Privateers
Part I
Chapter 1
Scotland, Winter 1778
The Chimera silently glided into the loch like a phantasm. Hardly a noise was made, save for the rustling of the sails from her troika of masts, and the crash of the surf as she cut through the frigid black waters of Loch Hourn. Her pitch-black hull and verdant green trim were cloaked in twilight as a crescent moon slid in and out of the cloud-filled night.
Following her lead, a pair of frigates flying the French flag sailed up into the loch. Not a single lantern was lit on all three of warships as they silently crept further and further up into the loch.
Henry Riley gazed impassively at the two French frigates as they followed after his ship. He was glad to have them along on this raid, but Loch Hourn was where the Chimera would leave them. The thirty-three gun frigate would have to venture up the waterway alone. The two French frigates were much larger and had a draft that would leave little room to maneuver in the narrow waterways leading into Loch Alsh.
Henry's eyes drifted away from the two frigates and back to his own ship. Unlike her French counterparts, the Chimera wasn't designed for war. She was a blockade runner, but, with the American War of Independence raging, any ship in the employ of the Continental Navy was a warship.
Henry walked across the deck and watched as the Chimera tacked towards a small island on the western side of the loch. "Steady as she goes, Mr. Southworth."
"Right you are Captain." Martin Southworth, the helmsmen, bobbed his head and swung the wheel wide, bringing the Chimera abreast of the island.
Henry watched as his crew silently raised the sails as their ship drifted behind the island.
"Captain, are you sure this will provide us with sufficient cover?" A body-less voice whispered from the darkness.
Henry turned and faced the direction from where the question came. As the moon crept out from behind a cloud, the large silhouette of Henry's first mate and quartermaster became visible. "For one day we should be fine, Big John. We'll send out scouts to ensure no one spots the ship from land."
Big John tilted his bald head and nodded towards the two frigates that sat in the middle of Loch Hourn. "And what of the French?"
Henry followed his quartermaster's gaze. Their escort sat unassuming in the loch, waiting for their signal to depart. "Southworth, light the lantern."
Southworth wordlessly departed the helm and moved tot he aft of the ship and wordlessly lit a single lantern and gently swung it left to right.
In response, one of the French frigates lit a single lantern and after a minute quickly extinguished it.
"They're departing." Southworth called as he doused his lantern.
Henry nodded and watched as the sails were dropped on both frigates and they started to silently glide out of the loch the same way they came in.
"Alone again." Big John murmured.
"Lonely already?" Henry smirked. He walked down the steps of the quarter deck and walked across the main deck to inspect their berthing. Big John followed after him.
"Hank, you have to admit this is a little different from our usual doings."
Henry ignored Big John's concern and studied the island that eclipsed them from the rest of the loch. I hope this works, Henry thought you himself.
"Do you really think we can hide here during the day?"
Henry sucked in a breath and looked at his giant quartermaster, "Do you have a better idea?"
"Drop off the scouts and retreat back to the open ocean and come back tomorrow night."
"And leave our lads without any kind of help if they encounter trouble? No, we're all in this together or not at all. Besides we're deep into Royal waters, if we go back out to sea we run the risk of being spotted." Henry shook his head and leaned against the wooden railing of the ship. "We stay put, this is the safest we can be at the moment."
"Fine," Big John nodded his head slowly and crossed his arms, shivering slightly, "Christ, I just wish we were back around the Bahamas or Cuba. Its bloody cold here."
The cold wintry air filled Henry's lungs as he took a breath. This wasn't the environment the Chimera was cut out for. His men were Caribbean sailors, ill equipped for a winter in Scotland. "Let's just get this raid finished and we can double back to France and be back on our way home within a fortnight."
"I'll have Jeremiah gather a few of his lads to serve as scouts."
"Make sure his gun crews double check every cannon for rust and stress lines. The last thing we want is a cannon to crack in this cold when fired."
"Will do, Captain."
Henry drummed his fingers across the railing as he took one last look at the dark hump-backed island that stood between them and the rest of the loch. All it took was single farmer, child playing in the woods, or soldier seeing them and the game would be up. Surprise was a necessity and it would be a fickle thing.
"Should we have the crew to quarters?"
Henry debated the question, and shook his head. "This may be the last good-night's sleep they'll be getting for a couple days. I want sentries on the quarterdeck and weapons to be passed out."
