by Dudley Pope
Damn, his arm was beginning to hurt. He looked down and was startled to see his sleeve soggy with blood. Well, the hand, although stiffening up, still worked so it could only be a flesh wound. Aurelia would soon have it cleaned up when he got back on board the Griffin.
Right, now to check up on what’s happening. Two merchant ships burning from the fireships and – he ducked as a great flash preceded the rumbling roar of the frigate exploding: the masts collapsed like falling trees and curved into the water, trailing yards and sails; great wooden deck beams and hull frames flew slowly into the air in wide arcs before splashing down into the sea. In a matter of moments what had been a ship was changed to a ring of boiling water in which a scattering of wreckage bobbed about. There was no sign of life; Ned had grabbed a perspective glass from a drawer, but could not see a man swimming or clinging to wreckage.
He then looked astern, inspecting the ships with the glass. Yes, the next nearest merchant ship, and the one beyond, attacked by the Peleus and Phoenix, had obviously surrendered: there was little or no movement on deck. There was still fighting on the next ship – which would be the sixth – but the seventh seemed to have surrendered. There was still a lot of movement on the deck of the eighth, but the ninth seemed quiet – yes, he could see men climbing back over the bulwarks into the buccaneer ships.
Ned turned to Lobb and said: “Send the prisoners and wounded on board the Griffin. Have the carpenter inspect this ship, and then you can select a prize crew. I’m going back on board the Griffin: I’d better get this tied up–” he held up his arm “–and I want to talk to the fireship men. That was quite a bang when the frigate went up. Didn’t take long for the flames to reach her magazine.”
“My ears are still ringing,” Lobb said ruefully. “By the way, the fort will soon be shooting at all of us.”
“We can cut our cables if they get too close,” Ned said. “But I doubt if those gunners get much practice.”
Ned found it hard to climb back on board the Griffin: his arm was beginning to stiffen rapidly and it was hard to grip anything with his hand. As soon as Aurelia saw him she insisted that he came down to the saloon to be bandaged.
“What about the other wounded?” Ned protested.
“No one has come back wounded yet,” she said. “You’re the first.”
It had long been the rule among the buccaneers that the wounded were treated in the order in which they presented themselves, so Ned went down to the saloon, where Aurelia had roughly cut bandages and basins of water already set out on the table.
She slit the cloth of his sleeve, washed away the blood from the wound, and commented: “You were very lucky, Ned: another inch and it would have cut the muscle badly.”
With that she began tying a bandage while Ned mumbled: “My fault anyway; I wasn’t looking, and this Don came up where I didn’t see him.”
“The fireships,” Aurelia said. “They did everything you wanted them to?”
“Yes. Have the bosuns come on board?”
“Yes, they’re all here, as excited as small boys who’ve just raided an orchard. I had to laugh: the first thing our bosun asked me when he got on board was whether I heard the frigate blow up. I should think they heard it in Riohacha!”
“I hope you told him that.”
“Oh, I did; I made a fuss of all of them.”
Ned ripped off a bit more of his shirt and said: “I must be getting back on deck. You’ll have plenty of wounded down in a few minutes – some will be Spanish.”
He reached the deck to find Lobb supervising the transfer of the wounded, lowering them from the merchant ship’s higher bulwark down to the Griffin’s deck.
“How many?” Ned asked.
“Five of ours – none badly – and seven Spanish. We had two men killed; the Spanish lost eight.”
Ned caught sight of the three bosuns and went over to congratulate them.
“Cor, you warned us they’d burn quick,” the Griffin’s bosun said. “That wood was dry! And that spirit sprayed all over the place – that helped the flames. But the frigate!”
“Who did that one?”
“I did,” the bosun said proudly. “I reckoned she was the one ship that could cause us trouble – if she’d swung she could have raked you.”
Ned shook him by the hand. “She made quite a bang. If we ever want someone to command a fireship in the future, I’ll come to you!”
