The Seahorse (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-six

It was seven bells in the first watch. The sky was overcast so that hardly a star shone down. The wind was brisk and Lieutenant Davy pulled his coat a little closer about him. Lieutenant Wiley had gone down to his cot shortly after Dagan had appeared on deck. Davy did not blame Wiley. It had been unnerving for Dagan to show up as he had. However, the conversation had made the watch go by faster.

“Deck thar,” the lookout called down, which gave Davy a start. “I seen something, sir.”

Something
, Davy thought.
What the devil does he mean by something?
Then recalling Dagan's words, Davy grabbed a night glass and went aloft. “Where away?” he asked the lookout who moved over to allow room.

“There, sir, just a glimpse…but look there, sir. See.”

“No…yes by all that's holy.” Miller had picked up a ship's wake where there shouldn't be one.

“You'll get an extra tot and that's no error,” Davy exclaimed excitedly as down the backstay he slid. “Mr Hawks.”

“Aye sir,” the midshipman responded, trying to stifle a yawn.

“My compliments to the captain and I believe we have sighted an enemy ship.”

Hawk was suddenly awake as he ran below to inform the captain. Davy then turned to a petty officer, “Go wake the first lieutenant and the master.”

“Aye, sir.”

Davy started to rouse out all hands but felt the captain would be on deck soon enough to let him make that decision.

“A wolf among the sheep.”

Davy turned.
Damme that was fast
, he thought. Then he realized the captain had probably talked with Dagan and therefore slept in his clothes. “Aye, sir, that's my thoughts.” He then told of the wake but no actual ship had been sighted.

Gabe started to go aloft then decided not to. Davy had done so and he had every trust in his lieutenant. “Roust out all hands and let's go to quarters…quietly,” Gabe ordered. “Hopefully we can turn the surprise around.”

“Nine minutes, sir,” Lavery said, snapping his watch closed.

Gabe felt like it was closer to twelve but he'd allow the lieutenant his three minutes as the hands had gone to quarters quietly and efficiently out of a dead sleep. Turning to the bosun Gabe ordered, “Send up a flare and repeat it until I order different.”

“What direction sir?” Graf asked.

Pointing toward the convoy, Gabe ordered, “That way. Light up the damn sky.”

“That'll surprise somebody,” Gunnells chuckled as the flare went up.

“I'll bet the privateer's man shat his pants with it,” Sir Victor volunteered.

“I didn't realize you had been roused out,” Gabe said.

“Not officially,” Sir Victor replied. “But it's hard to ignore the sounds of a ship preparing for battle.”

This caused Gabe to smile. “Aye, it would wake the dead.”

“Maybe not a midshipman though,” Dagan threw out.

“Aye,” Gabe replied, “not necessarily a mid.”

By the time the second flare was sent up, two privateers had been spotted.

“That one's an odd creature,” Lavery swore.

Gabe was thinking the same thing when Gunnells spoke up. “An xebec. She is an xebec. Something you usually see in the Mediterranean. Usually, a Spanish or Turkish vessel. They carry large crews and the last one I saw carried thirty-two guns…often eighteen pounders. They are usually pierced for sweeps (long oars) to maneuver in light winds. I'll bet she has a crew of three hundred or more being a privateer.”

“You're full of good news,” Gabe said to the master sarcastically after hearing his narrative on the xebec.

The flares had alerted the rest of the convoy so it was not unexpected to see the flash of cannons.

“The xebec has fired,” Sir Victor swore, the percussion coming after the flash.

“They've fired on Ford's ship sir,” the lookout called down. Then followed with, “Two more off to larboard.”

Two more what
? Gabe wondered but couldn't worry. That was where Markham and Taylor were. They'd have to deal with it. For now the xebec demanded his attention. Flashes of gunfire filled the dark. Orange flames leapt out from the cannons and small flashes almost like lightning bugs from the smaller weapons. Another flare went up and Gabe could see the xebec was now alongside the brig,
Britannia
.

“Lieutenant Davy.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Soon as you have a target, commence firing. Fire as you bear, don't waste time waiting on a broadside.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Mr Lacey.”

