Charles J. Royster, Jr. Jack Punch Duty Calls Jack Punchdocshare01.docshare.tips/files/4077/40770327.pdfCharles J. Royster, Jr. Jack Punch – Duty Calls 5 Jack Punch Of His Majesty’s

Charles J. Royster, Jr. Jack Punch – Duty Calls

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Jack Punch

The First Black Captain

In

His Majesty’s Royal Navy

“Duty Calls”

By Chuck Royster


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This Book is Dedicated

To My Mother

Iris Elizabeth Royster


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Jack Punch

Of


“Duty Calls”

By

Chuck Royster


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Jack Punch

Of


“Duty Calls”

Table Of Contents Chapter

1. Dame Célèbre and the First Punch

2. Sir Peter’s Dilemma

3. The Colonial Connection

4. Antigua

5. A New Direction

6. Two Bells in the Forenoon Watch

7. Snotties

8. Farley’s Foot

9. Where the Antelope Plays

10. Sir Peter’s Plan

11. Pig Boat

12. Commander, His Majesty’s Brig Punch


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Jack Punch

Of


Forward

As an African American, I have a keen interest in the

history of my people. I want to know what we have done,

what we said and how we have affected the world both

today and historically. I also have a keen interest in other

areas, which includes military, nautical, transportation and

information processing arenas. From time to time, I use my

time to pursue, track and gain additional knowledge in

these areas through books, the internet and any other means

at my disposal. I have pursued this hobby, that of learning

more about things that interest me, since I was a boy and I

first ventured into a library, at the age of eight.

This book has been written to commemorate Royal Navy

Captain John Perkins, a great, magnificent and yet unsung,

National Hero of the Royal Navy of Great Britain. Within

his guise as commerce raider “Jack Punch”, Captain

Perkins was known to be a great seaman, a great warrior

and spy, a nautical tactician and also a great leader of men.


7

His leadership skills were such that he was promoted from

the lower deck to the rank of Lieutenant in 1797; to the

rank of Post Captain in 1803, and around 1805, to the field

rank of Commodore, where he directed his and several

other ships under his command to challenge, defeat and

capture French warships many times his size and firepower.

During his career, Captain Perkins had commanded more

than six different British warships, and was ultimately was

given command of a powerful 5th

rate 32 gun frigate, The

HMS Tartar (This ship was 1/3 larger than the 24 gun, 5th

rate HMS Surprise commanded by Captain Jack Aubrey in

the movie Master & Commander). All of these promotions

were sanctioned and approved by King of Great Britain and

confirmed by publication in the London Gazette, the voice

of the Crown.

In his lifetime he served as a spy for the British against the

French and the Spanish, fought and fired broadsides on the

Dutch, captured and took possession of the Dutch island of

St. Eustatius from the French, and assisted in the

negotiations and arming of the revolutionary resistance on

the island of Haiti, which ultimately went on to win its

independence from the France.

Of curious note is the fact that Captain John Perkins was a

Black, native born Jamaican who never set foot on the


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English mainland for the whole of his life. Captain John

Perkins was a real, hard charging, seagoing hero.

The best description of Captain Perkins career that I have

found was written by N.A.M. Roger, the famed nautical

historian and author of The Wooden World: An Anatomy

of the Georgian Navy for the Oxford Dictionary of

National Biography. You can also find more information

about him and his historical accomplishments by searching

for his name in the online dictionary, Wikipedia.

I would like to thank Professor Rodger for providing me

valuable insight during my initial research on Captain

Perkins, and for the time and candor he provided to me

during our multiple transatlantic telephone conversations.

By researching the pages of the London Gazette, I have

found many letters and reports written and signed by

Captain Perkins to his superiors showing proof of his

daring accomplishments, his unwavering tactical skills and,

his literacy.

The following is a actual letter published in the London

Gazette on April 22nd

, 1801:

(On Board the) Arab, St. Eustatia, April 22, l801

S I R*.


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THE enclosed is a Copy of a Letter I received from

the President of St. Kitts, in consequence of which I

immediately proceeded in compliance with the

Contents, after having embarked the Troops at

Sandy Point, on board the Arab, and the Spanish

Armed Schooner her Prize; I have to inform you

that after having sent into St. Eustatia to be

acquainted with their Resolutions, on the Morning

of .the 21st Instant, I received the enclosed Articles

of Capitulation.

I am, &c.

JOHN PERKINS.

As commander of the 22 gun ARAB, Commodore Perkins

negotiated the siege, surrender and capitulation of the

French on the island of St. Eustatius, which was actively

involved in the supply of slaves and arms to the colonies

during the American War of Independence and continued

as a base of operations in the Caribbean for the French,

Dutch and Spanish during the Forth Dutch Anglo War

(1780-1784).

In his letter to his superior, Admiral J. T Duckworth,

Commander In Chief of the Leeward Islands dated April

22, 1801 (published in the London Gazette Issue No.


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15370, May 30, 1801) Commodore Perkins reported the

results of his negotiations with the President of St. Kitts. It

should be noted that when Commodore Perkins took the

island he also had, in addition to the two ships under his

command, a commissioned Royal Marine Captain and an

entire regiment of Royal Marine Buffs to support his efforts

in taking the island. Together with his crew, the island was

sacked and stripped of all items of value which included

powder, shot, cannon and ships. His letter details all of the

items taken with specific descriptions of each item.

The above citation is but one Captain Perkins’s many

written descriptions and reports of his actions and

accomplishments that reside amongst the pages of the

worlds oldest, and most distinguished and respected

newspaper.

The London Gazette was, and continues to be published

under the authority and auspices of The Crown of Great

Britain, who to this date holds its’ copyright. Wikipedia,

the free, on-line encyclopedia describes the London Gazette

as follows:

“The London Gazette is one of the official journals of

record of the United Kingdom government, and the

most important among such official journals in the UK,

in which certain statutory notices are required to be

published. The London Gazette is the oldest surviving


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English Newspaper and the oldest continuously-

published newspaper in the United Kingdom, having

been first published on 7 November 1665.”

After spending considerable time researching the life

achievements of Commodore Perkins, I found gaping holes

in the very same historical records that so accurately

documented the careers of Admirals Nelson, Parker, and

many other Royal Navy nautical heroes.

I also noted that within the writings of several of those

Admirals who commanded Commodore Perkins, such as

renowned Royal Navy heroes Sir Hyde and Sir Peter

Duckworth, I found true hearts demonstrating an equality

of respect for Captain Perkin’s achievements. Their

correspondence to the Admiralty was rich with praise and

appreciation for his actions, and they continually

encouraged and implored the Crown to reward him with

promotions, bigger ships, greater responsibility and

increased financial rewards. I have a high respect for these

gentlemen, as they openly encouraged the Crown to adopt

an attitude of the equality and respect for Commodore

Perkins achievements long after it was no secret that he was

a Black Jamaican, and long before such an attitude was

accepted or popular.

I should note that while the real Captain Perkins’ life and

adventures served as the stimulus for the book, this book is


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a work of fiction. It is an imaginative story loosely

constructed around some actual facts. As such, everything

in it, including the names of the characters, the descriptions

of those characters, the ships, crewmembers and places

described are all fictional. Any resemblance to anyone,

living or dead is a matter of pure coincidence.

In many ways, this work is similar to the efforts of other

authors who utilized the splendid career of Admiral Horatio

Nelson as a framework for their great literary tales. In this

manner, this work is somewhat similar to the works of C. S.

Forrester (Horatio Hornblower) and Patrick O'Brian (“Jack

Aubrey” of the “Master and Commander” series.)

This book is not written to provide the reader with a wealth

of actual, “On the Scene” historical facts, but to utilize the

periodicity of Captain Perkins’ career as a framework and

backdrop for an enjoyable, and yet purely fictional, tale of

adventure and accomplishment.

Within this process, this book is also written to highlight

the real fact that two centuries before America’s “Civil

Rights” came to being, there were “Gentlemen of Color”

who were daring, courageous and successful who

conducted their affairs with precision, civility and

professionalism, the very same professionalism that has

powered the Royal Navy for more than four centuries.


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Captain Perkins’ nickname, “Jack Punch” was derived from

the fear that the his enemies held for his first official

command, a small 70 foot two mast vessel which served as

a fleet tender or Brig, called “His Majesty’s Brig (HMB)

Punch”.

During the period Captain Perkins commanded The Punch,

he chased, captured, burned, blasted, and “liberated” more

than 300 ships and 3000 prisoners from his enemies, the

Americans, the French, The Dutch and the Spanish. There

are many documented cases wherein the enemy captains,

upon seeing The Punch approaching, would run aground

and/or swim to shore (leaving the ship abandoned) rather

than face Jack’s cannon and voracious appetite for battle.

It is for this reason that I have chosen Perkins’ feared and

respected nickname, “Jack Punch” as the name of the main

character for my imaginary events.

With these tales of bravado, I have attempted to “Put some

imaginary meat on the bones” of the few bare facts that I

have been able to glean concerning the achievements of

Captain John Perkins’ life. It is my belief that to be as great

as he was, and of African descent, Captain Perkins must

have been a complete man, with intelligence, perseverance,

culture and polish, as he was able to accomplish so many

magnificent achievements.


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Jack Punch

Of


Preface

The fourteen years which elapsed between the Treaty of

Fontainebleau (1762) and the adhesion of France to the

cause of the revolted Colonist were spent by the French in a

resolute attempt to build up their navy and to strengthen the

family compact which united the Royal Houses of France

and Spain.

…Nor was the British Navy allowed to decay at this time,

as it had so often been before in time of peace. A regular

standard of naval strength was maintained: namely,

equality to the combined navies of the House of Burbon.

That standard prevailed, at least nominally, at the outbreak

of the war. Nevertheless, Great Britain entered upon the

struggle under circumstances very unfavorable to her. The

merchant shipping of the North American Colonies

amounted to very nearly half her own, and the reservoir of

trained seamen which had thus possessed was now cut off

from her.


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… In addition, she (Great Britain) was committed to a war

far from her own shores, while her principal enemies at sea

were close to them, and, in the distant sphere, had,

moreover, a great part of the resources of the Colonies to

rely on….

…For the first time in history she fought at a serious

disadvantage in geographical position. As a further

embarrassment, the Dutch, disloyal to their ancient treaties,

resisted to the application of the rule of 1756 to the point of

declaring war. Antwerp and the Scheldt were at the

disposal of the enemy. And Russia, Sweden, and Denmark

joined in the armed neutrality, which aimed at asserting the

right of neutrals to trade with belligerents in all articles

save contraband of war, and denied the right of blockade.

Since naval stores then chiefly came from the Baltic, and

these were denied to Great Britain, the armed neutrality

scarcely differed from actual war.

The Royal Navy of France was never so formidable.

…The operations in the West Indies, which form the main

naval interest in the War of American Independence, are

anything but easy to follow.

…The capture of (the) “Sugar Islands”; the re-

establishment of France and Spain in their predominating


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position in the West Indies became the (enemy’s)

objective…….

“Sea Power and Freedom”, Pages 186-188

Gerard Fiennes 1918


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Jack Punch

Of


Chapter One

Dame Célèbre and the First Punch

The year was 1775 and the cool Caribbean wind blew

across the shallow bay over the twelve black men hunkered


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down in the captured French longboat. With the folding

mast collapsed across the boat’s centerline, the men waited

quietly behind a clump of Eucalyptus trees, in the shadow

of a rocky outcrop supporting the cliffs above. The men

listened intently to the agonizing cries, screams, curses and

rattling chains emanating from the French slaver reloading

its miserable cargo at the dock located on the other side of

the rocks. As most of these men had, at one time or

another, been slaves themselves, they were all too familiar

with these sounds, and the pain, punishment and

degradation that came along with them. They recognized

them as the invariable sound sounds of suffering,

deprivation and profit as unsold slaves were once again

being beat, kicked and prodded into the man-made hell of

filth and stench of the slaver’s hold.