Just then he saw a boat approaching with Thomas in it.
Whetstone had a rough bandage tied round his head and his hair was bloodstained. The moment he came on board and saw the bandage round Ned’s arm he bellowed: “Ah, they spitted you too, did they Ned?”
“What happened to you? Bumped your head on a deck beam?”
“I slipped while parrying a cutlass,” Thomas admitted shamefacedly. “It just parted my hair. Diana was anxious to wash and bandage it but I wanted to get over here and see you. What do you reckon?”
Ned took up the perspective glass, examined the last two ships and when he was satisfied there was no more fighting, put the glass back.
“We’ve done the job,” he said. “Two merchant ships burned to the waterline and the frigate blown up. Seven merchant ships captured. Did you have many casualties?”
“None dead, seven wounded. Eleven Dons killed and wounded.”
“We were lucky,” Ned said soberly. “If the Spaniards had embarked the soldiers, we’d have had a hard time.”
“Unless the fireships frightened them, I don’t think we could have done it,” Thomas admitted. “Those damned bulwarks are so high – can you imagine a few hundred soldiers with muskets firing down on us…”
Thomas moved out of the way as some wounded men were carried down to the saloon. “Those bosuns did well with the fireships!”
“Yes, it was lucky they could get far enough to windward to run down on the Spaniards. And burning that frigate was a blessing – she could have caused us a lot of trouble: I must admit I underestimated her.”
Thomas shrugged his shoulders and winced as the movement hurt his head. “Now what – select prize crews? They’ll soon wake up in that fort and it may get hot for us.”
“Yes. We’ll use the three bosuns again – they deserve it. And our three mates. That’s six. Secco’s mate is a good man so he can take the seventh and we’ll need ten seamen in each prize. Ten of mine, you can give up ten and so can Saxby. We’ll need forty more. Well, whichever ships captured them can provide the men.”
Thomas was looking pale, and Ned told him to sit down. He sat on the breech of a gun and admitted: “I feel a bit shaky. Must be this bump on the head.”
Ned called to the three bosuns, who came running across the deck. “Now you’ve lost your ships you’d better take over your new commands.”
The men grinned and Ned said: “Sort them out between you, but you’ll command the fourth, fifth and sixth prizes and take them back to Port Royal. You’ll be getting prize crews from the ships that captured them.”
Then Ned called Lobb. “Take command of our prize. The three bosuns will be commanding three, and I want Secco’s mate for the seventh. And whoever captured them can provide ten men for each ship. Go round and give the orders. We all sail back to Port Royal together, starting at dusk. That is, unless the fort starts troubling us, in which case we’ll sail at once. Watch the Griffin and follow her movements.”
Ned sat down beside Thomas. “I must admit I’m feeling a bit shaky, too. This arm hurts when it hangs down, and it hurts even worse trying to hold it up.”
“You need a sling,” Thomas said. “Here–” he held Ned’s shoulder and ripped off the other sleeve, fashioning it into a sling, tying the knot round Ned’s neck and carefully easing in his arm. “How’s that?”
Ned nodded gratefully. “Feels much better. I might have t
hought of it myself.”
“You’ve had other things to think about. By the way, did you see any survivors from the frigate?”
“Not a soul: I looked with a glass but there was nothing – just wreckage.”
“I saw quite a few men escaping in boats from the two merchant ships that burned,” Thomas said. “A dozen from each, perhaps more. Rowed for the beach as though the devil was after them.”
Ned adjusted the sling on his arm. “How are you feeling now?”
“Just a headache. Feels as though someone is pounding it with a club.” Thomas stood up shakily. “I’ll think I’ll be getting back on board,” he said. “Diana told me this would happen. It’s only a gash, too.”
“It’s not the pain,” Ned said. “I think there must be some shock to the system, and it takes a while to arrive. Don’t forget to get your prize under way!”
