History, Politics And Current Affairs

"These damned Frogs couldn't manage a pissing contest in a brewery!"
Cunningham and Packard snickered, John gave them a sharp look, to no effect.
"Father, settle down. We don't want to offend our hosts."
"Perhaps I should take them a beer," Cunningham said with a straight face, "to help the negotiations."
"I thought the French preferred wine," Packard said solemnly.
"Will you two stop it!"
"Son, go easy on them. It's my fault."
Josephus glared around the ship's cabin.
"Of course it would help if these people had some idea what they were doing."
The three ships had been anchored outside the entrance to the Brest roadstead for two weeks while agents, buyers, sellers and government officials bickered about what to do with them. Geographically they were not in French waters. But they were close enough that the British frigate patrolling the area did not venture to close to them.
But the Allen's were getting worried. If even half the reports and rumors they were hearing were true, the British were increasing their activity in the area. John and Josephus didn't know if they were the object of the search, or if it a general action.
Either way it made the task of getting back out to sea more difficult. And the delay in settling their prize seemed interminable.
"Father, we're in a good situation. We can buy fresh food ashore, we'll maintain our stored supplies for cruising at sea. I'm sure we'll get our settlement soon enough. Why the rush?"
"Because if I wanted to spend the rest of my days sitting around haggling with dishonest traders, I would have stayed in Boston!"
The older man looked around, chagrined at his outburst.
“You fellows are young, trust me the day will come when you will miss the excitement of doing things like this.”
He sighed.
“Well let’s get back up there and see if we can finish this. I’d like to get back out to sea.”
###
“Well, Father, it comes down to one thing. Are we just running around the ocean grabbing loot, or are we fighting for a cause?”
“I am not a pirate,” Josephus said with irritation, “I’m a businessman.”
“And our business is to help our country.”
“When did you get so idealistic?”
“It started when I was press ganged into a service I did not wish. It gave me a lot of time to think about what I was doing with my life.”
Josephus laughed, startling his son.
“What’s so funny.”
“When you were trying to buy your way off the ship I told the fellow that delivered the message that I hoped you would grow up. It seems I got my wish.”
The older Allen squinted at the note he was holding, written by Benjamin Franklin himself and sent by courier from Paris.
“Well Dr. Franklin wants us to settle our accounts. He says that telling the French to go ahead and deposit the money in a bank here would help him. Apparently the French are thinking of joining our cause against the British.”
“I didn’t know the French were so taken with Republican ideals.”
“I’m quite sure you are not alone in that.”
Josephus sighed.
“Well who are we to argue with Dr. Franklin.”
###
A week later they were back at sea, heading for the sailing routes off the southern coast of England. They hoped to intercept ships headed for the Americas, or perhaps returning to the British Isles laden with cargo from the Indies.
“Well,” Garibaldi remarked, “there is no shortage of ships.”
Allen ignored him as he was looking through his telescope.
“Perhaps too many,” Cunningham answered, “it is impossible to take a prize here with out attracting unwanted attention.”
The three men were gathered at the aft end of Venus’ poop deck.
“Is Mr. O’Reilly seeing to his guns?” Allen asked, still concentrating on the view through the telescope.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He stepped away from the rail.
“That’s a large sloop of war, perhaps a small frigate that has been following us almost as soon as we left Brest. He’s flying Swedish colors, but I don’t know why such a ship would be sailing aimlessly off the French coast, which is what he was doing we when saw him.”
“You think it is a British ship?” Garibaldi asked.
“Yes.”
“Won’t be easy to take a prize with a warship climbing up our stern,” Cunningham said.
Allen looked up at the sky. The deep blue was adorned with white puffs off cloud.
“Perhaps we can shake him loose after sunset, and before the moon rises. Signal Father that I’m coming close enough to toss a message over to him.”
“Won’t drawing close enough to toss a message over let him know we’re acting together?”
“If he’s what I think he is, he already knows that.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Cunningham hurried to arrange the signal.
Allen stepped down to the quarter deck, “I don’t like this,” he thought, “a fight this close to the enemy’s home is a chance for disaster.”
The unknown ship had made contact (he thought) two days after they left Brest. Had the other Captain been waiting for them?
###
Allen spent a nearly sleepless night on the quarterdeck. In the small hours of the morning O’Reilly made him go below and get some rest.
“A Captain that is too tired to think is no use to the ship.”
An hour later, he was back on deck, pacing and watching their shadow. The wind was out of the west, increasing their difficulties. They could try to run before the wind, but that would take them deeper into the English Channel. That course might enable them to get back to France. It might also lead into the arms of more British warships. Venus and Mary Jane steered as close to the wind as Mary Jane could manage, hoping to gain sea room. If possible, they would evade their pursuer and escape into the Atlantic.
Unfortunately, the sky remained clear, there was no rain or fog to hide their movements. When the moon rose shortly after midnight, their pursuer was still in sight, a few miles away.
Signal lanterns rose into Mary Jane’s rigging. Josephus wanted to talk. Allen ordered the helm put over and sails reefed. They could afford to slow down for a few minutes.
“Son,” Josephus yelled as soon as the ships were close together, “I think we should split up. He can’t chase both of us.”
“I don’t like the idea.”
“You can sail closer to the wind than I can. You stand a chance of getting away alone.”
“I like it less. What if he catches you?”
“I’ll claim I’m a merchant captain with contracts with the admiralty. Which I can prove. I’ll tell him you forced me to go to France with you. I’m going to turn a bit with the wind and try to act like I’m making for Plymouth.”
Allen thought for a minute. It was as good as anything he could think of.
“I’ll do that, but try to stay within sight. He can’t follow me.”
Josephus waved.
“We’ll rendezvous ten miles south of Land’s End in three days time.”