But they made not a sound. At the command of their

leader, they waited quietly. They waited for the perfect

time, and the perfect place to affect their intentions; to take

the slaver, and relieve the French owners of their slave-

gained riches.

John (Jack Punch) Perkins, the leader of this motley

collection of humanity, lay prone, next to the five pound

cannon mounted on the bow of the longboat. Jack’s eye

was focused through a short brass telescope watching the

hubbub of activity on the dock to which the French slaver,

the Dame Célèbre, was moored. From appearances, there


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was also a small brig moored to the same dock behind the

slaver loading stores of powder and shot, apparently

destined for a trip to America.

Jack was intensely focused on his target and carefully

watched the motions, activities and habits of each man on

the slaver’s crew. This habit, of carefully studying one’s

adversaries, was known to be as much as part of his

character as his powerful build and good looks. At 5’

8’’and stripped to the waist, his muscular upper body,

bulging biceps and broad, chocolate colored back spanned

the entire width of the bows of the small cutter. With two

pistols tucked in his waistband, and a wide blackstrap

cutlass scabbard, he formed the picture of a formidable

adversary to any of his potential enemies.

And a formidable adversary he was. Born free in Jamaica

in 1747 in the town of Kingston, he had watched the

brutalities of slavery forced upon his sisters, cousins and

friends. He hated slavery with a passion. At the age twelve,

he left his father’s home in Kingston, and joined his with

Uncle Perkins as a “powder monkey” on a British privateer

operating under a letter of marque from the Governor of

Port Royal. Inasmuch as England was at war with both the

Dutch and the French, he spent his time raiding Dutch and

French ships laden with gold, slaves and any other cargo

headed for the slave based economy of America.


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But this was a life that was not to be, for at the age of 19,

his ship was attacked by two French warships, and he was

taken, as a slave, to the Dutch on the island of St. Eustatius,

where he was to await transportation to America.

Fortunately, his knowledge of ships, and the caves and

coves of the Caribbean paid off. During the voyage to

Charleston, South Carolina, he led a rebellion which

resulted in the capture of the slaver, and the killing of the

Dutch captain and crew. He sailed his prize back to Port

Royal, where he sold the vessel to a friend of his father, the

Governor of Port Royal, and freed his fellow captives.

From that point on, he was viewed throughout the

Caribbean as a wanted man in the eyes of both the French

and the Dutch, and sentenced to death by them in

abstention.

For the next 10 years, Jack spent his life driving his former

masters absolutely mad. Operating under Letters of

Marques from the several Governors of Port Royal, he led

his growing crew of freemen and former slaves to continue

the harassment of the French and Dutch shipping with

special emphasis on the slave trade, by capturing their ships

and taking the profits they gained from their sales of their

vessels, their cargo, and his unfortunate brethren. Adopting

a policy he learned as a crewmember on the British

privateer, the profits were split up, in equal shares

according to position, with his crew. He became known as


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an expert with respect to his almost photographic

knowledge of the dangerous reefs, caves, cays and passages

throughout both the West Indies and the Leeward Islands,

and a very wealthy man.

At home in Jamaica, this life had allowed him to become a

very well known, and reasonably well off, member of

Jamaican society. He had a fine home on a small

plantation, with paid servants and Jamaican workers who

raised sugar cane, distilled rum and sold it for a huge profit.

As a free man in British society, he was well respected by

both Whites and Blacks of the small island nation. Under

the protection of British law, he enjoyed many of the

privileges of his White counterparts, and was frequently

sought out for their advice during the planning of British

military matters.

These thoughts were turning over in Jack’s mind as he lay

in the bows of the cutter. All that he was, and all that he

worked for now lay before him, at risk, in the cutter with

him. But this was his chosen way of life, so he put the

thoughts out of his head and continued to concentrate on

the problem at hand, and waited. It was then that he felt the

wind on his cheek, and he knew that the time for his attack

was rapidly approaching for as the morning mist faded, and

the land began to warm up, the offshore breeze began to

stir.


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The slaver, which had completed the loading and securing

of its human cargo, was preparing to slip its mooring and

catch the morning breeze to continue its journey to the next

slave trading port to the sou’west. Unfortunately for the

slaver, it would attempting to sail into the wind, which

meant that it would have to sail on a starboard tack from a

lee shore, giving Jack and his crew the weather gage, and

perfect positioning for the attack by the small cutter.

The Dame Célèbre was now ready to sail. Jack watched as

the French Captain hauntingly strode to the quarterdeck.

“Préparez au depart!” The French Captain shouted to his

crew.

Followed by “Tout en haut!” (All hands aloft!)

Jack watch as the crew scrambled up the mainmast and

released the sails. As the sails gathered the wind, the

clumsy vessel began to awkwardly gain speed and drifted

slowly away from the dock. As soon as the she had cleared

the dock moved away from the headland, the American

brig, with the name “Commerce Venture” painted on her

bows, also slipped her mooring and followed slowly behind

the Dame Célèbre on the same tack. The trap was set.

Mounting four six-pounders, with two four pounders as

both bow and stern chasers, the Dame Célèbre could not


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exactly be considered “Easy Prey”. Slavers usually carried

a crew of about 50 men who were known as vile and

vicious sorts, and were accustomed to battling pirates,

privateers and even the British Royal Navy to retain the

spoils of their livelihood, the slaves and the profits from the

sales of their slaves. They could therefore always be

counted upon to put up a fierce fight for their spoils. Jack

and his crew knew this, and were amply prepared to

accomplish their mission with equal zeal.

“Weapons ready!” Jack whispered to this crew.

On this command, each man opened the frizzen covering

the charge in the weapon’s priming pan and checked to

ensure that the black powder in the pan did not cover the

touchhole of his flintlock. Each man took the toothpick

that he kept in their mouth and poked it through the

touchhole, which is a small hole drilled from the pan of the

weapon to the powder charge in the firing chamber. This

ensured that the hole was clear, and the fire created in the

pan would proceed down the touchhole and ignite the

powder charge in the chamber with a “Bang!”, and thereby

propelling the ball in the barrel in front of the powder

charge in the firing chamber into the guts of a perspective

adversary with deadly consequences.

Clearing the touchhole of the weapon was necessary to

prevent what’s called “a flash in the pan”. A flash in the


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pan occurs when you pull the trigger, the powder in the pan

ignites, but the weapon doesn’t shoot. If the touchhole is

not clear, the fire created in the pan by the flint striking the

frizzen cannot proceed down the touchhole to set off the

powder in the firing chamber. In a battle, this can be a

potentially deadly occurrence.

As the men cleared their weapons, Jack watched and

listened as each man removed the small, oiled leather bag

tied over the front of the barrel of his flintlock (to keep out

any water) and then pull the hammer back to its half-

cocked, or “Ready” position. The Weapons Ready status

was signified by a loud “Click!” sound emanating from

each man’s flintlock. This was essentially the flintlock’s

“Safety On” setting, as the weapon would not fire from the

first click but had to have its hammer pulled further back to

a second “fully-cocked” position, which was signified by

yet another click, to fire. Hence the old adage, “Don’t go

off half-cocked.”

With each click, the man would stare at Jack to await his

nod of approval. Jack knew his crew was now ready for

battle.

Jack waited until the Dame Célèbre had cleared the

headland and he watched as she came about on her larboard

tack with the open sea before her. But he also knew that

she would have to tack again, and that, this time, she would


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be out of the range of the French cannon mounted at the

fort on the headland erected to protect the dock and its

slave trading customers.

Jack knew these waters. He knew that the Dame Célèbre

had to tack to avoid getting her bottom ripped out by

“Clemmett’s Reef”, a long line of coral reefs stringing from

North to South, which was directly in her path as she lay on

the larboard tack.

Jack saw the French captain place the speaking trumpet to

his mouth and shout “Se préparent à virer le navire à

tribord!”

He watched the slaver as she began her turn to starboard to

avoid the oncoming reefs. Her sails fell slack and she

proceeded almost dead slow as she wheeled around in

preparation to re-gather the wind and continue her voyage

to the open sea. It appeared that the master of the

American brig was unaware of this reef, which was

uncharted, as he headed directly for the reef and what

appeared to be a date with sudden disaster.

This was the moment Jack had been waiting for.

“Hoist the mains’l, hoist the jib!” whispered Jack.


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Immediately the cutter caught the wind and shot from

behind the outcropping of rocks which had hidden it from

the view of the Dame Célèbre. Jack, now at the tiller,

guided the shallow draft cutter through a break in the line

of Clemmett’s Reef directly across the path of the Dame

Célèbre. With the weather gage, and the wind to his back

steadily mounting, the cutter quickly gained speed and

skipped across the bay towards the port bow of the slaver,

the captain of which was just now beginning to realize what

was about to happen.

“Tout aux canons!” shouted the French captain.

As the bulk of the crew were still aloft working the sails,

those who remained on deck raced towards their assigned

cannon stations to repel Jack and his band of marauders.

Several crewmen could be seen running to the bows of the

ship, attempting to load the cannon and struggling to get

the primer and ball ready to fire. But it was too late.

“Fire!” shouted Jack.

The cutter’s bow cannon, loaded with chain shot, roared to

life. The massive explosion of the close ranged direct hit

ripped away the slaver’s bow chaser, port side anchor cats

and the upper halves of the four men attempting to fire the

cannon with it. With the anchor cats gone, the slaver’s


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anchor, chain and hawser line fell into the sea and

immediately lodged itself in the rocky coral bottom of the

bay, dragging the slaver to a dead halt.

“Fire at will!” shouted Jack.

All at once, Jack’s men in the cutter fired their muskets and

pistols, therein picking off the other hapless Frenchmen

racing along the decks to assist the unfortunate few that

were attempting to fire the slaver’s cannon. The slaver

now lay dead in the water and virtually helpless. She was

unable to defend herself, as her port cannon could not be

brought to bear on Jack’s low-slung cutter.

As the cutter bumped up against the hull of the slaver, Jack

and his men raced up the boarding ladder and climbed over

the bulwarks of the slaver while shouting to the top their

lungs and firing pistols at any Frenchman they saw.

As Jack tumbled over the port side rail of the slaver a

French officer fired his pistol from across the deck directly

at him, but the ball missed Jack and killed Asanni, his

second in command who was just mounting the rail behind

him. Jack was furious, he bounded across the deck as the

officer frantically cocked his other pistol, but the French

officer was too slow, as Jack’s cutlass blithely came across

the man’s body, and struck the arm holding the pistol. This

fatal blow cut off the arm and the hand holding the pistol,


28

all of which, hand, arm and pistol, fell clattering to the

deck. Jack’s second upwards swipe of the cutlass took off

the right side of the officer’s face, killing him instantly.

It was at this time that something struck the ship with force

and fury of a bomb, and every timber of the slaver shook

and shuddered to the impact. The other half of Jack’s crew,

on what appeared to be an American brig named

“Commerce Venture”, had driven their vessel’s bows

directly into the mid-ship of the Dame Célèbre, and the

ship’s crew were now streaming across her bows onto the

Dame Célèbre, while screaming, firing and killing every

Frenchmen they encountered on sight.

Seeing this, the French captain gave up.

