Nate looked up at his desk in time to see his ink bottle tip over on the blotter and commence a roll toward the end of the desk. He quickly reached out to stop the ink bottle from landing in his lap and ruining his uniform breeches.  He grasped the bottle with his right hand, rapidly closing his grip around it.

    This time a marine stuck his head through the door, "Sir?"

    Before Nate could reply, Midshipman Brown pushed past and came running into the cabin. "Mr. Fauth’s compliments, Sir," Brown looked down at Nate’s thumb in the ink bottle, "May I help you with that, Captain?"

    Nate snatched his hand behind his back, concealing his predicament. "Mr. Brown, you have a message from the first officer?" He snapped.

    "Errr....Yes, sir," Brown looked down at the deck with hurt feelings that his idol would snap at him so.

    "Well, out with it man," Nate started to turn and pace the deck but checked himself when he realized he would expose his thumb in the bottle.

    Midshipman Brown raised his eyes to his captain’s face, unsure of himself with his captain in this abnormal mood. "He, ah," the midshipman stammered as an impatient Captain Beauchamp shifted his weight from his left leg to his right. Brown took a deep breath, stood at attention and began again in his most official voice. "The first officer wishes to inform the captain that the Falcon is hove too, awaiting the Valliant to come along side with Captain Mackenzie’s scouting report, Sir!"

    William Brown gave Nate a wide grin, "Aye, Sir! I will not be more than three minutes."

*******

    Nate came on deck followed closely by Midshipman Brown and gazed over the larboard side to watch Valliant’s last sails pulled in place and locked down with her sail gaskets. Captain Mackenzie’s gig was already half way to the Falcon’s side.

    First Lieutenant Fauth approached his captain, "Sorry, Sir, for the cross waves. The wind blew us askew before we realized it."

    Nate brushed his wind blown hair out of his eyes then realized that Lieutenant Fauth was staring at his freshly inked thumb. He snatched his hand down and pretended to scratch his back. "Think nothing of it, Martin, but I do not desire to be awakened in that fashion every morning."

    "No, Sir!" Martin went to the entry port where the side boys were waiting at attention to pipe Captain Mackenzie aboard. He walked between the ranks and inspected the two marines and two soldiers, to assure himself, one more time, that their uniforms were spit and polished, "Navy proper". The first lieutenant nodded his approval to Major Frere and Sergeant Windfield.

    "Good to see you so soon, Captain Mackenzie," Nate shook the captain’s hand and nodded in the direction of the aft hatch. "I’ll take your report in my cabin, if you please, captain."

    "Sir," Lieutenant Fauth points to where Dart lay gently rolling in the small swells half a cable off Falcon’s starboard quarter. "Captain Nobbs’ gig is approaching."

    "Very well, Mr. Fauth," Nate glanced back as he and Captain Mackenzie descended the ladder to his cabin, "Bring Captain Nobbs below as soon as he arrives."

*******

    Duncan Mackenzie leaned over Nate’s desk unfolding a hand drawn map. He spread it out smooth, placed the ink bottle on one side, then pulled his pistol from his belt and laid it on the opposite side. "I stopped a local trading sloop this morning." Duncan smoothed the map once more while he made his report. "After some questioning, I found that the pirate, Harry Rowe, has been harassing local shipping from a small anchorage called, Weaver’s Bite." He swept the map with the tips of his fingers as he backed his hand from the left to the right of the map. "He has the Raven, his sloop, tied along side the Content." Duncan raised his eyes to the watching Nate and Simon Nobbs, "He is most likely taking his time unloading the cargo as he has been safe so far with no local authorities strong enough to challenge him." 

    Simon leaned down to study the map with Nate and Duncan. "He must be fairly confident that he can lay anchored at leisure."

    Duncan nodded his head in agreement, "Aye, Captain Shepard, from the sloop, told me Rowe and his pirates have been extracting tribute from the local shippers in return for safe passage down the Black River."

