laughing. The man in the stern of the boat, dressed better than the other two, immediately pulled the red-haired one down in a disapproving manner. That older man looked familiar to Wake, but as he was trying to place him in his mind Faber tugged his arm.
“Sir, I said Rork is trying to yell over to us, sir. Oh, here comes our boat.”
The St. James’ s boat was returning with only three men in her. Rork, still on the British schooner, was trying to yell something and was pointing to the boat alongside the French lugger. With all the noise from the Frenchmen, Wake could not make out what Rork was saying. Faber brought Wake’s attention back to the lugger.
“Sir, looks like they’re leavin’.”
The French vessel, her jibs starting to fill as she swung around, was hoisting the small boat aboard. Wake could see the older man from the escape boat standing on the lugger’s afterdeck with her officers, all of them looking right at Wake. Rork’s bellowing was continuing from the prize vessel, but Wake could only catch part of it. He could tell Rork was upset and was pointing to the departing lugger.
“ . . . onders! . . . onders!”
And then it came to him. He couldn’t believe it. Rork was yelling ‘Saunders’. Instantly he turned his glass on the lugger and focused on the men at the stern, still standing together laughing. He saw him and recognized him now: John Saunders, one of the most notorious blockade runners in Florida, Cuba, and the Bahamas.
Saunders had first come to Wake’s attention in ’63 off the coast of Sanibel Island on the west coast of Florida. He had deceived Wake then and made a close escape through a false story. Wake had last seen him in Havana the year before and had instigated the Spanish authorities to capture Saunders and destroy his shipping organization in Cuba. However, somehow Saunders had escaped the Havana dungeon and gotten out of Cuba, for Wake had later heard of him in the Abaco Islands of the Bahamas. That had been six months ago, and no later intelligence of his whereabouts was known. Until now.
From the demeanor of Saunders it was clear that he recognized Wake also. By his enthusiastic reception, it was also clear that Saunders was known to the French on this coast. Suddenly several events of the last few days became clear. The Spanish had recognized Saunders’ vessel too, but without the warmth of the French. Perhaps he had replaced his Havana depot with one in Mexico, guarded over by the French Navy. Who knew what they had stumbled upon? Wake leaned against the mast and kept the glass focused on the man who had evaded him in three, now four, countries. He still couldn’t believe it.
“Sir, Bosun Rork presents his respects and has a message for you, sir!”
White was alongside in their ship’s boat and calling up to the captain. Wake reluctantly lowered the glass and nodded at White as the lugger started to diminish in the distance, sailing downwind toward the other ship still approaching.
“Sir, Bosun Rork says to tell ya that there was a fella named Saunders, said you’d know the one, sir, who’s on that limey schooner when we’s boarded her. Said ta tell ya, sir, that the Saunders fella and two others, a negra an’ a limey fella, jumped inta a boat an’ rowed like hell over to the froggy navy ship. Did it afore we knew it, sir. Couldn’t stop ’em, sir. Bosun Rork looks powerful mad about it, sir. Said he knew the bastard too, an’ thought he was dead. Said he was a Reb runner ya got once down in Havany.”
Though he already knew all of this, Wake suddenly felt exhausted.
“Very well, White. Did the bosun say anything about the men you did manage to capture? And what about the ship? Any cargo?”
“Aye, sorry about that, sir. I was gonna get ta that part of it. Bosun Rork wants ya ta come see what’s aboard of her. Says there’s mun . . . munitions, I thinks it is, sir. Guns an’ the like. Said you’d be pleased on that!”
Wake looked around his ship. McDougall and the gun crew were still at quarters and ready to fight. Others in the crew, like Mason, were still armed with long guns. Each of them appeared confused at what was transpiring and were looking at Wake. He didn’t blame them. He wasn’t sure at all himself what was happening.
Feeling forty years older, he lowered himself down the side and into the boat in the rough seas. White’s crew rowed him over to where Rork stood waiting for him. The bosun helped him board the schooner. Rork looked as tired as Wake felt. His appearance reminded Wake that they were down to about two casks of water.
“Welcome, sir. Guess you know by now. That bastard John Saunders was aboard her an’ got away in the boat. Didn’t know in time to stop ’em, sir. By the time we saw ’em, they were up to that Frenchy lugger sir, an’ the lads surely would’ve hit her if we’d fired. Decided you’d not want that kind o’ war started, sir! Sorry as hell, sir.”
“All right, Rork. What did you find on her? White was saying something about guns.”
“Aye, guns there are, sir! We made the jackpot o’ the derby here, sir! They’re all laid out below in munitions crates, jus’ as pretty as you please. Limey scum here was takin’ ’em into Florida so’s the Rebs could kill some more o’ us. Arrogant limey pile o’ dung who says he’s the captain got quiet when we found them beauties, sir. He’s as silent as a whore in church now, sir!”
“Please tell about the men found aboard her.”
Rork told about the seven men left in the crew who were on deck when he captured the schooner. Four were British Bahamian citizens with their papers, two were probably Cuban, and one sounded like a rebel American. None resisted. The Cubans and American had no papers. Rork had not had time to search the vessel yet, what with all the confusion.
“Rork, is there any water aboard her?”
“No time ta see yet. We’ll look an’ see right now, sir.”
A search of the Wendy, for that was her real name, revealed that she had ten casks of water stowed in her hold, next to the guns. An excited howl went up from White when he found and counted the casks. Rork made him check each one for purity. They all seemed potable. Yelling the news over to the St. James produced cheers in reply. For the first time in several days Wake felt as if they could make it out of this predicament in good shape.
By this time the sun was starting to descend, but still two or three hours from its set. Even with the drifting from being hove to, the two ships were still several miles off the Mexican coast. Wake decided it was time to get off this coast and sail away before the French got any ideas regarding infringement of their sovereignty and returned. Wake called Rork and White to him at the stern of the prize and gave his orders.
“Rork, you are appointed the prize master. Keep five men with you to sail her. Now, first, get the prisoners over to the St. James. I want them shackled on the main deck. Next, get some water over there. We all stay on short rations. After that, I want you ready to sail. We need to leave before the French get ideas. Can you jury-rig that mains’l?”
“Captain, we’ll get her sailin’ straight away, quick as a rabbit from the hounds.”
“Very good. Oh, and search the cabins and every space for any intelligence immediately. I want everything accomplished by sunset. As soon as all that’s done, we set sail to the nor’east and Cabo San Antonio. Any questions?”
Neither petty officer raised any.
“Then let’s get things done here and get away from this damned coast and those Frenchies!”
Rork
