Michael Fields Book Three Hero of the American Revolution

MICHAEL FIELDS

Book Three

Hero of the American Revolution

By

Daniel J. Cashman

Copyright, 1990, Daniel J. Cashman

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE SLAVES

SPRING, 1779

The tropical sun warmed Michael as he stood at the wheel of the PASSAIC FALCON. Below him, on the main deck, the crew was busy with the myriad tasks necessary to keep her ship shape. Above him, sailors were climbing the rigging to trim the sails and make the most of the wind. Since the first day of her southward voyage, he had taken the helm and cruised with her till she was no longer a stranger. The PASSAIC FALCON handled smoothly under his hand and the crew responded sharply to his commands, keeping her trim, clipping along with the wind and crashing though the swells barring her way. The PASSAIC FALCON was a first-rate Frigate. Her decks were solid, and the three masts held canvas by the acre. At the stern, a second deck rose above the main. Called the After Castle, it is the traditional station of the Captain and location of the ship's navigation compass and wheel. Directly below, down a companionway, is the chart room and the Captain’s cabin, quarters which he shares with Stella and Andrea.

For the first time since they left Chestnut Neck, Stella stood at his side; the seasickness that had bedeviled her from the day of their departure had finally passed. Though she was a seaman's daughter, she had never been beyond the Great Bay and the trial of her first ocean voyage had left her pale and drawn. Today, she clung to Michael's shoulder and looked down to the main deck where Andrea was being tended by Catherine and Elizabeth, Eric’s adopted children. The officers and crew were men she had known at Chestnut Neck. Senior among them was Count Rhordon who had signed on as Navigator and Master Gunner but acted more as a counselor to the Captain. The first mate was a crusty sailor named Terrance McDougal. He had spent ten years as a Royal Marine and had the strength of personality to run the ship by the sheer volume of his voice. Martin Shea, sporting the scar he had earned smuggling with Michael, acted as second mate and Eric Smyth, his childhood friend from Barbadoes Neck, was third.

Michael’s countenance was sedate and his appearance calm as he stood at the wheel. The crew, to a man, knew of his reputation as a warrior and leader, none would think of ruffling his calm demeanor for fear of seeing first hand his legendary violence. His word was law. His whim was command. His orders were obeyed without question.

Like many merchantmen and privateers of the day, nearly half the crew were married and brought their wives and children with them. The living conditions among the crew were centered on the family. The quarters were simple and dividing curtains were respected as a request for privacy. The single men lived in the forward holds. Their lives, although a little more rowdy than the married members, were marked by a respect for the women and an avuncular attitude toward the children. Each crewman was an acquaintance who had come forward at the crewing session or had brought references from other Captains who sailed from Chestnut Neck. All were fully aware of Michael’s reputation and considered him to be good luck.

Aboard the Privateers, the families worked side by side with the single crewmen. The women conduct themselves as sailors and share the shipboard tasks. They climb the rigging, swab the decks and under the tutelage of Count Rhordon, learn how to fire the cannons. The men wore closely tailored trousers with thirteen buttons on the front while the women wore looser fitting trousers with a belt and buckle around the waist. Both wore stockings that came up to the pants just below the knee. As the weather warmed, coats were shed and the crew uniformly wore plain white linen shirts bereft of any lace or decorations aside from jewelry worn around the neck.

The younger children had virtual free roam of the ship. For the first days they had stayed close to their mothers, but as shipboard life took on a rhythm as ingrained as those on land, they tended to wander farther, exploring every nook and cranny of the vessel. The older children took on tasks of their own, fetching and carrying, swabbing and cleaning, they carried their weight as true crew members and in a gun fight; they were expected to carry powder, shot and water to the gunners.

Count Rhordon resumed the job he loved best; teaching the Artilleryman’s trade to the inexperienced crew. Every day he worked the men and women through the loading and firing drills. He commanded their attention by force of personality and the certain knowledge that the lessons he taught were the ones that would make the difference between success or being sunk in their first encounter. The equipment he had to work with was quite satisfactory. Before leaving the Great Bay, the FALCON's decks had been altered to accommodate additional cannon and now held twenty-eight guns. Twenty-four guns were mounted on the main deck, twelve each, facing port and starboard. These guns, called Sakers, measured nine feet in length and hurled a load of shot weighing anywhere from six to eight pounds. At both the bow and stern, two huge Culverin chase guns gave her long range attack and defense power. Each of these giants measured 12 feet and fired a load of shot that could weigh up to twenty-four pounds. These cannons were as big as the Garrison guns Michael had manned at Fort Washington and every time he stood next to them he remembered the crews that had fought with absolute determination through the siege. Around the rail, a series of small guns mounted on swivels had been installed. Known as Swivel Guns, they were actually small cannons, fired like a musket, to put a deadly load of shot on a target to support close quarters combat.

