Chapter 1: The Second Mate

The small two-masted schooner Anne Mary was set on a westward course, crossing the Caribbean Sea and heading towards the Spanish Main. She was a British merchantman out of Kingston, Jamaica. She was sailing under a flag of truce. Her captain had been hired by the British Commander in Chief in Kingston, Vice-admiral Sir Richard Lambert, to pick up his wife and children in Porto Bello. A Spanish privateer had captured the post packet carrying Lady Lambert and her children on its way from England to Jamaica and had brought her into Porto Bello. The Spanish, ever the gentlemen, had sent word to the British admiral to have his family picked up. Of course, they figured that any British navy vessel sailing for Porto Bello was out of action for a few weeks insofar as the war between England and Spain was concerned. Rather than weakening his forces, Sir Richard Lambert had rather hired a trading vessel to perform the task. Captain John Carter had been happy to oblige. In this year 1796, the big European war between revolutionary France with its allies and England had already severely affected the trade between the Caribbean islands, and freight was hard to find for the master-owner of the Anne Mary.

Captain Carter watched his son Anthony — Tony — who was supervising the setting of a stay sail. Appointing his son as second mate of the Anne Mary had been a smart move. The lad, barely 18 years of age, was a fine navigator already and a born and bred sailor. Captain Carter was also cutting costs this way, an added boon in these hard times.

“Land ho!”, came a cry from the masthead. Instantly, Anthony Carter jumped into the rigging and climbed up, carrying a large brass telescope. Steadying himself, he directed the telescope towards the horizon where a minute speck of something had appeared. It was the Spanish Main, all right, he thought; the coast line matched their expectations. They had hit Porto Bello in the first attempt, a nice feat of navigation he thought smugly. His father would be happy. The sooner they arrived at Porto Bello, the faster they could get out to sea again. It was not a landfall to which her young second mate was looking forward. Porto Bello, in spite of its name, was a hellhole. Epidemics of yellow fever, the vomito negro, were frequent and decimated the population. Moreover, entering a Spanish port as a Protestant — a heretic — was a risk in itself, even in peace times, and more so in times of war. He climbed down and faced his father.

“If the wind holds, we can mmake port before sunset, father,” he said. “That is, if the Dons’ll let us enter.”

“They should still know me; I’ve traded with’em before,” his father replied. “Always got along with them.”

And so, with the last light of the day, the Anne Mary crept into her anchorage. Captain Carter hurried into his little quarter boat and was rowed across the harbour to the residence of the harbour captain. There, he stated his business, while the crew of the Anne Mary settled down for the night. Captain Carter returned only after several hours, chuckling to himself.

“The Dons are pissed royally that the Admiral’s family is not picked up by a regular man o’war,” he told his son. “I guess they aimed at weakening Lambert’s squadron, but the good governor doesn’t fancy at all having a family of heretics in his house for another month. He agreed to have them ferried out to us by six bells. We can catch the morning tide to leave this stinking swamp. We’ll have to clear my cabin for our guests. I’ll move in with you.!”

With this, Captain Carter turned in and left Tony on deck.

Four bells sounded, and Anthony rolled out of the hammock he’d slept in. He had turned in after having the evening watch, and had slept for six undisturbed hours, a rare pleasure. His father had already got up since the cot was empty. He quickly washed his face with salt water and dragged a comb through his bleached, blonde hair, tying it in a neat queue.

He wanted to make a good impression on their passengers when they came aboard, so be bent over his sea chest and dragged out a fresh pair of breeches and a clean shirt. Having made himself respectable, he climbed on deck and joined his father and Joseph Fournier, the first mate, as they were gazing toward the town.

A longboat had just left the quay and was heading towards the Anne Mary. Tony could see red uniforms with gold tresses, which blinked in the sun. Spanish Officers, escorting their “guests”.

The boat came alongside, and the next problem arose. The Mary Anne did not ship a boatswain’s chair to hoist passengers on deck. However, neither Lady Lambert nor her children had ever climbed up a Jacob’s ladder to board a ship. They did not dare to jump for the ladder to climb up the side, and the Spanish officers were landlubbers and at a loss themselves. It was a funny sort of a stand off. In the end, Anthony climbed down into the boat to assist the ladies.

