Another shadow appeared, causing the group to look up. It was Lum. He squatted next to Dagan and lit his own pipe. Not a meerschaum like Dagan's but a simple corn cob pipe with a straight stem. As the four sat together, Swan made her way up the coast in a ghostly silent manner.
Looking to larboard, Lum said what they were al feeling. "They's watching us, they knows we heah!
Trouble is we don't know what they's about." Then Lum took his lotz from inside his shirt and after licking his lips played another of his sad melodies.
Looking at the black man whose black hair gleamed from ocean spray and specks of gray, Gabe thought, damned if he doesn't have the uncanny knack of playing a tune to fit my mood.
Later that night as the sky darkened, the men off watch slung their hammocks and everybody seemed to be in his own world. Gabe lay down in his cot in the captain's cabin. Markham had been very gracious, sharing his cabin with him. Lying there, the familiarity of the ship seemed to ease his troubled mind. While he wasn't back on the SeaWolf, he was at sea in an environment in which he knew and was comfortable in.
This was the salve his soul needed.
The dawn broke with the promise of a much different day. Davy, bright and cheerful, as ever sidled up to Gabe, "Master says we'll get wet today."
"Well, I'd never question the master," Gabe replied, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Years of service at sea made him an early riser…but he'd never be a good riser.
Seeing Gabe on deck, Markham walked over to his friend. "Get the cob webs cleared yet?" Gabe's answer was a yawn.
"Nantucket is off to larboard," Markham explained,
"I want to stay well out so we want have to play errand boy to some self important captain or another admiral.
If al goes well, we should meet up with Lord Anthony tomorrow."
Towards noon the master's prediction came true. A heavy drizzle started and the sky turned gray matching the sea which was getting up. Markham crossed the deck and the man at the wheel volunteered, "She be steady, sir," nor'by-east, full and bye." Markham nodded and seemed to be on edge.
" Massachusetts is home to some of the most able privateers. We can't let our guard down this close to home. While you were…ere…in the southern colonies Gabe, a dispatch schooner was headed to New York and was taken by the brigantine, Trannicide, fourteen guns. Her Captain Fisk is without a doubt a capable man."
"Deck there! Sail, no two sails dead ahead off the starboard bow."
Gabe and Markham both gave a knowing look to each other. "Mr. Davy!"
"On my way captain." Davy didn't wait to be told.
Upon hearing the sighting he'd grabbed a glass and was making his way towards the shrouds before Markham could cal out.
Looking at Gabe, Markham said, "Cheeky little bugger. Thinks he has me figgered out does he?"
"Aye, that he does," Gabe replied noticing Dagan headed toward him with Lum in tow.
"It's a brigantine grappled to another ship, sir, maybe a corvette."
Dagan and Gabe looked at one another, could it be the same ship they'd met off the South Carolina border?
"Are you sure, Mr. Davy?"
"Aye, sir, I'm sure and it's a fight they're having, I'm thinking. You can see muzzle flashes."
"Very well," Markham replied, then turning to Lieutenant Harrel, "Beat to quarters if you will, sir. It appears we've work to do today."
Harrel stood by the wheel while Gabe and Markham discussed the strange sail. Would the corvette, if that was what she truly was, recognize Swan?
Would her captain know she had been taken? These were al questions that passed between Gabe and Markham; questions but no answers. However, in these waters you could choose a dozen possibilities and al spelled trouble.
"Deck there! She's definitely a corvette, sir." Well, if Davy was that sure then they had a fight on their hands.
"She'll have twenty guns at least," Markham replied.
"Aye," Gabe answered, "But if we've seen them then likely the schooner she attacked has spotted us as well so maybe that will put the odds in our favor."
"We'll know soon enough I imagine," Markham answered and then turned his voice to the lookout,
"Keep watching her, Davy."
Gabe waited for the deck to steady as Swan's bow dipped through a swell and then he trained his glass on the two ships. They were close enough now.
Individuals could be made out. With only a small crew, Swan would be hard put to give a good accounting for herself.
With Gabe, Dagan, Lum and Caleb the total number on board was only seventy-six. She needed ninety to properly fight. Gabe was sure the privateer had double their number on board. Hopeful y, the schooner would have enough survivors left to lessen the odds.
"You going to close and fight her, sir?" said Lieutenant Harrel.
Markham 's reply was short and terse, "Would you have me turn our heels and abandon yonder ship sir?" Experience, Gabe thought. The man lacked experience. It had never occurred to Markham to do anything but fight.
It was his duty. The gunner approached Markham, knuckled his forehead and announced, "Cleared for action sir, al guns loaded."
Swan carried fourteen six-pounders and half a dozen swivels. The Swan was now on a converging tack, bowsprit to bowsprit, like two knights engaging in a joust. Dagan was on deck now bringing with him Gabe's sword and pistols. So near the admiral's squadron, yet so far away. Lum was with Dagan, seeing him Gabe felt a pang of sorrow for this man involved in a war where regardless of who won his station in life would differ but little.
"Lum."
"Yes, suh."
"You do not have to fight this battle. You can go below until it's over."
"You's going to fight ain't ya, Mister Gabe?"
"Aye, Lum, that I am, but it's my duty."
"Well suh, it's my duty to watch over you like I done promised Missy Faith I'd do. So we's both got our duties to do."
Gabe knew it would be pointless to try to dissuade the man farther. He instead turned to Dagan, "Help Lum pick out a good weapon."
"Aye," Dagan replied. Then as the two walked off Gabe had another thought.
"Lum."
"Yes, suh?"
"We aren't fighting masters, plantation overseers or white men, we're fighting the enemy, do you understand that? A man's color doesn't matter."
"Yes suh, I understand, it's kill or be kilt." After Lum and Dagan went to collect weapons for themselves, Gabe approached Markham. " Frances, what would you have me do? I'm at your disposal." Despairingly Markham shook his head, "It's a fool's errand Gabe. How can we do anything but make a gesture. However, we've been in worse shapes haven't we, old friend?"
"That we have," Gabe replied.
"I'm about to fire the forward guns then have the rest of the guns fire as we come abreast. The swivels are loaded with grape. I figure our only chance is to grapple and board. we'll never stand a chance against twenty twelve-pounders. I was going to send Harrel forward and I was going to position my party amidships.
If you're bound to get yourself shot at you can take a party aft. Hopeful y, we'll meet in the middle."
"We'll meet," Gabe responded and shook Markham 's hand, "Take care my friend, have a care."
"Take in the mainsail Mr. Harrel. Run up the colors Mr. Davy. Fire as you bear. Let's give them a taste of British steel."
Markham was right. The privateer was heavily armed and there was a score of men on deck. The forward gun went off and someone fired a swivel at the same time, a double percussion… BOOM! BANG!…startled Gabe.
Then one by one, Swan's remaining six guns fired.
However, the enemies' guns were not silent and with a thunderous crash a hole was blasted through forward, uplifting the number one gun which landed on its side crushing several crewmen. A gaping hole was now where a gun port had been. Shot after shot plowed into the Swan. Most however went high as consideration had not been taken to fact that Swan being a smaller ship set lower in the water. The starboard bulwark had taken a beating with only a few sections left standing.