“Aye, sir,” the little midshipman responded, terror in his voice.

“My compliments to the gunner and he is to fire the bow chasers as they bear.”

The mid ran off to do as ordered, forgetting to answer Gabe.

“Scared that one,” Gunnells remarked.

“You weren't at the age?” Gabe asked.

“Aye…and still am,” Gunnells replied.

“Me too,” Gabe admitted.

Druett, a master at his trade, let loose with a forward gun. Gabe couldn't tell if he hit anything or not but it would at least let the privateer know they had company. Several flashes leaped from the xebec's side and the waters around
Peregrine
came alive. A couple of balls were heard as they sailed overhead, holes appearing in the sails where the balls had passed through. Several balls churned the waters next to the ship as spray soaked the helmsman.

A dull thud was proof that at least one ball had hit the ship, but where and how much damage was not known. A shudder went through the deck planking as Lieutenant Davy's gun crews were finding their target. The bright flames that flashed out into the dark were blinding. Gabe found it difficult to focus on the enemy ship or judge the distance. A crash and screams forward were further proof that the enemy was giving as good as they got, and from the sound of it Gunnells had been right. They were firing eighteen pounders. They would have to close soon or the superior firepower would take its toll on
Peregrine
.

“Mr Lavery.”

“Aye, Captain. We've got to board yonder ship if we stand a chance. See the surgeon and have him supply you with enough white bandages for each man to tie around his head. I don't want to shoot our own men.”

The firing continued as crash after crash was now heard along the hull. Cries and screams could be heard as the enemy's huge ball plowed into the ship. Another crash was felt amidships. A cannon was hit just as it was being fired, the ball and wadding going skyward.

“Keep your eyes open for a fire,” Gabe ordered the bosun unnecessarily.

Sharpshooters were now firing as the ball thudded into the deck and rails along the quarterdeck.

“Firing blindly,” Gunnells hissed. “They're hoping to find a mark.”

“They're finding to damn many for my liking,” Dagan said, breaking his silence as he looked at a hole in his coat sleeve.

“A cable's length,” Gunnells informed Gabe.

The boarders had got down behind the bulwark. Baugean's marines were returning fire from the tops.

“A half cable,” Gunnells shouted out.

Soon,
Gabe thought.

“Hold on tight,” Gunnells yelled just before
Peregrine's
hull ground into the xebec.

“Grapnels away,” Lavery ordered.

Several loud bangs were heard as the marines fired several swivels loaded with grape into the privateer. Men went down as the balls tore a path like a scythe in a hayfield.

“Boarders aweigh.”

Screams, curses, pistol and musket shots rang out in the night. The clang upon clang as metal blades crashed against each other. The yelps as weapons found a victim. The cannons had ceased firing but the occasional muzzle blast still lit up the dark. Dagan had two men attacking him, one with a cutlass, and the other with a boarding pike. Gabe shot each man at point blank range then threw down his pistols and took out his sword. The privateer's men began to retreat but a whistle was heard and more men joined the fight, leaving the captured brig to join their comrades against
Peregrine's
crew.

The fighting was now more a shoving match, with only the front group of people fighting. It was then the marines fired the swivels again, over the heads of the British sailors into the mob of privateers. At that time, shouts of encouragement were heard aft as Lieutenant Wiley had gotten
Peregrine's
gun crews together and flanked the privateers.

Between the fire from the swivels and the flanking maneuver, the privateers began to fall back. Gabe felt someone grab his legs and he fell to the ship's deck. He felt two hands grasp his shoulders and roughly jerk him up. It was the bosun and a petty officer. Looking down, Gabe could see a man trying to crawl, his movements leaving a stain on the deck. Wounded badly, the man struggled once more then died. Friend or foe Gabe wasn't sure but he didn't see the white bandanna.