“Assez! Nous nous rendons!” He shouted, dropping his

empty pistols and presenting his sword to Jack.

“You have won, Monsieur”, said the French captain, in

English.

Immediately the clattering sounds of the French crew’s

pistols, cutlasses, and repelling pikes could be heard

dropping to the deck. The battle was over, and the slaver

was Jack’s.


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Rolling his eyes up in disgust, the French captain looked up

at the yardarm of the brig and spotted the British ensign.

He then read the real name of the ship which was now

exposed under the torn canvas attached to the disguise his

captor’s ship. It read: “The Punch”. He looked at his captor

and gasped with realization.

“You are no slave, Monsieur. You are Jack Punch, the

pirate!

“Privateer, Sir, not a Pirate. I bring you greetings from His

Majesty King Charles under whose command I gladly

perform my duties. Your sword, if you please, Monsieur,

….and your gold.” Said Jack.

Using the barrel of the pistol from the officer he had killed,

Jack motioned to the captain to proceed below.

“This way, Monsieur.” sneered the French captain.

McKenzie, Jack’s long-time friend and mate, accompanied

the two to the cabin below.

Jack kept his pistol pointed at the French captain’s head.

The cabin was small and cramped. In the starboard corner

a swinging wooden hammock rocked to the motion of the

ship. In it lay a sobbing young Jamaican girl stripped to the

waist with one of her wrist chained to the upper works of


30

the hammock. She was bleeding from her forehead and

with her free hand, held the blood soaked remnants of a

long pink skirt which she held tightly between her legs.

Seeing Jack and McKenzie, she struggled to cover herself

with the bedding of the hammock. The captain’s pre-

occupations were obvious, and it appeared that Jack’s raid

had interrupted the captain’s continued pursuit of his carnal

pleasures.

“A là-bas”, said the Frenchman, ignoring the girl.

The captain motioned towards a chest sitting on the table in

the middle of his cabin.

“Open it.” said Jack.

The captain opened the chest reveal hundreds of gold coins,

payment for slaves he had sold over the entirety of his

voyage.

“You are a filibustere, monsieur, a pirate.” said the captain.

“The king of France will see you hung for your crimes, you

Black bastard.”

“But you never will”, said Jack.


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He fired his pistol, and the Frenchman’s head disappeared

through the aft window of the cabin.


32

Jack Punch

Of


Chapter Two

Sir Peter’s Dilemma

“April 17th

, 1775

His Lordships regret, that they can only be answerable to

the loyalty and fidelity of the King, and, with resolution of


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doing what appears to them to be the best for his service,

which under the current circumstances, preclude the

selection and assignment of an officer of post-captain

rank from the fleet at Portsmouth to the West Indies

under your command. We therefore hereinafter charge

you to select, appoint and or post, as the requirements of

your command may deem necessary, the specific officers

and charges of your choice to support your fleet officer

manning requests (sic.) in support of the success and

completion of your assigned mission”

Faithfully Yours,

First Lord Gerald Leland Pitt

The ADMIRALTY BOARD

As he read his latest dispatch from Whitehall, Vice Admiral

Sir Peter Parker, Commander-in-Chief of the Jamaica

station, methodically paced the weather side of the quarter

deck of his new flagship, the 52 gun, 4th

rate HMS

Antelope. As customary in the Royal Navy, the lesser

officers left him to his thoughts, and stayed on the lee side

of the quarterdeck to assure his privacy.

The good admiral had a lot on his mind. His last dispatch

to the Admiralty contained an urgent request for additional


34

ships staffed with officers with experience cruising the

West Indies. His answer, which he repeatedly read to

insure that he had interpreted it properly, in effect told him

that they could not help him, and that he must use his own

devices to complement his fleet and staff his charge. He

was on his own, and the Admiralty had empowered him to

use his own devices to “select, appoint and or post” officers

and leaders to meet his needs. But where, 3000 miles from

Whitehall, the center of the world’s combatant naval

activity, was he to find these men?

Suddenly, Sir Peter’s thoughts were interrupted by a shout

from the main foretop.

“Deck, There!”

“Where, away?” Shouted Sir Peter, as he struggled with

the claps securing his telescope in its case.

“Cannon fire and smoke abaft two points to larboard!”

Came the reply from the foretop.

Finally snatching his telescope from its case, Sir Peter

wheeled around and peered through the mist to view what

was going on inside the small harbor he had been patrolling

for the past 12 hours. Yesterday at this very hour, he and

his squadron had chased what appeared to be a French brig

almost directly under the guns of the French fort in the

harbor. The French immediately fired on his fleet at their


35

approach. Being unsure of the dangers of the coral reefs of

an unknown harbor, and facing the devastation that would

be inevitable from mounted stationary cannon, he wisely

signaled his fleet to patrol the entrance of the harbor, and

await the departure of the prize from the safety of the fort’s

cannon.

Through his telescope he watched, with unanticipated

amazement, the swift capture of his intended prize, and

succumbed to the reluctant realization that the associated

prize money thereof was not destined to be his. To his left,

his Flag Captain, John Montrose, and the other officers of

the watch simultaneously gazed through their telescopes at

the swift efficiency of the ongoing action.

“Damn!” scoffed Montrose. “Who the hell is that? My

God, carefully planned and beautifully executed. Where

did he come from? Are they pirates, or what?”

“They appear to be privateers.” said Sir Peter. “They are

flying the British ensign.” They must be out of Port Royal.”

“Well, it appears that they are out of Port Royal, and we are

‘Out of Pocket!’ That French brig would have brought a

handsome price.”

“So it seems.” said Sir Peter. “Could you make out the

name of the ship?”


36

“No, Sir” said Montrose. “She appears to be one of the new

American designs, fast, shallow draft, and more sail than

timber. I’ll imagine her to be a real pitching bear in a

following sea.”

“Aye, but perfectly designed for her current occupation.”

said the Admiral. “Better luck next time, Gentlemen.” said

Sir Peter, as he snapped his telescope close.

Perkins, the Admiral’s old Black steward, was standing

nearby with his first cup of hot tea.

“Make sail for Port Royal, there is nothing more we can do

here.” Said the Admiral

“Aye, Aye, Sir.” came the reply.

Immediately the ship began to buzz with life as the Master

called “All hands to make sail”, and the crew scrambled

aloft in preparation.

“Los’n the heads’ls, Los’n the tops’ls. Helm a’lee” called

the Master.

With the new press of sail, the Antelope warped around

like a spanked greyhound, and spun on her heels as she

leaned before the wind. As indicated by the expanding


37

froth of her bow wave, she quickly picked up speed

towards her new destination: Port Royal.

Old Perkins, the Admiral’s steward, had been in the Royal

Navy for almost half a century and with the Admiral for the

greater part of the last decade. As such, he was allowed, at

choice moments, to speak directly to Sir Peter, without

admonition. A Jamaican by birth, he had signed on with

Sir Peter during the waning years of his youth as an Able

Seaman. Over the years, Perkins had sailed with Sir Peter

across the globe and proven his loyalty, and bravery to him

on many occasions, in many battles, in numerous far off

ports of call.

Now, at the twilight of his career, he was too old to

scamper up the ratlines to the work the foretop sails and a

bit too feeble to grab a marlinspike and help manhandle a

four ton cannon into firing position. So, Sir Peter,

acquiescing to his pleas to remain at sea, signed him on as

his steward. As per his daily ritual, Perkins stood by Sir

Peter to return his favorite porcelain china cup and saucer

to its protected cupboard in the Admiral’s cabin.

The other officers returned to their duties, and left Sir Peter

to his space on the quarter deck. As he handed Sir Peter

the tea cup, Perkins, in his soft-spoken Jamaican accent,

leaned over and whispered in Sir Peter’s left ear:


38

“Da’ ship be da Punch, Sah.” Whispered Perkins. “Me

nephew John be da Captain. Him be known to take more

ships den anybody in da’ Caribbean, Black or White. Him

be me brother’s son, him who take the ship, Sah.”

“You know him?” asked Sir Peter.

“Aye, Sah. When him Mama die, me brother be fighting

the Spanish on Hispaniola. Him beg me to take him care.

Ah took him to sea w’ me when he be twelve years, and

him been dere ever since. Him took his first slaver when he

but 19 years. Him real name be John, John Perkins. Same

as me, Sah. Perkins. Him love the sea, Sah.”

“Hmmm. So it seems.” Replied Sir Peter. “Thank you,

Perkins.”


39

Jack Punch

Of


Chapter Three

The Colonial Connection

England was an island nation whose very existence

depended on her ability to ensure that her great merchant

marine fleet could move throughout the world freely. The

mission to ensure that these freedoms were protected

throughout the West Indies was the charge of the new Chief

of the Jamaica Station, Sir Peter Parker. Sir Peter knew

upon his assignment that it would be difficult, if not

impossible to complete his mission without a cadre of

aggressive, talented and well-trained seaman officers to


40

assist him in his endeavors. Moreover, he needed officers

that were familiar with the navigational nuances of the

many inlets, coves, reefs and rocks of his assigned territory,

as these hidden hazards were making it extremely difficult,

if not impossible, to fulfill his mission without

endangering the ships of his fleet.

England was at war, a three navy war, taking on not just the

fledgling navy of its revolting American colonies, but also

the French, Spanish and the Dutch, those traditional

enemies with powerful, world-wide naval forces who allied

with the colonies, and would ally with anyone else who

would raise a hand against the British Empire.

England’s old arch enemies maintained a significant level

of naval forces to protect their possessions in the West

Indies and the Leeward Islands. Sir Peter knew that these

possessions served, in addition to their highly profitable

slave trade, as ammunition, powder and smuggling trans-

shipment import and export ports for the colonies, and that

much of the Colonies ability to wage war against the

Crown came through these ports. It was, therefore Sir

Peter’s intention to close these ports down, and kill, capture

or dismantle the systems of forts, fleets and harbors that

protected these activities.

On the other hand, the three other nations were

clandestinely, or openly, doing everything in their power to


41

aid and assist the colonies in gaining their independence.

They all were involved in smuggling in slave labor,

weapons, powder, shot and anything else they could sell to

the American rebels, while exporting timber, cotton,

tobacco, sugar and numerous other cash crops to back to

Europe to gain profits from the American efforts of war.

They were, after all inclined to protect their own interest,

and the enormous profits of slave trade would not be given

up easily.

Consequently, Sir Peter was tasked with the problem of

protecting and patrolling miles and miles of empty

Southern ocean between North and South America,

Jamaica and the Leeward islands with a ragtag fleet of

schooners, brigs and frigates, with only a few worn but

qualified, “Ships of the line”.

The Royal Navy was, in fact, overextended. The task of

victualing, crewing and staffing a fleet that was on constant

patrol, and more than 3000 miles from their homeport was

an enormous burden. Able seamen were coerced, pressed

and virtually grabbed from every available source:

merchant ships, captured rebel ships, British slavers, and

from the bars and brothels of Port Royal, and every other

element within the British Empire.

These forced impressments were a significant contributor

to the problem with the American Colonies, who no longer


42

considered themselves to be subjects of the Crown, and

therefore decried pressed service in the British military as a

form of “slavery”.

From the British perspective, nothing could be further from

the truth. The colonies, though rebellious, still belonged to

the Crown, and, by the standards of the day, British seamen

were well-paid, and generally well treated. Moreover, the

Royal Navy was by necessity, crewed by men (and

sometimes women, in disguise) from all over the world.

