Hades's Revenge Page 9

  “I doubt it. We’re dealing with a bunch of pirates—you really think they’re going to find it in their hearts to give us back our fair share?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Very unlikely.”

  “Do you suppose we’ll ever see Miss Patti again?”

  “It’s doubtful.”

  “That doesn’t bother you?”

  “What?”

  “Not seeing her again.”

  “Why would that bother me?”

  “What if she’s the one?”

  “The one what?”

  “The one you’re meant to be with?”

  “You really do have quite the imagination.”

  “Thank you.”

  “That’s not a compliment.”

  “It’s all in how you look at it.”

  “Is it?”

  “It is. For instance…”

  “Somehow I knew there would be a ‘for instance.’”

  “For instance,” William repeated in annoyance of the interruption, “if someone had said to me a year ago, ‘William, you’re going to make a fine pirate someday,’ I’d have laughed heartily at the idea.”

  Jessop raised his eyebrows in contemplation and agreement. “Truer words were never spoken. You have turned out to be very good in combat and you’ve taken up with woodworking like no one’s business.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But how does that make you a great pirate?”

  “Not sure.”

  “I think the fumes from that jacket have jumbled your brains.”

  “Naw. Think they’ve been jumbled for a while. But seriously now, how do you like being a pirate?”

  “I think sometimes I have an aptitude for it, but then we go into battle and that’s when I’m not sure anymore.”

  “Yah. I could do without the killing, too. Oh and the near death situations, but all in all I find myself not missing home much. I feel a little guilty about that from time to time—especially when I think of Lily and what’s become of her and the farm without me there to work it.”

  “I can imagine that would gnaw at one’s insides.”

  “It does. What about you? Do you worry about what’s become of your family?”

  “I must admit I do enjoy the life of a sailor—much more than I ever thought I would, but my family, well, I’m guessing with me out of the picture, Penelope has most likely stepped in as the mistress of the house at my father’s side, which, I might add, is what they both wanted in the end anyway.

  “They are much more suited for one another than our pairing. I would have never been very happy as an aristocrat and she would have never been happy with a laborer. As for my father, he’ll survive and be the happier for it. I never really fit in to his mold of what he expected me to become.”

  “If you had the choice, would you go back?”

  “That’s a hard question. The right thing to do would be to answer yes, but part of me thinks it would be better for all parties involved if they think I’m dead. In a sense, that man they knew is dead. I could never go back to living the way it was.”

  “You wouldn’t go back to live in the lap of luxury and all that money.”

  “Money isn’t everything, William. To me, that money is my father’s.”

  “Money is money. It doesn’t matter where it came from.”

  “It’s does to me. I’d love to be as successful as my father, but I needn’t be to be happy. When the time comes to settle down and have a family, I’d like to know I can provide for them, and that it’s due to my efforts they have the things they do. Though my father has been successful and invested wisely, most of the family money was not his doing.”

  “What about you?”

  “If I knew Lily was happy and cared for, I’d stay—at least for a while. I don’t think I want to be a pirate when I’m old, though. I’d retire somewhere warm and finish out my years. I do like the idea that I can be helping the patriot cause by providing them with supplies.”

  “I’m quite fond of that aspect myself, despite what my father might think.”

  They both chuckled a bit.

  “Well, regardless of what you think, I have the sneaking suspicion, we’ve not seen the last of Miss Patti.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am.”

  “If that happens, and I’m not condoning your idea, please make sure I don’t shoot myself in the foot if that happens, or hers for that matter.”

  “Can’t guarantee it, but I’ll do my best.”

  Jessop gave him a friendly shove as they laughed.

  Chapter Twelve

  When William and Jessop got back to the inn, they found their comrades ambling towards the docks feeling the repercussions of the drinking they’d done the night before.

  They fell in line keeping the conversation to a minimum since the men were not in any shape to answer. William was met with a wretching from Tom when he got close enough to William to smell the residual scent of the previously donned coat.

  “You reek,” Stubby proclaimed as if no one could possibly figure that out on their own. “Didn’t you have a bath last night?” he said wincing at the bright sunlight.

  “Yes, well, we had our own adventure last night that included a woman, eggs, a barn, and a smelly coat,” William admitted, but before he could finish, Stubby had passed out and face planted himself in the muddy path.

  “Guess he didn’t like your story,” Jessop joked.

  “Guess not,” William said as they both grabbed Stubby, one under each arm and dragged him to the ship.

  At the top of the gangplank Fin bellowed, “Cap’n would like to bend yer ear on deck at twelve hundred hours. If’in yer smart, ye better be thar with bells on.”

  There were mumbles and moans of ‘aye, aye’ from the men as they deposited themselves to their duties and readying to set sail. A few straggled behind and the announcement from Fin was heard several times over the course of the hour leading up to noon.

  When the captain appeared at the rail of the poop deck, the men congregated to look up to him from the quarterdeck. With Salty in his arms he cleared his throat before continuing, “Thar’s been a change in our plan, a detour if ye will. Things ’ave been heatin’ up betwixt the colonists an’ ol’ King Georgie after the massacre in Boston. Word is Georgie’s hell bent on gettin’ his due fer defending the colonists during the French and Indian war.

