Date: Fri, 20 May 2005 23:28:27 -0400
From: edcwriter@yahoo.com
Subject: FOR GOD & COUNTRY - 3

FOR GOD & COUNTRY - 3

Copyright 2005 by Carl Mason and Ed Collins

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without
the written permission of the authors.  However based on real events and
places, "For God & Country" is strictly fictional.  Any resemblance to
actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.  As in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold
gradually.  If you would like to read other Mason-Collins stories, you
might turn to "Out of the Rubble," "Castle Margarethen," "The Priest and
the Pauper," and "High Plains Doctor" which are archived in Nifty's
"Historical" section.  Comments on the story are appreciated and may be
addressed to the authors at edcwriter@yahoo.com .

"For God and Country" is much indebted to a long out-of-print work titled
"Ask No Quarter" by George Marsh (Sun Dial Press, 1946).  In many ways, it
is an "alternative" retelling of parts of that grand story.  To be sure,
most of the content is unique to this yarn.

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both
adults and teenagers.  As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the
personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults.  If you are not of
legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you
trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral
dilemmas in your life, please leave.  Finally, remember that maturity
generally demands that anything other than safe sex is sheer insanity!


CHAPTER 3

(Revisiting Chapter 2)

The Lass was found to have a rich cargo of fine silk and other fabrics from
Cathay, a hold loaded with casks of port, and several richly jeweled pieces
destined for the consort of a British governor.  Coffee placed a prize crew
on board, gave the remaining British sailors the choice of helping make the
ship seaworthy or jumping into the sea, and ordered the Lass when prepared
to follow the Eagle into Fort-Royal on Martinique.

As Mr. Arnold stood at the gangway, welcoming the lads who were returning
to the Eagle, he beheld the smiling face of Hugh Allen.  When the mate
placed his hand over his heart, the handsome youth bobbed his head and
touched his forelock in what was far more than a perfunctory acknowledgment
of Arnold's gesture.  Captain Coffee watched from the quarterdeck...as he
had promised.

(Continuing Our Story - Fort-Royal)

After six long weeks at sea, all hands delighted in the sail into
Martinique.  Indeed, it was a stirring sight, something of which every man
jack had dreamed when fighting the colder, often violent seas of New
England.  The blue mountains to the north, the palms waving in the mild
tropic breezes, the scent of flowers foreign to their ken, the softness of
the warm air, the intense colors that met them on every side...paradise.
Passing a French frigate with its white lily banner, their spirits were
further buoyed by the cheers that greeted the sight of the Lass limping
along behind.  Perhaps the only dissonant sight that met their eyes as they
anchored in Fort-Royal was the long black sloop anchored close in to the
fort.  "A privateer?" grunted Arnold.  "Aye, that's one word for it,"
Captain Coffee responded, "but methinks there are others."

The Eagle was no sooner safely anchored than the Captain was making
preparations to go ashore.  He also gave leave to half the crew, placing
them under the command of the bosun's mates while on shore.  Arnold, the
bosun, and the remainder of the crew would have their time in the fleshpots
of Fort-Royal on the morrow.  As soon as Coffee had departed, Arnold made
sure that everything was shipshape for the day and made a number of
assignments, including times during which the various watches might swim
and otherwise relax.  The bosun passed the word to the crew.  His joy and
relief knew no bounds when he saw that Hugh was among those still on the
Eagle.  In passing, he quietly "commanded" him to appear at his cabin at
7:00 pm for dinner.

