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Deborah pretended to be annoyed. She mildly pinched his arm and whispered, “People are watching!”

“Who cares? God gave me eyes so that I may better appreciate the beauty which he created.”

Flipping her fan to cover her upper chest, Deborah said, “Look upon, yes. Ogle, no. You were ogling, my dear.” Then she tried to hide her smile with the fan. Anthony’s open admiration was something she’d never experienced in her first marriage. She found herself actually excited that Anthony was so blatant about his feelings and desires. She was glad their engagement was now public knowledge. Not that the entire island hadn’t already discussed her love life. She didn’t care, but she didn’t want Anthony to be upset by the gossip.

“Gabe appears to be healing well. He is his old self again,” Deborah commented to change the conversation away from her charms.

“Yes. Caleb is a fine physician. I question his moral fiber, and worry about his influence on Gabe and many of my younger officers. But as bad as Caleb is, his ape is worse. Darling, you wouldn’t believe the mischief it gets into. It’s appalling.”

Again Deborah couldn’t hide her smile as his comment brought to mind the latest gossip. “I heard about the girl in the tavern.”

“You…you’ve heard?” Anthony was flustered.

“Oh yes. The whole island is discussing it. Greta laughed until she cried when she told me.” Trying to control her own laughter, Deborah whispered to Anthony in a husky voice, “I expect I’d holler and scream too if I suddenly found strange hands on my thighs and a hairy head stuck between my legs.”

“Deborah! My word, how you talk!”

“Oh hush. Remember that this is a small island starved for excitement or something that will break the monotony. How many tongues do you think you set to wagging, bedding me when I was supposed to be in mourning? Caleb is a good boy. He’s just not found the right woman to tame him as of yet. I would gladly ignore his womanizing and pranks to have him caring for my people. As for the monkey, I’ll keep my dress down and my legs together.”

Commodore Gardner and Greta were approaching so Anthony was unable to respond to Deborah’s comments.

“Ah, Gil, my friend, how about a glass of hock while it still has a chill on it?” The hock was good. Noting Anthony’s appreciation, Commodore Gardner volunteered, “This is the last of what I got off a merchant from Virginia. He swears it came straight from the Rhine Valley in Hochheim, Germany. It cost a pretty penny but we owe ourselves a few luxuries I’d say,
especially since we’re stuck out here in the middle of nowhere as we are. Men die young, while women dry up like old prunes.”

From the sound of Gardner’s conversation he’d had too much of his own hock. Turning toward Deborah, the commodore belched into his fist, and after begging her pardon asked, “Have you had any time with your, uh, deceased husband’s cousin?”

“Nephew. Gregory’s nephew,” Lady Deborah corrected.

“Who?” asked Anthony

“Why, Caleb, you silly man. Didn’t you know Caleb was coming here to visit Gregory and I? He had not been informed of Gregory’s death when the two of you met. Can you guess how shocked he was?” Deborah exclaimed.

It was Anthony who was shocked. No wonder Deborah took up for the man as she had done. “You should have told me,” he muttered, feeling somewhat peeved and embarrassed.

Deborah was gently waving her fan, trying to create enough air to prevent her from perspiring. The night was hot enough, but with all the candles burning the heat was rising. She could also feel a touch of heat from Anthony. Realizing she had angered him by failing to tell of her relations to Caleb, she sought to change the subject to something lighter. With a deft movement of her hand she snapped the fan shut and, using it as a pointer, directed everyone’s attention across the room.

“My, would you look at
that?’ Several young ladies who were making much to do over his recent wounds had surrounded Gabe. Most were the daughters of local planters and merchants. To them, Gabe would be the perfect catch. A dashing young officer from a well-to-do
family who had already become something of a local hero.

Gabe appeared to be soaking up the attention. His scars seemed to attract more than the usual amount of admiration. For his part, Gabe was doing his best to act the modest, if not reluctant, hero.

“I’d just swoon if I were that age again and a dashing hero like Gabe made eyes at me.”

“Hush, Greta! What you’ll swoon from is that damn corset if you don’t loosen it. You’re already turning pink.”

The little group laughed at the commodore’s remarks to his wife. Then the ladies walked outside to talk, and the commodore went to recharge his glass. As Anthony moved to follow Gardner, he glanced back toward Gabe in time to see one young lass touch the almost healed furrow caused by the pistol ball. As she touched the area, she jerked her hand back suddenly and held it to her breast. It was almost like she’d felt the heat from the pistol ball that had torn a path along Gabe’s temple to the back of his scalp. Yes, Gabe was soaking it up as he should. But Anthony couldn’t help but wonder if Gabe would still be here if the shot had been a little more accurate.

