Pirates and Prisoners Chap 13 A Fiery Night Storm

[Jeff Thomas]

“Goodewell, can’t you do something about this weather?”

Goodewell noted the hint of laughter in Phillips’ voice and answered in kind.

“Weather, why on Earth would I want to change the weather? It’s a fine day, sir. I can see all the way to the bow. And this rain will keep the cook’s stove from setting the ship on fire.”

Both men were yelling as the wind ripped the words from their mouths, the drumming of buckets of rain falling out of the sky added to the noise. Siren wallowed in the waves, which lifted her up only to drop her into the troughs. Even some experienced sailors became sick in the heaving ship.

“Do you think you can get us to a port?” Phillips asked, dropping the aura of humor in a desperate situation. “I made you my first lieutenant because I knew I need your help for time such as this.”

“Sir, I believe I would need a healthy bit of good luck to find North America in this soup.”

“I was afraid you would tell me that. Well, we will do the best we can.”

“Of course.”

Phillips cursed the Admiralty for the stupid orders he had been handed as he left New York. They directed him to find and sink or capture a specific colonial privateer. They did not know the name of the ship with any certainty, nor that of its captain. Even the vessel’s description lacked useful details. “At least,” he thought, “wind and rain are natural events. The stupidity of bureaucrats exceeds understanding.”

This one ship was to be the focus of his voyage. The orders stated specifically that engaging other privateers was subordinate to the pursuit of this vessel. Privateers covered every sound, bay, cove, inlet, and estuary connected to the Atlantic Ocean.

Why not just tell him to destroy all those he found?

Could the rumors be true? New York had been rife with the story of a privateer that intercepted a convoy and managed to get away with a big piece of the payroll for the blockading fleet. That would explain why the Admiralty was having fits. It also fit with Commodore Bedford’s hints. And why, when he left New York as this storm was brewing up, he was told to ignore it and “go catch that damned pirate” by an assistant to Admiral Howe.

A flash of light, followed immediately by a boom of thunder brought him to the present. He looked up at the masts and rigging but saw nothing. He had Siren’s sails on a very short reef, anything else would be far too dangerous in this weather. For several seconds he saw nothing but spots, but his vision returned quickly. As he looked around another flash of lightning illuminated the clouds several miles away. For a moment he saw a ship silhouetted against the light. Then the vision was gone. The vessel’s sails were also reefed, but Phillips had an impression it was trying to work its way north. Siren’s bow plunged into a wave, sending a river of water over the deck. Phillips abandoned any thought of making an interception. Keeping his ship afloat would be sufficient for tonight.

As if to illustrate his point the sound of cracking wood seized his attention. A flash of lightning lit up the sky. Phillips could see the upper foremast falling to the deck. He couldn’t see anything but from the sound of an injured man he knew he had a last one wounded. The mast was not totally gone, but he could see Goodewell directing a team as they lashed a jib to what was left of the mast. It was not a handsome job, but it would preserve some ability to sail the ship.

“We’re in for a long night,” he thought.
*

“Halloo on deck.”

Benjamin looked up, he could barely see or hear the man, even though he was only a few feet above the deck. The weather was far too dangerous to station lookouts a loft. In any event they couldn’t see much through the storm. “Do you see something?” He yelled in response. The lookout’s reply was inaudible. Benjamin motioned for him to come down.

“Did you spot something?”

“Just for a moment. The lightening flashed and I saw a vessel.”

“Man of war? Merchantman?”

“Sorry sir, I could not tell.”

“I don’t expect you too. We will keep watch as best we can. We certainly won’t be taking prizes.” Benjamin examined the sails for a moment. “Stay on the deck, you can’t see and if you have any sense, you’ll be busy trying to stay on the ship. Send a ship’s boy forward, the watch on the fo’c’sle is to stay on deck and use the boy to relay messages. I’m concerned about getting hard up on a lee shore.”

“Yes sir.”

“Which way was the ship you saw going?”

“Difficult to say sir, north I think.”

“Let’s hope so, I don’t want to ram somebody in this mess.” He turned to the helmsman, “a point to larboard if you can. We need to put some distance between ourselves and land.”

Benjamin turned to Garibaldi, who had just arrived on the quarterdeck. “How is it below decks?”

“The men are working the pumps as best they can. We’re staying ahead of the water, but barely. Mr. O’Reilly supervising them. Mr. Cunningham is still ill but says he will come up if needed.” He looked out over the windswept water for a moment. “If we don’t stay offshore, these seas will beat us to pieces on the rocks.”

“I agree. Has the surgeon seen Mr. Cunningham?”

“Yes. He wants to bleed his patient when the storm abates enough to make that possible.” Garibaldi laughed. “I told Mr. Cunningham he was the perfect patient for our veterinarian.”

“He’s been a good doctor to us, maybe we are all animals.”

