by Michael Aye
Lieutenant Davy had not wasted his time after sailing out of the Danish harbour. By the time he reported aboard the flagship, he had made a fair inventory and inspection. “She is, in all aspects except for water, ready for sea,” he reported with a boyish grin on his face.
The presence of a British surgeon at the fort had been fortuitous; he could be assigned as Trident’s surgeon. Gabe would talk with the man after Lord Skalla had finished interviewing him about the incident in which HMS Foxfire had been taken and her captain killed…possibly murdered by one of the ship’s own crew.
Norton, the Foxfire’s first lieutenant, was one of those the doctor had been caring for in the small sick quarters at the fort. He’d tried to put up a fight when the merchant ship was taken. Hopefully, he’d survive. Most of the freed prisoners would be entered into the books on the ships in Admiral Buck’s squadron. Those merchant seamen with certificates of immunity would be given passage back to England at some point.
After most of the business had been completed, Gabe sat finishing off the last of his wine when Admiral Buck spoke, “Gabe, I’m speaking to you as a friend and not as my flag captain.” Surprised, Gabe nodded his understanding. Buck continued, “I remember when little Midshipman Davy reported aboard Drakkar looking like a drowned rat, but ready to fight at the drop of a hat. He’s come a long way since then.” Gabe continued to listen without interrupting; sure that he knew where this was going. “I’m tempted to put Davy in charge of his prize and recommend his Lordship confirms the appointment. My only question is what about Mr. Wiley?” The admiral then motioned for Chen Lee to fill their glasses and leaned back, letting Gabe catch his thoughts.
“As your friend, I think Mr. Davy is the right choice. As his captain, he has more than proved himself capable and I will support your decision whole-heartedly. Mr. Wiley is senior and is a good officer but lacks the experience Lieutenant Davy has gained these last four years or so. Battling the elements and the Americans, Lieutenant Davy showed initiative, sir. Seeing the schooner was ripe for the taking, he decided to take her. I don’t think Lieutenant Wiley would have acted so quickly and decisively. He will make a good captain soon. Mr. Davy is ready now.”
“Aye,” Buck said, leaning forward to take a pull from the recharged glass. “Our thoughts are one and the same.”
A knock at the door interrupted the conversation as the marine sentry announced, “Lord Skalla, sir.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Gabe watched as the little schooner, Tomahawk, disappeared from sight. Lieutenant Davy now had his own command. Gabe had little doubt his brother would confirm the appointment. Davy was to escort the merchantman back to Barbados with all dispatch. Lord Skalla was a passenger, so Davy had little to worry about in regards to the merchantman’s captain grumbling about being pushed along so. When Admiral Buck had spoken with the man, he quickly reminded the fellow he could still be in the Danes dungeon at the fort.
Lord Skalla had found out by interviewing several of the prisoners that the American privateers were to join a French squadron under French Admiral Suffren to prey upon British shipping as they traveled from the Indian Ocean back to England. The intelligence suggested the French would send out scouts from Ile de France. The American privateers would be based on a small island off Madagascar known as St. Mary’s by the English and Ile Sainte-Marie by the French.
The Indian Ocean was a vital route for the British economy. East India Company ships sailed from China, India, and Arabia loaded down with millions of pounds worth of trade goods. The loss of these ships would devastate the British economy.
Lord Skalla had been most convincing, “I know your orders were to the Southern Colonies, Admiral, but we must act now. Time is not on our side.”
Now Lord Skalla sailed with Lieutenant Davy to make sure Lord Anthony and England were made aware of this very real threat. As Davy and Tomahawk vanished over the horizon, so did Gabe’s hope of making things right with Faith. He had given a letter to Davy who’d promised to deliver it personally.
“Marry Ariel first chance you get while I have Dagan occupied,” Gabe had joked.
“He’s already given his blessing,” Davy responded. “But we’ll wait until you return.”
As the two shook hands at the entry port, Davy fought back emotion. “I never would have made it without you, Gabe. You and Dagan, that is. Now this, my first ship. The admiral told me you had given your strongest recommendation.”
