Bore Tide
Sample Chapter
CHAPTER VI
- - THE FIRST STEP - -
Mr. Cole directed the crew to get under way and oversaw weighing anchor. The sails filled with wind and snapped loudly when opened. They briskly shed the water pent up in the folds of cloth. A stiff morning breeze was on the prod and the Bore Tide responded to it well when she turned for a run down river to the open sea.
Some of the crew eyed the new colored man’s arrival with suspicion and a feeling of uneasiness prevailed among the men, mostly because of concern over the recent actions of their captain. Grafton had noted this anxiety but let it pass for the moment, engrossed in his own problems.
“After we’ve cleared the Banks Mr. Cole, set a course south and away from the coast.” Grafton looked to the angry sky. “We’ll run with the wind while we can.”
“Aye, Captain,” Cole acknowledged and turned to look forward.
Grafton gestured for Black and Martrovich to accompany him to his cabin. When they arrived, his steward, Webster, came in and set a tray with cups and an urn of hot coffee on the Captain’s table.
“I’ll be back with your breakfast shortly, Captain,” Webster said and bowed slightly in the captain’s direction before he left.
“Mr. Webster,” Grafton stopped him. “If you would be so kind to see to it that Mr. Black is taken forward to get cleaned up and have the doctor see to his bruises. Grafton turned and opened a chest next to the port side of his cabin. Inside was a folded set of white sail cloth clothing, a red silk sash and an Arabian turban headdress. He gently picked them up and handed them to Nelson, “With my complements, Sir.”
Nelson smiled a broad smile and displayed his straight white teeth. He raised the fabric to his nose to take in a long forgotten aroma. “Thank you, Alexander,” he said with sincerity and shook the pile of cloth in his hands.
When they left his cabin, Grafton turned to Martrovich with a deadly serious stare. “What exactly did you read in that letter, Albert? I want it chapter and verse.”
“Gold bullion, by God!” he excitedly stated, “more than fifteen million U.S. dollars worth of it to boot. All of it to be transferred at or near a town called Bahio Kino in Baja, California to a representative of the Confederacy. It is a gift from France to help upset Union exploits in Richmond.”
“I believe it is meant to somehow help ensure the success of the Southern States in their secession. It would appear that France thinks to the future and a diplomatic liaison between their two nations.” Albert cleared his throat and looked at the Captain, “Armed with this information, it doesn’t take a mental giant to discern your destination or your purpose here.”
“That’s why I thought you might wish to come along and I didn’t leave you in Richmond,” he smiled. “Were there any stipulations as to the transfer?” he asked and tried to avoid the offhanded question of his purpose.
“Only that the bearer has the duplicate letter to trade to the ship’s captain, which you now possess.” He pointed toward Grafton’s breast coat pocket
“You will keep this information to yourself,” Grafton said, as he poured two cups of coffee and smiled. “You did say the letter stipulated fifteen million?”
“Indeed it did, but there is something else, Captain.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and picked up his coffee. “The parchment of the paper seemed less than royal and the seal was a little crude for that of other diplomatic documents I’ve seen.”
“Are you suggesting we got a forgery ourselves?”
“Perhaps not, it may be the genuine article.” he smiled, “Of course you’ll find that out when you meet the French. For you own safety, however, it is something you should keep clearly in mind.”
****
Grafton was dressed, yet sound asleep, napping on top of his bunk to try and catch up on his long day’s night. They had been at sea for several hours when Mr. Webster came in and shook him awake. “Captain,” he said excitedly. “Mr. Cole says your presence on the deck is required immediately.”
“All right,” he sighed, and sat up on the edge of the bunk rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “What is it this time?”
“A ship, Sir, it’s off the port bow.”
When the Captain came topside, Mr. Cole and Dobbs were on the quarterdeck next to Mr. Black and Elder. The wind bordered on a gale force and some infrequent large drops of rain stung their unprotected facial skin. Long strands of white water skimmed over the tops of the twelve foot seas in long streaks above the ocean surface. The ship carried all the sail she could muster for the conditions and pounded hard into the water.
“A ship!” Mr. Cole shouted to the Captain when he came up on deck.
Grafton cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted up to the crows nest, “Can you make her out?”
The crewman shouted back that it was a Union Steamer two points off the port bow and she was also carrying sail, catching up fast.
