Antigua was a small island, but was great in regards to the needs of the Royal Navy in the West Indies. As dawn’s light lit the sky the master’s predictions came true. The island seemed to creep up over the horizon until it was in plain view. This made old Peckham strut like a peacock. Anthony never doubted the master’s prediction, and was just as excited as he at having made a perfect landfall. It had been nearly six weeks since they had left England. Not a speed record by any means, but the time had been well used. The crew’s sail handling had been tested in all kinds of weather conditions. They had become proficient with the guns, and now Drakkar was battle tested. Not much of a battle to be sure—but for a first action Anthony was more than pleased. The crew had been seasoned, and had grown together and now was a fighting unit. There had been one flogging, but this was expected. On most ships there would have been many more. Except for Witzenfeld, the passage had been a perfect training exercise.
As the sun rose, the sky became cloudless. The deep blue Caribbean seemed to invite and welcome the frigate into her waters. Sea gulls and all manner of other birds were everywhere—swooping down, gawking and then darting off. At times, they seemed to hover in one spot. Then, flapping their wings, they’d fly away. Anthony sensed someone’s presence. Turning, he stood face to face with Lady McKean. In spite of the warm sun, she gave a shiver. Unpleasant memories of Antigua? Recalling yesterday’s ordeal? Anthony was left to wonder.
His own thoughts had drifted that way. They had lost five crewmembers discharged dead and another five or six had significant, but not life threatening wounds. Not so terrible a price to pay in the overall scheme of things, but while thankful of the few losses, his heart went out to those who had lost their lives. The Admiralty would consider the losses negligible compared to the schooners they’d captured. Especially given all the head money and specie they had retrieved.
Lady McKean would find no solace in this, however. “Will we have time to speak after we anchor, Captain?”
“I’m sure, my lady,” Anthony replied. “I have to report to the flag officer, if he’s in port. I’m sure I’ll have to meet with the commissioner at the dockyard. However, after the official visits, I’m sure we’ll have time to visit before Drakkar sails.”
“I would be grateful, Captain,” Lady McKean replied.
“Gil, my lady. Please just call me Gil.”
Pausing, Lady McKean looked at Anthony. “If you insist. I know you have much to attend to without me in the way.” Then she was gone.
***
“Deck there,” the masthead lookout called down. “Several ships anchored just off the headland, sir. One’s a second-rate, at least.”
“That’ll be the flag ship,” Anthony remarked to the master as he approached. “Make a signal to Buck and the two schooners to standby to fire salute.”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
“Mr Pitts.”
“Here, sir.”
“Prepare to wear ship.”
“Aye, sir.’’
“Once that’s completed, begin the salute.”
“Yes, sir,” Mr Pitts answered, then dashed away to attend his duties.
“’Bout to bust, he is, with his newfound authority,” Peckham remarked to Anthony as soon as Pitts was out of hearing. “Better watch out, Cap’n, or he’ll be admiral before you.”
“I’m sure,” Anthony replied. “I’m going down to change. No doubt the Admiral will signal before the anchor’s let go. Bart?”
“Here, Cap’n, I’m already preparing the gig, sir.”
***
Antigua was the Royal Navy’s headquarters and main base in the West Indies. As Gabe strode across the quarterdeck of the schooner LeCroix, he thought of his father. He had spent many an evening listening as the admiral had told stories and shared his memories of Antigua and the West Indies with Dagan and him. Hopefully, he’d have some to share when this commission was over.
The West Indies was a chain of islands on the eastern side of the Caribbean. These islands were full of natural harbors and inlets, making for the perfect lair of pirates and privateers. Therefore, opportunities for someone such as he should be abundant. Since Witz’s death, Gabe had been made acting fourth lieutenant. If luck held, he’d make lieutenant before too long. It was not unthinkable that once he made lieutenant he might even be given command of some little prize—like this schooner.
