Captain Kingcrab and the Pirate Pursuit

It was truly a fine morning for sailin’, especially a little sloop as beautiful and responsive as the Steady Breeze.  She cut a fine bow wave, heeling over slightly to starboard with a gentle following wind.  It would have been a fine day in the South Pacific indeed, if not for the Murky Turtle coming up on us from behind, under a black flag.

For the Murky Turtle was the pirate ship captained by Big Nose Bilgewater, the Pirate of the South Seas, and a scourge he was to all peaceful merchant vessels like our own.  He had picked us up just as we left the Borneo islands and was now overhauling us, still some distance away, but gaining slowly and surely.  We knew we would not escape him.

“Is it for certain he’ll catch us then, ye think?” I asked Captain Kingcrab, who was still entwined in the lines of the shroud for stability, studying that dirty and tattered but very dangerous ship hanging upside down there in his long telescope.

“Nothing is for certain on the sea, Mr. Bagley,” he replied calmly, “but as matters stand he will certainly overhaul us eventually.  Probably by this time tomorrow.”

Now the Steady Breeze, for all her fine handling qualities and beauty, was not a fast sailer.  She was trim and nimble but simply could not match the sheer speed of that three-masted behemoth that followed us.  The Captain and I had discussed it on many occasions, and it was our belief it had to do with the placement of the mast from when the keel was first laid.  We could do many things to help her speed, but we could not re-make the ship.

Myra and her twin sister Nyra skipped along the deck and came up to me.  They leaped up into the shrouds playfully and danced along the lines, no fear of falling or tripping.  Ah to be a child again!

“Is it true the pirates are after us, Mr. Bagley?” Myra sked with a bright smile. 

“Yes I’m afraid so, little Myra,” I replied.  “It’ll be something of a chase here for a while.”

“This is so exciting!” exclaimed Nyra, climbing still higher while clinging to the taut lines holding the sail.  “I’ve never seen a pirate before!”

And you don’t want to see one now, little child, I thought to myself.  Aloud I said, “But it’ll be sometime tomorrow before we see any action.  Why don’t you two run along now and bring the Captain some hot cocoa?”

They squealed with delight and jumped down, racing for the aft hatch ladder and the galley.

No you certainly don’t, I thought again.  The future was pretty grim for them childs, much worse than they could imagine.  Them two, and little Leeka, Captain’s niece we called a Cabin Boy, probably would be sold at a slave auction to who knows who.  And Joey and Tyro, older boys but still young and developing, missing their entire growing up years probably being chained to a bench below decks in a slave ship, running an oar meant for a full grown man.  The stakes here was pretty high.

That night by lantern light I saw the Captain and the Sailing Master studying the chart, which I found unusual because I knew the Captain had been through these seas many a time before.  As had the Sailing Master, and as had I, come to that.  I joined them at the chart table.

Captain Kingcrab straightened up when he saw me and a broad comfortable smile came across his face.  “The Corwellian Narrows, then Mr. Bagley.  The Corwellian Narrows before noon tomorrow.”

And then I smiled too, for I knew what he was a-thinkin’.  Dangerous it was, and that right sure; but with the blessin’ of the Lord and a right smart followin’ wind, the Steady Breeze had a chance.  And in the sea, you daren’t ask for more than just a chance.

*               *             *             *

Morning dawned suddenly, as it does in the Tropics.  It were dark all around, and of a sudden you see a bright line of sunlight stretched all across the horizon broadside toward you as it were, rushing toward you, chasing the dark away, and just like that it’s day.  I never like to miss the sunrise when we’re at sea.  A quick look aft showed the Murky Turtle still holding on, a mite closer than at last light.  Now you could almost see her closin’ the gap.  She were maybe two miles back.

No time for breakfast, for this day would see an end of things one way or the t’other.  We had cocoa and sandwiches on deck.  And then the Captain climbed up in the aft shrouds with that long telescope again and commenced his orders. 

“Mr. Bagley,” he said cheerfully, “Jibe us to port, if you please.”

“Aye, sir,” I said.  Then louder, “Hands about ship!”

The racing of feet on the deck could be heard as the men took up their stations. 

“On your orders, Mr. Bagley.”  The Captain had the Murky Turtle fixed in his glass, I knew.  He was studying every little thing about that dim and grimy boat.

“Prepare to jibe!”  The crew was ready, and I caught a quick quizzical gleam in a couple of faces that told me they suspected what the Captain was up to.

“Bearing away!” I shouted.  The Sailing Master was at the helm and he immediately spun the wheel.  The Steady Breeze began to turn to port.

