Warship poseidon, p.21
Warship Poseidon, page 21
part #1 of Jonathan Moore Series
“Ah, this seems familiar,” lied Sean. “It is just like the map Captain Walker has. Now, where is that duck?”
Sean looked closely at the map and easily found a place that showed many smaller islands, bunched together. In the middle of the bunch, there was a slightly larger one, labeled “Baptise Cay.” Surrounding it were over a dozen tiny islands, all generally the same shape and size. This would suit Sean well.
“Wait a moment!” he said. “I think…yes…yes…this is it! This one here!” He pointed to a spot on the map that would bring the Danielle past the group of islands.
Men gathered around, and Marcel had to push them aside so he could see. Then Pierre pushed Marcel aside, so he could see as well.
“You mean, it eez buried on Baptise Cay?” Pierre asked.
“Baptise Cay!” the crew called out happily.
“But are you certain? It doesn’t even look like a duck!” asked Marcel.
“Yes, it does!” said Sean, defending himself. “See? Here is the bill, and here is the neck and chest!”
“No, but if you are sure,” said Pierre excitedly, “zen we will tell zee Captain.”
“I am sure. How far away is it?” asked Sean.
Pierre studied the map for a moment. “It eez only twelve leagues away! We can be zere before zee sun sets!”
Sean believed that would be perfect. The captain would certainly go ashore right away, and once he was off the ship, Sean would go for a little swim.
As the sun started to set that evening, the Danielle dropped anchor just a few hundred yards off Baptise Cay. It had been difficult to maneuver the injured Danielle around the many small islands surrounding Baptise, and more than once, the crew believed they would run aground on a reef or sand bar and become stuck in the shallow water—where they’d be a sitting duck if the Poseidon should appear.
It would be a short row ashore. Captain Champagne readied a small boat and chose six men to accompany him. They had shovels and water and food to last a few days, as they did not know exactly where the treasure was buried.
“Marcel! Pierre!” he yelled. “Move zee Dani out into deeper water after we have gone ashore. Hide behind one of zee larger islands we passed and keep an eye out for zee Poseidon. Repair zee rudder while you are hiding, but be quick about it!”
“Oui, Capitaine,” they said, and they lowered the boat, Champagne, and his small band over the side.
“Come back if you can every day at noon,” the captain said. “If we find zee treasure, we will row out to meet you! And Sean?”
“Yes?” he replied, smiling.
“If we do not find zee treasure, I will come back to kill you, yes?”
“Then you’d better find it,” Sean said. “My mum would be most put out if you had to kill me, she loves me so.”
That set the crew howling with laughter once again. Sean watched as the captain and his band rowed toward the island, which Sean had to admit looked nothing like a duck or even a bird, for that matter. But he was so insistent about its resemblance to waterfowl, even Champagne believed him.
Sean and the crew watched as the party went ashore, and in a few minutes, they had reached a small sandy beach, climbed out of the boat, and waved back to the Danielle. Immediately, Marcel, Pierre, and the rest of the crew began hauling up the anchor and letting out sail. The helmsman began cussing and swearing as he tried to maneuver the crippled Danielle into deeper water before it became too dark. And as they busied themselves, Sean went below.
In a storage hold, he found a small bladder—a bag made of sheepskin—and filled it with a couple of days’ supply of fresh water from the nearby barrels. He also grabbed a few pieces of salted fish, some fish line, and a hook. He could not know how long he might be stranded on whatever island he chose, and he figured he may need to fish to stay alive.
The evening sky was turning deep purple above the Danielle as Sean walked the deck, the ship slowly sailing into deeper water. Stewie the cat followed behind, content to tag along quietly. There were already a few stars visible, and the moon was slowly rising to the port side of the ship—at first just a hint of white light, then slowly growing to become a full dish, resting like a sail on the horizon.
