History, Politics And Current Affairs

The four ships had been sailing north uneventfully for three weeks. The wind had been working against them most of the time. It was tedious and slow. Everybody aboard was happy with that. The two Allen's recruiting efforts had paid off handsomely. They had sufficient men aboard the two prizes to insure order and discipline.
This day was overcast, the water dull grey. Haze colored the air and cut visibility somewhat. From time to time it rained, the squalls were minor, but still forced them to plod along on reduced sail.
Allen spent most of the day in his cabin. From time to time he took a turn around the deck, or talked with whoever had the watch on the quarterdeck. But, mindful of keeping the crew happy and calm, he remained in what was considered his proper location. He was keeping an extensive journal, which occupied his time. It would leave a good record of the cruise, and gave him a private place to express the doubts that had begun the night they took the two prizes.
"Sail ho!"
The call from the masthead was distant, but still clear. He set his journal aside, stood and gathered a few things he would need, sword, pistol, telescope. Moments later the expected knock came at his door.
"Yes?"
"Mr. O'Reilly's compliments and could you come to the quarterdeck."
"Tell him I'm on my way."
"Aye aye, sir."
Allen smiled to himself. He wondered what O'Reilly would do if he refused to come on deck?
He shook his head. None of his three lieutenants would consider the joke funny.
"What do we have?"
"Begging your pardon, sir; I'm not sure. Have a look."
Allen took a long look through his telescope. The ship itself was clear enough. A two-masted bark with six gun ports along the rail. But the flag was like nothing he'd seen before. It was mostly yellow, with a darker square in one corner and a design in the middle.
"Is that some sort of company flag?"
"None I recognize."
Garibaldi joined them on the quarterdeck.
"Hear, take a look," Allen said, handing him the telescope, "is that flag something used in the Mediterranean?"
Garibaldi took a long look of his own.
"No. I have not seen such before."
"Well, let's go find out. I doubt he's going to give us any trouble. Signal father to continue his course. We'll take a little swing over and say hello."
The bark was coming done from the north, as Allen steered toward him the two ships were sailing nearly straight for each other. It didn't take long to close the gap. The drummer beat the crew to quarters, they would be alert if needed.
As they approached Allen saw the other captain put his speaking trumpet to his mouth.
"What ship is that?"
Allen looked at the other officers with him.
Cunningham shrugged, "Might as well tell him."
Allen raised his own speaking trumpet.
"Venus out of Boston."
"I thought so," came the reply, "heave to, I have news for you."
A pause.
"This is Franklin, out of Philedelphia."
"Ah ha!" Allen exclaimed, "she is, or at least was, owned by a friend of my father."
"Do you two know everybody?" Cunningham asked.
"Haven't you learned by now, everybody important knows us."
"Your standards of self-promotion are unmatched."
"I think I shall have you flogged."
As the others laughed, Allen turned and started giving the necessary orders. In short order the two ships lay side by side, bows into the wind. Ropes were tossed over and winched in, shortly the two ships were touching.
The other captain leaned over the rail of his quarterdeck so he and Allen could talk. For a moment they exchanged pleasantries, the other's name was Wilson. They quickly realized they had several mutual acquaintances.
Allen told the other man somewhat of their adventures in the Indies, without revealing too much of their captures. Wilson said he appreciated the information, but then added that there was more to the situation. He handed over a waterproof tube of the type that protects maps.
"You'll want to see this."
"What is it?"
Wilson smiled.
"Read it. It changes everything."
After a few more minutes of conversation the ropes were cast loose, and the two ships went their separate ways. Allen thought it a typical conversation between two captains at sea, except for the mysterious package he'd been given.
He went below, opened the map tube, before he had completely extracted the contents he could see that it was a printed broadsheet. How could this change everything? Had the colonies and the mother country resolved their disagreement?
No that was silly. Wilson was on a raiding expedition of his own.
Allen glanced at the document, and then sat heavily in his chair. He spread the broadsheet on his table and began reading. Then he read it again.
He walked to the cabin door and spoke to the aid standing guard.
"Have the crew assembled on deck."
The sound of the drum beat through the ship, men ran to the end portion of the spar deck, directly in front of the quarterdeck. The men formed rough lines, facing astern, looking at each other warily. Usually this was the prelude to witnessing punishment. Although they knew Captain Allen disliked the lash, it was not unknown on Venus. But no one was missing. They would have noticed a prisoner gone from their ranks.