“Jibe-ho!”  The boom came around, the preventer stays were caught by a pair of stout sailors, and just like that the Steady Breeze came up on the port tack as sweetly as you please.

The Murky Turtle, not so much.  The move had caught them by surprise, as well it might, seeing that there were no good reason for us to turn at that point and that in doin’ so we gave up a little precious distance.  But it were worth the cost to see how that scalawag crew stumbled through their own turn.  Pirates could be seen stepping over each other, getting tangled in lines, furling and then unfurling the wrong sails.  The mainmast started to turn, then stopped, then the mizzen mast finally made its turn, then the mainmast did so and eventually the Murky Turtle shuddered over to the port tack.  It was a dirty business, but the Captain had what he needed.

“Very good, Mr. Bagley,” he said, looking down and beaming.  He clapped the telescope to his eye again.  “Now another of the same, if you please.  Starboard tack.”

The crew was in high spirits now, for they too had seen the sloppy business aboard that dark ship, and now they knew the Captain was putting the Steady Breeze through its paces to get an understanding of how well – or how badly – Big Nose and his bad boys could handle their vessel.  It also made our sailors proud to be besting them, and in matter of fact it made them snap to their stations even more eager than usual.

The crew of the Steady Breeze were handpicked by the Captain.  Every man aboard knew his job and most of the other jobs on the sloop as well.  Most of them had been fishing in the sea since they were old enough to cast a line, sailing their own little dinghies in the Cape Cod Bay back home and often venturing out into the Atlantic.  They were born and bred to the sea.  This was high adventure for them, and it were a pleasure to see them bend to the work.

We did another jibe, this one to starboard, and watched the Murky Turtle do the same.  They seemed to get no better with practice.  I shook my head in amazement and heard the Bosun clucking his tongue.

But we had given up some lead with our antics.  I knew we were close now to the Corwellian Narrows, and looked ahead to see if I could yet detect the telltale green shade of the usually blue water.

We heard the splash of the cannon ball before we heard the boom.  KER-SPLASH! in the water some 100 yards off the port quarter and considerably behind us.  The ball hit the water and skipped two or three times before it sank.  Their gunnery ain’t much better than their sailin’, I thought, and hoped it stayed that way.

Now the Bosun was perched at the very prow of the sloop staring intently at the water before us.  It had begun to turn a light shade of green.

The Captain appeared beside me on the afterdeck.  “How deep would you say our draft is, Mr. Bagley?” he asked in loud, deliberate voice, heard by all the crew nearby.

Knowing what he was getting at I continued to stare over the rail at the water, turning ever lighter.  “Less than four fathom, Captain.  About 20 feet,” I replied formally.

BOOM!  Another splash of water 10 yards away on the starboard beam sprayed cool water over the Steady Breeze amidships.  The girls squealed with delight, playing in the sudden rain.  A glance aft confirmed the Murky Turtle was a mere 200 yards off now.  Almost point blank range.

“And that of the Murky Turtle?” the Captain asked in the same firm and unaffected voice.

“About twice that sir, maybe three times,” I replied. 

You see, a ship is sort of like an iceberg; the part you see above the water is only part of it.  There is a lot of the ship below the water level.  The bigger the ship, the deeper the draft – the part below the water – and thus a larger ship is much more threatened by underwater obstacles than a smaller ship.  Underwater obstacles come in many types… such as the underwater coral reefs of the Corwellian Narrows, which could be seen, beautiful and treacherous down in the water, and which gave the ocean surface a light green tint.  Very dangerous to large ships.  It were a devious plan the Captain had in mind.

“On deck, there!” came the call from forward.  “Reefs ahead, Captain!” shouted the Bosun.  I looked back and saw the Murky Turtle edging closer and closer, throwing a huge bow wave, running all out before the wind, gun crew on the foredeck loading another cannon ball. 

Again I shook my head in disgust.  When pirates steal ships, they really ought to steal a good set of charts to go along with them. 

“Mr. Bagley,” said the Captain in his best command voice.  “Prepare to jibe, if you please.”

“With pleasure, sir!” I replied.  “Hands about ship!”

No running feet this time, for they were all at their places and every man aboard knew what was about to happen. 

“Bagley!” called the Captain, his feet planted firmly on the deck and gazing steadily at the hulking Murky Turtle, “You may turn when you are ready!”

“Aye, Captain!”  Then in a loud voice, rapid-fire commands:  “Prepare to jibe!  Bearing away!  Jibe-ho!” 

