The Delirium Passage Read online

  “My congratulations, Master. I’ve not seen her. She’s been gone most of my time here, or I’ve been away. I hear she’s a pretty thing.”

  “Prettiest flower in the garden,” Neville said.

  “James,” Rawkins yelled, “Vast heaving. Give it a bit o’ slack. Excuse me Master, I must see to the dull bugger.”

  On twenty-third May, 1807, Elizabeth waited outside the entrance to the Point-a-Pitre harbor for the end of a nasty morning blow coming at her from the southeast. She bucked at her anchor with all sail furled. Her American flag snapped angrily at every gust. Given the uncomfortable motion of the ship, Neville knew the men were happier below decks with a tot of rum than they would have been up in the rigging. Everything annoyed Neville, knowing he was probably within a league of Marion, yet without a way to see her. The ship jerked roughly, the masts creaked, some loose line above rapped repeatedly on the mainmast, and some poorly tied thing thumped on the deck. He took another swig of rum. He had thought through what he imagined, but without knowing more about the situation ashore, he had nothing more to distract his thoughts. On a navy ship, he would have sent someone to fix every detail, but not here. The minutes dragged into hours, until a knock at his door startled him.

  “Who goes?” Neville called.

  “Rawkins, Master. May I?

  “Aye, come ahead. What is it?”

  “Wind’s dropping. It should be much calmer in a few hours.”

  “By when? Dark? I have felt the ship’s movement improve, yes. Do you know this harbor?”

  “No, Sir, I don’t.”

  “Does anyone of the crew?”

  “I’m sure not. We wait for dawn, then?”

  “We must, as much as I’d like to chance it.”

  Another annoying night of fitful sleep brought the Elizabeth a sparkling, clear sunrise over a sea free of whitecaps. Guadeloupe towered above them on both sides, showing pointed peaks and the green of trees. By the time the sun rose, Elizabeth’s sails were up and drawing. Seawater gurgled from beneath her keel as she ventured into the foreign harbor.

  “Well defended, I see,” Neville said to Rawkins.

  “Aye.” Rawkins glanced to where Neville pointed at a large stone fortress, but as a merchant seaman, didn’t seem to see much of interest. “This chart seems quite good,” he said. The anchorage is over there.”

  No sooner had the anchor splashed into the blue-green water than they saw a small vessel being rowed in their direction.

  “I always expect no less than a government reception in a navy port,” Neville said to Rawkins. “This must be it.”

  “You were correct, Master,” Rawkins said, a quarter hour later. The shore boat, with six rowers, four armed French marines, and a young navy lieutenant, shipped oars and thumped alongside. They observed none of the usual formalities of a British navy ship. One of Elizabeth’s men took the boat’s painter at the chains, and the lieutenant hopped deftly aboard.”

  “Who is the master?” he demanded in French.

  “I am, answered Neville, in English. “Do you speak English?”

  “Non, Monsieur.”

  “Well, then,” Neville said in French, “we must continue in French.”

  “State your business in Guadeloupe.”

  “We have come to convey two American women to Jamaica.”

  “Aaaahh,” Said the lieutenant, now showing a great grin. “You are the rum ship.”

  “Rum? How do you know of the rum?”

  “We have heard of this in the harbor. It is for the two young ladies. A good trade, I think. They are beautiful. But I am not told they will be leaving. We will unload tomorrow. Move your vessel; anchor closer to the pier.”

  “Not leaving? I do not intend to unload if the ladies are not leaving with me.”

  “I don’t know everything – only my orders. I was told of this only yesterday. We unload tomorrow, the day after you come in. Please move your ship.” He saluted – out of habit, Neville supposed – and turned to go.

  “No,” Neville shouted to his back. We will move the ship, but we will not unload tomorrow. We will not leave until after I have spoken with the ladies.”

  “They are at the Captain-General’s house. I cannot go to him and demand an audience for you.” The two glared at each together for a full minute, until the lieutenant may have recognized a predicament in facing a more senior figure, even if a foreigner. “I will ask my captain,” he said and hopped down into his launch.