Promptly as the sixth bell was struck, Hugh knocked on the door to the
mate's cabin.  As Jeremiah opened the door, the young seaman, standing at
strict attention, saluted smartly and said, "Your obedient servant reports
as ordered, Mr. Arnold."  The mate was nearly overcome by the vision that
met his eyes.  An absolutely radiant, blond-haired young sailor stood
before him clad in his finest white skilt, his light blue cotton shirt,
light stockings, his dark blue jacket, gold-flecked blue neckerchief, his
black hat, and a pair of black shoes.  Trembling slightly, he bade him
enter.  Now, of course, it was Hugh's turn to tremble!  Removing his hat,
he stepped through the door to behold a table the likes of which he had
never seen.  Two of Arnold's great chests had been drawn together and
surmounted by a large square plank.  Covered with a fine white linen
tablecloth, the makeshift table was set with silver plates and cutlery,
crystal wine glasses, linen napkins, and candles.  A magnificent crystal
vase held a bouquet of tropical flowers.  "You have much to teach me, sir,"
the youth stammered nervously.  "Do not worry, my love," Jeremiah replied.
"You are absorbing everything else I place before you like a sponge.
Indeed, you have fulfilled your promise.  Without question, you are the
best student I have ever had!  Have no fears for this evening."  With that,
he took Hugh in his arms and kissed him passionately.  Indeed, the lad was
a superb student.  It was as if not a moment had passed since their last
meeting.  Without a glass of wine as an excuse, his head grew dizzy, his
body melted into his love's, and he wanted Jeremiah's arms to hold him
forever.  Arnold looked down between them and saw that the cut of the skilt
was not nearly loose enough to conceal the signs of his arousal.
Playfully, the mate diverted the lad from his embarrassment by lightly
kissing every part of the his handsome face - ears, forehead, chin, nose...
The planned evening might immediately have adjourned to the bed had there
not been a light knock at the door.

Cautiously cracking the door, Arnold opened it wide and bade an old sailor
to enter.  "You know Jean Pierre from the galley, Hugh.  He has sailed with
me most of my adult life and is absolutely trustworthy."  Jean Pierre
bobbed his head in Hugh's direction and laid out a dinner for two in
covered silver dishes that had just arrived from the finest restaurant in
Fort-Royal.  "Thank you, Jean Pierre."  When the old salt had disappeared,
the mate held a chair for Hugh and bade him sit.  Nervously, the boy took
his place at the table.  With great ceremony, Jeremiah opened a bottle of
the finest Champagne and poured glasses for the two of them.  The mate then
stood, raised his glass, and proclaimed, "To General Washington.  May his
arms be crowned with success!"  He quietly explained to Hugh that a proper
response was, "To General Washington," whereupon he would take a sip from
the glass.  Hugh dutifully raised the glass, intoned the toast, and barely
sipped the wine.  Well done, Hugh, but I now invite you to have a good
taste of this glorious wine.  The boy eagerly complied, exclaiming that it
was better than the best sasparilla that Mother Patience had ever made!
"And now it is your turn, my boy, to offer a toast."  Emboldened by his
success...and the delicious liquid...Hugh stood and proclaimed firmly, "To
the new flag that flies above us!"  "To the new flag," Arnold responded
fervently, as he joined in the toast.

It was a magnificent meal.  The youth both enjoyed the various dishes and
acquitted himself admirably.  Yes, there were "moments" such as the one
when Hugh's fork went flying across the room as his fingers slipped on the
handle, but within moments Jeremiah's fork also went flying and both men
lapsed into giggles.  Arnold asked if he wished something else to drink,
but Hugh replied that he was "much taken" with the Champagne.  The dessert?
Well, the boy was a New Englander...and a dessert was a dessert!  At home,
he confessed, they sometimes BEGAN the meal with a favorite dessert!
Jeremiah nodded his head in understanding, for he, too, was a son of God's
country.  At the end, plates empty, the Mate poured coffee.  Hugh professed
that he liked that, too, especially after dessert.  "Ah, my boy, but that's
not the end," Jeremiah exclaimed with a smile.  The youngster looked him
inquiringly, fully ready for the next course.  "Gentlemen normally end a
fine meal by smoking what is known as a 'cigar'.  Fortunately, a good
friend of mine, Israel Putnam who lives just over the line in northeastern
Connecticut, brought Cuban seed to America.  He has produced some excellent
cigars, and I invite you to share one."  Hugh look dubiously at a
tubular-shaped object wrapped in something that looked like brown paper.
He watched with interest as Jeremiah nipped off one end, lit the other from
one of the candles, inhaled, and sighed in deep satisfaction.  "Looks easy
enough," he thought.  Mimicking his host's actions, the boy lit his cigar
and inhaled deeply.  Fortunately, the choking and increasingly green-hued
youngster did not lose his dinner, though, by common agreement, the "cigar
lesson" was deferred "until a later date."

