H.M.S Valor: Treachery And Triumph: A war time adventure on the high seas by Cal Clement (best way to read an ebook TXT) 📗

be foolish to attempt anything in this storm.” LeMeux said, improvising a plan as he spoke. “We need to get this man into a cell and the one in my cabin, before they come to.” Omibwe explained to the other prisoners, much quicker in his native language than the doctor could’ve. They set about, dragging the two sailors into a cell and binding their hands and locking them in. Omibwe instructed those with weapons to position by the stairs, guarding for crew coming below deck. They all settled in, waiting out the storm and bracing themselves for the fight to come.

H.M.S Endurance

14 Sept 1808

18 Degrees 2’ N, 76 Degrees 15’ W

“Weather on the eastern horizon Sir, could be severe by the look of it.” Lieutenant Cormer said, informing Admiral Sharpe who had just come onto the quarter deck a moment before.

“Very well Lieutenant. Signal the squadron, we will weather the storm in the bay to our west. High tide still, is it?” the Admiral replied knowing full well the exact conditions of the seas. He made a habit of testing whatever officer was on watch whenever he came on deck, his not so subtle way of reinforcing seamanship.

“Yes Sir, rising tide for the next two hours. According to our charts we’ll have enough depth inside the bay to weather slack tide, Sir,” the Lieutenant responded. Elliot was pleased, the young officer not only answered his question but also sufficed the question he planned to ask next. The admiral allowed a slight smile to break his stone bearing for just a moment.

“Alright Lieutenant bring her about,” said Elliot.

The course change was quick and orderly, the signalman hoisted his flags and within moments his orders had been acknowledged by the two ships sailing in concert with him. Within minutes the ships were all edging their way toward the mouth of a large inlet bay on the eastern Jamaican shore. The steady wind out of the northeast had shifted, giving way to a much cooler and stronger wind from the southeast heralding a storm on its way. The foreboding cloud formation seemed to be expanding by the minute and flashes of lightning could be seen within the dark skies beyond the cloud front.

Admiral Sharpe had spent the last few weeks sailing around Jamaica, investigating every nook and cranny of coastline finding nothing to substantiate his suspicions. This had only served to vex the admiral as he was wholly convinced something was afoul and he was being used as a pawn in someone’s misdeeds. Years of officer conduct and reserve prevented him from sharing his true concerns with anyone, it would be dangerously inappropriate in his mind to give any of his subordinates reason to doubt his judgment. He continued, passed his orders when necessary and contemplated each situation that had led him to these scandalous conclusions all the while. His interactions with Governor Alton lately had become awkward and tense, even adversarial. The presence of the American he had met at the Governor’s mansion baffled logic and he strongly suspected that American was indeed on the field where his ships had recently provided their firepower to quell a supposed rebellion. He questioned himself most of all, whether he was interpreting events and behaviors accurately, even asking himself if he had become paranoid. He shook off the notion, years of service grounded him and honed his instincts, something was afoot. He just needed some confirmation of his suspicions.

As his flagship approached the mouth of the bay Elliot walked up to the bow, he observed the conditions of the seas and scanned the inlet for any ships taking anchorage. The gentle waves breaking along the shores outside the bay were beginning to intensify as the wind picked up gradually, but within the bay the sea was calm and the only indication of incoming weather was the trees ashore beginning to dance with stronger and stronger gusts of wind. After sailing just a few minutes through the opening, Elliot could see that the inlet split off in two directions, the largest part branched north in a broad bay sheltered from the open sea by a thin rocky finger. But towards the southwest he could see another opening, a branch of the bay he was unaware of. Elliot’s face flared red with embarrassment, though no one except him could have ever known what from. The Admiral prided himself on his seamanship and navigation savvy, to have sailed these waters as long as he had without knowing the true nature of this particular bay was to him, appalling. He turned to a midshipman passing behind him.

“You there, fetch me the chart we have for this shoreline. Lively now.” Admiral Sharpe said snappily.

“Aye Sir!” the midshipman replied, he took off toward the chartroom at a quick pace.

Elliot pulled his looking glass and extended it, scanning the shores to his southwest. As he examined, he could see where the inlet snaked around farther west, occluded by another finger of land with a formidable tree line. From the open sea the inner inlet would be obscured from view, camouflaged by a tree line that seemed to blend together with that of the shore just beyond.

“The chart you requested Sir,” said the midshipman, interrupting Elliot’s thoughts. “Compliments from the officer of the watch. He asks if there is a specific part of the bay you wish to anchor the squadron?”

Elliot took hold of the chart and found the bay they were sailing into, studying the shape he could see plainly that the chart did not include the hidden inner cove.

“South by west, drop anchor where we can weather this storm and slack tide. Signal the Hunter to lay her guns covering the mouth of the bay and signal the Bayonet to lay her guns covering the mouth of that inlet.” Elliot rattled his orders.

“Begging your pardon Sir. But what inlet?” the midshipman replied sheepishly. Elliot smiled broadly realizing he was the first aboard to discover the inner inlet. He put a hand