Pirates and Prisoners Chapter 14 Trapped

[Jeff Thomas]

Caitlin sensed a change in Captain Bedford’s attitude toward her after that terrible night, fighting to stay afloat. Before the storm, he had been friendly but respectful; unlike other men she’d met on this voyage, he did not attempt to force himself on her. He also made it clear to his crew that they needed to leave her and Tabitha alone.
Now she saw him giving her sidelong looks when he didn’t think she was watching. She assumed he had decided the two women were running from the law. Or he thought they had business of some sort with the rebellious military in Massachusetts, which of course, was not far off the truth. But the look in his eyes was distrust, not lust.

She worried that he planned to turn them over to loyalists in New York. If that happened, this long chase from the Caribbean would go for nothing. She began to think of jumping ship at the next port. Then she realized she didn’t even know if there was a port between here and New York.

Tabitha, carefully projecting her disguise as a servant, walked up with Caitlin’s breakfast. The square wooden plate held some biscuits, dried fruit, and a large mug of cider to soak the biscuits. “Here you go, Miss Caitlin; it’s not the best, but it will keep you going.

“Thank you.” Caitlin looked around; all the men were busy with their tasks, repairing the ship. “We must make plans,” she whispered. “After we eat, I will meet you in our cabin and talk.”

“Yes, Miss Caitlin.” Tabitha whispered, then said, “I will return for the plate and mug shortly.”

Caitlin looked at Captain Bedford on the quarter-deck studying a ship through his telescope. Whatever he was looking at occupied all his attention. Other crew members all went about their tasks without acknowledging her presence. Instead of taking this as evidence that her thoughts about Bedford were wrong, she decided the men must have orders to avoid eye contact.

She walked to the starboard railing directly below Bedford’s position. “I think, he said to his second in command, “they are both warships. That storm wasn’t good for them; they both look like they’ve been in a battle.”

The other man said something she couldn’t hear.

“Well, we shall continue toward New York. We will put in and make repairs if we find an open port. If not, there’s nothing for it but to go to New York.”

Caitlin put her hand to her mouth, suppressing a gasp. How could they escape? Tabitha was subject to possible confiscation and sale at the slave market; they might arrest Caitlin for harboring a fugitive slave. What was she to do?

She looked out toward the sea. With a cold knot in her stomach, she realized that there was nothing she could do.

*

“What ship is that?” Goodewell stood behind Phillips and looked over his shoulder as the captain tried to identify the vessel off the starboard bow. Both ships held southward courses, the stranger several miles ahead.

“I can’t see a name, or at least I can’t see it well enough to make it out. Nor can I see the figurehead.”

Behind them, they heard the helmsman laugh. “Beg your pardon, sir,” he said hastily, not wanting to get in trouble.

“You’re pardoned. I guess you have heard some rumors about our quarry’s figurehead?”

“Some of the men say it is, uh, entertaining.”

“You’re being polite. The Commodore told me it is obscene.”

“Leave it to the rabble ashore to do something tasteless,” Goodewell added.

Overhead the sound of saws, hammers, and chisels blended into a cacophony of repair work. It looked like utter chaos. Ripped sails hung from broken spars. The biggest problem was the loss of the bowsprit; without heads’ls maneuvering the ship was nearly impossible.

“The men are doing the best they can.”

“I know that Goodewell and I appreciate their hard work. Pass the word, a double portion of grog tonight.”

“Yes, sir.”

Goodewell stood nervously behind Phillips, not sure what to say or do. Finally, he broke the silence. “Is that the ship we’re looking for?”

“Not sure. No way to tell by looking at it from this angle. But there is something strange about her rig. But he has taken damage to his stern and mizzen mast. That is the most identifiable feature of the ship.”

“Right.”

“Damn Admiralty,” Phillips thought, “Damn officers. Damn bureaucrats. How am I supposed to find one ship on the open seas?”

How many times had he had this argument with himself? It was pointless. He took another long look through his telescope. He didn’t learn a thing from what he saw.

*

The men were doing their best on a challenging job. Benjamin occupied his favorite space, leaning against the starboard side of the quarter-deck railing. From this spot, he could look down at the ship’s length and observe the state of repairs. Harrowstone, who had lately taken to acting as his personal assistant, walked up with a wooden mug. He set it between two belaying pins, where it would stay upright; Harrowstone mumbled something incomprehensible and walked away.

Benjamin picked up the mug and sniffed the contents. “Coffee. Good.”
“I wish the crew would show me favors like that,” O’Reilly lamented, “now I have to find coffee for myself.”

“Don’t strain yourself.”

Garibaldi climbed the step ladder to the quarter deck, holding his mug. Benjamin sipped the drink and made a face at the bitter drink. “I don’t know why I drink this stuff.” “Did you think to bring me some sugar for my coffee?”

“At home, in my country,” Garibaldi said with mock authority, “sugar in coffee is for children.”

