Date: Thu, 2 Jun 2005 11:19:34 -0400
From: edcwriter@yahoo.com
Subject: FOR GOD & COUNTRY - 6

FOR GOD & COUNTRY - 6

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 6

(Revisiting Chapter 5)

Within another day, the Philadelphia was ready to return to sea, her orders
calling for her to resume duties off Georgia and the Carolinas after
completing her foray into the Greater Antilles.  The Eagle left early the
next morning, disrupting commercial shipping all the way across the
Caribbean until the British were fair out of their minds.  Was this a GHOST
ship?

(Continuing Our Story - The Attack on St. Eustatius)

Jeremiah had barely completed tying up at the dock in Fort-Royal,
Martinique, when he allowed Thaddeus Longley to resign and leave the
Eagle. Other than his personal possessions and a few dollars of "tiding
over" money, he was allowed to take nothing - nor did any man jack on board
bid him Godspeed.  He did nothing to Tom Clarke even though he had harmed
his beloved Hugh.  That was Captain Coffee's business (see Chapter 2).  The
young man had suffered for his transgressions and had given no further
difficulty once he was physically able to rejoin the crew.  Indeed, he had
manfully apologized to Hugh and begged his forgiveness.  "Sufficient unto
the day . . ." Jeremiah Arnold thought.)

After paying his respects to the Governor and making arrangements for the
selling of his prizes and the addition of the captured British gold to his
growing store of treasure, he learned that the area on the verge of a major
conflagration.  French intelligence had determined that the British were
making ready to launch a preemptive strike against St. Eustatius as one
step in choking off American privateers in the Leewards.  (As is the case
with all imperialist powers - even today - international law is observed
only when it is "convenient" to do so.)  As soon as his men had enjoyed a
short leave and the Eagle was fully provisioned and supplied, he set sail
for the Dutch island.

Receiving the usual respectful...even friendly...greeting at Organjestad
and letting Hugh know what he was about to do, the Captain left for an
appointment with Governor deGraff.  Though highly dangerous, given the
powerful Royal Navy base on nearby Antigua, Captain Arnold offered the
Dutch Governor his assistance.  "And what fee are you suggesting for this
service?"  Governor deGraff inquired in his usual business-like tone.
"There is no fee, Your Excellency," Jeremiah replied.  "You welcomed the
first two ships of my new country into your harbor and paid them the
respect due vessels of a sovereign power.  Personally, you have treated us
with nothing but friendship and honor.  True friends always wish to reply
in kind.  There is no fee, sir," he repeated.  Smiling softly - and,
perhaps, with just a touch of relief that help was at hand - the Governor
called for refreshments and asked that Kapitein Willem De Vries be summoned
to his office.

Placing his glass of fine Genever or Hollands (a strong gin quite unlike
the English variety...  more like a juniper-flavored schnapps) on the small
table in front of them, Governor deGraff observed that the Dutch asked no
man to do what they were themselves unwilling to do.  "I am placing my
naval officer, Kapitein De Vries, under your command.  Kapitein, if you
will describe our plans for welcoming the British."  "Yes, sir," the
officer answered respectfully.  "We have at our disposal the brigantine
Maasstad of 12 guns and a host of smaller craft.  All are equipped with
numerous swivel guns.  The garrison at Fort de Windt on the south shore has
been significantly reinforced with infantry and dragoons.  Any troops that
reach shore will receive a warm welcome."  When he said nothing more,
Jeremiah inquired softly, "And the British, sir?"  We expect that the
British fleet will consist of two new frigates of 36 and 48 guns
respectively and, possibly...the intelligence is unclear...a ship of the
line that mounts 90 guns plus carronades.  In addition to numerous smaller
craft, there will be two troopships charged with landing approximately 1000
troops on our shore.  They will find that we do not sell our lives
lightly."  "Indeed," Jeremiah replied, "indeed."  Standing and bowing
respectfully to the Governor, Arnold continued, "Kapitein De Vries, I
wonder if you would do me the great courtesy of allowing me to see the
Maasstad.  Then, I should be honored if you would inspect the Eagle, at
which time I would share a few ideas for your consideration."  With
appropriate courtesies, the two men rose and departed the Governor's
offices.  "You brave Dutchmen!" Jeremiah muttered to himself as they left
the building.