  “I’ll have to work fast,” Neville said to Rawkins. I need information from shore about where the Speedwells are imprisoned and what other resources we have here to work with. Did you understand what they said?”

  “I’ve not much French, Master. Only the likes of ‘see-vu-play’ and ‘mare-see’.”

  “He told us to move the ship closer to the pier. They plan to unload the rum tomorrow. How, for all love, did they know we carried rum here, unless they asked for it.” Did Chester know when I was there? He certainly gave no objection to me taking it. – Ransom?

  “I told the lieutenant we will do no unloading until I have spoken with Marion and her friend.”

  “So, what now?”

  “Let’s move. I suspect the lieutenant will return with an invitation to visit. I doubt they will bring the ladies to the harbor.”

  By eleven in the morning, Elizabeth had been moved to a new location, anchored half a cable from a ship at a short pier. The ship, Fleur de Lorient, was under repair. Neville made an attempt to relax, but the hammering from the nearby ship vexed him terribly. He went to stare at it, knowing his action might be nonsense. The sounds passed easily across the water. Now and then they could distinguish a voice.

  “Mister Rawkins, come here, please. Listen with me for a moment.”

  “To all this? Why? Excuse me, Master. If you ask, I will do. What am I listening for.”

  “Every once in a while, I hear a voice. I don’t think it’s French.”

  They listened. A shout crossed the water. Neville and Rawkins looked at each other. “English, all right. Didn’t he say, ‘Send the pitch down’?” Neville asked.

  “Sounded like it to me. Accent of Manchester, too, I’d wager.”

  “Maybe I have found where the Speedwells work, at least…”

  “Aye. And look here at th’end of the pier; a wee boatie full o’ frogs comin’ at us.”

  “So it is. I suspect it’s either my invitation to supper or a threat to board us. No, I’ll go for the former. It appears the boat has a midshipman in charge.”

  The small rowing craft soon bumper against Elizabeth’s hull. The Midshipman in charge did not bother to disembark. He handed a note to Mr. Rawkins. “I’m to wait for a response,” said the young man.

  Rawkins carried to note to Neville, who said, “I heard. He’s to wait. Give me a minute to go below and pen a reply.”

  He was correct about an invitation to supper that very afternoon. On a small piece of plain paper, he found in the master’s desk, he wrote his acceptance, folded it in half, and returned it to Mr. Rawkins.

  “I’m requested to appear at half five, Mister Rawkins,” Neville said as the little French boat returned to the pier. “This whole greeting smells to me like dead fish, so I need you to prepare to leave on a moment’s notice, whether it is with or without the rum.”

  Neville had himself rowed to the pier in Elizabeth’s jolly boat at four in the afternoon. Nobody greeted him at the end of the pier, but he saw a marine with two horses where the pier met the shore. His walk along the pier took him directly past the Fleur de Lorient, under repair by the Speedwells. He heard hammering below, interspersed with English speech, but nobody occupied the deck except a single marine guard. The guard lounged on a sack of sails on the foredeck, watching any comings and goings from the ship, but he didn’t seem very alert. Actually, Neville wondered if he was asleep.

  Neville didn’t much care for riding horses, but it bettered walking, particularly when he had no idea
of his destination. At any rate, the field of view from a horse was better than from a low-slung carriage.

  “Master of the Elizabeth?” the marine asked.

  “Yes, I am,” replied Neville.

  “Please mount. We are going to the mansion of the Captain-General of Guadeloupe, M. Ernouf. It is only a mile.”

  When the two dismounted at the entry to the mansion, a stable-boy took their horses. At the door, the marine indicated Neville should knock, and he took a position as guard of the entry. Neville knocked. A well-dressed butler answered the door and and led him to the parlor.

  Three people stood within, each with a drink in hand. Ernouf faced the two ladies but stood sideways to the door. Marion stood with her back to it, and Ellen faced him straight on. Ellen blinked once… twice… her eyes went so round that Marion turned to see what caused Ellen’s reaction.

