Captain's Sortie

By Mike Fuller

The American colonial frontier is at war and stained in the blood of farmer and soldier alike. French generals have filled the land with armies of white uniformed troops and their north woods Indian allies. No one is safe from the perils of this conflict that seems to have no end. Captain Ben Deland sails north from the warm Caribbean with more than one mission to accomplish. The war is not going well for the British and Americans in the late winter of 1758 and Ben once again must lead his loyal crew ashore and into the dangerous forests and mountains to face the French and Indians.
But the British have undertaken a great task to stop the French from overwhelming the Hudson and splitting the colonies in two. Captain Deland is drawn to their aid and then has to launch a desperate rescue into the dangerous wilderness filled with enemies to find the victims of the war raging all around them.
Sea and shore action and adventure told through the stories of the men and women who face overwhelming obstacles and evil characters. Real history mixed with rich descriptive portrayals of nature and man set in the violence and uncertainty of war on the colonial frontier. Another thrilling novel from the author of Captain's Cross.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rogue Phoenix Press
• Release date: Jul 7, 2017
• ISBN: 9781624203015

Book preview

Captain’s Sortie

Deland Sea and Land Adventure Novel Book Two

Mike Fuller

Published by Rogue Phoenix Press for Smashwords

Copyright © 2017

ISBN: 978-1-62420-301-5

Electronic rights reserved by Rogue Phoenix Press, all other rights reserved by the author. The reproduction or other use of any part of this publication without the prior written consent of the rights holder is an infringement of the copyright law. This is a work of fiction. People and locations, even those with real names, have been fictionalized for the purposes of this story.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Dedication

To my daughter Colleen and my son Brian. Each have had their own adventures in life and learned from them.

Chapter One

Late Winter 1758

Sail! Sail there, off the bow. The call from the boy at the masthead drew a sharp look from the tall youth at the helm. The helmsman’s young eyes focused out over the tossing ocean spray leaping up and away from the bowsprit of the sloop.

Captain… the helmsman shouted, but swallowed the rest as Ben Deland appeared at the step to the quarterdeck below and to the left, then moved toward the windward stays.

Before he went five paces, Ben turned and his dark eyes met the helmsman’s. The glass, Thomas.

Dogging the ship’s wheel with rope loops, the almost nineteen-year-old reached behind him to a small locker and pulled out the short telescope. He tossed it underhanded to his captain who caught it and then raced to the stay and up to join the lookout in the top. Ben was tall and broad shouldered like the helmsman, but his long dark hair and dark eyes were set on a heavier frame and Ben was just over ten years the helmsman’s senior.

Slipping around the swaying mast, Ben eased up next to the boy looking into his bright, wide eyes staring out between loose strands of unkempt blonde hair. Those eyes flashed a memory of Ben’s long dead father. His father’s widowed sister had been very reluctant to send Ben’s young cousin off to sea, but his father’s other sister and her husband convinced the boy’s mother.

The boy pointed out into the grey mist. There, Sir. A big one. Saw it as we crested a wave.

Ben handed the glass over and said, Here Paul, take another look.

Paul was only twelve, a late addition to the family, but he was a hard-working lad and had earned his bunk on the sixty-two foot sloop, Annabelle. His young eyes were the sharpest of any of the crew, save his cousin and captain. He extended the short glass and locked onto the white speck far out to the north. It took only a moment for him to separate the sail from the white capped waves stirred by the strong winds washing over them from the northwest.

Paul studied the speck and his brow wrinkled above the eyepiece. Ben patiently waited while looking over the unknown ship out to their north each time it came into view in the waves. Ben said, Well, lad? What do you think?

Paul was still not used to his older cousin’s ways. Ben was sometimes rough with his orders and sometimes a jokester, but always teaching and pushing Paul, Thomas and the other crew to think and learn more about the ship, the ocean and people. Could be a frigate, I’m, I’m not sure. She’s a three master, though, whoever she is.

And she’s got the wind on us, Ben said, then took the glass and looked for himself. After only a short time he said, Well, Paul, she has us and if she’s of an ill will, we are greatly outgunned. What should we do?

The boy started to speak, but snapped his mouth shut. It was cold at the top of the mast and though he was barefoot and his deck pants barely reached his ankles, he had not felt it until now. A chill ran merrily down his spine and he found it almost impossible to utter a word.

His captain looked away from the glass and into Paul’s blue eyes. Think a moment. Where we are, and think where the wind is.

Paul swiveled his head and then said, The shoals, and nodded to the west. She can’t follow us there.

