially religious enemies. Instead he removed his hat and stood to attention. Nothing like a dour Scot to wreck a rousing cheer.

  When they reached the mouth of the River Esk, Daniel hailed the Kameel and told them to anchor and not approach the Musselburgh quay until he had fetched the folk from Dalkeith Palace to take possession of the cargo. Since the cargo was muskets, the master was quick to agree. The Freisburn tied up at the river quay and Daniel and Ham went to see about renting horses.

  "How much time will you need to find your friends?" Daniel asked.

  "An hour to find them and an hour to get back here and another hour just in case,” Ham said as he checked the saddle straps on the rented nag.

  "Well, I'll hold off sending a message to the palace, then. When you come back take care not to show yourself until the bill of lading is signed off, and the Kameel is on her way to Edinburgh. And don't worry about being a bit late. I'm sure we can delay the cargo from being taken to the palace until you arrive."

  With that, Ham mounted, turned the horse towards the High Street that led to Edinburgh, and was away. Daniel sauntered back towards the quay to where the village women were now crowding around the crew trying to sell them fish pies. "Only buy the ones that are still hot,” he yelled to them. The last thing he needed right now was a sick crew.

  After about two hours, the master of the Kameel came ashore in a small boat to see what the holdup was. On first seeing him rowing towards shore, and seeing as he did not want to lie to the man, Daniel sent two of the local layabouts to take a message to Dalkeith Palace, and paid them in advance, hoping that they would get no further than the cheapest alehouse. Thus it was that when the master stepped onto the Quay, Daniel told him that messages had been sent to the palace, but no one from the palace had arrived as yet.

  Being a generous man, the master sent his boat back to the Kameel carrying fish pies for all aboard. Cold ones of course, for they were half the price. Meanwhile he joined Daniel in savouring a piping hot one. Only Daniel was surprised that less than an hour later John Stewart rode up leading a dozen other riders, all armed. His layabouts must not have been swayed from their mission by ale, which could only mean that the ale in Musselburgh must be horrid.

  "Mr. Stewart, sir,” Daniel called him over. "The ship is anchored off the river, but the tide is low. We can still unload your cargo if we use my ship as a tender."

  "Mr. Vanderus, I did not expect to see you here,” Stewart replied.

  "I am here guarding your cargo, sir. In Holland we were hearing disturbing stories about Scotland. No one will be gladder than I to have your men guarding it rather than mine."

  "Can we begin unloading, sir?" the master interrupted. "I would like to drop my other cargo in Edinburgh before dark."

  "Aye,” Daniel added. "Let's get on with it. Even if we overload my ship it will take us two trips to bring them ashore." He didn't wait for confirmation before he was yelling orders to his crew. The sooner the muskets were ashore, the sooner the bill of lading would be signed. Once it was signed off, his contract with Stewart would be complete and he could return to Rotterdam to claim the last payment from the banker.

  The old muskets did not rate wooden crates, and instead were bundled by the dozen and wrapped in duek sail cloth. A dozen was about a hundred pounds. With Stewart's men guarding the quay, Daniel's crew carried the first shipload ashore on their shoulders. Stewart, meanwhile, was opening random bundles to check count and quality. He had no complaints. Daniel's men had done a good job of fixing them up in Rotown.

  When the last bundle was lifted onto the pile on the quay, Stewart said, "I counted forty bundles."

  "Aye, and another forty or so yet to come,” Daniel said with a smile. He was already feeling relieved. "Why don't you two go back to the Kameel with the Freisburn and do the count as they go from ship to ship? In that way you can sign off on the cargo and the Kameel can be sooner on its way." He gestured for the master and Stewart to walk towards the gangplank. Just as he was to step aboard, Stewart seemed to have second thoughts, but the master's pleading urged him aboard.

  Within the hour the Freisburn was back quayside, the Kameel was on her way, and Stewart was again on the quay with his men. Daniel now felt completely relieved. He had a signed and witnessed copy of the bill in his purse. Now he didn't care what happened to these muskets. They were no longer his problem.

  Stewart and one of his men walked over and stopped the crew from unloading the ship. "Mr. Vanderus, my man thinks that your ship will be able to float the cargo up river and much closer to Dalkeith if we just wait for high tide. Would you be agreeable to that? He says that the tide should be high enough within two hours and that the flow will carry you up with little effort."

  "Aye,” Daniel said looking upriver, "well, if you say so. I don't know this river, myself. Meanwhile, do you have carts and guards enough to start moving what is already on the quay?"

  "Ah, well, there is a shortage of carts at the moment. They have all been commandeered to move supplies towards the Tweed River, you know, the English border. That is why ..." Stewarts words were rudely interrupted by the sounds of horseshoes, a lot of horseshoes, ringing on the village cobbles.

  "Trouble!" Daniel hissed at Stewart and then ran towards the closest line that held the ship fast to the quay. "I'm taking my ship closer to the river mouth until you find out what this is all about." His crew had anticipated the move, and some were releasing the other lines, while others were pushing the ship away from the quay so that they could run some oars out.

  Stewart's men were definitely outnumbered by the horsemen that spilled out of the closest village street, and the horsemen did not look friendly. "Don't bother turning,” Daniel called out at he leaped up the stairs to reach the tiller. "Back her out." He grabbed hold of the tiller with both hands and it took all his strength to hold it straigh
t as the ship began to move backwards. Anso left him to it, while he went to fetch his bow and quiver from the cabin. Others of the crew already had arrows nocked.

  When delivering guns, it was always prudent to be prepared for anything. The swivel guns were already loaded, as was every pistol and blunderbuss. Daniel handed off the tiller to the lad Peter and told him to keep it straight, else the pressure of the water against the backing rudder would rip the tiller out of his hands. Once Peter's body was braced, he went to stand by the starboard swivel gun where he could better see what was happening ashore.

  Nothing was happening. It seemed to be a standoff. A call from Peter made him look up the high street. More horsemen were on their way to join the ones in the standoff. The ship was now well away from the quay, and no one seemed to be following them along the bank, so Daniel ordered the oarsmen to turn her about. The bay would be a much safer place to wait this out than this narrow river.

  When they reached the mouth of the Esk, he saw two things that made him smile. The first was the Kameel with all sails set making for Edinburgh. The other was a horse standing in two feet of water on a sand bank, carrying a friend. "Ham, what is happening?"

  "The Campbell clan were a bit upset when I told them that John Stewart was taking delivery of a thousand muskets today. They've come to talk to him about it."

  "We've still got five hundred aboard,” Daniel called back, "and your three hundred Jocklocks."

  "Then I'll ask a favour of you, Danny,” Ham replied. "Could you sail them south towards the border and drop them off somewhere along the coast?"

  "So that Stewart can't have them?"

  "So that neither Stewart nor the Campbells can have them. I want my general, Ace Leslie, to have them and I don't trust the Campbells to give them up. Can you do that for me, Daniel?"

  Daniel looked around at his crew. They all liked Ham. "Why not?" Anso spoke for the rest. "It's on our way home."

  "Where do you want them delivered?"