    Nate straightened up, took his letter opener and traced around the map, "Looks like he has three ways in and out of there."

    Duncan took the letter opener from Nate and pointed, "This northern entrance leads in from the Black River," the letter opener slid down the map and stopped in the center of a small bay. "This is Weaver’s Bite and the Raven is anchored here, to the south is the channel to the ocean." Duncan then pointed to a small channel to the east, "Captain Shepard was unsure how deep this east channel is but we should block it in case the Raven can escape through there."

    "Gentlemen, while Harry Rowe takes his time unloading Content and waiting for his ransom for young Dunsmore, we will see if we can bottle him up in his own hide out."

    Nate hovered over the map as he explained his plan of attack. "Captain Nobbs, here, will take the Dart up Black River under cover of night." Nate looked Simon in the eyes to assure Simon knew the importance of what he was saying. "No lights at all, Captain Nobbs, they must not know you are coming in their back door." He looked back down at the map, "I’ll take the Falcon up the channel from the south," Nate glanced over to Duncan Mackenzie, "Captain, you had best keep the Valliant out to sea so you can watch all the entrances in case the Raven slips past. Do pay particular attention to this cut to the east," he stood once more and dropped the letter opener on the desk. "You never know what a cornered dog will do." Nate tapped Captain Nobbs on the chest, "Captain, we had best commence our run into the bite at sun up."

    Nate crossed to his wine cabinet, drew out his best bottle of port, three glasses, and poured a handsome amount in each glass. He then proposed a toast, as each man held his glass in the air, "Here is to catching them leisurely sleeping."

*******

    Harry Rowe sat under the makeshift canopy that was stretched across the Raven from side to side and just aft of her main mast. He was a squat little man, whose girth almost equaled his height. His pug face was covered with a gray bristle that told of the many days since he had last shaved. Perspiration from the hot tropical night oozed from his flat forehead, trickled down his face and dripped from his gray beard.

    You would never know from the looks of him that he started his professional life many years ago as on of the King’s men, pressed into service aboard HMS Drake in ‘93. He was a land lubber who worked his way up to petty officer but ran afoul of the navy when drunk in Kingston, he struck an off duty officer.

    Rather than face punishment, Harry deserted. Run as the navy called it. First he stayed with gangs of runaway slaves, one gang then another, as he worked his way west. Near the town of Black River he met up with a group of other deserters who were stealing cows and vegetables from the local plantations to survive.

    In short order, Harry Rowe became leader of the deserters and began attacking ships that anchored in the sheltered Weaver’s Bite. Now he had chosen the best of the ships, armed her and gave her the name, Raven.

    Harry shifted in his chair and motioned for his slave, Andrew, to come closer with the fan he was flapping to cool his master. "Andrew, dis be all yourn one day when I go’s back to England, rich likes dem gentlemen fellers from Hi Street in Lund’n."

    Rowe shifted again and cocked his ear to better hear a noise coming from the larboard side of the ship. "Mr. Lark’n, be see’n what makes dat noise o’r the side, wills ya?"

    Mate Richard Larken eased up from his resting place among a stack of coiled ropes and stuck his bulbous nose over the rail. "The sentries be return’n, Cap’n." Larken rubbed his eyes with both knuckles trying to bring himself all the way out of his rum induced nap.

    "Both of em, Cap’n," he looked back at Harry Rowe in bewilderment, "from the norf isl’n and the souf isl’n."

    Harry picked himself up and moseyed over to the rail and shouted to the returning sentries, What you fellers desert’n yer post fer?"

    Mole Swenson, in the sentry boat returning from the south, cupped his hands and shouted, "Looks like a government brig sailing down the channel, might even be a navy ship, Harry."

    Harry shook his head, stuck his fingers in his drink, then wiped his face. "How fer away be he, Mole?"

    Mole shouted his reply as the longboat raced for the Raven’s side, "Hour, Harry, maybe less."

