Unknown (11 page)

A
nthony had finally gotten a replacement lieutenant for Witzenfeld. Although Gabe and Markham had been commissioned, Anthony was still short of watch-standing officers since his lieutenants were spread throughout his growing flotilla. He had also acquired two more midshipmen. One was a twelve-year-old pimple faced youth who was as round as he was tall. The lad’s name was Joshua Young, and he’d been taken as a favor to Commodore Gardner.

“The young man is a mama’s boy and his father wants to ‘wean him from the teat,’”, confided the commodore when he’d approached Anthony about a possible berth. The boy’s father was a self-made, well-to
do merchant and he wanted the boy to amount to something besides a spoiled brat. An eventual commission would also make him a gentleman and not just a tradesman’s son.

The other youth was Nathan Lavery. He’d been a midshipman for six years and would now be the senior mid. Anthony was concerned about how he’d get along with Davy, but the two hit it off fine. The older boy would be a good influence for Davy.

They’d have to wait and see how young Mr. Young would turn out. His first day on board he cried and whimpered so the master had him “kiss the gunner’s daughter” for sniveling so. The weaning had begun! After a half dozen by the bosun he “dried it up quick enough.” Because Mr. Young was the junior mid, Davy strutted his seniority like a peacock till Buck told him he could find himself at the masthead with his tail feathers
plucked. Davy became his old self after the first lieutenant’s warning.

Anthony also received confirmation on his broad pendant. However, the new lieutenant made Anthony feel that the stars were truly shining down on him. He was heaven sent as far as Anthony was concerned. The man’s name was Julian Pope. His father was a former Governor of Barbados and then retired on the island. Since retiring he’d become a wealthy planter who owned a goodly portion of Barbados and St. John. Pope had entered the Navy as a midshipman under Admiral Rodney in 1760. He had been first lieutenant on the ninety-eight gun first rate
London
and he’d seen action towards the end of the seven-year war with France in 1762 and 1763. He’d steadily moved up until he’d made first lieutenant. However, he’d grown tired of cold, dreary English winters, and his father’s health was failing. Therefore, he’d applied for any available berth in the West Indies. Pope had been frank with Anthony during their initial meeting. He confided that should his father’s health worsen he would resign his commission and take over the family business. Anthony prayed for Pope’s father to have continued health. Pope had grown up in the West Indies and knew the islands, cays, and inlets like the back of his hand.

With the weather moderating, it was time for the patrols to resume in earnest. Anthony returned to his earlier tactics. He took his flotilla out as a group and deployed them so as one ship would never be out of sight of another. This tactic would allow them to cover a greater area. Anthonv also decided to concentrate more towards the Leeward Islands on this patrol. Only St. Martin and Guadeloupe were considered French-held islands, but that was too obvious. If there were a hidden French influence to the ongoing piracy, Anthony didn’t
think that the rogues would make a French island their base of operation. More likely, a small cay or inlet on a sparsely populated island would serve as a rendezvous. Such a place would offer some shelter from a storm, and yet wouldn’t be visible to the casual passerby. A covert cay would be a place they could camp and divide their plunder. Numerous such places were delineated on the local charts the master had acquired, and probably just as many more that had yet to be mapped.

Maybe they would get a break soon. Otherwise he would be hauling down his new pendant and sailing back to England as a failure. The Leeward Islands seemed to be the area hardest hit recently. If one wanted to catch a pirate, Anthony thought, go to where the pickings are the ripest. Unlike some commanders, Anthony had never been shy of seeking advice from someone with experience. Therefore he sent for Pope, and together with Buck and the master, they went over the reports on the recent raids, plotting the positions on the charts.

Anthony listened closely to his counsel, and was subsequently rewarded by his flotilla’s capturing of several small prizes to sail back to English Harbour. They had also burned several “coasters,” and had just captured a gun ketch that was definitely French built—the
Shark.

***

Anthony knew Gabe wanted
the ketch by the time he and Earl had “fetched her up.” When Anthony went on board the vessel, he’d heard Gabe declare, “Damme but she’s a fine vessel, even after those bastards have abused her so.” Being French built, she was not as wide of beam as a British ketch, and slightly longer. Her lines
were more sheer and curving with ornate bulwarks and two raked masts. Her transom was beautifully carved, and she carried five six-pounders on each side with a long nine in the fo’c’s’le. There also were four swivel guns on the main deck and one at the masthead. These were obviously rigged by the pirates who had taken her. The swivels were good for cutting down opposing crews without causing too much damage to the ship itself. Gabe’s only complaint with the vessel was its smell.

After a careful inspection of the ketch, a number of letters were found. They were addressed to various people in England, some of the local islands, and one to Virginia in the Colonies. Why the letters had not been discarded was a puzzle. The only reason Anthony and his fellow officers could surmise was that some of the letters might contain sailing dates, and maybe a hint at what cargo a ship might be carrying. The letters were also evidence that many ships had fallen prey to the cutthroats.

Upon searching the ketch’s storerooms, it was found she carried several barrels of spirits. When Anthony made his way to where the barrels were being “inspected,” he found the master had already broached a cask of wine, which he proclaimed far superior to
Drakkar’
s wardroom stores. Upon such a proclamation, Anthony had no choice but to order the bung replaced and have it made “ship’s stores.” He also eyed Silas, who—knowing his master—nodded his acknowledgment. Thus a cask was sure to become a part of the commodore’s supplies. Several barrels of Jamaican rum were also found. Anthony ordered a barrel to each ship, and the rest poured into the scuppers. Bart was seen shaking his head, muttering what a sad day it was. The bosun voiced his agreement. “It would’ve been a man-sized job, sir. But I reck’n with Bart, Dagan, and a
couple of me mates to ‘elp, we could’ve disposed of it proper like. No use in supplying ole King Neptune, me thinks.”