Not one to let their comrade bask in the spotlight by himself, Markham, Earl and Caleb made their way into the small group. After all, Gabe couldn’t handle all these young lasses by himself. He was still healing. Anthony could only imagine the three casting good-natured insults toward Gabe while boastfully bringing attention to their own heroics.

Gardner had returned and offered Anthony a full glass. “What a sight,” he said. “What I’d give to be young again.”

Greta and Deborah had returned and, hearing her husband’s comments, Greta volunteered, “Yes! Young and broke!”

***

After a full evening of festivities, Anthony and Deborah were waiting on their carriage. Buck approached the two, trying not to show his excessive consumption of the commodore’s spirits. Deborah surprised Anthony with her perspicacity when she exclaimed, “Why Mr. Buck. Are you in your cups?”

“Aye, my lady. It’s sorry I am that you’ve seen me in such a state.”

“Well, come on Rupert. We’ll give you a ride down to the quay, and a boat will take you to the ship. You may fall overboard and drown, but at least you won’t fall and break your neck rolling down the hill.”

As Buck was leaving the carriage at the quay, Anthony saw Dagan. He was in conversation with a mulatto woman. She was putting coins in her purse, before reaching into a cage and retrieving out a bird. A large, black bird—a raven. Anthony suddenly felt cold. His body gave an involuntary shudder, and a chill went down his spine. His chest felt tight like his breath was suddenly taken away. In his drunken state, Buck, witnessing the action, volunteered, “Looks like Dagan’s done got himself a pet bird.” Anthony was disturbed; a man didn’t purchase a pet bird at two A.M.

Sounding harsher than he meant to, he said, “
Drakkar
’s a warship, not Noah’s bloody ark. First Caleb’s damn ape, and now Dagan’s bird.” Anthony couldn’t explain to Deborah or Buck how uneasy he felt after seeing Dagan with the raven. “They’d just laugh and say I’m superstitious,” he thought. But still the
feeling remained, like a phantom in his soul. The old servant’s comments were still sharp in Anthony’s memory. “‘E talks to the ravens, sir. Aye, I’ve seen him do it.”

T
he
Shark
returned to English Harbour five days after she’d weighed anchor. Anthony felt an uneasiness lift when the lookout reported
Shark
’s sighting. Pope and Gabe would be coming aboard soon with their scouting report, so there was no need to signal “repair on board.” For that matter, there was no need for Gabe or Pope to realize how anxious he was to get this rendezvous matter settled.

“Silas!”

“Aye, sir.”

“See if you can get a little chill on some of that hock Commodore Gardner gave me. “There might be an occasion to broach a bottle.”

“They’s a couple bottles in the bilges now, sir. I’m sure they’d be just right for drinkin. I’ll go fetch ‘em meself, I will.” Silas didn’t need to be told what the “occasion” was. He’d heard of
Shark’s
sighting like everyone else.

Bart had it right enough when he said, “Cap’n’s quite taken with young Mister Anthony.” Silas had only seen Admiral Anthony on one occasion, but the young Mister Anthony looked much like him. Could this be the reason for his master’s feelings? Bart had also made the comment when Anthony had raised his broad pendant: “Us’ll have another Admiral or two in the family, Silas. You just mark me words.”

Dagan had agreed saying, “It’s so written.”

Therefore, as far as Silas was concerned, it was gospel. The only thing that remained was for the correct
time to come. Silas never thought to question Dagan about where it was written.

***

It was a bright day. The predawn overcast had eased, then was swept inshore by a “goodly breeze.” Looking over at
Shark
through his glass, Anthony could make out Nathan Lavery. The midshipman had been spread out among the various ships like everyone else. He was no doubt dreaming of glory and promotion to lieutenant.

“Ready to weigh anchor, sir.”

“Very well, Mr. Buck. Get us underway.”

As
Drakkar
and her
little flotilla beat out of English Harhour, several coastal luggers and the mail packet met them. Anthony was pacing up and down the quarterdeck, deep in thought. No one invaded his private space when he paced. He’d seen the mail packet as did everyone else, but his mind was on the upcoming battle. Would his fate be that of fortune, or would he become infamous? Buck walked to the edge of Anthony’s space and waited to be recognized. He would not break lord Anthony’s reverie.

“What’s on your mind, Mr. Buck?”

“I was wondering sir, do you think they’ll have mail for us when we return?”

Speaking more harshly than he meant to, Anthony snapped, “Maybe Mr. Buck, for those of us lucky enough to return in one piece.”

