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T
he mail packet,
Heron,
had just set sail. Anthony watched and couldn’t help but feel a degree of envy for her commander. He was only a lieutenant, but when he stepped aboard his ship he was given the same honor as a captain on a first rate. It was the freedom that Anthony envied. The
Heron’s
skipper was free of the humdrum duties associated with the fleet. Governors and senior naval officers, such as Commodore Gardner, who was starved for the latest news and gossip, generally welcomed him as an honored guest.

It was rumored that a senior admiral had held up sailing orders for an entire fleet until a mail packet commander could finish a particular juicy tale about a Member of Parliament coming home and almost catching his wife having sex with a young frigate captain. The lady in question heard her husband, who was much older, come puffing in the house and start up the stairs to their bedroom. The lady jumped out of bed and quickly put on a very revealing gown that left nothing to the imagination. She then stood in the doorway blocking her husband’s view of the room. During this time, the frigate captain hastily gathered up his clothes that thankfully were piled next to the bed. Scooping everything together he slid under the bed. As quietly as he could, he began to dress, paying particular care so he wouldn’t make any noise and thus be discovered. The lady made a valiant attempt to entice her husband to partake of her favors. After some coaxing, she was able to arouse the man to activity. The captain had to lie under the bed, which groaned under the weight of the lady and her husband. A great sag in the mattress gave the captain cause for
concern, and he had to work his way to one side of the bed to keep from being pinned down between the bed and the floor. After a while the sounds from the two having sex and the constant groan and squeak of the bed lulled the captain’s senses and he dozed off. He was not sure how long he’d slept when a sudden loud sound awakened him. At first he wasn’t sure if it had been a loud snore or if one of the two above had expelled a resounding burst of flatulence. However, a certain foul odor started to permeate the air. The smell had been bad enough with the husband’s shoes not a foot away from the captain’s face. Now this new odor, combined with the shoes, was overwhelming. The captain, who had always suffered from a weak stomach, found himself gagging and couldn’t crawl from beneath the bed quick enough, spewing his gastric contents from the side of the bed, through the door and down the stairs. As the captain made his urgent departure, he woke up his lady friend who immediately set about cleaning up the mess. Her husband slept through the entire process. The lady thought she’d removed all signs of her lover having been present and therefore went back to bed.

“Did the old man ever become the wiser?” the admiral asked the lieutenant.

“Aye, sir. In the morning when he put on his shoes.”

***

Mail call had been passed, and men were gathering in little groups before the mail packet was out of sight. Anthony and Deborah’s engagement and wedding announcements were on the packet. Anthony saw the surgeon sitting on crate near the forecastle with several men gathered around him. One was very near him and the others sat a respectful distance away. The surgeon
was reading mail for the men who couldn’t. Anthony was never certain if the surgeon was being kind-hearted or if he was just nosy. Bart strode up and declared, “Funny ‘haint it, cap’n. Half them buggers can’t read nor write, but they’s always getting mail.” It did amaze Anthony. He knew several officers that not only read letters for the men but also would even write home for them upon occasions. Sometimes a seaman who was more educated would provide these services for his mates. Anthony had gone back to his cabin and had just finished a letter from his agent in London when the marine sentry hit the deck with the butt of his musket and shouted. “Lt. Anthony, Zur.” The loud noise and the marine’s shout startled Anthony. Without thinking he cursed, “Damme man, but we’re between decks, not on the parade field.” As Gabe entered Anthony was still muttering, “Thinks he’ll make corporal but he’s lucky I don’t keel haul him.” Gabe had to laugh at his brother, causing Anthony to smile at his irritability.

“Sit down Gabe. Silas, a glass if you will. Claret would not be amiss.” Anthony bellowed to his servant, mocking the sentry’s recent outburst.

Gabe had become a more frequent visitor since he’d been asked to be “best man.” He always made sure it was at appropriate times, such as when “make and mend” had been passed. Today, Gabe had a letter in his hand, which he handed to Anthony and said, “Does this mean what I think it does?”

After peering at the letter Anthony responded. “If you’re asking if you’re a wealthy man, then the answer is yes.”

