Upon searching the ketch’s storerooms, it was found she carried several barrels of spirits. When Anthony made his way to where the barrels were being “inspected,” he found the master had already broached a cask of wine, which he proclaimed far superior to Drakkar’s wardroom stores. Upon such a proclamation, Anthony had no choice but to order the bung replaced and have it made “ship’s stores.” He also eyed Silas, who-knowing his master-nodded his acknowledgment. Thus a cask was sure to become a part of the commodore’s supplies. Several barrels of Jamaican rum were also found. Anthony ordered a barrel to each ship, and the rest poured into the scuppers. Bart was seen shaking his head, muttering what a sad day it was. The bosun voiced his agreement. “It would’ve been a man-sized job, sir. But I reck’n with Bart, Dagan, and a couple of me mates to ‘elp, we could’ve disposed of it proper like. No use in supplying ole King Neptune, me thinks.”
Anthony now had nearly a hundred pirates as prisoners scattered throughout his flotilla. He had also sent many of his crew back on prizes they had taken. Considering this, he decided it was time to return to English Harbour. He had given the ketch, Shark, to Gabe, but warned him it was as prizemaster only for now. Once he’d got back on Drakkar the master warned, “I just looked at the barometer and I believe we’re in for a squall.” Anthony ordered Buck to make ready for the approaching bad weather. Anthony never questioned Peckham on such subjects. Truth be known, he had an achy feeling too, and felt they may be in for a blow. Without being told, Buck signaled the other ships to prepare for bad weather.
“I don’t mean to tell them their jobs, but they don’t know it all yet,” Buck said by way of explaining the signals. Anthony, without realizing, had turned over more and more of the ship handling to Buck. He needs the experience for when he makes post, Anthony had said to himself.
Taking a look around, Anthony could see Shark off to starboard. Rascal was further astern but in sight, and was to starboard as well. LeFoxxe and LeCroix were forward and larboard. The squall hit suddenly and viciously as the master predicted. For several minutes the wind had such force that Anthony was concerned about the ship being taken aback by the wind. During this time he could hear the wind whipping through the rigging. Then the wind veered and the sails made a loud flopping sound. Then everything was calm. It was hard to imagine the squall had come and gone in under a half an hour. The watch on deck was soaking wet where they’d been pelted by the rain. Looking aloft for any damage, Anthony sensed the master as he sidled up to him.
“She be intact,” Peckham said.
At that time, the lookout who had rode out the squall at his station called down, “Deck there. Signal from Shark. Large ship attacking Rascal.” Anthony whirled toward the master and Buck. Peckham volunteered, “The wind has veered with the squall taking any sound with it.”
Buck looked questioningly at Anthony, “Wear ship and beat to quarters?”
“Aye,” Anthony replied, a sense of urgency in his voice, “But it’ll be over before we get there. Signal Shark to keep lookout, but not to close with the enemy. Then signal LeFoxxe and LeCroix to take station on Drakkar. No use sacrificing them.”
The experience and training of the crew now showed. Drakkar had come quickly about, and under full sail was beating down on Rascal. They were already reaching on Shark.
Now that Rascal was in sight, Anthony could see she was engulfed in smoke. The helpless schooner appeared dead in the water. Even at this distance, the damage was obvious. The attacking ship was big all right-as large as Drakkar, or maybe even bigger And she was painted black. The smoke was drifting and Anthony could see his foe clearly.
“Even her sails are black,” Buck said. “Just like what that poor sod we plucked from the ocean told us.” The lookout called down again, “The ship is tacking, sir, and appears to be opening her larboard gun ports.” Buck caught Anthony looking up and volunteered, “She’s carrying every scrap of sail we got, sir.” Even as he spoke the pirate ship had closed with Rascal and was ready to let loose another broadside.
Anthony ordered Buck, “Fire the bow chasers!”
“Sir?” Buck looked surprised, not sure he’d heard right.
“Fire the damned gins!” Anthony snapped.
No sooner had the order been repeated than the long nines let loose. It suddenly dawned on Buck that Anthony was trying to attract attention to Drakkar, and away from Rascal. The realization caused him to he embarrassed that he hadn’t immediately understood Anthony’s actions.
Ignoring Drakkar’s bow chasers, the black ship let loose a salvo on Rascal. The salvo was ragged, but very effective. Every gun appeared to hit its target. Rascal’s foremast was over the side; the main mast was leaning and might fall. The bowsprit was intact, but the jib and fore-staysail, along with most of the rigging, were hanging in the water, acting like a sea anchor. Great sections of the bulwark were blasted away. Guns were upturned, and a large section of the transom was destroyed.
Anthony had the gun crews continue firing the bow chaser several more times, but it was more to vent frustration than any chance of hitting anything. By the time Drakkar was up on Rascal, the black ship had run with the wind. Anthony was torn between giving chase and stopping to help Rascal. Anthony decided to heave to as the black ship had hauled her wind in the direction of the squall. The likelihood of overtaking the pirate vessel was remote. Once she caught tip with the squall, she could easily lose herself. Anthony’s decision to not give chase was also based on the fact that his crew had been largely depleted to man the prizes that had already been captured. To defend Rascal was one thing. However, to seek out and engage a fully manned pirate vessel the size of the black ship would be not only foolish, but also suicidal considering the large number of captured pirates already on board Drakkar. He’d get no thanks from the admiralty for having Drakkar taken by a bunch of damn cutthroats.
Boarding Rascal, Anthony could see the destruction and the horror the crew had faced from such an overwhelming foe. Men were lying on deck crushed by upturned guns and fallen spars. Some were groaning in agony, their bodies impaled with large splinters. Others were mercifully dead, so great were their wounds.
“Bloody sodomites,” Peckham had shouted, his blood boiling for a fight. “Poxxed bastard won’t stand and fight man to man. He has to go after a puppy.” The master’s sentiment was felt throughout.
The Rascal had been battered all right. Drakkar’s crew members continued to search through the wreckage for survivors among the dead. They lay scattered beneath the fragments of cordage, netting, broken timbers and general carnage.
A couple of petty officers had gathered some of the survivors in an area where the master’s cabin had been. Now all that remained of the raised area was a handful of splintered planks. Walking toward this area, Anthony noticed how a layer of smoke seemed to hang in the air a few inches above he deck. This, mixed with the haze left from the recent squall, gave Rascal’s deck an even more ghastly appearance. Reaching the area where the master’s cabin had been, Anthony found Pitts. He’d been laid out on a plank by one of the crew, who was trying to comfort the lieutenant until the surgeon arrived. Pitts had been shot in the chest, and a large splinter protruded from his groin. The surgeon arrived and did a quick exam. He looked at Anthony and shook his head. Pitts tried to sit up, but pain shot through him. Crying out, he fell back on the plank. One of the petty officers had taken a discarded coat and tried to fashion a pillow for him.