Peregrine Page 6

  Nodding, Gabe threw down the ruler he’d picked up and had been tapping the palm of his hands with. Going on deck, the sun, which had been very bright, was now hardly visible through a leaden sky. The heat was still intense but the wind was picking up. Well, the master had said a calm then a squall.

  A woman’s shout made Gabe turn. The colonel’s wife had just lost her hat to a sudden gust of wind that was also tugging at her daughter’s dress. One of the seamen was able to retrieve Mrs. Meacham’s hat and return it, his eyes on the colonel’s daughter. The wind pushed the material of her dress against her body, revealing a well-proportioned young woman.

  “Poor Christian souls,” Gunnells volunteered. “The weather has got them so frustrated they don’t know whether to shite or go blind.”

  “Aren’t you the wise one,” Gabe quipped, thinking the sight of the young lady was enough to frustrate his sailors.

  “Comes from years of experience,” Gunnells replied. “I’ve been there a time or two myself.”

  Feeling a bit frustrated himself, Gabe turned and called to the officer of the watch. “Mr. Davy!”

  “Aye sir.”

  “The master says we’re in for a blow. Have the anchor and deck secured…then reduce to storm sail.”

  “Aye, aye Captain,” Lieutenant Davy replied as he called for the bosun. He knew the captain wanted to carry all the sail he could but with the Colonials aboard he would also have their welfare at mind. Otherwise, they’d be tossed about like bait in a bucket.

  “Mr. Davy!”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “Put two men on the wheel before it gets too lively.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Lord Anthony came on deck and watched as the ship was prepared for the oncoming storm. Thunder rumbled and lightning pierced the sky.

  The surgeon made his way toward the admiral, speaking as he approached. “I have always loved a storm. It’s amazing to me to see God’s earth change so drastically from one moment to the next.”

  “Have you been at sea during a storm?” Anthony asked.

  “Oh yes, my Lord. Many a time and I’ve always enjoyed the excitement.”

  Well, you wouldn’t enjoy it so much if you were the ship’s captain, Anthony thought. “Well, I’ll leave you to enjoy the storm, sir. I’m going below.”

  Lord Anthony had just cleared the deck when the rain came: a hard rain coming down in wind driven sheets. Drops so big they hurt when they hit you.

  Suddenly the masthead lookout slid down a backstay and ran to the quarterdeck in a panic. “A ship, sir…a ship is bearing down on us. I reported but you couldn’t hear me hail.”

  Gabe, Lieutenant Davy, and Lieutenant Wiley were in a group when the lookout shouted his report. Gabe grabbed a glass and hurried aft. He’d just focused the glass in time to see a ship appear through the squall and swing to larboard, bringing her starboard guns to bear.

  Seeing the gunports open, Gabe screamed to be heard, “Get down, get down.”

  The crash was deafening as cannon ball, canister, and chain shot tore into Peregrine. Parts of transom and flag locker exploded from the impact of the enemy’s broadside. When he didn’t hear another gun go off, Gabe stood up and focused his glass just in time to see the stern of the attacking ship disappear into the squall. Lieutenant Davy was up and ordering to the bosun to call all hands. Gabe walked forward and stopped. Lieutenant Wiley lay in a mangled heap. Lieutenant Lavery, Dagan, and Lord Anthony had all come on deck and rushed up to Gabe.

  “You’re bleeding all down your back,” a concerned Dagan informed Gabe.

  “There’s no pain. I’ll have the surgeon see to it directly.”

  “He can’t. He’s a goner, sir. Looks like he caught a chest full of canister,” Lavery advised.

  “The surgeon was killed?” Gabe asked, not believing his ears.

  “Yes sir,” Lavery replied stoically.

  “Anybody else?” Gabe asked.

  “Aye, the two helmsmen. Lieutenant Davy and the master have the helm now. Looks like the master may have a broke hand.”

  “Were the other ships involved?” Gabe asked.

  “Doesn’t look like it,” Lavery answered.

  “Send up a distress flare, Mr. Lavery,” Lord Anthony ordered. “If we can find the flags to make a signal send close on flag.”

  “Aye,” Lavery answered, his gaze following the admiral’s to the demolished flag locker.

