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Josephus looked around his sea cabin. He had only a few minutes, the Royal sloop was already putting a boat over the side. Obviously, they thought he had something to do with the privateers operating off the English coast. The sloop had closed with him flying a Swedish flag, and then simultaneously raised a Royal Navy Ensign and opened fire.
Reflexively, Venus’ gunners fired back. He had quickly replaced his company colors with a British flag, hoping to pass himself off as a loyal subject of George III. As he ran to the cabin, he had pulled the Massachusetts’s state flag from the flag locker. Now he wrapped a piece of chain around it and through it out the window on the side opposite from the Royals. Fortunately he had made some advance preparation for an event such as this. All of his official papers, such as Mary Jane’s Letter of Marquis, were in a single canvas bag. He weighted that with a handful of pistol balls, tied it closed and tossed it out the window as well.
“Is there anything else?” he asked himself.
Satisfied that he had done what he could, he ran back up on deck to greet the officer approaching his ship.
“Any orders sir?”
“Have the men try to look sharp and keep their mouths shut. Don’t let that fellow hear you, though.”
“Already done.”
“Good man.”
Moments later a Royal Navy lieutenant, accompanied by several marines was climbing aboard Mary Jane.
Packard had evidently made a hasty plan to create their guest properly. A line of sailors stood as side boys, and the boson’s pipe whistled off tune. It did not look or sound like a military drill.
The lieutenant ignored the greeting entirely and walked to Josephus.
“Are you Master of this vessel?”
“Yes. Josephus Allen, this is Mary Jane, out of Boston, that is when those damned rebels will let us sail.”
The lieutenant stared for a few seconds, as if thinking this over.
“You fired on us,” the lieutenant finally said.
“We returned fire when you fired upon us,” Josephus said indignantly, “you approached under a foreign flag and gave us no time to act before switching flags and shooting.”
Josephus stared back, looking the man in the eye.
“That was hardly the act of a gentleman.”
The lieutenant ignored the insult.
“We can’t be too careful, there have been pirates claiming to be colonial privateers about.”
The lieutenant looked down the deck.
“You have rather a lot of cannon.”
“There are even more of those pirates near the colonies. They steal our cargo, and then make us haul theirs, and pay us in that worthless paper they call money. I have to defend myself somehow.”
“Be careful,” Josephus thought, “don’t lay it on too thick.”
“I must inspect the vessel.”
“Of course, I understand.”
###
“I couldn’t do this with Garibaldi acting as sailing master,” Allen muttered to himself.
The man was everywhere on the deck, organizing teams of men to handle the running rigging, making sure they understood what was expected. He confused Allen for a minute by having other teams of men drag the portside battery to starboard, and lashing all of the guns down firmly. Then he realized there was method to Garibaldi’s madness.
“He’s putting as much weight as he can on what will be the windward side.”
“I hope we don’t have to fight anything to port,” Cunningham remarked.
“I hope we don’t have to fight anything at all.”
Garibaldi waved his arms to get Allen’s attention, “Ready!” He yelled.
It had all taken only ten minutes. Venus had been continuing on a northerly course, reaching across the wind out of the west.
Allen gave an order and the helm was put over. Venus turned east, and continued turning wearing around to the southeast. Allen hoped that his somewhat downwind course had confused the enemy. As the ship turned, he saw the sloop and Mary Jane, drifting close together, still about two miles away. Beyond the two, more sails were coming up over the horizon.
Cunningham looked over at him.
“I think we bit off more than we can chew this time.”
Suddenly Cunningham’s face fell.
“I’m sorry Captain. This is no time for banter.”
“Don’t worry about it. I know you meant no harm.”
He tried to smile.
“Just you and Mr. Garibaldi get us out of here.”
Allen turned around; the three ships he had to elude were still bearing down on him, but also still turned slightly to the north.
His trick just might work.
Venus steadied down on her new course. Allen focused his telescope on the Royals to the west. Two looked as if they would maintain course. On the southern most ship, the one that would have to make the interception, he could see men climbing the rigging and line handlers in the waist. The chase was on.
Venus flew across the water, heading nearly due south, the wind off her starboard beam. Allen stood next to the two men on the helm. O’Reilly was sending fresh men up from the main deck every few minutes. Holding the rudder hard over was a task that wore men out quickly. The ship’s port rail was nearly in the water, the beam wind pushing the ship over.
Slightly behind and to starboard, the Royal frigate gave chase. But Venus was in her element, her rig enabling her to make the best of a difficult course in the available wind.
Aboard the frigate, men worked the complex system of ropes, trying to make the best of the wind. For them it was a difficult task, failing to angle the spars to point toward the horizon as the ship heeled, would spill air, costing the ship speed.