When he looked at them, his mouth fell agape. Having grown up on Jamaika, he was accustomed to the dark beauties of the West Indian islands. As the son of a lowly merchant captain, the fair haired daughters of the planters and the senior officers had always been beyond his reach, even his dreams. Thus, the sight of Lady Lambert and her daughter was like a revelation to young Tony.

The mother was a rather tall, slender woman with straw blonde hair. Her fair complexion contrasted with the dark dress she was wearing. Her even features, and her slender but womanly form made a strong impression on the young second mate.

But the daughter! Anthony could not help but stare at her. She was perhaps sixteen years of age, and she was close in height to her mother and just as slender. Her hair was of an incredible strawberry blond colouring, and her emerald green eyes combined with a milk white skin covered with freckles. He did not notice the son, blond like his mother, who was standing beside the ladies. It was the lad, however, who spoke to him first.

“How do we get on board your ship? My mother and sister are not accustomed to a Jacob’s ladder.”

Anthony tried to get his wits together.

“I shall assist you, m’ladies,” he started. “I am Anthony Carter, second mate, at your service.”

The two women hardly acknowledged him at first, but Anthony managed to coax both of them up the ladder. The young lad climbed up without help or difficulties, and Anthony followed them. Whilst the Spanish boat crew handed the luggage to the Anne Mary’s crew, a Spanish officer climbed after Anthony and, with great pomp, bid his farewell to the ladies. After he had left the ship, Captain Carter stepped forward, greeted his passengers and led them to their accommodations in the main cabin. While Lady Lambert and her son, after a short despairing look around, settled into their new surroundings without lament, the girl was indignant.

“Are we supposed to sleep in this rat hole? Why did we have to leave London, Mother? I hate it here. No man of any consequence is to be found here, either. And this climate, it will ruin my skin!” She almost stomped with fury. Obviously, she did not travel out of free will to meet her father.

“Be quiet, Harriet!” her mother returned sternly. “This is an English ship, and it will bring us to your father; and to say that there is no man of consequence in West India is nonsense! Don’t you know how rich those sugar barons are? Also, there are many of England’s finest serving in the Navy. If you won’t find a husband here it will be because of your temper!”

With the skylight of the cabin open, every word could be heard on deck, where the crew was preparing to weigh anchor. Captain Carter screwed his eyes upwards and shrugged his shoulders as if to comment on the exchange going on in the cabin.

The voice of the boy could be heard: “I like this. Sailing in this small ship will be more interesting. She has fore and aft rigging and should be more weatherly than a square rigged ship. I never sailed in a schooner before.”

The girls voice cut in: “Cannot you stop this sailor’s talk for one minute, Andrew? I have no interest in it, really.”

“May I go on deck, Mother?” the boy asked in a resigned voice.

“Yes, of course, dear. But ask the Captain first and keep out the men’s way.”

The boy came on deck and walked aft. He even touched his hat before he addressed Captain Carter and asked him whether he might stay on deck. The captain chuckled and nodded towards Anthony, indicating that the second mate should look after the boy.

“Stand over here at the taffrail, young master. You’ll everything and nobody’ll run you over,” Anthony told the lad who gladly took the position at the taffrail and looked around curiously.

With the Anne Mary under sail and heading out of the harbour, the boy asked Tony questions about everything. Obviously, he worshipped his admiral father and aspired nothing more than to become a naval officer himself. Tony did not mind the boy’s questions. It was nice to be in the teaching position for once and the boy was pleasant, much in contrast to his sister.

After a week of uneventful sailing, the Anne Mary was still on an eastbound course, but the progress they made did not satisfy her captain. The wind was dying down and it was incredibly hot for this early morning. Captain Carter consulted with the barometer, and his worries increased.

“Barometer’s dropping even more. We’re in for a storm,” he informed his two mates. “Better clear the ship for heavy weather.”

“What about our passengers, father?” Tony asked. “We’ll have to secure the main cabin, and they have to be prepared.”

“Good thinking, son. You go down and see to it.”

A few moments later, Tony Carter knocked on the door of the main cabin. There was a mumble of voices before Lady Lambert’s voice was heard “Yes?”