They had left Champagne over two hours ago, but the ship’s loopy path had slowed their progress, and the darkness had all the crew worried about running aground and crashing into reefs or small islands. In addition to these concerns, the wind was all but absent, so with just a few of the smaller sails let out, the Danielle was hardly moving at all. Sean could hear only a trickle of water passing alongside, like the sound of a small country brook, bubbling and slightly splashing.
The sound made him recall his days as a younger boy, running barefoot through the fields of Ireland with his brothers and sisters. He had lived on a small farm, and he remembered a brook that ran through it, filled with fingerling trout. He and his siblings would swim and fish in the brook when they weren’t working on the farm, and Sean was the best swimmer of them all. At times, he could even out-swim his father, who was a big strapping man, strong and athletic. Those were wonderful days, and Sean missed them so much. However, one spring, the farm failed after a particularly cold winter. The crops simply began to go bad—moldy—and small potatoes and beets were all they could get. No matter how hard they tried, they could barely grow enough to eat. Some of Sean’s uncles, aunts, and cousins left for the new world—America—to see if life might be better there. But Sean’s father was more inclined to go to the cities, searching for work, and London, being the largest, was his choice. They moved to a tiny run-down room on the top of a coal shop, where his father found work from time to time shoveling coal and delivering it to various houses, shops, and businesses. At night, Sean would sleep next to a small window in the attic, crowded with his family, and gaze out to see the moon shining over the rooftops of London.
He looked out to the same moon tonight, almost full, sitting like a ball floating on the night sea. As the Danielle sailed slowly, Sean noticed that the now-dark ocean behind the ship was glowing in a faint green color, and there were bright sparkles in the wake—thousands upon thousands of little lights. He stared in wonder at the glittering waves and smiled as he picked up the cat.
“What an amazing trip this has been,” he whispered to Stewie.
He turned to the port side as the islands became silhouetted by the moon, and Sean could make out their features and shapes. On some, he could see the dark outlines of palm trees and little hills. On others he could make out small trees against the white of the moon. He saw one island silhouetted against the moon that, to his utter surprise and amazement, looked exactly like a duck floating on the water.
“Well, I’ll be!” he muttered to himself.
As he continued watching the moon and the islands, he saw a particular island that did not appear quite right. It was close, only a few hundred yards off the port side, and had two rather large hills on each corner with a flat plain between them. The plain had upon it a low hill in the center. There were no large trees anywhere, except on the small hill. Sean believed there was something wrong with the large trees; in fact, the harder he looked, he could see that there were only three trees, and they were very tall, and had only a few branches that stuck out equally to the right and the left. They actually were moving in the breeze, but there was no wind. And then he noticed that the hill itself seemed to be moving.
“Oh, my!” he gasped as he realized what he saw.
Sean could now see that what he thought were trees were a ship’s masts. The branches were the yards, and they were moving from side to side in the waves, not the breeze. Without sails, they resembled bare trees. The small hill was not a hill at all. It was actually the hull of the great ship Poseidon.
Sean’s heart raced. The crew of the Poseidon had not forgotten him. His friends had come through the storm in one piece! So excited and happy, Sean almost began to cry. “I can’t spoil my chances now,” he whispered to Stewie. “I need to think—and think quickly!”
He decided that he would jump off the Danielle immediately.
First, he checked that the supplies he had gathered were tightly lashed to his belt loop. Then he glanced about to each side and saw only a handful of crewmen working on ropes in the center of the deck. Could they see him?
He could not just jump over the side, as that would make a loud splashing noise, and someone would almost certainly look into the water to see where it came from. There had to be a way down into the water, a quiet way. Nervously, he walked quickly to the bow of the Danielle, searching, and he found the anchor chain. He could see that it was slightly drooping over the side and was actually only a few feet from the water passing leisurely below.
“Good-bye, Danielle,” he whispered. “It has been a pleasure. You are a fine ship, and it is a cryin’ shame that you are under the command of a bunch of roughneck lazy bodies who don’t know a thing about seamanship. Maybe someday someone will fix you and your guns and work you into proper shape! Stewie, I fear we must part ways now. I hope you get rid of these rats someday. Maybe I will see you again.”