Even with the ship’s crew doing its best they gradually fell behind. As the race started, they fired a few shots from their bow chasers to no effect. As the range increased, the enemy ship’s gunner gave up. But his captain did not.
Late in the afternoon, with their pursuer still following now almost directly astern, Garibaldi climbed up to the quarterdeck.
“I have to give it to him,” he said, pointed toward the frigate, “he’s a bloody minded one.”
“Doesn’t want to give up does he,” Cunningham said.
Allen was standing by the rail, staring back along Venus’ wake. His face an emotionless mask.
“Sir,” Cunningham asked, “do you have orders?”
“No.”
O’Reilly stepped onto the quarterdeck.
“The Captain does not look well.”
“Can you blame him,” Garibaldi answered.
“Sir,” Cunningham tried again, “I think we’ve pretty much given him the slip. I think if we turn a point to starboard, we can make it out to sea. He can’t follow us that close to the wind.”
Allen sighed.
“Mr. Cunningham, please take command of the ship for awhile. I wish to go below.”
“Aye Aye sir.”
As Allen walked silently toward his cabin, Venus’ deck shifted under him as the ship came to a new course. A few minutes later the frigate astern gave up the chase, and turned back to rejoin the fleet.
###
Josephus stayed close to his accustomed place on the quarterdeck, trying to act nonchalant. From time to time, he would forget he was trying to look unruffled and begin pacing. As soon as he caught himself, he returned to his station.
A nervous young midshipman watched him incessantly.
“I’m not sure he’s even blinked,” Josephus thought, “he looks like a cat watching a mouse.”
The six marines who had come aboard with the midshipman watched the deck crew with indifference. If an officer wanted something, he could order them to do it.
The lieutenant had inspected Mary Jane without comment, or for that matter much attention. He had taken a few papers, notably the contracts leasing other vessels to the royal navy; and otherwise just poked around for a few minutes. Josephus’ big worry had been that the royals would question his crew. It apparently had not occurred to this lieutenant that the crew could tell him anything useful.
The lieutenant had left the midshipman and marines to keep an eye on Mary Jane, and gave Josephus orders to keep station a short distance from the sloop. Then he had departed to return to his own vessel, undoubtedly to give a report to his captain.
“At least he did not hang me on the spot,” Josephus thought. He looked at the sloop, and found himself looking directly in the muzzles of a row of cannon. He had very few options at the moment. While the two ships sailed a course south by west under reefed sails, a whole fleet came up behind them.
He could see some two dozen merchantmen, accompanied by several frigates, and at least one ship of the line. Clearly, the ships formed a large convoy in route somewhere.
A pistol shot attracted his attention. He turned toward the sloop. The lieutenant had a speaking trumpet to his mouth.
“Luff up! I am coming back over.”
Josephus gave an order to the helmsman and Mary Jane turned into the wind, slowing until she wallowed uncomfortably in the swells. A pistol shot away, several boats filled with soldiers.
For a moment, Josephus pondered attempting to overwhelm the midshipman and trying to fight his way free. Then he rejected the idea. It would only get crewmen killed. Then he realized that fifty men or more packed the boats. The sloop was transferring “cargo” to Mary Jane, not coming to arrest him.
“I may get out of this yet.”
Shortly, the lieutenant and a pair of marine sergeants approached him. The lieutenant gestured to him to step over to the rail so they could speak privately.
“Frankly, my captain and I are not entirely sure of your story. But we cannot do anything with you just now. Therefore, we are offering you a chance to demonstrate that you are a good subject of the king. We were bringing soldiers from the Channel Islands to join this fleet in route to the colonies to suppress the rebellion. We were to transfer them, but didn’t make the rendezvous. We are overloaded. You can carry this lot for us.”
Josephus smiled.
“I would be delighted to aide King George in ending this rebellion.”
The lieutenant looked at him skeptically.
“We shall see. The marines and soldiers will disarm your crew and keep order. The midshipman shall command the vessel. You are to be confined to your cabin unless he needs you for something.”
“I see. If that is what it takes to convince His Majesty’s navy that I am a loyal subject, I shall comply.”
The lieutenant turned and made his way back to his boat, with a sharp gesture to the midshipman.
The young man stepped up to Josephus.
“Sir, I must escort you to your cabin.”
“Certainly.”
Two of the marines followed them and took up positions on either side of the door as Josephus entered his sea cabin.
“So I am to be a prisoner on my own ship,” he thought, “the do not trust me, and must have doubts about my story.”
He smiled ruefully. He could not help wondering if he was to be hanged when they got wherever they were going.
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