Lightening split the sky over their heads, accompanied by a deafening crack of thunder. For a second Benjamin thought he saw two ships, one astern and trying to travel north, another further out to sea and heading south like Venus. He turned to look again at the ship astern, he thought they would be driven aground by the elements, not that he could do anything about it. But the sight that greeted his eyes overwhelmed all other thoughts. “Look at that!”

*

“EEEEEEEEE”

Tabitha’s high screech was more than Caitlin could tolerate. The two women huddled in the dubious shelter of the poop deck, where they had moved when they became afraid the ship would capsize in the waves, trapping them. She didn’t understand what Tabitha was screaming about, the weather had started to abate in the last few minutes.

“Tabitha, stop that, you are not helping.”

Tabitha pointed into the air. “Look, it’s the devil, come to get us.”
Caitlin glanced up, then stood and stared at the ship’s sails and rigging. Every point on the masts and spars was tipped with a blue-white flame. Now it was her turn to scream.

“The ship is on fire.”

Incredulously, two seamen near her began laughing. If they were laughing the ship must not be in danger. “That is silly isn’t it. Everything is soaked, nothing on this ship can burn.” She looked up at the blue flames for a second before yelling at Tabitha,

“Stop screaming.”

Tabitha stopped screaming, but immediately dropped to her knees and started praying. “Lord, save us from the works of the devil….” She then switched to wait Caitlin presumed was her native language. The two sailors continued to laugh.

“What?”

One of the men pointed up at the lights. “St. Elmo protects sailors; the lights tell us he’s here. All well be fine.”

The other sailor pointed at Tabitha, “It will be better if you can put a stopper in your servant.”

“I am not sure I can do that.”

The men made rude comments, Caitlin reached under her cloak and gripped the handle of the dagger she kept concealed. But before they could act on their ideas a ship’s officer yelled at them to get back to their jobs before the vessel sank.

As the sky gradually changed from black to grey the sea grew calmer. The ship wallowed uncomfortably as the crew struggled with the sails. No other ships could be seen.

“Miss Caitlin.”

“Yes Tabitha.”

“I am sorry for last night. My courage failed when the blue flames started.” She shook her head ruefully. “I have not prayed like that since I was a child.”

“I was frightened, too. I will be glad to set my feet back on dry land.”

“Perhaps we will find your Captain Allen.”

Caitlin looked around hastily, anger showing on her face. “Don’t mention that name.

I’m still not sure which side these men are on. I don’t want to end up in prison. Do not mention that name aloud again.”

“Yes Miss Caitlin.”

Tabitha hung her head and looked at the deck. Caitlin forced herself to soften her anger. “Please understand, I’m not angry with you, I’m just afraid some small slip will land us in trouble.”

“Yes Miss Caitlin.”

*

The morning sky gradually grew brighter, although the lifting clouds continued to block the sun. Benjamin could see three other ships. One was far to the north and sailing north. A small two masted coaster was anchored in a small cove to Starboard. He was no doubt waiting for better conditions and was in no condition to brave the remains of the storm.

The nearest was a mile off the port quarter, astern seaward from Venus. Benjamin was certain it was a warship, most likely English, although he did not recognize the ship’s flag.

He heard a noise behind him and turned to see who it was. “Mr. O’Reilly, is the ship sound?”

“Indeed yes. The men working the pumps have a good part of the water back where it belongs.”

“And Mr. Cunningham?”

“The doctor bled him a short time ago. Mr. Cunningham says he’s comfortable and feels like he just had a good tot of rum.”

“That should make him happy.” Benjamin bit his lip, Cunningham’s illness made him worry about his family, as certainly his lieutenant had fallen victim to the fever that was sweeping through Boston. He handed his telescope to the Irishman and pointed to the ship behind them. “What flag is he flying?”

O’Reilly took the instrument and studied the other vessel. “That can’t be right,” he mumbled, speaking to himself. After another half minute of observation, he handed the telescope back to Benjamin. “Danish.”

“That’s absurd, why would a Dane be here.”
O’Reilly shrugged. “You asked me to identify the flag. Why he’s here is your problem not mine.”

“Ah, Mr. Garibaldi, good morning.” Benjamin said as Garibaldi stepped on the quarterdeck.

“Good morning to you, sir.

“Take this telescope and identify that ship, for me. Or at least the flag.”
Garibaldi took a fast look at the other vessel. “Danish,” he said with finality.

“Are you sure?”

“Well, Mr. O’Reilly says that’s what it is.”

The two men laughed.

“Go ahead, laugh, when Cunningham is recovered, I will keel-haul both of you.” He waved toward the deck, which was covered in assorted junk and debris from the storm. “Work the crew as fast as we can. I’m not in a hurry to get in a fight, but I want to be ready if one finds us. Right now, we couldn’t fight your grandmother.”


"The Privateer" and other naval fiction by Jeff Thomas can be purchased at
https://www.jeffthomasbooks.net/books

[Nathan45]

Nice!