After Jean Pierre had removed the remains of the dinner, helped Hugh to
restore the table to its original condition, and departed, Jeremiah
suggested that they both remove their coats and shoes and make themselves
comfortable on the bed that crowded the little cabin.  Hugh grinned,
thinking that he was ready for this course, too!  Arnold caught the grin,
matched it with a happy smile of his own, and took the magnificent young
seaman into his arms.  "If I do anything to make you uncomfortable, young
Hugh, you will tell me?" he murmured softly.  "I shall tell you, sir, but
you should know that I love you with all my heart.  Tutor me, I beg you, in
the ways of manly love."  Slowly, Jeremiah stripped off Hugh's stockings
and shoes, seductively unbuttoned his shirt, removed it, and placed it on a
nearby chest.  He lay alongside the youth, looking down at his matchless
beauty.  As if he couldn't quite believe what he saw, he reached out and
lightly ran his hand over the boy's heavy shoulders and his solid pectoral
muscles.  The golden skin...the velvet skin that covered muscles so bold...
His fingers traced the outlines of his lips and toyed, momentarily, with
his square chin.  Bending low, his lips brushed the youngster's face and
then moved deeper to lathe an aureole, his teeth lightly brushing the
nipple.

Hugh suddenly realized what his buddies had been so excited about out on
the docks in Newport with their loves.  His body felt as if it were going
to explode!  His heart pounded so hard in his chest that he could hear the
thumping.  At one and the same moment, he wanted to scream...to laugh...to
cry!  His eyes teared; his vision blurred; his mind increasingly
surrendered control over his quivering body.  Suddenly, he sat up and
wrapped his heavy arms around the man who was turning his body into a
blazing inferno.  "Jeremiah," he cried loudly, "Jeremiah..."  "Hold on
tightly, Hugh.  Lean forward as I pull against you."  Arnold leaned
backwards, drawing the love-crazed youth with him.  Reaching down, he
loosened the top of the boy's skilt and forced it down over his proud
buttocks.  "Now, Hugh...just for a moment...lie back."  With that, Arnold
pulled the garment down the lad's legs and off his feet.  For just a second
he beheld the reclining figure - a thin sheen of perspiration covering
gleaming perfection, eyes crazed, individual muscles spasming, a mewing cry
upon lips that reached for his.  Quickly tearing the remaining clothes from
his body, he leapt into the arms of the naked youth who clawed at him,
inhaled his tongue till he thought it might be lost in the depths, groaned,
whipped their intertwined bodies to and fro, and moaned his name
repeatedly.  Jeremiah's tongue was everywhere, darting, licking, probing.
Wondering if he could ever accomplish the deed, he slowly worked the giant
phallus into his mouth, deeper and deeper, until his throat muscles could
pulse against it.  With a great cry, the beautiful youth came, propelling
stream on stream of cum straight down the mate's throat.  Slowly, his
phallus receded, leaving a taste far richer than any experienced
theretofore.  Sobbing softly, they lay in each other's arms.
"Jeremiah...Jeremiah...I love you so," Hugh gasped.  "And I you," Arnold
breathed, "for I've searched for you all my life."  Neither man could long
keep his hands off the other.  Indeed, a fire had been lit that would not
be quenched save by death itself.