    Harry and Mr. Larken turned to face the longboat returning from the sentry camp on the north island and waited anxiously as it pulled into shouting range, "Louis, wat news of d norf?"

    The little Frenchman, Louis La Rue, pointed hectically in the direction he had come from, "Ze British cutter, she is coming down ze north channel, Harry!"

    A now alerted Harry Rowe grabbed the mate and spun him so they faced each other, "Mr. Lark’n, get dese drunks on der feets an on deck rat now."

    Harry leaned on the rail and rubbed his fingers through his gray stubble while he desperately worked on a plan to get out of this navy trap.

    Frank Larken pushed and pulled all the men on deck where they stood before Harry Rowe.

    Harry raised his hands to silence the murmurs of the pirate crew, "We be in a fix, lads, but I’m a think’n we’s kin get outa it if’n ye does what I sez, when I sez it." Harry looked throughout the pirate crowd to see if there were any dissention toward him. "Ok, den, sail hand’lers up to yer stations, unfasten the gaskets but don’t let er loose till ah tells ya," he grabbed the nearest man pulling him by his shirt. "Bobby Hair, you take an sets up ax crews at the for’ard, spring an aft lines. Don’t chop em till ah tells yer. Do ye understands, me?"

    Bobby Hair pulled out of Harry’s grip, "What’s a spring line, Harry?"

    Rowe reached out and slapped Bobby aside the head, "Da one in the mid’le o da ship ya damn lubber."

    Bobby Hair rushed to the weapons barrel, motioning his crew to follow. They grabbed axes and headed to the lines holding the Raven to her captive Content.

    Harry watched Bobby and his crews get in place with their axes then he turned to the remaining men. "You gun crews, man yur guns, an da rest o ya men grabs yur bord’n weap’ns."

    Standing back, Harry took a deep breath of morning air, "Silas, brings dat yung’n Bobby Dunnsmore aft so’s we ken keep an eye one em."

    Another idea struck Harry . He waved for the three men remaining at the weapons barrel to come to him. He motioned to the Content and whispered to the three men. When he finished, they ran over to the Content and down into her cargo hold.

*******

    HMS Falcon greeted the morning ready for battle. Nate strained his eyes as the first light crept over the ship like a blanket of darkness slowly being removed, east to west, revealing the men at their battle stations.

    First he could make out the starboard gun crews, some kneeling looking out the gun ports attempting to see an enemy who was not yet in sight. Others peering over the rail, trying to do the same.

    As darkness slipped past the larboard side, Nate could make out that those gun crews were as ready as the starboard men were.

    The men were nervous. Hell, we are all nervous, he thought. Going into an uncharted bay to fight pirates we know very little of, cornering them in their own hide out. He shifted his gaze upward to the sails and masts. Cornered dogs are the most ferocious.

    There were few topmen aloft as the Falcon sailed under topsail canvas only - battle ready.

    The morning sun brightened to shine on the two marines and four soldiers on the mast cross trees. All six wore red coats but it was easy to tell the difference between the sharp shooter marines, who were accustomed to fighting aloft, and the soldiers who were about to experience a form of battle completely foreign to them. While the marines sat comfortably on the cross trees dangling their feet, the army men clutched ropes and lines to stabilize themselves from the gently rolling, as Falcon crossed the ocean swells rolling into the mouth of the channel. Nate smiled. They will forget all about falling once the fighting begins.

    Up forward, Nate could hear Able Seaman Austin call out the depth soundings as he swung the lead line forward of the ship. Then counted the knots that told the depth of the water, "By the mark, eight fathoms!" Cried Austin, "By the mark, one half and seven fathoms." No wonder merchant ships used to choose this bay for an anchorage, thought Nate. With it’s depth and the outer islands to shelter it from storms, it was almost perfect, till the pirates took over.

    Nate turned aft and stood by the wheel looking to seaward, watching the Valliant move east, thennorth, to her station for watching the channels openings to the sea. The Valliant was the best choice with her great speed she could block any channel the pirates chose for an escape. Nate nodded completely in agreement with himself.