***

Anthony now had nearly a hundred pirates as prisoners scattered throughout his flotilla. He had also sent many of his crew back on prizes they had taken. Considering this, he decided it was time to return to English Harbour. He had given the ketch,
Shark
, to Gabe, but warned him it was as prizemaster only for now. Once he’d got back on
Drakkar
the master warned, “I just looked at the barometer and I believe we’re in for a squall.” Anthony ordered Buck to make ready for the approaching bad weather. Anthony never questioned Peckham on such subjects. Truth be known, he had an achy feeling too, and felt they may be in for a blow. Without being told, Buck signaled the other ships to prepare for bad weather.

“I don’t mean to tell them their jobs, but they don’t know it all yet,” Buck said by way of explaining the signals. Anthony, without realizing, had turned over more and more of the ship handling to Buck.
He needs the experience for when he makes post,
Anthony had said to himself.

Taking a look around, Anthony could see
Shark
off to starboard.
Rascal
was further astern but in sight, and was to starboard as well.
LeFoxxe
and
LeCroix
were forward and larboard. The squall hit suddenly and viciously as the master predicted. For several minutes the wind had such force that Anthony was concerned about the ship being taken aback by the wind. During this time he could hear the wind whipping through the rigging. Then the wind veered and the sails made a loud flopping
sound. Then everything was calm. It was hard to imagine the squall had come and gone in under a half an hour. The watch on deck was soaking wet where they’d been pelted by the rain. Looking aloft for any damage, Anthony sensed the master as he sidled up to him.

“She be intact,” Peckham said.

At that time, the lookout who had rode out the squall at his station called down, “Deck there. Signal from
Shark.
Large ship attacking
Rascal
.” Anthony whirled toward the master and Buck. Peckham volunteered, “The wind has veered with the squall taking any sound with it.”

Buck looked questioningly at Anthony, “Wear ship and beat to quarters?”

“Aye,” Anthony replied, a sense of urgency in his voice, “But it’ll be over before we get there. Signal
Shark
to keep lookout, but not to close with the enemy. Then signal
LeFoxxe
and
LeCroix
to take station on
Drakkar.
No use sacrificing them.”

The experience and training of the crew now showed.
Drakkar
had come quickly about, and under full sail was beating down on Rascal. They were already reaching on
Shark.

Now that
Rascal
was in sight,
Anthony could see she was engulfed in smoke. The helpless schooner appeared dead in the water. Even at this distance, the damage was obvious. The attacking ship was big all right—as large as
Drakkar,
or maybe even bigger And she was painted black. The smoke was drifting and Anthony could see his foe clearly.

“Even her sails are black,” Buck said. “Just like what that poor sod we plucked from the ocean told us.” The lookout called down again, “The ship is tacking, sir, and appears to be opening her larboard gun ports.” Buck
caught Anthony looking up and volunteered, “She’s carrying every scrap of sail we got, sir.” Even as he spoke the pirate ship had closed with
Rascal
and was ready to let loose another broadside.

Anthony ordered Buck, “Fire the bow chasers!”

“Sir?” Buck looked surprised, not sure he’d heard right.

“Fire the damned gins!” Anthony snapped.

No sooner had the order been repeated than the long nines let loose. It suddenly dawned on Buck that Anthony was trying to attract attention to
Drakkar,
and away from
Rascal
. The realization caused him to he embarrassed that he hadn’t immediately understood Anthony’s actions.

Ignoring
Drakkar
’s bow chasers, the black ship let loose a salvo on
Rascal.
The salvo was ragged, but very effective. Every gun appeared to hit its target.
Rascal’s
foremast was over the side; the main mast was leaning and might fall. The bowsprit was intact, but the jib and fore-staysail, along with most of the rigging, were hanging in the water, acting like a sea anchor. Great sections of the bulwark were blasted away. Guns were upturned, and a large section of the transom was destroyed.

Anthony had the gun crews continue firing the bow chaser several more times, but it was more to vent frustration than any chance of hitting anything. By the time
Drakkar
was up on
Rascal,
the black ship had run with the wind. Anthony was torn between giving chase and stopping to help
Rascal.
Anthony decided to heave to as the black ship had hauled her wind in the direction of the squall. The likelihood of overtaking the pirate vessel was remote. Once she caught tip with the squall, she could easily lose herself. Anthony’s decision to not give chase was also based on the fact that his crew had been
largely depleted to man the prizes that had already been captured. To defend
Rascal
was one thing. However, to seek out and engage a fully manned pirate vessel the size of the black ship would be not only foolish, but also suicidal considering the large number of captured pirates already on board
Drakkar.
He’d get no thanks from the admiralty for having
Drakkar
taken by a bunch of damn cutthroats.

***

Boarding
Rascal
, Anthony could see the destruction and the horror the crew had faced from such an overwhelming foe. Men were lying on deck crushed by upturned guns and fallen spars. Some were groaning in agony, their bodies impaled with large splinters. Others were mercifully dead, so great were their wounds.

“Bloody sodomites,” Peckham had shouted, his blood boiling for a fight. “Poxxed bastard won’t stand and fight man to man. He has to go after a puppy.” The master’s sentiment was felt throughout.

The
Rascal
had been battered all right.
Drakkar’s
crew members continued to search through the wreckage for survivors among the dead. They lay scattered beneath the fragments of cordage, netting, broken timbers and general carnage.