GRAND TURK CAME INTO VIEW IN LATE AFTERNOON AND, AS RASCAL entered Cockburn Harbor, Fallon could see the salinas, or salt flats where the salt was harvested. Closer on shore were women in wide-brimmed straw hats working in an open building packing 40-lb bags with salt. Ahead, Eleuthera was tugging at her rode well out into the harbor while Lucille was already low in the water, awaiting the small boats which would bring the last of the salt out to her.
Fallon’s gig had been repaired enough to float and he sent a crewman with an invitation to both Pence and Ashworthy, captain of Eleuthera, to come aboard for dinner. In the event, they were both coming up the side just as dusk approached, darkness just behind them. Fallon welcomed them to his cabin and asked Beauty to join them, as well.
Ashworthy was a rotund man, obviously given to food and drink, with white mutton chop whiskers and a quite red nose. His puffy cheeks made his eyes seem rather small and piggish, but as they darted about the cabin he appeared to miss nothing.
“Tell me, Captain Pence,” Fallon began, “how was your journey? I am all attention.”
“You were right, by God!” Pence exclaimed. “It was the damnedest thing ever, I can assure you!”
“What was, sir?” asked Fallon, wondering what in the devil he was talking about, for he’d seemed to begin in the middle of his story.
“Why, the grenados, of course!” said Pence, acting surprised that Fallon was lagging behind. “We were set upon by a privateer not two days from Grand Turk. He came up under our counter and attempted to get under our guns. My men were ready, sir, and lit the grenados and threw them overboard.”
“And what happened?” asked Beauty, catching the excitement.
“Why, they blew up, of course!” exclaimed Pence. “Glass and nails went everywhere, even into the side of my ship. I saw the buggers run below howling! They pushed away but we kept throwing grenados until they were out of range. Then we fired our 6-pounders at them. It was a glorious thing. Glorious!”
Pence looked around the cabin, beaming. Ashworthy, who had already heard the story when Pence had first arrived in Cockburn Harbor, burst out in laughter, slapping his big thighs at hearing it again.
“I want some of those things, those grenados,” he said to Fallon. “Did you bring some along for me?”
“I did indeed,” said Fallon agreeably, “and may I congratulate you, Captain Pence, on a wonderful victory. I take it none of your men were hurt in the battle?”
“Not a scratch, sir,” said Pence. “But I daresay the Frenchies were scratched about and some of them might never sit down again.”
“Excellent,” said Fallon, smiling broadly. “God, how I love a lopsided victory!”
Ashworthy, who had already been in harbor a week, was quick to call attention to the fact and offer a suggestion that they leave that very evening since Lucille was now fully loaded.
“Thank you, Captain Ashworthy,” said Fallon as diplomatically as possible. “But I would like to review our signals and, of course, our procedures for night sailing. I have made plans to leave at three bells in the morning watch to catch the first of the ebb. I believe that will be most satisfactory and give us the day to sail together.”
What Fallon meant between the lines was: let’s see if you obey my signals during the daylight hours before we get to our first night together. Fallon knew that packet captains were notoriously unwilling to heed signals and he wanted to be clear on the point that his signals had better be obeyed.
Ashworthy harumphed. Pence eyed Fallon with some small respect and Beauty only smiled.
“Now, let us review some elementary signals, gentlemen,” said Fallon. “And Captain Pence, please help yourself to the lamb, for I believe you will find it as tasty as lamb can be aboard ship.”
Sometime later the dinner was finished and Fallon had reviewed all the instructions he expected the packet captains to obey. As the little party broke up and Ashworthy and Pence made to return to their ships, Fallon added the asterisk he’d been saving for that moment.
“Gentlemen,” he said, looking directly at the two men. “I have it on excellent authority that there is a French frigate operating off the coast of the U.S. This would be in addition to the privateers and pirates we know lurk in the Bahamas and, indeed, who scout the U.S. coast for British and American shipping.” And then he leaned in closer to the two mens’ faces. “If you do not obey my signals I cannot protect you. And in the event the frigate attacks, I won’t protect you. I will not allow my ship to fall under a superior weight of metal while the ships I am trying to protect sail about stupidly. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
He didn’t wait for an answer from the astounded captains.
“Good,” said Fallon. “Then I will bid you goodnight.”
After seeing both captains over the side, Fallon retreated to his cabin to write a brief verse to Elinore. He kept his little verses in a drawer in his secretary and read them to her when they were together in the old fisherman’s shack on the edge of the marsh. It was in that shack that they’d always made love, and he shuddered involuntarily at the thought of their last night together there.
All I ask is your arms around me now,
Your face next to mine,
Your breath the small breeze I need on my cheek,
The wind to guide me home.
It was a poor excuse for poetry; it didn’t even rhyme. But Elinore always listened with her eyes closed, which was a good way to start the night.