“You’ve earned it,” Gabe replied, his voice cracking with emotion. “Now be off with you.”
Davy paused once more before starting down the battens into the waiting boat. “Take care of yourself, Captain, and God speed.”
“To you as well, Captain Davy,” Gabe replied.
Hex broke Gabe’s reverie when he spoke. “He’ll be fine, Captain.”
“It is not Lieutenant Davy I’m worried about, Jake.”
“I know, Captain…it’s time for your talk with the new doctor,” Hex reminded his captain.
“Thank you,” Gabe replied absently, taking one more look at the empty horizon before turning away.
“Got a lot on his mind,” Hex volunteered as Dagan walked up.
“Damnable war,” Dagan cursed as he ducked down, almost colliding with Mr. Sebastian, the signals midshipman, who was returning flags to their locker.
“My apologies,” the youth blurted out.
“On with you, youngster,” Dagan replied as he lit his pipe. He was rewarded with a glow from the pipe bowl. Sending the smell of aromatic smoke into the air, Dagan rose up and spoke to his friend, “Faith will see the error of her ways, given time. I just hope Gabe’s mind is on his business when the fighting comes.”
“We’re in for a row then,” Hex stated.
“Aye, Jake, a big one if my feelings are right.” Hex sighed; he’d not known Dagan to be wrong yet. Seeing Hex’s despair, Dagan smiled, “No need to worry, Jake. A Frenchie’s ball is no different than that of a jealous husband.”
“Aye, but there’s a mite of enjoyment that usually comes along before the jealous husband,” Jake replied.
***
Midshipman Brayden tapped on the door of Gabe’s cabin. “Mr. Campbell’s respects, sir, and we have sighted several sails on the horizon.”
Gabe had heard the cry of “sail ho” but was determined not to rush on deck. He wondered if Buck had found enough to keep him in his cabin or if his curiosity were too great to control and he would find a reason to go for a look.
The youth continued to stand so Gabe prompted, “Is there more?”
“Looks like a whole company of ‘Honest Johns’,” the boy blurted. “Ere, that’s what Mr. Campbell thinks, sir.”
“Very well, tell the first lieutenant I will be up directly.”
“Aye, sir, directly it is.”
It was a full ten days since the squadron had set sail in search of the French and American privateers. A single sail had been spotted. The wind had been contrary at times, making the master, David Hayes, question his recollection of the trade winds from the Caribbean to the coast of Africa. The course lay south-by-southeast toward Africa. And then following the coast of Africa, around the Cape of Good Hope they’d sail to Madagascar, which lay approximately two hundred fifty miles off the eastern coast of Africa.
The privateers were said to have their main base at St. Mary’s or Ranter Bay, both of which were on the northeastern side of the island. Ranter Bay was an enclave of the main island, while St. Mary’s lay about five miles off Madagascar. In the 1720’s, pirates preyed on Britain’s East India Company ships, using the same island for bases, so what the French and Americans were attempting was not something new. The British navy had dealt with the problem then and would do so again. The question was how much help Admiral Buck’s small squadron of ships would be given, if any, and could the problem be dealt with before the British were bankrupt?
“It’s the pirate round revisited,” Hayes stated.
“You were
there back then?” Midshipman Caed had asked in all innocence, hearing the master talk about the pirates in their heyday. This brought a chuckle from all.
“Not even our master was around back then,” Lieutenant Wiley chided.
Admiral Buck had the squadron change tack to intercept the East Indiamen. The captain of the escorting frigate seemed glad to have a diversion from the monotony of convoy duty. Taking advantage of Gabe’s offer of refreshments, the captain went aboard Trident and enjoyed a wet with Gabe and Admiral Buck.
“No, I’ve not heard of the combined French and American forces but am not surprised to hear it,” the captain said to Gabe and Buck.