The average crew of a Royal Navy ship was a mixed bag of

humanity which hailed from England, Ireland, Ethiopia,

Madagascar, India, China, South America and all other

parts of the world, as the Captain of a Royal Navy ship was

ultimately responsible for recruiting the crew for his ship,

so he recruited wherever in the world he was. Not exactly

a formula for the attraction of a single race, monolithic

crew.

But this worked well for the Royal Navy, as the Admiralty

did not allow slavery on its ships. The men who made up

the leadership of the most modern and powerful navy in the

world were a mixture of the British aristocracy and naval

professionals who, for the most part, worked their way up

through the ranks. Many of these men were Cornishmen,

who had started their naval careers as young, 12 year old


43

Midshipmen, or “Young Gentlemen” as they were called in

the orlop of the lower deck.

These men, many the sons of doctors, shopkeepers,

merchants and cobblers therefore supported and defended

the dignity of their fellow crewmen, and the profession to

which they mutually belonged. They were not prone to

allow this profession, which demanded duty, honor and

courage as its namesake, to be tainted and disgraced by

stench of slavery. As early as 1847, the British Empire,

and ultimately the Royal Navy, led the world in its efforts

to eradicate slavery from every corner of the globe. The

empire fought slavery on against every European nation

including France, Portugal, Spain, and the Netherlands. In

the Royal Navy, an “able seaman” was an “able seaman”,

be he yellow, black, white or any other color.

Having served the majority of his life on board Navy ships,

Sir Peter had also shared his fears, dangers, berths and

victuals with men of every color, race and nation in the

world. He had seen bravery, cowardice, fear and daring

from these men who were his shipmates. He understood

the world of the Navy, what made it work and why it

worked. He knew that there were two mainstays which

held up the efficiency of the Royal Navy: The inherent trust

of a ship’s company in its officers and each other, and the

fairness with which the rules, laws, discipline, respect and


44

rewards, i.e. promotion and prize money, were equally and

fairly distributed.

This worked because the Navy way to success was

relatively simplistic: new ships, promotions to larger

commands and prize money went to those captains and

crews who stormed into the heat of battle, and were

successful in killing the enemy and taking their ships. The

officers that did not perform received assignments to hulks

in port, ship decommissions, paid-off crews and half-pay,

which effectively beached and/or ended their careers. The

system was not complicated, and you didn’t need a ‘Sea

Lawyer’ to understand it.

At 37, Sir Peter was not going to end up with the status of

an “Admiral of the Yellow”, which in effect, meant he

would become an Admiral with no Squadron to command.

In other words, he would be an ‘Admiral of nothing’.

As with today’s modern navies throughout the world, there

were very few real commands for 18th

century Royal Navy

Admirals to aspire to: Admiral of the Red (who

commanded the Red Squadron and also served as Admiral

of the Fleet), Admiral of the White (who served as Vice

Admiral of the Fleet and commanded the White Squadron,

and the Admiral of the Blue, who served as the 2nd

Vice or

Rear Admiral of the Fleet while commanding the Blue

Squadron). Each commanded a squadron that flew an


45

ensign appropriately colored to the rank of their

commanding Admiral.

Old, has been or non-performing captains, having served

their time in the Navy and no longer promotable, were

given the title ‘Admiral’ and then retired. It was the

original implementation of the famed ‘up or out’ system

that all modern navies utilize to this day. It worked then,

and it still works to this day in modern navies across the

globe.

In order to be successful, Sir Peter knew that in addition to

his current cadre of followers, he had to recruit, retain and

promote a larger following of industrious, smart officers

and crews who would assist him in his quest for rank, glory

and profit. And with Sir Peter, he didn’t particularly give a

damn where they came from, or what they looked like.


46

Jack Punch

Of


Chapter Four

Antigua

McKenzie stood staring out of the aft cabin window of the

Dame Célèbre, watching the churning froth of water caused

by the feeding frenzy of the ever present channel sharks


47

below. The water, now tainted bright red with the French

Captain’s blood, churned and boiled as the sharks fought to

devour chunks of their new found breakfast, the bloody

remains of what used to be the French captains head.

McKenzie had known Jack for over five years and was

somewhat surprised by Jack’s reaction to the French

Captain’s remarks. He had never seen Jack kill an unarmed

prisoner in cold blood before.

“My Gawd, Cap’n? Ya blow da mon’s head offen ‘cause he

call you Black?” He asked Jack.

“Hell, no, Mack.” answered Jack. “I blew his head off

because he called my mother a whore. I ain’t nobody’s

bastard! My mother and father were married for more than

30 years.”

Jack’s attention turned to the young girl chained to the

hammock, “And for another reason….Look at his left

sleeve.” He said as his mind strayed off.

McKenzie picked up the left arm of the French captain’s

crumpled remains and a small derringer clattered to the

deck.

“Ahhhh!” Exclaimed McKenzie. Now dat me understands!

Him make poor choice of words, den. Orders, Cap’n?”

Asked McKenzie.


48

“Aye, Mack. Get topside and have the cutter crew lock up

the prisoners, cat that anchor and get ready to make sail.

Then get back to the Punch, have the crew untangle us from

the bow spirit and get us under way. Tell them to hurry and

be ready to make sail. I’ll take over here. We need to get

away before the French patrols get wind of what has

happened.”

“Where we goin’, Cap’n?

“Hispaniola, where we can drop off the slaves. I think they

will have the best chance of survival there, and then it’s on

to Port Royal.”

“Aye, Aye, Cap’n.”

“And Mack, Ask Ol’ Timer to come aft to see to the girl,

and have him brings two of his mates to clean this mess

up.”

“Aye, Aye, Cap’n”

McKenzie left the cabin to get things moving on deck. Jack

walked over to the table and stared at the chest full of gold.

He set the empty pistol on the desk and picked up the ring

of keys the French captain had used to open the chest. He

opened the door to the wardrobe in the port corner of the


49

cabin and removed a cloak, which he wrapped around the

shivering young Jamaican girl. She looked up and him with

thanks in her eyes.

“How old are you, child?” asked Jack.

But she said nothing. Jack found the key to the locked

wrist iron holding her fast to the bunk, and removed it. She

then turned her eyes downward, and stared into the bunk.

“Fourteen, sir.” She said meekly.

“You called for me, Cap’n?”

At 72 years, “Old Timer” was the oldest member of Jack’s

crew. He had been at sea with Jack for the past seven

years. It was said that he left his home in Antigua after his

wife of 55 years, who was a midwife, died. Timer was a

kind, grey bearded wiry old gentleman, and served as the

surgeon’s mate for the crew, bandaging cuts, mixing

potions for the sick and usually responsible for tending to

the wounded. Timer dropped his eyes in disgust when he

saw the young girl.

“My God!” Exclaimed Timer upon seeing the girl.

“You go ‘head, Cap’n, I tends to the young lady.” said

Timer.


50

Timer found a shirt in the wardrobe and immediately began

tearing it up to make a bandage for her head wound. The

splash of the French Captain’s remains hitting the water

could be clearly heard as Jack left the cabin and headed

towards the forward hold.

As he approached the hold, the familiar sounds of rattling

chains, cries and moans met his ears, and at the same time,

the stench of slavery, that of rotting flesh, vomit, urine and

human waste attacked his nostrils. Before descending into

the hold, he held his breath to allow his senses to adapt and

his eyes to get used to the darkness. He then descended

into the hold. His men were already removing the shackles

and chains from the occupants and helping those that were

strong enough to move up on deck. As he passed through

the hold the men, women and children were grabbing at his

cloths, and kneeling in prayer to thank him for their

freedom.

As the last of the slaves were being helped to the deck Jack

was approaching the forward ladder of the hold which led

to the hatch above. Behind the ladder was a locked door

which led to the chain locker for the anchor. Jack was

surprised to hear a clear Jamaican voice from behind the

door:


51

“Hey Mon, don’t you be forget’n me here! I be inna chain

locker. Get de key and set us free, Mon!

“Who are you?“ asked Jack.

I be a Jamaican, Mon! Same as you! Now open dis door

and gimmie outa here!

Jack was surprise that the owner of the voice recognized

the Jamaican accent in his speech. He took the keys from

his pocket and opened the door. As Jack peered through the

din of the chain locker, he saw what appeared to be two

African girls and a skinny White boy shackled together,

with their hands tied behind their backs, around the

foremast stump.

“Where are you?” called Jack. “I don’t see you in here.”

The young man kicked Jack’s boot and said, “Close your

eyes, Mon, and listen to me voice ‘stead of glarin’ at da

color o’ me skin! Den you will know where I am, and from

where I be from!”

The two girls giggled as a shocked Jack jumped back

towards the doorway. Jack had heard many stories of

“White Jamaicans” who spoke and sounded the same as the

majority of Black Jamaicans, but he had never seen one,

and he had surely not ever heard one speak.


52

You...You are Jamaican?” stammered Jack.

“O’ course I am, Mon! Do ya t’ink I be talkin’ like dis if’n

I be from Boston? I be a Jamaican, Mon! Jus’ like you!

Now stop ya galkin’ and git dese shackles off’n me!”


53

Jack Punch

Of


Chapter Five

A New Direction

Governor Sir Basil Keith solemnly stared out of the

window of his mansion perched on the hilltop overlooking


54

Port Royal. He was obviously distraught. He turned around

to his desk, picked up his pen and began to write:

The 5th

of November, 1774

Your Most Gracious Majesty:

With respect to your concerns relating to the state of

preparation of the American colonies for war, I have this

to report:

The North Americans are amply supplied with Gun

powder and other Military Stores by the French in

Hispaniola; which is sold at an advanc'd price by the

Inhabitants who I find import great quantitys from Old

France, finding it such an advantageous article of

Commerce; But I do not learn that they get any out of the

Royal Stores or magazines.

Sir Basil was a man of torn emotions. As the son of

Britain’s “Landed Gentry” dating back more than two

centuries, he was rich in property, land and heritage, but in

reality he had sought this assignment to alleviate the

consequences of his real problem: he was poor in cash, and

then, as now, cash is king. His vast holdings at home would

be lost if he did not develop and provide industrious means

to support his inheritance, and the Governorship of Jamaica

provided him with the opportunity to implement and


55

support an ever expanding array of schemes that brought

him huge profits to pay his bills.

For in truth, the actual Governorship did not pay very

much, but it placed him in a position to profit from his

favoritism with the Crown, as he governed almost 14,000

whites, 4000 free blacks and almost 200,000 slaves that

lived in Jamaican territory. The West Indies was alive with

opportunities: The islands’ cheap labor provided the means

for his support of sugar cane plantation farming,

commercial trading, smuggling, privateering, and his many

other enterprises, both legal and illegal. This arrangement

was very convenient, as the determination of the legality or

illegality of such activities, were his, in the name of the

Crown. Sir Basil’s patronage extended far and wide,

throughout the entirety of the West Indies. As such, he was

known to be a powerful man in Jamaica, and few were

willing to risk the loss of his patronage.

As a die-hard Protestant, Sir Basil did not own slaves, but

this did not stop him from profiteering from the ownership,

sales and labors of slaves by others. After all, as the King’s

representative in Jamaica, it was his duty to protect the

trade and property ownership rights of all the Crown’s

subjects in Jamaica and its surrounding seas. This included

the legally owned property of British slave owners, the

slaves.


56

But in addition to his official duties for the Crown, Sir

Basil’s utilized his patronage to protect and develop his

profitable network of privateers. Privateers were privately

owned ships that operated under Letters of Marque that Sir

Basil could issue, in the name of the King. Sir Basil, and

other well-to-do investors, owned, supported, and, in the

name of and with the King, profited from the exploits of

these ships. These privately owned vessels prowled the

waters of Britain’s enemies on missions to capture, sink

and/or confiscate enemy ships and cargos which were then

sold on the open market.