  “Dagan!”

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  “Get Gabe below and have one of the surgeon’s mates check his injuries.”

  “But sir,” Gabe started but closed his mouth when his brother said, “That’s an order, Captain.”

  * * *

  It was a solemn group that gathered for the burial service. Death was a common enough part of life at sea and the men usually took it in stride as with the other hardships one faced. But damnation, they were under a flag of truce. It was not supposed to happen. If it had been during a sea battle or even caused by the storm it would have been accepted. But nobody expected or accepted this, not the lowest deckhand to the captain. Neither could the admiral, the foreign agent, or even the Colonials. Not a living soul could understand or accept the brutal way their shipmates and friends were needlessly slaughtered.

  A knock at the cabin door sounded as the sentry announced, “Midshipman Chase, sir.”

  Gabe was putting on his dress coat in spite of a very sore back where half a dozen splinters had penetrated his uniform just as he dove for the deck. A split second later and he’d likely have ended up like any of those stretched out on the deck, awaiting his final words before having their bodies committed to the deep.

  Trying to clear his thoughts Gabe looked at the midshipman. He was taking the deaths hard. His eyes were red and swollen from crying. Lieutenant Wiley had taken him under his wing while the surgeon had been teaching the boy to play chess.

  “Yes, Mr. Chase.”

  The midshipman’s voice was broken as he tried to control his emotions. “Mr. Lavery’s respects, sir, and the men are gathered.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Chase. I will be up directly.”

  As the boy turned to leave, Gabe called after him, “I will miss them too, Mr. Chase. They were fine officers. But don’t you worry. Whoever did this will be brought to justice; you can rest assured of that.”

  “Thank you, sir,” the boy muttered. “I hope we do find them and send their hateful souls straight to hell.” The boy then burst into tears and rushed out.

  “I know how he feels,” Dagan commented, catching himself just as he was going to clap Gabe on the back.

  Looking at Dagan, Gabe half whispered, “You knew there was something about to happen. You said there’d be squalls.”

  “Aye. Something,” Dagan admitted. “Not what or when it would happen.” What he didn’t say was his mind had been on Betsy too much of late for him to see things clearly. That would have to change…at least till after the war.

  Lavery saluted Gabe as he came on deck. “Sir, the crew is formed up for burial services.”

  Gabe straightened his back and saw not only the crew but Bart, his brother, Sir Victor, and the Colonials all standing. As Dagan walked up, Gabe barely brushed his shoulder with his arm. Dagan paused, looked at Gabe, then followed his gaze to Bart, who was sweating and extremely pale. The briefest of nods was passed then Dagan walked up to the bosun and whispered in his ear. Within a minute chairs were provided for Lord Anthony, Bart, and Sir Victor as well as Colonel Meacham and his family.

  Once everyone was seated, Lavery took a step forward, “Attention on deck, hats off.”

  Bart made to rise but Dagan, with his hands on his shoulders, gave a gentle push and Bart remained seated. A look of thanks passed from Lord Anthony to Dagan. Gabe tucked his hat beneath his arm and opened his “Book of Common Prayer” to the pages he’d marked “service for the burial of the dead at sea.”

  Gabe could feel the wind in his hair and couldn’t decide wh
ether to put his hat back on to keep his hair out of his eyes or just proceed. With the pages rustling in the breeze he decided to just go forth. While he was reading, Gabe could hear Mrs. Meacham sob and more than one sniffle from the crew. When the final plank had been tipped up and the last shrouded body dropped into the sea, the splash echoing through Gabe’s mind he paused a few seconds and turned to the Twenty-Third Psalm.

  “Let us pray,” and read as the men followed along. “The Lord is my shepherd…” Once the prayer was finished, Gabe turned to his first lieutenant. “Dismiss the crew then prepare to make all sail.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  Gabe had considered making the rest of the day make and mend but decided the men didn’t need time on their hands. He didn’t need time on his hands. Seeing Bart being helped, he thought, He might not have much time.

  Chapter Nine

  The remainder of the voyage was uneventful. The transom as well as the flag locker was repaired as best as the carpenter could with the material available. The sharp contrast of the freshly made repairs compared with the rest of the weather worn transom was enough to alert even a landsman that some tragedy had struck the ship. The strange ship that had attacked Peregrine had not been sighted again.