    "Dech, ahoy," shouted Seaman Doudy from his lookout post high atop the main mast.

    Lt. Fauth rushed to the binnacle, retrieved the tin speaking trumpet and placed the mouthpiece to his ear. "Deck here, report!"

    Doudy clutched the mast while pointing across the lower tip of the south island, "Two ships anchored together."

    "Where away," Fauth strained his eyes as though he could see through the piece of land jutting across his line of sight.

    The officers and men stood stiffly, tense, awaiting Doudy’s report.

    "Looks like a merchantman with a sloop tied along side!" Doudy shouted to the deck.

    Fauth placed the trumpet to his mouth, "Any activity?"

    "None, Sir." Doudy looked at the anchored ships once more to confirm his report. "Looks like they are still asleep, Sir."

    Midshipman Brown excitedly offered his opinion, "Looks as if we’ve surprised them," he skipped over to Nate’s side to further his observation. "They are most likely passed out from drink."

    Nate waved the youngster back to his station along side Quartermaster Duncan. "Don’t be thinking we are so fortunate yet, William. These pirates survive on deception."

    Nate peered forward to where Falcon’s new gunner, Mr. Dean, stood over the bow chaser guns waiting for the signal to fire. A quick look past the bow chasers told Nate that the Raven was within firing range. With a nod of his head Nate signaled the gunner to open fire.

    Gunner Dean stood back from the starboard bow chaser, reached over and lit the fuse, then stood back once more and cupped his hands over his ears. The gun exploded, smoke billowed about the muzzle. The ball shot out and the gun rolled backwards on it’s carriage wheels.

    The gun crew watched the ball fall short, missing the Raven by fifty feet or more. Gunner Dean snapped at the crew, "Reload!" Then he moved to the larboard chase gun and repeated his firing ritual. This time the ball barely missed the Raven, landing within feet of her bow and splashing bay water on her decks.

    The cutter, Dart, could be seen approaching the Raven from the north channel.

    Lieutenant Fauth pointed to the Dart, "We’ve got her trapped now, Captain." He ran to the rail and stared forward at the Raven who still showed no activity. "Caught ‘em sleeping, we did!"

    Nate joined Fauth at the rail, "It should not be this simple, Mr. Fauth."

    Suddenly a puff of gun smoke appeared on the Raven’s bow. The ball fell well short of the Falcon.

    Lieutenant Fauth pointed as he excitedly shouted, "Look, Sir! She is trapped." Fauth’s mouth dropped open as he and Nate watched the Raven’s bow begin to swing away from the Content, ever so slightly at first, then rapidly, as the end of the spring line fell into the water.

    Pirates swarmed up the Raven’s rigging and sails began to drop. She swung to the east with her aft line as a pivot point. She was now at a right angle to the still anchored, Content. Three pirates leaped from the deck of the Content to the Raven, then the aft line was cut. Her sails filled and she shot toward the eastern channel like a race horse off the mark. The officers and men of the Falcon stared in disbelief.

    "Deck, ahoy," Seaman Austin frantically shouted down to his captain without awaiting acknowledgment, "Smoke on the Content, Sir!"

    Nate grabbed the telescope and pressed it to his right eye, "They’ve set her afire to slow us down," he moved the glass toward the Dart. "Knobbs is coming up fast, let him attend the Content." Nate turned to Quartermaster Duncan and Midshipman Brown, "Follow the pirate, Mr. Brown."

    Midshipman Brown nodded his head to Quartermaster Duncan who was already turning the ship’s wheel to pursue the Raven.

    Nate pushed his first officer toward the bow, "Lieutenant Fauth, have Gunner Dean to continue firing on that ship!"

    Falcon turned from her southward position to follow the Raven into the east channel. Her topsails puffed with additional wind as she commenced her turn, she increased her speed and it appeared that with the current angle she would cut off the fleeing pirate ship.

