“‘Bout to bust, he is, with his newfound authority,” Peckham remarked to Anthony as soon as Pitts was out of hearing. “Better watch out Cap’n, or he’ll be admiral before you.”
“I’m sure,” Anthony replied. “I’m going down to change. No doubt the Admiral will signal before the anchor’s let go. Bart?”
“Here, Cap’n, I’m already preparing the gig, sir.”
Antigua was the Royal Navy’s headquarters and main base in the West Indies. As Gabe strode across the quarterdeck of the schooner LeCroix, he thought of his father. He had spent many an evening listening as the admiral had told stories and shared his memories of Antigua and the West Indies with Dagan and him. Hopefully, he’d have some to share when this commission was over.
The West Indies was a chain of islands on the eastern side of the Caribbean. These islands were full of natural harbors and inlets, making for the perfect lair of pirates and privateers. Therefore, opportunities for someone such as he should be abundant. Since Witz’s death, Gabe had been made acting fourth lieutenant. If luck held, he’d make lieutenant before too long. It was not unthinkable that once he made lieutenant he might even be given command of some little prize-like this schooner.
Thinking of “this little prize” made him think of Dagan. How much loot did he confiscate before letting anyone know it had been found? Better yet, where did he hide it? “For use in case of a cloudy day,” was all Dagan said, as he took a small chest and placed it aside before letting anyone know of their “find.” He had handed Gabe a large red ruby that had to be ten carats or more. “For luck,” Dagan had said. Gabe didn’t like keeping this from Anthony, but he didn’t want to say anything to hurt Dagan either.
Gabe fondled the gem in his coat pocket, and thought of the articles of war. He felt a chill run through him. “For luck,” Dagan had said. Well, he damn well hoped good luck was all that ever came of it.
Dagan approached and said, “Drakkar’s signaling.”
Gabe responded without even thinking, “Look alive men. The Admiral’s eyes are upon us. We don’t want him to liking us to a bunch of bum boatsmen.”
The winds had backed to the southeast. Drakkar was leaving a white wake in the blue sea. Even under reduced sail, she appeared a force with which to be reckoned. She glided into harbour, having completed the salute. The anchor had scarcely been loosened when the admiral’s signal “repair on board” had been hoisted. Anthony was proud of how well Bart had the gig’s crew turned out. Of course, he’d expected no different. Even Mr. Davy was turned out smart as a “bullock” on parade day. He had been brought along to carry dispatches. “Bloody worthless little shit ‘iffen you ask,” Bart had said. Anthony knew his comments were a ruse. Bart had taken to the young gentleman and had spent hours “educating” the lad. Even now he was explaining to Davy the age-old tradition of “the captain is last into the boat but first out.” Davy was listening to Bart, but couldn’t help but gawk at the flagship. He had thought Drakkar big, but the flagship was gigantic to the young mid.
Robert Harvey was flag captain of HMS Namur . She was small for a second rate-only ninety guns. However, she could still provide deadly force. Harvey met Anthony as he came on board shaking his hand even before honors had been completed. After pleasantries had been exchanged, the two talked captain to captain. “Sir Lawrence Finylson, rear admiral of the blue is our lord and master. He has tried very hard to deal with this pestilence of pirates and privateers. However, until you arrived, he had only one frigate-a small 28.
It’s a wonder she still floats, her hull is so wormy. We’ve lost a couple of brigs, and a hurricane damaged our one sloop so badly she will have to be completely overhauled. There’s little enough left to justify our admiral’s presence. He’s tried with what little resources we have, but Sir Lawrence is ill and grows tired. Now that you’re here, I expect he’ll haul down his flag so he can go back to England and enjoy what little time he has left.”
When Anthony was ushered into the admiral’s stateroom by the flag lieutenant, he was shocked. The man before him looked very tired and old. Yellow Jack had taken its toll on the old admiral.
“Ah, Gil, how are you? Have a seat.” The admiral then ordered the flag lieutenant to “fetch some ice.” As soon as the man had gone, the admiral jokingly remarked, “Soon as he gets back we’ll have a cool glass of refreshment, that is if he doesn’t get lost and let the ice melt before he returns.” Anthony had to smile. The admiral may be getting up in years, but he still maintained a good sense of humor.
“I’ve looked through the reports as you and Harvey were talking. Bad business with Lieutenant Witzenfeld. Demons, demons, I tell you. They take a man’s soul and torment him to the point of madness. Worse than with drink. I’ve seen it happen, right here on this island. Demons, pure and simple.
“Now about those damnable pirates.” The admiral had changed tack so quickly Anthony was momentarily confused. “It appears you dished ‘em up prim and proper. Wee bit of prize money and head money too. You’ll need those prizes, and so we’ll buy them into the service. Oh, before I forget. Did we get an accurate count on the value of the treasure?”
“Not yet sir. We’ve been rather busy,” answered Anthony.
“Well, get to it when you can.”
“Aye sir,” Anthony replied.
“A very lucky beginning for you, Gil. More than I’ve had in three years. I’ve decided to haul down my flag. I’m sending my request on the next packet. I’m also going to appoint you to commodore. Of course, the admiralty will have to confirm the appointment, but I don’t see any problem there. What say you? I was very sorry to hear about Lord McKean.” The admiral had changed tack again without even pausing or taking a deep breath. “He was a good man. They had no children, so that leaves Lady McKean alone and a prime catch, if I do say so. She was years younger than Lord McKean. You’re not married are you, Gil?”
“Er-no sir,” replied Anthony, somewhat taken aback by the admiral’s frankness.
Once back on Drakkar, Anthony’s officers were jubilant over the news of his being appointed commodore.
“Yer broad pendant, sir. It’s about time,” Buck said.
Anthony looked at his first lieutenant and said, “Yes, but it would have been better if I could have had a captain under me. You know you would have been my choice.”
“Aye, Cap’n, but don’t worry. White ball below the pennant or no, we’ll show ‘em. And when we’re through you’ll be flying your own flag, and that’s no error.”
Once the excitement over Anthony’s broad pennant subsided, he, Buck and the master discussed his findings on the flagship. “Those blackguards are no match for us on the open sea. However, once we’re sighted, they make for the closest island, cay, inlet, or reef where we can’t follow. According to Captain Harvey, we’ve lost two brigs. Laid their keels open on a reef trying to catch the cutthroats.”
“Amateurs,” snorted Peckham.
Anthony cut a glance at the old master. “Well, amateurs or not, we’ll need those two schooners to use, not unlike a terrier after a rabbit.”
“How will we man them, sir?” Buck asked.
“We can have the survivors off those brigs I mentioned. There’s still a few of them around. The rest, Mr. Buck, I leave up to you. I’ll expect recommendations on the morrow.”
Anthony then turned to the master. “See what you can find in the way of updated charts. I’m sure the locals will have more accurate ones than these,” Anthony said. Disgusted, he tossed his calipers on the charts laid across the table before him.
“Now I’ll leave these problems in your capable hands. I’ll see what the island has to offer in the way of officer’s uniforms on my way to meet the dock-yard commissioner.”