The profits from these captures and cargos were enormous.

As the owner of a privateer, one half of the value of the

plunder gained from the ships activities went to Sir Basil

and the King, shared equally. Another quarter went to the

captain of the privateer, and the rest to the crew. Captured

enemy vessels were immediately purchased for their value

by the Crown and either put up for sale by the Admiralty,

or converted for use to further the efforts of the war. In

either case, the full value of the vessel, and its cargo were

realized in the pockets of the King, Sir Basil, and the

capturing crew.

It is through this arrangement that Jack made his fortune

and supported his livelihood. As the son of Sir Basil’s long

time friend and civic leader, Reverend Robert Perkins

(Jack’s father) of Jamaica’s largest church, the Mount Sinai


57

African Methodist Episcopalian Church, Jack’s experience

as mariner, leader and officer in the merchant service was

almost preordained. The two men had agreed on this path

for him whilst Jack was a toddler still learning to walk.

Consequently, Jack was a valuable asset to Sir Basil, and he

did not want to lose him and the profits of his services.

But, the arrival of his most recent visitor, the new

Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Navy’s Jamaica Station,

Admiral Sir Peter Parker, had made this loss a distinct

possibility. Soon after his arrival in Port Royal, it did not

take Sir Peter long to recognize the connection between Sir

Basil and the famed Caribbean commerce marauder, John

Perkins. The last heated words of Sir Peter were still

ringing in Sir Basil’s ears:

“I don’t give a damn how long you have known him or

what his father is. Nor do I care about the color of his skin.

I need an experienced pilot to protect the bottoms of my

ships! You will have this Perkins or Punch or whatever’s

arse is called to repair to the quarter deck of my flagship by

two bells in the forenoon watch, or by God, I will have

your hide before the King’s court to decide the matter!”

The knock on the door interrupted Sir Basil’s thoughts.

“Come!” he answered.


58

The door opened and Jack walked in followed by

McKenzie and Nick Butler carrying the heavy chest they

had removed from the Dame Célèbre.

“Good morning, Sir Basil!” said Jack. “I have come with

your share of the spoils of our last venture. You do not

appear to be in good spirits this fine morning. How are you,

Sir?”

“Welcome, Jack. It’s good to see you home and safe.

From appearances, I trust all went well with on The Punch

over the last three months?”

“Very well, Sir.” came the reply. “But, I am sorry to report

that we lost Asanni last month as we boarded our last

capture.”

“Damn!” Replied Sir Basil. “He was a good man. Have you

taken care of his family?”

“Aye, Sir.” He only had a brother, and we saw that he was

put away nicely.

“And McKenzie, how did you fare on this venture?”

“We does well, Sah!” Replied McKenzie. “Ah t’inks we do

much mo’ better dan our Frenchie friends.”


59

This comment gave Sir Basil a chuckle, and his eyes turned

to Nick Butler.

“And, who might this be?” Asked Sir Basil.

“I be Nicholas Butler, Sah, of His Majesty’s Ship

Dartmouth”

“The Dartmouth? But she was captured by the French last

March. How did you get here?”

“Aye, Dat she was, Sah. But de Frenchies don’ watch too

good, and when de guard him turn him back, I be jump’n

through the gun port, and I swims to de shore. Den de

French slaver crew catch me and locks me up ‘til Cap’n

here finds me on board chained to de mast.”

“Oh, I see, Ah,….Jamaican are we?” Said Sir Basil, as he

raised an eyebrow upon hearing Nick’s accent.

“Aye, Sah. Kingston. Born and bred.”

“Very well, Jack, I need to speak with you, about a

personal matter. Have a seat, please.”

Sir Basil motioned to the men to place the chest in the

corner of the room, and, sensing that Sir Basil wanted some

privacy; McKenzie and Nick moved towards the door.


60

“We waits outside, Cap’n.” said McKenzie. He and Nick

then proceeded to leave the room and closed the door as

they left the two men alone.

Sir Basil walked around to the other side of the desk and,

with his back to Jack, stared outside of the window

pondering where to begin and how to approach Jack with

his problem. Finally, he spoke:

“Jack, what do you think of the Royal Navy?”

“I have worked with their ships on many occasions, their

officers can sometimes be rather harsh, but they seem to be

fair enough.”

Sir Basil turned to face Jack. His face was stern, and

somewhat sad. He spoke slowly and deliberately:

“Well, Admiral Sir Peter Parker, the new Commander-in-

Chief of the Jamaica Station just left here. He apparently

saw your last action with the Dame Célèbre, and I have

been “requested“ to ask you to consider joining his ship.”

“Now why would I want to do that? I ‘m doing just fine the

way things are. What do they want with me?”


61

“He now knows that you know these waters better than any

man in the Caribbean, Jack. You proved it to him when you

took the French slaver, his intended prize, from under his

nose. He couldn’t bring his ships into the harbor for fear of

the reefs. So now he knows who you are and what you can

do. As you are a British subject and an experienced

mariner, he can have you and your crew pressed as Able

Seamen.”

“Pressed? What does he want me to do?”

“He wants you to report on board his flagship tomorrow as

his Pilot, on the Antelope. He will sign you on as a

Master’s Mate in the Royal Navy. He also said that any

members of your crew that wishes to sign on with you are

also welcome. Your choices are not too good here Jack.

You are a British citizen. You either report tomorrow or

run from the press. Then you would have to keep on

running, until they catch you.”

“But, Sir Basil, I –“

Sir Basil waived his hand, and cut Jack off.

“Jack, Your father and I have a long history together. If

there was something I could do I would. But England is at

war, and I have no choice. If I were to disobey the order

and give you another commission, you and your men would


62

be considered pirates, not privateers. I cannot cross the

Admiralty, and I cannot continue the Letter of Marque for

you and the crew of The Punch. It’s best for you and your

crew to report by two bells in the forenoon watch as

ordered. The matter is settled, Jack.”

To hide his sadness, Sir Basil turned his back to Jack,

placed his hands behind his back and starred out of the

window. Jack stood up and walked towards the door.

“Jack?” called Sir Basil.

“Yes Sir?”

“Listen to Sir Peter, and learn. He is a good man, and a

progressive man. There is no telling where your future

could go if you could convince him to be a patron for you.

Good Luck, Jack, and for God’s sake, be safe.”

“Aye, aye, Sir.” replied Jack.

Jack opened the door and left the room. Sir Basil moved

from the window behind his desk to the side window, and

watched Jack and his men leave the compound. He then

stared at the chest of gold Jack and his mates had brought

him. For the while, at least, he knew there would be no

more.


63

“Damn!” he said in disgust.


64

Jack Punch

Of


Chapter Six

Two Bells in the Forenoon Watch

In the nautical world, crew duty hours were, and are today,

divided into either two or four duty groups. Each group is

known, assigned work and referred to on board as a

“Watch”. The watches are numbered sequentially, i.e. a


65

crewmember may be assigned to the “First Watch” for

example.

It is also necessary to understand that the term “watch”

onboard a vessel actually has two meanings; (1) the

working group to which a crewmember belongs and (2) the

specific duty time period of the day that a working group is

assigned to work ; i.e., “be on duty” or “on watch”.

When on duty, the watch (working group meaning)

performs all duties associated with the running of the ship.

This includes navigation, keeping a lookout for other

vessels, weather patterns, sailing duties (sail trimming and

handling on sailing vessels and engine operation on

powered vessels) and so forth. A leader, called the Watch

Officer, who may be either an officer or a senior enlisted

man (such as the Master, or a Master’s mate), bears the

responsibility for the proper performance and completion

of all tasks his group must execute to run the ship during

his “watch” (duty time period meaning). In other words, if

something goes wrong while he is in charge, it is his fault.

It is from hence, the dual meaning of the term “Watch”,

and the responsibility that is associated with it, that caused

the rise of the old, well-worn nautical statement; “Not on

my Watch!” as this statement is actually three different

statements; (1) “I will not allow this.” (2) “It is my time of


66

responsibility for everything that happens.” and (3) “I am in

charge!”

The hours and times that a watch (the working group

meaning) performs duty is determined by seven “time of

the day” work assignment periods, and each of these

periods is also called a “watch”. The time of the day

“watches” cycle every 24 hours, and each is normally, with

two exceptions, a four hour working duty period.

Each watch period has a name; the “First” watch runs from

8 PM to Midnight, the “Middle” watch from Midnight to 4

AM, the “Morning” watch from 4 AM to 8 AM, the

“Forenoon” watch from 8 AM to Noon, and the

“Afternoon” watch, Noon to 4 PM. In order to allow the

crew to all have dinner around the same time, the final four

hour period, from 4 PM to 8 PM, is divided into 2 two-hour

short watches which run from 4 PM to 6 PM and 6 PM to 8

PM. These two short watches are called the “First Dog

Watch” and “Second Dog Watch” respectively.

The splitting of the final period and therein the addition of

another “Watch” brings the total number of watches to be

manned on a ship to seven for a 24 hour period. As the

watch time assignments are alternated between the

“Watch” groups of the crew, the duties of running the ship

are spread across and distributed evenly amongst the crew.


67

Inasmuch as clocks and other timepieces were rare and

expensive during the colonial period, ships used an

hourglass, which ran through every one-half hour, to tell

time. When the hourglass was restarted bells, which could

be heard all over the ship, were sounded to tell all aboard

the time, in one-half hour periods relative to the remaining

time of the ongoing watch.

The number of bells rung designated how many half hour

periods had expired during course of the watch. For

example if the watch started at 8 PM, when the hourglass

ran empty and was turned over at 8:30 PM, one bell would

be sounded indicating that the 1st one half hour period of

the watch had expired. At 9:00 PM, two bells would be

rung, and so forth. The end of a normal four hour watch

and the start of the next one were announced by the ringing

of eight bells.

The ringing of the bells served as a tool to tell all the ships

company when they were expected to be on duty for their

“Watch”. These practices, and the understanding of the of a

ship’s company and duty assignment periods, lead to the

common nautical practice of telling time by a number of

“bells” that would be rung relative to the name of the

watch period in effect during the day on board a working

ship.


68

The next morning, at two bells in the forenoon watch (9:00

A.M) Third Lieutenant Phillip Affleck was on duty as the

Watch Officer when Jack and his crew reported on board

the HMS Antelope.

Affleck and the ship’s Purser, Mr. Kratch, watched as each

of Jack’s men climbed the Jacobs ladder from the jolly boat

below. As each man stepped on board they turned to salute

the quarterdeck. The process was quiet and orderly, for as

each man of Jacks crew reported to him each would give

his name, rank and qualifications. Inasmuch as he had

repeated this process in many ports, and on many previous

occasions, he had acquired an eye for experienced seamen

and could spot them by their shipboard mannerisms. He

knew that experienced seamen had a specific way of

climbing a Jacob’s ladder and stepping on the deck while

holding their sea bags. If Affleck wasn’t sure of the

particular qualifications of a particular man reporting to

him, one or two pointed questions would quickly sort the

issue out.

Affleck leaned over the railing and shouted down to the

mass of humanity in the jolly boat:

“Step lively, gentlemen, let’s get a move on. Admiral

wants to make sail before the suns over the yardarm. Move

smartly now!”


69

McKenzie, the first of Jack’s crew reported to him.

“Name?” he asked.

“Thomas McKenzie, Gun Captain, last of the Punch, Sah.”

“Experience with 24 pounders?”