Thinking of this “little prize” made him think of Dagan. How much loot did he confiscate before letting anyone know it had been found? Better yet, where did he hide it? “For use in case of a cloudy day,” was all Dagan said, as he took a small chest and placed it aside before letting anyone know of their “find.” He had handed Gabe a large red ruby that had to be ten carats or more. “For luck,” Dagan had said. Gabe didn’t like keeping this from Anthony, but he didn’t want to say anything to hurt Dagan either.
Gabe fondled the gem in his coat pocket, and thought of the articles of war. He felt a chill run through him. “For luck,” Dagan had said. Well, he damn well hoped good luck was all that ever came of it.
Dagan approached and said, “Drakkar’s signaling.”
Gabe responded without even thinking, “Look alive men. The Admiral’s eyes are upon us. We don’t want him to liken us to a bunch of bum boatsmen.”
The winds had backed to the southeast. Drakkar was leaving a white wake in the blue sea. Even under reduced sail, she appeared a force with which to be reckoned. She glided into harbour, having completed the salute. The anchor had scarcely been loosened when the admiral’s signal repair on board had been hoisted. Anthony was proud of how well Bart had the gig’s crew turned out. Of course, he’d expected no different. Even Mr Davy was turned out smart as a bullock on parade day. He had been brought along to carry dispatches. “Bloody worthless little shit iffen you ask,” Bart had said. Anthony knew his comments were a ruse. Bart had taken to the young gentleman and had spent hours “educating” the lad. Even now he was explaining to Davy the age-old tradition of “the captain is last into the boat but first out.” Davy was listening to Bart, but couldn’t help but gawk at the flagship. He had thought Drakkar big, but the flagship was gigantic to the young mid.
Robert Harvey was flag captain of HMS Namur. She was small for a second rate—only ninety guns. However, she could still provide deadly force. Harvey met Anthony as he came on board shaking his hand even before honors had been completed. After pleasantries had been exchanged, the two talked captain to captain. “Sir Lawrence Finylson, rear admiral of the blue is our lord and master. He has tried very hard to deal with this pestilence of pirates and privateers. However, until you arrived, he had only one frigate—a small 28.
It’s a wonder she still floats, her hull is so wormy. We’ve lost a couple of brigs, and a hurricane damaged our one sloop so badly she will have to be completely overhauled. There’s little enough left to justify our admiral’s presence. He’s tried with what little resources we have, but Sir Lawrence is ill and grows tired. Now that you’re here, I expect he’ll haul down his flag so he can go back to England and enjoy what little time he has left.”
When Anthony was ushered into the admiral’s stateroom by the flag lieutenant, he was shocked. The man before him looked very tired and old. Yellow Jack had taken its toll on the old admiral.
“Ah, Gil, how are you? Have a seat.” The admiral then ordered the flag lieutenant to fetch some ice. As soon as the man had gone, the admiral jokingly remarked, “Soon as he gets back we’ll have a cool glass of refreshment, that is if he doesn’t get lost and let the ice melt before he returns.” Anthony had to smile. The admiral may be getting up in years, but he still maintained a good sense of humor.
“I’ve looked through the reports as you and Harvey were talking. Bad business with Lieutenant Witzenfeld. Demons, demons, I tell you. They take a man’s soul and torment him to the point of madness. Worse than with drink. I’ve seen it happen, right here on this island. Demons, pure and simple.
“Now about those damnable pirates.” The admiral had changed tack so quickly Anthony was momentarily confused. “It appears you dished ’em up prim and proper. Wee bit of prize money and head money too. You’ll need those prizes, and so we’ll buy them into the service. Oh, before I forget. Did we get an accurate count on the value of the treasure?”
“Not yet sir. We’ve been rather busy,” answered Anthony.
“Well, get to it when you can.”
“Aye sir,” Anthony replied.
“A very lucky beginning for you, Gil. More than I’ve had in three years. I’ve decided to haul down my flag. I’m sending my request on the next packet. I’m also going to appoint you to commodore. Of course, the admiralty will have to confirm the appointment, but I don’t see any problem there. What say you? I was very sorry to hear about Lord McKean.” The admiral had changed tack again without even pausing or taking a deep breath. “He was a good man. They had no children, so that leaves Lady McKean alone and a prime catch, if I do say so. She was years younger than Lord McKean. You’re not married are you, Gil?”