Ben smiled, winked and then shouted down to the deck. Wills!

Only a moment later a shiny black head sprinkled thinly with a bit of gray hair popped out of the forward hatch and the grinning face looked up toward the pair at the top. Aye, Captain, I’m here.

Let’s put her closer to the cape. Take the helm. Ben was in motion sliding down a stay and onto the deck landing next to the starboard six pounder. Wills was scrambling out onto the deck and followed Ben up onto the small raised quarterdeck where the auburn haired and slightly bearded Thomas stood.

Ben handed the glass to Thomas and they went to the windward rail as the short and stocky black man took the wheel. Ben said, Let’s look at the charts while we get a little closer and then we can decide how the rest of our day will go.

Ben followed Thomas off the quarterdeck into a passageway and down a narrow short ladder to the galley below. Just forward, at the stove stirring a steaming pot, Jeffrey, their young and thin Canadian cook and half doctor asked, Should I douse this?

Ben hesitated before following Thomas aft into the cramped captain’s cabin and said, No, I think we can elude the newcomer for a while. Long enough for the lads to get a supper. Two more faces, one flushed and sunburned and the other lean and black, appeared from the opening into the cargo hold forward of the galley and crew bunks.

The black man said, A fight, Captain?

Ben replied, I don’t think so, Johnson. You and Martin get up on deck and get ready to come about. We go for the slot. No one, including Johnson himself, knew if he had a first name. Ben sometimes tried to get him to pick one, but Johnson was happy to be freed from slavery and adopted the name as his own, discarding what he’d been called by his former master and the pirates that plundered his fishing boat in the Bahamas then threw him overboard. Ben had not tried to find who may have a claim on Johnson after Johnson had been taken aboard and that seemed to be acceptable to everyone.

Martin was a bit of a mystery, but did his work and Ben let him be. His French accent betrayed his origins, but he had no love for the French King and so he was now aboard Annabelle, so long as she didn’t go anywhere near New Orleans. Only Wills, Jeffrey and Thomas had been with Ben for more than a year. But Annabelle was a gentle sloop that was as fast as she was agreeable to sail. Some of that speed was soon to be tested along with her young captain’s knowledge of the dangerous waters off Cape Hatteras.

It will be a close thing, Thomas said as Ben ducked and entered the cabin. The small space was the width of the ship with windows letting in the afternoon light across the stern. Only a small, sturdy wooden table and two plain chairs occupied the deck between the captain’s bunk and a narrow bench under the windows. Thomas was bent over the table holding the edges of a chart spread out under his gaze. The chart was well worn and generously marked with notes and cryptic messages from years of experience put there by former owners and by the captain, who moved next to Thomas where he could see the chart in the light from the windows.

Ben stuck a finger to the chart and said, I put us here. Thomas had learned much since Ben rescued him five years ago from a cold frontier cabin, orphaned and alone. The quivering victim of a savage Indian attack had grown inches in height and inches across his shoulders since. A short, razor sharp sword hung from his belt in a rough leather scabbard and a heavy knife was on the opposite side at his right hip. He was now as familiar with the ship and Ben’s charts as Ben himself and his advice was well received.

More like here. Thomas picked a spot just north of where Ben had. The wind has freshened since noon. We should come back to the shoal now and draw her to us. That should smoke out their intentions and their flag.

Ben hesitated just a moment to calculate the tide and then said, Well our bottom may get the scrubbing she needs sooner than later. But I fear she is but one of several that lurk here. We race for darkness and escape. I don’t want to take them on.

Thomas was startled at Ben’s timidity. They’d been in several fights with the ship since the war began to get warm and Ben always sailed to the sound of the guns without turning away. Thomas gave Ben a curious look.

Ben saw that and sighed. He stepped to the locker beneath his bunk and removed a cloth sack heavy with stones. From the sack, he pulled a sealskin pouch wrapped tight with a leather strap. Holding it out to Thomas he said, I have not told you of this until now. This must make it to New York. The Admiral has entrusted us and two other fast sloops with these dispatches. One of us has to break through the French pirates to deliver it. I have more confidence in us than the others.

Thomas stood back from the chart and nodded. He’d come to accept what Ben said as sensible and straightforward. Then we are once again in service to His Majesty?

Ben returned the nod. Once again. This war has forced us to do more than we should. Ben returned the pouch to the locker. "This is our first unfriendly sail since leaving Jamaica; our first challenge. The French, and I have little doubt our sail is a French pirate, hope to pinch us off as we weather the cape, but I think they have not bargained on Annabelle’s swiftness."

