The Tempest: The Dorset Boy Book 5 Page 2

  Likewise, your occupation, from where and whence you came

  My name is Jack the Rover, from Dub-i-lin Town, I do come

  And I live alongside of the Ups and Downs

  Sing: Fal-the-ral-looral-i-day

  Returning home from the market, her butter it being all sold

  And a-losing of her maidenhead, it made her blood run cold

  O it's gone, it's gone, so let it go, it's gone to the lad I adore

  And he lives alongside of the Ups and Downs

  And I'll never see him any more

  Marty laughed at this and when they started the next, he sang along as he knew this one.

  Take your fingers off it, and don't you dare touch it,

  You know it don't belong to you.

  Take your fingers off it, and don't you dare touch it,

  You know it don't belong to you.

  You know it's sad to see a woman, an extra good 'un'

  Holdin' back on her sugar puddin',

  Take your fingers off it, and don't you dare touch it,

  You know it don't belong to you.

  Two old maids a-laying in bed,

  One turned over toward the other and said,

  Take your fingers off it, don't you dare touch it,

  You know it don't belong to you.

  There were several more verses all bawdier than the rest.

  They played a ballad then a love song that many of the men knew. Marty was surprised at the quality of some of the voices as there were a couple of distinctive baritones, a number of sweet tenors, and even one who could sing like a woman. Then, at the end of one of the songs, the ten Africans stepped into the middle of the group and started to stamp their feet in a rhythm. Samuel started to sing in their native language. It was a haunting melody and spoke of loss and loneliness, the savannah and forests of their homeland without anyone understanding the words. Then, the others joined in in a complex harmony that tore at the heartstrings. When they finished, there was silence for a few moments, then the men started to disperse. Many of them approached the ten and patted them on the shoulder or shook their hands.

  Marty thought of Caroline as he went back to his cot to try and sleep, but his thoughts ranged from the melancholy to erotic. It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 2: Aruba Aruba

  The next morning, they left St. John’s and headed toward Aruba. The wind was from the Northeast, and they decided to make a direct dash Southwest that would end at the Northern tip of the island so they could make the port on the West side. This would take them past the Archipelago of Guadeloupe, which was held by the French.

  Marty didn’t know anything about Guadeloupe apart from the fact that it was a massive sugar producer. The Islands had once been owned by the British but was given back to France in 1763. After that, it was independent for a while then went back to the British after a slave revolt. Now, it was French after Bonaparte had taken control in 1802.

  In the end, curiosity got the better of him, and he asked the master to take them to Port-Louis so they could have a look. They ran up a French flag as they got closer and carefully picked their way through the many islands on the approach. The port itself was small, much to Marty’s surprise, it wasn’t even in an inlet just sort of tacked on to the coast. There were a couple of merchantmen and three French Navy frigates anchored there. From the activity, the merchantmen were getting ready to sail.

  They continued down the coast to try and get into what was marked on the map as the Cul de Sac. This was the narrow passage between the two islands that formed the wings of the butterfly that made up the majority of the archipelago. The coast they were following belonged to the island of Grande Terre. It was separated from Colbes Terre by a narrow river of sea and the top end of it was a mess of small islands and reefs.

  They soon came upon a reef that seemed to run right across the entrance to the Cul de Sac and deciding discretion was the better course, turned North and edged their way out. They turned a couple of point West of Southwest once clear of the islands and headed down to Aruba. They estimated it would take three days to get there.

  The sea was empty for the rest of the day and at dawn the next morning, there was not a sail in sight. With the wind practically on their stern, the apparent wind over the deck was almost non-existent and the temperature soared. The tar between the seams of the deck planks was melting and sticky underfoot, and the crew took to wearing shoes as the tar was hot enough to burn the soles of bare feet.

  They were just looking forward to lunch when the lookout called,

  “SAIL HO!”

  “WHERE AWAY?” James called up, as it was his watch.

