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“Monday, March 10, 1777. Proceeded out of Boston harbor, sailing with the tide. Destination English Approaches, intend to operate among shipping where we hope to find few escorting warships.”
John Allen looked at the terse entry in his log. It did not convey his thoughts, perhaps because he didn’t wish to speak his fears out loud, or commit them to paper.
The ships were ready, they had extra provisions and ammunition. He had to admit that the crews were very much pleased with the idea of carrying the fight to the enemy. Ashore not much was happening. Both armies were licking their wounds in winter camp. The winter at been fierce, it would be another month or two before it was possible to campaign on land again.
At sea, more and more privateers were operating against British shipping. A fledgling continental navy had been formed, although it had not done much beyond provoking the British to send more ships to the Western Atlantic.
Allen shook his head. Examined rationally it seemed like they were doing the right thing. Closer to England they could expect less competition and less armed opposition. Yet he still felt an unease about the plan.
“You’re getting soft,” he told himself, “do you really want to spend this War of Independence fetching supplies for the Army?”
No, of course he didn’t; even if it would be safer. He put the log back in its drawer and headed for the deck. He needed some air.
As he came on deck he realized it was the kind of day at sea he lived for. A good breeze filled the sails, the sky almost clear of clouds. The ship’s bow threw a pleasing spray of white water to either side as the ship rode the swells. He glanced astern, where Mary Jane followed, perhaps a furlong away.
He smiled, he needed to shake the gloom. Everything was going to be fine.
###
Shipboard life quickly settled into familiar routines. It could take several weeks (or more) to cross the Atlantic. If winds went against them, it could take a couple of months. The men aboard Venus and Mary Jane were almost all experienced sailors. They had no expectation of getting any where in a hurry.
The Allen’s made sure they stayed within sight of each other. Venus could have made use of her handier sailing to get to the British Isles a day or two ahead of her companion, but neither Captain thought it was worth the risk of separating.
As it happened, the crossing was without incident. The two vessel’s ignored the sails that were spotted from time to time. In turn, the other’s ignored them.
“Suits me just fine,” O’Reilly remarked on such an occasion, “let’s all just go about our own business.”
“Yes, there will be time enough for adventure later.”
A few days before they arrived off the coast of Ireland there was a quiet knock on the door of Allen’s cabin.
“Yes?”
“Sir, could you come on deck, some of the men wish to speak to you.”
“Yes, I’ll come up.”
Allen tried to suppress a sudden sense of anxiety. The men had seemed content, he had always tried to treat them fairly, he knew of no complaint. But it was rarely good news when a ship’s master was summoned in this manner.
He climbed to the quarterdeck and stood facing the crew. With a start, he realized that most of the men were grinning, did they intend to play some trick on him?
Two of them men stepped forward pushing a blanket covered object ahead of them. One of them was Johnstone, the man who liked to carve interesting objects.
“Oh no,” he thought, “what are they up to?”
“We’ve all been working on this for a time,” the other fellow said, “we thought this would be a good time to present it to you, being as we’re going into battle and all.”
Allen looked at Johnstone.
“Is this your idea?”
“A yup.”
And that, of course, would be the most he’d get from the Nantucket whaler.
“So what is it?”
As if on queue the ships drummer began a roll on the instrument. The grins on the crewmen grew wider. With a flourish the two men pulled back the blanket.
“Oh my!”
“We thought our ship deserved a figurehead.”
“Um, well…thank you.”
Allen tried to regain his composure.
“I think.”
The men were obviously proud of their work, he would have no choice but to have it attached to the ship’s bow. He could only hope his mother never saw it. He wasn’t sure what his father would say.
It looked a bit like the mermaid he’d seen Johnstone carving back in the Indies. The word “voluptuous” seemed inadequate. In addition to an ample bosom she’d been painted with flaming red hair and other, well, anatomical features.
The men below him were laughing, as were Cunningham, Garibaldi and O’Reilly who were standing next to him on the quarterdeck.
Allen waved at the men.
“Well get it uh, attached to the front of the ship.”
He’d almost said mounted, that would have done it for sure.
He turned to his lieutenants.
“Stop laughing,” he said with a grin of his own, “or I’ll have you flogged.”
###
“I don’t like this weather.”
“I agree Mr. Garibaldi,” Allen responded, “I fear a storm is coming.”
The sea was calm, the air still. There was a haze in the air. The sun, although not obscured by true clouds did it give its full light. Some where in the haze to the north, off the port beam; Land’s End lay hidden.