The crew had come prepared for battle. Each of the hands owned their own weapons, usually a pistol and a sword or cutlass and an assortment of muskets and rifles. Beyond that, the ship, itself, was a warehouse of weaponry. Belaying pins, pikes, cargo hooks and hardwood handles of varying lengths were readily at hand. In the ship's store, there was an additional twenty rifles and, in the magazine, a substantial supply of powder and shot.

The morale of the crew was high, they were looking forward to taking their first prize on the high seas and Michael was pleased they didn’t have to wait long. Their first opportunity presented itself as they approached the Bahamas. At early evening, the lookout spotted a ship's light on the horizon and called his alert. As they closed in on her, the lookout reported she was a merchant Brigantine plying the wind south. Through the night, the crew of the PASSAIC FALCON conducted their tasks by the light of the stars and the moon, keeping their running lights off and raising as much sail cloth as they could. They tacked eastward until dawn then paralleled their prey till sunrise and with the sun rising behind them, they turned west and headed straight in on their target.

The Brigantine had two masts and a flat deck. The rising sun played on her bowsprit and the name, FAITH. A tremor of anguish shot through Michael’s spirit as he remembered the gentle touch of his lost love. He had not thought of her for weeks now and the awakened memory hurt. He turned his concentration back to the task at hand, steadied the wheel and closed in. She was flying the British Union Jack and probably carrying refugees from New York and Philadelphia to the British controlled islands of the Caribbean. He turned the helm over to his third mate. Eric stepped up confidently and took the wheel.

Michael limped to the rail and looked down onto the main deck. Count Rhordon was standing by his gunners waiting for the order to open fire. McDougal and Shea were huddled with their boarding parties, crouched down at the rail, each anxiously handling their cutlass and pistols, waiting with grappling hooks and lines to tie up to their prey and storm over the side.

Stella stood at the bow rail loading a swivel gun. She was shaking visibly and having a hard time pouring the primer powder into the touchhole. She stopped her task, took a deep breath and began again. A faint cry of alarm carried across the rolling waves as the PASSAIC FALCON closed to near point-blank range. The ship’s bell rang out calling the crew to quarters. The merchantman turned to run and veered out of the wind. Her sails luffed and fell limp. Michael looked to Eric and shook his head. The pilot had committed a fatal error. He looked down to the main deck where Rhordon stood and nodded.

Chase gun number one fired. The ball splashed into the water at the bow of the target. Port side deck gun number 6 fired, placing its shot into the water astern of the target. Count Rhordon stood between the port guns 2 and 3 staring intently at his target, his hand dropped and both guns roared, placing their shots directly amidships. The shots punched neat holes in the hull, just above the water line and the Brig struck her colors without firing back.

The PASSAIC FALCON pulled alongside of her and the boarding parties stormed over the rail, gathering the passengers and crew at gunpoint. The ship's Captain stood before Michael in his nightshirt shaking and presented his plea, Sir, we have offered no resistance. We have done nothing. Take this vessel, if you must, but let my crew and passengers flee with our lives.

Michael pondered the plea for a moment, then nodded his head and gave the order that they be set into the long boats with food, water, compass and a chart and be allowed to make for land unmolested. As the Captain went over the side to join his crew and passengers, Michael spoke with him in hushed tones. I wish you no evil. Your journey to land should take you little more than a day. You have four days’ worth of provisions.

The Captain of the FAITH trembled as he spoke. I thank you for your mercy, Captain Fields but I shall report this act of piracy to the Admiralty. Michael turned his back on the Captain and stood silently at the rail watching as the loaded long boats pulled away. Behind him, the ship's carpenter, Vanderbeec, begged the Captains pardon and reported on the extent of the damage amid ships. Captain, our shots left two neat holes at the water line. She is not taking on a lot of water and we can patch them in an hour. Permanent repairs will take a day. Other than that, she is seaworthy and stable. Michael designated a skeleton crew, commanded by Eric, to stay aboard FAITH to conduct an inventory of the cargo and get her under way. Captain Fields saluted Captain Smythe as he took the helm of the FAITH and a cheer broke out from the skeleton crew. The crew knew it was the daring of their Captain that had allowed them to take their first prize without a single casualty

-*-

The air was oppressively humid and the mid-day sun beat down on the decks making the planks too hot to walk on without shoes. The ships navigated delicately through the shallows of the Bahamas and gently slid into a sheltered cove with a view of the channel approaching Andros Island. Michael liked the location and ordered his crews to drop anchor and set up their base of operations here. Palm fronds were cut and lashed to the masts to disguise them and a lookout was posted in the top crows nest to signal the approach of targets or British war ships. Over the next days, the ship's crews manned their guns and stood by as convoys with armed escorts came through the channel. But they were in no rush and waited patiently for an unlucky solitary sailor.