    Suddenly she stopped. Run up on a hidden sand bar. Loose gear flew forward then back aft at the sudden stop of momentum. Nate looked up to see if she would loose her mast or rigging. The mast, sails and line swung forward. He held his breath to see if they would snap off. Time stood still as he watched them swing way forward then slightly downward. His hand turned white from gripping his sword. He still dared not to breathe. The rigging ceased to move forward but held there for several tormenting moments, sweat streamed down Nate’s face. Then the rigging swung back to the original positions. Nate let out his breath and took a giant breath in, filling his lungs. Minimum damage! He smiled to himself.

    Leaning over the rail to see the Raven race past into the channel, Nate shouted, "Damn, lighten ship!" He raced amidships, pointing at every man in view, "Throw everything over the side but weapons and powder!"

    Bosun Edwards raced past, herding the men down the forward ladder while the carpenter, Mr. Underhill, directed men to open the hatch. "Food and water, also, Captain?"

    Nate whirled around to watch the rapidly departing Raven. "Yes! Everything, Mr. Underhill!"

    Within fifteen minutes enough weight was thrown over the side to raise the Falcon the few feet she needed to float over the sand bar. The men cheered, "Hurrah! Hurrah!"

    Nate jumped down from the quarterdeck, skipping all the steps, waving his arms, "Now men! Back to your stations! We’ve got to catch those fellows!"

    The topsails dropped and filled with the fresh wind, the Falcon picked up speed and slipped into the channel then turned east, following the speedy Raven.

    Nate stared ahead, his eyes fixed on the Raven’s his thoughts of futility. transom. The Falcon will never catch her with her speed, and he lowered his head in thought.

    Cheering from up forward brought Nate from He looked to see the reason for the cheering and saw the distant sails of the Valliant entering the channel, blocking the Raven’s escape.

    He shouted to no one in particular, "We’ve got her now!"

    Just then the Raven did a strange maneuver. She slowed and dropped a sea anchor from her transom. Her sails were pulled in and she began to swing around till she faced the Falcon. They cut her anchor, dropped her sails and she shot back down the channel toward the Falcon.

    Nate now stood at the Falcon’s bow, watching the strange maneuver. He rubbed his chin and observed to himself. Quite a skilled sailor, that Harry Rowe fellow.

    Just as suddenly as she had performed the first maneuver, Raven turned as the pirate Rowe ran her nose up on the sand bar at the north edge of the channel.

    "What the hell is he doing, Sir?" The gunner questioned his captain.

    Nate looked about his ship as she drew closer to the now anchored Raven with her nose stuck on the sand bar. "He has given up on escape, Mr. Dean." Nate gazed up to the sails where the top men still manned their stations then back at the gunner. "He knows if he is captured they will all hang! He intends to fight it out with us!" Nate looked back at Falcon’s gun deck and continued, "He is going to chop us and the Valliant to pieces with his broadsides, while while we can only bring our bow chasers to bear. Nate looked forward at the Raven once more to gage the distance, then slowly he walked back to the quarterdeck.

    Gunner Dean shook his head and smiled at his gun crew. "Now there is one hell of an officer!" He tapped the gun captain on the back and pointed to Nate, "You’d think he was on a stroll in the park."

    Nate’s heart was almost beating out of his chest. This plan had better work or we’ll be smashed to kindling. He reached the quarterdeck and took his place facing forward, all eyes on the ship were watching him. They all knew what the pirate sloop would do to them and the Falcon if he did not do something soon.

    He cleared his throat and thought. Timing is everything. "Mr. Fauth, have the top men told to prepare to pull in the sails on my command." His heart continued to pound, there was a loud ringing in his ears but he waited patiently while the order was passed.

    The he turned to Midshipman Brown and Quartermaster Duncan, "Gentlemen, on my command you are to turn the ship hard to larboard. I intend to wedge the ship in the sand bar and give this pirate some of his own medicine."

