Peregrine Read online

  “Who was the altercation with?” Gabe asked.

  Taking a breath, Lavery exhaled, and then answered, “Colonel Meacham’s man. Ashley is his name, sir.”

  Gabe knew the man. Somewhat of a giant, he’d worked with the colonel’s horses since he was a lad, it was said.

  “How did this incident happen?” Gabe found himself asking.

  “It happened as the men were scrubbing decks, sir. Ashley accidentally kicked a seaman’s bucket which caused him to curse and call Ashley a clumsy oaf.”

  Picturing a bucket of water being kicked over a deck that had just been flogged dry made Gabe smile in spite of himself. No wonder the seaman spoke out. Now he had a task that had to be done all over again.

  “When the seaman spoke out,” Lavery continued, “Ashley grabbed his shirt and jerked him to his feet. Seeing this, Cradock said let the man down, we’ll be having none of that. Ashley then looked at Cradock and hissed, ‘You make me little man’. So Cradock did,” Lavery finished.

  Realizing there had to be more, Gabe looked Lavery in the eye and questioned, “How did he make him let go of the seaman?”

  Lavery gave a sigh not relishing this part but answered, “Cradock kicked Ashley in the testicles and when the big man bent double he rapped him a good one with a belaying pin.”

  “Damme, sir, but that’s a hellish way to bring one down to size,” Gabe said, and then realized this was a sensitive issue indeed. He’d have to walk a tightrope to not anger Colonel Meacham, who, as a prisoner being exchanged, was somewhat of a guest aboard and needed to be treated appropriately; still, Gabe had to maintain the respect of his crew by not overly punishing a shipmate for taking up for one of their own. He’d have to ponder this one, possibly discuss it with his brother and, maybe, Sir Victor. Realizing Lavery was waiting on an answer Gabe started to speak but was interrupted by the bells for the first dog watch. It was time to feed the crew.

  Once the ringing of the bell fell silent, Gabe answered Lavery. “I’ll think on it tonight and we’ll address the problem tomorrow.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” Lavery responded, wondering exactly what his captain meant with the “we’ll” address the problem.

  Chapter Seven

  Gabe woke with a start. Something was not as it should be. The pounding headache from too much wine and brandy consumed last evening, combined with the foul aftertaste of Colonel Meacham’s cigars, did little to improve Gabe’s mood. Never a good riser, Gabe tried to clear his head as he sat up. Nesbit could be heard in the pantry as he went about preparing coffee and, possibly, a pastry that would serve as his captain’s breakfast. He had learned early of Gabe’s difficulty rising and his lack of desire with regard to a full morning meal.

  However, Lord Anthony, who was sharing the captain’s quarters, had risen almost an hour earlier and had drunk two cups of coffee and then carried a cup to the ailing Bart. It was strange the burly admiral’s cox’n had not already made an appearance before the admiral was fully dressed.

  While Nesbit had only been a captain’s man for a short period of time, he’d learned how unusual it was for a captain to share his quarters with a flag officer. The first lieutenant had told him the admiral usually took over the captain’s quarters and the captain took over the first lieutenant’s quarters and on down the chain of command. He’d also been told by Dagan that if the time aboard for a flag officer was to be of short duration, the ship’s captain would usually sling a hammock and sleep in the chart room. He guessed that, with the captain and the admiral being brothers, it did not seem amiss that the admiral insisted the captain sleep in his quarters even if it was the cushions underneath the stern windows.

  Meanwhile, trying to focus, Gabe could see Nesbit’s shadow as he moved around the pantry. The overhead lantern…it was not swaying. That was what Gabe had sensed. Years of waking with the roll of a ship as it cut through the seas had been enough to alert Gabe to a change. Damme, but the master was right…we’ve been becalmed. Gabe’s mind then trailed off and his thoughts were on Faith. Would she be taking Sampson out for a walk when the sun came up? She would he knew, rain or shine. He had on occasion offered but when he’d tried to get the big ugly brute to come along, he just sat down and ignored him. Then Faith would laughingly rise and the dog would jump about as if he were a puppy. Faith called the dog her baby. When hearing these comments Lum would roll his eyes and say, “He sho don’t eat like no baby, Missy and that‘s the truth.” After what had happened to Faith by Montague and his rogues, Gabe didn’t care how ornery the dog could be, he was Faith’s protector and God help the soul who tried to harm her with Sampson around.

