The Delirium Passage Read online

  Now Thompson stood and extended his hand. “Fair enough,” he said. “Pleased to meet you, Mister Elliot.”

  “Doctor, Sir.”

  “Hmmm. Certainly.” He sat and resumed his work, leaving Neville to see his own way out.

  9: Honeybee

  Here’s our first, men!” yelled Hornigold. Three pirate ships were sailing large over the top of Jamaica, fighting the current en route to Panama. Ranger, a fast sloop of thirty guns, commanded by Benjamin Hornigold acted as flagship. Adventure, Blackbeard’s ten-gun sloop carrying seventy men, came second, and Rattler, another somewhat larger ten-gun sloop under Captain Napin, followed. She carried another one hundred men

  “I knew we’d find something around Jamaica,” Hornigold gloated to Neville. “The Spanish bugger has sailed south of Jamaica on her way to round Cuba to the east, thinking if she stays away from the north of the island, someone like me wouldn’t find her. But it didn’t work, did it? Ha, ha, ha!”

  “Nossir. We saw her the moment she passed from behind the island. She should have taken much more sea room. We’re almost on top of her already. She’s hull up.”

  “Billy, Peters,” yelled Hornigold to his quartermaster and sailing master, “Chase! Look alive. Set all sail aloft. Wind’s not too much for it. Get on! Get on!” The air filled with the sound of crusty feet slapping the deck, the musicians’ drums, and the creaking of hemp through wooden blocks. The ship itself became livelier, heeling slightly more to port and bullying small waves aside.

  Hornigold’s tone was urgent – almost childishly joyful; “Look, Doctor, how our sloops come along! We’ll take this Spaniard in less than three hours, mark my word, ha, ha.”

  “The Spaniard has seen us, I’m sure,” Neville said.

  “He has for sure. All her sail is abroad now, but she’s a sailing pig, she is… not built for a chase, no.”

  Now began the part of a chase that always amazed Neville. All had been in great haste. Men were poised for action… and then… everyone waited. Often for hours. Most navy captains had learned to clear the decks, but wait on the call to action, in order to postpone the extreme tension before the first gun. But not here… not yet… not on this pirate ship.

  Two hours passed. Ranger closed steadily on the Spaniard.

  “Billy,” yelled Hornigold. “Now? What say ye?”

  “No. Another half glass, Cap’n”

  “I am surprised, Captain,” Neville said. “The captain should know he cannot outrun us. All three of us are almost within range. He has not the guns to fight us.”

  “Aye, but if he does, it’s all the better. Our lads would like nothing better than to leap aboard and have at ‘em. Ready, Billy?”

  “Aye, Sir,” he said, and bellowed forward, “Gun number one, stand by.”

  Sheets flew on the Spanish vessel. Her colors began dropping.

  “Avast, number one!” yelled Quartermaster Howard.

  An immediate grumble of disappointment rolled amongst the ship’s company. Even Hornigold slumped slightly. “Shorten sail, Peters,” he said.

  The rattle of preparing grapples and dropping sails, and the excited gossiping of the men replaced the hushed quiet of a good breeze in the rigging and slapping of waves against the bow. Ranger slowed, and soon ground her larboard devil against the similar-sized Spanish vessel.

  The process of taking control went quickly and smoothly. Pirates leaped aboard the Flor d’Espania, snatched the master and his mate, and cowered the Spanish crew into the bow of their ship, even as the Adventure attached herself on the opposite side.

  “What’s your cargo?” Hornigold asked the master. He bothered with no familiarity or politeness.

  The master looked nervously at Hornigold, responding, “No entiendo, Señor. No entiendo.”

  “You’ll tell me or I’ll hang you all from the yard,” Hornigold threatened.

  “No habla Inglais. No entiendo,” the man repeated.

  “Get a rope Jenkins. We’ll see what he says when he sees it.”

  Jenkins returned with a rope.

  The Spaniard’s eyes went wide. He put his hands together, and said, “Madre de Dios. Por Favor, no. Que quieras?”

  “If I may, Captain?” Neville said.

  “You want the first blow, do you? A doctor? This I want to see. Go ahead.”

