The Ash Tree
By
Heath Chase
Published by Heath Chase at Smashwords
Copyright 2010 Heath Chase
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The Ash Tree, a forty cannon warship, lay in port in Nassau in the year 1730. Her crew, a motley mix of Irish, Scottish, Welsh and Colonial sailors of various dispositions, spent the night in the taverns and brothels along the docks of this squalid port. Kept awake by rum and tales of folk heroes like Edward Teach and Captain Morgan, the crew members in the Blind Man Tavern squinted blearily as the morning sun shone through the grimy windows, dawning on the waters of the Bahamas and the newly rigged ship, refitted and loaded for her return to the open sea.
At the turn of the tide, The Ash Tree and her crew sailed across the bay. Catching a stiff wind under her jib, she left the bustling merchant port and the agile boats of a colorful regatta in her wake. A parade of new coarse-linen canvas was quickly hauled aloft onto the mainmast. The crew, using strong lines of hemp fiber running through blocks and deadeyes of carved wood, steadily raised the yards. A gust of wind rattled the stays as the sails unfurled, and the ship sped over the rolling waves, and out into the ocean.
Despite the speed capabilities of the freshly careened warship, the Captain took his time sailing and carefully plied the waters, looking for the Spanish, British and French ships with holds full of gold and other riches. He wryly found these ships to all too often be fat and ripe for plundering.
The crew spent the long weeks working hard; swabbing the decks, splicing lines, and sanding down the mast. When the work was done for the day, they would break out casks of rum and a variety of instruments gathered on their travels to wile away the time with music and carousing.
Every one of the pirate crew had sworn on an axe to obey the Articles of Piracy; a declaration which guaranteed a fair share of loot to every man, and laid down the rules of conduct by which each crewmember must abide.
Life aboard The Ash Tree was very different from that on commissioned vessels, where the Captain was the ultimate unquestioned authority at all times. Every man of the crew had an equal say in the affairs of the moment, except during the heat of battle when obeying the commands of the Captain became crucial to the success of their ferocious attack.
Although there were no set authorities, the crew obeyed the Captains orders at all times. They did not do this out of discipline or fear, but out of respect. The Ash Tree’s Captain was a man named Gentleman Jim Rogers. Never had a finer pirate sailed the seven seas. No, he may not have been the most bloodthirsty or vicious pirate that ever existed, but he was the most cunning and calculating sailor who ever plied this trade. He was well known for taking that extra time to wait for the perfect volley that would break the back of the ships he was attacking. Yet he was also known to show mercy on occasion, especially to the women of the ships he overhauled and boarded. No, Jim never intentionally killed a woman or a child. He had his own nightmares regarding a particular woman and child that chilled him to his bones, and he did not need to add any more ghosts.
As for the mercy, this he was particularly known for. He has fired upon his own men if they so much as shot a man in the water. In his own way, Gentleman Jim considered all sailing men equal and deserving of a fighting chance, and shooting a man who fell overboard during battle was a form of cowardice. All men deserved better than to die like fish in a barrel.
Jim had at one time been an Officer in the British Navy, but had mutinied against the Captain of his ship when he was ordered to fire upon a small boatload of indigents. When his Captain gave the order for a third time, Jim disobeyed and threw the Captain overboard with a knife in his liver. He immediately took control of the ship and asked for volunteers to stay with him. As he was the Executive Officer of the ship, and a well respected man, he had his choice of crew as many of them readily chose to stay by his side. Anyone choosing to not stand with him was spared and set ashore on a nearby island. None of the crew left that day, but all Officers except for the ships Doctor chose to be placed ashore.
Theirs was as noble a life as a pirate’s life could be. All members were considered rich by most standards, and could leave at any time and retire comfortably anywhere they chose. Instead, they stayed with Gentleman Jim not just out of respect, but because as a lot, they were as greedy as the day is long. Gold and silver were the most prized treasures a pirate could hope to plunder, but no ships cargo was safe. Spices, livestock, precious textiles and rare artifacts were all taken and accounted for by the ships prizemaster to be divided among the crew when the ship arrived at a secluded harbor or pirate town. Often, the drunken revelry following a successful raid could last for days, with feasting, dancing, and brawling long into the night.
On this day, Jim heard the call from the crows nest that there was British ship ahead on the horizon. The ship appeared to be a small, ten gun Brigantine, according to the lookout. It would be an easy target with some minor riches to be sure, but a British ship all the same. To Gentleman Jim, that fact alone made the ship more than deserving of being overhauled and taken. He stepped from his cabin, and walked to the ships wheel while asking his quartermaster for the looking glass.
Peering through the brass bodied looking glass, he could see that the ship was indeed a Brigantine. A half days sail at his current speed, he decided to lower his colors and hope they had not seen him yet. When night came he would close on the ship, and then attack at dawn. He gave the orders for silent and dark running. As the crew ran about the deck extinguishing the lights and dropping their colors, Jim retired to his cabin.
The cabin had long ago been furnished with French chairs and tables. Even his bed was rumored to have been owned by French royalty at one point in time, but it mattered not to Jim. Yes, like his crew, Jim was rich beyond anything he could have ever imagined. He could retire at will, but he would be hunted like an animal and never permitted to rest.
Jim reached up and rubbed the spot on his shoulder that still had fragments of a British assassin's bullet. It was his constant reminder of the last time he considered retirement. It also prompted him to remember that his retirement would only come in the form of death.
Then and only then would he have the peace he had dreamed so fondly of for many years now. His mind was constantly invaded by thoughts of a peaceful existence with his beloved wife and daughter, whom he dearly loved and missed. As the tears broke from his eyes, his body shuddered, and he took in a deep breath.