Buck could see the somber look on Anthony’s face, and knew he was worried. He was worried more for those he was going to put in harm’s way than for himself. However, he was at a loss for words. Bart had been standing close and heard the exchange between Anthony
and Buck. He knew Buck wanted to say something, but was hesitant, so he volunteered, “Don’t ye be worrying Cap’n. Lady luck is with us. Why it’s in the scriptures. Dagan done said so.”

“In the scriptures!” Anthony snapped. “Pray tell what chapter and verse, as well as what book would I find this passage?”

“Well, sir, iffen Dagan weren’t yonder with Mister Gabe, I’d ask him for you. I surely would. ‘Course iffen yew’s that curious, we could signal and have him come aboard.”

“Curious?”

“Aye, sir.’’

“Why you damned old blackguard. I ought to keelhaul you. Curious, huh!”

Bart turned away, mumbling as he headed toward the companionway. “What was that?” Anthony called. Bart turned back and said, “T’wern’t no need trying to hurt me feelings.”

Shocked, Anthony said, “Hurt your feelings?”

“Aye, sir. Yew know’s we’ums
be the same age. Ain’t no need calling me old.”

“Why damme, Mr. Buck, we got us a cheeky shellback who knows his age,” Anthony said to the First Lieutenant. Maybe Dagan’s lady luck is with us. Bart headed back down toward the great cabin. Maybe Silas had put a couple of wets back. Hot as it was getting to be, a wet would go good about now. However, even if Silas didn’t have anything put back, he’d feel better knowing he’d broken “the cap’n’s mulligrubs.”

***

“It’s time, sir.” Bart was standing there. “It’s time.”

Before Anthony’s eyes came to focus, he could smell the coffee and knew Bart had a cup for him.

“Master says we’s in for a quick squall, and then it should be fair winds rest of the day.”

Looking out the stern window, Anthony could see it wasn’t dawn yet. Following his gaze, Bart volunteered, “It’s about a hour before daybreak.” Anthony still had his uniform on, and now he ached where his coat had gathered under his back. He’d come down to the cabin to get out of the watch’s way. He didn’t want them to feel his own anxiety and misgivings. He’d sat on the cot, and at some point fell asleep. “Did the men rest?”

“Aye, sir. It was a bit cramped with all the extra men on board, but they rested. That extra tot of rum you ordered was jes the right thing to help ‘em sleep like little babes at their mama’s teats.”

Anthony snorted. Where Bart came up with all his little analogies one could only guess. However, they were usually accurate—frequently profane— but accurate. Anthony had commandeered every available man he could from Antigua. A ship the size of the
Reaper
would ordinarily carry a crew of three hundred and fifty or so men. However, being a pirate ship, she may well have five hundred aboard.

When Anthony came on deck he could feel the wind. A quick squall, the master had predicted. The wind caused a flapping noise, possibly where a sail wasn’t furled tightly.

“Damme, sir. Take another turn there, would you? Your watch is as loose as a whore’s drawers, Mr. Markham. I expected more of you, sir.”

“Aye, sir,” Markham replied to the first lieutenant. Then he called, “Bosun, brail up there if you will. I trust I don’t have to remind you of your duties sir, experienced old salt that you are.

“Aye, lieutenant. We’ll see to it.’’

“McCarty! You ‘erd the lieutenant!”

Anthony smiled to himself. A game—Buck got on Lieutenant Markham, Lt. Markham got on the bosun, and the bosun on the nearest sod who was probably just waking up. It was also apparent that Buck’s nerves were worn a bit. The
Scythe
had already anchored off Snake Island. In the distance, a few lights were visible—possibly Snake Island or St. Thomas. Lights on Virgin Gorda, St. John, and Tortola were in sight as well.

Anthony had sent a party ashore under cover of darkness, and had them cut a few branches and tops out of palm trees. He then had the carpenter and his mates attach the tops to planks that could be easily discarded when needed. Until then they were fixed to the mast, yardarms, and along the rail. This would help disguise the ship’s appearance. While it might not stand close scrutiny,
Drakkar
would be hard to pick out at first glance nestled in a small inlet as she was.

Drakkar
had dropped
her anchor as close ashore as possible between St. John and Virgin Gorda. “Too close for my liking,” the master had said. If the approaching squall had any force they’d have to get under way, and that would ruin all of Anthony’s plans. Yet he could understand the master’s apprehension. When the wind died down, one could hear the surf. Fortunately the wind was now coming from the north-northeast. While Anthony couldn’t see them, he knew the ketch and schooners would be in place. Now it was a waiting game. Buck, Peckham, the gunner and the bosun were all in conversation when a member of the watch nudged Lieutenant Markham. Still smarting from the first lieutenant’s remarks about a loose watch, Markham greeted Anthony without informing Buck that he was present.

“Good morning, sir. It will be light soon. I’ve kept a watch on the anchors and we’ve not drifted.”