Returning from the Maasstad where he was able to see what was available and
speak with several officers who spoke a fair amount of English, Arnold and
his guest, joined by the young Captain of the Maasstad, boarded the Eagle.
The men were drawn up for inspection...  respectful...clean...competent.
After inspecting the crew, Jeremiah and the Dutch officers spoke briefly to
the assembled men.  "Tomorrow, men," Arnold began, "a large force of
British ships and troops will attempt to conquer this brave little island.
They have no cause that is just, but Newport and Portsmouth men know they
need none.  We come here as friends.  Will we fight beside our Dutch
brothers?"  A roar of assent rose from the men gathered in the waist of the
ship and manning the rigging.  Arnold turned towards Kapitein De Vries,
bowed slightly, and asked him if he would like to address the crew.  The
Dutchman's remarks were brief.  "Your Captain calls us 'brothers'.  I
welcome that title on behalf of my people.  Thank you for being here to
stand beside us against the oppressor.  Know that each and every one of you
will always be welcome in our towns and in our homes!"  With that, both he
and the Captain of the Maasstad saluted the crew which burst into wild
cheers.  Arnold guided the party to his cabin where a pleasant luncheon was
laid out and plans were made for the morrow.

Well before dawn the little flotilla sailed from Oranjestad Bay and made
its way towards the southern end of St. Eustatius.  They were just
approaching Fort de Windt when the sun made its first appearance and the
British fleet was sighted.  "There are the two frigates - mean looking
bastards," Hugh mumbled as he looked through his telescope.  "I also see
the two troopships and, perhaps, a couple of dozen smaller craft - but
where in hell is the ship of the line?"  (In fact, the British Governor
General on Antigua had personally overruled his Admiral and ordered the
90-gun warship to remain at Antigua "for protection."  "Besides," he had
added with a sneer, "the 'St. Eustatius Navy' was not likely to give his
large force any serious opposition.") "We'll see her when we see her,"
Jeremiah grunted.  "The sun is in their eyes, not ours.  Signal the smaller
craft to move into position to intercept their longboats.  The Maasstad
knows that she is to remain with us."

There was no fear onboard the frigates as they saw and identified the
Eagle.  Indeed, their officers chortled that they were finally in position
to destroy her!  They did, however, move on a course more parallel to the
beaches so as better to protect the troopships that were already disgorging
hordes of troops into longboats.  Protected by smaller and apparently
well-armed craft, the first wave was already moving towards the shore.
Arnold approached the two powerful frigates on a slightly oblique course.
As the time for firing approached, the 36-gun (following) frigate suddenly
fell off and lost headway.  (No Admiralty inquiry ever established the
reason. A sudden gust of wind?  A momentary loss of concentration on the
part of the helmsman?  Perhaps a reef that had suddenly been sighted...or a
rudder that malfunctioned.  No one was ever sure, for too many men who had
observed the incident were dead.)  In any case, a sizeable gap opened
between the two ships.  Arnold immediately raised a signal to the Maasstad
that has come down through the history of St. Eustatius: "VOLG ME, MOEDIGE
NEDERLANDERS!" ["Follow me, brave Dutchmen!"] Veering straight into the
British line, he and the brigantine sailed BETWEEN the two frigates, each
of their 32 guns spewing death and destruction as it came to bear on hull,
deck, sails, and rigging.  In fact, the Eagle offered the enemy a somewhat
richer present.  Four of its guns and their crews had been readied to fire
"hot shot," i.e., cannonballs heated until they glowed as if on fire.
Trained crews prepared the cannon and loaded the balls.  All four balls
smashed into the frigates, two into the front of the 36, two into the rear
of the 48.  Smoke quickly appeared on both ships.  Thrown into no little
confusion by the unexpected developments, their men scrambled to clear
their decks and fight the fires.  As the Eagle and the Maasstad came about,
part of their problem was... removed.  Evidently, a major fire on the
larger frigate had quickly spread and reached the magazine.  With a roar
akin to that of an exploding volcano, the ship simply came apart, spewing
bits of debris...human and nonhuman...in every direction.  The flaming
remnants sank below the waves within 15 seconds.  The Eagle was about to
approach the remaining vessel that still appeared to be in some confusion
and experiencing handling problems.  When she gave clear signs that she was
preparing to come about and head back to Antigua, the Eagle let her go.
("A wounded lion can do too much damage when other prizes - and
responsibilities - abound," Arnold thought.)  Ordering the brigantine to
help the smaller Dutch craft that were occupied with the longboats and
their escorts, the Eagle turned on the troopships.  As one quickly joined
the damaged frigate that was creeping off towards the north and the safety
of Antigua, she pounded the second into a flaming wreck.  When it began to
founder, she joined the Maasstad.  Few longboats - or swimming soldiers -
reached the shore, and they were quickly rounded up by Dutch land forces.
Three small Dutch boats had been lost; both the Eagle and the Maasstad had
sustained light damage that did not affect their seaworthiness.  The allied
armada suffered a total of 27 dead (only three on the Eagle); British
losses were estimated at well over 700 seamen and soldiers, with another 75
captured on land.  The larger of their new frigates, a troopship, at least
a dozen escorts, and countless longboats lay on the bottom of the ocean or
floated as debris on the surface.  The men on the Dutch and American
vessels began wildly celebrating their total victory.