“Aye, Sah. I be a gunner on the Albacore fo’ two years

afore she paid off.”

“Very well. Kratch, sign him on as a gunner’s mate. Make

your mark and report to Lt. Kitel below. Next!”

“Nick Butler, Able Seaman, of His Majesty’s Ship

Dartmouth, Sah.”

Although his appearance was somewhat scruffy, Lt.

Affleck snapped his head upwards at the sound of Nick’s

voice. He stepped over to him, grabbed Nick’s hand and

shook it vigorously. “Nick! Where the hell have you

been?” We thought you were dead!

“Aye, Sah. And so did the Frenchies! But I be back to help

dem out som’ more! It’s good to see dat you be on de deck

again too, Sah.”


70

“Make your mark, Nick, and welcome aboard. Then go

forward and report to bosun Snight. He’ll be glad to see

you also.”

“I don t'ink he be dat happy to see me agin’, Sir. Me an’

Snight had a row about a lady in Lucia, last year. Could be

he be still tink’n ‘bout her a bit, Sah.”

“Jesus, Nick. Still drinking, raising hell and chasing

trollops, What?” Anyway, it’s good to have you back,

Nick.”

“T’ank you, Sah. It be good to be back on a King’s ship

agin, Sir!”

To the man, all of Jack’s Punch crew volunteered to join

him in his new profession, on his new ship, The HMS

Antelope. In some respects, this was actually an

improvement in their lives, as life on a privateer, which are

always smaller and more crowded than the ships of the

Royal Navy, was in fact a bit less comfortable than their

new accommodations. They knew that their new situation

would provide them with a continuation of the opportunity

to earn prize money, and bring on the additional benefits of

“three squares” (three hot meals a day, served on square,

wooden plates), a hammock, and regular pay.


71

Jack’s complement of 60 new souls barely made a dint on

board the massive crew of the Antelope, which carried a

crew of 400. They easily blended into the social order of

the lower deck, and, as experienced seamen, were

welcomed on board to share in the duties of working the

ship. The press usually produces a large complement of

farmers, day workers and other “landsmen” as they are

called by the experienced seamen. These men are usually

ignorant of the ways of navy and shipboard life and

consequently, they are considered to be somewhat

unreliable by the experienced crewmen until they learn

their way around as a call to “belay heaving”, or “make fast

that line” meant nothing to a landsman.

Jack’s crew brought with them a complete knowledge of all

of the nautical skills, language and experience required for

them immediately become useful contributors to the

working of the ship. Therefore, no one had to take time to

explain the difference between a clew and a cleat, or a

bollard and a binnacle to them. They were already familiar

with the terminology associated with these parts of the ship,

as well as the intended purposes and usage of those items.

As the last man to report, Jack stepped across the coaming

and onto the deck.

“Name?” asked Affleck.

“John Perkins, Master, Punch.”


72

Lt. Affleck looked up to Jack standing before him. The

surprise on his face was obvious, and the ship fell silent, as

all the officers and men who were all busy loading stores,

holystoning the deck and attending to the many duties

required to get a ship of the line underway, all stopped what

they were doing, and turned to get their first look at Jack.

“So, Perkins, you are the infamous Jack Punch.” Said Lt

Affleck. “We have been expecting you. Funny, I though

you would be……taller.” said Affleck with a wry grin.

“Make your mark, and follow me.”

As Jack shook his outstretched hand he said nothing,

picked up the pen and carefully signed his name. Affleck,

noting that Jack could read and write, said. “Oh, excuse me,

Mister Perkins.”

“Kratch, carry on here. I have been instructed to escort Mr.

Perkins to the Admiral’s cabin upon his arrival. This way

please, Mr. Perkins.”

By this time, Sir Peter had become very much aware of the

skills of Jack and his crew as his men had been combing

the bars and brothels in Port Royal to learn more about

them and their successes. He was now also aware of their

allegiance to their leader, and he desired to have these skills

and allegiances as a part of his squadron. In preparation for


73

his first meeting with Jack as a crewmember under his

command he planned to ensure Jack that he would allow

him and his followers to achieve that which they would

have done on their own, and more.

As Sir Peter was an proven leader of men, he knew that

true warriors did not trust their lives to men with titles and

property, but only to men that they believed in and that

could be trusted to stand at their sides in the midst of shot,

shell, blood and death. It was now time to convince Jack

that he was that type of man. The knock on his cabin door

brought Sir Peter back to reality.

“Admiral Parker, John Perkins here to see you, Sir.” Said

Affleck.

“Enter.” Came the reply. Affleck opened the door and led

Jack into the ornate cabin.

“Able Seaman John Perkins, Sir.” Said Affleck.

“Ship’s Pilot, John Perkins, if you please, Phillip.”

corrected the Admiral. “Please see to the change in the

ship’s muster book, and inform Mr. Dobson, the Master,

that I would like to see him. And Phillip, would you see

that Mr. Perkins’ affects are placed in the cabin next to that

of the Master, if you please? Have a seat Mr. Perkins and

thank you, Lt. Affleck.”


74

“Aye, Aye, Admiral.” replied Affleck, somewhat

chagrined. As he left, he closed the door to the great cabin.

“Governor Basil sends his compliments, Sir.” said Jack.

“He said that you needed an experienced Pilot, so I am here

as ordered, Sir.”

“Thank you, Jack. But what I need is more than a pilot.

What I need is an aggressive, battle hardened ship leader

and commander who knows the Caribbean and knows how

to fight. I had the opportunity to watch you in action, and

then your uncle told me about you so I had a few of my

crew ask around.” said the Admiral.

“And what did you find out about me, Sir?” asked Jack.

“I found out that you have apparently done quite well for

yourself, and that the French, Dutch and Spanish cannot

stomach the sight of you and your notorious Punch!”

chided the Admiral.

The Admiral continued:

“Jack, You are quick witted and intelligent, and you move

in and out of the different cultures of these islands with

ease. You speak Spanish, French, and the King’s English

fluently. You have passed yourself off as a free Black, a


75

slave and the Master of one of the most successful

privateers in these parts. You apparently have the ability to

hide in plain sight. I need someone like that. I need

someone who can get up close, look and listen to what is

going on and tell me what my enemies are planning. I need

someone with the leadership and command experience that

can help me kill these bastards and rid this region of their

presence. Jack, I believe that you are that man. I intend to

make you an Officer in the King’s Navy and give you a real

warship to help me kill the enemy.

“A Black ship Captain? In the Royal Navy? Admiral, with

all due respect, that has never happened in the Royal Navy.

I find that dream hard to fathom, Sir.”

“We are at the beginning of a new world, Jack. Traditions,

beliefs and values are changing quicker that you believe.

As of this moment, I can’t bring you on as a Mid, you’re to

old. But, I can make you a ship’s pilot, and move you in

the direction of a field commission to Lieutenant.

Slavery and racism will not last forever, Jack, and, thank

God. It cannot. As you know, at this very moment, slavery

has been outlawed in the British Isles. Nations cannot exist

in the modern world with half of its people being free and

half being enslaved. England almost had a civil war over

the issue of slavery. It will not work in today’s era of free

trade and commerce. So now we are out to eliminate it

from the world.


76

“Admiral, I know what you say is true. But the French,

Dutch and Spanish are up to their necks in the slave

business, and they are getting rich supporting it in the

Americas.”

Aye, Jack. But as Brits we have learned that the economic

advantages to be gained by free trading and global

commerce will far outstrip anything that can be gained by

the continuation of slavery. If slavery last another 25 years

in the Caribbean, I would be surprised. We must begin to

prepare the world, and the Royal Navy, for the new age, an

age based on a man’s achievements and abilities, not his

color. So, while you’re here, Jack, I want you to prepare to

take the Lieutenant’s exam.”

“Lieutenant’s exam and the end of slavery? Beggin’ your

pardon, Admiral, but I don’t see the Admiralty ever letting

me become any kind of officer in the Royal Navy, much

less a Captain of a King’s ship. I don’t see how that will

happen in my lifetime.”

“It will happen, Jack, and I am going to see to it. What you

don’t know is that the Admiralty needs money to finance

this war, and aggressive captains who capture the enemy’s

ships are providing it. We sell the ships and the cargo, and

the prize courts split up the money between the Crown, the

Admiral in charge, and the captain and crews of the


77

capturing vessel. For the time being, I believe that what

London doesn’t know about you won’t hurt them, and by

the time they do find out, they will be too busy counting

their money to care. In the meantime, you and I will be

very well off.”

With this, the Admiral stared Jack straight in the eye, and

offered his outstretched hand. Jack appreciated the man’s

straightforwardness and conviction, to both the Crown and

his beliefs about men. Moreover, he believed him, and was

beginning to trust him. Jack reached out and firmly shook

the Admiral’s hand in agreement.

“Very well, Admiral.” said Jack. “If you believe that we

can do this, then we shall sail together on this journey.”

“Jack, you trust me, and I promise you, it will happen. We

have to start somewhere, and as an experienced Pilot, I can

bring you in on the King’s Payroll. For right now,

officially, you are a Ships Pilot and your crew is a part of

this ship’s company. But later on, I see you rejoining your

crew and operating in more of, shall we say a detached

capacity.”

“Detached, Sir?” queried Jack.

“Aye!” Grinned the Admiral. “Very detached! But, we

will start here to get to our ultimate objective. I want you


78

to report to Captain Stanley. He will introduce you to Mr.

Dobson, the Master of this ship. As a master’s mate,

Dobson will teach you how to use a sextant, and the basics

of navigation. Learn what Dobson teaches you for you are

going to need it. That is all, Jack. Please report to Captain

Stanley.”

“Aye, Aye, Sir.” said Jack.


79

Jack Punch

Of


Chapter Seven

Snotties

It was now 1778, and after more than two years of service

on the HMS Antelope Jack, and his Punch gang was

considered to be an active part of the crew. The squadron,


80

which included the HMS Ruby, the HMS Niger, the HMS

Lowesloffe, and the HMS Bristol, continued to blockade

the island of Hispaniola (now the split island nations of

Haiti and the Dominican Republic) with specific focus on

the ports of Santo Domingo and Port O’ Prince.

This was tedious work, as the ships and crews of the

squadron had battled storms, bad weather, reefs and the

French continuously for the past three years. But as long as

the good Admiral kept the French fleet bottled up, they

could not aid the American colonies, nor mount an attack

on Jamaica and the other British colonies. Moreover, the

British fleet stopped and inspected every ship laden with

any cargo whatsoever, thereby preventing the belligerent

American rebels from getting access to slaves, shot, power

and money needed to support their war with the Crown.

As the ship’s Pilot, Jack used his privateering knowledge to

guide the Antelope, or any of the other many ships he was

assigned to through and around the dangerous reefs, rocks

and coral barriers which were scattered throughout the

many islands of the Caribbean. He and his crew had also

proved their worth by participating in many seizures,

onshore cutting expeditions and battles of the squadron.

Jack’s normal duty would be to stand by the helm station

and, at the behest of Captain Stanley, direct the ship in and

out of the many harbors and coves they frequented while


81

searching for, finding and destroying and/or capturing the

enemy’s ships. His additional duties included being

boatswain (master) of the longboat, which was used to lay

and retrieve the Antelopes’ massive anchors, to carry

messages and bring supplies to the flagship. As a warrant

officer, Jack also assisted Mr. Dobson with the charting and

planning of the navigation of the fleet. His most tedious

duty, however, was being more or less in charge of the

young Midshipmen (or “Mids” as they were commonly

called on board), a duty that is traditionally performed by

the Ship’s Master.

