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  THE RESCUE

  Donland and the Hornet

  Perry Comer

  Copyright (c) 2015 by Perry Comer

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  DEDICATION

  For my brother

  REX COMER

  BOOKS BY PERRY COMER (Allan Brooks)

  The Prize

  (Naval Adventure)

  The Messenger

  Donland and the Hornet

  Donland’s Ransom

  Donland and the Hornet

  Raid on Port Royal

  Donland and the Hornet

  The Bond of Duty

  Donland and the Hornet

  Seige

  Donland and The Hornet

  No Chance

  (Young Adult - Coming of Age)

  The Snake Killer

  (Juvenile Action/adventure)

  God's Broken Man

  (Allan Brooks) (Christian Fiction)

  Myrtle Beach Murder

  (Allan Brooks)(Christian Fiction)

  Fall of Fort Fisher

  (Juvenile action/adventure)

  (Civil War)

  Andrew's War

  (Juvenile action/adventure)

  (Civil War)

  Myrtle Beach Stories (Allan Brooks)

  (Young Adult - Coming of Age)

  What Jesus Said

  (Sermon Outlines)

  FOREWORD FOR THE READER

  Thank you for the purchase of this book and the others I have written. Publishing has changed with the advent of the internet. Writers can now publish their own work. This is good and bad. The writer has become the editor and publisher. The book is only as good as his/her skill.

  I am a teller of stories. Though not in the class with Forester, O'Brien, Pope or Kent, I endeavor to tell a good story and be as historically accurate as possible. Please enjoy the story and overlook any errors. I would appreciate an email if you find a serious error.

  Email: [email protected]

  Chapter One

  Hornet’s bow climbed slowly lunching and staggering to the crest of the wave. She hung there briefly before crashing down into the trough.

  “She can’t take much more of this, she’ll come apart at the seams!” Ashcroft shouted to Jackson.

  “She’ll hold!” Jackson declared.

  A great cascade of green water washed across Hornet’s deck. She shook and shuddered as the water raced aft. Immediately, she began lifting her bow to the sea again.

  Donland had long since given up his hat. Water streamed from the point of his nose and his chin as he scanned the sky. There had not been a dry tread on his body for more than five hours. His hands were shriveled and wrinkled, the skin on his face bruised by the constant lashing of wind, rain, and wave. The bell rang signaling the start of the dog-watch.

  “I’ll go below Mister Ashcroft,” Donland said. “Hold her due south!”

  “Aye, sir,” Ashcroft said as he checked the set of sail. “Another reef sir?”

  Donland turned and lifted his eyes to the mainmast, “Aye, perhaps but take care lest a rouge wind come.”

  “Aye, sir!” Ashcroft shouted above the crash of wave and howl of wind.

  Jackson followed Donland down the hatchway.

  Honest was waiting. “I've coffee, sir, managed to keep it warm, though mind you, it's not hot,” he said as he helped Donland remove his coat.

  “Warm would be welcome and thank you, Honest,” Donland said then added, “Two mugs if you please.”

  Jackson plopped down heavily into the chair. And said, “Wind was beginning to veer as we were leaving the deck.”

  “Aye,” Donland agreed as he accepted the mug from Honest. The coffee was indeed warm but just.

  Honest passed Jackson a mug of coffee. “A bit of brandy would not come amiss,” Jackson said after sipping the coffee.

  “We’ve not brandy Mister Jackson, only wine,” Honest stated.

  Sumerford offered, “I've a bit remaining. You are welcome to it.”

  Honest crossed the deck to Sumerford and accepted the bottle. It was half full. “This should do for more’n a round,” Honest said as he uncorked the bottle.

  Hornet plunged into another trough and Donland’s coffee splashed onto the deck. He ignored it, as the deck was already wet from his dripping clothes.

  “I have dry clothes when you are ready sir,” Honest said.

  “In time, for now, I will settle for a biscuit,” Donland answered.

  “Aye, Captain,” Honest said.

  Donland took the offered biscuit and dunked it, weevils and all into the coffee. He noted that Jackson was slumped in his chair with the mug of coffee cupped in his hands. “Best take the mug from him,” he whispered to Honest.

  Honest did and Jackson did not stir.

  Donland sat staring at his friend. The doctor was certain that Jackson would never walk a deck again. But there he sat. He had walked the deck and more but he was not and would never be the man he once was. The wound had been deep and done such damage that not even time would repair it.

  “Man has to be a fool to be a sailor,” Sumerford said as he stood and clung to a deck beam.

  “Aye,” Donland answered. “But I’d venture, better the fool than the farmer.”

  Hornet began to climb a wave.

  Sumerford clung to the deck beam like a man dangling from a rope clutching the last knot. He half smiled and said, “All this rising and falling is like riding a basted mule with gunpowder up his arse.”

  “Aye, and like the mule, you know not where he’ll come down,” Honest said.

  Donland tipped his mug and said, “Pity the poor sailorman.”

  Hornet’s bow dropped into the trough.

