CHAPTER TWELVE

He’s dead?”

“Aye, Captain. Stiff, blue, and cold. He’s a dead one all right.”

Gabe stared at Wright. Recalling the surgeon’s screaming fits, he couldn’t help but think the poor sod’s demons were finally put to rest. They’d be in Barbados within the week and hopefully another surgeon would be available.

“Be nice to have Caleb back, wouldn’t it?” Dagan volunteered.

“You think,” Gabe started but stopped in mid-sentence as Dagan shook his head no.

“I was just saying it’d be nice.”

“Aye, that it would.” Turning back to Wright, Gabe said, “You’ve done a wonderful job thus far and I will make sure your record reflects it, Wright. If you need anything let me know, and if a surgeon is needed we can signal Stag. Captain Lamb says he has a good one.”

“Yes, sir. Dr. Miller, he’s actually a physician who wanted to see what medicine at sea was like firsthand. A gentleman from a well-to-do family I’m told, sir.”

“Yes, well I hear Captain Lamb is from a rather well-to-do family, so maybe there is a family connection somewhere.”

“Possibly, sir.”

A knock at the door brought the conversation to an end. “First lieutenant, sir,” the marine announced.

Gabe had been expecting Campbell. There had been a fight and Campbell had asked for permission to handle it unofficially rather than getting the captain involved. Gabe had agreed, knowing the captain’s punishment would be a flogging. Campbell’s method would bring respect as well as appreciation. If not, the cat could still be let out of the bag.

***

Lord Gilbert Anthony sat in a padded chair watching as his wife, Lady Deborah, and Faith, Gabe’s wife, were playing with the new baby. He had forgotten how giddy women could get when it came to children, especially newborns. Gabe had a fine son. “Looks just like his daddy,” Faith had proclaimed. Damned if I can see it, Lord Anthony thought. Women…mothers must have an eye men lacked. While the boy was a cute little fellow, Lord Anthony failed to see any resemblance to anyone he could think of. He had blondish hair, which was from Faith, as Gabe’s hair was black. His face was red, wrinkled, and chubby. How could that be considered to be the spitting image of Gabe?

Oh well, maybe Bart was right. “Best you smile and agree, otherwise your wedding tackle will rust before it’s broken out again.”

Perfect advice, Anthony thought as he realized the noise he’d been hearing off and on was Bart snoring. An empty glass of wine sat on the table between the two chairs. The flickering flame from the candelabra made shadows dance across Bart. His legs were stretched out and his pipe lay in his lap. At least it had gone out, otherwise an ember might have resulted in damage to Bart’s wedding tackle. The thought caused Anthony to smile. He could just see Bart jumping up if an ember had burned through his britches.

Laughter made Anthony look back at the women. Faith was handing the baby to Nanny. They must be getting ready to go home. Unable to stifle a yarn, Anthony realized it was getting late. Deborah and Anthony had tried their best to have Faith stay with them, at least until the baby was bigger, but she had declined.

“Thank you both, but I have Nanny and Lum, as well as Ariel, with me. Lum can come get you when it is time for the baby,” Faith had promised Deborah. After the baby had been born Anthony had asked Nanny how Faith had done.

“She did fine, suh. Shucks, that girl was made for child-bearing. I just wish her mama was here to see her, course she’s looking down from heben right now.”

Lord Anthony had asked about the baby’s name but Faith had been coy, stating she and Gabe would tell everyone when he got home. Anthony hoped that wouldn’t be long. Knowing the navy as he did, it might be months or even years before Gabe returned.

Jepson had said Gabe would be underway as soon as the convoy ships had been made ready. Captain of a sixty-four, damned if Gabe hadn’t moved up fast…maybe too fast; even if England did need brave captains to sail the ships necessary for this war. It was not that Gabe hadn’t proved capable, he had. It was the responsibility that went with being a flag captain. Buck, however, would not let him flounder, Anthony was sure of that.