The wheel spun, the boom came across, the preventer stays took up slack, the Steady Breeze heeled over and came up on the port tack as pretty as anything I had ever seen.  I watched over the side as those beautiful, golden, deadly reefs glided under our keel, only a few feet below us.  The crew knew they had executed a superb turn, but now all eyes were on the Murky Turtle, that dirty, dim and doomed ship. 

There were a sudden flurry of panicked activity:  Big Nose shouting orders, pirates again running to and fro, lines being slacked and tightened, sails shivering.  But it were all for naught, and Big Nose seemed to understand it, too, for I saw him suddenly stop, and turn, and look forward as his ship plowed ahead, right through the water where we had made our turn.  It lurched and bit as the reefs tore her bottom out with a sickening loud grinding and crunching noise.  In the confusion, there was no order given to take in sail, and the wind continued to push them forward onto those coral reefs.  Great pieces of wooden planks broke away, splinters flew through the air, and then the mainmast came down, toppling over sideways.  The deck was covered with sail canvas and lines and shrouding and pirates shouting and splinters falling.

It is a sad thing to see a ship die like this.  Not a man aboard the Steady Breeze cheered or even took pleasure in it.  Sure, those men were our enemy, and meant us nothing but harm; but now, their ship dead in the water and breaking up in the waves, they were just flesh and blood like us, fighting for their lives in a hostile and unforgiving sea.

The Captain’s voice was more subdued as he too was transfixed by the scene.  “Pass the word for the Steward.”  Then to me, “Mr. Bagley, are you familiar with St. Matthew’s passage on the Lord’s message about letting your light shine before others?”

The Steward rushed up, followed by the girls, chattering in high excitement and pointing to the wreck of the Murky Turtle.  “Aye, Sir?”

“See the longboat is provisioned with water and victuals.  Make haste, if you please.”

“Yes, sir!  Girls!  With me!” he shouted and ran for the galley hatch with Myra, Nyra and Leeka in his wake.  They seemed to have taken a shine to that crusty old sailor.

“Of course, Sir,” I replied.  “Ever’body knows that one.  ‘Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father what’s in heaven.’  But what’s that to do with the longboat, beggin’ your pardon, Sir?”

“Bosun!” said the Captain.  “Standby to launch the longboat once provisioned.  See that there are oars in it.  Also its mast and canvas sail!”

“Aye, aye, Sir!” came the response from forward.

“Oh no, Sir,” I said, realization slowly dawning on me.  “Sir, if you’re thinkin’ those scalawags will give God the glory for the gift of your longboat, well, Sir, it’s more’n likely they’ll just use it to refit and come after us again in revenge for what you done to their Murky Turtle.”  I screwed up my face in disgust.

Forward the Steward and the girls placed barrels, casks and crates in the longboat. 

“Longboat provisioned, Sir!” shouted the Bosun.

“Cast off, Bosun!”

“Longboat away, Sir!” replied the Bosun.  He was perched on the foredeck railing, a coiled line in his hand, the free end tied to the prow of the longboat.  With a mighty heave he sailed the coil to a pair of pirates clinging to a bit of log.  They seized the line and began pulling the empty longboat toward what was left of the Murky Turtle.

“If they seek to come after us, Mr. Bagley, all I can say is, they can try,” the Captain remarked drily.  “But as for their response to the Lord for the gift of the longboat, well, that’s up to them, isn’t it?” 

“That it is, Sir,” I replied, somewhat humbled – once again – by this man’s actions.  He really ne’er ceased to amaze me.

As the Steady Breeze got way on her and caught the wind, and as the Murky Turtle passed from view, I caught sight of Big Nose Bilgewater one last time.  He was gazing at the longboat from the rapidly sinking rail of his ship, and as he looked, I thought maybe I saw him raise a gloved hand to his eye as if to wipe something away.  But I couldn’t be sure.

*               *             *             *

Three days later the Steady Breeze sailed into harbor at the Solomon Islands.  We found a place to berth right next to a big, beautiful, three-masted sailing ship which could have been a sister to the Murky Turtle.  But this one had not been ill-treated.  The morning sunlight gleamed from every surface; every piece of brass gleamed like gold; every piece of mahogany was polished to a high gloss.  The lines looked to be new, the sails were bright white and furled neatly, everything ship shape.  She were a gorgeous thing to behold, towering over our little sloop.

A small boat put off from the dock and rowed out to meet us.  “Ahoy the Steady Breeze!” came a shout.  “Is Captain Kingcrab aboard?”