  Captain Francis Markham, commanding the frigate HMS Dasher, had requested permission to seek out the rogue who had dishonoured the flag of truce so violently. Lord Anthony denied the request, citing their mission and, with the civilians on board Dasher, it would be putting them at unnecessary risk.

  Gabe came on deck just as the sun was setting over the horizon. This was the most peaceful time of day for him. Hearing the bell, he realized it was time for the second dogwatch. Thinking back he remembered his father, Admiral James Anthony, explaining the significance of the dogwatch: “If we didn’t have the dogwatch men would find themselves standing watch at the same time each day. There are seven watches a day. The first watch is from 8 p.m. till midnight, the second watch called the middle watch goes from midnight to 4 a.m. when the morning watch starts. This goes till 8 a.m. at which time you have the forenoon watch, which goes to noon of course. From noon to 4 p.m. is the afternoon watch. Then comes the dogwatches, this is the time between 4 p.m. and 8 p.m. It has been divided into two separate watches. The first dogwatch which is 4 p.m. till 6 p.m. and the second dogwatch which runs from 6 p.m. to 8 p.m. This allows a change in schedules so a man is not always stuck with the same watch.”

  Gabe couldn’t help but smile recalling how his father had so patiently explained it to him. I wonder if he explained it to Gil in the same way, Gabe thought to himself.

  “It’s a pretty sunset, Captain.” The master had approached.

  “Aye, that it is, Mr. Gunnells.”

  “We’ll be off Chesapeake Bay at sunup.”

  Gabe nodded. “And none too soon, Mr. Gunnells. Damme if this hasn’t turned out to be more than I expected.”

  “I believe we all feel that way, Captain. We lost some good people to those mean-souled, poxed sons of sodomites,” the master replied vehemently.

  Gabe had never heard Gunnells speak so strongly. Dagan had approached the two men. Seeing Dagan, Gunnells made his departure, leaving room for the two men to talk. Nesbit had just taken some soup down to Bart, who felt too sick to eat solid food.

  “He is now running a fever. His Lordship asked Nesbit to have you come speak with him. I expect he wants to make his apologies for not being able to dine tonight as planned.”

  Bart’s worse, Gabe thought, so Gil will not leave his side. This was to be the last night the group would dine together before arriving at Norfolk.

  “I’m sure Colonel Meacham and Sir Victor will understand,” Gabe said.

  “My thoughts as well,” Dagan responded.

  “The master says we’ll be there tomorrow. I hope it’s not too late for Bart.”

  “No, I don’t think so. We’ll get Caleb to look at Bart right off.”

  “You expect him to be there?” Gabe asked.

  “I’d be surprised if he wasn’t.”

  “How come?” Gabe asked.

  “Gabe, you haven’t been hearing what has been said have you?”

  “When?” Gabe asked.

  Dagan lifted his brow and replied, “After the evening meals, when Sir Victor and the Colonel break out the cigars. One of the men in charge of the British prisoners to be exchanged is a Colonel Manning, who was a former British prisoner himself. Now they might be more than one but I doubt it. When negotiations for the exchange to take place began Sir Victor mentioned Gil as his choice to carry out the logistics on behalf of the British. Knowing him from Saint Augustine the colonel was in agreement. Now, with Colonel Manning knowing who’s coming, and his knowing my uncle, it only stands to reason he would have told them. So it’s more than likely they’ll be waiting when we get there.”

  “Humph!” Gabe grunted. “Well I can see you are well informed. Did you win any money?”

  “Money?”

  “Yes. Every time that I know of, when the cigars and brandy were broken out, so were the cards.”

  Dagan looked sheepish but did not reply so Gabe continued. “I didn’t feel as ship’s captain it was appropriate for me to play so I made my excuses citing duty.”

  “Well, I did win a few rounds…here and there,” Dagan admitted.

  “I see,” Gabe responded, not surprised but acting so. “Tell me then,” Gabe added, “did you learn anymore important information?” Gabe almost smiled seeing the quizzical look on Dagan’s face.

  “Like what?” Dagan finally asked.

