Knight of the Black Flag: A Novel

By Shawn A. Lawson

As the War of the Spanish Succession, 1702, rages through the American colonies between Spain and England, a merchant sea captain James Beard and his young son, Edward, participate in the colonial siege of Saint Augustine. The boy, Edward, has shown courage and seamanship beyond his years and is moved by the epic battle that he watches unfold.

Later, while sailing an errand with his father, their ship comes into contact with Caribbean privateers, led by the notorious Captain Charles Vane. Moved by the ideology of the freebooter, Edward swears that one day he wants to be just like his new hero. After being betrayed by the colonial government and facing financial ruin, his father makes the decision to pursue a career in privateering, taking Edward along for the journey.

The Beards and their ship, the Emmeline, quickly gain notoriety upon the high seas. Over time, Edward grows into a man and sets his own course for adventure, following in his fathers wake, as a privateer himself in Queen Annes War.

Years later, the war has endedthe privateers disbanded. Yet again feeling betrayed by his government, Edward and his loyal crew are set upon an errand to search for a sunken Spanish treasure ship. Leaving the love of his life behind, Edward sets a course for enemy waters that will change his life forever.

Instead of Spanish treasure, he finds an ocean full of cutthroats and ports full of enemy soldiers. Edward quickly learns that retrieving the Spanish gold may cost him more than hed bargained for. On the brink of losing everything that he holds dear, he discovers a new path. It is an adventure that fills his pockets with more gold than he could have ever imagined but may end up costing him his very soul.

How far is Edward willing to allow the winds of the storm to push his sails? Will he ever make it back to the life that he once knew? Whether he survives the perilous journey or gets swallowed in the wake of who he has had to become, he will be forever remembered. For the world will never forget Blackbeardthe pirate!

Knight of the Black Flag captures the romanticism and adventure of the pirate genre but, at the same time, takes the reader to places previously unexplored. This is an amazing tale that challenges every stereotype that has come to epitomize this amazing figure and the life that he led. It is rooted in the small fragments of truth that have been recorded over the ages. Names and real events were pulled straight out of Colonial American deed books from Bath County, NC, 17021718, and blended with a wildly entertaining tale that will leave the reader wanting more (The Kirkland Press).

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546222996

Shawn A. Lawson

Shawn A. Lawson is the author of The Christmas Canteen, Knight of the Black Flag, and Uncle Otis. He and his wife live in Gloucester, Virginia.

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© 2018 Shawn A. Lawson. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse    01/10/2018

ISBN: 978-1-5462-2301-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-2300-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-2299-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018900086

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and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Prologue

I        November, 13th 1702

          (Sixteen Years Earlier)

II       August, 7th 1706

          (Four Years Later)

III      September, 8th 1711

          (Four Years Later)

IV      October, 13th 1714

          (Three Years Later)

V       September 18th, 1715

VI      July, 1717

VII     May 19th, 1718

VIII   September, 1718

IX      November 22nd, 1718

X       December 12th, 1718

          Williamsburg, Virginia Colony

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

For

James Creighton

May the adventure continue…

PROLOGUE

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November 22nd, 1718

T he sea tapped lightly against the hull of the ship. From inside the small cabin the sound was haunting, as if the dead were gently knocking from the outside - begging to be let aboard with the living. Edward imagined just who it might be on the other side of the wooden planks. He’d lost so many over the years. Some of them close friends, some he’d hardly known at all, still others put there by his own hand. He could see all of their faces as he listened to them clawing from beneath the murky water. Blame set upon their lifeless faces – contempt for him, resentment for he was still among the living. If they knew just how ill he was, just how close he was to joining them in the afterlife, would they give him a few moments of peace then? Would they let his mind rest for even minute? No, surely they would not. For it was him that they sought relentlessly – without pause – always in the dark shadows of the ship. Those outside in the water, tapping gently on the hull, they were the emissaries of death, and they would not break from the pursuit until they took him under with them, or took from him everyone that he loved. He was so very tired of running and he wondered just how much longer he could keep it up. How much longer could he continue to protect the ones that he’d endangered?

There had been a plan once – hadn’t there? A simple one of making an honest living. Of retiring one day to the comforts of the community that his father had worked so hard to help establish. The town that he himself had sacrificed so very much for. Ransoms he’d paid with his own blood so that the town could sink its anchor just a little deeper into the sand of this unforgiving acreage. Payments made so that his own family didn’t suffer being wiped from the banks of the Pamlico River along with every other cowardly inhabitant that called the place home.

In his hand, Edward grasped a letter. It had arrived late yesterday evening and was addressed from Tobias. Edward had to read it twice before the reality of it began to sink in. Now, every time that he reexamined the perfectly inked parchment the words cut into him like a knife. He fought back his rage. He lay in his hammock trying to convince himself that it was not a good idea to sail up the river and confront the cowardly whelp face to face. To let Tobias Knight and the Governor know that if they were going to take these measures to erase his involvement within the community, then they had better erase their own. For if they were acting like he were guilty of the being the harbinger of the crimes committed, then he would declare that they themselves were just as guilty as he and his crew. He wanted to sail to town, to speak his mind, but what good would it really do? He took a match and lit the edge of the paper. The letter burned all the way to his fingers before he released it, letting its remains fall with smoking tendrils to the floor of his small cabin. Truth be told, the news actually worked in his favor when he thought it through. Having no records connecting him to the town would help to protect Susannah and the child. Secure their good name if he were ever found. No one hunted him by his Christian name. He’d always been very careful about that.