Suddenly, a frightening silence spread over the Eagle.  Just below the
quarterdeck, the men noticed that the Mate, tears flowing down his face,
was kneeling on the bloody deck, holding the Captain in his brawny arms and
kissing his lifeless lips.  A heavy oak splinter was lodged in Jeremiah's
chest.  A sobbing Jeremy Stuart knelt beside him, his naked arms flung
around Hugh's broad shoulders.  The men looked at each other in shock.  A
trusted captain's death was bad enough.  As regards the rest, they had
heard rumors and whispered comments, but even the worst of things can be
ignored - especially when their arms had been blessed with unending success
and their growing shares of rich prize money were secure in the vaults of
Martinique.  The scene before them could not be ignored.  They had been
commanded by queers - and others, whom they had respected and followed,
slept and worked among them.  What in God's name were they to do?  As Hugh
looked up, his face etched in pain, he suddenly became aware of the crew
crowding around him.  His brain registered their thoughts as clearly as if
they had been shouted from the quarterdeck.  An emotion that they had never
seen crossed his face.  They knew - and he was suddenly afraid.  The bosun
made his way over to the Mate, saluted, and quietly suggested that he and
Jeremy go to his quarters and allow the men to sort things out.  "'Tis
best, sir, 'tis best," he murmured, not unkindly.

The finely honed crew of the Eagle, used to obeying orders, responded
quickly to the calm voice of the old bosun, Ephraim Candy.  When the
Maasstad approached, having noticed the sudden disorder on the Eagle, Candy
assured the Dutch that everything was under control.  There had been an
"incident," but they would soon be underway.  Would the Maasstad kindly
gather the smaller Dutch craft and escort them back to Oranjestad.  They
would follow shortly.  With some misgivings, Kapitein De Vries honored the
request.

First insuring that the big sloop was safe and that lookouts were posted,
Candy ordered the ship anchored and gathered the men in the waist of the
ship.  He knew well that the safety of both the Eagle and its crew depended
on a new Captain and Mate being selected without delay.  There were far too
many dangers in these waters, he reasoned, to do otherwise.  "Very well,"
he spoke firmly as he stood on the bulkhead, "each of you may speak -
though there will be order!"