“Er—no sir,” replied Anthony, somewhat taken aback by the admiral’s frankness.
***
Once back on Drakkar, Anthony’s officers were jubilant over the news of his being appointed commodore.
“Yer broad pendant, sir. It’s about time,” Buck said.
Anthony looked at his first lieutenant and said, “Yes, but it would have been better if I could have had a captain under me. You know you would have been my choice.”
“Aye, Cap’n, but don’t worry. White ball below the pennant or no, we’ll show ’em. And when we’re through you’ll be flying your own flag, and that’s no error.”
Once the excitement over Anthony’s broad pennant subsided, he, Buck and the master discussed his findings on the flagship. “Those blackguards are no match for us on the open sea. However, once we’re sighted, they make for the closest island, cay, inlet, or reef where we can’t follow. According to Captain Harvey, we’ve lost two brigs. Laid their keels open on a reef trying to catch the cutthroats.”
“Amateurs,” snorted Peckham.
Anthony cut a glance at the old master. “Well, amateurs or not, we’ll need those two schooners to use, not unlike a terrier after a rabbit.”
“How will we man them, sir?” Buck asked.
“We can have the survivors off those brigs I mentioned. There’s still a few of them around. The rest, Mr Buck, I leave up to you. I’ll expect recommendations on the morrow.”
Anthony then turned to the master. “See what you can find in the way of updated charts. I’m sure the locals will have more accurate ones than these,” Anthony said. Disgusted, he tossed his calipers on the charts laid across the table before him.
“Now I’ll leave these problems in your capable hands. I’ll see what the island has to offer in the way of officer’s uniforms on my way to meet the dock-yard commissioner.”
***
Anthony looked at the envelope with the official seal on the back. “Mr Markham passed it along, sir,” Silas reported. “I didn’t disturb you right away as you was plotting with Mr Buck and the master.”
“Plotting?”
“Aye, sir. Ain’t that what yews was about? Plotting on how to deal with them sea devils.”
Anthony smiled at Silas’s description of his meeting with Buck and the master. “Yes, we were plotting, Silas.”
The envelope held an invitation to a reception that was being given in Drakkar’s honor. The reception was to be held at the dockyard commissioner’s residence, Commodore Gardner. Anthony had paid the commodore his official call, but not before he’d acquired his new uniforms. Gardner was a nice enough official who Anthony took a liking to immediately. He’d given his condolences on the loss of Anthony’s father.
“We were friends,” he said, stating that they were together in Hawke’s squadron in ‘59. “Your father was in command of the Cambridge 80. I had been first lieutenant on the Edgar 64. The Edgar’s captain was killed and I was given command. It rained hell that day—pure hell. It was soon after that your father was given his flag”
***
There was a slight ocean breeze blowing when Anthony, Buck, and Gabe got out of the coach. The rest of the officers—except those on watch—should arrive at any time, Anthony thought. A black servant dressed in finery for the evening’s festivities opened the coach’s door for them. The ground crunched beneath their shoes. Crushed seashells, long bleached white by the sun, had been used to line the path to the elegant white house. It was set just off the coast road atop a small hill. Anthony was sure it was built here to take advantage of these little breezes that they were now enjoying. Through the wide gates and up the white steps—they were taking it all in. The residence must surely belong to some rich merchant or ship owner and was on loan to the commodore. The commodore would not likely be able to afford such a residence. Anthony was certain the commodore would pass along to the owner any lucrative Royal Navy contracts that were available, thereby making it an advantageous situation for all parties.
Roses and gardenias were everywhere, their blossoms giving off a faint odor which seemed to drape across the light breeze. Another servant, a doorman, opened a pair of large ornate doors. As the three entered the room Anthony whispered, “Watch what you drink. These island brews will put a man’s ‘arse hole over tea kettle before he knows it.” Buck and Gabe nodded their acknowledgment, as each was wide-eyed at the splendid dwelling before them.