  “THREE POINTS OFF THE LARBOARD BOW. HE AIN’T SEEN US YET. HE’S HEADING NORTHWEST.”

  Marty came up on the quarterdeck, attracted by the noise.

  “Sail sighted, Skipper. Heading towards us at the moment. Haven’t identified what it is,” James reported, “Shall I send Matai up? He has sharp eyes.”

  “Aye, do that,” Marty agreed.

  Matai went up the rigging like a squirrel and was soon settled into the crosstrees. He took his time, first scanning the horizon with naked eyes then concentrating on the approaching sail with a small telescope he slung on a cord around his neck.

  “PINNACE,” he called down. “HE’S TURNED TOWARDS US.”

  “What the hell is a Pinnace doing out here?” Marty asked to no one in particular.

  “HOW BIG?” he called to Matai.

  “SINGLE MASTED, FORE AND AFT RIG.”

  “Ships boat?” James speculated.

  “Could be, but let’s not take chances. Get the ship to quarters, but don’t run out the guns,” Marty commanded.

  James went to work calling out commands, and Tom appeared from below, looking like he had just woken up.

  “Did we wake you?” Marty grinned at him.

  “No, I’ve been on watch all night and thought I would catch up on my reading lessons,” Tom replied sarcastically; he was a bear when he missed sleep. “What’s up?”

  Marty grinned and filled him in and Matai called down.

  “He’s flying a British flag!”

  “Run up British colours,” Marty commanded, and young Stanley Hart, one of the ships boys who he was training in signalling, ran to obey.

  “He would make a good mid in the Navy,” Tom observed, watching him run the colours up then shouted,

  “We are not in distress! Get the bloody flag on the right way up, you idiot!”

  Marty laughed and said,

  “We all did that once or twice when we were young.”

  They steered to intercept the small craft. Once it was hull up from the deck, Marty could see that it was indeed a large ship’s boat, probably from a large merchantman. They hove to as it got close, let it pull up on their leeward side, and hook onto their chains. A tall man dressed in the manner of a merchant captain came up the side where Marty greeted him.

  “Edmund Harding, recently captain of the merchantman Pride of York,” he announced himself.

  Marty shook his hand and replied,

  “Martin Stanwell, Captain of the Tempest, privateer under British letter of Marque. Forgive me for asking, but where is your ship?”

  “Taken by a bloody American pirate yesterday, about two-hundred-and-fifty-miles Northwest of Trinidad. He put us in the ship’s boat and stole the Pride cargo and all.”

  “Please get your people onboard,” Marty said. “Do you have anyone who needs assistance?”

  “A couple of wounded and my wife,” Captain Harding replied.

  They rigged a bosun’s chair and soon had the wounded men and Mrs. Harding out of the pinnace and onto the deck. In all, there were around twenty crew plus the captain his wife and First Mate. They tied the pinnace up behind the Tempest and made sail.

  Down in his cabin, Marty invited them to join him for lunch and asked them to describe what happened to them.

  “We left Trinidad with five hundred to
n of sugar and molasses three days ago and were on our way to Jamaica to join a convoy to cross the Atlantic. We were only underway for two days when we saw a sail coming at us from the West,” Harding told them.

  “He were fast,” chipped in the first mate. Arthur Bowden, a small pugnacious man with a bald head and a wispy, ginger beard, “one of them Baltimore clippers.”

  Marty raised his eyebrows in question at that.

  “I seen them in Boston when I were there,” he explained.

  “What armament did he have?” Marty asked.

  “Six, six-pounders per side,” Harding said. “He didn’t need them. They swung around our stern and boarded us. There must have been a hundred of them,” Harding continued with a morose look.

  “Our boys were hurt when they didn’t get out of the way fast enough,” Bowden chipped in.

  “Once they set you adrift in the pinnace, which way did they head?” Marty asked.

  “Last we saw, they were heading Southwest,” Harding stated.