The measures that he’d taken would preserve his father’s name as well. One of Edward’s greatest fears had always been that the legacy his father had worked so very hard to cultivate would be tarnished by Edward’s actions. That couldn’t be allowed. The decent memory of James Beard could never be overshadowed by the debauchery of the past eighteen months.

He lay on his cot – nothing more than a piece of canvass strung between the bulkheads of his tiny cabin. A bottle of rum lay on his chest. He pulled the cork with his teeth and took a deep pull of the elixir. It burned going down. Reminded him of his first taste when he was just a boy with Vane and his father back in Port Royal. He wondered if Vane was still at large – still fighting his damned rebellion. He figured that as long as Vane was able to draw a breath into his lungs, he would be fighting the revolt. Did Edward regret not sailing with Vane just a little more than a week ago when the old captain passed by here on his way up north? Nay, he did not. Sailing with Vane these days was the same as charting a course directly to the hangman’s noose. Edward wanted rid of it all. He’d made his money. Hidden not far away was more coin than he would ever be able to spend. He had more up north with Margret. The thought of Margret made him smile. It always did. He chuckled when he thought of his last trip to see her and his meeting Daniel Cooper. It hurt his stomach to laugh, so he tried to refrain.

Drinking rum was just about all that soothed the ache in his guts these days. He refused to take the concoction that the doctor had prescribed. It didn’t quell the pain any better than the bottle of rum that he held in his hand and gave him the shits to boot. Besides, based on the good doctor’s prognosis, he could drink the hold full of the miserable medicine and it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference. He recollected talking with Doc. Lluellyn just a few days past. The doctor was so concerned for Edward’s health that he wanted to start bloodletting right away, but Edward steadfastly refused. No one had cut him yet that hadn’t paid dearly for the effort and there was no way that he would volunteer to have anyone do it now. No, by God, he would keep his blood inside of him for as long as he could, thank ye’ very much!

He thought of how awkward it was to have the bad news delivered to him as he shared the doctor’s office with Israel. The two of them had made eye contact as the doctor was going over his findings with Edward. Lluellyn was speaking low so that no one else could hear, but Israel let on with his eyes that he knew. His leg was wrapped in bandages soaked with blood, and his skin a shade or two lighter, sweat beaded on his face and arms, the collar of his shirt soaked wet. All a result of his own pain and suffering. Pain and suffering inflicted by Edward, yet there was still compassion in his eyes – pity mayhap. Somehow he knew that he might walk with a limp for the rest of his life, but for Edward’s situation, he would not trade.

Edward sat upright and placed his feet on the floor of his cabin. His innards were on fire. He took another swig from the bottle hoping that the pain would subside. It didn’t at first, but began to as he sat there. He spit between his feet as his head hung low. There was blood in the saliva.

He wondered how Isabella would take the news. They’d planned to sail away from here together. To start a new life somewhere. Could she deal with any more heartbreak? She’d suffered so much already. He needed her. Needed her now. He would sail to her later today. He would ignore Knight’s letter. He had other matters to attend to. He’d planned to go to town to check on word from William. His friend should have returned by now. It had been too long. Edward worried for William – his blood brother.

Footsteps approached his cabin door quickly and before he could look up, the door sprang open. An African, standing well over six foot tall, with multiple scars across his chest stood in the doorway. His hair was long and nappy, twisted into points that resembled spikes all across his head. Cesar’s voice, with more panic than Edward could ever remember hearing in it, broke the silence. Captain, a ship approaches from the north.

William? Edward was hopeful.

I think not, Cesar said, with a certain degree of regret, It looks like it could be trouble.

Edward raised his head. His eyes were weak and bloodshot. Cesar contemplated on telling the captain to stay put and he would take care of it, but he knew that if it were in fact any sort of emergency - they would need Edward on deck.

Edward stood, keeping one hand across his stomach to suppress the pain and reaching for his sword with the other. He gently slid his blade into the sash that he wore around his waist and took a deep breath. He regarded his loyal friend for a moment before he spoke, We’ve seen enough trouble…haven’t we, Cesar?

Aye, Captain. Enough for two lifetimes! Cesar took a step closer to Edward when the captain just stood there in the dark looking at him. Captain…Is everything alright?

Why did we do it, Cesar?

Do what, Captain? The African was growing concerned that the Captain may have a fever. He was not acting himself.

Have I done right by you and the others? Edward asked.

Aye, Captain. Every day that I’ve sailed with you, Cesar agreed.

Edward nodded his head. Like hearing Cesar’s confirmation was enough for him. I was just trying to leave something behind. You understand, don’t you?

Cesar was a bit perplexed, but agreed again by saying, Aye, Captain. Your legacy will live on through the ages.

Edward smiled at his old friend. He stood for a few moments longer in the shadow of the cabin like he was letting Cesar’s words resonate, then he said, Well then, with a frail, reassuring smile, let’s see who it is that calls on us so early in the morning. Shall we?

Edward walked slowly past Cesar. The morning sunlight revealed just how frail and unhealthy he’d become. The small crew already on deck hailed as he joined them. Once Edward was past the door where Cesar stood, the captain strode upright and poised like he didn’t have a single ache in his body. Cesar knew different. He smiled, impressed by Edward’s strength and the way that the other’s responded to him.

Cesar closed the door behind him, leaving the captain’s cabin silent, dark and empty.