"Allen's queer - and so's his buddy.  'Tain't natural!  Send them to the
brig and put them off the ship at Martinique!" shouted a voice from the
crew.  "Aye," echoed a few voices.  "Avast, ye cockroaches!" shouted an old
bosun's mate, the scars on his mutilated face burning red in anger.  "I've
got more gold waiting me in Martinique than I've had on any voyage in my
life!  Who made that possible?"  "Well, Israel," the previous speaker
answered, "Think of how much more you'll have when we divide up the Captain
and the Mate's share!"  Grumbles spread throughout the company.  This
wasn't the way they did business, and everyone knew it.  A heavyset former
farmer from Portsmouth pushed his way to the front of the group and had his
say.  "I be no stinkin' pirate, you codshead!  We sail under warrant from
the Governor of Rhode Island to fight for our families and our homes
against the British.  Maybe this be a privateer and no stuck-up navy
frigate, but I be no pirate!"  "You tell 'em, Glen," a voice called out.
Isolated voices began to call out in support of Glen.  Hadn't the men been
treated with respect - something not common in the navies of the period?
Who had felt the lash of the cat under Jeremiah and Hugh?  How many times
had they defeated the despoilers of their homeland, outsailing them at
every turn, outfoxing them with clever ruses, and striking terror into
their hearts?  Who had saved them during the great gale of '77?  Who had
suffered torture at the hands of the pirates on their behalf?  And did
their officers skulk on the quarterdeck during attacks, allowing the men to
take the casualties - or did they lead the attack?

Didn't they feel right about the respect that their officers had brought
them...the respect of the French, the Spanish, and the Dutch...even the
British?  After all, who had honorably saved lives - even the lives of the
enemy - when possible?  Wasn't that the kind of officer they wanted to sail
under?  In fact, hadn't they cheered them as "the best officers who fought
under our new flag"?

A little golden-haired ship's boy pushed his way to the front and climbed
up on another boy's shoulders.  "Ship's boys ain't got no vote," a voice
cried out.  "Give way to your betters!"  The young'un appealed to the
bosun.  "Bosun, I may not have a vote, but do I have a say?  "Every man
jack among us...and every boy," the bosun growled, "got a say as long as
there's order.  Speak out, Harry!"  "Is there any ship's boy on this deck,"
Harry asked, "who has been forced to do something he didn't feel was
right...maybe something sexual," he added in growing embarrassment.  A
brown-haired young sailor came up beside Harry, lifted him down off Eddie's
shoulders, and stood with his arm around the waif.  "Let me ask the same
question of the young sailors," Andy Browne said firmly.  "Has any young
tar on this ship ever been forced to submit to an officer's...perversions -
or has he even HEARD the suggestion that 'servicing' him was desired or
might bring...advantages?"  Several of the older men were seen whispering
to their buddies.  "Speak up!" the bosun ordered.  "Aye, Bosun," one of the
men, probably in his late 30s, spoke up.  "When I was a young pup, you had
to go to sleep at night with one eye open and watching your ass!  That's
not the way it is on the Eagle!"  Snorts and cries of "Jack's right!"
popped up throughout the company.

A giant of a man climbed up on the gunnel and, holding onto a line,
demanded to be heard.  The respected ship's blacksmith - senior,
responsible for heating the red hot cannonballs that had shattered the two
British frigates - commanded their respect and the group fell silent.
"What I am hearing is that our officers have brought us piles of money,
brought us respect, led the way against the enemy, and treated us like
human beings rather than cattle. Every man jack on the Eagle owes his life
to Mr. Allen.  As far as Jeremy Stuart goes, he's his buddy and even I
wouldn't want to go up against him with a cutlass.  For God's sake,
shipmates, what they do in their own cabins is their own damned business -
as long as it isn't forced on others or embarrasses the ship's company.
And that hasn't happened - and NOBODY has said it has," he added grimly.
"I want a vote - ALLEN FOR CAPTAIN AND STUART FOR MATE!"  A roar arose from
the assembled men.  "Aren't we supposed to have a second?" a die-hard
ship's lawyer called out.  "I second it," Tom Clarke spoke up timorously.
Several men looked at him suspiciously, but - apparently deciding that he
had paid his debt - let it go.  "Vote!" the cries began to ascend.