The Bahamas was a stronghold of Tory refugees from New York and Philadelphia who had been driven from their homes by General Washington’s army. Almost daily, convoys of ships passed through the narrow channels bringing the displaced settlers and their possessions to New Providence Island. As Michael’s crews watched and waited, the cove became an idyllic hideaway. The crewmen and families quickly strung their hammocks among the coconut trees along the soft white sand beach and then built thatch huts to live in rather than staying shipboard. The gently lapping surf was nothing like the cold, violent Atlantic they knew in New Jersey. The water was warm, clear, shallow and lapped the beach so gently, the parents felt no fear in allowing their children to roam free over the beach and frolic in the water. The jungle provided exotic fruits like mangos, bananas and coconuts that were unknown in New Jersey and created an instant sensation among the crew as they discovered ways to add new flavors to meals. Wild pigs were caught and penned, the local reptiles, iguanas, were found to be quite tasty when slow roasted and basted with mango. Fish were plentiful and easily netted but fresh water was not to be found and presented a serious problem as the ship's stores began to run low.

Every day, search parties went into the forest to explore the island in search of fresh water and food. On the fourth day of their residence, Martin's party returned leading a column of Indians, carrying gourds of water, bundles of fresh fruit and livestock. The Indians, dressed only in loin cloths, were received cordially but with some embarrassment among the women. The language barrier was breached by the universal language of barter that was employed to exchange a bolt of red cloth and two knives for the location of a fresh water spring. The Indians returned every day after that to trade with the Americans for more cloth, rum and metal tools.

Shipboard duty was rotated among the crew and since it took only a handful of crew to watch for a target and keep the palm leaf camouflage fresh there was ample time for relaxation. The repair party working on the FAITH quickly replaced the timbers and planks shattered by the FALCON'S shots and after a shakedown cruise that confirmed her crew she returned to the lagoon ready for action.

-*-

The lazy morning was drifting into afternoon. The day’s purchase of supplies had been stowed. The task of selecting piglets to be slaughtered for the evening roast had just begun when, the lookout called from his perch at the edge of the jungle, Ship ahoy.

Michael and Stella looked up from their shady nook under the coconut trees at the edge of the beach and lazily strolled toward the FALCON. At the water's edge, half a dozen young children playing in the gently rolling surf stopped their games and looked to their parents. Eric and Carol roused themselves from their noontime nap, rolled off their shaded hammock and walked hand in hand to the water's edge to collect their girls.

Michael met Rhordon on the camouflaged After Deck of the FALCON, he was peering through his telescope examining the ship passing in the channel, Do you believe the luck of it, he said! Eine gross hendelsschiff, achhh. A fat merchantman riding low in der wasser! Sie est fully loaded and here we are, rested und ready. If we hurry, we can ride the outgoing tide und catch her before dark. Rhordon's appraisal of the target and Michael’s approval set the crew scurrying about the beachside haven gathering up their necessities for the coming chase.

Behind the screen of cut palm leaves, the crew stood by their stations until the vessel passed. Michael appraised her and agreed she was a worthy prize. Upon his order, the anchors were weighed, the screen dropped and with the tide pulling them out of their lair, the PASSAIC FALCON and the newly outfitted FAITH sprang to the chase.

-*-

The merchantman was just out of cannon range. Michael called for more sail and ordered the Union Jack to be raised. The crew scoured over the decks cleaning away the telltale evidence of the casual, style of a privateer and transformed the decks to the standards of His Majesties Royal Navy. Mrs. McDougal was the last of the woman to slip off the FALCON’S deck but before ducking under cover, she looked around with a practiced eye and made a final inspection. She called to the young man stationed at the mizzen to put away his pipe and to a gunner to correct the line of his uniform, then closed the hatchway behind her. Ten years as the wife of a Royal Marine, she knew military order.

The Brigantine tacked across the wind and then back down, deliberately allowing the FALCON and FAITH to catch up with her. They think we're English, Rhordon reported to the crew. They’re going to let us catch up. A low murmur of approval carried across the deck as the crew attended to their duties in the best military manner they could contrive.

Michael stood by the rail, resplendent in the uniform of a royal Navy Captain; hands clasped behind his back while a young man at the wheel followed his orders and brought the PASSAIC FALCON ever closer. The plan to approach their prey by deception was working and when they were in hailing distance, he delivered his command with the ease of an experienced leader and in a heavy English accent he had practiced on the beach at Andros Island.