The Privateer Book 2 "Pirates and Prisoners" Chapter 1 Back at Sea

[Jeff Thomas]

I’m back!

I’ve been fighting various health issues and adjusting to retirement that kept me off my routine. I’ve grabbed the bull by the horns and plan to get some writing in front of my fellow naval fiction writers. So here is the first chapter of “The Privateer Book 2, Pirates and Prisoners.” I plan to post about a chapter a week. I hope you enjoy it, and please comment; I value the feedback. I can also be reached at JeffThomasBooks@gmail.com

Book 1, “The Privateer,” is available on Amazon in both print and Kindle versions. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09TDW84GD
This is a much-improved version of what I originally published here. A couple of characters have changed considerably.

The Privateer Book 2 “Pirates and Prisoners”
© Jeff Thomas
Chapter 1 Back at Sea

The two men met in a public house near the docks. He would have preferred somewhere away from the water, but such a place did not exist in Antigua. As they had hoped, it held few people and no one that would comment on their presence. Robert Kerr, the senior of the two Royal Navy officers, noted with approval that Thomas Phillips, the man he came to meet, did not salute or request permission to sit. No one would think they were in His Majesty’s Service.


Kerr had the serving girl, a raven-haired beauty with a thick Scotts accent, bring two beers. They sipped beers and talked about nothing for a few minutes. Then they got down to business; it was quickly plain that none of the other customers paid attention to them. “Bit of an odd place to have a council of war, isn’t it?” Phillips asked.

“There are many spies on this island. Many here support the colonials, or at least like taking their money. We must be careful at all times. Ask yourself this question: How did that pirate, Allen, know which ship carried the fleet payroll? Collins said that when they attacked, they came straight at him. He thinks they even knew where in the ship it was.” Kerr shook his head, “that was a bad bit of business. And now the Admiralty wants this specially rigged ship to catch him. How soon can you sail?”

“Dawn tomorrow. I am short some supplies, I wanted to leave before he did, but that was impossible. More supplies I can get, I will find him.”

“You expect him to go north?”

“Yes. His father is on his way to a prison ship in New York harbor. It’s clear that he wants to free the man.”

“We ought to hang the lot,” Kerr said. “They are all pirates.”

“They have Letters of Marque from the Continental congress.”

“Permit me to point out that this so-called Continental Congress is not a legitimate government. If we say they have the authority to grant such, we might as well go home; there will be nothing to fight about.” He took a drink of his beer before continuing. “I take it you believe your ship can catch this pirate. He won’t escape?”

“Not if I can help it. These pirates are a pestilence on the seas. This ‘Captain Allen’ and his ship, Venus, are among the most successful. If we bring him down, the others may take notice.”

“They will take notice when we hang father and son from one gallows.” Kerr smiled grimly. “That is why the King needs you to be successful. I hope your guess that he’s heading for Boston is correct.”

It was the lieutenant’s turn to smile. “It isn’t a guess.”

His companion raised an eyebrow, a silent question. The lieutenant glanced around the room before continuing. Their server was bringing them more beer, but her presence did not attract his attention.

“I have a spy aboard Venus. We have worked out a means for him to get messages to me through various methods. I think it will work. In any event, we will gain knowledge about how Allen, and other privateers, operate.”

“Excellent.”

“How is Lord Collins? I’ve not heard anything about him.”

“He’s in the naval hospital, not expected to leave. His wound turned gangrenous; they took his leg off a few days ago. Now, they can’t do more than give him laudanum while he dies.”
#

“God, I love this!” Benjamin stood by the stern taffrail, watching St. Eustatius sink below the horizon and pondering his plans for the voyage ahead. He had spent hours studying reports and stories from other sailors. His lieutenants: Cunningham, O’Reilly, and Garibaldi, had supplied valuable insights into their current situation, but in the end, it would fall on him to make the hard decision.

Should they go north to find and rescue his father, Moses Allen, or go to better hunting grounds? The first was more important in his eyes, but the crew expected to make money taking British merchant ships. It didn’t help that the crew was divided on the issue. Most men who had been with him on earlier cruises favored saving Moses. The new men mostly wanted to make money.