  “Ahh,” Ernouf began, “Here’s our g…”

  Marion shrieked in disbelief, bolted in his direction, and threw herself into his arms. She laughed and cried at the same time and trembled as she kissed him. When she gained enough composure to speak, she asked, “How can you be here? Surely, you have not been to France and back?”

  “No, my sweet, but it is a story for another time.”

  “I assume you must be Mister Burton, from Miss Stillwater’s reaction,” Ernouf said. “I assure you, I am interested to hear your story, myself.”

  Ellen also came to give Neville a great hug, and he kissed her forehead. “Have you seen Joseph?” she asked.

  “No, I have not. But Mister Stillwater has, and reports he is well.”

  “You’ve been to Jamaica?” asked Marion.

  “Where else could I get Stillwater Rum.”

  Is father here? I can’t believe a team of horses could hold him away.”

  “It probably couldn’t, if he didn’t have a broken leg.”

  “Broken leg? Oh, Neville, you bring the worst news.”

  “No, no. He is recovering quite well. The break is not so serious, he is told – more of a crack. He is becoming somewhat more… irritable.”

  “Oh,” Marion said, “He’ll be fine, then.”

  “Shall we move to the table?” suggested Ernouf.

  Marion grabbed Neville’s hand for the short walk into the dining room and found a tightly folded piece of paper pushed into her palm. Neville leaned over when he pushed her chair in, gave her another kiss on the cheek and whispered, “Read it later.”

  A small plate of escargot appeared in front of each, filling the room with the sweet smell of roasted garlic.

  “I am sorry, Mister Burton, but we have no frogs here on this little island.”

  “A shame,” Neville said. “Are there limes?”

  Being in a suddenly overcharged, excited mood, Marion laughed so hard at this exchange that her sip of white wine squirted out her nose. She coughed, wiped her eyes and her nose with the napkin, and apologized.

  “Your story, please, Mister Burton… will you tell it? We sent a ship to France to retrieve you when your fiancée explained you were beyond your illness and late for your wedding. Your absence will undoubtedly create some considerable embarrassment to the captain when it is evident you are not aboard.”

  “I am sorry for his inconvenience, but a man must do what needs be. Doctor Stortford was also aboard. Strangely enough, he is looking forward to visiting France. But he’s American. I’m not so sure I would be greeted so warmly. When Speedwell changed course for north, I had been shackled to the foremast bitts, and so could do nothing. Soon the young lieutenant came to tell me I would be allowed free if I promised to do no harm.”

  “But you escaped anyway?” asked Ernouf.

  “I did not promise not to escape, only to avoid interfering in the ship’s operations.”

  “Does this not make you an escaped prisoner of France?”

  “I was also not a prisoner. I was a passenger who had been restrained for a very stupid act. I should have acted with far better composure…”

  “But in the spur of the moment and in the rush of love, you could not. I do not blame you for your actions. I might have done the same for either of these two.”

  The conversation actually caused both Ellen and Marion to blush. “Shall we get on with it, you two Romeos?” Ellen asked.

  “We were sailing north,” Neville began, “and I recognized where we were. We were retracing our course south, to the east of Long Island, where the corvette discovered us. I knew I…”

  Neville told his story of escape and travel to Jamaica.

  A course of soup arrived after the story of jumping overboard.

  A course of fish arrived after the story of sailing to Nassau.

  A small plate of beef arrived after the story of sailing to Jamaica.

  “Then our letter came, and you knew to come here. But why did you bring the rum?” Marion asked.

  “Because of my letter,” Ernouf said. “I must admit I asked for it. It should help make negotiations with Barbados a bit easier.”

  “And so here I am,” Neville said, wondering about such a letter and whether Chester had it all along. “So, you ladies must be packing for departure the day after tomorrow, I believe. Is that not right, Governor?”

  “Not exactly, I am sorry to say. Did you not read the part of the letter about a prisoner exchange?”

  “Prisoner exchange? No, I… I… I didn’t actually read the letter myself. What of it?”

