Michael Aye: HMS Seawolf

In fact he was an oarsman when "Gabe" had been rowed back to Drakkar to inform his brother, Commodore Lord Anthony, he'd passed his exam.

Dawkins was also present that day when Drakkar had defeated Reaper. He'd been wounded.

However, when the ketch Shark went back to England with Lord and Lieutenant Anthony, Dawkins still recovering from a wound in his arm was made part of Shark's crew. Dawkins was no longer fit to be an able seaman. However, he'd learned his numbers and could read and write which was rare for a British tar, and he could perform those duties of captain's steward. He had been pleased by the offer when the captain was given command of SeaWolf and gladly accepted.

Not because he needed the billet. He'd put up enough prize money to retire, but there was something about his boyish captain that drew Dawkins to him. Something he couldn't explain.

He had been to sea more than thirty years and he'd never met another he'd serve this way.

Dagan was talking to the captain. Dagan was a mystery, some said a gypsy sooth-sayer, but he was the captain's uncle, his protector, and he watched over Gabe like a hawk. Dagan stood watch, and acted as cox'n but otherwise came and went as he pleased, without interference from anyone.

Dagan and Dawkins usually dined together, but Dagan was not much of a talker, therefore Dawkins

had learned very little about him beyond what he'd already known from serving together on Drakkar.

The captain was a hard riser. He'd sit on the edge of his chair rubbing his eyes, then run his finger in his hair, take a sip of coffee, then put on a boot. He'd repeat the process for the other boot.

Then before putting on his coat, he would clutch the leather bag fastened around his neck. Some wondered what the bag held, but Dawkins knew. It was a large ruby. How it was obtained was questioned in some circles but Dawkins never questioned it. As he touched the bag every dawn the captain would look at Dagan and say "for luck."

Lieutenant Gabriel "Gabe" Anthony strode up the companionway to the main deck just before first light. Though the faces were not clearly visible, Gabe knew each of his men. In the few months they'd been together they had meshed into a good crew. A good crew and a good ship.

SeaWolf was a thoroughbred, a brigantine. She was captured at the onset of the war with the colonies. Her master had the ill fortune of being caught on a lee shore by a British frigate and was never able to use the ship for the purpose she was built. She was to have been a predator, a privateer, raiding British commerce. Now she was being used against her former masters.

Gabe, like many, was not sure he agreed with the politics that caused this war with the colonies.

He'd do his duty as his brother, Lord Anthony, had often stated, but being a man of intelligence, he had to question some of the British policies. He'd heard Commodore Gardner discuss Lord North's complacency and his underestimation of the colonies' abilities many times.

Well, this ship was proof positive of Britain 's complacency about shipbuilding. They'd never have built a vessel like SeaWolf. British shipbuilders continued with the same old plans, making the same old mistakes and never seeming to learn. Colonial shipbuilders had recognized the need for change and made modifications to improve a ship's performance. The bow was sharper and cut through the water. The keel was deepened to give the ship more balance under full sail plus the keel was more curved aft so as to draw less water. A brigantine was a swift vessel and more easily maneuvered than larger ships. It was the perfect privateer.

SeaWolf was one-hundred feet long, thirty feet across the beam. She was armed with eighteen six-pounders and six swivel guns. She carried two masts. She was square-rigged on the foremast and on the main-mast, a fore-and-aft mainsail. When needed, stay-sails could also be bent on.

Gabe's only concern was the gaff and boom. It had caused a few "headaches" in the early part of the commission but now the crew was wizened to

HMS Seawolf the dangers and no recent injuries had been reported.

Some consideration had been given to the master's comfort when SeaWolf had been constructed, leaving Gabe to believe the previous master had likely been a part owner of the vessel if he didn't own it outright. To allow for more head room in the master's quarters a poop deck had been created. The gaff and boom hung amidships over the poop and was maneuvered by a block-and-tackle that was secured aft to the larboard and starboard sections of the poop. The ship's wheel was located just behind the poop and slightly starboard. SeaWolf had been built by shipbuilders who knew their business.

SeaWolf’s complement was written as one-hundred thirty. However, Gabe was happy to have a crew including officers and marines of one-hundred twenty-one. Some of the crew had been with Gabe on Drakkar. It was a comfort having known men when the commission first began.

However, everyone now knew their commander's ways; else the bosun would know the reason why.

As Gabe made it on deck he was met by his first lieutenant, Everett Hazard, and the master, Mr. Blake. This was Hazard's first commission as an officer. He'd been a pressed man who had flourished in the Navy. He was slightly older than

Gabe and would likely end up with a command of his own at some point. He was one of a few who made it to the wardroom from the lower deck. He needed some polish in regards to a gentleman's ways but his seamanship was superb. That was what Gabe needed most, a real seaman.

What could be said about the master? A breed apart! He could tell you what the weather was going to do before even the weather knew. He was tall, bald and leathery. His eyes always seemed to be squinting.

"Morning, cap'n."

"Mr. Hazard, Mr. Blake," Gabe answered, a ritual that never changed.

"The wind has started to freshen and a find drizzle made the dawn seem to linger longer than usual. The hands are at quarters till dawn breaks," Hazard volunteered. "With your permission once we secure from quarters I thought we'd spend some time in sail drill, sir."

"Very well. You're the first lieutenant, Mr. Hazard, proceed as you see fit," Gabe answered. It hadn't been that long ago he'd been asking permission before undertaking any task. Gabe wanted Hazard to feel comfortable in his new station. It was not necessary for the first lieutenant to ask permission to carry out duties that were his responsibility and in the months since SeaWolf had been commissioned he'd grown with the task. No, Gabe had no complaints.

"Dagan!"

"Aye!"

"Let's go break our fast. It appears Mr. Hazard and Mr. Blake have everything under control," Gabe said as he headed back to his cabin with Dagan trailing.

By the time Dawkins had poured coffee Hazard was putting the men through their drill.

"Ready ho! Put the helm down."

Gabe could feel the bow begin to swing across the wind.

"Helms a lee, off tacks and sheets."

Yes, Hazard was a seaman. Given time and patience Gabe would have a fine first lieutenant.

Blasted down by bleak winds, howling at times, heavy rain, then snow and bitter cold, Admiral Lord Anthony and his handful of ships dipped deep into the angry Atlantic swells then fought to rise through the trough, only to dip again, creaking and groaning as living things, heaving through wave after wave.

Lord Anthony shivered as he stood on the quarterdeck of his flag ship Warrior. He was tempted to go below to his cabin but knew there'd be little relief from the cold other than Warrior's wooden walls. In this weather not even the galley fires were lit. As bad as it was on Warrior, Anthony knew it had to be worse on the ketch Pigeon, and cutter, Audacity. Buck would be better off on Merlin which was a thirty-two gun frigate. Damme he hated the cold, Lord Anthony thought to himself. How he'd love to be back in the West Indies.