Jepson also had stated that Gabe had a good first lieutenant in Donald Campbell, and a master in David Hayes. An old seadog like Jepson who’d been a master himself would know.

***

A strong wind pushed the convoy, though now the sky was clear and bright. For twenty hours the ships sailed at five knots or so, where previously three knots had been only something to wish for.

“How long do you think our grocery captains will keep this up before they start to lag?” Campbell asked his captain.

“I would not venture a guess, Mr. Campbell, as I’m of the opinion it’s already lasted longer than I hoped for.”

Approaching the captain and the first lieutenant, the master still held his sextant in his bony hand. He had just completed the noontime sighting. “By my reckoning,” Hayes said, “we have crossed the thirtieth parallel.”

Gabe understood the master’s unspoken meaning. They were now over three thousand miles from England and effectively in the waters of the American privateers. The American Navy was so small it did little to cause concern for the British, but the privateers were a different story. They frequently hunted in packs of two or more and had done more to win the war for the Colonies than Washington’s army. Half the supplies sent to keep the war going had been taken from the British by rebel ships.

Now the Frogs were out in force with the Americans. This caused the British navy to be stretched so thin that many felt it was better to end the war with the Americans than risk a French invasion of England.

***

Gabe had just drained his second cup of coffee while Hex was shining his sword and taking care of his pistols. Careful to wipe all the salt spray from the weapons, Hex then applied a fine coat of oil to each pistol and then the sword. He then turned his attention to the sword sheath. A knock at the door roused Gabe, whose thoughts had been on Faith and his new son.

“The purser, suh,” the sentry announced.

“Good morning, Mr. Gibbs,” Gabe welcomed the purser.

“Good morning, Captain, I’m afraid I’ve a problem, sir.”

When the timid man failed to continue, Gabe prompted, “A problem with what?”

“Some of the cask of beef in the lower storage has sprung a leak, sir.”

“How did you discover this?” Gabe asked, wondering if the recent storm was not an opportunity for the purser to claim damages to the ship’s stores so they could be cast aside and he not be held accountable.

“The bilges smells…ah rotten, sir…quite foul.” The little man turned green just thinking of the smell.

“Are you well?” Gabe asked.

“I’m sorry, sir, I have a weak stomach and do not tolerate such humours.”

“Well, be that as it may, sir, I’m sad to say you must show me this cask,” Gabe informed the purser.

“Cannot the first lieutenant do it, sir? He knows the location.”

Gabe could see what it cost the man to admit to his weakness so Gabe relented. “I will see if Mr. Campbell is available.”

“Thank you, sir, you are most gracious.”

“He is an odd one, Captain,” Hex said. “More honest than most. but I’ve heard sometimes he gets sick when there is weevils in the biscuits.”

“And he’s in the Navy?”

“Aye, Captain.”

Lieutenant Campbell led Gabe and Hex down the hatchway and into the aft steerage. Hex held the lantern high to light up the darkness. The smell was apparent from a distance. The sounds this deep in the bowels of the ship were much different than those on the deck. The clank of the pumps was much louder, as were the groans of the ship’s timbers as the keel flexed as it cut through another wave. Water sluicing around the rudder made an eerie sound. Sounds that were not heard topside.

As the proximity of the cask in question grew close, Gabe put his handkerchief to his nose. “Damme, but that’s foul. No wonder the purser was reluctant to return down here.”

The cask was soon located.

“It looks like the line securing the tier has parted allowing these casks to slide and fall.”

“How many are there?” Gabe asked.

Holding the lantern high, Hex quickly counted. “Three maybe four casks are ruined, sir. A fifth may be saved. We can tell better once it’s on deck.”

“Very well, Mr. Campbell. Check with the surgeon’s mate and see if he has any recommendations about cleaning this area and helping with this…this foul odor.”

“Aye, Captain. Too bad we cannot run down a Frog. I’m told their officers carry unlimited quantities of perfume.”

“Well, don’t wait on that possibility, Mr. Campbell. Otherwise, we’ll not be allowed in port…anybody’s port.”