Grafton grabbed hold of a rope lashed next to the aft mast, to keep his balance on the pitching deck and looked down to the rain soaked wood to considered his options.
“I believe they mean to board us, Captain,” Dobbs observed. He just got the words out of his mouth when the Union ship fired a shot over their bow.
Grafton tipped his head. “You may very well be right Mr. Dobbs.” He spun around to look at his first officer. “Heave to, Mr. Cole, and lower our colors, we are about to have guests.”
“But Captain!” Mr. Dobbs pleaded. “We must run!”
Grafton looked Dobbs in the eyes without emotion and shouted, “Heave to, Mr. Cole, and that’s an order.” He could see excitement in the officer’s eyes about their approaching company. “Mr. Dobbs, go to the armory and break out the weapons, make sure every man is heavily armed.”
Dobbs started to leave but Grafton grabbed a handful of his uniform sleeve and pulled him around close to his face. “You be sure they understand there will be no shooting on our part. This is a display of force only, because I want those Marines to know if they give us trouble it will cost them. We will talk, not fight our way out of this.” He shook free of the man’s sleeve. “No one shoots except on my direct order, do you understand?” He shouted.
Dobbs looked down at the hand which had held him at bay. “Aye Captain,” he said and looked back into Grafton’s eyes.
The long boat had a difficult time in the crossing between the two ships but they finally managed to come over. Fifteen Marines and two officers boarded the Bore Tide in the late hours of their first day at sea. They were immediately surrounded by twenty five or so crewmembers, each armed with a pistol and repeating rifle. Mr. Dobbs pushed his way to the front of his men and tipped his hat to the boarding party’s superior officer.
“What’s the meaning of this?” The Naval officer demanded and waved his hand across the gathered armed men.
“Oh, I believe our meaning here is quite clear, Sir. Your men will remain on deck and you two officers will accompany me to the Captain”
The older officer angrily shook his head. “By God, Sir, you will have these men stand down and allow us to search this ship and its cargo or we will blow you out of the water under the legal authority of our blockade!”
“Then we can all die here” Dobbs pointed at the deck, “with you now if that is your wish,” he insisted, “or you can take five minutes and discuss this matter with the Captain of the Bore Tide.” He paused and looked at the outnumbered, wet and mostly frightened group of Marines. “Even though your company may have the resolve, Sir, a prudent commander usually talks before he commits his men to certain death!” he growled.
The officer could clearly see that his bluff was not going to work on the crew of this ship. With regret he asked to be taken to the Captain. “Stand fast men,” he hollered back at his Marines before he accompanied Dobbs to the aft deck.
When they reached the top step the naval officer slipped, lost his footing and ran his knee into the wood of the deck. A hand appeared in front of him which he took and was quickly pulled to his feet. When his eyes lifted to his rescuer, his jaw dropped. Holding him firmly by the forearm was Nelson Black, the most intimidating man he’d ever laid eyes on. In the low light, he was almost an apparition of death itself in the form of a lord from an old Arabian book. The look on the senior seaman’s face revealed he sensed there would be no quarter for him if his negotiations with the captain were to fail.
Nelson released his grip on the man and lifted his huge arm to point toward the rear stairs and the captain’s quarters. His face showed no emotion whatever and his eyes flashed with disdain for the enemy now on the ship. The officer stumbled rearward, but kept an eye on the fearful sight of Nelson Black.
Mr. Cole pulled the cabin door open when Dobbs knocked and the three men entered. Captain Grafton stood behind his work desk which was covered with maps and charts. “My name is Grafton and I am the Captain of the Bore Tide. What is the meaning of firing on my ship, Sir?” he demanded.
“I am Lieutenant Commander Mathers, First Officer of the armed steamer, Boston, of the United States of America. We, Sir, are exercising our rights under blockade to stop and search this vessel for war contraband.” He removed his hat and swatted water from the lower half of his coat.
“And we are sailing under a Dutch National flag on the high seas, Commander. I do not recognize your authority to be aboard my vessel.” Grafton retorted.
“You have that right, of course, Captain, yet we hold the upper hand. If you wish to continue with this discord, we can arrange for your ship to go the bottom.”