I

November, 13th 1702

(Sixteen Years Earlier)

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A dozen dinghies, filled beyond their capacity, rowed slowly with the rolling waves towards the dark beach. The small crafts’ single sail was useless in the headwind - the oars moved in unison from the edges of the boat. As they dug into the dark ocean, a small splash of white foam was visible in the clear moonlight. With each stroke, the oarsmen grunted and chanted in accord to keep the boats moving forward. Ahead of them, on the shore, the fires burned in the village of St. Augustine - the result of the Spanish cannon being fired from the fort just outside of the town. Other fires burned, embers dancing upwards before disappearing into the darkness, these from the torches of the Englishmen who were already ashore. They prepared to push forward toward the fort in an effort to get their own cannon into range to return the harassment.

In the distance burned the smoldering hulk of a Spanish Frigate - scuttled by her own crew as they’d approached. The burning carcass of the once great ship provided enough light to silhouette the seven ships in the English flotilla.

Captain James Beard stood at the railing of his Brigantine, an aging merchantman he’d named Emmeline, after his late wife. The Captain watched anxiously as the latest wave of the assault progressed towards the beach. Other soldiers waited eagerly behind him on the deck, observing the battle for themselves, their fellow countrymen taking a thrashing from the Spanish cannon in the distance. James wondered if it was more difficult for the men to stand and watch as they waited for transport to shore than it would have been for them just to go with the first wave of troops and get it over with. Sometimes, anticipation of something horrible could be worse than the actual event, and the tension among the men on deck was growing thicker with every barrage that the Spanish hurled toward their countrymen.

Another series of cannon blasts erupted from the fortress with a thunderous roar. The explosion caused the weathered sea captain to flinch as the flames from the iron-shot arched across the midnight sky and landed with furious devastation in the town near where the Englishmen were trying to organize their attack. He didn’t know why he’d flinched – he had little concern that the guns were aimed at him. His ship was anchored well out of the range. What worried him was that some of his friends and neighbors were among the combatants and they all appeared helplessly outgunned at the moment. A strong gust blew across the battlefield. The embers of the rooftop fires were swept up in the air by the squall and dropped throughout the town. The same wind that was spreading the fiery devastation wafted across the water and blew into his face. The blast was cool and refreshing, but smelled of sulfur, cordite and death.

The latest wave of men were nearly to the beach as more cannon fire erupted. He used his looking glass and could see the silhouettes of the Spanish soldiers along the top of the fortress walls. The Spaniards were working feverishly to reload the cannon – intent on inflicting another round of devastation upon their attackers. Captain Beard felt helpless, as he watched the men climb from the boats and begin to make their way up the beach and into the town. He was proud of his countrymen as they courageously charged, joining their companions under the guns of the fort. It concerned him that they were so vulnerable, but there was literally nothing that he could do to assist them. He only had a half dozen six pound cannons on his ship. It was hardly enough firepower to make a difference against the fort. Not to mention that his ship was useless against the two Spanish frigates anchored in the inlet. The enemy ships were waiting patiently for some fool sea captain to bring his vessel in a little too close so that they could pounce on him, like a lion on its prey. He couldn’t risk his ship, or more importantly his crew for such a futile effort. His orders from Lieutenant Gilbert were to anchor where he was and get these soldiers to the beach. That was exactly what he’d been doing for nearly an hour now, but it didn’t seem like it was going to be enough. The plan that Governor Moore was trying to execute looked like a suicide mission for the poor men going ashore.

Frustrated, and unable to watch the carnage any longer - he turned and faced away. He found himself staring at the faces of the thirty or so soldiers who were still aboard the ship. They now looked at the Captain with questioning eyes, eyes that were asking him for some sort of reassurance that everything was going to be okay. He could offer no reassurances and looked away.

The Lieutenant, the one actually in charge of these men, had disembarked with the first wave of troops to help organize the landing on the beach. His departure had left the mostly volunteer group without any real leadership onboard. Some of the faces that Captain Beard saw staring back at him in the moonlight were just boys and not much older than his own son. The thought of Edward made him realize that with all that had been going on, he hadn’t seen the boy in quite some time. He searched the deck until he laid his eyes on Edward. His son was standing near the stern and holding onto some rigging. He watched as the Spanish guns fired once again. As James looked at his son, a mixture of terror and amazement in the boy’s expression, he was reminded of his own youth. It had been a lifetime ago. Time had passed so swiftly. It seemed like yesterday that he had been a boy, playing with his brother in the Scottish highlands – a happier time in his life, and now he stood here with this conflict being waged all around him. His own son was watching the battle unfold as flames and destruction overtook the small village, surrounding the fort of St. Augustine.

Edward was twelve years old, had strong Scottish features of his father, dark deep set eyes, black hair and squared chin, mixed with the softer, more attractive features of his late mother, may God rest her soul. At times, he proved to be just as stubborn as his mother, and it frustrated James as much coming from his son, as it had from his wife. Edward could be rambunctious and defiant, but despite his spirit, he was as smart as a whip. The boy’s disobedience was the catalyst for James’ decision of pulling Edward from his studies and working him aboard the ship. Previously, he’d been in the care of James’ second, and still fairly new wife, Elizabeth. Being a merchant sea captain, James spent a considerable amount of time away from his family. They were all still new and trying to get to know each other – both of his children were born from his union with his first wife.

