Michael Aye - HMS Seawolf

"Damme," Dagan said, "place looks like a floating market."

Bay Street was lined with wholesale stores and residences that ran parallel to the Cooper River. The river was choked with brigantines, sloops, and schooners from abroad. Tied-up as they were, there was little hope of escaping any enterprising British naval patrol.

From up river, barges, dugouts, and canoes made their way down from the interior full of country produce to be sold to the town folks.

Negro slaves were everywhere. A few Cherokee Indians were also about so no one paid much attention to Kawliga.

"Look!" Caleb tapped Dagan and pointed to a man holding a sign: "Mary McDowell s most notorious brothel for lewd women – Pinckney Street."

"What's a brothel?" Jubal asked.

Both Caleb and Dagan turned and stared at the boy. For once, both were speechless. "Your Pa will tell you about it," Dagan finally managed to say.

"Why can't you?"

"Well, some things need to be discussed between a father and son."

"But Pa ain't here."

"You'll see him soon enough."

"You just don't want to tell me. Well, I recon I'll just go over to Pinckney Street and find out."

"Huhmm…" Caleb said, "Might not be too bad an idea."

"Shut up Caleb," Dagan said, then turned to Jubal,

"You ever read the Bible?"

But before he could explain further, Jubal cried out,

"Mr. Frances…Mr. Frances over here."

Dagan was both relieved and concerned. Relieved he didn't have to explain what a brothel was but concerned about meeting the enemy. He had the letter of introduction but had hoped he wouldn't need it.

Now he was facing Frances Marion, a Colonial colonel.

Marion was a smallish man. He wore a crimson jacket and a battered helmet with a silver crescent and the words "liberty or death" was on his head. He had a slight limp. Seeing the limp was noticed, Marion said by way of explanation, "Broke my ankle during the battle of Fort Moultrie."

"I see," Dagan said trying to decide how to proceed with this man who could have him thrown in prison, or worse…shot. After a second Dagan decided to be truthful and straightforward. "Colonel, I'm a British sailor. I'm looking for my nephew who commands a British warship. I have a letter for you from my uncle, Andre, Jubal's father whom I believe you know well." Without the slightest change in his facial expression and demeanor, Marion said, "Well, it appears we have

a bit to discuss. Let's move to a place more suitable than the Bay Street wharf. I know of a nice little tavern that puts together a fantastic frogmore stew. Shall we go?" Dagan had no knowledge of what frogmore stew was but felt compel ed to follow the man known as the Swamp Fox as he limped off toward the tavern.

Marion read Andre's letter and listened to Dagan's story. Then he said, "I'll get you to Beaufort…if I have your word you'll collect your nephew and be off. No spying, no sabotage, just get your kin and get."

"You have my word," Dagan replied solemnly.

"We will protect ourselves if we have to but otherwise we'll avoid trouble when we can."

"Fair enough," Marion stated, "Wait here til you hear from my messenger."

In less than an hour, a man approached Dagan's group as they sat around a table at the tavern where Marion had left them. He was dressed in buckskin britches, a homespun Woolsey shirt and an ill -fitting crimson jacket that bore a silver crescent, the mark of South Carolina 's second regiment.

In a low voice the man spoke, "You the Britishers?" When Dagan nodded his answer the man said,

"Colonel Marion sent me to guide you to fetch your kin and keep you outta trouble whilst we's about it. Name's Rud."

"How shall we travel?" Dagan inquired.

"It'd be quicker to take a boat," the man said, "But that'd attract more attention to us so's we'll go overland but stay off the main road. The colonel gave me a pass in case we get stopped and questioned. But, he reckons it best we try to avoid any ’sojers' if possible."

"How long will it take?" Dagan asked as the rest of the group remained silent.

"Pends on if you can keep up," Rud answered. He had noted Caleb favoring his leg. "Day, maybe two." Finishing his tankard of ale, Caleb stood and stepped around the table. "When can we leave?" he asked.

"Quick as you get your plunder together," Rud replied, "There's still enough light left we can make our way outta the city and have a good jump on the morrow."

Someone was screaming. Screams intermingled with cries and loud sobs. As Gabe tried to clear the fog from his brain he could hear the cries. They were muffled but close by, women-the cries were women-

and seemed to be coming beyond the wall where Gabe had been laying. As he reached to touch the back of his head he felt a weight tugging at his arms. He was manacled. A chain went from wrist to wrist, then another was around his waist and still another attached the chains shackling his arms to the one around his waist. The chain around his waist had a tail and was attached to something. It was dark in his prison so Gabe on his knees followed the length of chain to a wall.

About three feet off the hardwood floor he found the chain was attached to a large ring bolt. Not unlike that on a slaver they'd taken as a prize last year.

Next to the wall the sounds from the next room were much clearer. Now there was a mixture of sounds.

In addition to the cries and whimpers of women there was also the laugh of men. Right away he recognized the voice of Montique and Hindley. Hindley was addressing his boss.

"Can the men have a turn now, Mr. Montique?" A slight pause then Montique answered,

"Tomorrow night, but tell that bull Smith if I lose another from his sodomizing he'll pay. The dey of Algiers doesn't take it kindly when his merchandise can't hold their bowels."

"I'll warn him, sir. I'll threaten to take the cost of the wench from his pay."

"And I'll have the hide off his back as well," Montique said.

As the two men stepped out of the prison where the captive women were kept, Montique could see Faith sitting on the top step of the plantation house. She had her legs drawn up to her chest with her chin on her knees.

"Has she come around yet?" Hindley inquired.

"No, not yet, and I'm losing patience," Montique answered. "If she's not willing by the time I return from Charlestown I may send her on a trip to Algiers. I could get more for her than the whole group we got penned up."

"Should I help persuade her some," Hindley asked, hoping to have his way with Faith. He'd seen her in the low cut dresses acting so innocent. He'd also seen her naked. He had climbed the oak tree and laid on a limb until Nanny had the tub fixed and Faith undressed as he watched. She was ripe and he was ready to pick the fruit.

Montique had come to a stop and appeared to be considering Hindley's suggestion, "No, not yet. Keep an eye on her. Give her free rein, but watch her closely.

If she don't want me when I get back, Ali Dey can have her. Let's see how she likes ’The Dey's keeper of the

honey' watching over her night and day. The big eunuch stands with his arms crossed and a great scimitar in his hand guarding the only entrance to the harem's quarters."

Montique seemed to be thinking aloud as he continued speaking, "A beautiful blonde is worth a lot, but a beautiful blonde virgin is priceless." Shaking his head, Montique appeared to have made up his mind. "No, don't touch her Hindley…keep your eye on her, but don't touch her." These last words were fill ed with menace.

As they parted in different directions it started to drizzle, then the rain came harder. Damn, thought Montique, it will be a slow muddy trip to Charlestown.

Gabe awoke with a start. In spite of the cool damp air he was sweating. He had been dreaming of the explosion on Turtle. The sudden blast that sent him cart-wheeling into the air as the vessel became a roaring inferno. High through the air Gabe had been hurled, still clutching the Turtle's captain. The air burned his lungs as sheets of flames seemed to reach out for him.