"Right, I'll send a fresh set of eyes up to the crow's nest to keep watch."
"Don't bother I'll take the watch."
Big John studied Henry for a long moment, but nodded his head. They had sailed together for over five years, and Big John knew why Henry occasionally volunteered himself for the loneliest post on the ship. It was the only place he could let his mind wander away from the needs of the Chimera. As the Captain of the ship, Henry was responsible for the welfare of everyone of his crew, and Big John knew it was a responsibility that nagged and tugged at Henry's mind at every hour of the day. If the Captain wanted to decompress by taking the loath night-watch in the Crow's Nest who was he to begrudge him? He gave Henry a wordless nod and departed to pass the word.
Henry watched Big John scramble down the ladder-well to pass word to Jeremiah and the rest of the gun crews. For most of the crew, Henry doubted a fitful night sleep would come easy, and as for the officers of the ship, it would be a long few days.
Henry strolled across the main deck and inspected the far shore of the Scottish mainland. It was only a few hundred meters away. Henry stamped his feet to keep warm as a frosty breeze swept across the deck. Here they were, deep in enemy territory, within striking distance of Scotland. It would be the first time a colonial ship would be bringing the fight to Great Britain on royal soil.
Henry grabbed the loose folds of his boat cloak and wrapped them tighter around his body as the cold continued to seep into his bones. Christ it was cold. They had acquired wool clothing while in France, but he wondered if that was enough to keep his lads from getting frostbit. He stared absently at the black hills that stood out against the starry night. His mind racing as he grappled with the fear that he had overlooked something. His mind darted through a mental checklist for the hundredth time and couldn't think of a single thing that was left to do.
He grunted in annoyance as he realized all necessary tasks had been taken care. With all preparations being completed, there was nothing left to do but wait. Henry meandered back across the deck, returning greetings with sentries as he made his way to the rigging of the main mast. He clambered up the weathered ropes to the top of the mast.
"Captain is that you?" A voice called from the nest as Henry grabbed the rim of the platform and heaved himself over the railing.
"Who is that? Swift?"
"Aye sir. What can I do for you?"
"Go down below deck and get warm. I'll take the next watch."
Swift's eyebrows raised in surprise, but he didn't question the order. "You'll need this." He pulled a wool blanket off his shoulders and handed it to Henry.
"Thanks."
"Stay warm Captain, its bloody freezing up here. There's a dram of grog left in the canteen."
Henry nodded his thanks and took the blanket. Without another word, Swift threw a leg over the railing and scrambled down the rigging with practiced speed.
Henry wrapped the blanket around himself and leaned against the railing and studied the sky. The clouds were moving off, letting the moon illuminate the night. His mind returned to thoughts of what else needed to be done, but came up empty yet again. The canons were prepped, the raiding party had been selected, and weapons had been issued. All that was left was to deploy the raiding force the next night, and pray they weren't discovered before then.
Henry struggled to quiet his mind, but it ricocheted all over. The longer he struggled to keep his mind off the work that was to come, the more his mind returned to the one thing he anguished over.
***
1774 Charlestown, SC
The flames of the lanterns flickered along the cobblestones on Broad street. The sun was quickly setting and dusk was fast approaching. The church bells of St. Michael's clanged as the clock struck eight. A group of boys were playing games on the side of the street while horse drawn carriages rumbled by to the various events of the evening. Their passengers were ornately dressed and easily identifiable as the upper crust of Charlestown society.
Henry watched the boys play while he waited for the carriage traffic to cease, his arms loaded down with paperwork from the smith. His face was covered with soot marks from the smith's fires, and stray wisps of hair fell over his face, escaping from the loose ponytail he had tied for his long brown hair. Henry looked on as the kids pretended to be redcoats while the other half pretended to be Indians as they played war with sticks and rocks. Once the traffic cleared, he quickly crossed the street and made his way into Doyle's Tavern.
Smoke hung in a thick fog over the tables and chairs of the tavern as its boisterous patrons drank from wooden tankards. Henry looked about the tavern, spotting a few familiar faces but stopping short of going over to greet any of them. He spotted a lone chair and table in the far corner of the tavern and made his way over. He took his cap off and set it along with paper down on the table and hailed one of the barmaids and asked for a pitcher of ale.
"Anything else Mr. Riley?" The barmaid asked sweetly when she came back with a tankard and pitcher.