Susannah, his youngest, was never a topic of discussion between the Captain and his young wife, as it seemed that Elizabeth and Susannah got along just fine, but Edward seemed to give Elizabeth fits. He was always into something that he had no business being into, like sassing the adults and fighting with the other children. The straw that broke the camel’s back and led to him being pulled from his studies was the time that Edward had stolen the neighbor’s Marconi boat. This had taken place a couple of years ago, when he was only ten years old. Edward, frustrated with his young stepmother, had decided to run away, and with only a loaf of fresh bread that he’d taken from the kitchen and his pocketknife, he got the notion to steal the boat and sail away. With James out sailing on a voyage, Elizabeth was worried sick when Edward didn’t come in at curfew and had the entire community of Charles Town searching for the boy. When they realized the missing boat, the locals had taken to the water in search of the boy. James’ own brother William, had been the one to locate Edward as the boy sailed the stolen Marconi out of the river, through the harbor and headed into the open ocean. It had taken some time and effort on the part of Uncle William before finally catching the boy since the Marconi that Edward was sailing was much smaller and more nimble than William’s cutter, but young Edward had stopped for provisions on the second day of the chase and was apprehended. Luckily, his uncle had personal ties with Governor Moore, two were neighbors and hunting buddies, and was able to use his influence with the governor to keep the Marconi owner’s formal charges out of court. At that point, James had no choice but to put the young boy to work on the Emmeline. He couldn’t risk any more trouble from the youngster, and Elizabeth all but refused to be accountable for the boy from that point on.

James didn’t like his family being split - with Susannah and Elizabeth in Charles Town and he and Edward out on the sea like they were. He wished that he’d had more time with them all, but he also had no regrets. He’d always done what he needed to do to keep rations on the family table and the keep the taxman satisfied enough for them to maintain possession of their property in town.

James had hoped for years that his son would take to the books and be able to make a good living for himself one day and not have to work the seas, like James had done for his entire life. But it wasn’t going to be so, and James knew it.

The silver lining was that Edward naturally had the intellect of a man twice his age, but seemingly could only focus on things that he found interested in. If it wasn’t a subject that Edward found intriguing – there was very little anyone could do to encourage him. James had spanked the boy on a fairly regular basis, when he was a youngster, before realizing that it did little good. Edward had an unusual toughness for a child and a demeanor that was hard to intimidate so the spankings neither hurt, nor scared him. It wasn’t until James decided to put Edward to work on the ship that he began to gain a deeper understanding of the boy.

Edward seemed to love the water and sailing and James realized that where he couldn’t motivate his son with punishments, he could with rewards. At first Edward was mopping the decks, assisting the ships cook, and making minor repairs to the sails and rigging, but recently in the last few months, he’d showed an aptitude for navigation. James decided that if his boy was to be a seafarer, he may as well learn all that his mind could absorb; which in Edward’s case seemed to be more than the other twelve crewmembers combined. Before long, James made the decision to appoint Edward as second mate and third in command. Though such a high position was unusual for such a young boy, most of the crew liked and respected the young protégé – most of them.

James began to teach Edward all that he knew about sailing a ship, weather patterns, tides, and navigation. The boy had an aptitude for the trade like no one James had ever sailed with before. The only thing that Edward lacked was maturity, but that would come in time. Over the past few months the captain felt like they were growing closer. He’d always wanted to be close to his son. It was something that he regretted never having with his own father. He was happy that Edward was here with him.

James’ father, Charles Beard, had also been a sea captain and had sailed out of Aberdeen, where James and his brother William were born and raised. James spent his youth not ever really knowing his father, since the life of a sea captain didn’t leave much time for a family. When Charles was in port, he spent his time staying active in the political affairs of the village. It was an interest that James had never had a mind for as a young man, but being the son of such a politically minded father, it was the only way that the two of them were ever able to communicate. Charles was a proud Scot and he was even more proud that the throne was firmly in the hands of the Stuarts. Given the fact that the Scots had been treated unfairly for years by the English – it was a sign that things were changing for the better in Scotland. If nothing else, Charles believed it, so he took up politics to do his part.

Like any good son, James took to his father’s trade and his political beliefs when he was of age. He was still very young when he set out to sea, aboard a ship that hailed from Bristol. It was there in port that he met Emmeline and fell in love with her. She was the daughter of a cobbler, and worked in her father’s shop on the docks of Bristol until James stole her heart, and carried her away. She’d meant everything to James and from the start, he loved her deeply. She became pregnant soon after they married, and Edward was born. The baby boy had reminded James of his wife right away. He had her dark complexion and her smile.

The cannon boomed again in the distance, pulling James back to reality. He could tell that the boy was shaken by the violence taking place on shore. Edward had never experienced conflict, the likes of which were being waged only a short distance away. James himself had only seen it like this once before - and then only from a distance.

James watched Edward as he took in the battle as it was unfolding. Edward turned away from the fight and looked apprehensively at his father. Tightening his jaw, he nodded in James’ direction pretending to be at ease with what was going on, but James knew his son. Despite the tough outward appearance that Edward tried to display, he could see the concern in the boy’s face. James smiled and nodded back, before turning to the waiting soldiers and said, Have no fear men. It looks much worse than it actually is.

It was a remark to which someone from the rear of the crowd replied, I truly hope so Captain, because it looks like we’re getting our asses kicked.

A few of the other men offered nervous laughs.

William O’Neal, the Emmeline’s carpenter was standing near the bow and pointed in the direction of the other English ships. Sir, a boat approaches.

James strained his eyes in the darkness and could see that, in fact, a small boat was coming from the direction of the HMS Dunkirk, the English flagship. It was too dark to tell who was aboard, but James was pretty certain that the boat was bringing new orders. Perhaps Governor Moore had realized the futileness of this direct assault and had devised a new strategy. James stood beside Edward and awaited the boats arrival.

It took several more minutes for the craft to reach the Emmeline, and in the meantime the dinghies that were shuttling the men ashore had made it halfway back to the anchored ships as well. In a few more moments, the only people left aboard the Emmeline would be James and his crew, and then he could allow his men to rest, in shifts of course, he needed as many lookouts as he could have on deck, just in case the Frigates decided to come out of the harbor. The men had all been awake for nearly twenty hours straight. They had the glazed over look of the walking dead in their eyes.