They’d had a small warship, likely a French corvette, follow them for a day after they rounded Cape of Good Hope. During the night the ship must have come about, as it was nowhere to be seen at dawn. The convoy was scheduled to lay over at Barbados, taking on water and supplies. They’d then use the trade winds to sail north until they hit the westerly winds. A voyage Gabe had made several times. I’d like to make the first leg of it now, he thought. The captain agreed to carry a few personal letters to Barbados along with Buck’s dispatches.
That night, Gabe dined with the admiral as usual. The skylight was open and a faint zephyr stirred. The sky was cloudless and the stars were bright with a full moon shining down, lighting up the main deck and reflecting off the smooth sea. Dr. Cornish had also been invited to dine that evening, and upon hearing the shanties and music being played on deck remarked at how pleasant it was to sail on a happy ship.
Gabe noticed that the admiral had not eaten all of his noodles. “Damn Chinaman,” Buck snorted. “Chen Lee is a great little servant, but thinks every meal has to have noodles or rice. Some of his concoctions are so blame hot and spicy, sweat breaks out on my head before I can eat it.”
“Well, don’t eat it,” Cornish replied.
“There lays the problem,” Buck countered. “It’s too damn tasty to let set.”
“Well damme,” Gabe declared with a chuckle.
Cigars were brought out and each of the men was given a splash of bourbon. Topside, the music changed.
“That’s Hex’s mandolin,” Gabe announced.
“A talented musician,” Cornish said, after listening for a minute. The three had stopped talking as Hex played.
“That and more,” Gabe said acknowledging the doctor’s comments.
After a couple of up-tempo shanties, the tempo slowed and Hex began to sing:
Baby, come to me while I’m in Portsmouth
The ships gonna be here a month or so
We can get us a room over a tavern
And love away the hours, while I’m ashore
Baby, come to me.
She said you’re the only man I’ve ever loved
But a sailor’s life is just too hard to live
All the sea does is take away…and
I have given all I have to give
Baby, come to me.
Baby come to me as the snow falls
We’d move up so high you can’t see the sea
You can build us a little cabin
And every night you can make love to me
Baby, come to me.
He said I’d love to be with you in the mountains
But the sea is the only life I’ve ever known
Now it’s time for us to weigh anchor
By the time you get this letter I’ll be gone
I wish you’d come to me…
She cried I wish you’d come to me.
“I say that boy is too talented for the sea,” Cornish stated after finishing off his drink.
“Nay,” Buck replied. “He’s too good not to be at sea.”
“I don’t know what I’d do if he wasn’t,” Gabe said as he stood and left without saying goodnight.
“Our captain is in a bad way,” Cornish said. He then added, “Speaking professionally of course.”
“Aye,” Buck’s voice was hardly above a whisper, “I’ve known him since he was a young middy, and I’ve never seen him like this. Dagan says there are brighter days ahead, though.”
“Admiral,” Cornish said, “would I be imposing if I asked you to tell me about Dagan? I can hardly believe the whispers I hear.”
Buck rose and a smile lit up his face, “Chen Lee…recharge our glasses please.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Cap’n…cap’n, wake up cap’n.”
“Hex.”
“Aye, cap’n.”
“What is it, Hex?”
“The lookout has spied a light in the water, sir. He’s not sure if it is a boat or what. Says it’s too low down in the water to be a ship, even a small one.”
Rising up, Gabe could hear the normal sounds of a ship: the sound of water sluicing by the rudder, the groan of the timbers, and the occasional slap of a wave against the hull. How long had he been asleep? Only minutes it felt like. After putting on his britches, Gabe leaned over to put on his boots. As he did so, he felt a pain in his upper stomach and a burning sour taste as bile came up in his mouth. Chen Lee’s dinner, he thought. What was it Buck had said? Damn tasty but hard on the digestion. With nowhere to spit, Gabe swallowed, which caused him to cough.
Finally he wheezed out, “Give me something to drink, Hex.” He could hear his cox’n fumbling around and the clink of glass on glass.
“Here is a bit of something, sir.”