And with that, he patted the cat gently on the head, set him on the rail, and slipped over the side. He easily climbed down the anchor cable and dropped silently into the warm Caribbean Sea.
The next morning, the sun rose in a yellow-orange splash of color reflecting off wispy clouds. The Danielle was now drifting in the breeze, having sailed all night to rest off the east coast of Isla Pasaje in deeper water. The crew had almost completed the task of fitting the newly crafted rudder, and within minutes she would be able to maneuver safely if the Poseidon appeared. They needed to get underway early to meet the captain at noon off Baptise Cay, as they had all agreed.
Sean had made his midnight swim to the two-hilled island, and as he crawled onto the beach, exhausted, he could see the Poseidon let out her sail, turn about, and slowly disappear, sailing due north.
Why did they come to this island, thought Sean, only to sail away? Now I am stuck! But maybe they will return. I had better search about, maybe find something to start a signal fire. At night, someone will see that!
Champagne and his band continued searching for the treasure all day and night—but on Baptise Cay, where in fact there was no treasure. Without a map it was just a guessing game, and with each hole dug and with each empty hole abandoned, Captain Champagne became more and more angry. After almost a full day of exploring caves, a favorite hiding spot for those desiring to safeguard their treasure, the Frenchmen spent the evening digging everywhere that could be a hiding place: the space between two trees, under a rock pile, and in the soft earth of a small grassy area. They checked every interesting nook and cranny they found along the many footpaths used by the wild pigs that seemed to be roaming all over Baptise Cay. Of course, they found nothing.
By morning, Champagne was so angry that he began to suspect that Sean was indeed lying and that he had better let Marcel have at him with those sharp knives of his, just to make sure he was telling the truth. He could continue searching and digging up Baptise Cay, but he would feel less annoyed if he knew that the treasure was here somewhere. He sat under a palm tree on a large rock, watching his men, who were sweating and puffing as they dug yet another hole on another beach. He was just about to order them to quit when he saw the Danielle approach.
“Le Danielle!” he cried. “Get zee boat ready! We leave at once!”
The men looked up from their hole and stopped digging. They quickly began gathering tools and supplies, and all ran back to the beach where they had hidden the longboat. It took only a few moments. Soon they were rowing out to their ship.
“Oh!” said Champagne, “I will cut zat little Irish pig-boy myself when we return, just for zee fun of it!”
As they neared the Danielle, Champagne began yelling to the ship, asking if they had finished repairs, and ordering someone to find Sean immediately. Marcel was at the rail, waving and yelling back. “Capitaine! We have finished zee rudder, and it eez in good working order. But Sean, well, he eez mizzing!”
“Mizzing? How could zat be? Zat little crab!” cursed Champagne. “He lied to us all along!”
“He eez Irish,” said Marcel, trying to soften the blow. “But I don’t zink he lied.”
“Why not?” asked Champagne.
“Because we have seen zee Poseidon, Captain! And she has definitely seen us, making chase as we came to retrieve you! If we were on zee wrong island, she would leave us alone and go about her own search. But she is pursuing.”
“Ah, that could be, yes!” said Champagne as he paused and thought for a moment. “If she had a map, zen…zen Walker would go straight to zee correct island and stay away from us at all costs! Where eez zee Poseidon now?”
“We lost her as zere are so many islands between us. She is using zem to hide!” answered Marcel. “I sink we are safe for now.”
“Are you sure?” Champagne asked, glancing about nervously.
However, before Marcel could speak, an answer came that left no doubt. The sound of three great BOOMS followed by the SWOOSH of shot racing through the air came loud and clear. All turned to see a ball strike the top of the mizzenmast, breaking a yard loose and sending it crashing toward the deck with a good portion of sail attached, ripping all the way down.
They gazed north, across the small island of Baptise Cay, between its tall palms and pointed hills. On the other side of the island, they caught a quick glimpse of HMS Poseidon sailing smartly, smoke still wafting from its guns.