  Neville turned to the Spanish master, saying, “Desculpe me, Señor, pero mi Capitania no hablas espaniol.” He continued in Spanish, “He wants to know what your cargo is.”

  The Spaniard began blabbering, so Neville put his hand up for him to stop. “Despacio, por favor. Despacio.”

  Hornigold turned fully to Neville. “Spanish? Verily, Doctor. You speak Spanish? You’ve taken the amusement out of this. Very well, have him tell us. I can see he’s willing.”

  * * * * *

  Ranger and her cohorts were under way again, on a course south for Panama, in the dimming light of day. They were now richer by fifty barrels of Madeira wine and twenty of various foodstuffs, the Master’s silver plate, forty bolts of fine Spanish dress-making material, and two hundred pieces of eight. The spoils were shared into Ranger and Adventure. Rattler would share equally, but other than several barrels of wine, the sharing would not be done at sea.

  Flor d’Espania hastily continued west, in hopes of reaching a friendly port before their remaining scant stores were depleted. Two men had deserted, volunteering as pirates on Ranger.

  * * * * *

  Neville leaned against the larboard rail six days later, as far forward as the rail went. The pirates had removed the foredeck as an obstruction to boarding.

  Here I am aboard a pirate ship – A famous one, at that, and she is probably the most heavily armed ship in the region. There won’t likely be any English Navy in this area in 1717. I see no avenue of escape.

  “Hello, Doctor,” Hornigold’s voice said behind him. “Enjoying the day, are ye?”

  Neville turned to see him in his purple silk waistcoat and lace collar and cuffs. “Aye, Captain. I have no doctoring to do today.”

  “Just you wait. The land there, low t’ the south; you see it? It’s Panama, and we’ll find something – logwood or Jesuits bark or maybe a fat Spaniard with silver or gold. Should be Puerto Bello on the bow. And if we must forcibly board a ship for her cargo, you’ll have some work.”

  “It’s quiet now, though, ain’t it? Warm sun and a following breeze.”

  “Aye. And there’s none here can best the three of us.”

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t thank you for the supplies. Your men will appreciate it if I have to use them.”

  “I bought ‘em for the men – not for you. Don’t think I’m your easy mark.”

  “Well, thanks for the ten pound, then. I paid my debts in town.”

  “You make a strange pirate, doctor. We’ll keep our eye on ye.”

  No sooner had Hornigold walked away, yelling something at one of the men lounging by the mast, than a familiar call came from above, “Sail, Ho!”

  “Where away, Samuels?” Hornigold called.

  I hadn’t really thought of it, but since Hornigold is English, it makes sense his ship would operate something like the Navy.

  “Two points on Starb’rd bow, Cap’n. Spanish, I think. Bound north,” Samuels replied.

  “Ha, ha!” whooped Hornigold. “She’s loaded and heading for home. Hoist the flag, Williams.” He roared, “Chase!” at the top of his lungs.

  The ship awoke. Men were running to their stations, and Hornigold’s personal black flag emblazoned with a white skull rose at the stern. The captain shouted sailing directions, and ‘Billy’ Howard barked orders at anyone nearby. Ranger changed her course to intercept her prey at a point further north. Sails tightened, and she slowly began to increase speed. No spray flew. The breeze wasn’t particularly strong, and the sea following.

  Adventure and Rattler were quickly left behind as Ranger turned to a more favorable angle of wind. With the small sloops’ much greater ability t
o sail tight to the wind, the three pirate ships, all with a generous weather gage advantage, spread wide to ensure the Spaniard couldn’t double back for port.

  “Jenkins,” yelled Hornigold, “My glass. Bring my glass.” By pirate creed, Hornigold was now fully in charge. His word could not be questioned while under chase.

  “Sorry, Sir,” Jenkins said, handing the glass.

  Hornigold swept it up to his eye. “I think she may not even have seen us yet,” he said. “I see no change in course or sail.”

  He yelled again, “We’ll have her, men! We’ll have her!”

  A raucous cheer erupted from the crew. “I hope she fights!” yelled one. “I’d like to shoot a Spaniard.”

  The long wait ensued. Neville did notice one difference between a man-o-war and this pirate ship, however. Here, weapons were at the ready, but also the drink. Some were drinking in earnest and would surely become difficult to control.