In time, the mate helped the youth to don his skilt, but not able to face
continuing to clothe him, gave the lad another short lesson.  Sensually,
his hand crept up the hard, perfectly smooth skin of Hugh's thigh from
below, feeling the lad's thick muscles quiver beneath his fingers.  All too
soon, it reached the massive balls and gently cupped and squeezed them in
his palm.  Inching upwards, his fingers touched the boy's glans, the
foreskin of which had long since retracted, leaving the head to pour forth
its rich liquids.  Drawing giant breaths in through his mouth, Hugh reached
down, seized the hem of the garment, and pulled it up.  "Now, Jeremiah,
now!" he commanded.  Knowing an order when he heard one, Arnold swirled his
tongue around the head, playing with the frenulum, inserting the tip of his
tongue into the urethral slit, and gently sucking.  With a great moan,
Hugh's body arched full off the bed as he exploded into Jeremiah's mouth.

"The ship's boats will soon be returning," Jeremiah finally said
reluctantly.  Tomorrow, on shore we shall be able to be together.  Hugh
groaned, opened one eye, and stuck out his tongue.  "I think, sir, that I
should prefer to stay here with you...forever.  Let the Captain do what he
will!"  "Were there not those who would do as he ordered, I should be
tempted," his lover responded, "but we have no choice.  Up, fair Prince,
and let us get the clothes back on you - as sad a thought as that may be!"
Though still groggy, clinging to Jeremiah, and a bit silly - for the
Champagne had not completely left him - Hugh was persuaded to struggle back
into his finery.  With repeated kisses, firm promises of appropriate
"repayment," and not a few giggles, he was finally pushed out the door of
Arnold's cabin.

Though Jeremiah's body was still on fire, morning finally came.  The
Captain reported that he had experienced great success in Fort-Royal.
Though France had not yet declared War, the Governor would give the
Americans any material help that they needed and welcomed the opportunity
to sell those British vessels they might seize, together with their cargos.
The proceeds could be banked with the American representative in Fort-Royal
who had an unquestioned reputation for honesty.  Indeed, he already had a
tentative figure on the Lass and her cargo which, he said, was indeed
generous.  Captain Coffee further commented that his many contacts in the
Caribbean had established that the Governor's honesty was to be trusted, as
rare as that was in these waters, he added grimly.  In atypically good
humor, he wished him a good day in Fort-Royal and mentioned a few cautions
that he should pass on to his shore party.

Once ashore, the mate passed effective control over to the bosun and his
minions and made his way to a caf‚ on the upper edge of the small town
where he had arranged to meet Hugh.  There was little chance of being
observed, for the sailors historically tended to congregate in a few bars
and brothels close to the waterfront.  The boy was waiting for him as he
trudged up the street.  After purchasing an inexpensive blanket, Jeremiah
hired a carriage and inquired where they might enjoy the shore...and their
privacy.

The beach was everything the carriage driver had said it was: small,
private, covered with a strangely dark colored sand, forested hills steeply
descending almost to the water's edge.  And the water...  Oh God, the
water.  Turquoise from a distance, but up close, warm and so clear that you
could see single grains of sand on the bottom.  As the carriage turned back
towards Fort-Royal, they held hands, and trod out upon the sand.  Suddenly,
without warning, Jeremiah yelled, "Last one in's a French pirate!" and
began throwing his clothes in every direction.

He splashed into the water first, too, although he hadn't gone two feet
before a hunk crashed into him from the rear, sending him sprawling.  Over
and over the two naked bodies rolled in the surf, no holds barred, great
muscles gleaming, their loud shouts sending flocks of birds into flight!
Finally, half drowned, panting, and laughing hysterically, Jeremiah managed
to pin the boy's back against the dark wet sand.  Lying dominantly between
the youth's widespread thighs, his chest pressed against Hugh's, his ankles
controlling the lad's legs, he barked, "Do you strike your flag, sir?"
Hugh used his great strength to fight his way to a sitting position and
kissed the mate vigorously.  "I didn't say I wanted ransom, matey," Arnold
growled.  "I asked if you were ready to surrender."  The momentary silence
that followed was finally broken by the cry of a gull and, overall, the
crashing of the sea.  Strangely, Hugh imagined that he could smell the
lavender in Mother Patience's garden.  "Yes, my love," he said, "I
surrender.  My body is yours; my mind constantly seeks ways to pleasure
you; my soul is linked to yours for eternity."  As a spent wave washed in
around them, they held each other tightly in their arms, fearful that if
they let go, the dream might disappear."