  Hearing the cabin door open, Gabe saw Dagan entering. The marine sentry had learned who to announce and who to let pass. Dagan was let pass.

  “Glad to see you’ve decided to join the rest of us who serve aboard his Majesty’s ships.”

  Gabe cut his eyes but didn’t speak. He was the ship’s captain but Dagan was still his uncle and, when not in public, he liked to give Gabe the devil about his difficulty rising.

  “We’re at a calm,” Gabe said, more a statement than a question.

  “Aye,” Dagan replied. “The sea is as smooth as a baby’s arse.”

  Taking a deep breath, Gabe clutched the empty pouch around his neck and thought once more of Faith. In a romantic moment, Gabe had given a huge red ruby to Faith, declaring, “You have my stone and my heart.” When she went to take the pouch he said, “No, this is how empty my heart is when you’re not around.”

  Seeing Gabe clutch the pouch, Dagan thought of Betsy, sweet Betsy in Norfolk. He would find a way to see her. He could understand Gabe’s love for Faith as he had discovered what love was when he’d met Betsy. “Damn this war to hell,” he said without realizing it.

  “I agree,” Gabe said, causing Dagan to flush. He’d not meant to speak out loud.

  * * *

  On deck, Gabe gave his usual greeting. “Good morning, Mr. Lavery, Mr. Gunnells.” The two responded in unison as usual. “I see you were right as always, Mr. Gunnells. Any idea how long we’ll be becalmed?”

  “I’d say a day, two at the most.” Looking up, the flags hung limp and the sails didn’t even flap.

  “I’ve doused the sails,” Lavery volunteered. “Still nothing.”

  “Ahem!” was Gabe’s only reply.

  “After we secure from quarters, we could put out the longboats and tow the ship,” Lavery offered.

  “No …” Gabe said shaking his head. “In this heat, it would be too hard on the men.”

  “Well, maybe it will give the passengers time to recover from their miseries,” Lavery remarked.

  Those within hearing distance on the quarterdeck couldn’t help but chuckle. Then, seeing his brother, the chuckle was quickly forgotten. Bart’s miseries must not be improving for Gil to look so worried.

  “Morning sir,” Gabe greeted his brother as per protocol.

  “Captain, I trust you had a comfortable evening.”

  “It went well.” Damn, thought Gabe, this is not the Gil I know. “Nesbit is heating up another pot of coffee if you’d care for a cup.”

  “Maybe later.”

  “Aye sir.”

  The sun was just breaking day when the lookout called down. “Dasher and Pegasus on station.”

  “Very well,” Lavery called up.

  Turning back to his brother, Gabe asked, “Any instructions sir?”

  “No, Captain, she’s your ship.” And with those comments, he made his way below.

  Lavery walked up and spoke, “Begging your pardon, sir, but I’ve never seen the admiral like this.”

  “You’ve never seen Bart down either, have you, Nathan?”

  Swallowing, the first lieutenant mumbled, “No sir. Even back when we were just snottys, Bart has been…well…Bart.”

  “Aye,” Gabe smiled, “and didn’t he give us the devil?”

  “Yes sir, he did. In a good sort of way, but he did.”

  The lau
ghter caused more than one seaman to look toward the quarterdeck. Lucky sods, one seaman thought, got nothing to do but find things to break a poor tar’s back when they ain’t laughing.

  After enjoying his second cup of coffee, Gabe was using his index finger to pick up crumbs from the pastry he’d just devoured. Watching the captain, Nesbit shook his head and raised his eyebrows.

  “There are more pastries Captain. You don’t have to pick at the crumbs.”

  His comments were totally ignored, as the captain’s mind seemed to be far off. Gabe absently stabbed at another crust as he sat in his chair with his boots propped on another chair.

  Nesbit stared at the captain’s boots; hopefully he wouldn’t ruin the green leather seat cushions. He had spent hours cleaning the tar from a cushion in preparation for the evening guests just yesterday.

  “Nesbit!”