The sloop was fast into the wind, as fast as any Ben had ever known. But his thoughts went back to just a month before…

The dawn was not doing much to brighten the dark waters of the Mona Passage. Ben was straining to make the sail appear to his north in the dim light. The French had chased them into the wind from the salt pans of the Turks and lost one of their sloops in the effort. But it was the Spanish that worried Ben now.

The cannonball rip in Annabelle’s foresail was the beginning of the end for the fastest French ship on their wake. Unwilling to let the Frenchman run Annabelle down, Ben had to turn to replace the sail and that ended in a quick and deadly fight. The Frenchman was not able to turn with Annabelle and Thomas’ second nine pounder chainshot through the mast slewed the Frenchman off the chase to tend to rigging and bloody sailors on the mangled deck. Their ripped sail was the only casualty on Annabelle, save the bruised ego of young Paul who’d fallen through an open hatch and missed most of the cannon work.

Thomas joined Ben at the windward rail and tugged at Ben’s shirt. We have what I think is a Spaniard off the larboard bow.

Ben’s heart jumped and he led Thomas there to see for himself. Their run south was not to be without issue. Once clear of the turbulent waters of the passage, he could turn west and run for the British fleet at Port Royal. Some promise of help if the Brits were at sea and not swilling Claret in the sticky heat of the fortress.

Climbing up and out into the rigging of the bowsprit, Ben found footing and brought the small glass to his eye. He shuddered a bit at the image of the Spanish warship in the haze. The three-masted ship was the equivalent of a British schooner and likely carried twenty guns or more. The Spaniard would have no mercy on them and soon would have both the sun and wind advantage.

Ben turned the glass to the west and tried to gauge where the turn to round Hispaniola would be. A downwind race with the Spanish ship would likely end in their demise. The winds were strong from the east, but the mountains around San Juan played tricks and the passage was plagued with swirls and shifts. To reverse and go back into the pursuing French was not an option.

"Let’s have at them, Thomas. We’ll see if he handles his sails in the tumult as well as you. Bring her up into the wind a bit and ready the guns…"

Thomas rolled the chart and returned it to the hanging locker next to the cabin door, stepped under the overhead and went up the steps in the passageway to the deck. Ben followed and went to the quarterdeck as Thomas went to the mast.

Mr. Wills, we shall bring her over to the west. See if our new friend wishes to test the tide over the shoals with us, Ben said.

Wills stood aside and let Ben take the wheel. Dat will be a fine ting ta see, it will. I’ll see ta da fore sails, if ya please. The stout Jamaican stepped and leapt from the quarterdeck out onto the main deck and scampered past the cannons to the bow where Martin waited by the jib sheets. Wills had been with Ben since Ben inherited his uncle’s schooner at age sixteen and traded the bigger ship for two smaller ones. Now Annabelle ran coastal trade when she wasn’t being pressed into the King’s service and the smaller cutter carried passengers on the Hudson out of Rondout Landing. Wills had been carpenter on Ben’s Uncle Reuben’s schooner and taught Ben ships and the sea since Ben was taken aboard at seven. Now Annabelle was Wills’ home. His knowledge was as vast as was his good nature. Young Paul was his latest project now that Thomas had grown into a fine young first officer.

At the top of the mast, the boy looked to Ben who signaled him down. The ship to the north was just visible from the deck now and Paul’s hands were needed on deck. He would take his keen eyes aloft again once the ship was set on its new course. Paul went forward with Wills and Martin and Jeffrey came up from the galley to help Thomas and Johnson at the main.

It was still odd to Ben as he looked at his crew in their places. For years he’d sailed with his old friend, Bear. The half black, half Susquehannock Indian was a giant in stature and intellect. Often quoting Shakespeare and discussing philosophy with Wills or Ben, he was missed on the ship, but had other important duties these days. Bear ran Ben’s other enterprise, hunting meat in the New York frontier mountains. Since the war, the meat now went to the military instead of the kitchens of the Manhattans. Ben’s meat smoking camp crew was north of Albany this winter, keeping the troops of Fort Edward in elk and venison. And Bear’s young Mohawk wife wanted him close to home to keep her lodge warm and fill it with Mohawk babies. Ben suspected he would find a second son on Bear’s knee when he returned up the Hudson as the ice cleared.