"Thank you Charlotte, that'll be all." Riley said absentmindedly, his thoughts turned to his work.
Charlotte gave him a disappointed look but nodded, "Well I'll be right over there. If you need anything just shout."
"I will thank you." Henry said politely and started to unfold one of the rolls of paper.
She wasn't the first woman to flash her eyes at him, and wouldn't be the last. Coming from Edisto Island, Henry was a rare commodity in the city. He was young, self-employed, self-made, and, most of all, unspoken for. Amongst mothers playing matchmaker for their daughters, he was a hot topic, and amongst his fellow master blacksmiths he was an anomaly. At the age of twenty-three he was ten-years junior to the next youngest master-smith.
When it came to making the metal sing, Henry Riley was unrivaled. His skill at spreading and pulling the metal into intricate designs made his work incredibly popular amongst the wealthy landowners and merchants of Charlestown. His brand of work wasn't just metalworking, it was art.
Henry reached for his tankard and inspected the rough sketches that littered the paper. He drank heavily and pulled a charcoal pen from his pocket. In quick short movements he started to add details to his design.
The din of the tavern faded to the background as Henry concentrated on his work. He worked furiously and stopped only to sip his ale. His absorption into his work drew a few lone looks, but for most of the tavern regulars Henry's work was commonplace.
Whenever Henry latched onto a project there was a passion to his efforts. He worked feverishly, both day and night, to commit an idea to paper and metal. During times like these, the local patrons of the tavern knew to give Henry a wide berth.
With a final stroke of the pen he leaned back in his chair and surveyed his work with a sullen look.He added a few quick touches and inspected his work a final time.
"What springs from the mind of Henry Riley today?"
Henry jumped at the voice behind him and turned in annoyance to see who dared disturb his work.
For a barmaid, she was nothing like what would be expected. Her raven hair cascaded down her shoulders and back in waves, catching the light whenever she moved. Her small figure hovered over Henry's shoulder as she fixed him with a glare from her emerald green eyes.
"Don't give me that look Mr. Riley, or I'll have you bounced out of this tavern without a second thought."
"Emily." Henry bobbed his head, but kept his eyes locked on hers. A thin smile creased his lips and slowly turned into a sheepish grin. "You move too softly,"
"Aye, the way you jumped and turned around was a right proper sight." Emily Doyle laughed as she sat down in the chair opposite Henry's.
"So what are you working on today?"
"A set of lanterns for the Griffin. She's being built at Kingston's Shipyard and is preparing for her maiden voyage."
Emily nodded and, without asking, grabbed Henry's sketches and turned them so she could inspect them. "An Eagle and Lion's head?"
"That's what makes a griffin."
"I'm aware."
"The mouths will be open and that's where the lantern will be."
Emily reviewed the sketches without a word, her lips pursed and her almond-shaped eyes tightened as she reviewed his work.
Henry studied her over the lip of his tankard as he took a sip of ale. She was without a doubt the prettiest girl in Charlestown, and the smartest.
Henry had known Emily since they were children, and had been in love with her since he was ten, but, like a fool, had never told her. He watched as her tongue jutted out from the side of her mouth as she deliberated on the designs. He could tell she wasn't happy with them.
"I liked your old sketches more, the ones on Edisto." She said with some finality as she leaned back and turned the sketches back towards Henry. "Your sketch of the Odyssey was my favorite. The one with Penelope and Odysseus."
A chuckle rumbled in Henry's throat as he took the sketches and started to roll them up. "That must have been ten years ago, I'm surprised you remember it."
"I still have it, it's in my room."
"A memento from Edisto?"
Emily sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, "Maybe."
Henry smiled and leaned back in his chair. Talking about Edisto brought back a lot of fond memories. Memories of warm summer evenings under the lush, verdant boughs of the weeping willows along the river, of sitting under his favorite tree on the banks of the river with a book as the salty smell of pluff mud and sweet grass wafted through the air. It truly was an Eden of the New World.
"When was the last time you were there?"
Henry ran a hand through his long chestnut hair and shrugged, "Two months ago I reckon. Father is still the reverend of the church. What about you?"
Emily reached for Henry's tankard and took a sip, not waiting for permission. "Seven years."
Henry frowned, "Seven years? That was when you left. You haven't been back since then?"
Emily shook her head
Henry did his best to go back Edisto Island frequently. His father was still the reverend of the local church and he tried to visit every few months.