The room was awash in music and conversation until the door was opened. The sound hushed suddenly as another servant announced, “Lord Gilbert Anthony, Knight of the Bath, commanding his majesty’s frigate Drakkar.”
Anthony suddenly felt self-conscious, as if he were on public display. However, no sooner had the introduction been given than the room was roaring again. The commodore was coming to greet him. Gabe, he noticed, had already been encircled by a group of bare shouldered young ladies. No doubt he was calculating his chance of ridding himself of some pent-up humors.
Anthony turned and whispered to Buck before the commodore reached them, “I expect all officers to be back on board by four bells on the morning watch.”
“Aye, sir,” Buck replied.
Anthony introduced Buck to Commodore Gardner, and then allowed him to wander off in search of a possible “prize” for the evening. The air in the large room was hot and humid. The noise, candles, and body heat from all the mingling guests made it almost oppressive. No wonder the ladies all had small fans and were busily waving them.
Greta, Commodore Gardner’s wife, approached her friend, Lady Deborah McKean. She had been standing in a small vestibule taking in the festivities before her, but her eyes never wandering far before they returned to the British naval captain who commanded the ship which had rescued her.
Greta, watching her friend’s gaze, volunteered, “A striking man isn’t he? Not overly handsome but he is so commanding he makes you look twice. I felt my heart skip when we were introduced.”
Touching Greta’s hand, Lady Deborah seemed to tremble.
“A touch of humors,” her friend asked.
“No, it’s just that… that, well Greta, we’ve had no secrets between you and me. I don’t want to be disloyal to the memory of Lord McKean, but I feel like… like a young girl when I’m close to Captain Anthony. I think I’ve found the man I could love.”
Greta was touched by her friend’s admission, but not surprised. She had known the marriage between Deborah and Lord McKean had been an arrangement. Greta took the glass of wine from her friend’s hand and turned her so they were facing each other.
“Deborah, you listen to me. Lord McKean was a good man, but he’s dead. Life is short and out here in the islands it’s shorter still. You deserve some happiness in your life. Go to him. Let him know how you feel. We can’t be assured of tomorrow so live it for today and to hell with the rest. Besides, some other devilish imp will get her clutches on him if you wait. Now go to him now and let him know how you feel. I’ll help arrange a discreet meeting later.”
Anthony could not for the life of him remember half of the guests the commodore introduced to him. Never had he shaken so many hands or bowed to so many ladies in one evening. Nor could he remember drinking so much. Scarcely had his glass been emptied before it was refilled, or replaced. Anthony’s officers were all being entertained like conquering heroes. Much was made of the pirates murdering Lord McKean, and Drakkar’s sudden arrival. Turning, Anthony spied Buck in deep conversation with a boldly dressed woman. Her bosom was so open it scarcely left anything to the imagination.
Anthony felt a hand on his upper arm. Turning, he felt like the room was spinning. She was here standing before him. He felt his chest tighten.
“Lady McKean.”
“Lord Anthony.” She was dressed in black, but still she was here.
“I’m very pleased to see you,” Anthony said. “I was not sure you would be here, considering all you’ve been through.”
Lady McKean looked at Anthony, and he was not quite sure how to take her next words. “But sir, you are my rescuer. This reception is in your honor. How could I not be present?” They had moved toward an open window in search of a little breeze. “Did you know my husband?”
Anthony was caught off guard, “Madam?”
“Did you know my husband?” she asked again.
“No, my lady, I never had the honor.”
“Lord McKean was of Scottish descent. He came from a titled family of long standing. Titled, but impoverished. Ours was an arranged marriage. My father was a tradesman—a rich, powerful tradesman, but still a tradesman. Being a tradesman meant he wasn’t completely accepted as a gentleman. This pained my father. He wanted a son, but he had a daughter. He hoped that by my marriage to Lord McKean, he would have titled grandsons. We had a son but lost him to the fever. I’ve had no others. Now my son, my father, and my husband are all gone. When we were attacked, we were headed to Barbados to meet some of my husband’s friends. They were giving him a birthday party. His seventy-fifth.”