Allen gave orders and Venus turned slightly to port. At the same time Mary Jane turned slightly to starboard. Allen was fairly sure that while the ships were visible to the sloop, it would be impossible to tell that they had conferred before separating.
Allen watched the sloop as long as he could. When he finally lost track of it in the gloom, it appeared to be following his father.
“I hope this works,” he said to no one. Wearily he made his way back to his cabin for some rest.
###
Allen’s eyes snapped open. From the half light in his cabin he gathered that is was shortly before dawn. The drummer was beating the crew to quarters. Some one banged on the door loudly.
“Captain Allen, Mr. O’Reilly asks you to come to the deck immediately!”
“Tell him I’m on my way,” Allen shouted.
He glanced down, he had slept in his deck clothes and they looked like it. But from the sound of things this was not the time to worry about how he was dressed.
He ran to the quarterdeck.
“We have trouble, sir.”
Allen had time to notice that O’Reilly’s thick accent had disappeared, as it frequently did when he was excited.
“Your Father’s ship is over yonder,” O’Reilly said, pointing east over the starboard rail.
“That sloop or whatever it is picked up some distance on your father. There are a couple of sails beyond them. They’re full rigged ships, whatever they are.”
O’Reilly turned and pointed over the port rail, toward open ocean.
“Are real problem is there.”
Allen turned and his heart fell.
A few miles away three ships were bearing down on them, running before the wind. Allen believed all three of them to be twenty-eight gun frigates. They were the smallest of the Royal Navy frigates, but they were fast nimble ships. And any one of them had Venus outgunned.
He watched for a minute to confirm his suspicion. They were on slightly diverging courses, a formation designed to insure that one would intercept Venus.
“Look!”
Allen couldn’t tell who had yelled, but a number of the men on deck were pointing to starboard. He turned to see a cloud of smoke floating in the air next to the sloop. Seconds later a series of deep booms rolled across the water. The sloop had opened fire on Mary Jane.
Allen’s mind reeled. It was all happening to fast. Mary Jane was a couple of miles away. Even running downwind it was likely that the sloop would have overwhelmed his Father’s ship by the time he came with range. And the three ships west of him had the weather gauge. Even if Mary Jane held out until he got there, at best it would be four ships to two. And all of the British ships had more guns than his.
He noticed a patch of color at the head of Mary Jane’s mizzenmast. He focused his telescope, the ship’s mainmast carried his father’s long green pennant. Few sailors in this area would know it, but aided in maintaining the fiction that Mary Jane was a simple merchant ship. It was the mizzenmast that drew his attention. He saw three green flags, one above the other, which could also be explained as a company sign. It was one of a few simple signals he and his father had worked out: RUN!
He ordered Garibaldi to signal an acknowledgment and begin giving orders. Venus would wear around to the south, and begin a broad reach across the wind. With luck, he just might make it past the last of the three frigates in that direction.
As he was making his decision, the sound of guns continued from the east. Both of the ships were now enshrouded in smoke.
“I hope your father is giving them a good fight,” Cunningham remarked quietly.
“I’m sure he is. Now we need to get out of here.”
Allen’s voice was low and controlled. He had to keep his composure in front of the crew.
He turned back and focused again on Mary Jane. The ship had lost her fore topmast. As he watched, the green banner at the mainmast came down and a British flag went up. His father was giving up the fight.
Allen took a deep breath, and turned back toward the group of officers on the quarterdeck.
“My Father has been captured, probably. He’s trying to pretend to be a merchant. I do not think it will work. Mr. Garibaldi, you will have to do some sharp sailing to get us out of here.”
“Yes Sir.”
Cunningham stepped over to him and whispered in his ear.
“Are you all right?”
“For now. I will mourn later.”

Just got caught up with this series, keep it up