He curse God for being so cruel, asking how on earth God could have done what he did? How could he have taken a woman and child from a man so mercilessly, and so quickly? He swallowed the pain and attempted to shake it off like so many times before.
Snapping his fingers into the darkness, he stirred his cabin boy into bringing a bottle of rum to him. Pouring a glass of the alcohol for the Captain, the young boy placed the bottle on the table then left the cabin, leaving the Captain to his own nightmare.
Darkness came slowly for the Captain, and so did another bottle of rum along with his dinner of fish and hardtack. As he ate he could only laugh as here he is, one of the richest men on the seven seas, and he still eats the same food as the lowest sailor. Eating until he was gull he called the cabin boy in to clear the table. He then asked the boy to retrieve the Sergeant at Arms.
Moments later, William Tenet, the Sergeant at Arms of The Ash Tree stepped into his cabin. Jim looked up from his charts and looked at him briefly before speaking, “William, have ya noticed we are closing on a British ship?”
“Aye Captain, I have noticed it and have been anticipating this visit.”
“Good. Have you by chance made preparations for war?”
“Aye sir. All cannons are loaded and waiting to be primed, but from what I can tell, the target looks to be but a brigantine. Likely has no more than ten guns total, she should break easily enough.”
“I would agree William. That is why I have been thinking I would like to give the men a little excitement. I want this ship William. I want it boarded and taken, intact.”
“Intact, sir? But we…”
“We are soon to be overloaded here on The Ash Tree Mister Tenet and could stand a bit of room. Good lord, we will soon have so much treasure on board we will be bumping good King Neptune in the head every time we sail over.”
William laughed at this and said, “Aye sir, that we will. What be your intentions then?”
“We could use that ship William, as a treasure ship. We take the treasure to the smaller ship, with a skeleton crew of our most trusted men, and have them sail behind us. At least until we make it to the island for a proper unloading. So, what do you think William?”
“Sir, we have sailed together for many years now, I have always trusted you without question, but I have a concern.”
“Speak your mind man, ya know I am always willing to listen.”
“Well sir, it’s just that it will slow us down and make us an easier target.”
“Aye, maybe so, but ya cannot live forever now, can ya?”
With a laugh that shook the small candle on the table, William slapped Jim on the shoulder and told him, “No, I guess ya can’t, but it sure doesn’t hurt to try!”
Jim walked him to the door telling him, “Prepare the men for a boarding at dawn and have someone bring me my box.”
“You want your box, Jim? You are going to board her with us?”
“Aye William, as I said, ya cannot live forever.”
William nodded his head and left through the doorway, giving a quiet order to the first sailor he came across to retrieve the Captains box. Within minutes the box was brought to his cabin, leaving the Captain to his duties of preparing for war. Opening the box made from white ash, he looked admiringly upon the red silk lining and array of weapons before him. Inside were several pistols, a jewel encrusted saber and an odd looking rifle. Each weapon had been meticulously crafted specifically for his hands by various masters of weaponry from around the globe. The three pairs of double barreled pistols were all stocked with a dark ebony hardwood from the shores of Africa and manufactured by the master craftsmen of Beretta. Each of the barrels was highly polished with a small ivory bead set atop each barrel.
Laying the pistols out on the table he pulled out the long gun. A piece of art if there ever was such consideration for an instrument of war, it was able to be broken down into two separate pieces and assembled with such craftsmanship as the joining line could not be discerned once the two pieces were joined. Running his hands down the stock of the gun he snapped the rifle to his shoulder. Looking down the barrel, quickly locating each of the three aiming beads as his eyes traveled the length. Almost regretfully lowering the gun from his shoulder, he admired it one last time, and then laid it on the table, patting it as he would the head of an obedient child.
Turning his attention back to the box, he paused momentarily to admire the beauty of his cutlass. Crafted for him by a Toledo master, he had yet to have grown weary of its inherent beauty. Lifting it from its berth in the box, he smiled as he felt its familiar weight in his hands. The feel of the gold wire wrapped handle, the heft of the bejeweled brass cage surround his hand and the perfect balance of the steel blade. Running his fingers down the side of the blade as he had done many times before, he made a silent promise to the spirit of the cutlass. Tomorrow you will eat my child, but for tonight you must rest.
Laying the sword on the bed he continued to prepare the guns. Loading and carefully priming each one he then assured each one had a good coat of oil in order to protect them from the salt of the sea. Lifting a leather harness from the box he slid his arms through the loops then shrugged his shoulders aiding the leather in settling properly across his large frame. Carefully he placed each of the pistols in its appropriate place.
Stepping to the head of his bed he reached under his pillow and retrieved his red sash. The very sash his wife had given him before he sailed away from her the last time. Tying it around his waist he then lovingly slid the blade of his cutlass between the folds of silk.
Standing by the head of his bed, he held strongly with his right hand to the bedpost, and as he did every night before a fight, he slipped into slumber while standing.
As the first golden slivers crept over the horizon his eyes opened in gentle protest. Looking out the small window he smiled, enjoying this time of the day. As he stood there his smile turned to a slight grimace as he remembered where his destiny lay this morning.
Stepping out from the relative comfort of his cabin and into the chilly early morning air, he was immediately greeted by the quartermaster who reported they were directly behind their target.
Taking the looking glass that was offered to him, Jim replied “Excellent. Any signs they have noticed us?”
“None sir, we feel surprise is on our side and know we will have victory on this morn.”