Pirates and Prisoners Chapter 5 Trouble with Amateurs

[Jeff Thomas]

Chapter 5 Trouble with Amateurs

The sound of drums beating the crew to quarters woke Benjamin up from a sound sleep. He didn’t need trouble; they were only a day out of Savannah after leaving Siren to be sold. Although Benjamin didn’t expect much money, he engaged a broker to handle the sale and distribute most of the money to the prize crew. The rest (if any) would go into a bank account in Benjamin’s name. He hoped whatever was going on would not slow him down; he wanted to free his father.

But he was braced for trouble. The broker in Savannah had warned him that the sea was crowded with ships of all types. “Some,” he said, “are blockade runners trying to get past the RN patrols. Some are privateers, like yourself. Many of them are Royal warships trying to put you out of business. It will not be easy up there.” The man laughed and shook his head. “Too many people are doing what you’re doing, except they don’t understand the sea and don’t know how to fight. Amateurs.”

Benjamin heard men on deck yelling, and a few cursed as they ran to the guns or climbed into the fighting tops. He heard O’Reilly, the officer of the deck for the watch, barking orders. Something was up, and it didn’t sound like it would be something good.
He ran onto the quarterdeck, “What is it, Mr. O’Reilly?” O’Reilly didn’t say anything for a moment but merely pointed. It was hard to see into the rising sun, but Benjamin saw sails. Lots of them.

“Beggin’ your pardon Captain,” O’Reilly said with a smile, “I think this is a few too many ships to take all at once.”
“I agree,” Marcus added, “spread the job out.”

Benjamin swore under his breath. “Just get us out of here.”

The others stopped the banter. The boss wasn’t in the mood for it. Benjamin took another look at the enemy fleet. He saw at least one ship of the line, four frigates, and several armed merchant ships. This was not a fight he wanted to be in with Venus. The convoy swept south, probably making for English Harbor. Venus, flying a Dutch flag, sailed slightly east of north. Benjamin hoped they would look like an insignificant cargo ship bound from St. Eustatius to the Netherlands.

“What are those fools doing?” Garibaldi took his telescope from his eye and pointed. “There, astern of the warships, those two sloops.”
Benjamin lifted his telescope and took in the scene. Two or three miles behind the convoy’s main body, two small ships flying Virginia colors approached an armed merchant ship. As Benjamin watched, the other privateers opened fire on their target.

“It looks like we have some competition,” Benjamin said matter-of-factly. “At least until the Royal Navy blows them out of the water.”

“That won’t take long,” Marcus said, “that’s a frigate turning around.”

“Helm, three points to port if you please,” Benjamin ordered. “I hope we can convince them we want no part of that.”
Venus heeled slightly as she came to the new course. From two or three miles away, the boom of cannon fire reached Benjamin’s ears.
He shook his head, astounded; the captains of the two privateers thought trying to take a prize this close to its escorts was a promising idea. Even as he watched, the frigate opened fire at extreme range. The effect was immediate. The privateers tried to break off the action. Through his telescope, Benjamin saw men trying to reset the sails to meet the threat and escape.

“Amateurs,” Marcus said pointedly. “They are amateurs who thought they would get rich quick out here.”

“I suspect you are right. Meanwhile, they are making our lives difficult as well. Maintain our present course for an hour or two at least.
By then, it will be dark. Hopefully, that frigate won’t come looking for us.”

For an hour, as Venus slipped past the convoy, the frigate and a sloop of war closed with the privateers, which took a pounding from the professional crews. Then, as Benjamin watched, one of the two raiders struck his colors. Now, hopelessly outgunned, the other surrendered minutes later.

“They’ll be taking prisoners,” Benjamin said quietly, “like my father.”

“Don’t thrash yourself over events beyond your command.” Marcus answered, “We are doing everything possible.”
Benjamin sighed, “I know we are.” He turned away from the sight of the two sloops fighting a futile battle with the Royal Navy. “I know the crew wants to take prizes, but I want to pursue freeing my father. So I will turn command of this ship to you and take care of my business….”

“No!” The shout from the helmsman startled the officers on the quarterdeck. “I mean no offense,” the sailor continued, “I know it is not my place to interrupt you, but you should know most of us are with you.”

A dozen crewmen had gathered near the quarterdeck break to hear their leaders argue. Following the exclamation from the helmsman, several shouted their support. “Yes, let’s save your father.” “We can get him and prizes.” “If it were my father, I’d want to free him.”

Benjamin turned and walked to the railing to speak to his crew. But when he got there, he couldn’t speak, overwhelmed by his emotions. So finally, he nodded and thanked the men standing below him.

“Sir,” Cunningham said, “I’ll take her north at best speed. Let’s get on with this business.”

Benjamin nodded. “Thank you.”

*

Except for a worrisome wind, it was a perfect morning at sea. It was still hurricane season in the Indies, and the stiff breeze filling Venus’ sails could be the leading edge of a storm. But he didn’t want to delay the search for his father.

“Marcus, good morning. How was last night’s run?”

“Good, we are a thousand miles out of St. Eustatius and that much closer to your father. The crew is content. It’s a happy ship.”

Benjamin nodded, “No one upset that we’re not taking prizes?”

Marcus laughed. “Have you not noticed that we have company on this ocean?”

“We haven’t seen more than a hundred ships. It’s a big ocean. So what’s the problem?”