On this day Jack was seated in the Master’s cabin, finishing

the cleaning and polishing of the sextants that he would

take up to the quarter deck for the Mid’s noon navigation

class. This class was conducted daily by Mr. Dobson. The

class commenced each day with the noon sighting. This

noon sighting determined the official latitude and longitude

of the ship, which was then entered into the ship’s log as

the exact official position for that day. Jack assisted Mr.

Dobson in these efforts by making sure that all of the

sextants were properly maintained and in working order for

the ship’s “Young Gentlemen”, and occasionally

supervising the class with the determination of the sighting.

The term “Young Gentlemen” was indeed quite a

misnomer, for the ages of the six boys ranged from eleven

years to almost twenty-seven. Moreover, their individual


82

temperaments ranged as far apart as their ages. Jack’s

youngest charge, Thomas Kilkenny, was a high-spirited,

handsome youth of 11 years who was the grandson of the

Admiralty’s Second Sea Lord, and he was a indeed a

handful.

Young boys on ships were a common practice in the Royal

Navy. They were sent to sea either by families that could

not afford to support them, or by well-to-do families that

wanted a sea-going career for their soon to be gentlemen

sons. Those without social standing were assigned duties

such as being a “Powder Monkey” who transported bags of

gunpowder from the ship’s magazine below to the gun

decks during battle, and as or various departmental helpers

to the ship’s cook, carpenter or surgeon for example. The

Powder Monkeys wore felt slippers to prevent sparks from

being created by the nails in their shoes. Their job was to

move the dangerously explosive bags of gunpowder from

the ship’s magazine to the guns and cannon located around

the ship during battle. The boys assigned as Cook’s

Helpers always smelled of cooking grease.

The boys with parents that enjoyed social standing and had

adequate resources and connections (read: Money) entered

the service as Midshipmen. But even this life was a very

hard life for a young boy. Many were literally brought to

the ship and torn away from their mother’s arms by a

rough, foul tempered Bosun’s Mate, leaving both the


83

mother and the child screaming, scratching and crying in

tears and despair. After this horrific experience, and the

shock of separation, the new, young Mid would spend

many homesick hours in the cold environs of the crowded,

foul smelling orlop deck of the ship crying for his mother

and his now lost home comforts.

Legend has it that the three buttons on the cuffs of the Mids

dress uniform jacket were placed there to prevent them

from wiping their tear-stained runny noses on their sleeves

and thereby ruining their uniform. Hence they were given

the nickname “Snotties” by the crew.

The common value of the Mids was that to the man, they

each wanted to be an officer in the Royal Navy, and, some

day, to command his own ship. For Jack, who was charged

with keeping them from running around the ship and doing

a vast array of stupid, life threatening stunts, it was difficult

to see them in command of anything, for he spent much of

his time trying to persuade them to stop running across the

decks, climbing to dangerous heights in the rigging or

playing “Hide and go seek” or “tag” throughout the ship.

When the offences were truly bad, Mr. Dobson, the Master,

would administer punishment by having the Mid bent over

a cannon and be the recipient of several well founded

strokes of discipline across his bare bottoms. This sort of


84

punishment would generally get the youth’s attention, and

thereby restore order.

By this time, Jack was very frustrated. It was now 1779

and he had been on the Antelope for the better part of three

years. Under Mr. Dobson’s tutelage, Jack had learned to

use the sextant to take the noon sightings, determine his

latitude and longitude, plot the ship’s course and speed, and

read and relate the maps of all of the cays, bays and inlets

of all the islands in the Caribbean to the map coordinates.

He had added all of this new knowledge to the practical

knowledge he had already gained from his privateering

experiences prior to “volunteering” for service in the Royal

Navy. Jack was ready to do something different.

Just then a knock came on the door, and Nick Butler poked

his head inside.

“Hey, Cap’n! How da ol’ boy be doin’ dese days, Mon? I

be worried ‘bout ya, cause ya be lookin’ a bit grumpy de

otter day when ya be chasin’ Lil Tommy round da foc’sl!

Him damn near git away from ya too!

“No shit.” answered Jack. “The little snotty ran under the

anchor windlass and slid down the for’d ladder without

even losing a step, much less slowing down. I finally

caught him by the seat of his trousers when he tripped over

the midship hatch cover. Captain Stanley was so pissed


85

that he wanted Tommy’s arse bent over a 12 pounder but I

talked him out of it.” said Jack.

”Aye! Him be a fast l’il bastard!” Nick said with a

chuckle. So l’il Tommy almost “kissed the gunner’s

daughter” fo’ dat one, eh?” Laughed Nick. “Me ‘n

McKenzie all saw ya doin’ ya duty and laffed our arses off!

Somebody say somtin’ bout you done fall from Cap’n of a

ship to “Snot Nurse!”

“You and McKenzie can kiss my arse, Nick!” Jack retorted

with a grin. “Tommy is a smart kid, a bit high strung

because he’s so short, but he’s a good kid. He will do well.

“Now what’s up?” I know you didn’t stop in here just for a

social call. What are you and the crew of the old Punch

buzzing about?”

“Aye, Skipper. Scuttlebutt has it dat deys tinkin’ ‘bout

splitt’n us off ta do somtin’ stupid!. We’s hopin’ to git

back to som reel cruzin’ and reel prize money. We was a

tink’n ya might knows somtin’ ‘bout it, Sah?”

No, Nick, I haven’t heard a thing. But if I do get wind of

anything, you know that I will think of the Punch gang

first, and you will be the first to know. Pass that on to the

crew.”

“Aye, Sa’. So’s I will. Tank’s Cap’n”.


86

Jack Punch

Of


Chapter Eight

Farley’s Foot

Through the blackness of the November night, Jack could

see the tops of the bare poles of the Antelope’s mast

swaying violently as the wind howled across the deck.


87

Two bells had sounded, indicating the middle of the Second

Dog Watch. As Officer of the Watch, Jack hung on to the

mizzen brace to steady himself against the sheets of rain

and sea water that poured across the deck. He also took

intermitted stints at the large tiller wheel to help the

helmsman fight to keep the ponderous vessel on course. His

little Mid nemeses, Tom Kilkenny, stood beside him.

Just then the ship was struck by a large wave and, in an

instant, violently heeled from starboard to port. Little Tom

was not holding on to anything solid and therefore lost his

footing. The abrupt heave of the deck left him in mid-air,

careening towards the open gun port on starboard side.

Jack managed to get his hands on Tom’s slicker and hold

him before he sailed out of the gun port and into the storm

whipped Atlantic Ocean.

With his powerful arm around Little Tom’s waist and

Tom’s feet dangling behind him, Jack carried him back to

the centerline of the ship and then set him down next to the

binnacle (the sturdy wooden mount stand bolted to the deck

to house and protect the ship’s compass) to recover. Tom

was soaking wet, cold and obviously terrified by the almost

near-death experience.

“Always remember, one hand for you, and one hand for the

ship, Tom.” Jack scolded.


88

“Aye, Aye, Sir.” Said Tom.

Little Tom was unnerved a bit but looked up and smiled at

Jack as he held him against the slope of the deck. This was

definitely a night to follow that practice. The velocity of the

wind was again increasing, and the Antelope began to heel

to starboard to the point where her gun ports would soon be

awash.

“Mr. Kilkenny, please inform the Captain that the Officer

of the Watch requests that we take in a reef before we tack

to port” Jack said to Tom.

“Aye, Aye, Mr. Perkins.” came the reply. Young Tom

turned aft, faced the blinding rain and, while clinging to the

lifelines strung to keep the men from washing overboard,

began to pull himself aft towards the ship’s quarterdeck to

reach the captain’s cabin and make the request.

It had been a hard day, for the squadron had spent it

chasing a convoy of heavily laden French merchant ships

escorted by a French 74, The Gendarme. The Gendarme’s

escort included two frigates, an armed brig and a schooner.

The weather was miserable as it was in the middle of the

hurricane season. The tropical storms had been gathering

in speed and intensity over each of the six days since the

initial sighting of the convoy off the island of Aruba. The

storms proceeded in their customary direction to the


89

nor’west, marching like soldiers across the Caribbean. As

such, the storms would continuously allow and then thwart

the Antelope’s chase as they marched through the area.

There would be a sighting by one of the squadron’s forward

patrolling schooners, a flurry of signals ordering

continuation of the chase, and then another storm would

blow through, bringing more rain, lost visibility, and

subsequently a lost of the sighting of the convoy as the

enemy would change course under the cover of the storm.

The wise old French Captain continually utilized the cover

of the storms to lose its pursuers. Throughout the day this

process had repeated itself to the point where the crews of

the all the squadron’s ships were exhausted and they were

no closer to their prey than they were when the sun rose

over the yardarm that morning.

Below decks, Ol’ Timer, who, at Jack’s suggestion was

dubbed a surgeon’s mate, lay asleep in his hammock. The

hammock was swaying wildly with the motion of the storm

tossed ship. It was apparent that neither the violent motion

of the ship, nor the water dripping on Ol’ Timer’s belly

from the overhead had any affect on his ability to get in a

good nap. Now off watch, he was snoring loudly, and slept

through it all.

Many of the recently pressed landsmen around him were

new to this world, and as such were not accustomed to the


90

tormented swaying and rocking environment of the lower

deck. They were coughing, heaving and puking as the

others in the packed lower deck were trying to eat their

evening meal. Most of the landsmen were too sick to

move, much less eat, as the ship banged and pounded

across the stormed tossed Caribbean Sea. McKenzie, Nick

and their new messmates were eating at the mess table

which dropped from the overhead over their assigned 24

pound cannon.

“How the hell does he do that?” asked Farley, one of the

new landsmen brought in by the press. “How can he sleep

through this madness?” Pale as a ghost, Farley doubled

over, turned away from the mess table, and began to heave

out his just eaten meal on the deck. McKenzie, his new

messmate, grabbed him by the scuff of the neck and

directed the putrid flow into the scuppers, which ran

adjacent to the hull (the inside walls) of the ship where they

met the deck. The water pounding and pouring in through

the leaking hatches collected in the scuppers, and Farley’s

vile mess, along with that of the other sick members of the

crew, washed and sloshed down to the scuppers, where it

eventually went overboard into the sea. The cramped,

dank, and dark lower deck was filled with the odors of 200

sick and unwashed men. The whole scene, which could

have emanated from the far reaches of “Dante’s Inferno”

was one which simultaneously defiled all of the senses and

tolerances of modern man.


91

“He been doing dat since ‘afore you was born, boy.”

answered McKenzie. “Don worry, you be getting’ used to

it too.” He said. “Now, drink your Tot an’ soon you won’

feel a thing.”

“I don’t think so,” said Farley. “I think I’m about to die.”

It was at this point that the ship heeled over almost 90

degrees from the starboard tack to port, and everything,

plates, dishes, dinners and tots of rum flew off of the mess

table swinging over the cannon and went crashing to the

deck. This shift caused the weight of the cannon under the

mess table to shift and roll downhill until it overstrained its

lashings, and the more than three tons of iron broke one of

its restraining lines. The cannon began rolling across the

dangerously tilted deck towards Farley, and McKenzie,

seeing what was about to happen, jumped from his stool to

grab the lashing line and secure the cannon.

Unfortunately, the wheel of the cannon caught Farley’s foot

before McKenzie could catch the line. Farley began to

scream like a scalded dog. McKenzie grabbed a handspike

to move the cannon off Farley’s foot and the other men of

the mess raced to grab the errant cannon’s tackle lines.