  Hearing his name called so unexpectedly startled the man. “Yes sir.”

  “Would you please give the first lieutenant my compliments, and would he please come down as soon as convenient.”

  “Yes sir,” Nesbit replied. As he passed the sentry on the way topside, he thought, That’s a nice way of saying get your arse down here. Something the bosun had whispered to him when he’d remarked how cordial the captain was when addressing his officers. Ah, he thought, so much to learn about the Royal Navy.

  Within a few minutes, the sentry knocked. “First lieutenant, suh!”

  * * *

  A ring was rigged in the forward part of the ship. Most of the Colonials stood aft and to the starboard side while the ship’s company lined the larboard and forward aspect of the ring. Some stood in the shrouds, trying for a better viewing advantage as the way was otherwise blocked so that they could not see.

  Gabe had mentioned the incident to the colonel two nights previous. The colonel was apologetic his man had caused a rift until he’d been told Ashley had been soundly trounced by a very tough but smaller man.

  “It was due to surprise,” Colonel Meacham said in bluster. “I’ve never seen his equal in a fair fight.”

  Not sure what the colonel called “fair”, Gabe responded, “Well, my men don’t abide by any set of rules, but they are a scrappy bunch. They’ve had to be to survive. Unfortunately, I now have to punish a good petty officer for fighting.”

  Turning his neck from side to side the colonel’s chin seemed to rise as he quickly replied, “But Captain, I see no need for punishment of, as you say, a good petty officer. My man was out of line then your seaman was out of line. In the Army of Virginia, we would let the men settle the issue…in the proper manner, of course.”

  The colonel quickly turned toward Lord Anthony, “With your permission of course, Admiral.”

  Anthony thought a minute then replied, “It’s up to the captain, of course, but I see no reason an exhibition of the manly art of self-defense cannot be carried out within the right setting. There can be no betting, however, for then it would be more than an exhibition.”

  “Well, then Captain it’s up to you,” the colonel said with a glint in his eye.

  Gabe was more than a little concerned about Cradock taking on Ashley but refused to show it. With a poker face he stated, “If the conditions remain favourable, we will put on the…ah…exhibition.”

  Gabe had talked with Lavery, who in turn had a private conversation with Cradock, who was more than willing to face Ashley. Lavery then talked with the carpenter who, with his mates, constructed a ring of sorts. The next morning the sea was like a sheet of glass. After quarters, Gabe gave Lavery the go-ahead to schedule the bout during the forenoon watch if the wind didn’t pick up.

  “Who do we choose for a referee?” Lavery asked.

  “My choice would be Dagan, but ask the colonel if he has a preference.”

  The colonel, who had come to know and like Dagan, had no objections.

  Cradock and Ashley now stood at opposite sides of the rope ring. Lord Anthony had been seated in one of Gabe’s dinner table chairs with Bart, still sick, sitting next to him on one side, while Sir Victor occupied the other. Gabe stood behind his brother with his officers.

  Dagan stood in the ring laying down the rules. “No biting, no eye gouging, no squeezing or kicking the opponent’s testicles.”

  A voice rang out, “Do the big sod have any?”

  This caused Gabe to flush in anger. “A taste of the cat to the next man who speaks out,” he snorted.

  “Ahem…” the colonel cleared his voice and replied, “and I’ll trouble the captain to have his bosun lay on a dozen if one of my men speaks out.”

  Lord Anthony had officially prohibited betting on the match but Gabe had seen more than one wager take place. Dagan called the two men forward and advised them to abide by the rules. The winner had to take two out of three rounds. A round would be called when a man was downed and could not rise by the count of ten or did not answer the call to return to the centre of the ring after the previous round. With that, Dagan nodded to the bosun who gave a shrill whistle and the match began.

  Watching the two men circle, it was obvious to all that the advantages went to Ashley. He had height, weight, arm length, plus he was strong as an ox. Cradock had the experience that only open battle could bring, and he had heart. The two circled each other warily, each seeking an opening. Several times Ashley pushed in to grab hold of Cradock in an attempt to squeeze the breath out of the smaller man. However, Cradock was much quicker and all Ashley got for his efforts were hard fists to the face, which did little to slow the big man.

