Pursuit of the Raven (eBook)

Chapter One

That Cursed Black Banner

HMS ESSEX, A BRITISH WARSHIP, swayed and rocked along slowly through the swells of the northeastern Atlantic in late March 1803. It had been enshrouded in a blanket of fog and an easy wind for over six hours. With the approach of nightfall, the setting grew more dismal.

A lookout shouted from atop the rigging. “Ahoy below! Something off our port quarter!”

All eyes turned to that direction, but nothing could be determined.

First Officer, Lieutenant Richard Welch, called out to the seaman. “Do you still see it?” Richard, twenty-six, had held this post for the past five years. He had joined the navy at fourteen as an ensign.

“Nay, sir! Nothing now!” the lookout’s voice rang out over the hushed waters. The creaking and groaning of the ship, and the splash of its wake could be heard clearly rocking back and forth in the swells.

Tensions mounted as moments passed. For more than one reason, such a sighting brought heightened apprehensions. Much talk and gossip among many of the superstitious seamen, of a mysterious ghost ship, had spread fear among the crew.

“Dark shape off our starboard bow!” the lookout shouted.

“Can you make it out, man?” Richard called back.

“Not yet, but it comes closer!”

All the crew on deck saw the dark shape draw nearer. The silhouette continued to approach, passing within fifty feet of their ship. It resembled only a dark ominous form because of the fog and oncoming darkness.

“Look!” shouted one of the seamen. “She flies that cursed black banner below her flag!”

Murmurs spread about the deck among the crew. The men exchanged shocked glances.

Captain Downey’s patience had worn thin. He shouted to the boson’s mate. “Higgins, pipe the men to battle stations!” His voice carried an unmistakable harshness.

Higgins was an Irishman in his late twenties. “Er’ man to his station,” he called out. “Make haste, make haste.” The boson’s whistle and drummer’s cadence ensued.

Men ran to open the ports for the cannon. Many scurried into the rigging to adjust the sails if ordered. Time crawled along as anticipation grew for what might happen next.

When the obscured shape had only just passed them, it turned hard to starboard to pass their stern. This made them vulnerable to the starboard cannons of the strange ship.

Captain Downey called to the helmsman with urgency in his voice. “Hard to port, Collins! Higgins, set your braces.” The turn took them out of the path of the other ship’s guns. Downey called out to the crew. “There will be no more of such foolishness aboard this ship! Number One, we will open fire if they pass us again. I shall not allow these games to endanger my ship.” His reason for hesitation was the Treaty of Amiens, which had been enacted in 1802. This had brought a halt to the conflict between Great Britain and France.

Within seconds, the ominous ship sailed out of their sight into the fog as if it had never been there.

Richard stood on the quarterdeck as his mind drifted back to two days ago when all of this had begun. He had ridden up to the dock at Portsmouth. William, the young man in his employ, sat behind the saddle and slid down first. He would deliver the horse home and then return when summoned.

Richard stood at six feet, and two hundred pounds with a solid frame. His hair, dark and almost with a sheen, was pulled back in a neat bob as was usual for officers.

Two seamen waited in a dinghy to carry him to the Essex. They saluted and bid him good morning.

The seamen were quiet on the trip out to the ship, which Richard thought unusual. Crew and officer relations were ordinarily cordial aboard the Essex. Although they both faced him, neither would meet his gaze.

When they reached the ship, the boson’s mate, Higgins, greeted Richard with a salute as he topped the rail. “Morning, sir.” He also stood at six feet but carried more weight than Richard.

As with any war ship, the officers depended heavily on the boson’s mate, whose function was to work between the officers and the ordinary seamen. Over the years, Higgins had proven to be quite reliable.

“Morning, Higgins. Is the captain aboard yet?”

“Nay, sir. The skiff will return to dock and wait. Mr. Hanson has the watch and is on the quarterdeck,” Higgins said, referring to the second officer.

Lieutenant Jonas Hanson, now eighteen, had served for four years as an ensign before recently being promoted. He was a quiet young man, slow to express his opinions, and Richard felt a need to help instill more confidence in him.