Peeved, Buck turned and greeted Anthony. “Promises to be a warm one by mid morning,” Peckham volunteered.

“Ah, but the question is for whom,” Anthony replied. Then turning to Buck, he said, “Put your best eyes aloft today. I want good men with a glass at the masthead and change them every two hours.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Buck had already taken care of the lookouts, but it didn’t hurt for Anthony to remind him. Another little breeze caused a small flapping noise overhead. The group looked up as one. Anthony’s broad pendant.

Funny, Anthony thought. He hadn’t even thought about that for some time, hadn’t even really considered himself a commodore. Bart had yet to address him as anything other than “Cap’n” or sir. However, there flapping in the wind was his proof. There was the standard that men would follow into battle this day. Some would die; maybe he’d die. “God be with Gabe,” he suddenly prayed.

Buck had followed Anthony’s gaze. “She makes a pretty sight, don’t she, sir?”

“Yes, Mr. Buck. That she does.”

“I hope you don’t mind my saying so, sir, but I think the Admiralty did the right thing giving you the broad pendant. I just wish you could have had a true flag captain.”

Without knowing it, Buck had touched on Anthony’s feelings. If he’d had a flag captain, maybe he would have felt more like a commodore. “Well, Mr. Buck,” Anthony answered, “Let’s just be thankful for the support they did give us, and let us not be forgetting all the help Commodore Gardner has been.”

“Aye, sir. A great help he’s been too.”

Silas peered above the companionway. “Are you ready for your breakfast, sir?” Seeing Anthony’s look, Silas added, “We’ve got butter and jelly to go on some bread. That’d go good with a fresh cup of coffee ‘iffen ya want something light.”

“Sounds good, Silas. I’ll be down directly. Have the men been fed, Mr. Buck?”

“Aye, sir, and were ready to go to quarters.”

“Then I shall break my fast.”

Then from above came the hoarse cry, “Deck there. Sail to the nor-east.” Even though Anthony had been expecting the sighting to be sooner than later, he was startled at the alarm. He was suddenly apprehensive. He could second-guess all his plans if he wanted, but that wouldn’t change a thing. Today would be a day of reckoning!

“She’s coming down the passage just like Pope predicted,” Buck was saying. “Aye, but a bit early, I’m thinking,” Anthony

replied.

“Better to get it over with,” Peckham chimed in.

“It’ll be a while yet,” Anthony said looking at his watch. “I shall have my breakfast, I think. Bart!”

“Here, sir.”

“Let’s go eat.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

As the commodore and his cox’n disappeared, Peckham asked Davy, “Well young sir, have you ever seen such a cool ‘un?”

“No, sir,” Davy said, still in awe. Standing at the foot of the main mast, the bosun had seen and heard the entire conversation. As he moved forward he recalled his recent conversation with Bart about being part of Anthony’s family. “Reckon the sod is family,” he
muttered to himself, “eating breakfast with ‘is lordship and the like.”

***

When Anthony returned back on deck he was patting his stomach. “Nothing gets a man ready for battle like a full belly, Rupert.”

Buck, hearing Anthony, turned and replied, “Aye, that it does, sir. But if you get a belly full of lead its an agonizing death, I’m told.”

“Well, thank you very much for your insight, Lieutenant,” Anthony replied. “Just what I wanted to hear!”

“It’s light enough now, sir,” Buck continued, ignoring Anthony’s sarcasm. “The lookouts have made out two different ships.”

“Two?” Anthony said, alarmed.

“Aye, sir. One is definitely the
Reaper,
and the
other is a smaller ship, possibly a brig. Maybe a captured vessel.”

“We’ve not been sighted?” Anthony questioned.

“There’s been no sign we have sir. But without expecting us and with the way you’ve got us camouflaged, we’d be hard to spot.”

Anthony nodded.
Drakkar
would he
hard to spot. But if she were, she’d be like a sitting duck for awhile. However, wiith the sun rising and the islands lying behind them, the ship was hidden as well as a ship could be. But two ships! They were expecting the
Reaper—
not the
Reaper
and another ship. No plans were made to take on two pirates. There had been many questions left unanswered, and one wouldn’t have to look far to find flaws in this plan. He should have considered
Reaper
might well have been rendezvousing with more than one
ship. “Damme,” he said out loud. It would be a hellish job taking on
Reaper
by herself, but now the odds looked insurmountable.

Buck volunteered again, seeing the concern on Anthony’s face. “The brig’s not flying a flag, sir, so she may be a ‘took’ ship.”

“Took or not, Mr. Buck, she’s crewed by a band of cutthroats that’ll know how to use her better than the crew she sailed with most likely.”