Arnold finally forced his way to his feet, reached down, and helped Hugh to
rise.  They stood there in the brilliant sunlight, their arms around each
other, the water cascading off their flesh.  "It grows hot, my beautiful
Hugh.  Let us take our blanket and repair to that clearing where the tree
line begins."  Collecting their clothing scattered across the beach,
spreading their blanket out on the soft grass in the shade of the trees,
they lay, looking back at the ocean and feeling at peace with themselves
and with the world.  "Why do you sniff my hair, Jeremiah?  What do you
smell?" Hugh inquired.  "I smell the ocean.  I smell the trees that protect
this bower and the exotic flowers that decorate it.  I smell the manly and
fair intoxicating scent that is you.  l smell my love for you that is again
rising in my loins," the mate of the Eagle responded, a quiet, unfathomable
smile on his lips.  With that, he began to kiss his love's body, pausing
now and again to nibble and to lick.  Within minutes, the gorgeous young
seaman was again on fire, his head thrown back, his mouth open, his
breathing labored, his proud cock engorged...pulsing...  dripping.  "Take
me, Jeremiah!" the beautiful youth implored.  "I am yours...yours alone.
Mark me with your love!"  After preparing the boy's virgin body, Arnold
masterfully did exactly as he was bidden, thrusting repeatedly deep into
his love and covering him with kisses.  The powerful young body that lay
under him responded as if in a primal ballet.  Their moans, their whispered
caresses, and, in time, their screams of fulfillment merged with the
tropical winds.

"What is to become of us in this cruel world, Jeremiah?" the youth murmured
as he lay with his head cradled against his lover's breast.  "I know not,
my beloved," the proud officer responded.  "I have never decided whether
life is in the hands of God - or is a plaything of chance.  I only know
that we have each other now...at this very minute...and that we must make
the most of it.  But see you those wisps of rose and gold that color the
western sky.  The carriage will soon return.  It is time for us to return
to the harbor, always remembering this day."

(By Fire and Sword)

During the year 1777, the Eagle ravaged British shipping in the Lesser
Antilles, i.e., the eastern Caribbean.  Even ships headed for islands in
the western Caribbean were intercepted.  Try as they might, British
warships were unable to corner the powerful raider, and the pleas of
British merchants (and their losses) mounted steadily.  Most of the ships
were taken into Martinique, though one large ship - barely seaworthy after
resisting the Eagle - was escorted into Guadeloupe.  Captain Coffee was
convinced that the authorities there tried to cheat him.  When that visit
also saw a sailor murdered in a bordello scuffle and another knifed on the
streets of Pointe-a-Pitre, he never returned.

To many of the crew, including Jeremiah Arnold, the Captain's behavior was
becoming increasingly cruel.  Shipboard floggings increased - and for the
slightest offenses.  At the same time, the ship suffered, for the Captain
spent long, solitary periods in his cabin.  After nearly a year at sea, for
instance, there were gaps in the ship's company.  Losses in any one
incident were light, but when a crew numbers only 130, small losses mount
up.  Coffee absolutely refused to listen to the pleas of seamen on captured
ships to sign on with the Eagle.  In several cases, men were able to
produce papers that at least suggested they were Americans.  It made no
difference.  In the case of the one ship that floundered after stoutly
resisting the sloop, the bosun's mates almost had a mutiny on their hands.
The Captain watched impassively as sharks attacked the screaming, weeping
remnants of the crew who struggled in the water as they begged the Captain
for their lives.  Only the threat of the cat - and the drawn guns of his
picked sharpshooters - held his own seamen at bay.  At that, he had two men
cruelly flogged whom he called, with little reason that Arnold could
discern, "ringleaders."