Gabe took note of the “of something”. Hex had grabbed the first decanter he’d found in the semi-darkness. The only light in the cabin was the one lantern that Hex had set down on the small table beside Gabe’s cot. Brandy, Gabe thought as he took a big swallow. Well, that beat the sour taste that had filled his mouth and burned so.
Stepping over the coaming and out onto the deck, Gabe could feel a cool breeze. It was a full moon, and so the deck was lit up well. Lieutenant Wiley must have the watch, as he was telling the first lieutenant he’d sent Midshipman Michael to the tops to see if he could make out whatever it was the lookout had spotted.
“Seaman Rogers has a keen eye,” Wiley was explaining, “but his descriptive ability is thin as a sailor’s purse after a night on shore.”
This made Gabe chuckle, which alerted the men around the wheel that the captain was on deck. “Captain,” the group greeted in unison.
“We are waiting on Mr. Michael’s report, are we not?” Gabe asked after nodding his greeting.
Hayes quickly advised, “We are south-southeast with a steady wind, sir, almost directly astern.”
Before Gabe could thank the master, they heard a thump as Michael hit the deck harder than planned.
“I bet his hands are burning,” Campbell volunteered.
Michael had taken the faster route down to the deck by sliding down a backstay. Indeed, he was blowing on his palms as he approached the wheel.
“You break that glass, young sir, and you’ll spend the rest of the voyage in the tops,” said Campbell, but his voice held no real threat. It was just his way of telling Michael to be careful. Looking up from his palms, Michael was smiling until he saw the captain.
When the youth didn’t speak, Gabe asked, “Are we to wait until surgeon sees to your hands, or are you able to report now?”
“Sorry sir, it’s much as the lookout says. A light, sir. Must be a lantern tied up high on a small boat. You can see it and then it disappears. Kind of like a cork on a fishing line when you are getting a nibble.”
“Damme, sir,” Wiley snorted. “But that is as useless a description as I’ve heard.”
“No, not really,” Gabe said, saving the mid’s pride, “a small boat, say a longboat, adrift with a lantern lashed to an oar. It’s somebody’s attempt to bring attention to themselves. Fire off a flare, Mr. Campbell. If it’s a boat as I imagine, and if there are people still alive in the boat it will give them encouragement. Mr. Michael.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Good description. Now be so kind as to wake the admiral. Give him my
compliments and tell him about our…er nibble.”
“Aye, Captain,” a smiling Michael replied as he turned to do as ordered.
Light was visble through the open skylight, so Gabe was sure the admiral was already awake and dressed, waiting to be alerted. Would he have the patience to wait below, Gabe wondered? A flash and suddenly the sky was bright as the flare was set off. That should let those in the boat know they’d been spotted. Those on watch on the other ships in the squadron as well. A smile came to Gabe as he thought of all the captains being rousted out by the sight of the flare.
“That will wake a few.” This was from Dagan.
“I didn’t know you were awake,” Gabe said.
“Aye, had the feeling something was amiss.”
“Amiss!?” It was the admiral.
Gabe quickly explained their sighting and added that whatever it was…wasn’t yet visible from the deck.
Off to the side, Hex was speaking to Dagan and Crowe, the admiral’s cox’n, “Wouldn’t it be great if we could come up with the ability to communicate better with other ships at night? Better than the limited system we have now.”
Overhearing the conversation, Buck said, “What was that, Hex?”
“I was saying, sir, it would be nice to set-up a system to communicate with the other ships even if we had to use colored lanterns to do so.”
Crowe then joined the conversation, “Sort of like we did in Deal.”
“I want to hear about this,” Buck said. “Let’s go below. Captain, if your duties allow it you may want to hear this.”
“Aye, sir,” Gabe replied.
Quite possibly these two smugglers were about to reveal a trick or two. They were well organized and rarely caught. If they were, it was usually due to bad luck or a tip by a competitor out to get them.
Turning to Lieutenant Campbell and Lieutenant Wiley, Gabe spoke, “Send for me once we get a better idea of what our light is.” With that, Gabe went thru the companionway into the admiral’s cabin, passing a sleepy looking sentry.