  “We have sent a letter to Barbados requesting an exchange of two of our naval officers for these two fine ladies. The rum you have brought is a gift to smooth over the offer. You, however, may leave as soon as the rum is unloaded. I admit, though, that I am pleased to learn you will be waiting for Miss Stillwater when she arrives in Jamaica. The excitement of the room at a sudden end, Neville, Marion, and Ellen each looked from one to the other.

  With a dry mouth, Neville began. “As much as this comes as a shock, sir, I am afraid I cannot leave in a single day. I have some damage to my vessel that will surely take at least three days to repair, whether she is unloaded or not.”

  The women found their tongues, neither being of the wallflower sort. Ellen threw her fork at her plate and stood. The fork bounced off the china with a great clank and slid to the floor with a piece of beef skewered on it. “I knew we were prisoners when we were taken from Speedwell, but this is more devious than I thought. You’re treating us as prisoners of war, and we’ve been ransomed, as well? What if Barbados is not interested in a pair of civilian women? What becomes of us then?”

  . “What happened to your concern about delaying a wedding?” Marion demanded.

  The Governor shrugged. “I was sincere, verily, but things are often not so simple as we like, and situations change.”

  “So, we are merely prisoners, I see. Thank you for supper. I believe I shall turn in, now. Will you come, Ellen? And may I have a word with Mister Burton?”

  Everyone stood, and Neville saw the Commandant wag his finger crossways, as to say, “No, you don’t.”

  Marion had seen it, too, and so walked quickly over to Neville for a short but tight embrace, and to whisper to him, “Madame Dufour, in back of the house.”

  With difficulty, Neville held his composure, and said, “It is a joy to my soul to see you both, but I must go see to repairs. Governor Ernouf tells me I should be gone in three days or I might be here much longer. Good Night, everyone” He gave a polite bow, but stayed for a moment to watch Marion and Ellen leave. He turned to Governor and, trying hard to keep a pleasant face, said, “Thank you for dinner.” He abruptly turned and left the room.

  A much-worried Neville sat in the small launch returning to Elizabeth that late afternoon. This is becoming much more complicated than I’d hoped. I’ll go over my ideas with First Mate Rawkins the moment I’m back, but I must remember that these men are not man-o-war’s men specially chosen for a cutting-out mission. I may not succeed, but I must try something.

  18: Pelicanr />
  With his leave approved, Joseph Dagleishe became ever more anxious to begin his foray to Guadeloupe. Upon arriving at Independence Hall, he found Chester standing by himself, moving about with a crutch.

  “I’m going to take you to see the ship. I know exactly where she is berthed.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to it, sir?”

  “Yes, of course I am. The doctor came to the office to take a look. He says I’m healing nicely. Will you please ask Mister Fries to ready the carriage?”

  “Here she is, Captain. What do you think?”

  From the pier, Pelican appeared exactly the craft Joseph needed – a swift trading Bahamian sloop, armed with eight twelve-pounders. Joseph went aboard to make a thorough inspection.

  “What is this ship, Mister Stillwater? She appears a privateer’s dream. Why is she not in action?”

  “Mister Chesney worries. I thought I said earlier. His captain is ill – something about being stuck through with a sword. But the blade apparently missed everything important, and he’ll mend in a few months. Mister Chesney tells me he’d rather the ship be active but doesn’t trust his crew to return with it if he allowed them to go out on their own. Me, he trusts. And the timing is right. If we can provision her in another two days, you might catch Neville.”

  Penguin’s journey to Guadeloupe began well. She enjoyed a strong southeastern breeze while making for the Windward Passage. Dagleishe made a plan to sail north and make his easting to the north of Hispaniola and Puerto Rico, and from thence to work south through the Leeward Islands. It was a gamble. Either north or south might present foul winds and currents on a passage east from Jamaica.

  “I am pleased you were willing to come, Lieutenant Morris. I value your quick thinking in action, and we may need it.”

  “More than willing, Sir,” said Morris. “Almost anything is better than a couple months of refitting. It’s a cutting-out action you say?”