But, more than anything, going to the sea made him happy. Knowing that his father was stuck in some English prison could not dampen his spirits. He held the rail tightly and lifted himself slightly to catch a last look at the island he used for a Caribbean base. It was Dutch territory, but they backed American independence. He turned and looked forward. The ship’s bow buried itself into a large wave, sending white water crashing away from the hull.

Marcus Cunningham stood next to the helmsman, a new man but one with experience on other ships. Benjamin knew that Marcus was assessing the new crewman; since he wasn’t talking to this one, he must approve of the man’s work.

On the main deck, O’Reilly was drilling a new gun crew on the steps to reload a cannon. They practiced without using ammunition; the man at the gun’s muzzle pretended to load in powder and ram it home. Loading and firing a weapon was a complicated dance involving five men and a gun captain. When, not if, they got in a fight; the speed with which these men performed that dance would be critical. Benjamin trusted O’Reilly to train the crew to a fever pitch.

“All right, gentleman,” O’Reilly shouted, “what did you do wrong?” The gun crew looked at each other blankly. One of the older crewmen, watching from a few feet away, laughed. “Jackson, if you’re so smart, answer the question.”

Jackson turned serious. “Sir, they forgot to load the shot on top of the powder.”

“Right.” O’Reilly turned to the gun crew. “What happens when you forget to load the shot.” More blank looks. “Jackson?”

“Nothing happens, you get a bang and flash, and that’s it.”

“Precisely. Gentlemen, let’s run through it one more time. This time pretend we’re trying to hit something.”

Benjamin smiled. O’Reilly would swear and complain that Benjamin would get them all killed by hiring landsmen for what should be sailors’ jobs. But he’d have the crew ready for a fight within a few days. Marcus paced along the rail at the forward end of the quarterdeck. He saw Ben emerging from his reverie and stepped across the deck to speak with him.

“I take it you have decided to go to Boston.”

Benjamin looked up at the sun, squinting at the light. Then he looked to the northern horizon before answering. “Yes, we will work up the coast to Boston. There should be good hunting along the coast going up. Rescuing my father has always been my first goal. If I fail at that….” Benjamin’s voice trailed off.

Marcus said nothing for a moment out of respect for his Captain. “We had good hunting here, although there are too many warships for my taste.”

“Mine too. I hope we can take some nice fat cargo vessels before we get to Boston. That way, I'll have the money to buy my father’s release if an opportunity arises.”

“It sounds fair to me. Sir?”

“Yes.”

“I think the crew all understand. The old hands are telling the new ones what sort of commander you are. More than a handful were acquainted with your father. They want to see him released. If we can take a prize or two on our way north, it will help. But they are all with us.”

“Indeed. All right then, let’s take a prize.” Benjamin thought momentarily, then reached into his pocket and brought out a gold coin. “I’m going to tear a page from Christopher Columbus’s book. Nail this to the mast and beat the crew to assembly.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

A moment later, Benjamin heard the drums beating the crew to assembly on the weather deck. When Marcus had the crew ready, he called Ben. Taking his place at the quarterdeck rail, Benjamin addressed the crew.

“Men, I am pleased to have you as my crew; together, we can make a bit of money and help our new nation’s cause. We will win American freedom. As you know, one of my objectives is to free my father from prison. Frankly, I must live with the knowledge that I may fail.

“Therefore, seizing enemy shipping is the main object of this cruise. So, I have had Mr. Cunningham nail a gold piece to the mainmast. The first man that sights a prize will be awarded that coin.”

The assembled men cheered, and one or two threw their hats in the air. Benjamin waved in acknowledgment and returned to his cabin while the crew returned to work. Benjamin sighed. He had spoken the truth; he didn’t expect to free his father. But he had a good crew; they would press ahead no matter what.
#

Armed guards escorted Moses Allen, Cornelius, Jacob, and Sam Butler from the ship’s brig. A fifth prisoner had been dropped off at some port on the way north. since they couldn’t see anything, they did not know where or why the man was taken. The prisoners shuffled toward the companionway as best they could. Moses had lost all track of time during the voyage. It must have been at least two or three weeks. The brig was poorly lit, lacked ventilation, and provided no room to exercise. The food was barely edible; a layer of scum floated in the barrel containing their water. The treatment from the guards varied from indifferent to brutal. “Surely,” he thought, “whatever awaited him could not be worse.”