A voice called out from the darkness in the direction of the small boat as it pulled alongside the larger Brigantine. Captain Beard?

I am here, James said, State your business.

The Governor demands your presence on his flagship, Captain.

James was somewhat confused by this request, due to the assault that was currently ongoing ashore. Surely, the Governor had more serious matters to attend to than holding council with the merchant captains. What could he possibly want? James couldn’t imagine a situation where the Governor would require his presence. One moment, James said to the man in the boat. The timing was not good. His first mate, Henry Reid was currently not onboard, since he’d been charged with manning one of the dinghies. If James departed now, Edward would be in charge of the Emmeline until Henry’s return. A return that could take some time since Henry had another trip to make to the beach ferrying the rest of the soldiers. That being said, with the battle growing out of hand and more and more in the favor of the Spanish, there was no time to delay, so he turned to Edward.

For the first time during this whole ordeal, James could see the boy was no longer making an effort to maintain the aura of a hardened seaman. Edward now simply looked like a scared child. Before his son could speak, James addressed him. He’d never been one to soften his words with Edward and now was no exception. If Edward was to be the second mate in James’s absence, then he was going to have to act like a man in front of the others. Get that look from upon your face, boy, James admonished Edward, This is no time for you to snivel. I am being called upon, and I must go. I won’t be long, but you have to hold things together while I’m away. James had been talking low so that he only addressed Edward and wasn’t overheard by the others on the deck of the ship. Then, he spoke louder as he said, Second Mate, finish seeing these men ashore and hold this position until I return.

Edward had a terrified look on his face, and his eyes were welling up with tears. James knew that the boy was frightened to begin with, but now he was especially so with James leaving the ship. Edward glanced at the Spanish Frigates in the inlet and without saying, revealed to his father what was worrying him so much. James spoke softly again so that only Edward could hear, Don’t fear those warships. If they do attack, it will be after first light. They won’t risk coming out into the open water for battle until they can clearly see what they are up against. I will only be a short time away and will return long before first light.

Edward nodded, wiped his eyes, and took a deep breath. Aye, Captain, he said, in a voice that was still soft and prepubescent.

James took an extra second to look into his son’s eyes to see if there was any hesitation – the flames of the battle ashore were reflected in the blacks of them, but nothing else. Then he turned and addressed the rest of his crew and the awaiting soldiers. I shall return shortly, and in my absence I leave the second mate in command. James met the eyes of the crew members that were gathered nearby. Jack Sawyer, the boatswain, William O’Neal, Stanley Rathmore, the rigger, and Duncan Addington, the cook. The Emmeline’s young deckhands were standing in a group near the ship’s wheel. Among them was fourteen year old William Howard. Edward’s best friend and the son of James’ friend Philip Howard. The other deck hands were Maurice Smith, Edward Salter, and James Robins - all young boys like Edward and William. They were also all from Charles Town and James knew most of their families. He feared that something bad would happen while he was away and he would be held responsible for losing the lives of nearly all of the young men from his home town.

The rest of the crew looked just as apprehensive as James and Edward did. They were merchant seamen, not soldiers and, in that moment, James questioned his decision to volunteer the service of his ship and his crew. He considered unloading the remaining troops and setting sail for Charles Town, but he had made a commitment to his queen and the Carolina Colony. To backtrack out of this expedition now would be considered treason and would ruin him forever. He placed his weathered tricorn hat atop his head and said, For god and queen, and then he climbed down the rope ladder to the waiting boat and disappeared into the darkness; leaving Edward standing on the deck with the rest of the men. Another barrage of the Spanish cannon exploded, causing them all to flinch as the fury boomed in the distance.

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C oming alongside the HMS Dunkirk in the small row boat, James realized the true size of the Governor’s ship. He prepared to steady the small craft as it made contact with the side of the much larger vessel. The frigate Dunkirk was the largest sailing craft in the fleet that had sailed down from Charles Town, and there was little question why Governor Moore had chosen it to be his flagship. It was also beginning to make sense to James why they’d recruited the smaller vessels like the Emmeline to transport the troops. It was much easier to transfer troops and Indians to the dinghies from ships that had decks closer to the water. James’ arms were starting to fatigue as he climbed the rope ladder up the side. He passed the gunwales and as he did, he peeked through a port hole. There was very little movement in the dimly lit space within. Though it was fully armed, the cannons hadn’t been fired from the Dunkirk or any of the other English ships in the fleet for that matter. Evidently, the Governor was not willing to risk his fleet to the Spanish guns just yet and kept them out of range.

James finished the climb and was helped up to the deck by a young man in a navy jacket. The man grabbed his arm to keep the Captain from losing his footing, while he climbed over the railing. Once on deck, James glanced across the water in the direction of the Emmeline. Things appeared to be going well over there. The dinghies had returned, and if thing were going the way that they should, the last load of troops were preparing to head for the beach. As he was standing there, another man wearing a blue English navy coat and a powder wig approached, Captain Beard, I presume.

Aye, James said.

Please, follow me, The frail, unhealthy looking man motioned with his arm, The Governor is expecting you.

James followed the frail man towards the Captain’s cabin. As they walked the length of the deck, James noticed that most of the crew were either laying around resting on the deck or sitting in small groups, smoking tobacco and conversing quietly. It was a stark contrast to the scene playing out just a short distance away on the beaches of St. Augustine. As if to punctuate the thought, the guns on the fort roared again, vibrating the wooden deck of the ship. The crew didn’t seem to be bothered by the battle raging across the water. They hardly looked up from their games as the sky lit up with the fiery destruction being hurled at their countrymen. Approaching the doors to the cabin, James noticed two guards, standing at attention on either side of the entrance. From what James knew about him, the Governor was never one to shy from the pageantry of his position.