  “As I’m sure yer aware, enforcement of the Navigation act has been heavy handed to say the least. The colonists ’ave been approached by the Italians and Ragusans to enter a trade agreement, but thar a wee bit timid to do such a thing with Georgie butting in.

  “To further this alliance we’ve been procured by an unnamed source, to serve as escort to the Ragusans as they travel from Baltimore to Marseille, guaranteeing safe passage from corsairs and privateers.”

  Fin looked appalled, “But, sir, it don’t seem right.”

  “What’s that, Fin?”

  “Fighting our own kind to save a merchant.”

  “Money is money, Fin. If’n they’re willin’ to pay fer our services, why shouldn’t we? Food and supplies fer the crew don’t come cheap. Chances are, we won’t come across any trouble, but if’n we do we fight to give the traders a shot at making their commitments.”

  “Yer willing ta have the crew die fer these traders?”

  “We face death every time we step aboard Hades’s Revenge—every time we meet another ship upon the sea. Why not make some money while we’re at it?” Fin looked unconvinced so the captain said, “Let’s put it to a vote, shall we,” in order to appease Fin.

  “Who among us agrees to receiving a boat full of supplies and money to boot, for escortin’ a ship to France?”

  Most hands raised among the men but there were those who were slow and weighed with uncertainty. The captain added, “This is a one-time deal. We have no other commitments with these traders. If’n we do this and we don’t like it we don’t have to do again, w
e’ll leave it to some other scurvy pirate ship.”

  With that the hands came up confidently as the captain seemed to know they would. “Good. After we leave Marseille, we we’ll be heading toward the coast of Germany. Seems Georgie is procuring a regiment of Hessian soldiers to hunt down the perpetrators of the burning of the Gaspee. I’m sure you’ve heard of Dudingston’s crackdown on the smuggling ring in Narrangansett Bay.” Many men bobbed their heads in agreement.

  “While pursuing the Hannah, the Gaspee ran aground in the shallow waters off Namquit Point then sped away. Some man named Bucklin heard what happened and organized a party of sixty or more to raid the stranded vessel. They set the ship aflame.

  “Georgie’s taking the incident as a personal challenge to his authority and plans to see justice brought to the colonists at any cost.

  “My thoughts were to shadow the ship carrying them Hessians until they get far from home, then act. By the time news gets back that thar ship never arrived, the colonists will have gained a chance at preparing if Georgie sends another land force.”

  A word from the crowd said, “I’ve heard these Hessians are a brutal bunch.”

  “Aye, I’ve heard this too,” answered the captain. “But they be land fighters and though their methods be fiendish hand to hand, I’m expecting them to not fend well on the water. Many will be sick in the first week, as ye well know. That’s when we make our onslaught.”

  “We’re in agreement then?”

  A hearty barrage of ‘aye’s’ met the captain’s ears. “Let’s make Georgie’s life a living hell, shall we boys?”

  “Aye!” they roared.

  “Make sail for Baltimore, men.”

  “Aye!” shouted the sailors.

  * * *

  The captain steered the Revenge through the pitch of night to avert any attention to the rogue ship. At a smaller harbor south of the well-known Baltimore port, they docked the ship.

  The men were met by a dozen locals at the pier and quickly went to work filling the belly of vessel with food and supplies. Nary a word was spoken under the veil of darkness that shadowed the unknowing from what was being undertaken. The pirates and the dockworkers worked efficiently and diligently until just before light.

  Jessop and William had been tasked to procure wood and hardware from a warehouse within the town. With a cart they set out on their pursuit. A secret knock gained them entrance by a man carrying an oil lamp.

  “Come in, but be quick about it,” he whispered opening a barn style door to accommodate the cart.

  He pointed to a pile of supplies in the far corner before returning to a drawing table.

  Jessop and William went to work piling the cache of timber and kegs of nails onto the handcart. When they were done Jessop made his way to the gentleman hard at work drawing some strange contraption on parchment.

  “Was there anything else we needed to pick up,” Jessop said distracted by the detail of the sketch.

  “No, unless you need tools.”

  Jessop caught William’s gaze in question confirming what he already knew, “No. I think we have everything we need. This contraption is quite magnificent. What do you call it?”

  “It’s a submersible. It doesn’t have a name yet, though it looks like a turtle, don’t you think?”

  “Indeed,” agreed Jessop. “What materials will you be making it from.”

  “Wood,” he said. “It will be used to secretly affix charges to an enemy’s hull.”

  “How would the charges be detonated?” Jessop asked.

  “I’m working with a clockwork genius named Dolittle who’s making some kind of flintlock type mechanism.”

  Jessop nodded. “And how will it dive and move around?” William tapped his foot with impatience.

  “A lever will flood the bilge tank here,” he pointed, “and a hand pump will force the water out to surface. These hand cranks will propel the vessel forward and sideways.”

  “May I make a couple of suggestions?”

  “Be my guest,” he said.

  “I’d be inclined to put lead at the bottom with a release mechanism to drop it. That would shoot the vessel to the surface in an instant allowing for the operator to get out quickly if he needed to.”