Grafton let out a long breath and dropped his pencil on the desk. “Mr. Cole, would you and Mr. Dobbs please give me a moment alone with these two gentlemen?” He asked. Both men nodded and stepped out through the cabin door closing it behind them. Grafton pulled open a drawer on his desk and handed a paper to Mathers without comment.
With a slightly confused look on his face, Mathers reached out to take the document and slowly opened it. His subordinate looked over his shoulder and also read. When he finished, he looked back at the other man and both had a look of disbelief. “How do I know this is not some elaborate hoax?” he finally asked of Grafton.
“I hope you noticed the signature at the bottom, Commander?”
“Yes, but that could be a forgery as well,” he noted and slapped the top of the paper with the back of his hand.
“Perhaps,” Grafton conceded. “However, it is not and I strongly suggest you accept it on face value because if you don’t,” he warned, “and you elect to disobey my orders, I will see both you and your captain hanged.” He reached out and snatched the paper back. “This Presidential order makes me your commanding officer in this affair, Sir, especially aboard my ship.”
With thoughts of the tense situation that lingered up on the deck and the larger than life Arabian guard at the door, it did seem prudent for the commander to accept the facts as presented. “Just what orders would you give?” he paused, “That is if I accept that letter as the gospel.”
“You will remove yourselves from this ship and have your Captain stand down so we can be on our way without further interference.” Grafton smartly replied.
“And if I don’t?” Mathers pressed.
“Then we may very well go to the bottom, Commander, but I can give you my personal assurance that neither you, nor your men here aboard, will be afforded the discomfort of that event or, for that matter, will even know it’s happened.” He looked sternly at both men just before he smirked. “You have your orders gentlemen.” Grafton walked around his desk to the mess table and picked up three glasses. He began to pour out some sherry while the two men stood in silence to ponder their situation. When finished, he picked up his glass and raised it in a toast.
“To the Honorable Captain of the Boston and her fine crew, a safe return from our mission and to the United States of America.” Grafton stood still and held up his glass. The commander and his aide approached the table and took their glasses in turn, then drank the toast.
Mathers roughly set his glass down on the table and went to the door to leave. He stopped and looked back. “You know, of course, I will confirm this letter of yours,” he raised an eyebrow. “Should it turn out to be false, the next time any American ship sees your colors you will be shot out of the water without quarter.”
Grafton raised his glass toward the man. “I would expect no less from the U.S. Navy, Commander.” The smile disappeared from Grafton’s face, “Good day to you both, Sir.”
Grafton took a moment to put on his foul weather coat before he went up on deck to watch the American Navy depart his ship. Some of the Marines had a devilish time getting back into the launch because of the heavy seas and Grafton’s men made fun of them from the deck. When the launch was away and headed back to the Boston, he turned to Cole.
“Make sail, Mr. Cole, and get us out of here. I want to be well clear of any more blockade boats before midnight.” He turned to look at Dobbs. “Disarm the men and lock everything back up. Also, make sure you have an accurate count of all weapons.
“Captain,” Dobbs looked up at Grafton. “What did you say to make those men leave so easily?”
“What’s the matter, Mr. Dobbs, you disappointed you didn’t get to shoot anyone?” Grafton saw a broad smile on Black behind Dobbs at the remark.
“No, Sir.” He shook his head with the knowledge he wasn’t going to get an answer and he left to complete his task.
Grafton returned to his cabin and sat in the darkening room to watch the angry sea out of the aft windows. He slowly sipped a glass of rum and contemplated the dilemma of retrieving at least five million dollars more than his contract specified. It was certainly windfall information, but for who was the question that burned on his mind.
****
The next morning dawned with clear skies and a brisk northeasterly wind which made for perfect sailing. After he finished breakfast, Grafton made his way to the deck and took a few minutes to enjoy the morning air over the aft rail. Mr. Cole quietly walked up next to his captain and stood there with him in silence.
“All hands on deck, if you please, Mr. Cole,” Grafton finally said in a loud whisper but did not look away from the shimmering sea.
Cole turned and walked forward to the deck master and gave the order to assemble the crew. Within a very short time all the men aboard were gathered just below the aft deck amidships. Major Bennett, Black and Elder, along with Mr. Dobbs, came up the stair to stand with Mr. Cole, who turned and informed the Captain that all were present.