The struggles continued as Gabe felt a burning sensation along the back of his hand. He lunged out with his blade and felt it grate on a bone then a cry of agony. Touching the burning spot on his hand he felt the wet blood on his fingertips. Not too bad, he hoped. A pistol was fired close by and someone fell into him. Dagan was there and righted the man. It was Sir Victor. Gabe didn't even know that he'd joined the fight. His arm was hanging limply and a dark stain was spreading over his white shirt.
Damme
, Gabe thought,
I can't let the government man get killed
. Seeing Ally, Gabe caught the midshipman's attention and told him to get Sir Victor back aboard
Peregrine
and to the surgeon.

Men were now throwing down their weapons and surrendering. However, with it dark, some continued to fight not knowing their mates had given up. Finally Gabe was able to gain control of his crew.

“Surrender or be cut down,” he offered the privateers. The men reluctantly laid down their weapons. One or two at first then the rest quickly followed suit.

Seeing Dagan, Gabe said, “Check below. I don't see the captain.”

Once the marines had gathered Gabe called to Lieutenant Lavery, “Take the carpenter and see what damage we have. Mr Graf.”

“Aye, sir. Get some lanterns lit, torches if need be. But be careful as they've probably spilled powder on the deck.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Lieutenant Baugean, you had the swivels at the right time. I thought we were going to be swamped.”

“Thank you, Captain, only that wasn't me. It was Mr Davy who directed the fire. I was with Mr Wiley.”

“Where's he at now?” Gabe asked, not seeing the lieutenant.

“He's with the surgeon, sir,” a seaman volunteered. “A ball creased 'is noggin. He was dizzy and bleeding like a stuck pig so Mr Livesey 'ad 'im taken below.”

“Mr Wiley.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Take the gunner and a couple of men and make sure this ship is secure. Check the hole and see if they are carrying anything of use.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Mr Hawks.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let's go aboard the
Britannia
and see how Captain Ford is.”

“Aye, sir,” Hawks said timidly.

“Is there something wrong?” Gabe asked the boy.

“I glanced over the side during the fighting, sir…to see if any of the brig's crew was coming to help but they weren't. They were standing looking down at Captain Ford. He'd fallen. I…ah…I think he's dead, sir.”

“Damn,” Gabe swore. “Well, let's go see how bad the brig is damaged.”
Damme
, Gabe thought to himself,
I liked the man
.
A good seaman he was
.

Chapter Twenty-seven

The Britannia sat low in the water. Her crew was numb from the savage attack by the xebec and, with the loss of their captain, stood around without direction. Seeing one of
Peregrine's
bosun's mates, Gabe ordered him to make a quick inspection of the ship. Within minutes he was back.

“She's got some stove in planking, Captain, right at the waterline. Her holds are filling fast. If we can lighten her up then the pumps should keep her afloat till we's get to Halifax.”

Looking across the brig's deck, Gabe made a quick decision. Speaking to the bosun's mate, he ordered, “Go get Mr Graf.

“Aye, Captain.”

The bosun returned quickly. “You sent for me, Captain?”

“Yes, Mr Graf. Get a working party together. I want those two carronades swayed up onto
Peregrine
. I'll get the carpenter busy rigging a way to lash them down.” Gabe paused and ordered, “If the two guns on deck don't do it, hoist up the easiest two you can get to.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Beg you pardon, Captain.”

“Yes, Mr Hawks.”

“
Dasher
has signaled, sir, one prize taken.”

“Very well,” Gabe replied. “Signal
Dasher
to close with the
Britannia
.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Mr Lavery.”

“Here, sir.”

“Take possession of the prize while I return to
Peregrine
.” Pausing, Gabe looked about him.
So much to do. The dawn was just coming up over the horizon. Would the new day bring better luck? Not for some it wouldn't…the ones being sewed up in their hammocks.

***

Instead of the usual “Damn, Gabe, have you lost your mind?” Captain Frances Markham willingly agreed to hoist up two of the carronades from
Britannia
onto
Dasher
.

“That along with the two sitting on
Peregrine's
deck will lighten the load on the battered brig by several tons making her seaworthy,” Gabe explained, and then continued, “If His Lordship,” speaking of Lord Howe, “asks why we did it we can honestly say it was to save the ship. Then if he inquires as to where his little beauties are now, we can apologize for not making it clear in our report and inform His Lordship that they are lashed down good and proper on our ships.”