Though his brother was well acquainted with the man, James had never actually met the Governor face to face. He’d seen him from a distance back in Charles Town, but only on a handful of occasions. It was just never important to him to try and get to know the man the way that William had. William toyed in those high class social circles, but not James. He’d never felt very comfortable among the noble class. The ceremony and glamour that was required socially seemed so contrived and pointless in his opinion, that it turned his stomach to be around them for very long. He chose instead to take to the sea. He’d found that the seafarers were more his type of people. He could appreciate the honesty and loyalty that men shared with each other out on the open waters. There was little room for egos and social classes, when everyday on the ocean was a life and death struggle. The men were constantly relying on each other for their very survival. James found that he’d much rather sit in a tavern, when he wasn’t at sea, with his men than to be entertained by rich people that he knew deep down didn’t give a shit about him or his crewmen. Besides, merchant sea captains didn’t customarily get invited to hold company with the noble class. They usually just sent their instructions through messengers – primarily in James’ experience – the tax collectors. That was what made James uncomfortable with the present request. What could the Governor of the Carolina Colony possibly want with him now?

The cabin doors opened as James and the escort arrived, and a heavyset man in a fine yellow suit and powdered wig emerged from the cabin. He was followed out by two natives that were most likely from the Yamasee tribe – the tribe that was assisting the colonist with the raid. The November air was cool, even for Florida, but the Indians had stripped their normal winter clothing, usually consisting of leather pants and pelt shirts, for a simple leather loin cloth that barely covered their genitals - the rest of their body was covered in battle paint.

The three men passed James and his escort, without giving either of them a second glance and disappeared through a hatchway that led below deck. James stopped at the door and took a final glance at the Emmeline, and then at the Spanish frigates anchored near the fort. He hoped to God that nothing happened in his absence that would require someone to make command decisions. Poor Edward must be a nervous wreck with all that responsibility. At least for a few more minutes - until the dinghies were loaded, Henry would be on the ship. Maybe, whatever this business with the Governor was wouldn’t take very long, and he could hurry back. The escort stepped through the doorway and into the dimly lantern lit cabin. He announced James’ presence to the occupants of the room as it had never been announced by anyone, as far as James could remember. The man sang the words that he spoke, like it was a sonnet. It made James smile at the absurdity. The escort was still bent at the waist, presenting James to the Governor, when the old sea captain entered the room.

The clothes that James was wearing had never looked as ragged as they did in the presence of the Governor. His overcoat that had once been a crisp black - now had a sun bleached reddish tint and was torn at the seam behind one shoulder. His pants were also worn thin and his shoes were badly scuffed - splitting at the sole. James felt like an orphaned child in the splendor and opulence that filled the ship’s cabin. The room was draped in tapestries and there were fine trimmings in every corner. Lavish bowls on silver serving trays in one direction, and brass statutes atop an elegant chess board in the other. The furniture was more lavish than James had ever seen up close, and every piece was certainly more elegant than he’d ever transported in the hold of the Emmeline. The cabin was also ten degrees hotter than it was outside, and James began to sweat. Ironically, despite the heat, the Governor was wearing a full red suit trimmed in what appeared to be real gold. His periwig was as white as snow. He sat behind a large desk and was flanked by two clerks who were dressed equally as gaudy. James felt uncomfortable being in the company of such luxury and stood before the Governor’s desk with his weathered hat clutched nervously in front of him in both hands.

The Governor didn’t immediately take notice of James, or even acknowledge his presence – even after the singing introduction - and continued to read a document that he had before him on the desk. Finishing the document he picked up a quill, dipped it in an ink bowl and signed it. Finally, he rolled the paper tightly and handed it to one of his aides who placed it into a leather satchel that was draped over his shoulder.

The Governor was overweight and had droopy doglike jowls that wobbled and shook as he spoke. James would have found it to be humorous if he hadn’t been so nervous, but all that he could seem to do was stand there and sweat in the humid air of the cabin. Captain Beard, I have a matter of great importance that I must bestow upon you and your crew.

What service might I provide to you, Your Excellency?

As you know, The Governor continued, standing to reveal a fat belly that was being restrained by a fine silk shirt. He walked to the window that dominated the back of the room and looked out over the dark ocean. With his back turned he continued, We have landed our troops in the village, but the fortress walls have proved to be more sufficient than our cannon. We have reached a stalemate. The Spanish will not come out of the fort and we cannot get in. We are dispatching orders to pull the army back and out of range of those blasted cannon, but we are not going to withdraw completely. He turned and faced James. Now that he was standing and closer to the lantern, James could see him better. The Governor looked tired. He was not a big man in stature like James was, but he must have easily had fifty pounds on the merchant captain. James heard the shape referred to as portly before and that word suited the Governor well. Captain, Moore said, I have come of the information that the war ship HMS Royal Sovereign, from her majesty’s royal navy is currently at Port Royal, he held out his hand to the aide with the leather satchel and the man handed it to the Governor. Your Queen needs for you and your crew to travel without haste to Port Royal and deliver the message in this satchel to the captain of the Royal Sovereign.

The Governor stepped forward and handed James the bag, and then he returned to his desk. James stood where he was until the Governor looked up from his work and said, That will be all, Captain. Time is of the essence.

James said, But sir, there is a matter of provisions for me and my crew. I have expended what remained of our food and fresh water on the troops that I transported here.