During all of this, Hugh Allen grew in stature and in knowledge.  After
only a year, he could read more effectively than any seaman on the Eagle
with the possible exception of the bosun.  He could handle the basic
computational chores of any officer - and, though he hated doing so, he
could write with a fair hand.  Though surprised at how quickly the time had
come, Jeremiah had begun to introduce him to the nautical arts, especially
the art of navigation.  In battle, his growth was even more marked.  Though
the 17 year-old had only grown another inch or so in height, he grew
significantly stronger.  As the year passed, he became the acknowledged
leader of the boarding parties.  No man on board the Eagle was his equal
with the cutlass or the hatchet; few, with the pistol. "Yaller Hair," as
the British called him, actually had a price put on his head by the
Governors of several British islands.  Many of Hugh's fellow seamen -
especially the younger set that included the redheaded Jeremy Stuart -
began to see him as a good luck charm, adopting his mannerisms and even his
dress in battle.  (The Captain was not especially taken with his penchant
for canvas shorts and nothing else, but he was not about to interfere with
success.)

Though the War was not going all that well for the Americans during the
early years, there were breaks in the gloom that suggested something better
might lie ahead.  For instance, on November 17, 1776, the American
brig-of-war, the "Andrew Doria", sailed into the harbor of St.  Eustatius,
a Dutch possession in the Lesser Antilles, firing its 13-gun salute
indicating America's long sought independence. The 11-gun salute reply,
roaring from the canons at Fort Oranje under the command of Governor
Johannes deGraaff, established the Dutch as the first foreigners to
officially recognize the newly formed United States of America.  In June of
1777, the Eagle, proudly flying Old Glory, followed.  Again, the Dutch
welcome was clear and unequivocal.  If only the powerful British naval base
at Antigua had not been so close, Captain Coffee would have delighted in
bringing some prizes into Oranjestad.  The terms offered were generous
indeed.

No men onboard the Eagle were sadder that the British were too close to
St. Eustatius than Jeremiah and Hugh.  On one short leave, for instance,
they hiked on the little 5x2-mile island all the way down to the 2000-foot
dormant volcano on the southern end of the island, delighting in the
tropical rainforest that they found in its interior.  Spreading their
trusty blanket on the bed of the drier forest further up the slope,
Jeremiah also found that Hugh had grown more assertive in other ways!  "You
have tutored me well, dear Jeremiah," Hugh had said as Arnold took him by
the shoulders and began to press him down onto the blanket.  "Now it is
time for me to show my gratitude."  With that, the naked warrior had lifted
his beloved companion high into the air, twirled him around, deposited him
gently on the blanket, and demonstrated his various competencies!  Had it
not been for a good-sized iguana that scurried across his calves as he
thrust into Jeremiah, Hugh argued, it would have been a perfect afternoon.
Although Jeremiah complained that he couldn't walk comfortably for a week,
he always agreed...lizard or no lizard!  Besides, as he pointed out, it was
a vegetarian!

(The Great Gale of October 1777)

Dawn on October 7, 1777 - ten days before the Revolution turned in
America's favor with the surrender of General Burgoyne at Saratoga - found
Hugh on duty.  For some hours, he had known that something was
"different"...and, intuitively, very, very wrong.  The light, for instance,
was "brassy;" the air, electric, fetid, and portentous.  Within an hour,
the officers and men of the Eagle saw it coming.  Closely following a
captured brigantine, the Eagle was approaching the Martinique coast and
Fort-Royal under all possible sail.  Heavy, dark clouds suddenly filled the
western skies, lowering, and filled with lightening.  Arnold quickly
reduced sail and ordered the men out of the rigging.

