“Is Mr. Cobb the commanding officer?” Tim asked in a low tone.
“What’s that?” the sentry growled in reply, looking confused and fatigued.
“Mr. Cobb. Is he your commanding officer? I only ask because he was not wearing an officer’s coat. In fact, he appears to be no more than a petty officer.” Tim pressed, drawing a scorn from the guard.
“He’s in command now, that’s all I’m concerning myself with. It’s a shame the officers dishonored themselves the way they did. I don’t blame Cobb for putting them overboard, likely I’d do the same if they hadn’t.” He answered, looking uncomfortable with the exchange.
“And what exactly did they do?” Tim asked hoping to glean a perspective from someone besides Cobb.
“They landed a party of marines from the fleet to overthrow the governor of Jamaica. You said so yourself, what are you getting at?” the sentry leaned away slightly, off put by the line of questioning.
“What if I told you that the officers and marines of the fleet were ambushed by a band of pirates in Kingston? It was pirates who took the fort and opened fire on your fleet. Your friend Cobb has committed a mutiny and made you all his accomplices. That’s why he put the other officers off the ship.” Tim said in a low hushed voice. He watched as his suggestions kindled in the sentry’s mind, just as he had hoped they would.
“Why would Cobb be so desperate to get after Lieutenant Pike and the Endurance then?” the man hunched lower to speak with Tim.
“He has to silence anyone who can report his mutiny, of course.” Tim said with a flat condescending tone.
“By god. What have they done? And now we’re all mutineers!” the sentry hushed his exclamation, gritting his jaw afterward.
“By my reckoning, the only chance you gentlemen have at not feeling a noose bite your neck as your last living moment would be to take the ship and restore order aboard.” Tim suggested, looking away into the night to let his words work on the sailor’s mind. It could not have taken more perfectly if Tim had planned it. The guard hadn’t questioned the motives of the American feeding him lies and leading him where he wanted, he just drew the conclusions Tim led him to. Aboard a crowded vessel at sea, it would take only hours, but the seeds he had now planted would grow into a violent problem for Mr. Cobb, one Tim hoped he could get in front of and use to his own advantage.
“Fire on the horizon! There’s a ship out there aflame!” the cry echoed down from the forward lookout. His shout was followed by a flurry of footfalls against the wooden deck as everyone moved to get a look. Tim stood and leaned over the rail to take in the sight. An orange dot on the horizon was all he could make out, but as he peered longer it seemed to grow in intensity. Chaos was what he needed. If Cobb and his crew were distracted by an outside event, Tim had a chance to effect some change in his situation. That growing orange blot on the horizon promised some distraction and offered the chance for some chaos to take hold. Maybe, Tim pondered, the doubts I’ve planted with this nitwit will take fruit amid some action, perfect.
Cobb appeared from below deck and shot a suspicious glance toward Tim on his way to the bow. It had been mere hours since their departure from the debris field and Cobb looked as if he hadn’t slept at all in that time. The orange glare flashed, growing in intensity as flames likely caught hold of sailcloth. Cobb stood near the bowsprit, with an extended sight glass raised to his eye. He leaned over and said something to a nearby sailor and soon a couple men scooped Tim off his seat on the bench and drug him up to the forecastle. Cobb had a wide grin that gripped Tim’s innards like a vice.
“Would you care to have a look and see the source of flame?” Cobb sneered.
“My eyes aren’t what they once were. Just tell me.” Tim was apprehensive at the sailor’s joy.
“The Endurance. She’s the only vessel that large in these waters and she is lost to the flame. I imagine we will hear her magazine go at some point soon. Pike must have run across someone far better suited to naval combat.” Cobb jeered. “And it looks like my problem has been solved for me.”
“And mine? Where does this development leave our arrangement?” Tim asked somberly.
“Oh, Mr. Sladen. Your problems have only started.” Cobb said with a broad grin.
Tim bit his lip, trying to contain the furious torrent of cursed insults that sat at the front of his mind for this sailor. He was clever, though not quite as clever as Tim. With any luck, the seeds of doubt and deceit he had sown with the crew earlier would be coming into play.
Chapter 13
Drowned Maiden
27 Sept 1808
17 Degrees 34 minutes N, 76 Degrees 14’ W
The plume of smoke from the burning warship trailed along the surface of the sea, hanging heavy in the air. Its acrid odor