  Marty pulled out a map and asked Harding to show where they were intercepted then he looked at possible destinations. Curaçao and Bonaire were right on that heading and the pirate could probably sell the ship and cargo there. It would be worth a look later but now he needed to get more men, so Aruba was still his destination.

  “What will you do once we get you to Aruba?” Marty asked Captain Harding.

  “Look for a ship that can take us home,” he replied, reaching out to hold his wife’s hand. “The Pride was insured, so I will use the money to open a chandlery. I’m tired of being at sea and this was going to be our last trip.”

  “Our children are grown up and having children of their own and we want to see them grow up,” his wife added, looking wistfully at her husband.

  So, your crew is shipless, Marty thought then excused himself as he rose to go on deck.

  “Tom!” he called as he reached the quarterdeck. Tom left what he was doing over by the log and walked over to meet Marty halfway.

  “Check the crew of that pinnace and see if any of them want to sign on. Their skipper is going back to England and won’t be looking for another ship,” Marty informed him.

  He gave up his cabin for the Harding’s and slept on deck in an improvised cot. It was actually cooler than below, and he slept well. Blaez kept watch on his boss, which kept everyone at a safe distance. The watch was especially quiet. When the lookouts changed, they did it in whispers.

  The next afternoon, they rounded the Northern end of Aruba and headed into the harbour. They came into Horse Bay and dropped anchor.

  Marty negotiated with the Harding’s for the pinnace and paid forty guineas for it. Armed, it would be a valuable scout boat. Fifteen of the crew signed on to the Tempest’s complement, so it was that they rowed seven people over to the shore. He needed another ten, at least.

  Aruba’s harbour was just a bay with a sheltering reef and a convenient gap to allow ship’s access. There was a wooden dock which they tied up against to be met by an official. He noted the name of their ship, who the captain was, and demanded a ‘docking fee’ of ten shillings. Marty looked to Harding, who nodded, so he paid the man.

  The town was small and showed the influence its former Dutch owners had on it. The houses were tidy and colourful and there was an unusually high number of merchants in evidence. They said their goodbyes to their passengers, who agreed to take their letters with them amongst which was a letter of introduction to Caroline. Marty made them a small loan so they could live comfortably and pay for their voyage home. He had a notion that Harding could be useful to their growing fleet.

  Marty sent Fletcher with James to replenish their stores and went for a walk along the road to see what was on sale. There were two ship’s chandlers, cloth merchants, shipping agent, liquor store, dried food, and a grocer- almost all with Dutch names over the door. There were also two taverns and a whorehouse. Marty stopped off at the first of the taverns, the Happy Mutineer, and took a table overlooking the harbour. The Tempest looked good in the setting sun, her red sails, even when furled up on the yards, caught the light and seemed to glow.

  “What can I get you, sir?” said a soft voice that had a slight Dutch twang to the accent. “We have roast chicken and goose for dinner tonight.”

  Marty looked up into a pair of beautiful blue eyes set in a very pretty face and realised how far up he was having to look. She was an amazon! Recovering quickly, he asked for a bottle of red wine and the roast chicken dinner.

  The girl was Josee van Meerlo and she was the landlord’s daughter. She was sixteen years old and almost six feet tall. She wasn’t skinny either but delightfully curvy. If Marty hadn’t been married, he would have been sorely tempted. In fact, he was, if he was honest, but the thought of Caroline kept his ardour under control. James and Fletcher arrived and joined him at the table, saving him from temptation.

  Josee came to take their order, and James looked as if he was struck by lightning when he looked up at her. He blushed furiously, developed a stammer, and looked like he was mule-kicked in the stomach. She in return fluttered her eyelashes and smiled at him, devastatingly unleashing her dimples on the stricken man.

  Fletcher looked at Marty with a grin and said,

  “We had better order for the boy; he seems to have swallowed his tongue.”

  Marty grinned and said to Josee,

  “Mr. James Campbell will have the chicken dinner and a glass of brandy to help him recover his equilibrium.”