Richard nodded toward Mr. Hanson. “He is a bit young for a second officer, is he not? But I think he seems capable.”

“Aye, he is that sir, but he has a good head, he does.”

“How many new men, Higgins?”

“We have twelve new men, sir. Some of ‘em young, too. We will be short our third officer, besides. He was down for two days with pneumonia. Captain had him taken ashore yesterday.”

Richard observed the new men standing as a group on the main deck. “Take them all down to the gun master since we are not to sail until later today. They will not be called upon to work them, but they have need of knowing of all our cannon. After that, instruct them with the rigging and sails. Make certain they are busy when the captain comes on board. Have all our stores been replenished?”

“Aye, they have, sir.”

Higgins called to one of the seamen who coiled rope nearby. “Fetch the lieutenant’s bag to the officers’ billet.”

Several of the regular crewmen were unusually quiet, and Richard noticed them exchanging puzzled glances.

He lowered his voice. “Higgins, what are the men about? Something troubles them, perhaps?”

“Rumors, sir. Disturbing rumors, at that. I thought I would present them to you, and the captain when he is aboard.”

“Very well. Tend to the new men for now.”

Captain Downey came aboard at noon. He proceeded to the quarterdeck to join Richard and Mr. Hanson.

Downey was near fifty years old and had been at sea for most of his life. His features cast a weathered appearance. His face carried a wind burned look of years in the sun on the ocean. His prominent nose and dark shaded gray hair gave him an ominous look. He was all about the ship’s affairs, and serious most of the time when aboard ship. He normally resided on the ship since the passing of his wife.

“A good day to you, gentlemen. How was your time ashore, Number One?”

Richard, who had been surveying the channel waters to the south with a telescope, turned and saluted. “Quite restful, and a good day to you, sir,” he replied. He quickly returned his attention to the water.

“Do you expect a French or Spanish armada to come over the horizon, Number One? And do I sense an unusually happy air about you today?”

Richard said with a smile, “No armada that I can see, Captain. I can only say that my leisure time was quite restful.”

Captain Downey laughed. “I certainly hope you did not spend your time at the inn, Mr. Welch.” This was a rare episode of levity for Downey aboard ship.

“Captain, you know that I have never been a drinker, sir.” Richard lowered the glass and turned with a frown. “Captain, Higgins feels need for a private conference before we sail.”

Captain Downey narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his brow as he considered this bit of news. It struck him as unusual in the sense that it should be a closed meeting. “Do you think this is warranted, Number one?”

“Aye, sir. Higgins feels we may have a situation of sorts.”

“Very well. Perhaps we should adjourn to my cabin. Bring Higgins along. Mr. Hanson, continue with the watch. You shall see more rest as soon as we sail. I appreciate that you have carried the watch almost the entire day.”

Hanson nodded and saluted. “Thank you, sir.”

Richard saluted. “Aye, sir. We shall be along straight away.”

Richard and Higgins entered Captain Downey’s cabin. The room was cramped in comparison to most of the masters’ cabins Richard was familiar with. This was because the Essex was a compact, fast vessel with a trim-built structure. Captain Downey had stated that it was sufficient for his needs since he considered himself a man of simple tastes.

Double six-pane windows were fitted into the aft wall. A common seaman’s bunk occupied one side. A heavy roughened wood table was anchored to the floor in the center of the room. Around it sat four chairs. A small chart table sat at one side. A rack for rolled charts hung on the wall above it.

A portrait of the captain’s late wife hung on an adjacent wall, and he turned to gaze at it. Richard estimated her to have been in her thirties at the time it was painted. “Gentlemen, that lady was the greatest treasure of my life. I shall never love another as I have her.” The captain sighed as he sat down at his chart table. “Now, Higgins, say your piece.”

Higgins stood erect with his hands clasped behind him. “Begging your pardon, sir, but the men was talking. Gossip some of them has heard ashore.”

“What sort of gossip?”

“A curse of a French ship. They call it Ombre Du...