Ready, lads; coming about! Ben shouted. Hands went to lines and Ben threw the wheel to larboard and put the wind over the starboard rail. The ocean bottom would now begin to rise up toward Annabelle’s keel and it would be a test of nerve for Ben and the captain of the unknown, and surely unfriendly, ship closing in from the north. The sails were trimmed and the ship drove hard through the rough sea. Though she wasn’t a very large ship, Annabelle was graceful and could out run almost anything on the ocean when tight into the wind. No square-rigged ship could sail as close or as fast, at least Ben had not found one yet. He hoped today was not the exception.

Ben felt the ship heel under him as she wrung every bit of speed from the gusty northwest wind. Glancing again at the approaching ship, he saw her turn to cut them off. That answered any doubt left in his mind. Thomas led everyone except Wills and Jeffrey down the forward hatch. They emerged moments later carrying shot and powder. The guns would be loaded, just in the chance Ben’s plan needed a little help. Wills fussed with the jib and foresail, adjusting their set and Jeffrey went below to ready a quick meal before the time came to meet the oncoming ship.

The main and the guns had been Bear’s domain, but had been passed on to Thomas. Thomas was an artist with a long rifle and with the figuring he learned from Bear to sight the sun at noon and determine their position at sea, he was quick to learn gunnery as well. The ship carried only four guns. She relied on speed for her best defense, but the two six pounders and two nine pounders could strike an effective blow. Ben figured their foe was armed with at least twenty guns and he did not wish to trade broadsides.

Thomas had the starboard guns ready and they made a return to the cargo hold to gather the makings for the larboard two. Two small swivel guns were mounted on the rails either side of the wheel, but if they got close enough to be used, Annabelle would be in very big trouble. Ben did not bother to remove their sealskin muzzle covers or prime the locks. Paul, now covered in black grease and gunpowder, scrambled back up the mast and took his place there. Johnson and Martin went below to eat and Thomas joined Ben at the wheel.

I’d give a week’s labor for one of those winter rainstorms now, Thomas said as he spotted the other ship with the small glass. No flag to be seen, Sir. She’s well canvassed and freshly painted. Her captain seems to know his ship.

But does he know these shoals as well as you, Thomas? Ben said and saw Thomas adjust the short sword at his belt. That sword came to Thomas by way of a failed highwayman on land. It served Thomas well and took its first life at Thomas’ hand before he turned fourteen. The thin little boy had grown into a powerful young man who was a very capable ship’s officer now and not one to take lightly in any serious situation.

Are we to bypass the Potomac then? Go on to the Hudson instead? Thomas asked, still looking through the glass.

No, Suzanne will be at Mount Vernon waiting for us with the children. If that young Washington hasn’t swept her up and away from me. It’s your tender young Polly I would worry more about. Ben showed Thomas a toothy grin when Thomas dropped the glass and spun to look at him. Thomas’ face went blank, but he flushed red and then they both laughed together.

He’s a rogue, but I doubt your wife will suffer any foolishness, Thomas said and then went below to fetch his and Ben’s supper. Ben’s young wife, the former Suzanne Jovalle, was the daughter of a too rich and arrogant Huguenot farmer from New Paltz. Her father brought her with him for the trip on Annabelle from Rondout Landing to Charles Town in Carolina five years ago. The adventure tempered the father’s disposition and drew Ben to the beautiful farmer’s daughter. They wed the next year and a daughter and a son kept their New Paltz home alive with chatter and joy.

The war changed their plans and until the issue with the French, the Ohio and the Canadian Indians was settled, they agreed to move Suzanne and the children to Virginia for the winter. Ben’s seventeen-year-old cousin, Polly, was travelling with Suzanne helping with the children. Polly and Thomas were well acquainted and Ben saw much of the same fire in Thomas, stirred by the fair Polly, that had been inside himself, stirred by Suzanne.

The French were in force north of Albany and appeared ready to move south to claim the Hudson and all of New England as well as the Ohio. A slow to rally England was losing almost every encounter with the French and seemed unable to marshal an army or a leader to stop them. Ben’s Huguenot great grandparents fled the Catholic French and came to America. He held no illusions as to what life under His Catholic Majesty would be like. More troops were rumored to arrive from England, but Ben was concerned they would be in time.

Thomas returned with two bowls of stew. He handed one to Ben and they took turns spooning mouthfuls and handling the wheel. The sail to the north kept coming closer.

Paul, come down and eat, we can see him clearly now, Ben shouted up the mast. Ben was still worried about a second or third sail, but the boy had to eat and Ben didn’t want him aloft when the hard decisions had to be made. Paul slid down a stay and disappeared below.

Martin and Johnson were back on deck, as was Wills who put the