“Commence fire,” Admiral Sharpe said in a low tone.
“Aye Sir,” replied a petty officer who had been at the Admiral’s side. He immediately turned to the signalman and shouted, “Commence fire!” The signal flags went aloft into the rigging of the Endurance and the two frigates in cohort started their assault by fire. Admiral Sharpe watched on closely through looking glass, observing both ship and shore. The Hunter ducked in close to shore, raking fire one gun at a time on target, Captain Nestor was a seasoned commander and had a reputation for commanding fine gunnery. The Hunter’s fire was landing seaside on the hill, just below earthen mounds where rebels had dug in, each ball sent up a showering plume of dirt as it struck into the target hill.
The Hunter’s last larboard gun fired, and she peeled away from shore in a steep starboard turn, her crews already making their guns ready for another round of fire. The Bayonet came in just a few minutes after, slightly farther out from the shoreline than Hunter had been. A grimace of concern flashed across Admiral Sharpe’s face, Captain Brant was his newest Captain and the Admiral was bracing for the young new commander to make folly of his first run at the target. At first shot, the ball landed very high on the hill, sending a shower of dirt high into the morning air as the shot hit earth and then skipped up sailing over the hill. The second shot from the Bayonet was adjusted to deadly effect, landing directly on one of the dug in positions the rebels were occupying. Sharpe scoured the impact area through his looking glass, he could see smoke from musket fire and dead men on the field. He immediately checked the signal flags ashore again, both were still flying, no surrender yet. Three more blasts of cannon fire came from the gun line aboard the Bayonet, each impacting with deadly effect. Sharpe watched as the line of rebels broke from their dug in positions. There were men and women among them, even from a distance Elliot Sharpe’s heart sank as he could distinguish female forms. They were caught in a deadly crossfire between naval gunnery and the mounted soldiers closing on their position.
The signal flag on the eastern edge of the engagement disappeared, Elliot in turn ordered for a change of signal aboard his flagship. All fire from the ships ceased, the Bayonet and Hunter turned out from shore heading for deeper waters. Admiral Sharpe lingered momentarily with his flagship close to shore, he had a deep suspicion he wished to disprove before departing. Through the large looking glass Sharpe watched the events on shore unfold, he scanned back and forth between the advancing mounted troops and the line of infantrymen. A cluster of surrendering men and women had thrown down their weapons, though a small group of three fled. Elliot followed the path of the fleeing trio down the western slope of the hill. One man fell with the sound of a shot rippling through the air.
“You won the day lads, no need to shoot down a man running for his life. In the back no less.” Sharpe mumbled to himself. Elliot scanned back up the hill, searching through his growing anger for the source of the shot. Near the crest of the hill were three riders not in Royal Army uniform. He was far too distant to make out faces, but the tall slender man with musket still in his hands Elliot suspected was the American he had met at the Governor’s mansion. He watched as the riders separated, two continued down the hill in pursuit of the fleeing, the third man lingered atop the hill on his mount.
Elliot watched the lone man for a long moment, internally he could feel an urge to run his battery out and rain cannon fire on the man. The urge passed; his temper cooled. His eyes sunk down to the deck of his flagship. He asked himself silently what grievous thing he had done this morning. Was he serving king and country? The leadsman along his larboard rail called out a reading, reminding the Admiral of the slacking tide. There were dangerous shoals in the area with the tide running outward beneath him he ordered his flagship to depart from the coast. Admiral Sharpe passed word for his signalman, pacing the rail as he awaited the petty officer’s arrival.
“You summoned me, Sir?” said the sailor as he approached.
“Yes, signal orders for the squadron to make sail with us,” the Admiral replied. Turning towards the quarterdeck Elliot increased his volume slightly. “Officer of the watch.”
“Yes Sir,” a young fat faced lieutenant answered as he hurried over to the admiral.
“Pass the word, I want lookouts fore and aft, double the watch. Set a sailing pattern as close to the coast as we dare. Scour every inlet, every beach, every cove and bay. Set our course eastward and follow the shore around to the north side of Jamaica. I want an immediate report of any irregularity.” Elliot said as he walked toward his cabin. His tone was distracted, his mind already occupied by questions that wouldn’t easily be answered. He would set about to find out more information, as much as he could anyways. His next visit with Governor Alton would not go the same as his last and he desired to know as much as possible before he walked in.
Chapter 5
“Drowned Maiden”
19 Aug 1808
19 Degree 36’ N, 72 Degrees 59’ W
The morning sun shone brightly through the cove, warming Lilith’s shoulders as she stood high up in the rigging of the Unholy Shepherd. Her task since waking had been assisting Trina and Big Bob in replacing lines and blocks through the intricate workings of the upper rigging. Their purpose was twofold, replacing line and block was surely part of their effort, but getting the freed slaves off the deck and up into the rigging was another