Chapter Eighteen
The convoy of ships arrived at Port Royal, changing formation into a long line so that they could tack up the anchorage without risk of collision. The mates and bosuns handled the prizes as well as the other captains.
“I can just imagine how much Lobb is enjoying himself,” Ned said to Aurelia. “Commanding a bigger ship than the Griffin!”
“How is he going to like coming back to us as just the mate?”
“I don’t think he’ll grumble. Sailing that ship with ten men and no mate is hard work. I doubt if he’s had much sleep.”
With that he gave the order to tack, and the Griffin, at the head of the long line of ships, turned in towards the Palisadoes.
“Will you go straight over and tell Sir Harold what’s been going on?”
“No fear!” Ned answered crossly. “He’ll probably start up again about that damned governor and the bishop!”
“Well, at least you can tell him that they – and the mayor of Riohacha – have all been put ashore in Santa Marta, and released politely without any ransom being paid.”
“The buccaneers won’t like that,” Ned said. “The governor was worth fifty or sixty thousand pieces of eight, and the bishop even more, since the Church has plenty of money. That’s more than a hundred thousand pieces of eight we’ve given up, assuming we threw in the mayor for nothing. All to stop that damned Loosely from nagging.”
“Oh come on,” Aurelia chided. “It suited you not to wait in Santa Marta, haggling over ransom.”
“I agree, but we could have held on to them and sent over a flag of truce in a couple of weeks’ time.”
“Well, you’ve got seven good ships out of it, so the buccaneers will not be out of pocket.”
“After he wanted to have the Santa Lucia ransom money, I wouldn’t put it past old Loosely to try to get some of the prize money awarded by the court for these ships.”
“Tow them out and sink them, then,” Aurelia said sweetly. “Get cross with Sir Harold, not me!”
Ned shouted again and the Griffin came round on to the other tack. Then he glared at Aurelia.
“Do you really think I should go running over to old Loosely and tell him what a good boy I’ve been?”
“Yes,” Aurelia said calmly. “It won’t do any harm to show him what a narrow escape he’s had. It’s better you tell him everything than have him hear the story in bits and pieces.”
“You don’t realize how much I detest the man,” Ned complained. “It’s as much as Thomas and I can manage to be civil to him.”
“I got the impression you are rarely civil to him,” Aurelia said drily. “Anyway, I’m sure you don’t detest him any more than he detests you.”
“If only I could be sure of that,” Ned growled.
It took seven tacks for the Griffin to get up to the usual anchorage off the governor’s jetty, and as soon as he had the ship properly anchored and saw the Peleus astern, with a boat being hoisted out, Ned said: “I’m not going over to the governor unless Thomas agrees.”
“You’re behaving like a sulky boy,” Aurelia said, and went below before Ned could think of a suitable reply.
Thomas was wearing the bandage round his head but at a rakish angle when he and Diana came on board the Griffin, but it was obvious to Ned that the wound had been more serious than Thomas had admitted.
Diana pointed to the sling. “And how is your arm?”
“It’s started to heal properly, but aches like the devil without the sling.” He looked across to Thomas. “How’s the head?”
“Healing up slowly. The cut’s in the roots of the hair, and it tugs every time I move my head.”
Diana said: “He’s just realized how often he shakes his head. It doesn’t hurt when he nods.”
“Now’s the time to get him to agree to everything.”
“You’d think so,” Diana said, “but he’s been like the proverbial bear with a sore head. I can’t do anything right.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Thomas growled. “All she can say is, ‘What are you going to tell Sir Harold?’”
Ned groaned. “You’ve been getting it too? I’ve just had an hour of it from Aurelia – who’ll be up on deck in a moment.”
“What are we going to tell him?” Thomas asked.
“Well, he won’t notice that we have seven prizes. I suppose we’d better tell him the whole story, but if he mentions the word ‘pirate’ then I shall walk out, and we can all move to Tortuga – emptying the brothels first.”