  “May I have a look, Captain?” Neville asked Hornigold.

  Hornigold stared at him for a moment, and said, “Go ahead. You were ship’s master, weren’t you? Tell me what you see.”

  Neville raised the glass to his eye. It was, indeed, a fine instrument; the shore and the ship jumped into surprisingly clear view. “She’s larger than I thought… she’s seen us, Captain, and had raised a second jib.”

  “What?” he said, snatching the glass. He raised it and studied for a full minute. “She doesn’t turn back. She must think she has us outgunned. Ha, ha. That ship has a fool for a captain.”

  “The sloops must have seen it, too. They are both coming up on the wind. I’ll go prepare my equipment in sick bay.”

  Neville went below and laid the saws, bandages, and splinter-removing knives and pliers on his trunk next to the boards which served as an operating table. He placed a bucket for discarded parts – human, wooden, or bandage – in close proximity, and decided he had nothing more to do for now. His stomach disagreed with him. He had often watched these processes, and on rare instance had even assisted, but had never been the one operating. He’d also suffered from occasional mal-de-mer and this situation increased the possibility of another incident. He returned to the weather deck.

  Ranger and the others were now closer to their prey, but it would still be a couple hours before they were close enough to fire a warning shot – unless the Spaniard sooner understood his situation.

  “What is she doing now, Captain?” Neville asked Hornigold.

  “She has changed course somewhat toward shore,” he answered. “She has sea room to run for a day or more and must be hoping to find another ship to help her or thinking she has a chance to outrun us. Neither will help him. I hope she finds another ship… then we’ll have two. The prospect is quite cheerful, sure, but I find myself annoyed at the foolishness of this blighter. It will just take longer to catch him. Hrumff. I’m go below to take my dinner.”

  Neville stood alone at the rail, enjoying the fresh air and watching clouds gathering to the east. We might be in for a blow. A flight of the omnipresent pelicans passed close to Ranger at the wavetops, one after the other in a silent line.

  Three hours later, Ranger and Rattler were both close enough to consider their first shot. Adventure was only half a league behind. Hornigold’s black skull flag snapped in a force four wind. An overcast sky added to the drama of the setting, and rain appeared to be in the offing. The seas had risen to over four feet. The Spaniard heeled far more to port than she would normally have sailed because she dared not reduce canvas. Ranger now had only the slightest edge of weather gage but the Spaniard, Espiritu Barcelona, still had no chance to pass ahead of her. And she could not fall off, or Rattler or Adventure would have her.

  “She still has not let her sheets fly, you see, doctor? I told you this captain is a fool.” He turned to Howard. “Ready the bow chaser, Billy. Fire when ready.”

  “Aye, Cap’n,” he replied gleefully, and ran forward to where the gun crew had been ready for a quarter of an hour.

  A roar of rain began; not a gentle English summer shower, but a great wall of falling water that overtook the ship from aft. Huge drops of rain pelted every part of the ship and beyond, temporarily obscuring Espiritu Barcelona. A loud crack, a cry of pain, and a great flapping roar from forward all reported sudden damage. Something broken unbalanced the helm, causing Ranger heel heavily and lurch to larboard. The problem became evident the moment the worst of the rain passed – the foretopsail yard had cracked in half, with the larboard side drooping and the sail flapping violently.

  Espiritu Barcelona appeared again as a ghost in the mist but she was now directly forward rather than two points to larboard where she had been. If she did not regain her course, they might lose their chase. The other two ships would catch her, of course, but Hornigold would be furious. Two helmsmen were straining to straighten the ship.

  “Get that sail down!” yelled Neville.

  “No more orders from you, doctor,” Hornigold scolded over the noise of his black flag snapping in the wind, “or you’ll be confined to your sick bay. Go see to that man lying on the foredeck.”

  Neville’s work was about to begin.

  “Aye, Captain. Sorry… instinct.” He went forward, leaning against the rail for stability, as yet another gust and flood of rain shivered the ship. The foretopsail began roaring again, but the effort to re-furl it was under way by the time Neville arrived by his would-be patient. The man struggled to sit.