Anthony had talked Gabe into
letting his prize agent in London handle Gabe’s prize and head money. Anthony tapped his own letter which he’d laid on the table and said, “It appears we’re both well off. There’s
enough to hold us for a while if we wind up on half pay after this commission is complete.”

Gabe looked at his brother, suddenly very serious. “Do you think we’ll wind up on the beach, sir?”

Anthony found that even he was disturbed by that question. Not about the possibility of being without a ship, but the very likelihood of war with the colonies. “No, Gabe. With the shaping hostilities, I believe as the commodore does. Lord North has pushed too far, and we—men like you and me—will pay for his arrogance. Soldiers and sailors alike will die. I only pray we are spared.”

“Dagan has family in the colonies.”

The statement was so out of the blue Anthony was taken aback. “Dagan does?”

“Yes, sir. He and mother’s family lived in Guernsey. They were Huguenots and moved to Guernsey from France thinking they’d find greater acceptance being French Protestants. But life was hard. Dagan’s father, my grandfather, was first mate on a snow and eventually was given his own ship, but had to move to Chatham. Without family being close by, Dagan’s uncle moved to the colonies with Lord Burgoyne. Lord Burgoyne’s offer of land and horses were more than he could resist. Now Uncle Andre has a large farm and breeds some of the finest horses in Virginia.”

After Gabe left, Anthony found himself dwelling on just how little he knew of Gabe’s family on his mother’s side. He’d believed the rumors of Gabe’s mother being a gypsy lady because it had been convenient. Dagan certainly had the appearance and mystique of a gypsy. But just what did being a gypsy mean anyway? The thought was still with Anthony when he drifted off to sleep that evening. He awoke sweating. He had been dreaming that Dagan had charmed then beheaded a
great sea monster that was about to engulf
Drakkar
and her entire crew. In his dream, Dagan had been a sorcerer. A gypsy sorcerer.

G
abe was helping with some re-fittings on board
Rascal.
While making sure the repairs were done satisfactorily, Gabe and Lieutenant Pope had been in a general discussion of possible ways to locate the pirate’s lair. Gabe noticed a shadow on the deck, and when he looked up he found Bart and Anthony peering down at their handiwork.

“Told ya,” Bart was saving to Anthony. “‘E’ll make a fair bosun iffen he ain’t found suited to be an ossifer.”

“Damn you, Bart,” Gabe snorted.

“See ‘e’s already talking like a bosun, cap’n. Bless me if he ain’t.”

Having given the two time to insult one another good-naturedly, Anthony said to Gabe, “Lieutenant Buck says you got some ideas on how to go about finding the pirate’s supply base.”

“Well, sir,” Gabe started, “I’ve been talking with Lieutenant Pope, and it’s really his idea. He thinks we might use
Shark
to get a closer look at several of the coves and inlets around some of the smaller islands and cays where we’re likely to find the pirates. There is liable to be places the other ships can’t get close to without causing a stir.”

“You think they’ll just let you sail in, spy on their operation, then allow you to sail off again without cutting at least a few throats?”

“No, sir. We thought we might get the loan of some marines from Lieutenant Dunn to give us a few extra fighting men. We’d keep them out of sight of course, and leave off our uniforms, dressing like some of the rogues
we’ve captured. We will rendezvous at certain times and locations.”

“What if you get into trouble?” Anthony asked his energetic brother.

“Well sir, you’ll always be close—stay in sight of the masthead lookout. If there’s trouble we can send up a flare.”

Anthony nodded. He’d been thinking along those same lines once the idea had been presented. Anthony also knew Gabe wanted command of the ketch, but this was a job for someone who had more experience. He would let Gabe go along as second, but Lieutenant Pope, who in the past had commanded a cutter and a brig, had the necessary experience as well as the knowledge of the local waters. Looking at Gabe, Anthony said, “And who do you think should lead this search?”

“Ere—I was hoping to sir, but I’d be glad to second Lieutenant Pope. I’m sure he’ll be your choice.”

“Aye, that he is,” Anthony agreed. “But don’t you worry. You’ll get your command soon enough. And who knows? This little trip may even present us with another little prize to fatten your purse.”

This comment brought a smile to Gabe’s
face even though Anthony sensed his disappointment.