"There will be a vote," the bosun intoned formally.  One by one, the seamen
were polled. When it had been completed, he announced that 97 men had voted
aye; two men hadn't voted.  He said that he would get the new Captain and
Mate.  Moments later, to tumultuous cheers, he emerged on the quarterdeck
with Hugh and Jeremy.  (Nothing was ever said of the short conversation in
the Mate's cabin where they had been waiting.)  "Mr. Allen" ("Captain
Yaller Hair," he added to the merriment of the crew) "and Mr. Stuart, do
you accept your election as Captain and Mate of the Eagle?"

"Beyond thanking you, I cannot say much right now," Hugh said to the
assembled men.  "My heart is too full.  Besides we have work to do!  Let's
weigh anchor and get this ship on her way to Oranjestad!"  The men fell to
work with a vengeance.  The Eagle was back on course!

The Eagle entered the harbor in Oranjestad Bay to the wildest celebration
that the little island had ever seen.  As soon as the sloop was docked, it
was overrun by exuberant citizens bearing food and drink.  Pretty girls
were everywhere - and the tars panted to be released to join them in the
local bars.  After some order had been restored and one watch had been
released, Hugh and Jeremy, accompanied by Kapitein De Vries, made their way
to Government House.  The Governor sorrowed in Jeremiah's death, but
gloried in the victory over the British armada.  Investing Hugh in a wide
orange sash and large bejeweled medal, he embraced both of the two young
Newporters.  "Anything you ever want in this colony is yours for the
asking, you know?"  he inquired.  "Yes, Your Excellency," Hugh replied.
"We know that we are among friends."  At first light," the Governor
continued, "our most experienced carpenters and other artisans will be at
your call to complete repairs on the Eagle.  They will work - without fee -
until the task is completed.  Fortunately, St. Eustatius has warehouses
full of naval supplies and you will want for nothing."  Nor did they.  Oh,
yes, the men complained bitterly the next morning that the Genever gin and
the other forms of Dutch rotgut were "deadly," but sailors always complain,
yes?  Asked if the rest of their evening had been...satisfactory, they
merely touched their knuckles to their forelocks and grinned widely.  Hugh
returned their grins, though he remembered well that all he could do that
night (and several nights thereafter) was to cling to Jeremy, praying that
his heart would cease bleeding.  Before they sailed from Oranjestad, they
were shown plans for a new statue that would grace the town's main square,
facing the harbor.  A remarkable likeness of Jeremiah stood in a heroic
pose on a pedestal that bore his name, the dates of his life, and his
immortal words, "VOLG ME, MOEDIGE NEDERLANDERS!"  It stood proudly until
destroyed by the British when they occupied the little island not long
thereafter.  It still stands in the hearts of proud men and women who
understand friendship and desire freedom.

(Captain Yaller Hair)

Hugh departed St. Eustatius as soon as he deemed the Eagle ready to fight
again.  No coward, it was still true that the last thing he was anxious to
see outside the harbor was that British ship of the line, probably
accompanied by a refurbished frigate and God knows what else!  Besides,
over the time he had served as Jeremiah's second, he had developed his own
agenda, and it was time to set it in motion.

On the fourth morning, to the cheers of half the island's population, they
set sail for Martinique.  Captain Yaller Hair's first order of business was
to return to the area south of Fort de Windt when the major action had
taken place.  A short but dignified service was held for the three brave
men of the Eagle who had given their lives for God and Country.  To the
surprise of some, he then dropped flowers on the spot when the British 48
had blown up.

Reaching Fort-Royal, Hugh began a process that would take him to several
ports in the Caribbean over the next few weeks.  Part of his plan was to
quickly fill the 30 or so spots in the Eagle's roster that had fallen open,
mainly due to death in battle, with the very best sailors he could find,
young or old.  After paying his respects to local authorities, he commonly
set up interviews with American sailors who were "on the beach."  (Indeed,
some had been landlocked since the beginning of the Revolution!)  Men
wanted jobs - and, another powerful motivator, they wanted to sail on the
legendary Eagle!  It didn't take many drinks in a few bars for the word to
get around. Sometimes, an official, a businessman, or even another sailor
made a recommendation; sometimes men simply showed up at an announced time
at an announced location.  Commonly, Jeremy or the bosun - joined by a
younger sailor or an old salt, depending on the candidate - conducted these
screening interviews.  When the initial list had been culled, the names
were checked with the local authorities.  The most likely candidates met
with Hugh.