Allen smiled ruefully as he stepped to the rail at the front of the quarterdeck, the heads of the men lined up a couple of yards forward of his feet. He could remember standing in a similar position on a different ship. For a sailor it was rarely good news, a whipping with the cat o'nine tails, a change in officers, sometimes a hanging.
"Stand easy men, no one is in trouble."
If any of them moved, it was imperceptible.
"We have news, something that I thought I should read to you in its entirety."
He held up the broadsheet and began reading in a strong formal voice.
"In Congress, July Fourth, Seventeen Hundred and Seventy-Six.
"The unanimous declaration of the thirteen united States of America.
"When in the course of human events..."
It took some time to read the document, the men listened raptly as he read, first a stirring and poetic preface, then a long list of grievances against King George, finally concluding with "we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor."
The was a moment of silence. For an instant Allen was afraid his men did not understand the import of what he'd read.
Then from the back row of sailors a deep voice boomed out.
"God save the united States of America!"
A cheer ran through the assembled men, hats were raised, and the cry was taken up by a number of men. Allen jumped at the report of a pistol next to him. He turned to see Cunningham laughing at his discomfort, smoke still trailing from the muzzle of his upraised weapon.
Allen let the celebration continue for a minute or two before ordering the men back to their stations.
"Garibaldi, make arrangements for this to be transferred to Mary Jane as soon as we rejoin the squadron. My father needs to see it. Then the three of you meet me in my cabin."
###
"Well, it's almost a proper squadron, isn't it?"
Garibaldi was clearly enjoying himself. As were the rest of the men. The four ships paraded into Boston harbor in a neat line, Venus leading the way. Other ships dipped their flags or fired salutes, men cheered. At the mast heads of the two prizes the patriot colors waved above the British Union, clearly marking their status.
It all contributed to Allen's unease, which he was trying to keep hidden from the others. He tried to shrug it off and enjoy himself, as the others were doing.
"Yes, we have a nice little flotilla here. I expect we shall enjoy the fruits of our work for some time."
Eventually the ships docked at a quay in the inner harbor. Almost as soon as the boarding plank had been secured, a well dressed gentleman boarded the ship. Allen watched from the quarterdeck as the man approached.
"I suspect this fellow is some sort of agent," Cunningham said, "sent to help us settle our prizes."
"Father won't be happy, but I imagine there is little to be done about it."
A moment later the man stepped up to the quarterdeck and introduced himself as Mr. Danforth and stated that he was acting as agent for the Continental Congress.
"One of the first things the Congress did was regularize the process of settling claims. There was some...er, difficulty in the past. Having a standard system insures that everyone gets paid fairly, as well as making sure our fighting men get the tools they need to do the job."
"My father's head just exploded," Allen muttered.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Nothing, just a family joke. Proceed."
###
The two Allen's and their lieutenants gathered in a private room above a tavern near the docks. The innkeeper had prepared food and drink and left them alone to conduct business. It was more comfortable than a gathering aboard either of the ships.
"Well," Cunningham grumbled, "at the rate our new government is settling our account; we may have some money before we die."
“I think we should prepare for our next voyage,” Josephus responded, “my bookkeeper is well established here, I trust him. He can oversee the settling of our prizes while we get back to sea.”
“I agree,” his son added, “we will do nothing but waste time and money if we stay here. We have some advance we can use to purchase supplies, I say get on with it.”
“If you call this an advance!” Cunningham waved some paper continental dollars, “I’m not sure we can actually buy anything with it.”
“We, uh, have some silver and gold as well.”
For a second there was silence.
“Well then,” John Allen said, “where to go?”
As if some one had made an announcement the argument started up. Cunningham wanted to go north along the coast toward Halifax. John Allen wanted to go back to the Indies, Garibaldi and Packard thought they would find good pickings off the Carolinas.
Josephus thumped his hand on the table.
“We should take a larger view of the situation.”
The others looked at him.
“These united colonies, I mean States, are fighting for their independence. While I like making money, I believe the time has come for us to play a bigger part.”
The others looked at him expectantly, his son feeling a knot form in his stomach.
“We next take the fight to the enemy, meet him in his own home so to speak.”
“You are proposing that we operate in English waters?” Packard asked.
“I am.”
“I will be much to dangerous,” O’Reilly objected, “are mission is to take prizes, not fight the enemy.”
“Indeed! And in his home waters the merchantmen will not be so heavily escorted, it seems certain that he must needs be transferring the bulk of his naval forces toward the Americas. After all, this is where the fight is taking place.”
The discussion continued long into the night. By the end, Josephus had worn down the others.
They would go to England.