“I agree,” Anthony said. “Is she ready to sail?”
“Aye, sir. The pirates were out for blood, not for destroying the ship.”
“We’ll leave her surviving crew on board. They’ll be more comfortable there than on Drakkar. Mr. Buck!”
“Aye, sir.”
“Put Gabe with a good master’s mate on board the snow and supplement its crew with a few of our men. He can take her hack to English Harbor.”
“Aye, sir,” Buck said, then hesitated. “I ‘ere, I thought I’d put Lieutenant Pitts on the Rascal.”
Anthony frowned, “Rascal!”
“Aye, sir. That’s the name of the schooner, the pirate’s vessel.”
“Oh yes,” Anthony answered, aggravated at his dullness. Trying to cover he said, “It’ll make Pitts’ dreams come true. You’ve likely doomed us all, Mr. Buck.”
Buck look puzzled, “How so, sir?”
Anthony smiled and replied, “Now that he’s got a taste of command, there’ll be no stopping Pitts. I’m sure he’ll make admiral before we do, as the master once predicted.”
Laughing, Buck said, “Could be, sir, could be.”
The return trip to Antigua was uneventful. One coastal vessel had been spotted but before Buck could call “hands to braces” it had scattered to a nearby island. Approaching English Harbour, Anthony could only guess at the impression the group would make as they headed toward their anchorage.
Drakkar had departed with the two schooners. Now instead of the three ships returning, Anthony rejoined with five. This would surely cause a stir. Breaking his reverie, the master called out to no one in particular, “Flagship has gone.”
Commodore Gardner was now the senior naval officer on station and Anthony was second. What a difference a few days made, Anthony thought. But his mind kept drifting to a little cottage on a hill and Lady Deborah.
Clearing his mind from thoughts of his mistress, Anthony realized several ships were at anchor that had not been present when Drakkar had sailed. A sloop of war, a brig, and the mail packet were all lying at anchor. Their captains, no doubt, were taking the time to enjoy the simple pleasures of the island, causing a pang of jealously in Anthony that he found surprising.
Chapter Nine
For the next several months things were quiet. Anthony was able to keep the schooner Rascal after she was “bought in,” but the snow was sent to England. Pitts was left in command, but he knew it was only temporary. Anthony was able to sign on most of the snow’s surviving hands. He was a little concerned about how the crew would react to the islanders. He’d never had a Negro on board his ship before. However, his concerns were for naught. The crew accepted the blacks well enough. They had been divided into two groups-the larger on board Rascal, and the other smaller group on LeCroix.
Anthony had also divided his squadron of “terriers,” as the master was so fond of calling them, into two groups. LeFoxxe and LeCroix went out in pairs. That was, Pitts being less experienced, would be under Drakkar’s watchful eye. By dividing his command into pairs, he could maintain a degree of safety and still patrol a greater area than would be possible if Drakkar was a lone ship. The pickings had been slim, however. Anthony enjoyed his forays ashore with Lady Deborah, but felt a growing need to be at sea. Out there he could possibly meet up with the Reaper, and put an end to the devil’s reign of terror. During one patrol, Pitt’s crew had picked up a poor man who had survived by clinging to a hatch cover after his ship was destroyed. The fellow was about done in from thirst, and half cooked by the sun. In his delirium, the man spoke of a great black ship with matching stygian sails. The ship just came out of the dawn, he said. The poor soul cried when he described how the ship was looted. To make for a more sinister situation, the pirates carried two screaming lady passengers away. He explained that after taking everything of value, the devil ship cast off, and then fired a whole broadside, completely destroying the little merchant ship.
Commodore Gardner had told Anthony that messages continued to trickle in of lost or missing ships. The schooners had picked up a couple of smaller coastal vessels for piracy. Pitts, on the schooner Rascal, had made the last capture. But all in all their work was futile, creating a greater sense of urgency and frustration for Anthony.
“The season is upon us,” explained Commodore Gardner. “Nobody wants to be caught in a hurricane, be he merchant or rogue. Therefore, there should be a break in the devilment.”
Anthony’s little flotilla found out first hand what the commodore had meant in late August. They had just rendezvoused off the windward island of St. Vincent on the Caribbean side when the storm began. Suddenly, the sea had become a deadly foe, as much an enemy as the pirates they were trying to apprehend. The master cursed as he was summoned from the wardroom by a concerned watch. However, the curse died on his lips as the storm had turned into a full gale. A master’s mate was already lashing down one of the helmsmen so he wouldn’t be washed overboard.
The master hurried to help lash down the other helmsman. “Four men-we need four men at the wheel to keep control,” Peckham ordered his mate.
The wind whipped the waves as they came crashing down over the bow, sending rivers of water surging down the deck, tearing at everything in its path. No sooner had one watch been dismissed before all hands were called to shorten sail or take down torn canvas. Anthony remained on deck during the entire ordeal. He had on his oilskins but was drenched, and due to the wind, somewhat chilled. He couldn’t help but worry not only about Drakkar, but also of Gabe and the others on the more fragile schooners.
Buck had been helping to free a blocked tackle when he lost his footing and was knocked into the scuppers as the raging water sluiced down the larboard side. He found himself being hauled unceremoniously to his feet as huge hands grabbed the neck of his slicker and jerked him from the cascading torrent, setting him upright on deck.
McMorgan, the burly bosun, had been his rescuer. “Got ‘ya trained now, sir, so I don’t want to lose ‘ya and have to train another,” the big man had explained, smiling as he did so. Buck, bruised and half drowned, muttered, “Glad to hear you feel so, bosun. Glad I am to hear it.’
Anthony grew more concerned about the schooner. The seas were getting big and he was fearful of a rogue wave catching one of the fragile ships on one quarter and broaching her. The wind continued to increase and instead of coming from directly astern as it had been, it seemed to come from all directions.
“Can you see the schooners?” Peckham asked. The old master was unshaven and hollow-eyed. Even with his rotund belly he looked gaunt. Peering aft beyond the turbulent waves one of the schooners could he seen. But which one?
“She’s taken in everything but the foresail,” Buck yelled to make himself heard above the wind.
“Aye,” Peckham agreed. “And she looks like she may over reach us under bare sticks.”
The avalanche of water continued to crash against Drakkar’s bow, making the ship shudder and creating terror in the crew. They responded when called but fighting the storm sapped a man’s strength, making each maneuver a life or death struggle.
McMorgan could barely see, the wind stinging his eyes, as he reported to Anthony. “One of the forward cannons has tried to break away from its lashings, cap’n, but we’s doubled up on ‘em so’s she’s not likely to come adrift. There’s two feet or more ‘o water in the well but I got crews on the pumps and the water don’t appear to be gaining. I’ve taken me mates and checked below the waterline and so far we’s not sprung a plank!”