Anthony was astounded. Thinking aloud he said, “He was old enough to be your father.”
“One year younger than my father,” she replied. I was never quite sure if the reason we didn’t have any children was my fault or his. But at his age I felt it might have been his.’’
Anthony didn’t know what to say about this discovery but muttered, “Did you love him?”
Lady McKean looked somewhat hurt, “As I said, ours was an arranged marriage. But after a fashion, I guess I did. He was a good and caring man. He dearly loved me, and so I tried to make him happy. I was faithful.”
“Dear God! I should he ashamed of myself,” Anthony said. “I have no right.”
“You have every right, Gil,” Lady McKean said using his given name. “My dashing captain, sweeping down with cannons blazing away. You have all the right.”
Anthony half heard the bell. Dinner was being called, and he could feel the guests closing in.
“I have to see you!”
“I’ll send you a message,” she replied.
Then they were caught up in the crowd headed to the dining room. Looking for his place card, Anthony realized that the admiral was not present. Anthony was seated to the right of Commodore Gardner, and to the left was Harvey, the admiral’s flag captain. He looked at Anthony and said, “Sir Lawrence is ill this evening and sends his regrets.”
Commodore Gardner made a little speech once again honoring Anthony and the men of Drakkar for their bravery and wishing them future success. A toast was then made to recognize Anthony’s broad pennant. Then the meal was over. No further contact with Lady McKean had been possible.
As the more senior officers took their leave from the ladies to enjoy cigars and discuss the situation with the pirates, Anthony observed Gabe, then Buck, as each departed. Each man left with a beautiful lady on his arm, creating a touch of envy in him. Mr Markham was much in his cups and was in tow with Mr Earl. Hopefully they’d make it back to Drakkar safely.
“Well, Lord Anthony, we hope you enjoyed your evening.” Mrs. Gardner, the commodore’s wife, was speaking.
“Er—yes, madam. It was a wonderful evening. Thank you for being such a wonderful hostess.”
“Not at all, sir. We must thank you for bringing a little excitement into our lives.”
As Anthony took Mrs. Gardner’s offered hand he felt her press a small slip of paper into his hand. He continued his bow and kissed the back of her hand. As Anthony straightened, he thought he caught a wink from Mrs. Gardner.
“I do hope you have a rewarding time while you are at English harbor, sir.”
“Thank you again,” Anthony said. Then he turned to bid the commodore goodnight.
“Could we lunch tomorrow, Gil?”
“It would be a pleasure, sir,” Anthony responded, then walked out into the night. It was warm outside, but still much cooler than it had been inside the house.
Bart was standing beside the coach as Anthony approached. “It’s not over far to the jetty, sir, if you care to stretch your legs. I has yer pipe and Dagan gave me some good smelling tobaccy.”
“Good idea, Bart,” Anthony said, taking the pipe. Bart had already filled the bowl so he lit up and they started their journey down the hill.
“Ye seems to be in a good mood tonight, sir. It appears things are to ya ‘likin’.”
“Aye, Bart, that it is. This island may have some promise to it.”
Bart looked at Anthony. “I left Dagan at the jetty. We ‘ad us a wet or two together and now he’s waiting on Gabe.”
“Might be a long wait,” Anthony answered.
“Nay, sir. Dagan says ’ell be along in an hour.”
“He does, does he?”
“Aye,” Bart said. “Dagan also said we’d be seeing some big changes in you soon.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes sir!”
“Any specifics?”
“No, sir. I didn’t ask and ’e didn’t laborate.”
Anthony looked at Bart smiling, “You mean he didn’t elaborate.”
“Nay, sir, ’e didn’t laborate a’tall.”
Anthony took another puff on his pipe, tasting the gentle sweetness of Dagan’s tobacco. He watched as the smoke drifted on the wind, the aroma of the tobacco intermingling with the smell of salt in the air. Watching the smoke rise and fade away as he exhaled, Anthony pondered Dagan’s predictions. Could it have anything to do with the paper in his pocket? Could Dagan really see the future? Was he a soothsayer?