  “Yes. I see. Very good.”

  “And though I don’t know the calculations of pressure to depth, I’m guessing you might want to reinforce the wooden shells with strips of steel here, here, and here.”

  “And that wouldn’t take away from its buoyancy?”

  “Not enough to worry about and the man within will be very grateful for it.”

  He chuckled. “Yes. I imagine he would. Thank you.”

  “Thank you, and good luck,” Jessop said offering his hand.

  He took it and shook, “Thank you…”

  “Jesse Andrews.”

  “Jesse Andrew, nice to meet you, I’m David Bushnell.”

  “Mr. Bushnell it’s an honor to make your acquaintance.”

  “And mine, yours.”

  Jessop made his way to open the door for William to maneuver the cart outside, waving as he did.

  “Didn’t think I’d ever get you out of there,” he whispered as they made their way down the earthen path.

  “You should have seen it, William. It was fascinating.”

  “I’m sure it was, but we’re on a schedule and I don’t want Fin to have any reason to discipline me.”

  Jessop smiled and patted him on the back. “No, we wouldn’t want that,” he said as they walked.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As the sun peeked its lazy head above the horizon, giving a glow that turned the darkness to light, the Revenge sat hidden in a small cove waiting for the Antoinette to make her way out of Baltimore into the vast opening of the Atlantic.

  When she did, the Revenge fell in behind her full with sail in pursuit. Once beyond sight of land the Revenge pulled alongside her and both captains tipped their hats to one another in acknowledgement. The captain ordered the colors be raised as they pulled in front of the Antoinette leading the way to France.

  The weather could not have been better if they had ordered it up from a menu. Blue skies and smooth waters set the scene for the few weeks it took to cross the vast ocean through the straits of Gibralter, past Spain and into French waters.

  Two ships passed them at a distance, but bearing the notorious jolly roger of Thaddeus Stillwater, kept them from journeying any closer than need be. Fifty miles off the coast, the Revenge took her leave and headed back to the straits and northwest to the Azores where they would catch the current pulling them into the north Atlantic gulf stream.

  Luck seemed to be with the cunning captain and within a week the Revenge spotted a German ship head to the colonies. Their advantage of surprise on the unsuspecting crew made hand to hand combat unnecessary.

  Flaming cannon balls in the black of night left the ship an inferno. One of the first balls to hit took out the mast that lay atop the deck trapping the men who’d been sleeping below to be consumed by flames.

  Jessop and William stood on the deck of the Revenge looking at the bright flames shooting across the lame ship and up its mast like a liquid with nothing to curb or dam its destruction.

  Screams from the men trapped lingered in their ears and Jessop was awestruck at the dismal sight that played out before him. The fire had no mercy and even if the pirates aboard wanted to help, there was nothing that could be done. Too fast had the plot unfolded for anyone to change their minds.

  Soon the screams stopped and only the crack of wood and the hiss of steam were heard. It seemed to affect everyone on board, for they all stood, even the captain, and watched the horror until the ship mercifully slipped beneath the undulating waves and was gone.

  Jessop and William had seen misery and annihilation in their bouts of warfare and battle, but the burning and sinking of this ship was almost like an accident that had been long awaited and anticipated by whomever controls natural disasters. Like the
souls lost below Vesuvius, these souls too, never had a chance—it just happened too quickly.

  The incident here would surely scar every man aboard. Men think they can control the things around them until something like this happens and they remember just how small they are, thought Jessop.

  With the desolation in the minds and hearts of the men aboard, the captain turned the ship southwest and the Caribbean Sea.

  He’d told the crew they were there for the rum, but Jessop was quite sure it was to raise moral before returning to the coastal paroling of lone British ships heavy with cargo, money, and arms.

  They dropped anchor off the coast of St. Croix and the men were allowed leave for a week.

  Many drank the tragedy of the Hessians out of their minds, others found companionship with bar wenches to ease their woes, but at the end of their stay, Jessop and William found their distraction in the antics of a man named Olaf Olaffson.

  * * *

  Jessop and William along with Stubby and Tom were staying at the Soused Herring drinking ale when a giant blond man stepped through the door, wearing a leather cap that made his head look like a bullet.

  A nose guard reached between his eyes to the tip of his nose covering it completely from sight. He wore trousers beneath a tunic that came to his knees and was belted at the waist. But it was the large broad sword in the scabbard on his back that caught most everyone’s attention. It must have been at least five feet in length and five inches across at its hilt.

  He approached the bar discarding his helmet and demanded a pint of mead. The bar maid quickly handed him an ale and when he took a long draw on it his mustache was covered in foam.

  He wiped his whiskery lip on his sleeve, slammed the tankard on the bar and belted out, “This isn’t mead.”

  The barmaid looked scared to death as she claimed, “We don’t have any mead, only ale.”

  The furrowed-brow, angry man stared at her for a second and said, “I like it! Another wench,” he said smiling and looking around at the patrons. None of the men caught his gaze intentionally but William who couldn’t seem to get over the size of the man and the sword on his back.