***

It had been three days since the flotilla had beat its way out of English Harbour on a heading that most merchantmen would use going to Barbados.
Drakkar
and her consorts would lie hove to or move along under reduced sail while the ketch,
Shark,
made her way through the shallows around Dominica, Martinique, St. Lucia and finally St. Vincent. Now it was time to rendezvous as planned and sail into Barbados. Though
disappointed at coming up empty-handed in their pursuit of the pirate’s lair, Anthony had to admit Pope knew his business. The trip was not a total waste, as Anthony felt the experience was needed for the new hands. They were already decent seamen, but they needed to learn the Navy way of doing things. As McMorgan, the bosun, was so fond of saying, “They’s the right way, the wrong way, and then there’s the King’s way. From this day forward, lads, its me duty to teach you the King’s way.”

Standing on his quarterdeck, Anthony watched ships of various sizes and descriptions coming and going as
Drakkar
made her approach into Barbados. Most were traders, but a few were naval vessels and one was a sleek yacht. Small boats could be seen plying their way between shore and anchored ships. A water hoy was tied up alongside a brig. Lord Howe was there in his flagship, the sixty-four gun
Eagle
. She was old, her keel having been laid somewhere around 1740. She had been with Rodney’s squadron off Cape Finisterre in 1747.
Drakkar
having begun her life as a sixty-four, suggested comparison to
Eagle
.
Drakkar
’s lines appeared to be sleeker, and she didn’t appear to be as broad in the beam.
Eagle
would never have been the fast sailor
Drakkar
was, Anthony decided.

“Damn the French. But they knew how to build ships,” Anthony said aloud without realizing it.

“Sir?”

Anthony looked down. Lavery, one
of the new mids, looked puzzled. “I’m sorry sir, you were saying?”

Feeling embarrassed for speaking his thoughts aloud Anthony said, “Its time we honor the flag, is it not? Prepare to fire our salute.’’

“Aye, sir,” Lavery answered. He then sped away to relay the message to the gunner who was already prepared to render honors.

Bart was laying out Anthony’s best coat when he walked into his quarters. “Silas will help you change sir, while I see to it the gig’s ready,” Bart said and then departed. He had been around long enough to know the Admiral would likely signal “repair on board” as soon as the last shot was fired and the salute had been rendered.

***

Lord Howe cheerfully greeted Anthony and offered refreshment while congratulating him on hoisting his pendant. Anthony quickly filled the Admiral in on their successes and failures to this point.

“My word, but the man sounds like a black-hearted devil,” Lord Howe had said upon hearing how
Reaper
and her cohorts were slaughtering their captives.

“Means to anger you so you’ll make a mistake,” the Admiral exclaimed. “Keep your wits about you. Otherwise…”

Anthony had noticed Lord Howe kept watching his door as if expecting someone to enter. Finally, the flag lieutenant did so.

“Excuse me, sir. It is time, my lord.”

“I beg your forgiveness, Gil,” Lord Howe said. “I have a meeting with the Governor. We’ve just been told things are heating up in the colonies, and I’m going to have to try to deal with it. Bad business, Gil. Bad business.”

Anthony stood and shook Lord Howe’s hand. Almost as an afterthought Lord Howe called, “Flags. Have you not been introduced to the commodore? His father and I were friends.” Turning back to Anthony,
Lord Howe offered his condolences. “I’m sorry to hear he’s gone, Gil.”

Returning his attention to the flag lieutenant, Howe said, “Our commodore’s father was known as ‘Fighting James Anthony.’ Like his father, our guest has already made a name for himself as a fighter. I expect he’ll follow in his fathers footsteps and raise his own flag before long.”

***

After returning to
Drakkar
and finishing
a light evening meal of kidney pie, wine and a small dish of plum duff, Anthony was reading his log and going over his entries when the marine sentry announced, “Lt. Anthony, zur.” Gabe entered, trying hard to appear normal, but he was obviously the worse for drink.

“ I say, Gabe. Are you in your cups, sir?”

Anthony was somewhat taken aback by Gabe’s
appearance. Nodding his head in the affirmative, Gabe managed an “Aye, sir,” with the “sir” being belched. “Sorry, sir, but my present state is the result of upholding the honor of the Navy, sir. More precisely, the honor of
Drakkar
.”

“Hmm! How so?” Anthony questioned.