  She giggled and set off to the kitchen with a slightly exaggerated swish of the hips and a glance over her shoulder just for James.

  The two older men took every opportunity to tease the poor lad there and then.

  “I believe our young friend is smitten!” started Fletcher

  “Aye, he is obviously into the Amazonian type,” Marty quipped.

  “Have to be careful with a woman like that,” Fletcher came back.

  “Oh? And why is that?” Marty replied, setting him up for the line.

  “Well, if she gets passionate with those long legs and wraps them around you in the moment of passion, she could break your back!”

  “Not only that,” Marty replied, “who will you talk to?”

  Both men roared with laughter as the look on James’ face as their shots went home was a picture.

  They relented as Josee returned with a very large brandy for James and a bottle of wine for Marty and Fletcher to share. She only had eyes for James and him for her. Fletcher and Marty looked at each other and made lovey faces but the youngsters didn’t notice.

  The chicken was excellent, followed by a creamy concoction with ginger and lime, for which they ordered a sweet Madera in accompaniment. Marty asked Josee if he could talk to her father. She looked alarmed and glanced at James. Marty laughed and told her not to worry- he wouldn’t get in the way of young love. That sent Fletcher to chortle again and the two youngsters to blush furiously.

  The landlord was not a tall man, which surprised Marty given the length his daughter had grown to. He was rotund and blond with a ruddy face. Marty explained they were in port to recruit good men and that he would pay a bounty on any he could send his way.

  The landlord told him he knew there were a few men looking for a place on a privateer and asked what the prize rules were. Marty explained that a quarter went to the ship, a quarter to the captain, and the rest split by even shares to the rest of the crew, including mates. Van Meerlo accepted that as it was a fairly standard formula if the captain was also financing the ship, which was the cover story that Marty was working under.

  They stayed drinking brandy until nearly midnight and in that time, they recruited another six men. The ship’s boat came and picked up Marty and Fletcher. James had disappeared somewhere between the tavern and the dock.

  The next morning, Marty went ashore again and returned to the tavern. James sat at a table eating breakfast, so he joined him.

  “Good night?” Marty asked as he
sat down.

  James blushed and replied,

  “I stayed with her family. We just talked and …. We just talked, that’s all.”

  Marty smiled at him and said,

  “You seem smitten and well and truly pierced by cupid’s arrow. It’s strange how it hits you.”

  “Was it the same for you and La…” he caught himself in time, “Caroline?” James asked.

  “What the thunderclap and the lightning? Yes, it was. She had me hooked from the time she spoke in my ear,” Marty replied with a laugh and when James looked puzzled, he said, “She snuck up behind me and whispered in my ear. Her voice turned my knees to jelly.”

  “Yes, I can see how that could happen. She has a glorious voice,” James answered and realising what he said, started to stutter an apology.

  “Don’t worry. I don’t take offence. The advantage of having a wife like Caroline is she can stand up for herself.”

  Van Meerlo came over and asked Marty what he would like for breakfast and he replied that he would just like some coffee as he had eaten on the ship. Josee served it blushing and Marty knew that sometime soon, he would be called upon to give his blessing as she only had eyes for his midshipman.

  Young love! he thought. I can’t blame him, it happened to me.

  He dragged James away and took him to the other tavern, which was a bit down market from The Happy Mutineer and was called the Flamingo. They ordered two beers and spoke to the Landlord, who was a squint-eyed, shifty-looking individual called Arnold.

  “So, you be lookin’ fer men,” he stated after Marty explained.

  This one’s a flagon short of a gallon, thought Marty without much hope.

  “I knows a few that might be interested. If you be here later, I will bring ‘em o’er,” Arnold promised.

  Marty took them for a walk around the town, and they found a stock yard which had just taken in a small herd of cattle. They had geese, chicken, ducks, and goats as well. Marty sent a message back to Fletcher to get himself over there and get the manger filled.