Free Unknown by Unknown

I’m already preparing the gig, sir.”
    ***
    Antigua was the Royal Navy’s headquarters and main base in the West Indies. As Gabe strode across the quarterdeck of the schooner LeCroix, he thought of his father. He had spent many an evening listening as the admiral had told stories and shared his memories of Antigua and the West Indies with Dagan and him. Hopefully, he’d have some to share when this commission was over.
    The West Indies was a chain of islands on the eastern side of the Caribbean. These islands were full of natural harbors and inlets, making for the perfect lair of pirates and privateers. Therefore, opportunities for someone such as he should be abundant. Since Witz’s death, Gabe had been made acting fourth lieutenant. If luck held, he’d make lieutenant before too long. It was not unthinkable that once he made lieutenant he might even be given command of some little prize—like this schooner.
    Thinking of “this little prize” made him think of Dagan. How much loot did he confiscate before letting anyone know it had been found? Better yet, where did he hide it? “For use in case of a cloudy day,” was all Dagan said, as he took a small chest and placed it aside before letting anyone know of their “find.” He had handed Gabe a large red ruby that had to be ten carats or more. “For luck,” Dagan had said. Gabe didn’t like keeping this from Anthony, but he didn’t want to say anything to hurt Dagan either.
    Gabe fondled the gem in his coat pocket, and thought of the articles of war. He felt a chill run through him. “For luck,” Dagan had said. Well, he damn well hoped good luck was all that ever came of it.
    Dagan approached and said, “Drakkar’s signaling.”
    Gabe responded without even thinking, “Look alive men. The Admiral’s eyes are upon us. We don’t want him to liking us to a bunch of bum boatsmen.”
    The winds had backed to the southeast. Drakkar was leaving a white wake in the blue sea. Even under reduced sail, she appeared a force with which to be reckoned. She glided into harbour, having completed the salute. The anchor had scarcely been loosened when the admiral’s signal “repair on board” had been hoisted. Anthony was proud of how well Bart had the gig’s crew turned out. Of course, he’d expected no different. Even Mr. Davy was turned out smart as a “bullock” on parade day. He had been brought along to carry dispatches. “Bloody worthless little shit ‘iffen you ask,” Bart had said. Anthony knew his comments were a ruse. Bart had taken to the young gentleman and had spent hours “educating” the lad. Even now he was explaining to Davy the age-old tradition of “the captain is last into the boat but first out.” Davy was listening to Bart, but couldn’t help but gawk at the flagship. He had thought Drakkar big, but the flagship was gigantic to the young mid.
    Robert Harvey was flag captain of HMS Namur. She was small for a second rate—only ninety guns. However, she could still provide deadly force. Harvey met Anthony as he came on board shaking his hand even before honors had been completed. After pleasantries had been exchanged, the two talked captain to captain. “Sir Lawrence Finylson, rear admiral of the blue is our lord and master. He has tried very hard to deal with this pestilence of pirates and privateers. However, until you arrived, he had only one frigate—a small 28.
    It’s a wonder she still floats, her hull is so wormy. We’ve lost a couple of brigs, and a hurricane damaged our one sloop so badly she will have to be completely overhauled. There’s little enough left to justify our admiral’s presence. He’s tried with what little resources we have, but Sir Lawrence is ill and grows tired. Now that you’re here, I expect he’ll haul down his flag so he can go back to England and enjoy what little time he has left.”
    When Anthony was ushered into the admiral’s stateroom by the flag lieutenant, he was shocked. The man