The barque Rislane's bow split the low swell of the azure Caribbean as she tacked with the sou'westerly tradewinds toward St. Kitts. She was homeward bound from Jamaica with a cargo of molasses, cotton, and cocoa. Once she breasted St. Kitts, she'd turn north to put the tradewinds at her stern and sail for home - Weymouth on the south coast of England.
The sun had just risen over the low swell of the sea when from his watch station a hundred and fifty six feet above the deck, the lookout on the main mast shouted, "Sail Ho, off the starboard beam." The third watch crowded against the starboard rail to look. They were quickly dispersed back to their various tasks by the First Mate. He looked through the telescope he carried and then went below to the captain's quarters. He knew Captain Knowles would be having his breakfast by then.
His knock was answered by the command, "Enter". The mate opened the door and walked into the small room at the very stern of the ship.
"Captain, a sail has been sighted off our starboard beam. She looks to be a schooner rig and rides high in the water. She is paralleling our course."
Captain Knowles stopped his knife in mid stroke through the dish of butter.
"What flag does she fly?"
"She is too far away to tell, Sir."
He scooped up a generous glob of butter and smeared it on the piece of bread in his other hand.
"Most likely a slaver that has unloaded and is sailing under ballast to pick up her return cargo. Nothing to worry about."
Captain stopped the travel of the bread to his mouth and thought for a moment, then looked up at the mate.
"Still, 'tis a foolish man who ignores a squall line on the horizon. Put the men to readying the guns and watch the schooner to see what course she sails."
By the change of the watch at noon, the schooner was still abeam and had halved her distance from the Rislane. Captain Knowles watched her through his long telescope for several minutes, then turned to his first mate.
"She flies no colors and she's tacking with us with all her sails set save the headsails. I would bet my dinner her crew is the rotten scum of the sea and they plan to take the ship. We could out-run her were she loaded, but she will be a close match as high as she rides. Set the royals and if she still closes in an hour, the stun'sls on all spars."
At Mr. Wainwrights's order, half the watch climbed like monkeys up the ratlines on the shrouds until they were at the royal yard on each mast. They worked their way out on the yard by standing on the footropes and then loosed the royal sails. As the white canvas caught the wind and billowed from their hands, the remaining crew manned the clew lines and pulled them tight through their blocks until the mate was satisfied.
The Rislane picked up speed. The mate watched through his telescope as the schooner added a headsail to keep pace.
After an hour had passed, the mate ordered the stunls set. All hands turned out to join the current watch. Some climbed out onto the yards, worked their way to the ends, then attached the stu'nsails to their booms and ran the booms out. Others of the crew took up the lines, hauled them taut and secured them with belaying pins on the fife rails.
An hour later the schooner had added another headsail and closed half the distance again. The cargo in the hold of the Rislane made her sit low and her wide beam slowed her progress even under the cloud of canvas that seemed to brush the true clouds that scudded through the bright blue sky.
Captain Knowles was concerned. His primary cargo of molasses, cotton, and cocoa would fetch a good price should the pirates be able to seize it. The other cargo he carried would be worth a fortune more than all the molasses, cotton and cocoa in the West Indies. She was the daughter of Neville Bonner, the most wealthy plantation owner in Jamaica.
Marie Eleana Bonner was eighteen, and her father had purchased her a passage on the Rislane to visit her grandmother in England. Mr. Bonner had spoken to Captain Knowles before the Rislane slipped her cables and left port. He had wanted assurances that Captain Knowles would do all things within his power to guarantee his daughter safe passage to Weymouth. There, she would be met by a coach that would take her to the family estate in Oxfordshire and his responsibility for her would cease.
Captain Knowles had assured Mr. Bonner the journey was a common one and not particularly fraught with danger, the way being well charted and much traveled. Mr. Knowles had asked about pirates, to which Captain Knowles replied the British Navy had mostly eliminated that threat and that the Rislane was equipped with ten guns of twelve pound bore and her crew was trained in their use. Mr. Bonner had seemed satisfied. He shook Captain Knowles' hand and promised a reward should his daughter reach England well in health and in good spirits.
Now, with the threat of pirates looming ever closer on the horizon, Captain Knowles worried that he may have spoken too confidently. Should the young girl and her escort, an older woman by the name of Madeline Mayes, be taken captive, it would be better he died fighting than live to face Mr. Bonner. That pirates would hold her for ransom was a certainty. The thought they would use both women to satisfy their immoral urges was a possibility he wished were not in his head.
The schooner was still closing, but more slowly now. The sun was low on the horizon, and it was probable she would only keep pace with the Rislane until morning. Then, she would attack. Perhaps the delay held the answer. Captain Knowles consulted his chart and then tapped his finger on a small, irregular shaped island he knew to be only a few leagues from their current position. Taking up a charting pencil and piece of thin, nearly transparent paper and placing it upon the chart, he quickly drew the coastline and features of the small island, and then the outlines of Hispaniola and Jamaica. He added an arrow for north and a rough scale at the bottom, then turned and left his cabin.
Captain Knowles walked down the steps to the First Mate. The mate was frowning.
"Captain Knowles, they close more slowly now, but they still close. What trick do they intend to play upon us?"
"No trick, Mr. Wainwright, just prudence. Their captain knows there is not enough daylight left to press an attack. They will pace us, staying just out of range of our guns until morning. We must be ready to fight to the last man then."
"The men are ready. The guns have been charged and need only primed and a match. I have issued muskets, ball and powder to fifteen of the crew. The other fifteen will man the deck guns."
"Good. Set half a watch tonight so most of the men can rest. Have the ship's carpenter and cook rig the galley as an aid station. We will send any wounded there. Be certain the carpenter has a sharp saw and the cook has a fire with several irons in the coals."