The Governor considered what James said, and then he motioned for an aid to step forward. Provide Captain Beard enough provisions to get him and his crew to Jamaica. Once there, he can use his own resources to acquire what he will need to return and will be reimbursed upon arrival with the Royal Sovereign. The Governor regarded James once again, apparently trying to read the sea captains attitude, Is this satisfactory?

Aye, sir, James said. We’ll be shoving off immediately.

Dismissed, the Governor said, with a shooing motion of his hand.

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T he Emmeline plowed ahead through the placid, crystal Caribbean water sending tendrils of white froth up into the cool November air - the larger waves splashed across the deck of the Brigantine bathing it and the feet of the crewmen in salty warmth. The sails were tight in the rigging with a sturdy tailwind blew the ship at a swift ten knots. They’d gotten underway as soon as James returned from his meeting with the Governor. Each and every sailor on board had been more than happy to put distance between themselves and the guns of the Spanish fort. Yet none of them were more relieved than young Edward. He’d never felt more uncomfortable in his life as when he was left in charge of the Emmeline during the raid.

Edward now lay below the main deck of the ship in his hammock and was gently rocking with the motion of the craft as it drove on toward Port Royal. Before coming down below to rest, he’d checked his father’s charts to make sure that they were still on course and by his own calculations, he guessed that they were very close to their destination. He estimated that before long they would begin to see the seagulls and pelicans, a dead giveaway to the presence of nearby land. It was always a welcome sight to a sailor to see the wildlife as they neared the shore. He never had gotten used to the bone chilling, lifeless isolation that was the deep, open ocean. Earlier, he’d decided to take a rest while he could. It was one of the rare times that he could find the time for one and once they reached port, the entire crew would be worked hard. Loading and unloading the hold of whatever goods that they were carrying was most tiring thing that they did. Goods were always shipped in bulk. The more of it – the more work to load it into the hold. The Captain always accepted the largest load he could pack into the belly of the Emmeline – ‘every shilling counts’ is what he would say. Captain Beard would have goods strapped to the deck if he couldn’t fit it into the hold. More goods…more money, he would say. I don’t get paid to haul you lazy scoundrels…I get paid to haul goods. Edward smiled thinking, yeah, but that’s coming from the one who collects most of the shillings and not the one who has to load and unload the hold. It was typically a relief for the crew, once the ship got underway after taking on a lot of supplies. Unless there was a storm or rough seas, the men could finally rest their backs and try to relax a little until they got to the next port.

Edward didn’t really care how many shillings came and went from the Emmeline and couldn’t remember ever even being paid fairly for his service. His father still supported him for the most part, but what the Captain provided wasn’t everything that he wanted. Edward would like to have money for other things as well – especially while they were in port. He had a few coins that he’d won in a card game against some of the other men on the crew, but that was it. When they were anchored in towns like Philadelphia, New York, and Kiquotan, the other crewmembers went to the taverns and the houses of entertainment, but Edward was usually left with no choice but to stay with the ship. He was nearly broke and even if his pockets were overflowing, his father required it.

The Captain didn’t generally ramble with the crew either, and if he was gone away from the ship - it wasn’t for very long at a time. James was a tireless worker and when the Captain was aboard - even in port - he never really rested. He was always plotting courses, or going over his charts, or making small repairs to the Emmeline. So while everyone else was out having fun, Edward was stuck on the ship with his father and forced to assist with the chores. It was a miserably boring life, but Edward knew that he was learning a lot. His father taught him about all of the things related to sailing and being on a ship, and one day Edward would most likely inherit the business that his father was now building. At least he hoped that he would.

Life at sea had its ups and downs. It was only rare times when things got really rough – bad storms, food and water rations, or extreme fatigue after loading a big haul. When those tough times came, Edward passed the stretch, thinking of his mother. He missed her to the point that he felt hollow inside at times. He felt like he’d barely gotten to know her, yet felt like she had been the most important thing in his young life, and she was gone forever. He had a hard time getting his head wrapped around the finality of that. Only five years old when she died, and unable to recall very much about her, he tried to imagine who she might have been and how she might have acted in certain situations. He assumed that she must have been a lot like Susannah. Father always said that Susannah looked and acted just like her mother, and Edward supposed that their demeanors were a lot alike too. When he imagined his mother, Susannah always came to mind.

His sister was a good kid with a kind heart. He and Susannah had grown close over the past couple of years and even more so since their father had remarried.

Edward was seven when James married Elizabeth, and the new wife was only eighteen herself. In Edward’s eyes – Elizabeth was not a replacement for his mother and therefore not going to tell him what to do. She’d tried, and he’d been defiant and sometimes downright rude towards her over it. The two of them didn’t get along very well at all. Edward being twelve now and a little more mature in his thoughts, realized that she was thrust into being the mother of a family at a very young age. She’d been asked to attend to a seven year old boy and a two year old little girl that she’d hardly known, while their father was away at sea, and for long periods of time. All of this new responsibility came at a point in her own life when she was not very far removed from her own childhood.

Edward regretted lashing out at Elizabeth, the way he’d done at times. He supposed that it was part of his grieving over the loss of his mother. That being said, Edward had no intention of ever living under the same roof with Elizabeth again and although he missed his little sister terribly, he loved being with his father on the open water and wouldn’t trade what he was doing now for anything. Edward enjoyed the freedom and liberties that was only offered while on a ship and away from the rest of civilization. He’d heard his father speak of the same things over the past couple of years. James would say things like, ‘there were always two legged snakes and scoundrels trying to separate a man from his coin on dry land’ and at times he’d offer more direct advice to Edward like ‘all forms of the Government is an organization built by crooks with lies used as the tools of the trade.’ James also often voiced his opinion willingly of the unfairness of trade laws - especially for the Scottish. The Scots were not treated justly by the crown and that mistreatment followed the Scots to the colonies. English merchants were not willing, and not forced by law, to pay fair prices to merchants of Scottish decent. It took twice the work for James to earn what the English merchants were earning for the same service.