“Captain Kingcrab here,” replied the Captain, shouting across the water.  “Permission to anchor?”

“Permission granted.  And with the Harbor Master’s compliments, the Governor of the island wishes to see you at your earliest convenience.  He has urgent dispatches for you.”

Captain Kingcrab and I exchanged a look.  What could this mean?

“Thank you.  You may inform the Governor we will be along as soon as we have dropped anchor and seen to our passengers.”

A half hour later the Captain and I walked into the Governor’s mansion.  The Steward had taken all the kids into town to get them a proper meal for a change; no more hot cocoa and sandwiches for them.

The Governor met us at the door and ushered us to his private office.

When we were seated in large, comfortable leather chairs before his massive oak desk, he began, “Captain Kingcrab, thank you for coming to see me.  I have been informed of your recent mission to Borneo.  May I enquire whether you were successful?”

“Entirely successful, thank you, Governor,” replied the Captain calmly.  “We encountered no serious obstacles in rescuing the orphan children whatsoever.”

I looked at the Captain in amazement.  No serious obstacles?  Maybe he was forgettin’ the stern chase with the Murky Turtle, where one false move could’ve seen us broken on the coral instead of Big Nose Bilgewater.  No serious obstacles, indeed!

“Very good, I am so glad to hear it,” the Governor was saying.  “But according to this recent dispatch, Captain” – he held up a piece of paper for us to see – “they may not be orphan children after all.  It seems their parents have been located, themselves also on the island of Borneo.  But they are in need of immediate assistance, and you are being sent to their aid.  Captain Kingcrab, you and your crew are returning to Borneo.”

Returning to Borneo!  And I had hoped never to see that dark and dangerous place again!  Yet here we were, going back for another go at it.  How many times can a man tempt fate?

“Very good, Governor,” the Captain replied in his customary calm and unruffled voice.  Did nothing ever take that man by surprise?  “We will get underway as soon as the Steady Breeze is provisioned.”

“Well, not quite so fast, Captain,” said the Governor with the beginnings of a smile.  “It seems the Company has seen fit to promote you.  You are now being given command of a much larger vessel.  Perhaps you noticed the brand new three-master in the harbor when you entered?  You and your crew will move to the Fierce Gale and sail tomorrow morning!  My God bless your voyage and give you success!”

Author’s Note

This was actually too much fun to write. Most of what I know about sailing and stern chases I have collected from Patrick O’Brian’s outstanding Aubrey-Maturin series of paperback novels. You may be aware of Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World, the Russell Crowe movie of 2003. The title of that movie was taken from O’Brian’s first book of the 17-volume series, but the storyline came from the third.

I highly recommend the book series for dry British humor, soap opera entertainment, and extraordinarily accurate sea battle re-creations of the Napoleonic era.

Stories of the sea, and especially sea battles, have always interested me. I read an account of the U.S. fleet action against Spanish warships in Manila Bay during the Spanish-American War, 1898. Here is what I said about it in the Author’s Note of the Kingcrab story, Season 1, Episode 1:

Finally, an historical note:  Mr. Bagley’s character is made up out of whole cloth, based entirely on a single line spoken by U.S. Navy Commodore George Dewey to Captain Charles Gridley in Manila Bay, 1898, during the Spanish-American War.  The U.S. squadron opened the attack on anchored Spanish warships when Dewey issued his famous order to Gridley, Captain of his flagship USS Olympia, “You may fire when you are ready, Gridley.”  This line appears in slightly different form in Episode 2 at the fictional Corwellian Narrows. 

If you missed that episode, by the way, it is available at this link, or by surfing to alligatorpublishing.substack.com.

In this episode, Episode 2, when Kingcrab issues the command, “Bagley, you may turn when you are ready!” the reference to Commodore Dewey’s utterance is clear.

In that same paragraph, Kingcrab stands with his feet planted firmly on the deck.  This is a reference to the twin brass plates simulating footprints which can today be found on the deck of the USS Olympia, docked at Philadelphia as an historical exhibit. Ostensibly, that is the very spot where Commodore Dewey stood when issuing his order.

Back in the day, “You may fire when you are ready, Gridley,” was as famous as the slogan “Remember the Maine!” Both issued from that short military conflict with Spain, and served to rouse the American people to a state of readiness for war. In that environment, the United States stepped onto the world stage.

I hope you enjoy these Kingcrab stories. The next one should be out in a couple of weeks.

If you like it, please Like and Share. You probably know someone with young kids who are dying to hear the story!