The Time Pirate (45 page)

“Who, then?”

“Pirates.”

“Pirates? This mighty fleet has no fear of pirates, sir. I've a massive number of warships under sail, as you see. We carry five thousand marines. I'll make short shrift of these rogues, have no doubt of that!”

“Under normal circumstances, I should have no doubts, Admiral. But these are not normal circumstances. Captain William Blood, of whom you may have heard, has assembled the greatest pirate armada the world has ever seen. I fear, even at your strength, you will be greatly outnumbered, sir.”

“It is frequently not the number of ships in a battle that spell the difference but a certain stiffness of spine, a keenness of eye, and the well-seasoned brain inside a commander's skull. I've heard tell of this notorious Blood and his exploits. I've no fear of him, I assure you.”

“I wholly concur, sir. But in this case, the numbers will come into play. How many warships in your flotilla, Admiral?”

“As I say, I boast twenty-eight ships of the line, sir,” he said proudly. “And four supporting frigates. Why, my flagship alone, the
Ville de Paris
, carries one hundred eighteen cannon and a crew of nine hundred forty.”

“An insufficient force to go against Blood, I fear.”

“What? Insufficient you say? How many ships has he, this pirate?”

“At least one hundred, and growing daily, sir.”

“One hundred! You cannot possibly be serious!”

“I'm afraid I am, sir. Young Nick here was an eyewitness to the assembly of the pirate armada at Port Royal.”

“You were at Port Royal as well?” the Admiral said to Nick, mystified. “You certainly seem to pop up everywhere, lad. How much does the Marquis pay you? Perhaps you fancy a life at sea.”

Lafayette smiled. “He was there, Admiral, and saw the Armada. I will vouchsafe the truth of his account.”

The admiral looked dumbstruck.

“Good heavens, outnumbered four to one, we'd be decimated,” he finally managed. “All is lost, I fear.”

“Not necessarily.”

“But surely we've no chance against such numbers. If we but knew when or, more importantly, where this villain intends to strike, perhaps I could see some way, but, as it is, I cannot jeopardize my—”

“Ah, but we know both, sir. Precisely when and precisely where Blood lies in wait. With absolute certainty. Please take a look at this chart, most fortuitously stolen from under Cornwallis's prominent nose by my new hero here.”

Nick found himself blushing a bright pink as the Marquis spread the chart out on the Admiral's table and used his fore-finger to point out important locations.

“Have a look, Admiral. You will see that the pirate armada will be lying in wait here, just to the northeast of New Providence Island in the Bahamas. And here, in heavy red ink, is the course Blood believes your fleet intends to sail. Northeast along the northern coastline of Cuba, steering northward just here to catch the Gulf Stream, up through the straits of Florida just west of New Providence Island, and proceeding up the American coast to the Chesapeake Bay. Is that your intention?”

“It is. It's the only possible route. Of course, Blood would assume that.”

“This Black Cross, sir, just to the northeast of Nassau Town on New Providence is exactly where the pirate armada will be on station. He will pounce as soon as you are in the straits, just before you clear New Providence Island.”

The plainly shocked Admiral shook his head and looked at Nick. “You swear you saw this fleet? With your own eyes? One hundred armed pirate ships?”

“I did, sir. At Port Royal, Jamaica.”

“And this handwriting. You know it to be Blood's?”

“I do, sir.”

“How do you come by that knowledge?”

“He sent me a letter once, sir.”

“A letter?”

“A ransom note. He'd kidnapped my dog.”

“Kidnapped your dog?”

“Yes, sir. His name is Jip.”

The admiral put his head in his hands. “So much at stake,” he said, “So much to lose. This will be the bitterest of disappointments to our friend, General Washington.”

The Marquis de Lafayette put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps it need not be, Admiral de Grasse.”

“Why ever not?”

“It seems young Master McIver here has conceived of a plan.”

“Why am I not surprised?” de Grasse said, a hint of a smile in his eyes.

“If there's but one thing I can say about my young aide-de-camp, it's that he is full of surprises,” Lafayette said, laughing.

And so Nick outlined the audacious plan he'd spent many long hours perfecting. He'd spent his whole childhood studying
and re-creating all the great naval battles with his little fleets of wooden ships. Now all that knowledge, he dearly hoped, was about to pay off.

Once de Grasse had absorbed the details of the plan and expressed his support for the action, Lafayette stood, clasped hands behind his back. His face had assumed a grave demeanor. “Admiral, there is one other matter I must discuss with you, one of the utmost importance.”

“Mais certainement.”

“I must insist that our presence aboard your flagship be treated as a matter of utmost secrecy. It is, I would say, a military secret of extraordinary importance to the allies. The entire crew must be sworn to silence upon penalty of death. No one, officers or crew, should ever speak of my involvement in this affair. Nor that of my aide.”

“Granted. No one understands the need for secrecy in times of war more than I. But surely General Washington knows of this?”

“He does not, sir. And for reasons I am not at liberty to discuss, he must never learn of it.”