“Along with a sufficient supply of powder and shot,” Markham added, raising his eyebrows. Putting the empty glass down on Gabe's cabin table, he looked over to Dagan and said, “Pick up anything useful on the xebec?”

Dagan shook his head, stifled a yawn, and replied, “Nothing worth mentioning.”

Gabe knew different. He had seen the two leather bags Dagan had taken from inside his coat pockets.

“A deposit on retirement,” Dagan had whispered with a smile. His inspections of prizes taken usually generated a deposit for retirement as Captain Markham knew from years of being together. The penalty for such actions was severe per naval regulations. Dagan's philosophy was what they don't know won't hurt them—besides, they get the ship.

As Dagan made his way topside, Gabe said, “Give a care you larcenous old lout.”

Sitting in the pantry, Nesbit was enjoying the last few swallows left in the bottle of hock. Larcenous lout…Dagan…must be another nautical term.

***

The sun was up when Gabe returned on deck. Lieutenant Davy was on the quarterdeck with a bandage around his wound. The sight caused Gabe to look involuntarily at the dressing around his hand. He'd been so busy that once stitched up by the surgeon, he quickly forgot about it. But now…now it was starting to swell and feel stiff.

“The crew has been fed,” Davy volunteered, knowing his captain would ask.

Looking about, Gabe could see the men were tired, spent from their battle and continued efforts to get the ship ready. The torn and useless sails were taken down and replaced. The carpenter and his mates were everywhere measuring, sawing, and hammering. The bosun had men aloft replacing a broken spar. New cordage and tackles had to be replaced. The decks had been washed and a group of men were working way with holystones scrubbing the decks to remove the stains that had been a man's lifeblood.

Gabe stared down at the bodies. Shrouded in canvas like mummies, they lay waiting to join countless brothers of the sea who had given the ultimate sacrifice. Twenty were dead; several more were likely to die. There was also another twenty or so that would soon recover and return to duty.
Duty,
Gabe thought.
What an empty, hollow sounding word.
Without speaking, Gabe nodded to Davy, who had the bosun assemble all hands.

Taking his book of prayers from his pocket, Gabe cleared his throat and read the Lord's Prayer. Nobody spoke. Men stood, some with hats in their hands as they honoured lost mates, friends. Gabe could hear one of the midshipmen sniffle. A few coughs were heard and one or two silently wiped tears. After the prayer, Gabe called each name on the list Livesey had given him. As the name was called, two bosun's mates lifted the plank and the body went over the side, weighted down by a shot placed in the canvas. Captain Ford was the last to go. The sound of the bosun's lone pipe filled the air as the corpse splashed over the side to the unknown depths below.

“Lieutenant Davy.”

“Aye, sir.”

“You may dismiss the hands and have the bosun pipe up spirits. It'll be make and mend today.”

“Aye, Captain,” Davy replied.

Gabe thought,
It won't hurt if Lord Howe has to wait
another day. Not after what they'd been through, it won't
.

***

Heading to his cabin, Gabe saw Sir Victor, his arm in a sling and a bandage on his shoulder. “Will you join me, sir?”

“Thank you, Captain, I believe I will.”

Once at the cabin table coffee was poured. Sir Victor shifted in his chair to ease his shoulder. Sensing something was on the man's mind, Gabe sat silent sipping his coffee.

“I killed a man last night,” Sir Victor said, breaking the silence. “I've never killed a man before. It didn't dawn on me at the time, but later lying there in my hammock I realized I'd taken a man's life.”

Not knowing what to say, Gabe said nothing. Still he remembered the first time for himself. It had been kill or be killed, but that knowledge didn't help when you felt sick on your stomach with a heaviness in your chest.

Sir Victor had been staring into his coffee cup as if looking for answers among the coffee dregs. Finally he looked up at Gabe and asked, “Why are we fighting this damn war?”