Grafton came forward and stood before his crew. “Men, it is time you know what it is that lies before us. I have entered into a secret pact with the Union forces of the United States to recover some property they want from the French. As you may well have guessed by the cargo we took on in New York, this may prove to be a rather difficult and dangerous task.”
He walked down two steps to get closer to the men. “We are bound to sail around the Horn,” he paused when he saw the apprehension in his men’s eyes about the dangerous crossing. “From there to Baja, California where we should encounter a French Frigate. My first intention is to take their cargo by stealth and cunning, but failing that, we will be obliged to take it on and seize their stores by force.”
“Attack a frigate, Captain?” One man shouted and several of the men groaned in protest. “Are you crazy, Sir?”
“That’s right Mr. Hitchcock,” Grafton hastily replied. “Attack it, board it and seize the cargo. Remember, gentlemen, the crewmen of that French ship are mere sailors not military or combat veterans. It would be my guess they will not be prone to fight hard.”
“Even though they out-gun us we will have the advantage and element of surprise,” he looked around, “and before we arrive, you will all be well schooled for this fight and instructed in how to board a vessel at sea.”
“It’s all well and good that you made this arrangement, Captain, but it sounds like we’re about to get ourselves killed.” Johansen shouted from the crowd and shook his fist into the air as a protest. “What’s in this for us besides adventure and your glory?”
“Fifty thousand U.S. dollars, to be divided equally amongst you.” His remark silenced the group as they looked at each other in disbelief over the sum. Grafton raised his arm and held out his hand. “With luck we will not have to fight them at all.”
“While in Richmond, we, that is, Mr. Black, Elder, Martrovich and I,” he said and waved his arm backward to the men on the upper deck. “We managed to acquire a document from the Confederates which gives us the authority to transfer the French cargo. It is my plan to arrive in Baja ahead of some Confederate troops and to pose ourselves as that detachment sent to retrieve the goods. Then, with this document,” he held up the paper, “we will trick them into turning their cargo over to us.”
All the men now listened intently. “Make no mistake, men,” Grafton assured them. “There are at least a hundred things that could go wrong and we may have to adapt our plans without notice. We may even get into the fight of our lives, for our lives.” He emphasized. “However, great rewards require great risk, but only for those who are willing to take it,” he shouted and shook the paper in his raised fist.
He stopped while his gaze wandered over the quiet men on the deck. “Over the next few days,” he started again and with a lower voice. “I want you all to consider these risks and decide for yourselves if it is worth the reward and whether you are in or out of this scheme.”
“Let me assure you that any man who does not want to get involved will be put ashore at our next stop, Rio de Janeiro, and with no hard feelings. If I am still alive upon conclusion of this undertaking, I also assure you that I will return to pick you up or, if you wish, you are free to sign on to another ship in port.
Quintin looked up at the Captain from the lower deck. “What’s so important about this cargo, Captain, I mean what kind of stores do they want us to pick up?”
“A valuable cargo, Mr. Quintin,” Grafton gazed up to the sky and tried to decide if he wanted to tell the men about the gold. Finally, he elected to wait and looked back at the men before he spoke. “It’s the kind of cargo which will put a lot of money in your pockets should we succeed.”
Hearing no more immediate questions, Grafton changed the subject. “I estimate no more than twenty four days to Rio if this wind holds. We will pick up ships stores for the journey about the Horn through the Drake Passage.” He looked down, then back up, “Although it has its challenges, it is by far the safer and faster course to the Pacific.” He smiled. “We should be able to be around the continent by late August.”
One of the men shouted that the Horn was most likely more dangerous than the Frogs and everyone nervously laughed.
“I have been around the Horn three times men, but only once in a strong gale.” He paused. “This is a good time of year, but should we run into weather, it will be a story you can tell your grandchildren when they ask of your adventures with the sea. The Tide is a sound ship,” he tapped his palm on the hand rail, “as you know, and it can weather any storm as long as we keep our heads about us.”
Grafton nodded in approval at the resolve of his men. “Return to your duties now men and think over our talk here this morning.” He turned and went back up the steps to the aft deck. He did not turn or look back, but quietly asked Mr. Cole if the men were dispersing to their stations.
“Yes, Sir,” Cole smiled, “I think you have won them over.”