When Tony entered the cabin, it was evident that the ladies had thrown on their clothes in a big hurry. The girl was only wearing a light cape over what Tony thought was her underwear. He even saw her lower legs and her bare feet and it required some willpower to take his look away from them. When his look went higher, it met the indignant glare of the girl. But Tony, young as he was, had had his share of furious looks from women and it did not trouble him overly much. It was her own fault if she showed him her goods, and he returned her stare with a conspiratorial wink.

Harriet was livid now. The outrage! He was but a lowly sea dog and dared to stare at her legs and wink at her. Yet, his wink also affected her in another region of her body. Harriet felt a tingle in her tummy and through some backdoor of her brain, unholy thoughts crept into her mind.

The young second mate was tall, over six feet, and with wide shoulders. His blond hair was clean and his sunburnt features were even. He was a good looking lad. It might be fun toying with the young man, she thought. She tried to erase that thought, but her conflicting thoughts must have been evident on her face, because the young man grinned openly at her. For a second, she wanted to kill him there and then, but then she could not help but giggle at her own stupidity. Her mother’s voice stopped the interlude.

“What is it that you wanted to tell us, Mr. Porter?”

Tony answered. “It’s Carter, your ladyship. I came to warn you that we expect heavy weather. The glass has been dropping for nigh on twelve hours, and it won’t stop. We are readying the ship for a gale. We need to secure this cabin.”

“Is a hurricane approaching?” the boy asked with gleaming eyes. He had heard so much about those murderous cyclones.

“Let’s hope not,” Tony replied. “Not if we want to talk about it afterwards. If it gets really bad, I will have to take you up on deck and secure you to the main mast. Please make sure that you wear no encumbering clothes. Wear sturdy dresses, or the wind will tear them to shreds. My men will be come soon to shutter the windows and to tie down the fittings. Please be ready by then.”

With a last encouraging smile to the young people, he left the cabin to join the efforts readying the tiny Anne Mary for the horrors of a hurricane.

They had to wait for another five nerve racking hours, though, before the first bolt of lightning flashed from a dark grey sky. Then, hell broke loose around them. All of a sudden, towering waves developed, and the small vessel had problems climbing up the huge rollers. Racing down their backsides was even more dangerous, as there was the constant worry that they might undercut in the trough between the waves.

Old Joseph Fournier, the first mate, was the first victim of the raging sea. He was trying to fight his way back to the steering wheel, when a huge wave swept over the main deck and washed him away. His shipmates, if they saw it, could only watch in helpless horror. Then Captain Carter was caught by a wave, too. He had secured himself to the sturdy taffrail, but when he fell, he was knocked unconscious.

Tony saw it but he could not help his father. The ship was rolling madly on the seas, and what little canvas was exposed to the wind, had already been torn to shreds. In consequence, the ship was not approaching the waves head on but was tumbling sideways. The situation was extremely dangerous, and Tony realised he had to do something.

Grabbing an axe and making sure he still had his knife, he made his way forward, using the intervals between the crashing waves. He reached the weather shrouds of the foremast and began hacking away at the tough, tarred, cordage until the shrouds gave way and the foremast broke off, eight feet above the deck. Trailing by the starboard shrouds, the foremast now served as a sea anchor to keep the little ship’s bow to the waves, marginally increasing their slim chances of survival.

Tony made his way back, and he realised that the movements of the ship were heavy. They must have sprung a leak, he realised. Damn it, the passengers were still in the main cabin! Carefully choosing a moment when the deck was not completely flooded, he opened the cockpit and make his way to the little cabin. The cabin was in surprisingly good order, but the passengers were close to panic, having been thrown about in the dark for more than two hours.

“I have to bring you out on the deck”, he shouted over the howling of the storm. “There’s no way to tell how long the ship can take this. Follow me!”

He managed to bring all three of them on deck. With ropes, he secured them to the sturdy stump of the mainmast. It, too, had succumbed to the power of the hurricane, but there were twenty feet left of it.

The little ship was low in the water now, and the waves washed constantly over its deck. It was clear that she was sinking. Tony made his way over to his father, but one glance told him that the elder Carter was dead. His head had been crushed when a wave smashed him against the taffrail. He would go down with his Anne Mary.

Tony had little time to spare for his grief. His own survival and that of his charges depended on cool headed decisions. He mustered what little was left of the crew: two sailors and a boy. Luckily, the storm was already weakening. The waves were still going high, but their force was abating. There was a small chance of survival.

Chapter 2 »