The storm hit the Eagle like a stone wall, visibility falling to zero
within seconds.  Neither the island nor the captured brig could be seen.
The air was filled with spray - to be on deck was to be under water!  For
the rest of their lives, men on the Eagle that morning remembered the
shrieking winds, the immense waves that came out of nowhere, and the vivid
flashes of lightening and booming thunder.  The 110-foot, 400-ton craft was
knocked around fiercely.  One of the last youngsters out of the rigging
caught his lower arm between lines.  Volunteering, Hugh leapt into the
rigging despite the lightening and, on Arnold's orders, cut the lines
loose.  When he brought the boy down to the deck some distance below.
Jeremy Stuart, his close shipmate, tied a tourniquet on his upper arm, and
he was carried below, his forearm a mess of broken bones, mangled flesh,
and blood.

As a second cell hit the Eagle, she nearly capsized, but righted at the
last moment.  As the ship crashed into an immense wave, Captain Coffee
finally appeared on deck.  Disheveled, wild- eyed, standing in shock for a
moment or two, he shrieked that all was lost and retreated to his cabin.
During all of this, Mr. Arnold was an absolute rock, calmly standing on the
quarterdeck, giving such orders as needed to be given, working with the
helmsman to maneuver the ship, and ordering all nonessential men below.
(In some ways, it was probably easier to be on deck, for below she was
filled with men buffeted about, many of them injured in the process.  Many
a ship's boy and no few men unused to such seas were also vomiting their
insides out!)  Single- handedly, Hugh worked quietly with Arnold's
sufferance to save several men of the deck crew.  Indeed, as the storm
increased in ferocity and giant waves swept across the decks as the Eagle
tacked, he almost lost his own life.  Grabbing the arm of a lad who had
been swept over the gunwale and was clinging to a rope on the side, he
almost followed the youth as another wave hit him from behind.  Had it not
been for three shipmates who came to their rescue, one of the great heroes
of the gale would have been lost.

As the second (and last major) cell of the gale passed, all hands could see
that the brig had run onto rocks that lay fairly close to the shore.  The
immense seas and the windswept downpour that continued made it impossible
to determine the condition of the men who had been on board.  Fearing that
a third cell might strike at any moment, Arnold skillfully, albeit it with
great difficulty, eased the Eagle into the harbor.  In addition to 19
injuries, some serious, four sailors died on the Eagle, including Jeremy's
buddy whose forearm had to be amputated.  He had died of shock, loss of
blood and, perhaps, internal injuries suffered as he dangled by his forearm
from the lines that trapped him and was slammed by the wind into the mast.
Hugh encountered his boyhood friend as he sat sorting through the
youngster's possessions.  As best he could, he comforted him, wishing in
vain that he could simply take him into his arms.

About an hour later, the guard always posted at the door to Captain
Coffee's cabin, reported to Mr. Arnold that he had heard strange noises
from inside.  Using one of his mate's keys, the men entered to find that
the Captain had apparently taken his own life with a pistol shot into his
troubled brain.  After a discussion among the sloops' major officers,
Jeremiah Arnold assumed the captaincy of the Eagle.  With their unanimous
agreement - rare given his age, though not his accomplishments - he named
Hugh as his new mate.  Announced to the crew, they broke into spontaneous
cheers for the new captain.  A voice in the back of the throng - whose
voice Hugh knew well - led three cheers for the uniformly popular and
respected new mate, "Mr.  Yaller Hair."  Coffee would have had someone
flogged for "disrespect." Captain Arnold offered not a word of criticism,
though he personally always referred to him as "Mr. Allen."  Hugh, who
resolutely refused to wear an officer's uniform, had some problems taking
the salute of the men in subsequent days - especially those of the old
salts - but with Arnold's support and counsel, he weathered the storm.

The Captain ended the burial ceremony by saying that the British would not
allow the continuing decimation of their merchant fleet.  The Eagle had to
expect a major military response by the Royal Navy in the near future.  He
also said that he knew his Newport and Portsmouth lads would do their duty.
He and Hugh, whose mate's cubbyhole adjoined the Captain's cabin, did
theirs that night - and nearly every night thereafter.


(To be Continued)