Mary Jane’s jolly boat rowed toward Venus. Allen had worried about his father’s reaction to the sculpture gracing Venus’ bow. Then he’d taken a good look at his father’s ship through his telescope. He couldn’t make out much detail, but had concluded that Venus had a dark-haired sister.
Is father was aboard Venus a few minutes later. Father and son shook hands on the weather deck, before retiring to Allen’s cabin in the company of Cunningham and Packard.
As soon as they were settled Josephus looked at his son.
“So, did our crewman get together in a tavern somewhere and decide on the style of figure head we should have?”
All four men laughed.
“It does seem that way,” Allen said.
“Have you ever known a sailor to be uninterested in the ladies?”
“I knew one once…” Cunningham started to say, “no, I take that back. He was an ordained Catholic priest. I don’t think he counts.”
“Did they present it to you as a gift?” John asked his father.
“Yes, all of them together. I couldn’t very well order them to throw it over the side. Besides they are quite insistent that it is a ‘true representation of Mary Jane of…’ well some little town on the coast somewhere.”
“Well we are here, the ships are sound and the crews true. We’ve seen a number of ships as we approached the coast. I think it’s time to get to work.”
“Agreed. You know a couple of days ago I had an opportunity to talk to the captain of that Dutch ship as we were on the same tack for a time.”
“I saw you in close company, what did you find out.”
“Well the Dutch are a bit confused about what they are going to do…”
“What else is new?” Packard asked.
“You’re familiar with the Dutch?”
“I am, wonderful people. Polite, orderly, hospitable, independent. They have to be to live where they do. But they have the what has to be the worst form of government in the world. It isn’t so much a country as a collection of provinces and towns, all of which have a say in any decision.”
“Must make it hard to get things done,” Allen remarked.
“It does.”
“Well anyway,” Josephus continued, “it seems that everyone who isn’t English is hoping to see the colonies get satisfaction. The Dutch to increase their trade, and the French, because they’re French. Same, I think, with the Spanish. But none of them are ready to publicly side with us.”
John nodded, “I expect they need some evidence we can prevail before they will antagonize the British.”
“Exactly, but in the meantime all of them are more than happy to trade with us. It is officially illegal to take a captured prize into a French port, so there is a flourishing market just off shore where cargo and ships can be sold.”
“Excellent, if we work in the approach to the English channel, we should have good hunting. Then we can take the captures to France for sale.”
“That was my thought son. Is that what you wish to do?”
All four heads nodded as John looked around.
“Well, then, let’s get to it.”
###
There was a sharp chop on the sea, and a strong wind blowing. As expected, a storm had blown up two days after the conference aboard Venus. For a day they had ridden it out under shortened sail.
“We’ve seen worse,” Allen had remarked as he came on deck earlier this morning. Now, just after noon, Venus and Mary Jane were running down what they hoped would be the first prize of the trip.
It was a fat merchantman, from the way it was wallowing in the water, it was obviously heavily laden. Her captain evidently hoped to reach some place of refuge. He had led them on quite a chase for most of the morning. Perhaps he would have made it to wherever he was racing, but in the last half hour his luck at turned against him.
The wind was shifting, leaving the merchantman at a distinct disadvantage in relation to Venus and her mostly fore and aft rig. Mary Jane alone might not have got him, but Venus was no coming up close on his beam.
With orange flashes of gunpowder and billows of smoke, his four guns opened fire on Venus. If any of the shot hit home, Venus crew did not notice. Allen watched O’Reilly, who was watching the roll of the ship in the waves. At his signal, a full broadside roared out. The guns had been loaded with chain shot and fired high as the ship rolled.
The projectiles slashed through the merchantman’s rigging. Sails ripped and ropes parted, followed by shouts from the crew. The merchantman’s guns roared again in a ragged volley. One might have hit home, but it made no difference. The merchantman’s captain evidently felt his honor was satisfied, and hauled down his company flag.
A cheer resounded from both Mary Jane and Venus.
Cunningham smiled at Allen.
“We have another one.”
The three ships turned toward France.
"A couple of day's sailing and we'll have money in our pocket again," Cunningham grinned at Allen, "fancy a trip Paris? We'll see the sights, chase some girls."
"Destroy America's relationship with France," Allen added.
Cunningham looked hurt.
"We won't be welcomed with open arms?"
"I think French fathers will look at our figurehead and lock up their daughters. Or shoot us."
"Well then, I guess we'll sell our prize and just come over here and knock on old George's back door again."
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