    Nate could see those men in earshot expel their held breath and loosen up with broad smiles. Soon the captain’s intentions were spread throughout the ship and an air of confidence gripped them all.

    Nate looked past the gunner and his crew and once more at the pirate ship wedged on the sand bar as the Falcon neared his chosen spot for her turn. "Mr. Duncan, turn the ship, if you please." Falcon began her hard turn to larboard. She leaned to starboard from the momentum of her sudden change in direction. The first lieutenant immediately shouted the order to reef the sails upon Nate’s nod of the head. The Falcon slowed but still hit the sand bar with enough force to push the bow several feet out of the water as she came to rest snugly impaled on the sand bar.

    Walking to the starboard rail Nate wrapped his hand around a mast stay line and watched the steady fire from the pirate’s cannons. "Fire at will, Mr. Fauth!"

    The deadly barrage from Falcon’s six pound cannons made short work of the Raven’s hull and rigging. Soon she began to settle down in the water.

    "She is sinking, Sir!" Fauth spoke to a Nate who stared, trance like, at the carnage taking place on the Raven’s deck. "Shall we cease firing, Sir?"

    Looking over his shoulder, Nate saw the smoldering mast where the Content lay anchored, such a short time ago. The Dart was approaching Falcon with the survivors watching the battle from her bow. "One more broadside, Mr. Fauth, for the crew of the Content!"

    "Captain!" Fauth rushed to Nate’s side. "Someone is shouting for you from the Raven."

    Every man on the Falcon abandoned the Dart and rushed to the Falcon’s starboard rail.

    The voice shouted at the Falcon again, "Captain! Ye hav killed me!" The voice grew louder as a man stepped up on the Raven’s aft cabin sky light. He held a young man in front of him. There was a knife held against the man’s throat. "I be mortal wounded, I be a die’n but ye ain’t won. You son of a Portsmouth whore!" The man almost fell but grabbed a stay line with his free hand. "Dis here be young Bobby Dunsmoore wid me," the pirate’s gray stubbled face grimaced in pain. "Hey, ye ain’t won noth’n, I wins da final batt’l. Harry Rowe slid the knife across the young man’s throat and pushed him into the sea. Without another word Harry Rowe, collapsed. His body slumped then fell into the sea after the young man he had just killed.

    Nate leaned against the rail, "Well, Martin, I’ve made a mess of this, haven’t I?"

    "You’ve stopped a terrible killer pirate from molesting local merchantmen," Martin Fauth tried to cheer his captain.

    "Yes, but I let Rowe burn Mr. Dunsmore’s ship and kill his son," Nate turned back for a last look at the Raven and noticed the Valliant easing past the wrecked ship as she neared the Falcon. "That’s two failures out of three."

    "Captain Beauchamp!" Nate looked up to see Simon Nobbs smiling with his arm around the shoulder of a young man of no more than seventeen.

    "What are you smiling at, Simon?" Nate slowly shook his head, "This mission is a failure."

    Simon continued to smile at Nate, "Not quite , Captain." He pushed the young man toward Nate. "I’d like you to meet, Mr. Robert Dunsmore."

    Nate’s head snapped up, "How can that be?" Nate nodded to the Raven, "Who just got his throat cut then?"

    Young Robert stepped forward with his hand extended, "Thank you, Captain, for rescuing us." He too nodded to the Raven, "That young man was my man servant and my best friend," Robert hung his head and continued. "James insisted that he take my place when it appeared the pirates would board us." Robert looked up with tears in his eyes, we exchanged clothes and he even wore my ring." He looked down again, "he saved my life."

    Nate patted the young man’s back, "that he did, young sir, that he did."

    "Captain Beauchamp," Simon Nobbs pulled Nate away from the sobbing Robert Dunnsmore. "Shall we see if we can get the Falcon off this sand bar?"

Copyright © Joseph L. O'Steen  and Snug Harbor Novels 2003