  “Like if a lady named Betsy would be there?”

  “I didn’t ask specific like,” Dagan said, grinning. “But I feel like she will.”

  Lord Anthony’s small squadron was met at the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay by a pilot boat at three bells in the forenoon watch. An hour before they had met up with a British frigate patrolling an area to intercept ships attempting to enter or leave the entrance of the bay. The frigate’s captain, who had several years’ seniority, was surprised when he was summoned to repair on board by a vice admiral. Lord Anthony informed the captain of the incident with the mystery ship and the need to keep vigilant.

  As the pilot boat got closer to Peregrine, Gabe was approached by Gunnells. “It wouldn’t take much to bottle up the Chesapeake and what do we have patrolling the area?” Without giving Gabe a chance to reply, he went on, “A single frigate commanded by an overage captain.”

  Pointing to larboard with his glass, the master continued, “There lies Cape Henry and to starboard is Cape Charles. Just off Cape Charles, to say the middle of the mouth of the bay, lies a dangerous shallow area known as middle ground. To actually enter the bay you have to pass through a funnel between Cape Henry and the middle ground. A squadron of ships could keep the place bottled up.”

  “You seem to know a great deal about the area,” Gabe commented as he watched the approaching pilot boat.

  “Aye, Captain. I was at the shipyard during the Seven Years War, what the Americans called the French and Indian War. The shipyard is called the Gosport Shipyard. It has a deep channel and the harbour offers natural protection from storms plus it’s close to the bay. I don’t know why some say it’s in Norfolk as it is actually in Portsmouth. Until the war it was the best facility we had in North America. Until the war,” Gunnells repeated.

  “Aye,” Gabe replied. “Until the war.” Then eyeing Midshipman Chase, Gabe called the youth.

  “Yes sir, Captain.”

  “My compliments to the admiral and Sir Victor and inform them the pilot boat is approaching.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  Gabe watched the boat as it approached. As the boat grew closer, he picked up a glass for a quick look. Closing the glass with a snap he called to his first lieutenant, “I believe yonder boat has a general officer on board.”

  Embarrassed that his captain, not one of his lookouts, had to inform him of the situation, Lavery swallowed and sai
d, “I’ll have the sides manned.” Then, as an afterthought, asked, “Do we fire a salute?”

  “We do not salute a country whose ownership is in dispute.”

  Lavery and Gabe both turned to see Sir Victor. “My apologies, Captain, I shouldn’t have spoken out.”

  “No need to apologize, Sir Victor. In truth, I was not sure,” Gabe said.

  Lavery called to the bosun to prepare the side party.

  “Aye sir.”

  The air was suddenly filled with the twitter of the bosun pipes and the trample of feet on the deck as men rushed to their station. Lord Anthony came on deck just as General Manning was piped aboard. His aide followed closely behind. Hands were shook and Manning introduced his aide, Captain Cade. Gabe’s officers were then introduced as was Colonel Meacham and his family.

  General Manning shook Sir Victor’s hand and said, “It’s a pleasure to see you again, sir. It seems months of negotiations are about to become complete.”

  “As it should be, sir,” the foreign office agent replied.

  “May I offer you a glass of refreshment, General?” Gabe asked.

  “Yes and a toast to your promotion,” Anthony added. He had been a guest at then Colonel Manning’s quarters when he’d been held a prisoner at Saint Augustine.

  As the group moved from the entry port aft to the companionway, Manning spied another visitor…a frequent visitor, during the time at Saint Augustine.

  “Dagan, how do you do?”

  “Fine sir.”

  “You look healthy. A young lady has asked me to give her regards, should I see you.”

  Flushing, Dagan nodded. “I have hope of calling later with your permission, General.”

  “Of course, I’d be run out of my own home if you were not welcomed,” the general joked.

  Standing to the side, Nesbit took a deep breath. This is a hellish fine way to treat the enemy, he thought. Once in the captain’s dining area drinks were poured.

  “A toast to your promotion,” Anthony said, congratulating Manning.

  “Well, it was promote me or put me to pasture. I’m getting too old to command a combat brigade so they promoted me and made me a diplomat. Experience I gained from Tonyn’s parties helped,” the general joked.