A thorough search was made of the ship, resulting in Mr. Markham’s find. “Sir, we’ve found some very official looking papers. They’re written in French. There’s also a small chest with specie and one with a few gems and the like, such as a lady would wear.”
Anthony followed Markham down to the pirate captain’s cabin and was surprised but glad to see the midshipman had taken the initiative to put a marine guard at the door. There were several letters as Markham had mentioned. Anthony could only make out a few words here and there as the letters were soiled with food and drink; however, one letter appeared to be talking about a fifty-gun frigate. It also contained a page that was better cared for than the rest and it was filled with dates in one column and numbers in another column.
Markham volunteered, “It appears like code, sir, for a rendezvous on certain dates-but where? I think the number represents a location.” Anthony agreed with Markham ’s assessment.
“Look here, sir,” Markham had picked up another paper. At the top was the word “Reaper.” Then under one column was 27-28 June and across from it in another column the single digit “six.” A very valuable clue and a very simple code, but without more information it would be impossible to break.
Anthony turned to a bosun’s mate close by. “My compliments to Lieutenant Dunn. Ask him to have that French speaking prisoner in the navy coat brought up on deck and held by Drakkar’s main mast.”
“Aye, sir,” then the sailor was gone.
“Do you speak French, Mr. Markham?” Anthony asked.
“Only a little, sir.”
“It will have to do. I don’t want the prisoner to know that I do, so you will act as my interpreter.”
“Aye, sir.”
Once Anthony and his accompanying officers got back on Drakkar he found Lieutenant Dunn had the pirate trussed up and under guard.
“Mr. Buck.”
“Aye sir.”
“Assemble the crew to witness punishment.”
Buck looked at Anthony somewhat bewildered. “Punishment, sir?”
“Yes, Mr. Buck, a hanging,” Anthony replied, certain that the French pirate understood more English than he let on. Well, he could think on that.
“A hanging, sir?” Buck questioned.
“Yes, dammit, a hanging,” Anthony snapped. “Here or Antigua makes no difference. His fate was sealed when they attacked the merchantman. Lieutenant Mainard!”
“Yes, sir,” Mainard replied. He was pondering the pirate’s hanging when his name was called suddenly.
“Loosen your grapnels and go check on the vessel the rogues were having at and take the surgeon with you.”
“Aye, sir.” Then Mainard left to do his bidding, somewhat relieved that he was being sent on an errand and wouldn’t have to witness the hanging.
Anthony then turned back to Buck. “Carry on with the business at hand.”
“Yes, sir,” was all Buck could manage. The order was given and the drums started to roll. A rope was thrown over the yardarm, a hangman’s noose already fashioned at the end of it.
The pirate collapsed into a heap on the deck. Two of Dunn’s marines were trying to lift the whimpering man but he refused to stand. Anthony nodded and the marines let go. The prisoner hit the deck with a thud. “S’il-vous-plait, monsieur!” the pathetic man begged, reaching out with his arm to Anthony. Tears streamed down his face causing streaks in the grime from the recent battle.
“Donnez moi une chance,” he cried. The man’s actions were disgusting to the hardened sailors who had seen the red flag flying from the pirate’s mast, not to mention the torn and mutilated bodies the pirates had left in their wake. The cries for mercy fell on deaf ears.
“Gawd ‘e makes me sick to me stomach,” a voice in the crowd spoke as the pirate whimpered and crawled in a semi circle.
“Hang the bugger, cap’n,” another voice in the crowd said.
“Silence!” Buck ordered.
Anthony, Buck, Gabe, and Lieutenant Dunn all stood before the man. The marines continued to hold him up as Anthony spoke to him. “Do you understand English?”
“Oui, monsieur.”
“Are you a French officer?”
“Non, monsieur.”
“Then why are you wearing a French naval officer’s coat?”
“It was, how do you say…plunder.” He muttered some more comments, which couldn’t be understood.
Markham volunteered, “I think he’s trying to tell us he took it from someone’s things after the man had been killed.”
Still not letting on he could understand the man’s pleas Anthony spoke to Markham, “Well, tell him I think he’s a lying son of a cur dog and that I’m holding him responsible for that ship over there.” He pointed to the ship that had been the pirate’s prey.
“Tell him he’s been caught in the act of piracy. There’s no doubt of his guilt and the penalty is death.”
The Frenchman understood enough of what was said such that he’d started his begging and pleading even before Markham could translate.
Disgusted, Anthony ordered, “String him up!”
Lieutenant Dunn nodded to his sergeant who stepped forward, placed the noose around the pirate’s neck, and tightened it. Once the sergeant was satisfied, he stepped back and looked at Lieutenant Dunn, who in turn looked to Anthony.
Anthony nodded and lieutenant Dunn ordered, “Haul him up.” A group of marines started pulling on the rope. The French pirate’s cries were cut off as the rope bit into the flesh, cutting off the man’s air. As he was lifted off the deck, his feet started kicking the air and his body started to sway. The onlookers were stoic. Most had never witnessed a hanging and were aghast.
“Avast hauling, let him down,” Anthony ordered. The rope was turned loose and the pirate thudded as he hit the deck, gasping for air. The marine sergeant loosened the noose and the pirate started to breathe. Anthony looked at Markham, “Tell him that was my only warning. Next time he’ll hang till the gulls have pecked his eyes out.” Markham repeated Anthony’s comments.
“Now ask him who commanded his vessel.”
The pirate answered quickly, “Capitaine Allemand.”
“Where is he now?”
“Dead. He was shot as your men boarded.”
“Is the Reaper a French ship-a frigate?”
“She is big but not as big as some. She is similar to this ship and she has fifty cannons. Her capitaine is French like I am.”
“But is the ship French?” The pirate shrugged and stated, “She flies no flag. The men answer only to Capitaine Jabot.”
“When were you to rendezvous with the Reaper?”
The pirate looked frightened and could only shrug. Angered, Anthony ordered, “Haul him up.”
“Please,” the man begged before the noose could tighten. “Only Capitaine Allemand knew. He kept his papers locked up and no one else knew what they contained. Please, Monsieur.”
After further questioning, Anthony found out the man had signed on at Martinique a few months back. However no more useful information could be gained.
His was a damned difficult job. From Falmouth to Barbados was forty-two hundred miles and near ‘bout that many from Jamaica to Falmouth. A lot of ocean to cover. However, it seemed that all the attacks were taking place within a day’s sailing from islands of the West Indies. What did this mean? They would need bases to supply themselves and to trade their ill-gotten goods. The key had to be the rendezvous areas.
LeCroix had closed with the merchant vessel. She was a small snow with a crew of mostly islanders. The pirates had turned everything upside down. Most of the officers and crew had been killed and tossed overboard by the pirates. Sharks were in frenzy around the helpless ship. The surgeon reported to Anthony, “Nothing much for me to do. Work for a chaplain maybe, but not for me.”
Lieutenant Mainard reported aboard Drakkar. “Papers say she’s outta St. Lucia, sir. With a name cross her stern like “New Haven” I would assume she belongs to a colonial.”