He had some money in hand, too, for those pleasures of their port stays, for Parrot had been lucky with prizes, though taking ships was not their primary purpose. But they had come upon a Spanish packet brig in the Straits of Florida after a gale, and took her without a shot being fired since she was still repairing damage and could offer no resistance.
On passage to St. Lucia they had run into a native lugger that was manned by a crazed pack of Creoles, Spaniards and poor French who were intent on a little practical piracy. Without a letter of marque, they were totally illegal. The leaders were later hanged, the lugger sold, and the blacks sold at auction, plus the “Head and Gun Money” from taking her.
They were chased once by a big privateer, and had the good fortune first of all to outrun her in a long stern chase, and the even greater fortune to run across an English frigate off Anegada, which promptly went to Quarters and took the privateer. Since they were the only other naval vessel in sight they shared in her prize money.
Altogether, Lewrie had accrued nearly 160 pounds, or at least, Prize Court certificates for that amount, which he could sell off to a jobber for at least half their true value, or hold on to the largest until he returned to London, where he could be paid off.
Had someone forced Lewrie to delve into the reasons for a certain smug look of satisfaction on his face, he could discover that he was well fed, had access to a goodly supply of decent drink, got enough sleep, was being treated like a real person without being shouted at, could play with God’s own amount of artillery, and what amounted to a yacht, and never went more than a fortnight without a chance to get beastly with all the willing mutton within reach.
Chapter 8
“Stand by, the anchor party,” Claghorne yelled through a brass speaking trumpet from the afterdeck by the tiller.
“Aye aye,” Lewrie replied, raising his fist in the air. Parrot ghosted along in light air inside the harbor, barely raising a ripple under her bows since they had passed the forts on the Palisades. They had handed all but the outer flying jib and mainsail.
“Helm’s alee.” The tiller was put over and Parrot rounded up slowly into the light ocean breeze until her sails shivered, and her forward progress came to a halt.
“Let go!”
Lewrie lowered his arm briskly, and the best bower anchor was cast loose, and cable rumbled out the hawsehole. “Loose the outer jib halyard and lower away handsomely,” he ordered. Parrot coasted on for a piece until, reaching the end of the anchor cable, she veered out. She snubbed, then drifted back slantwise for a way before streaming back from the cable with the light wind straight down her decks.
By the time the sails had been handed and furled, the gig had been brought round from being towed astern, and Purnell and his boat crew had tumbled into it, ready to carry Lieutenant Kenyon ashore with his bags of mail and despatches. They had made good time from English Harbor to Kingston, Jamaica, this passage. The weather had been sparkling clear and mildly sunny, and they had not seen one other sail.
The bumboats began to swarm Parrot almost before Lieutenant Kenyon was away from the side, the island blacks offering up tropical birds, rum, fresh fruits, cheap shirts and hats and neckerchiefs, and women of just about every color. Mooney and his mates were busy trying to fend them off good-naturedly and to stop any furtive trading for rum or other liquors.
“Not yet,” Mooney shouted down to a piratical black entrepreneur. “’N’ keep yer cussed rum fer other ships, ya hear?”
“De boh-sohn, he wan’ no rum, Lord,” the man grinned back. “Dis be de King’s Navy heuh?”
“Sheer off, ya shark. We might be outa Discipline later, but not now.”
“Then I see you later, Mistah Boh-sohn,” the woman in the trader’s boat promised, sliding her dress up to her waist.
“Gawd.” Mooney gawped, staring at what was offered.
Lewrie was standing at his side, and marvelling right along with him.
Mooney licked his lips in anticipation and dug into his slop trousers to see what silver he had to offer the woman if she was let aboard.
Kenyon returned about two hours later after his visit to the flag, looking happy and sated from a good lunch and a bottle of wine. He was in a very good mood, beaming at everyone.
“Mister Lewrie, summon ‘Chips,’” he said. “I shall need him.”
“Aye aye, sir. Pass the word for Mister Bee.”
Within moments the elderly carpenter was there.
“Mister Bee, we shall be carrying passengers to Antiqua, a lord and his lady, and two servants,” Kenyon informed him. “Arrange me some sleeping accommodations in the dining space. We shall shift all the furnishings to the day cabin, and I shall need a larger bed box in the cabin as well. There will be a maid berthing in the chart room, and a servant in the wardroom. Mister Lewrie, since your ears have grown long enough to hear, perhaps you could give up your cabin for the duration of the voyage?”
“Aye, sir,” Lewrie replied sadly. “I shall fetch a hammock from the bosun.”
“Have everything ready by Wednesday sundown, Mister Bee.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Mister Purnell,” Kenyon shouted. “Take the cutter ashore with Mister Leonard to collect fresh supplies. We’ll get a bullock for the men, plus some fresh meat for our passengers. Mister Claghorne?”
“Aye, sir.”
“As soon as stores are aboard, we shall take the ship Out of Discipline for a day. We cannot depart until Thursday.”
The hands standing closest by grinned happily and spread the word through the rest of the crew within seconds. They had all lately been given pay-certificates, and even though they would get cheated badly in transactions for perhaps a quarter of their certificates’ worth, they would have money to spend for their pleasure. So they turned to with a lusty will. The boat fairly flew across the harbor to the stores dock and returned laden in short order. A bawling lean steer was slung aboard and slaughtered on the spot. A coop full of chickens appeared, several tender piglets and lambs, a boar for the hands later in the voyage, fresh cabin stores for Kenyon and the wardroom, and several crates of wine. Hammering sounds could be heard aft as Kenyon’s request was fulfilled. George the servant and several of the West Indian ship’s boys busied themselves polishing and scouring the guest quarters so Parrot could make a favorable impression on whoever their prestigious passengers might be.
By the end of the Forenoon watch, the crew’s major work was done, and at a signal from Kenyon the pendant for easy discipline was hoisted, which brought the bumboats swarming back.
Mooney and Leonard stood by the entry port, along with the surgeon’s mate, to witness the exchange of certificates for cash, so that the men were not too badly cheated. They also made sure that drink did not make its way below decks in major quantities, though some smuggling of small bottles was inevitable. Lastly, the surgeon’s mate performed his duty of checking the boarding polls for the more obvious signs of the pox. He rejected several, turning away the oldest and most raddled whores. The crew did a good job of sorting as well, booing down the arrival of some women that Boggs could find no fault with.
“Wot a monkey-face, throw ’er back, somebody…”
“Oo shall ’ave this’n, then?” Mooney asked.
“Nobody,” several men sneered loudly.
“On yer way, twickle-bum.”
“Yair, go fook a Marine!” someone laughed.