“To your fighting stations!” yelled Champagne, as he hurriedly left the longboat and climbed aboard.
As the Poseidon and Danielle prepared for battle, Jonathan, Gorman, and the two marines searched the large island known to them as Isla Pasaje. The island had only a few very small trees and a large flat plain in the center surrounded by tall hills on each end. There were sandy beaches almost all the way around the south and west sides of the island; however, the north side where they had landed was mostly rocky, though they were able to navigate the boat to a small sandy area only a few feet wide. They rowed ashore and then hid the boat beneath some small brush, covering it as best they could with sand.
“I just don’t understand, Captain,” said Hudson, one of the two marines who came ashore. “This island doesn’t even resemble a skull, does it?”
“I think it does,” said Hicks.
“I don’t care what you think,” snapped Gorman, who was lost in the map. “This is Isla Pasaje! Skull Eye Island lies off the southern coast!”
The search had taken almost all of the day. The party had followed the map precisely, examining each clue, analyzing each situation. They were quite successful up to a certain point. Starting toward the western hillside, they found the clear brackish-water pool with the small waterfall that was drawn on the map. Next, they walked over the hill and down the other side to find a large boulder shaped like a birthday cake. It had no candles, Jonathan pointed out, but it was certainly round and looked as if it had layers. Then the map showed they were to take five hundred paces southeast through small trees, bushes, and bogs, to a clearing in the brush with beautiful green grass. Then the map instructed them to walk across a series of coral outcrops close to the water and find a beach shaped like a heart. And there, they would see the skull.
Gorman stared at the map and just shook his head in confusion.
“What is it, Captain?” Jonathan asked. “What does the map say to do next?”
Gorman threw the map down in disgust and let out a heavy sigh. “It says ‘Look toward the south in the yellow sun, and see the skull and the prize.’ And here we are, facing south and, as you can see,” he said pointing to the ocean, “standing on the heart-shaped beach, yet…there is no skull, just another series of small islands off shore!”
It was true. They had followed the map all day, and it had been precisely exact. They found their way easily, had seen every marker. They were sure they had made no mistakes. Nevertheless, as Jonathan and the marines looked south, all they could see was ocean and many tiny bare islands, some no more than several feet across and wide. There was no skull.
Their hearts sank. To come all this way and fail was just unbearable. And how would they tell the captain? After the sinking of the Phoenix and the Centaur, Captain Walker needed some good news—a success—but this would certainly disgrace him. Hicks said that this failure would probably result in him having his ship taken away. They all moaned in displeasure and sank to the ground.
15
The Dance of Death
Aboard the Poseidon, all hands were busy preparing for battle, feeling anxious and nervous, although ready to fight. Lookouts were posted on all corners of the ship as Watt steered due east on the north side of a string of islands.
Using his telescope, Harrison had thought he had seen something just on the other side of the island Watt had called Baptise Cay, and it briefly showed itself through the hills and trees. Yes, it was unmistakable—a large white sail, fluttering in the wind.
“Sail ho!” he yelled as he ran toward the captain. “Straight off the starboard side! Leeward of the cay!”
Captain Walker and Langley, watching from the quarterdeck, caught a glimpse of the Danielle to the south. It was standing still, facing east.
“Sir,” said Langley, now peering through his telescope, “I see a boat alongside and men with shovels climbing aboard. Champagne must be digging for the treasure on Baptise Cay.”
“So that is where Sean has led them,” said Walker. “Good. Let us make them believe they are on the correct island. Mister Langley, send a welcoming message from the stern deck guns at once.”
“Yes, sir!” Langley replied as he ran to the starboard rail. Mounted on the quarterdeck were six deck guns, three each on the port and starboard sides. Langley ran to the starboard guns and addressed the waiting gun crews.
“On my mark…” he said to the gun captains, as he waited for the ocean’s swell to tip the Poseidon into the perfect position. “Fire! Fire! Fire!” he called.