  “Damn me!” Sumerford exclaimed as he banged his head against the side of the deck-beam. Duced if I’m not exhausted. No matter whether I sit or stand, the whole of me has braced and unbraced from all this crashing about. It will be a relief when I can uncoil and allow my sinews to rest. I shall never again complain of idleness.”

  Donland tilted his cup and swallowed the last of the coffee. He stared into the empty cup and said, “Nor will any man on the deck above or those in the rigging. They endure not only the fury of the sea cresting and falling but also the lashing of wind and the pelting of rain and the stings of hail. Their bodies ache with pain as they ascend the heights of the masts and stand for hours on footropes to reef sails in gales that make the canvas an unruly thing. There are those aloft at this moment whose fingers are so stiff with cold they do not feel the canvas. They’ve suffered broken fingers more times than they can remember. They keep their fingernails gnawed down as to not have them ripped from their hands.

  When the wind ceases to howl and sea becomes as placid as a lake, they will have earned their idleness. They will sit in the sun, take their ease, drink their grog and forget the terror of being high on the main-mast in the blackest of night when waves meet sky and death be more friend than a stranger.”

  Sumerford did not reply but rather flopped into a chair and sat in
contemplation. When he spoke he did so with a far-off air of detachment. “An apt metaphor for England, the black of night and the desire for ease. That which stirs in France is a blackness we've not known. The revolution began there will reach its tentacles in all directions to ensnare and devour Europe. England will stand-alone with only the sea as her ally. Our ships, a mere wooden wall, is all that stands against an army of demons bent on destruction and conquest.”

  “You speak as if you've seen the future,” Donland said.

  “The future, yes one version of it. It is the one I foresee but others refuse to acknowledge. They believe a madman can be appeased and thus defused. They fail to grasp the true aim and the burning desire that drives it, that desire is to be master of all that can be seen, touched and held.”

  “By madman, you speak of Bonaparte?”

  “Yes, Isaac, Bonaparte. An evil such as the world has not seen since Alexander. A man so fueled by power that nations bow before him rather than suffer his wrath. And England shall know that wrath as surely as darkness follows the setting of the sun.

  “I pray your vision does not come to pass. And should Bonaparte rise higher than First Counsel, should not another rise to challenge him? Is it not the way of tyrants and despots?”

  “It is, but in France, those who would challenge have all lost their heads. Just a hint of displeasure for those of the revolution is cause enough to place your neck on the block. I can attest from speaking with those I met in the rooms and the halls that they are delusional. Every scrap of paper I read while sitting by the fires of the mighty and influential tells me that there is none to stand, not one!”

  Sumerford pulled the case from his coat and extracted one of his cheroots. He lit it, puffed and allowed the smoke to waft from his mouth for a second. He leaned forward in the chair, pursed his lips and said, “The richest of all men have two things, satisfaction from purpose and a friend that risks all to maintain the friendship. I count myself to be very rich indeed. You know why Isaac? I'll tell you, the work that I do benefits an entire nation.” He paused and puffed on the cheroot. “I am called a scoundrel, a liar, a spy and there is truth in so doing but my cause is not for myself, not for glory but that others might live. The fewer who die whether they be on this side or that side matters not to me, only that the pain and suffering brought on by needless death might be lessened.

  Now as to the other, the friend who is willing to sacrifice all for a friend, that is a rare treasure. Such a friend is to be protected, do you agree?” Sumerford asked and let the question hang.

  Donland hesitated then answered, “Aye, with one's own life.”

  “So you understand,” Sumerford said. “That protection is not always with the strength of arm when a foe is present but such protection is provided before the foe is known. Now, to that end, I entrust this packet to you.” Sumerford said as he pulled a packet from his pocket. He held it across to Donland.

  “What is it?” Donland asked. He was completely off guard by the offering.

  “A pedigree,” Sumerford said and smiled. He continued, “Documents that verify you are someone you're not. You will notice when you open it, the name is unknown to you but I tell you that it is your name. The reason for the deception is that in the course of your activities you may find yourself without resources and in need of anonymity. Those documents will be proof that you are a man of means and with the proper associations.

  Donland was about to open the packet; Sumerford stopped him. “Please do not examine them now but wait until you are sleepless and laying-to waiting for the wind to return. In such an hour you will comprehend the need for such documents.”

  “But these are unnecessary for I've all the documentation I need for any eventuality,” Donland protested.

  “Perhaps, but friend Isaac, indulge me. At the least, you'll have something on that night to entertain you.”

  * * * * *

  “Morris Island light, sir,” David reported.

  “Thank you Mister Welles, I shall come up,” Donland said.

  The sails were full and hard, a stiff wind propelled Hornet southward. Mister Dewitt had the watch and stood with a hand on the taffrail rail staring toward the land. Jackson, only few paces away, leaned against the rail. Overhead was a full moon and a clear starry sky.

  “Eleven knots if I’m any judge,” Donland said as he neared Dewitt.

  “Aye, sir, she’s her head,” Dewitt answered with a touch of pride.

