Black Sam - Prince of Pirates

Thirty-Six - WHYDAH GALLY

Thirty-Six - WHYDAH GALLY

January 1717

Governor Shute sat in his chair glaring at Cyprian who sat across from him in his office. “Do you have any idea what a beating I’ve taken because of you?” The governor said, not wasting any time.

Cyprian shifted in his seat. “If you’ll allow me to explain—”

“Why? Are you going to tell me that I was misinformed about you losing two of his majesty’s ships of the line?”

“No sir—”

“Then shut up.” The governor closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead as if trying to wipe away a migraine. “The magistrate wanted you replaced immediately.” The governor’s voice was now more calm and quiet. “After several long hours, I was able to convince him that it was in his best interest to keep and reassign you.”

“Reassign me?” Cyprian protested.

The Governor looked at Cyprian without expression. It was the sort of look that explained far more about the governor’s indignant mood than words ever could.

Cyprian withdrew his protest. “Of course, I will serve any way I can.”

“You are to sail to London, where you’ll meet up with a Captain Lawrence Prince. You will escort him to West Africa and then to the West Indies and back to England.”

“The slave triangle?” Cyprian asked.

The governor nodded. “This should take several months to complete, by then maybe the magistrate will remember all the good you’ve done for the crown and this ‘debacle’ will be a faint memory.”

“Thank you, Governor,” Cyprian said and turned to leave.

“Cyprian?”

Cyprian turned back around to see Governor Shute holding a sealed parchment. “Don’t forget your orders.”

Cyprian took them from the governor. “Thank you again, sir.”

“I cannot bail you out a second time.”

“You won’t have to,” Cyprian said with a bow and then left the office.

                                                                                            ***

It was a beautiful day to be in London. The sky was a rare blue and despite the slight stench from the river Thames, people were out in droves. Captain Lawrence Prince was in awe of the city. Originally, from Amsterdam, he was accustomed to thriving cities, but London had something special that he could not put his finger on. Maybe it was the rich sense of history mixed with an invigorating influx of the new and exciting.

The London Bridge was of particular interest to him, with its magnificent buildings constructed along her entire length. He had heard many things about London, but never had a chance to see it. Now here, he longed for more time. He wished to walk freely among the people, and partake of the many pleasures found in such a grand place. He could not, however, as he was here on assignment; the captain of a newly built slaver, part of his effort to forget his previous life as a privateer raiding villages and towns in South America.

He turned back to his men who loaded his ship with various manufactured goods. Linens, pots, and weapons were the majority of his cargo.  Most of the workers were of African descent. Prince noticed their hard work and to his surprise, they accomplished more in a few hours than a crew made up of paid hands did in a day.

“Captain Prince.” A voice called from behind him. He turned back around.

Cyprian stopped before him and gave him a slight bow. “Captain Cyprian Southack, at your service, sir.”

Prince looked at Cyprian a bit confused. “Captain Southack, the cartographer?”

Cyprian straightened himself. “I have the distinction of charting many unknown territories for the crown, among other duties. For example—”

“Captain as you can see we are very busy, and therefore I must insist you cut to the chase.”

“Of course sir. I have orders to be your escort along the trading route.”

Captain Prince just looked at Cyprian, not really knowing what to say. “Escort?”

“Yes sir,” Cyprian said handing his orders to Captain Prince.

Prince started to read. “What on earth for?”

Cyprian swallowed. “I don’t really know, sir.”

Prince looked up from the parchment. “Most likely a punishment but the question is, for whom?”

Cyprian did not say anything, but his shifting posture told Prince all he needed to know.

“Your punishment has become mine,” Prince growled under his breath.

“Excuse me, sir?”

“I don’t require an escort,” Captain Prince said handing the papers back to Cyprian and walked away.

“Captain, these orders are from Magistrate Phelps. And I have every intention of carrying them out.”

Captain Prince stopped, turned on his heels, and walked back to Cyprian.

“Why should I care?”

“You don’t have to care, but those are my orders nevertheless, and I will follow them.”

Prince stepped forward and looked at the younger slightly taller Cyprian face to face.

“Get in my way and I’ll cut your throat.” He stepped back, smiled, and walked to his men.

Cyprian motioned to his man to re-board his own ship. They watched Captain Prince from a short distance as the slaves loaded the cargo. Not having cooperation from Prince was going to make this a difficult appointment. He would keep his distance and do his duty. After all, his job was to be an escort, nothing more.

The slaves finished loading the ship; and when all men were aboard, the ship headed out to deep water.

Cyprian gave orders to release the mooring lines, and his ship moved away from the dock. He looked through his spyglass to get a close up view of Prince and his ship. He saw the men as they worked the rigging and climbed to the crow’s nest. He stopped on a direct view of the captain who was standing near the helm, looking right at Cyprian. Prince shook his head and then turned around. He rang a bell to signal their departure to other ships in the port.

Cyprian found the bell within his scope and read what he could of the inscription.

The Whydah Gally – 1716