  After several minutes, both men were drenched in sweat and starting to breathe a little harder. Ashley swung a hard right that was slow and missed. Cradock dove in for a kidney punch that landed and caused a gasp from Ashley. That would have ended the round, if not fight, with most men. Ashley was not most men. He swung his body backwards, his elbow catching Cradock on the side of the head and the man was down. The colonel’s men cheered. Dagan had to forcefully push Ashley back to his side.

  Cradock was dazed but was up on his knees by the count of ten. He stood and went to his side of the ring. “I didn’t see that one coming,” he said, trying to act cheerful.

  As the men were given a cup of water and a wet cloth to wipe down with, Dagan went to the center of the ring, “First round goes to Ashley.”

  Dagan then walked to the side of the ring, looking at his watch. Three minutes had been agreed upon as the time between rounds. The first round had lasted over fifteen minutes. Dagan was soon in the center of the ring again.

  “Time!” he called.

  Both men came forward amid a cheer from their supporters. When the bosun’s pipe sounded, Ashley rushed in but Cradock darted beneath his foe and again gave a tremendous blow to Ashley’s kidney area. However, this time Craddock dropped down to avoid the back swing that had ended the first round. He then immediately faked left, then darted right and this time a hard fist caught Ashley just above the eye, lacerating the eyebrow and causing blood to spurt.

  Ashley then swung around and was just able to grab Cradock’s arm. He then spun, slinging Cradock across the ring onto the hard deck. Cradock was up in a flash and avoided the bigger man’s rush to finish the job. He had gained his feet and, just when it seemed Ashley was upon him, he dropped to the deck, using one hand on the deck for support. Cradock gave a leg sweep. Ashley fell backwards, his head hitting the oak planking with a thud. Dagan counted to ten and it looked like Ashley was out for good. He first let go a deep moan, and then, very wobbly, he finally got to his feet, not sure what had happened.

  “Second round to Cradock,” Dagan called.

  Several things took place almost at once. Standing in the middle of the ring, Dagan gazed upward. Gabe and Lord Anthony followed his gaze and saw the admiral’s flag wave, lift, drop, then gather life and lift up again.

  The masthead lookout that obviously had been paying attention to duty called down, “Pegasus has the wind. She’s making sail.”

  Gabe cupp
ed his hands and shouted, “A draw! The match is a tie. Mr. Lavery.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “Man the braces, all hands prepare to make sail.”

  Lord Anthony saw the look of dismay on Meacham’s face. “Sorry, Colonel,” he explained, “the needs of the ship come first. It was good entertainment while it lasted but as the captain had said, weather permitting.”

  Looking at Ashley’s still dazed features, Meacham acknowledged Lord Anthony’s comment with a shake of his head and headed below where his wife awaited. She had decided to not take part of such vulgar activities.

  Seeing the colonel disappear down the companionway, Gabe spoke to his brother, “I hope the colonel is not too upset I called the fight a draw.”

  “He shouldn’t be,” Anthony replied. “In all likelihood, you just saved him a hundred pounds.”

  Gabe stood there, his mouth ajar. “Surely you didn’t bet,” he asked incredibly.

  “No, not me, Sir Victor. He’s the one that might need an apology.”

  “I’d a bet too,” Bart spoke, the pain obvious on his face. “I didn’t ’ave any bloody doubts. If Cradock ’ad of been paying attention, ’e wouldn’t ’ave gotten his block rattled in the first place and we’d all been a bit richer.”

  “Now Bart.”

  “Yew know,” Bart replied to Anthony.

  “Let’s go below,” Anthony said, changing the subject. “You’ve been up enough today.”

  Gabe watched as they disappeared, and then realized something. Damn, Bart must be sick; he didn’t put in the last word.

  Chapter Eight

  Barely an hour had passed when the sentry announced, “Mr. Gunnells, sir.”

  Gabe had been going over the charts. His dividers, compass, and ruler lay before him on the unrolled chart. Looking up at the master, Gabe was surprised to see the worried look that creased his face.

  “What is it, Mr. Gunnells?”

  “I think we’re in for a blow, sir. The barometer has dropped to twenty-nine and thunderheads are building up to the southeast.”