  “Be seeing Tybee light by morning,” Donland mused.

  “Aye, will be good to give these old bones a rest in a proper bed,” Dewitt said.

  “You’ll not be doing much resting if my memory serves me right,” Donland prodded.

  A smile played at Dewitt’s lips.

  Donland rubbed his chin and grinned, “You may be a number of years older than I am but the gleam is still in your eye when you lay them on a ship under full sail or a lass who gives you a wink.”

  “Aye, the eye and the heart are sound but not much else,” Dewitt confessed. “Of late, I’ve felt the years in these old bones.”

  “What you’ve felt is the blasted cold. Four weeks in Halifax Harbor covered in ice and snow makes most men’s bones ache for warmth and sun. You’ll be kicking up your heels again after a week in Savannah,” Donland said.

  “Perhaps and then what?” Dewitt inquired.

  Jackson moved from the rail toward Donland. “It matters not as long as we’ve a deck under our heels and a wind to our backs.”

  “You sound hopeful Mister Jackson,” Donland said.

  “Aye,” Jackson answered and gazed toward the light in the distance.

  Dewitt asked, “Mister Jackson, you thinking of that woman that bout got you killed?”

  Jackson laughed and said, “She’d welcome me to her bed again and that’s no err.”

  “Aye she might but her husband would not, or have you forgotten him?” Donland asked.

  Jackson leaned across the rail as if he didn’t hear. He said with some longing in his voice, “I remember well enough, both her touch and the feel of his blade. I don’t fault him for she is a woman to be desired and held. If ever I’ve the opportunity again I’d risk it.”

  Dewitt snorted, “A fool deserves what he gets.”

  The bell struck twice.

  “Maintain course Mister Dewitt, I shall go below, call me when the light is sighted,” Donland said.

  Hornet, under light sail coasted upriver past anchored merchant ships and the masts of scuttled ships. Damage was still apparent on the land of the French’s attempt to take the city. The siege of Savannah had been a near thing.

  The harbor was busy but was absent any navy ships. There were no marine guards at the quay as Donland’s gig tied up. It was curious.

  Sumerford remarked, “You’ve no welcome.”

  Donland rose from the stern and answered, “Aye, so it would seem. And, you've not one either.”

  Climbing from the gig and onto the quay, Donland watched as a carriage pulled by a pair of grays approached. A naval lieutenant was the only occupant.

  “Welcome Captain Donland, I’ve been expecting you for a week now,” The lieutenant greeted from the carriage and climbed down. “Lieutenant Holloway, I’m provost here.”

  Donland smiled. “Squalls off Chesapeake slowed our passage,” Donland said as he extended his hand. “Time ashore will not come amiss after such a passage.”

  Holloway took Donland’s hand. “I fear I will be sending you off again.”

  “You,” Donland said expressing his confusion.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so,” Holloway said.

  “I take it that you are the senior officer on this station,” Donland inquired.

  “Yes, Captain Pettibone was senior until two weeks ago when he sailed for Bermuda. He left orders for Hornet.”

  “Medusa is back in these waters?”

  “Aye Sir,” Holloway answered.

  Donland’s curiosity was stirred, he asked? �
�What orders?”

  Holloway pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it across to Donland. On it was written Hornet

  Donland smiled. In such changing times, Pettibone couldn’t be certain who would be commanding Hornet. He peeled the wax seal from the envelope and began to scan the document. Hornet was to sail south and patrol the passages between the Florida Straits, Cuba and Puerto Rico seeking an American sloop of considerable strength. The American was believed to be a privateer tasked with menacing English shipping. Stinger had sailed a week prior and given the same task. Hornet was to rendezvous was Stinger and seek out the American sloop to either take her or sink her.

  “So, Stringer sailed three weeks ago, any reports from her?”

  “None sir, she has not been sighted by any ships calling here,” Hollaway said.

  “You will be off then?” Sumerford asked.

  “After we take on fresh water and supplies,” Donland answered and added, “I will endeavor to sail at first light. My orders are to find Stinger and sail in company with her to search for an American sloop that has been menacing our merchantmen.”

  Sumerford’s face showed no surprise. “Lieutenant Holloway, will you dine with Commander Donland and myself this evening?” Sumerford asked.

  “Sir, it would be my pleasure. May I offer you transport to your lodgings?” Holloway asked.

  “Thank you, I appreciate your kindness,” Sumerford said.

  He turned to Donland, “You've matters to attend. I shall send a man for my things and to let you know where and at what time we will dine.”

  “Aye,” Donland answered.

  Chapter Two

  The heat in the cabin was intolerable. Donland sat shirtless at his table trying to wrap his mind around the figures before him. The transom windows were flung wide and cabin door was open to allow as much ventilation as possible. By mid-afternoon, the tar would be dripping from the rigging. Anegada lay just off the starboard bow and Antigua was no more than a day’s sailing with good wind. There wasn’t wind at present and Hornet wallowed in the swells. Dewitt assured him that the wind would freshen in the first dogwatch.