It was in Willemstad (on Curacao, a Dutch island off the Venezuelan coast)
that the Captain was having a drink with a nice guy whom he had finally
decided not to hire.  A black-haired kid showed up - clearly an early teen
- bare feet, tattered shirt and slops barely holding together, nervously
twisting a knitted cap in his hands and, though he stood off well to the
side, obviously wanting to speak with Hugh.  After the previous candidate
had sadly departed, Hugh waved the youth over to him.

"I'm Hugh Allen of the American sloop Eagle, young'un.  Who are you - and
what can I do for you?"  "I'm Zeb Pearce, Cap'n," the boy answered, raising
his knuckle to his forelock.  "Everyone in Curacao knows who you are, sir.
Any berths left?"  "I'm afraid you're a little late, Zeb.  We've finished
here in Curacao and sail tonight.  Why didn't you meet with my Mate
yesterday or this morning at the 'Shark's Tooth' like the signs said?"  The
boy turned pale and tottered on unsteady legs.  Hugh immediately rose and
helped the lad to sit down in a chair at his table.  His rags - and the boy
himself - were covered with lice.  The Captain gestured and food and mild
drink were immediately set in front of the youth.  He barely had strength
to respond, but, then, he was a teenager.  Like teenagers the world over,
he would have reached a hand out of his coffin to grab a last morsel of
FOOD!  When the trencher and the mug were empty, Captain Yaller Hair asked
Zeb to explain.

A little color having returned to his face, the youngster admitted that he
hadn't made the earlier interviews because he had just been released from
an overnight stay in the jail.  (For the time being, Hugh let that go.)  It
seems that he had shipped as a ship's boy with his father on a merchantman
out of Portland, Maine, that had been taken by the British two years
before.  Their lifeboat had made Curacao where they had been ever since.
His father had died of the fever shortly thereafter.  "In the name of God,
boy, how have you survived?" Hugh gasped.  "Well, sir," Zeb answered, "I
worked for a while in a small store; I've worked in some of the gin mills;
I even tried to work on the docks, but I'm still too small.  As his face
colored, he burst into tears and cried, "Oh, Cap'n Allen, I done anything I
had to in order to stay alive!"  Hugh stood and held out his arms to the
boy.  As the youngster tried to rise, he promptly collapsed on his face
onto the floor.  Hugh picked him up, lice and all, and carried him out of
the bar.

Zeb came too some hours later.  Though it was dark, he realized that he was
tucked into a small bunk onboard a ship that was underway.  He also knew he
didn't have a stitch on his body, but it didn't matter.  He was clean, he
was warm, and he was safe.  A guy about his own age named Eddie fed him a
few spoonfuls of soup and he fell back asleep.  When he awoke, a really
good looking older guy named Jeremy - the Mate of the Eagle, it turned out
- took him over to two big chests in his small cabin and helped him find a
clean pair of slops and a shirt.  When Eddie knocked on his door, he took
the boy to breakfast with several other younger teens on the Eagle.  Eddie
then returned him to the Captain's cabin and knocked on the door.  When a
voice from within bade him enter, Zeb knew instinctively that he should
have stood respectfully in front of the Captain's desk until spoken
to...but he couldn't.  Rather, he made a beeline for the yellow-haired
young man who sat at the desk, climbed into his lap, threw his arms around
him, and burst into tears.  Hugh just held the lad for a few minutes before
drawing back, wiping the tears from his face, and speaking with infinite
kindness.  "Mr. Stuart, the Mate, and I need a cabin boy, Zeb.  If you're
interested, the position is yours.  In time, you could work your way up and
even become a seaman."  The boy, probably early in his 14th year, slipped
down off Hugh's lap, came to rigid attention, and saluted.  "Yes, SIR!" he
answered, barely able to constrain his glee.  "I accept!  And, sir," he
added, "I learned a lot in Willemstad... a real lot.  I can
do...everything.  I'll take real good care of you and Jeremy!"  Hugh took
the boy back into his arms and kissed him on the forehead.  "Zeb, that's
not quite the way it works around here.  Mr. Stuart will explain your
duties, but no one is forced to do that kind of thing on the Eagle.  It's
enough...more than enough...for you to be our friend and shipmate.  Ok?"
"Ok," the confused boy murmured before quickly adding, "Thankee, sir!"