Working on the Emmeline’s repairs with his father while the crew was in port, offered plenty of time for James to voice his political views to Edward. Sometimes, when James was deep into the bottle, he would pour his political views on even heavier than normal. Not usually being one to have a natural gift of gab, James expressed his political views more and more freely, the wetter that his tongue became. He would talk of the way that his Scottish people had been treated by the English crown throughout history. It infuriated Edward to hear the stories of how his relatives had been imprisoned and even murdered in attempts to gain their independence from the English. Edward wouldn’t have had the opportunity to learn these things from his father, had he still been in Charles Town under Elizabeth’s care. He wasn’t sure at the time if that was good or bad, but he did enjoy the time with his father.

Lately though, his father had been singing a new song when it came to the crown. Queen Anne brought hope to the Scottish people - hope that things were going to be different for their countrymen moving forward. She’d made agreements with the Scottish nobles. Agreements that were favorable to the Scots for a change. It helped that she was a Scot herself. Edward couldn’t ever remember seeing his father more optimistic about change coming from the English throne as he’d been over the past few months. Edward assumed that it was why James had been so eager to volunteer his services to the expedition that Governor Moore was launching into Florida. He wanted to do his part to support his queen.

Edward decided that he wasn’t going to get any sleep. He threw his legs over the edge of the hammock and jumped to the floor. The younger crewmembers like he and William Howard had to sleep in hammocks that were higher to the ceiling to allow more room on the bottom for the elder seamen. All of the bunks for all eleven of the crew were condensed to the small area on the second deck at the bow of the ship. This arrangement allowed more room to store goods for transport. James slept a little more comfortably in the Captain’s quarters in the rear of the ship. Right now, the cargo holds were empty so there was nothing between Edward and the stairs that led to the main deck but a couple of other hammocks, two footlockers and open cargo space with some loose ballast stone on the floor. He was halfway across the space when he heard the lookout yell from above, Land ho’ Captain.

Edward rushed up the stairs to catch his first glimpse of Port Royal.

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T he earthquake of 1692 destroyed two thirds of the original town. The tale of the destruction that took place in the once great city was a thing of lore that Edward had heard spoken of around campfires, in taverns and on docks up and down the colonial seaboard and on the decks of ships for as long as he could remember. Some people, like his stepmother Elizabeth for one , said that Port Royal had been destroyed by God himself because of the sin and debauchery that was taking place within its borders. She said that it was the Sodom of the new world, and that people everywhere should take notice of the punishment bestowed upon Port Royal lest it happen again - and to them the next time. Edward had heard it told that most of the city just slid into the ocean - swallowed up in a matter of seconds as the earth shook and the giant waves crashed ashore.

As the Emmeline got near the harbor Edward could see the tops of buildings, one of them a church tower, rising right out of the blue water. The cross affixed to the steeple was still intact, as if it were only a marker in a watery graveyard. Looking directly beneath the ship, Edward could see the remains of other, smaller buildings that had been completely submerged in the crystal clear water. Until now, Edward had always assumed that the stories he’d heard about the devastation were like most other stories that were passed along between sailors - more myth than truth, but what he was seeing with his own eyes was horrifying. He could only imagine what it must have been like when the quake happened.

Just past the sunken city, there were a multitude of ships anchored in the harbor. Edward had been to Philadelphia, New York, and Kiquotan on multiple occasions in the past year and a half, but he’d never seen a port bustling with such activity as Port Royal was right now. There were ships of all sizes, resting at anchor and scattered so heavily throughout the harbor that Captain Beard had to weave his way through many of them to get closer to the dock and the shoreline.

As James steered the Emmeline past one of the anchored ships, a tall schooner with worn sails and battered railings. Edward was close enough to see the men aboard, scrubbing the deck while others were making repairs to sails. As they continued past the ship, Edward saw a nude man standing on the railing and pissing over the side of the ship as he replenished the spent liquid by chugging a bottle of wine. A few other men, all as naked as the first, walked the deck of the ship behind the human fountain. A line strung from the mast to the railing held their clothing, as the laundry dried in the hot Caribbean sun - apparently after being washed.

Further up on the water’s edge was another schooner that was careened on its side. The ship’s crew scraped the barnacles from the bottom of the vessel with knives and axes. Down the beach – another one. It was quite the impromptu shipyard and from the looks of things this was a bustling hub of ongoing ship repairs and an assembly of sailors in a curious, combined state of relaxation, drunkenness and catching up on chores.

The Emmeline dropped anchor near a long, wooden dock that jutted out into the water several hundred feet. The dock was lined with crates and goods that were coming and going from the town to the ships in the harbor. Edward was surprised at the amount of activity. There were people everywhere. In a very short amount of time the Emmeline was approached by the harbormaster who was traveling from ship to ship in a small rowboat. The Harbormaster wanted to know what cargo the Emmeline was carrying. James stepped to the railing and addressed the small, thin man who was wearing tan knickers and a brown sea captains hat without a shirt. The man’s skin was tanned a golden bronze and Edward could see several Negroes working about the dock that were not much darker than the man in the boat.

We transport no cargo at the moment, James said, "We are on business at the direction of the Governor of Carolina,