“Very well. I give you my word, General Lafayette.”

“It is all I require, sir,” said Lafayette, bowing from the waist.

“Will you and young Nicholas join me here for dinner this evening? You'll find my officers' company most amusing.”

“We should be delighted, Admiral.”

L
and ho!” cried the maintop watch from his crow's nest high above the decks of the
Ville de Paris
as New Providence Island hove into view. The call from the top of the mainmast was quickly relayed to Admiral de Grasse and the officers standing on the quarterdeck aft of the helm. The Marquis de Lafayette and his young aide stood leaning against the binnacle, discussing the finer points of the plan of battle. Lafayette's suggestions were all good ones and added mightily to Nick's confidence in the proposed strategy.

De Grasse lifted a spyglass to his eye and surveyed the coastline. “No sign of sail,” he said calmly. “Chance favors us so far.”

They'd been at sea for four days since departing CapFrançois. The winds had been favorable as they sailed northwest sometimes hugging the coast of Cuba, sometimes skirting the thousands of cays and islands of the Bahamas archipelago. They'd reached the southern tip of New Providence a full half day ahead of schedule. This boded well.

“Hoist a signal to all ships of the line,” de Grasse suddenly called out, “Strike colors!”

“Aye-aye, sir!” Lieutenant Valois said, and ordered the bosun's mate to hoist the appropriate signal flag. Upon seeing it, every captain in the entire fleet of twenty-eight French warships would immediately lower the pure white ensign flag of France.

Nick barely suppressed a smile. His heart was pounding with excitement as he saw the first steps of his plan being executed. It was one of those rare moments he lived and breathed for.

The sun was settling on the western horizon, sending red-gold rays streaking across the white-laced wavetops. The sharp tang of briny sea air filled Nick's lungs with the purest joy. The acres of billowing white sail overhead delighted his eyes, filling them with wonder, and touched his heart with the thrill of a boyhood dream come true. He was aboard a great ship once more, plowing through heaving blue seas, sailing into battle.

He was aboard the
Ville de Paris
, the greatest warship on earth. He could see the green smudge on the horizon that would be New Providence Island. The French fleet was rapidly closing in on the enemy, and the mood aboard the
Ville de Paris
was one of eagerness for battle, the roar of cannon, and the smell of black powder. You could see it in the face of every crewman.

Especially the gun crews and the young “powder monkeys,” boys who tirelessly ferried black powder up from below to keep the one hundred or more cannons roaring in the heat of battle. Even a grievous wound or the loss of a limb would not stop these youngest of warriors. They were notoriously fearless. He'd met just such a boy, a boy named Martyn
Hornby, sailing aboard the
Merlin
in the year 1805. Hornby was just his age, and a braver soul he'd never known.

“Hard a'lee!” de Grasse said to his helmsman.

“Hard a'lee, aye!” The man put the great wheel hard over, and the massive warship heeled slightly as she began to carve a turn to port. High in the rigging, the reef-trimmers scrambled to trim their sails for the new course. All were caught by surprise, thinking the ship would set a course nor'west of New Providence to catch the Gulf Stream. They'd done so countless times before. Why go east of the island now?

The French fleet was outnumbered at the very least four to one by Blood's pirate armada. Even the most brilliant naval warrior would be crushed by those overwhelming odds. So, Nick had thought, instead of sailing with the Gulf Stream up the western coast of New Providence, as Blood expected, the French fleet would now sail up the eastern coast of the island.

This strategy of Nick's, as he well knew, was not without problems. Time was of the essence, and this eastern passage would be far slower, wreaking no benefit from the seven knots the northerly flowing Gulf Stream provided. But this new route would give Washington's French allies the one element their very survival depended upon:
Surprise.

“Hoist the
Jolie Rouge
! De Grasse said. “Signal all ships of the line likewise!”

Nick watched the infamous skull and crossbones, the Jolly Roger, rising swiftly on a halyard to the very top of the mainmast. All hands looked upward and cheered at the pirate flag fluttering high above in the evening breeze This ruse had been the Marquis de Lafayette's idea. Any of Blood's masthead lookouts, upon spying the infamous pirate flag, would think the fleet approaching were merely stragglers, pirate ships sailing at the last minute to join the Brethren of Blood's massive armada.

A few minutes later, as the evening shadows stretched across the quarterdeck, the captain barked, “Hoist the signal ‘Douse All Lights.' ”

In the waning moments of sunlight, the signal went up. There was no moon and few stars. Providence was with them on this night. The cover of darkness was essential to Nick's plan. In the dusky light of evening, lanterns everywhere in the fleet were being snuffed out.

The French fleet, twenty-eight towering silhouettes on the rolling black sea, sailed onward through the gathering darkness, northward into the pitch-black night. Soon, within hours, they would approach the unsuspecting enemy armada. And approach them from precisely where they were least expected. They would steal upon the Brethren of Blood from behind, ghosting toward them with every light aboard every ship, above deck or below, doused. Not a man in the fleet spoke above the faintest whisper.