  “I’m awright, Doctor,” said the man, “Just had me wind knocked out when I hit the deck.” A trickle of blood oozed from his scalp, but he brushed it away. “Can’t be lying about now.”

  “Right, then, but you sit there a bit. You’ll be no good if you wash away because you’ve got no balance.”

  I just learned a lesson – I see why they always carry the wounded to sick bay. I can’t do anything by coming forward here without bringing so much as a bandage. He looked toward their chase. Barcelona was now the one picking up pieces. She had kept all sail aloft, even when she saw Ranger lose a topsail, because of the other two sloops pursuing. The second gust punished her for it. Her mizzen crashed into the water. She did not stop moving, however, even while her crewmen were cutting away at the tangle of rigging.

  Ranger gained quickly, and Billy’s gun crew put a lucky shot thru Barcelona’s aft rail, tearing away her ornate stern light and one of the workmen. The Spanish flag now flailed in the wind, with only one corner line holding it to the ship. Barcelona released her sails.

  The beginning of another heavy downpour, such as only the tropics can serve, literally drowned out both the crew’s initial groan – something like, “Aawww, not again,” and the noise of the flailing foretopsail. The gusts of the front had passed and now the rain fell steadily in large, heavy drops. Barcelona was visible, though quite indistinct. She could be heard, though, even upwind, because of the noise of so many uncontrolled sails.

  “Billy,” yelled Hornigold, “get a crew collecting water.”

  “Aye, Cap’n,” Billy yelled from forward.

  Ranger began furling sails as fast as her men could work. They might have a problem overshooting their prey as her speed abruptly slowed. “Loose courses,” ordered Peters. A slight lull in the rain allowed Peters and Hornigold to see they were much closer to Barcelona than they had assumed. Their new danger was collision.

  “Helm down,” screamed Hornigold. He waited two or three minutes before yelling, “Helm up.” Ranger did an amazing jog beneath Barcelona’s stern and came slowly higher on the wind – mostly by momentum, since the weight of wet sails severely impedes sailing capability – to slow along the other vessel’s larboard side. Ranger’s men scrambled to move their grappling gear from one side of the ship to the other. But grappling alongside could not be accomplished, mostly because both ships were now almost dead in the water and hove to. Four-foot waves do not make for damage-free grappling, particularly with two ships of quite different size. Espiritu Barcelona was co
nsiderably taller of freeboard, though of similar length. She also rolled more heavily, and the two ships might find their rigging smashing together. The initial capture maneuvers needed to be done by small boat. Rattler and Adventure had arrived. They, too, were soon hove to nearby. All three vessels sent their boarding crews to Barcelona.

  Hornigold didn’t relax until he saw Billy Howard bringing Barcelona’s master, mate, and four others for his ‘interview’. “Doctor Elliot,” he yelled.

  Neville flinched. He stood only three feet away.

  “Aye?” he said. Nobody had a concern about covering up against the rain or worrying it might trickle inside one’s shirt. Every bit of clothing worn by anyone was soaked through to the skin with wonderfully warm fresh water. Had they no business to do, they would all be frolicking in the luxury of it.

  “Oh, there you are… didn’t see you. Pffft,” he said, blowing rainwater off his lip. “I might need you if this bugger can’t speak the King’s English. Stay with me.”

  “Aye.”

  The process quickly became quite rote. These Spaniards spoke English well enough to be understood, and in the face of such force, were inclined to speak freely. Neville went to tend to a few men who had received minor injuries in the commotion of the storm’s initial gusts. Captains and mates moved to Hornigold’s cabin in order to have a conversation without shouting over the rain.

  Neville tended to a few nasty scrapes, which involved no more than bandaging, and to one who had broken a wrist. For this latter, he created a simple splint and gave the man some of the tincture of laudanum he had obtained thru Mr. Thompson in Nassau, for his pain.

  Neville returned to the upper deck. Even before his head appeared above the hatch, he could hear the abnormal excitement level. Men were now cavorting in the rain, which had decreased somewhat from when he’d gone below. But there was something more; several were drunk, as he expected, and they were all, to a man, ecstatic. He stopped one of them passing; headed for one of the transport boats going to retrieve their booty. “What’s happened?” he asked.