The stop in Cartagena was brief - only two days - but the ship's boys under
the protection of three husky, heavily armed seamen did get to see a bit of
the great fortress - and have lunch at a Spanish restaurant!  Strange food,
but they all agreed that it was real good!  Leaving the Spanish port, they
began one of the most intensive weeks since the Eagle entered the
Caribbean.  Slowly, 29 new shipmates - and a grinning, laughing cabin boy -
were integrated into a proud and efficient crew.  The men were relieved.
Captain Allen had clearly passed his first test.  Not only had he involved
the men in choosing the newcomers, he had made excellent decisions.  Every
one of the newcomers was both a superior sailor and a guy they would have
chosen as a shipmate.  Zeb Pearce, of course, was in Seventh Heaven.  Not
only were the Captain and the Mate's cabins always shipshape, he usually
had them in hysterics with his antics.  He WAS mischievous!  Everyone on
the quarterdeck, for instance, just about broke up one evening when he
suddenly appeared dressed in a great ape skin that he had found in one of
the trunks in Jeremy's cabin.  Trouble was, he hadn't put anything on under
it - and he was growing...fast!  A fun kid!  Eddie, the oldest of the
ship's boys, especially agreed, for they had become fast friends.

When the shakedown cruise had fulfilled its purposes, Hugh put into a cove
on a quiet, deserted island in the southern Caribbean.  There was fresh
water; there were long white beaches and great palms; there were even
peccaries and shellfish for a little relief on the menu.  For two full
days, the men were allowed to laze in the sun, hike, play in the water, and
do whatever else their hearts desired.  One afternoon, for instance, Hugh
and Jeremy sat propped up against a palm tree in the shade, watching a
group of the younger men in a rough and tumble game they were playing with
a bladder they had found in the galley and inflated.  "I'm tired of this
Captain stuff," Hugh muttered, pulled Jeremy to his feet, and jogged over
to the group, asking if they might join in.  (He also grabbed Tom Clarke
who sat alone, watching from a nearby palm, and brought him with them.)
"Watch it, Cap'n," one of the hands yelled.  "This game gets kinda rough!"
The young men soon found that Hugh and Jeremy had INVENTED the word
"rough"!  That night - around a great campfire, an enormous Caribbean moon
illuminating the night, gnawing peccary ribs, munching on a Caribbean
variety of lobster tails, and swigging beer that Hugh had mysteriously
produced from a hold and cooled in a stream - the crew of the Eagle was
back as one.

(Becky the Terrible) The Eagle could not possibly have returned to the
Leewards at a more opportune time.  The British were still stinging from
their defeat at St. Eustatius and, more, were in turmoil over
 rumors that the French fleet under Admiral de Grasse (now in Martinique)
was preparing to attack Antigua.  Unable to spare either a frigate or his
one ship of the line, the British Governor General entrusted his wife, Lady
Agatha (related to the last Royal Governor of Georgia and several other
prominent "Friends of the King" in that Loyalist stronghold), and teenaged
daughter, Becky, to a fast "Jamaica sloop".  It would take them safely to
that impregnable island where Lady Agatha had relatives.  Unfortunately, he
did not count on French intelligence that was able to place the details of
its route in the hands of Captain Yaller Hair.  The Eagle was able to
surprise the sloop at night, damage her severely, and capture the two VIPs.
The Danes on St. Thomas in the Danish West Indies, the only colonial power
in the Caribbean that was relatively neutral, would inform the Governor
that his relatives would be returned...for a princely ransom.