“Well sir, Julian, ‘ere Mr. Pope, Stephen Earl and myself stopped in at a tavern for a ‘wet.’ As we were enjoying our first tankard, this bullock major comes in and tells Nancy she…”

Anthony held up his hand stopping Gabe in mid-sentence. “Nancy? Who’s Nancy?”

“Oh, she’s a sassy little wench who was trying to decide which of the three of us would offer her the most pleasure when we bedded her.”

Anthony’s eyes widened. “You were all going to bed the same wench?” he asked, not sure if he wanted to hear more.

“Oh no, sir,” Gabe assured him, “Just the one she chose. That’s when this bloody bullock said if she truly wanted pleasure, she needed to forget about us Navy slobs and cast her lot with him—a marine, a true man.”

“I see,” said Anthony, who was now starting to warm to what promised to be a good story.

After pausing to collect his thoughts and steady himself, Gabe continued. “Then Caleb…”

Once again Anthony interrupted. “Is Caleb the bullock major?”

Gabe was shaking his head. “No sir. He’s a doctor from the colonies who got run out of Massachusetts after being caught ‘flagrante delicto’ with the governor’s niece.”

“My God!” Anthony exclaimed, not believing his ears.

This time Gabe was shaking his head negatively but responded in the affirmative. “Caleb said a finer piece of mutton didn’t exist.”

Now Anthony was shaking his head. “Pray tell me how this doctor is involved in upholding
Drakkar
’s honor?”

“Oh, yes sir. It was Caleb—that’s the…belch doc…tor, who said we should have a competition, and the victor would enjoy the wench’s pleasure.”

This is getting interesting
, Anthony thought. As Gabe seemed to have lost his train of thought, Anthony said, “Please continue.”

“Er—we decided to have a drinking contest. The major brought in two of his bullock mates, and we—Stephen, Julian and I—took them on. I won! I was the last man standing.”

Unable to hide his amusement, Anthony asked, “Was the lass worth it?”

“Oh, ah, well sir, the contest took so long Nancy got tired of waiting and went upstairs and bedded Caleb.”

“Well, damme,” burst out Anthony, laughing. “I hope the good doctor don’t get the pox.”

“Oh, no sir, he won’t,” Gabe replied all at once very seriously. “Caleb had a new condrum.”

“That was a good story; It sounds like you’ve had an eventful evening Gabe. Is that why you wanted to see me?”

“Oh, no sir,” said Gabe,
realizing he hadn’t broached the subject that was the reason for his visit. “I just about forgot, sir,” Gabe said, now trying very hard to not weave on his feet as a gentle swell caused
Drakkar
to rise then settle, “The doctor wanted to know if he might take passage back to English Harbour with us. He has relations there he’s going to visit.”

Anthony, somewhat surprised Gabe would make such a request, stated, “I’m sure he’d be more comfortable if he obtained passage with some merchant vessel or coastal trader.”

“He can’t, sir.”

“He can’t?” frowned Anthony.

“No sir. He’s broke; he doesn’t have any money. I had to pay his tavern bill,” declared Gabe. All at once there was a loud shrieking sound, almost like a scream. on the deck overhead. Men could be heard cursing in loud excited voices, the sound of feet as the watch scurried around on deck, then more shouts.

“What the hell?” Anthony cried as he bounded from his chair, heading topside.

“It sounds like the doctor’s ape,” Gabe said nonchalantly. Anthony nopped dead in his tracks.

“His ape?”

“Aye, sir. A cute little bugger he is too, but somewhat difficult when he’s in his cups.”

“The monkey drinks?”

“It’s an ape, sir. Not a monkey. He’s an ape. But aye, sir, it drinks.”

***

The next morning Anthony was going over last evening’s story and subsequent events with Buck. Buck had been a guest of the first lieutenant from
Eagle,
and therefore had missed the excitement.

“I hope Lord Howe didn’t hear the damned commotion. Can you imagine his being awakened and training a glass on
Drakkar
only to see a damned ape being chased through the riggings by the watch?”

Buck couldn’t help but laugh, trying to imagine the sight. Anthony snorted. “Laugh if you will, sir. But when I’m sitting on the beach collecting half pay, I’ll have company—and that’s no error.”