The Reaper

glass but he didn’t comment on it, not wanting to interrupt his host. After pacing back and forth in front of the big window, he stuck his fingers in the glass, retrieving the ice and popping it in his mouth, filling the room with a loud crunch. Noticing that Anthony was watching, the commodore said, “Not long ago I couldn’t chew ice. A good fellow in the colonies fixed me up with a good pair of choppers and now I can eat what I want. Fellow’s from Virginia and said he’d fixed a set for Colonel George Washington. Now I hear that Washington may lead an army against us.” He paused as he heard a rap on the door.

A midshipman entered. “The carriage is ready, Sir.”

“Very good. Gil, let’s be off to see that damn slaver. He was lucky, I tell you. Gabe was just damn lucky,” the commodore said again, his mind fixed on Gabe’s heroics and wounds.

Lieutenant Pope had been right. The captured vessel had been a slaver in its day. He showed Anthony and Commodore Gardner the ring bolts and chains which

were still in place. “I think Bart might have been right when he said ‘probably left to hold hostages.’” Gardner nodded but replied, “As far as we know, there’s been no request for ransom as yet.”

Anthony agreed but added, “Maybe they’ve not

captured the right person so far. Could be they’re

waiting for some big political capture or even a high

ranking officer.”

“Hopefully someone above commodore rank,”

Gardner added, to which Pope and Anthony had a

good laugh.

The slaver was a nimble vessel. She had proved that

when she had come about quick as you please and

poured a broadside into Shark.

“She’s a barque. With her sleek lines and finely

raked mast I’d say there was a fair amount of American

influence involved in her construction, if not American

built. She was certainly built as a slaver, otherwise her

hull would have been built wider to carry more cargo

like the British barques we’re used to. She’s also got a

fair amount of armament,” Buck said, joining in the

conversation. “Do you think she got those off of

captured English ships?”

“I’m not sure,” Pope answered. “But they would

have slowed her down too much when she was being

used as a slaver. They were probably added when she

turned pirate.”

“It’s hard to believe there’d be that much more

profit in piracy than in slavery,” Anthony commented.

“Well sir, only the survivors share the plunder in

piracy,” Pope stated.

Commodore Gardner had long since placed a

handkerchief over his nose. “My God! How’d any of

them manage to stand the stench?”

Anthony took a step back from Gardner. After his

comment about the smell, Anthony noticed his friend

looked pale and ready to lose his lunch. Pope and Buck

didn’t appear to notice, or chose to ignore Gardner’s

discomfort.

“The scum we captured were no cleaner than slavers. No doubt they were as used to the slaver’s stench as their own filth,” Anthony said.

“Well, filthy or not, they proved hard men. Those sixteen twelve-pounders were well manned,” Pope volunteered.

“Aye,” Buck acknowledged.

Just looking at the Shark was proof of that. “I’d like to take those two long nines. They’re in better shape than our bow chasers,” Buck said, hoping to make a swap for the newer guns.

Anthony nodded, but didn’t say anything. No use to create more paperwork when it wasn’t necessary. It was sometimes easier to ask forgiveness than to obtain permission.

With all the talk about the guns going on, Pope couldn’t help but recall that first onslaught. His body gave an involuntary shudder. “Thank God they were after plunder and not trying to sink us. Otherwise the lot of us would be goners.” Pope had put to words what the others were thinking. “Had they known the size of our crew they would have stood off and pounded us into submission or sunk us. We’re lucky they were boarding before they realized we were more than a coastal trader.”

The battle had become so intense that once the pirates had gotten their blood up they failed to keep a lookout. Drakkar and the schooners had arrived before the pirates knew what was happening. One minute they’d all but taken Shark. The next they’d been taken.

“The whoresons got what they deserved,” Bart commented for the first time. “I lost a few mates among the jack tars and marines they kilt.”

Many had died and some were still recovering in the hospital. Anthony was actually glad Gabe had talked him into giving Caleb passage. His skill and help with so many wounded had been invaluable. Kramer was as good as any ship’s surgeon, but many would have died waiting on his services had Caleb not been present to help. He’d certainly taken care of Gabe.

As Anthony made his departure with Commodore Gardner, he overheard Dagan making a comment to Bart. “What was that you said?” he asked Dagan.

“I was just commenting on the odd names of the ships we’ve taken, sir. It seems they’ve taken on a gruesome tone, so to speak-like the pirates are trying to create fear in the way they’ve named their ships. We know the big frigate that done for poor Mr. Pitts is Reaper. We already took Rascal and Shark. Now this one is Scythe. I can’t help but wonder if this is a sign, an omen, if you will.”

The men working close by had all stopped their work as they heard Dagan’s comments. It suddenly got very quiet and still. Realizing the effect his words were having on the men and officers before him, Dagan changed his tack. No use scaring the men, he thought.

“Yes sir, I do believes its an omen alright, but a bad omen for the bloody buggers who sailed those ships, and its prize money for us. Eh mates?”

That set the men back in good spirits, and they gave a hearty cheer. Anthony was glad Dagan had put a spin on his thoughts for the men’s sake, but he agreed. The pirate leader appeared to be doing his best to set an eerie tone to the whole mess. The capture of Scythe would certainly add to the men’s already fat purses. He wanted them to dwell on that, not fear. They had been lucky so far. While this prize would also help Anthony’s purse, what excited him the most was the papers and information they’d discovered. The pirate captain had been so sure of his victory over Shark he’d not bothered to take precautions with his papers. Now Anthony had them, and Scythe’s former captain was shark bait.

The man had obviously been a good seaman and a fearless fighter, but he didn’t trust his memory. They had found the answer to the rendezvous puzzle. The man had a chart, and in the margins he had written down dates and numbers. On the charts, numbers were written beside corresponding locations. St. John was number five, St. Kitts was number seven, St. Lucia was number nine and so on.

***

Anthony’s dining area was full of tobacco smoke, the faint but distinct odor of alcoholic spirits, and the unmistakable air of good cheer. All of Anthony’s officers had gathered for a council of war. Armed with their latest