As the proud Lady Agatha was hoisted onto the deck of the Eagle in a
bosun's chair, she properly feared for her virtue and, even more, that of
her young daughter.  Pirates...  You will imagine her surprise when she was
set down in the midst of a small honor guard that released her and politely
helped her to her feet.  Her daughter followed immediately and was accorded
the same courteous treatment.  Their luggage followed directly, and the
ship was underway.  The rest of the men on the deck were busy securing from
the recent action and paid them little heed.  The men stepped back as a
tall blond-haired man and a younger officer, properly dressed, approached.
Bowing low, the taller man said, "Good evening, Ladies. I am Captain Hugh
Allen of the American sloop of war Eagle, and this is my Mate, Jeremy
Stuart.  We regret the circumstances under which we meet, but we shall hope
that your stay with us will be mercifully brief.  Mr. Stuart and I will
endeavor to make it as comfortable as possible.  Looking around at the many
handsome young men that surrounded her, Becky was not completely sure that
she wanted it to be all that brief!  The British were so haughty and, with
exception, somewhat ugly.  These young men were so...fresh...so exciting!

"Unfortunately, Lady Agatha, this is a sloop," Hugh continued.  "I fear I
cannot offer you the accommodations that you would enjoy on a ship of the
line or even a frigate.  Nevertheless, if there is something you desire,
you need only ask.  After you have freshened up, would you care to join us
for light refreshments - or would you prefer to wait until morning?"  Ever
the realist, Lady Agatha answered politely.  "Thank you, Captain Allen, a
cup of tea would be most pleasant."  "Excellent.  Mr. Stuart, will you
kindly show Lady Agatha and her beautiful daughter to their quarters."
Jeremy smiled, bowed low, and asked the two women to follow him.  "Careful,
ladies, the passages are much lower than on larger ships," he murmured.  As
the Mate approached the door to his cabin, an armed guard saluted and
stepped to the side.  Opening the door, he saw that everything portable,
including Jeremiah's large trunks, had been moved...somewhere...and
replaced by their new guests' baggage and two small chairs.  "May I call
for you in, say, 45 minutes?" he asked.  "Yes, Mr. Stuart, that would be
satisfactory," Lady Agatha replied as the handsome mate bowed and
retreated.

"Mother!" Becky squealed. "They're so nice!"  "Well, after all, daughter,"
her mother replied, "they ARE the King's subjects - even though there are
'troubles' presently.  Come, let us make ourselves presentable."  "Mother!
Did you hear the Captain call me 'beautiful'?"  "Clearly, they are not
barbarians.  Now move, daughter."

When Lady Agatha and her daughter were shown into the Captain's cabin, a
cabin resplendent in candlelight and polished wood, they were greeted
cordially by Hugh and the Surgeon who had joined them.  Zeb Pearce stood in
front of Hugh, the Captain's arms over his shoulders.  After introducing
the Ladies to the ship's doctor, Hugh said, "You must also meet Zeb, our
favorite cabin boy who will also be serving you."  (A slight pinch reminded
the youngster to smile and bow.  He would have much preferred restricting
his services to his beloved Hugh and Jeremy, but if Hugh had told him to
jump into the ocean, he would have done so without question.)  A knock on
the door brought Andy Browne and Joe Lawrence (a stunningly handsome blond
19 year old) with silver trays of tea, pastries, and a flask of port.  Each
was dressed in a fresh white shirt, long trousers, and black shoes.  Becky
was close to fainting!

"Do you think they are worrying about their 'virtue'?" Jeremy chortled as
he cuddled up to Hugh after they have finally retired.  "Little do they
know, my beloved.  Little do they know!" Hugh giggled.  LITTLE DID THEY
KNOW, HOWEVER, WHAT LURKED IN THE HEART OF A FEMALE HURRICANE NAMED BECKY!


(To Be Continued)