“It may be a big ocean, but they aren’t spread around it equally.” Marcus pointed over the larboard railing. “Case in point. Twenty nice fat merchantmen, loaded with what? Masts and spars from Northern Massachusetts, whale oil from Nantucket, and pigs, cattle, and chickens from all over. Just waiting for us to brush aside those two frigates and three sloops, pack up the loot, and head for Boston. Easy.”

Benjamin shook his head sadly. “Unfortunately, you are correct. The Royal Navy has figured out they can get through anything if they convoy. Privateers like us don’t stand a chance going up against professional fighters.”

Cunningham noticed the painful look on Benjamin’s face. His captain and friend were undoubtedly thinking about the fight that cost him his father, captured by a superior Royal fleet. He wanted to change the topic, but suddenly words failed him. Another one of his jokes was not what Benjamin needed. A call from the masthead saved him.

“Sail ho, fine on the bow.”

The two men looked over the ship’s bowsprit. “I can’t see it,” Marcus remarked as O’Reilly climbed to the quarterdeck.
Benjamin pulled his telescope, one of three on the ship, and focused it on the horizon. “I don’t see anything, but that’s why we have lookouts. If he’s fine on the bow, there isn’t anything to do but hold our course and close the range.”

“True. But if he is on a northerly course, it will be a long stern chase to catch him.”

Benjamin gave himself a mental kick. He had assumed the ship was coming south. By noon; he knew they were in for a long chase.
They had gained only a mile or two on the stranger, but they had nothing else to do.

“He doesn’t seem to notice we’re here, does he?” Marcus asked around midafternoon. Indeed, the other ship did not change course at all.

“He doesn’t,” Benjamin said, “From that, I deduce that he’s making for New York. If it’s a long chase, we may catch him before we put into Boston. Then we’ll still get home with a prize to sell. But an hour later, the ship suddenly showed interest in Venus. The wind had shifted, forcing Venus to tack. The other vessel suddenly turned and reefed his sails. Benjamin swore as the vessel ran up a Pennsylvania State Navy flag. “He’s another privateer.”

“No prize here,” Marcus remarked, “unless you want to go to work for the Royal Navy.”

“That’s not funny.”

Marcus looked sharply at Benjamin, who did not notice. His boss had lost his sense of humor. Eventually, they closed the range, and Benjamin could read the name on the ship’s stern. Suddenly Benjamin’s mood changed. “That is Franklin; he waved his hands over his head, then picked up his speaking trumpet.

“Wilson, this is Benjamin aboard Venus.”

“I know,” came the reply, “I noticed your sail plan when you changed tacks. Nothing else could be that ugly.”

“Thank you, your ship is lovely, too.”

As they had once before, close to their present location, they tied the ships together so Captains could talk. The news was terrible all the way around. “About a month ago,” Wilson said, “we fought a string of battles in Pennsylvania. They walloped us; General Washington had to leave Philadelphia. Royal soldiers command the capital.”

Benjamin nodded. “I hope my brother is safe. What is happening at sea?”

“It’s bad. There are privateers everywhere trying to do what you and I were doing a year ago. They organized convoys to protect their ships. They’ve brought over more ships; I almost tangled with a southbound fleet a few days ago. Could have been rough, but I gave ‘me the slip.”

“A ship of the line, four frigates, and some lighter ships?”

“Yes. You saw them as well?”

“I did. It sounds like it is becoming a hard way to make a living.” Benjamin thought for a minute before asking his next question. “Do you know if anyone has news of my father?”

“I do not.” It was Wilson’s turn to hesitate. “The Royals are using old warships in ordinary to house prisoners. Most of those ships are in New York.” He gently put a hand on Benjamin’s shoulder. “There are stories about harsh conditions on those ships. I am sorry.”

Benjamin nodded. There was nothing to say. A few minutes later, he was back aboard Venus. The two ships would make for Charles Town. They could take cargo north; it would provide enough money to pay something to the crew. After that, a plan would suggest itself.

*

“Captain Allen,” the ship’s boy said through the cabin door, “Mister Garibaldi’s compliments, and he has asked for you on the Quarterdeck.”

“Tell him I will be up directly.” The ship moved under his feet. Not a full gale but enough wind and water to make moving hazardous. Benjamin had not heard an alarm call, so it was not a man overboard. If Garibaldi thought he’d spotted a potential capture, there was nothing they could do with it in this weather. Benjamin pulled a boat cape over his clothes and headed for the deck. The wind whistled through the ship’s rigging, making it hard to talk.

“What is it?” Benjamin screamed into Garibaldi’s ear.

Garibaldi pointed at something off Venus’ larboard bow.

“ I don’t see anything.” But, then, he did see it, a raft. It appeared close to falling apart. Although Benjamin thought he could see a dozen bodies, there was no way to tell if any were still alive.

“He’s on the lee side; if we can get alongside, we may be able to bring survivors aboard. If there are any.”
Fifteen minutes later, Venus’s crewmen pulled five survivors off the broken remains of their ship. They were unable to recover seven dead. Benjamin had them taken to the cockpit where his surgeon’s mate could examine them, treat their injuries, and find out who they were.

They were four able seamen and a midshipman from the sloop HMS Tiger. Benjamin’s heart jumped in his chest. “I can exchange these men for my father,” he thought. He had them taken to a room where he could keep them under guard easily. He ordered that they be fed a warm meal and given dry clothing from the slop chest. “I want them in good shape when we get to Boston.”

“Do you think that will help you free your father?” Garibaldi asked.

Benjamin shrugged. “Can’t hurt. Let’s get to Boston.”


Book one of The Privateer series now for sale on Amazon
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