Anthony was sure this vow was behind their father’s desire for Gabe to be under his command.
“You’re getting a bargain,” Lord James Anthony had said just before he died. “Besides being a fine topman, Dagan’s got the best peepers I’ve ever seen.”
The coach rattled along toward Whitehall. Even at such an early hour the street was no longer deserted and appeared to be coming alive before Anthony and Gabe’s eyes. The coach’s driver let loose a stream of curses aimed at a pie-man who hadn’t moved his cart out of the coach’s way quick enough to suit the driver.
“Too fat and slow ‘e is, like as not ‘e’s been eating ‘is own wares I’d say, damn ‘em.”
A mob of ragged street urchins was making a peddler’s life hell as he tried to coax his old swayback nag on down the street amid other weary and sleepy-eyed beggars, clerks and shopkeepers. All were starting out a new day. Gabe looked up anxiously as the coach made a sharp turn and passed under the archway into the Admiralty courtyard. Gabe’s knuckles turned white grasping at the window handle as the coach’s wheels slipped on the dew-wet cobblestones and then came to a sudden halt in front of the Admiralty’s main entrance.
Anthony smiled at Gabe’s obvious fright, wondering what he was thinking as he visited The Admiralty for the first time.
A doorman opened the coach as soon as it stopped. He looked puzzled when his gaze first fell upon a midshipman. With the arrival of a crested private coach, the man was expecting more than a mere boy. He looked somewhat relieved when he looked further and saw Captain Anthony.
“This way my Lord,” the doorman said.
Anthony still hadn’t gotten used to the title. “Lord Anthony” had always meant his father. As the two followed the messenger up the steps and into the spacious entrance hall, Anthony could see Gabe was overcome with awe.
His first visit, Anthony thought again. If luck serve Gabe well, there would be many visits, all pleasant.
Out of nowhere a clerk appeared. “If you would be so kind as to wait in here, my Lord. His Lordship knows you’re here. He’s tying up a complicated matter and assures me he will be with you directly.”
The messenger turned to leave, and then paused in his stride, saying, “I’m sorry to hear about your father, my Lord. He was a good man, a good leader. If circumstances had been different, many believe he would have been First Lord.”
Gil nodded. “It’s good of you to remember.”
As the messenger left the small room, Anthony approached the small fireplace to warm his stiff and aching bones. As they waited, it dawned on Anthony that he and Gabe were waiting in one of the small private anterooms, not in one of the larger rooms that would he filled with unemployed half-pay captains, commanders and lieutenants, all looking for a berth or a command.
Anthony turned to Gabe who had thus far said nothing. Gabe was staring out the one window The cold February wind whipped against the windowpanes, and Gabe spoke.
“Wind’s picking up, temperature’s dropping, and it’s cloudy. It’ll probably snow tonight. Father would say ‘a night not fit for neither man nor beast and certainly not fit for a sailor.’”
Anthony and Gabe smiled, thinking of their father’s words. At that time, the messenger returned, “The First Lord will see you now, Lord Anthony.”
He hesitated, not wanting to offend Anthony, then found the right words. “Perhaps the young gentleman would like to take a turn through the halls, sir.” It was the messenger’s polite way of saying the room was needed for someone more important than a midshipman.
“I’ll wait outside with Dagan,” Gabe volunteered.
Anthony had forgotten Dagan, who had been sitting atop the coach with the driver. No doubt they had found a warm spot.
Lord Sandwich was staring out the window as Anthony entered.
“Gil-Lord Anthony, I should say-how are you?”
The two shook hands as old friends. Anthony had played cards with the First Lord on many occasions. He had also dined with him and his mistress here at the Admiralty. For a while Anthony had been a member, along with the First Lord, at the infamous Hellfire Club. Anthony knew without Sandwich ’s influence, the Navy would be in worse shape than it was. Many blamed Sandwich, but in fact the Prime Minister, Lord North, was responsible for most of the Navy’s shortcomings.
Leaving off the title, Sandwich said, “Ah Gil, Parliament is in love with you, my boy. Having saved the Honest John Convoy from those cutthroats has made you England ’s darling for the time. Front page of the Gazette, no less. But the truth be known, the reason for such a display of admiration as you received is because you saved a good many from financial ruin. That includes several members of Parliament, not the least of which is your brother-in-law. It was through his insistence that you were knighted so quickly, not only to honor you, but also something to make your father proud in his last days. By the bye, the Prince sends his regrets about your being herded through his Majesty’s court so fast. He would like some time to visit with you once our business is complete. Speaking of business, have you taken care of your father’s affairs?”
“Yes,” Anthony answered.
“You’ve met your brother?” inquired the First Lord. Anthony nodded. “He has the makings of a fine officer,” continued Lord Sandwich. “But watch out for him. Some will try, and may even succeed, in using him against you.”
Taken aback, Anthony, somewhat roused, asked, “In what way?”
“In many ways! Wherever there’s envy or jealously, wherever there is insult, real or imagined, people will try to hurt you through any means possible. Just be on guard, Lord Anthony. Be on guard.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Now for the business at hand. For several years now, grievances by the colonies have mounted. Most feel it’s only a time before verbal conflicts turn into open hostilities and war. There is growing concern in the House of Commons as to whether the Navy can maintain control of the seas if war does break out. It is most certain France and maybe even Spain will enter along with the colonies. You know how thin we are stretched now. This could be devastating. Right now privateers, who many in Parliament feel are in cahoots with the Colonials, are reeking havoc on our merchant ships.
“This is not to mention the damned blackguards who have allegiance to no country. These damned pirates are a menace. They prey upon the trade lanes in the Caribbean and off the American coast with seeming impunity.
“Your recent success has made you the ideal person to deal with this problem. Yours will be an independent command. You will have leeway to deal with this threat as you see fit. You are to assume command of Drakkar 44. She has a new full complement and should be completing all preparations to put to sea. Her former captain has decided to retire rather than face hostilities with the colonies. The Drakkar already has a full slate of officers, but I’m sure you’ll want Lieutenant Buck and a few others. Just leave a list of names with my secretary and he’ll see to it.”
“When do you expect me to sail?” Anthony asked.
“Within a fortnight.”
“And where are we bound, sir?”
“ English Harbour, Antiqua.”
Chapter Three
Before reporting to the Drakkar, Anthony had taken the time to visit Deerfield. He wanted to see his mother before getting underway for another commission. Gabe had been sent on to the ship. Mother would only have to see Gabe and she would know who his father was. That would only cause a stir and Anthony wasn’t ready to deal with that so soon after his father’s passing. The trip had served to depress Anthony more than cheer him. Deerfield was in fine order but mother had been sick the entire time he was home. Mother seemed to be in a fog or a confused state. She constantly repeated things she’d just said, all the while asking Anthony if he knew when his father would return home. She refused to acknowledge that Lord Anthony was dead. These thoughts were still on Anthony’s mind as he hired a little cutter to take him out to Drakkar. His exact time to arrive had not been set and therefore his gig had not been awaiting his arrival. A brisk southwesterly breeze filled the main sail. The dip of the cutter’s bow on choppy waves created a constant salt spray. The old man and his grandson appeared to be oblivious, but the spindrift had Anthony constantly wiping his face. Anthony’s cox’n, Bart, and his servant Silas, had draped a tarpaulin to protect Anthony’s sea chest and to keep them dry and warm. As the boat pushed through the chilly harbor’s water, Anthony glanced at the maimed old sailor at the tiller. His hands were gnarled with rheumatoid. A single