“Beggin’ everyone’s pardon but is anybody watching yonder ship.” He pointed at the royal warship trailing them off the port quarter.

“I have,” Benjamin answered “he looks like he’s been shot up in battle. Not that we look much better.”

“Sail ho!”

“Where away?”

“Broad on the port beam.”

Benjamin and his three officers stepped to the port rail and scanned the eastern
horizon. “I can not see a thing.”

“Sky is …I do not have the English word,” Garibaldi said, “hard to see.”

“Yes, it’s murky from that storm. O’Reilly, send a ship’s boy up the mast with a message; they will keep an eye on that vessel and let us know what he does. Until this mist close to the water disperses, we’re blind.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Garibaldi?”

“Sir?”

“Get the Mizzen mast fixed; we can’t afford to get caught in this condition.”

“I’ll get on it right now.”

Benjamin looked again at the ship astern. “So, is the newcomer my friend or yours?” He did not relish the idea of fighting off attackers from two directions. O’Reilly had done
excellent work fighting both sides of the ship, but that performance might not be repeated. He needed to get to a friendly port and repair Venus properly. Unfortunately, he had to traverse some distinctly unfriendly seas to reach safety.

“Helmsman, a point to starboard if you please.” He hoped the small course change would go unnoticed, at least temporarily. He might avoid fighting if he could slip between the ship on his bow and the mainland. The other nearby ships had him boxed in, and he had to consider all of them potentially hostile.

“You worry too much.”

Benjamin turned at the words. “Mr. Cunningham, what are you doing on deck? You should be below recovering from your ailment.”

“Somebody has to tell you to stop worrying.”

“And your contribution to this treatment is to give me more to worry about? You look half dead already.” For a second, Benjamin thought Cunningham would fall to the deck. He swayed and steadied himself with a hand on the rail.

“Sir, we’re in a tight spot here; let me help.” He swayed again. “Sir, don’t order me to stand aside. I’m just a bit light-headed; the surgeon bled me. It does that, you know.”

“So, I’ve heard.” Benjamin saw the pleading look on Cunningham’s face. “Oh, all right.
Sit up here and keep an eye on these ships around us. I want to keep on a course that will take us to the mainland without being obvious about it.”

“Understood.”

“And get somebody to bring you a chair. You can’t help us if you fall overboard or something equally stupid. You have been sick for three days at least. No heroics.”

“Right.”

“Beggin’ your pardon sir…”

“What is it, Mr. O’Reilly?”

The Irishman nodded toward a team dragging a spar from the waist to the mizzen mast.
“I’m worried about Carver, sir. He keeps trying to stir the men up. I’ve cautioned him more than once. He’s trouble, that one.”

Benjamin sighed deeply. “I know; what’s he done this time.”

It’s not what he does but what he says. Last night he told people that you did not know how to get the ship through the storm. I was going to wait until a better time to say to you, but I just heard him starting in again. We can’t have that.”

“Agreed, thank you. We will keep an eye, and ear, on him.”

“Ahoy, on deck.”

“Now what?” Benjamin thought aloud. He called to the lookout to report what he saw.

“Unidentified ship ahead is turning to seaward. Still no colors visible.”

“Looks like he’s trying to get between us and the open sea. Even with all of us beat up by the storm, he may corner us between himself and the mainland.” Cunningham said quietly.

“That’s what I think, too,” Benjamin said quietly. “But if we can get past him, we may have enough sea room to escape.” Both men knew they didn’t want the crew stirred up.

“Look,” Cunningham pointed suddenly, “we can see land.”

Benjamin looked to starboard; it was confirmed that the clouds had lifted. Below them,
a white line of breaking waves marked the shore. Benjamin guessed the surf was only two miles away. That didn’t leave him with much room. He turned to the left, examining the ship approaching from the east.

“I wish I knew what ship that is.”

“Until we can identify it, we must treat it as an enemy.”

“Of course.”

He looked over the bow to see the ship crossing his course from starboard to port. The ship was dead ahead and had the weather gauge. Venus was not going to get out of the trap she was in without a fight. Fortunately, Benjamin believed it was probably a sloop of war with only about twenty guns.

He took another look at the ship approaching from the sea. Something looked familiar, but he couldn’t place it. A ship’s boy scampered up and saluted Benjamin. “Mr. Garibaldi’s compliments, and he reports the repairs to the mizzen mast and rigging are sufficiently complete to make port.”

“Thank you.” Benjamin took a deep breath, “beat to quarters. We must be ready to fight.” The drums started to beat out the summons to the crew.

A ship’s boy ran to the quarter deck and shot up the ladder without seeming to touch it.
“Slow down there, lad,” Benjamin said with a smile, “if you fall and knock yourself out, you won’t be able to pass along your message.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy saluted and spoke excitedly. “Bow lookout says the ship ahead of us has turned to attack downwind. He will be within range in minutes.”

“Thank you.” He turned to face the officers. “Gentlemen, to your stations, you know
what to do.”

[jemhouston]

Wheels within wheels.