“Aye Sir.” William responded. He hadn’t forgotten the wound, it was too painful for that, but he was taken aback a bit that the Captain showed as much concern as he did. His other commanders retired to their quarters after battle, Grimes was making rounds with the crew, checking wounded, lamenting over the dead, giving instruction to the sailors where it was needed. This man was completely present, in tune with his ship and his crew. William’s chest swelled with pride, both in his Captain and in their crew and what they had collectively just accomplished. With a French warship still in chase, there was an air of tension about, but the victorious crew was high on adrenaline and stiff following winds. “Three cheers for Captain Grimes! Master of the seas! Master of the Valor!” a sailor cried out.
“Hip hip huzzah!” the crew responded in turn.
A song broke out up in the rigging as they pulled further away from the sloop, at one-point Captain Grimes could be heard lending his voice to the chorus. It was a glorious hour to be on the deck of the Valor and the entire crew’s confidence was with their Captain and his First Lieutenant.
16 Aug 1808
Governor’s Mansion - Kingston, Jamaica
Governor Alton sat at the desk of his study. He was nervously awaiting a visit from Timothy Sladen. Disturbing news had arrived from a mutual associate of theirs in the United States. Their most recently expected ship, containing thousands of pounds of raw sugar had not arrived when expected. There were no reports of storms yet, though the season was approaching. The chances of the ship being taken by a pirate vessel still lingered, or perhaps the captain had gone rogue and taken the cargo for his own profit. There was also the chance, however small, the vessel had been taken as contraband by an American Navy vessel. These matters weighed on the Governor in his stuffy study as the sun beat into the west facing windows behind him. He shifted and fidgeted uncomfortably while examining charts of the route the missing vessel likely took. Likely, they had been very specifically instructed to adhere to a designated route. Both for their own protection and that of the mutual proprietors organizing the endeavor. Alton knew he was out of his depth looking over navigational charts and trying to decipher anywhere trouble would have arisen. He needed a man skilled in naval matters such as Admiral Sharpe, but that was a risk he could not afford to take. Attention from Elliot Sharpe in this matter would undoubtedly result in difficult questions arising, questions Governor Alton could not afford to have answered, questions he had sworn to ensure remain unasked and unanswered.
Timothy erupted into the study door, letting it swing and abruptly hit the adjacent bookshelves. It impacted with enough force that several books tipped and rolled charts sitting high atop the uppermost shelf fell off dropping to the floor. Mr. Sladen’s face was flushed red, his scarred neck all the more pronounced through the added circulation of his temper.
“You guaranteed Alton. You guaranteed us safe passage and we have now lost a ship. There are parties who will be expecting compensation and some god damned answers. I am here to see to that,” said Sladen. His tone failing utterly to disguise his contempt toward the fat governor.
“You may be irritated with me Timothy, but you will remember. I am a Lord and the Governor of the colony in which you are conducting your enterprise. You would do well to remember that and address me according to my social rank and title,” said Alton, his tone growing more indignant with each syllable. The tension in the room simmered and Sladen walked back to the door, gently and deliberately closing it as Alton spoke. He slid the bolt closed between the double doors leading out into the grand atrium and turned back to the governor as he finished his arrogant drivel.
“I warned you, Lord Governor,” Tim began, sarcasm dripping from the title as it left his mouth, “There is far too much invested into this enterprise for it to fail. I assure you, Lord Governor, you are amongst the lowest order involved, whether you care to accept that matters not. You will see to it that this situation does not repeat itself. There are other Lord Governors and there are other islands.” Tim had walked back in front of the Governor’s desk and now stood looking down at him. Timothy’s countenance toward Alton had never been to the Governor’s liking. Governor Alton preferred sycophants, unquestioning and unchallenging, typically of lower ambition and intelligence.
“I can arrange a search for the missing vessel. It will take some time, but I believe we will be able to recover it and at least some portion of her profits.” Alton replied, hoping to placate the American.
“Very well, Lord Governor,” said Sladen, his tone softening slightly. “But the cost of that lost vessel goes far beyond a ship, a few bags of goods and a lost crew.” As Tim spoke, he slowly turned sitting in one of the plush ornate chairs in front of the Governor’s desk. He very deliberately drew out a thin dagger which had been concealed in his waistband as he sat. Tim placed the tip of the dagger on the arm of the chair and spun it in his hand, drilling a small divot in the wood of the chair arm. The blade flashed off of the sunlight pouring in behind the Governor and menacingly glared into his eyes with each turn. Sladen continued, “Perhaps, we have the appropriate island. I’m just unconvinced we have the ideal Governor for such a sensitive and profitable operation. Arrangements could possibly be made to rectify this.” He spoke almost to himself. “But I believe you can salvage this situation, Lord Governor. Please make search arrangements with all haste. That vessel is to