Moses stepped onto the weather deck. The light nearly blinded him; he held up his hands to block the rays. After a few seconds, his eyes adjusted somewhat to the glare. He realized the sky was overcast; a light rain fell. After weeks with no ability to bathe or change clothes, the water felt good. He looked around, taking in the view. “We are in New York.” He remarked.

“Indeed, we are, Sam Butler, the smuggler, agreed. “Lord knows I’ve spent enough of my life here.”

Behind him, Cornelius coughed a problem that had developed in the last few days. Moses hoped they could go somewhere the poor man could recover if they got ashore. Perhaps they would live in a barn or some other building. Anything had to be better than what they were leaving.

The guards shoved them roughly with their muskets. Jacob fell to the deck after a guard pushed him so hard he could not regain his balance. For a moment, Moses thought the guard would bayonet him, but Moses managed to get him upright and moving. The guards forced them down a ladder to a waiting whaleboat. The oarsman began rowing to a battered hulk nearby.

Moses looked toward what he believed to be their destination. “Looks like our new home is an old ship-of-the-line.”

“She looks a wreck,” Butler said.

Even someone who knew nothing about ships could see it was wrecked. The paint had peeled off the hull. All but a part of one mast had been removed.

Moses sniffed at the air. “What is that smell?”

Jacob made a choking noise, and Cornelius coughed and retched.

“It’s the ship; they’re putting us aboard a prison ship,” Moses exclaimed.

“They expect us to live in this disgusting mess?”

Shortly, the four men were on deck. A clerk made a record of their names, then pointed to a deck grate. “Down the hole.”

“This is hell,” Moses said as he climbed down the ladder to the gun deck. Involuntarily, he covered his nose and mouth with one hand. The stench became overpowering as he descended. The air was thick with the smell of human waste, rotten meat, and rancid food. The worst was the smell of festering and gangrenous wounds. It was hard to see in the dim light; only a few openings let in light or air. The rest had been boarded shut.

Hideous sounds emanated from other parts of the ship. Men groaned, or their lungs gurgled with fluid. Below and forward, one man screamed repeatedly.

“God help me,” Moses whispered, “I will never live through this.”
#

Caitlin’s heart pounded as she took the stairs to her rented room above the public house. The fact that Venus’ crew contained a spy was a fact that had to be conveyed to Captain Allen as rapidly as possible.

O’Reilly had helped her arrange a lease; never having had much money, she had no experience with such things. Her inability to read or write also hampered her negotiations. But it left her with one more complication: the presence of too many men. She and O’Reilly, although using separate Gaelic dialects, could talk. She valued someone she could speak to.

Cornelius no doubt thought of her as “his” woman. He had filled a gap. Captain Allen released her in Charles Town. Traveling alone was not an option for a woman with no family. Cornelius filled that gap but offered little comfort and support. He was useful but was not a friend and certainly not a lover.

After his victory over Lord Collins, Captain Allen employed her to watch the harbors, docks, and ships after he left on his next cruise. “Even though,” Allen had said, “it may take three weeks or more to get a message to Boston, you can be our eyes and ears in the Caribbean. You’re a woman who does not speak the local languages well, the men on the docks will not pay attention to you, except to entice you into their beds. You may supply information no one else can uncover.” From the looks the innkeeper and his wife gave her, Caitlin was sure they thought she was Allen’s kept woman.

And here it was; she had valuable information. Now, the problem was to get that information to Captain Allen. Only one set of names came to mind as people who could help, Henry and Tabitha. She did not even know their family names. But their names came up several times when she and Captain Allen planned her work here. But they did not contemplate events happening so quickly.

She would see them in the morning. In addition to exposing the spy, she needed to replenish her supply of some of Tabitha’s tinctures. It was time to see Lord Collins again.

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

Would the RN guy be clever / devious enough to 'mention' their spy in her hearing ?

There's nothing like a 'hall of mirrors', suspected or real-enough, to destroy confidence and a crew...