Sir Harold was sitting at the table in his office when Hamilton showed them in. Luce was white-faced, his moustaches hung down, and as soon as he saw Ned and Thomas, he leapt to his feet, pointing a quivering finger.
“Where have you all been?” he demanded.
Ned started, shrugged his shoulders, feeling his arm give a twinge, and said casually: “We went on a cruise.”
“Cruise? You went cruising while Jamaica is in terrible danger? Have you no sense of responsibility?”
“Very little,” Ned agreed amiably, “and never on odd days of the month. Why, what’s the matter? You seem uncommonly disturbed.”
“Disturbed!” Luce shouted. “By God, man, the Spanish are coming!”
“Well, I’m blessed,” Ned said calmly. “Coming from where?”
“The Main of course: they’ve collected a big army, put it on board a couple of dozen ships they’ve collected – more in fact – and they are on their way to Jamaica! What do you think about that?”
“Most alarming,” Ned agreed. “When are these ships due here?”
“Any moment!” Luce said excitedly. “You must sail and drive them off!”
“How do you know all this?”
“A fisherman who was doing some smuggling saw the ships in Santa Marta.”
“And he reported to you?”
“Yes, he came straight back to Port Royal and told me what he’d seen. We estimate the ships could be here later today.”
“One of the last things you said,” Ned reminded him, “was that after Santa Lucia was raided we had nothing to fear: that the Spanish would never attack from the Main.”
“I know I did, but I knew nothing about all these ships.”
“Yes, you did, because we told you,” Ned contradicted. “We told you that the Spanish governor we had taken as a hostage had told us about the ships.”
“Ah yes, that governor,” Luce said, his voice still high-pitched with excitement. “Perhaps we can use him as a hostage.”
Ned shook his head. “No, I’m afraid you can’t do that.”
“Why not? These ships will be here any minute, and we’ve no army should they manage to land troops.”
“The ships are already here,” Ned said quietly. “They’re in the anchorage already.”
Luce rubbed his forehead, puzzled. “What on earth do you mean? They haven’t even been sighted yet. I have l
ookouts on Fort Charles, and they haven’t reported seeing anything.”
“They reported the buccaneers returning?”
“Yes, of course: for a while we thought you were the Spaniards.”
“We were,” Ned said drily. “What was left of them, anyway.”
“Oh stop talking in riddles,” Luce said crossly. “The lookouts reported you returning, and here you are. Now we have to prepare to meet the Spanish ships. Don’t be so obtuse, please. We are talking of the safety of the whole of Jamaica.”
Ned sighed and arranged his arm more comfortably in the sling. “Your Excellency,” he said heavily, “you try the patience of lesser men. When we warned you that there was danger from the Main, you sneered at us. That was the last time we saw you. Now, the next time we see you, you are pleading with us to sail and drive off a Spanish fleet coming from the Main.
“Yet,” and Ned said the word as though he was slashing with a knife, “when we tell you that the Spanish ships are already here, you won’t listen, or you pretend not to understand.”
“But I don’t understand,” Luce wailed.
“Your lookouts are not very good,” Ned said. “If they had been keeping a good lookout they would have noticed that there were seven extra ships, and these seven are all larger than the rest of the buccaneer ships. Those seven, plus two burned to the waterline in Santa Marta and a frigate blown up, are the Spanish ships you’re talking about.”
“But where are all the soldiers?”
“Still in tents at Santa Marta, along with their horses and guns.”
It was all too much for Luce: he tugged at his moustaches as though trying to wake himself up, and then rubbed his forehead briskly. “I don’t understand,” he admitted. “How are the Spanish ships here if the troops are still in Santa Marta?”
Ned lifted his right arm and rested it on the table. “You should listen carefully. We understood from the Spanish governor that ships had arrived from Spain, and neither Sir Thomas nor I assumed they had been sent over by some whim of the Spanish King. Eventually, we tricked the Spanish governor into admitting they intended to invade Jamaica–”