Straining against the weight of the cannon, there were

seven or eight men attempting to move the cannon off of

Farley’s foot, but it was a no go. The tons of dead weight


92

were just too much for the men to move up the 60 degrees

of slope in the violently rocking world of the lower deck.

Ultimately, it took all eight men of McKenzie’s gun crew,

Nick and several other men of the adjacent gun’s mess

several minutes to wrestle the cannon uphill to its’ position

back at the gun port, and to free Farley’s foot. As

expected, Farley’s foot was now a bloody mess.

“Pass de word for the surgeon’s mate!” yelled Nick.

Nick and McKenzie watched as Ol’ Timer and two other

surgeon’s mates collected Farley and helped him limp to

the surgeon’s station in the orlop. They then up-righted

their stools to sat down to eat what remained of their

evening meal.

“Well, him didn’t die!” said McKenzie.

It was just at this point the shrill calls of the Bosuns Mate

screaming:

“All hands on deck to shorten sail!”

“Oh, Damn!” cursed McKenzie. “Here we goes up de

poles agin’ in dis miserable shit storm.”

“Ya,” said Nick, “Farley didn’t die, but me t’inks him foot

did! At least he be missin’ dis crap, de lucky bastard!”


93

Jack Punch

Of


Chapter Nine

Where the Antelope Plays

Perkins emerged from the aft companionway just as a

world of water poured over the starboard weather rail.


94

Instantly, he was soaked to the bone and almost swept off

of his feet by the foaming surge of seawater. He clung on

the to lifeline and pulled himself hand-over-hand to the

midship helm station where jack was standing next to the

three helmsmen as they were all fought to hold the ship

steady in the middle of the storm. He motioned to Jack that

he wanted to tell him something and cupped his hand over

Jack’s ear.

“Jack, de Admiral wan’ to see you in him cabin, Mon.”

yelled Perkins over the wind.

“What’s up Uncle?” asked Jack.

“I not sure, but I t’ink deys all planin' som’ting big.”

Replied Perkins. “Dey been yellin’ and fussin’ in dere fo’

more dan an hour, dey has.”

“Who’s ‘they?” asked Jack.

“He be with Captain Montrose, Captain Stanley, Lt.

Affleck and Mr. Dobson.”

“Very well. Mr. Collins, you have the deck.”

Ezra Collins, one of Tom Kilkenny’s fellow Mids, was

about 14, and unlike Tom, was a bit tall for his age.


95

Aye, Aye, Mr. Perkins.” yelled the young midshipman,

elated at the opportunity to be in command.

Jack followed Perkins to the cabin door located under the

poop deck and removed his dripping wet greatcoat. He

hung the greatcoat on one of the pegs inside the hallway

and knocked on the cabin door. Over the din of

conversation in the cabin, he heard Admiral Parker shout

“Enter!”

Jack entered the cabin. Admiral Parker and all of his staff

were gathered around the great table of the cabin, in a big

discussion around a large chart of the Caribbean. This

discussion was spirited, and somewhat heated.

“Jack!” exclaimed Admiral Parker. “Come over here and

look at this chart. I want your opinion on an operation we

are planning.” Jack walked over to the table and looked at

the chart. The other officers fell silent and continued to

stare at the chart.

“Gentlemen, for those of you who do not yet know, our

Master’s Mate, Mr. Perkins here, was also known in these

parts as “Jack Punch” the Master of the Privateer Punch.

As Master of the Punch he has captured and sunk more

enemy ships than any man in the Caribbean. I want you to

welcome him to our wardroom.”


96

Captain Montrose stared at Jack with his mouth open. He

had seen Jack many times going about his duties, but he

had just come to the realization that Jack was the man that

robbed him of his prize some three years earlier.

“John Perkins…Jack…Well, I’ll be damned! So you are

the feared privateer raider people have been talking about

in these parts! I saw your work years ago, and all this time I

had no idea who you were!

“Thank you, Sir.” said Jack, “I will continue to try to do my

best to make the enemy remember me as well as you do.”

“Jack, I asked you here to get your opinion on an action

that we are planning, and I can’t think of anyone who has

more experience in this area of operations than you do.”

continued the Admiral. Pointing to the chart he asked Jack,

“Do you recognize this island?” Jack looked down at the

chart.

“Aye, Sir.” Said Jack “That is Saona island, just leeward of

Santo Domingo. There is a narrow passage between the

island and the mainland, but it is much too shallow for this

ship.”

“Jack, we have reason to believe that our French friends are

using the natural harbors in San Christobal and the Nicola

Mole as a staging points for privateers attacking our


97

shipping. We also believe that the privateers are actively

involved in supplying the colonies while protecting the

French transports full of sugar and coffee. They do all this

while raiding British ships headed back to England. Do you

know anything about that?”

Jack looked around the room at the faces in the room. It

was obvious that Captain Montrose, the oldest of the four

gentlemen, had very little interest in anything that he had to

say. On the other hand, Captain Stanley, a slim, energetic,

red haired gentleman, seemed to hang on every word, as

did his new found friends, Lt. Affleck and Mr. Dobson.

“The ships of which you speak are in the harbor at San

Christobal. They use it as a re-supply and victualing point

and they sail in and out under the protection of the fort until

they are behind the island. There they can wait for the

wind and tide until they can weather the headland and head

to America.” I have been there many times, and each time

I have found many ships in the harbor loading slaves and

powder for the colonies while they re-supply for more raids

on British shipping.”

“The traffic moves from the Mole at Cape Nicola around

the island to Port O’ Prince, and then continues to San

Christobal. There they offload and re-supply, and then

continue their voyages to the American Colonies. They

repeat the process in the other direction as they head


98

towards France and Spain. The French, Spanish, Dutch and

American Colonies are all working together against a

common enemy, us. They are all heavily involved in the

slave trade, and equally heavily involved in trading powder,

shot and supplies to support the Colonies.” Jack continued.

“Exactly!” interrupted Sir Peter. “The system of heavily

armed forts, protected bays and harbors, and shallow back

channels prevents our fleet from being able to intercept the

bulk of the shipments, gentlemen. We have to devise a

tactic which will interrupt this trade and choke off the

Colonies. The enemy knows we are here blockading the

harbors. They also know that we cannot move fast enough

to pursue them into the shallows. We need a fleet of quick,

shallow draft vessels to be able to move inshore. From that

vantage point we can track, chase and capture enough

vessels to build pursuit squadrons that are better designed

for that purpose, and I intend to utilize the skills of Mr.

Perkins here, and his crew to get to those ships.

Captain Montrose, who was in charge of the Antelope’s

contingent of marines, stood behind the Admiral peering

over the map. At the mention of the potential use of Jack

and his crew his facial expression changed to one of

skepticism. In his vision, the only way to accomplish the

mission was with a large naval battle between two large

naval fleets, followed by a land battle to take the forts and

the town. He obviously did not relish the idea of depending


99

on a rag-tag bunch of convicts and ex-slaves to lead the

charge into the enemy. After a quick turn around the cabin

he addressed the Admiral:

“Sir, with all due respect, it appears that what we need are

the resources, in the form of ships, men and artillery to

accomplish this goal. Why don’t we apprise the Admiralty

of the situation, and then petition them for what we need?

This would seem to be a much better approach than some

hair-brained scheme based on a bunch of - “

“Sailors, Captain!” Interrupted the Admiral. “Well trained,

well led, experienced sailors who are masters at the art of

cutting out ships from under then enemy’s nose. Our navy

is stretched to the limit, so we will get our ships, crews and

supplies from where we now stand. You would be well

advised to look, listen and learn Captain. The Admiralty

has already informed me that they have nothing more to

spare for our campaign. The Royal Navy is already

fighting three wars stretched across three continents. We

are therefore left to our own devices to be successful in this

sphere of operations. We must use ‘hound and hare’ tactics

to be successful, and here is how we are going to do it…...”


100

Jack Punch

Of


Chapter Ten

Sir Peter’s Plan

3:00 A.M., November 27, 1778

Seated at the tiller of the longboat, Jack surveyed his

surroundings. It was a pitch black, moonless night with

hardly any wind at all. He looked over the 30 odd souls in


101

the longboat as they methodically, and quietly pulled

against their muffled oars. Behind him he could barely see

the outline of the other six boats that had been assembled

from around the fleet as they too pulled themselves silently

to the shore. Each man carried a cutlass and pistol which

had been carefully wrapped in rags and placed under the

thwart upon which he was sitting. Rags had also been

wrapped around the oars to ensure that the enemy did not

hear them clanking and rattling in the oarlocks as they

rowed to the shore.

The plan was actually quite simple. Jack and the other five

boats comprised a force of about 300 men. It was now

3:00:A.M. on Sunday morning. There were three enemy

ships in the harbour: one frigate, a brig and a small

schooner. Three of the fleet’s boats, which comprised

about 150 men under Lt. Affleck, were assigned to

overpower the crew of the frigate, while the other two boats

would do the same for the brig and the schooner. Jack and

his men were assigned to take the brig. The other men

were to enter the town from the back side and use the dark

alleys and small streets to quietly work their way to the

dock. At 4:00 A.M. all of the crews were to quietly move

in, overpower the sentries on board and capture their

respective ships. Knives and cutlasses were the order of

the day, and no shots were to be fired to alert the nearby

fort. They were then expected to cut the dock lines, head

out to sea and meet the fleet.


102

The Antelope, and the rest of the fleet, were standing out

more than a mile from the shore, where they remained

readily visible from the harbour. The boats had been

loaded with the ships under full sail, from the off-shore side

of the ships, thus preventing the ever present French

lookouts and sentries from having a view of the landing

preparations. They then rowed towards the sea, away from

the shore, in the shadow of the ships from which they had

each departed. While this forced the boat crews to row in a

wide circle to get to the shore, it prevented any possibility

of the enemy’s detection of their presence. The landing

was planned for a rocky shoreline about a mile south of the

harbour, but the wide circular course provided a three mile

pull to reach the shore. As they were now rowing parallel

to the shoreline within 250 yards of the landing spot, Jack

could see that his men were getting a bit winded from the

long pull.

Farley, who had only lost two of his five toes on his left

foot and was now back on duty, leaned over to Nick and

whispered, “Jesus, Nick, long pull ain’t it?”

Nick rolled his eyes up in his head in expectation of the

verbal abuse that he was about to receive:

“Quiet!” admonished Jack. “You want us to all be killed

before we leave the damn boat? No Talkin’!”


103

Jack headed his longboat for a landing behind an

outcropping of rocks that would shield the boat from the

lights of the harbor to his right. When the bow touched the

shore, McKenzie and a marine in the bow of the boat

silently stepped out and eased the bow up on the shoreline.

They then crawled up to the road running along the shore to

watch for patrolling sentries. Half of Jack’s men, led by

Nick, followed. Upon reaching the beach, they silently

slipped across the road and began to make their way

through the dense underbrush towards the brig.

Jack and Meechum, one of the Antelope’s petty officers,

and the remaining crew eased the longboat back into the

water and headed in the direction of the harbor. They

deftly moved in the shadows of the shoreline as they

silently rowed towards the brig. Upon reaching the bow of

the brig, Jack reached up and secured a stern line to the

brig’s anchor while Meechum silently tied on another line

to the brig’s Jacob’s ladder. They then hunkered down in

the darkness and waited for the other half of his crew to

reach the brig. It was then that Jack heard footsteps

approaching his side from the deck of the brig.

He looked up to see a French sentry, lighting his pipe while

sitting on the port side taffrail at the stern of the brig.

Fortunately, Jack’s boat was in the shadows of the brig’s

bows, and the sentry did not look down below himself to

spot Jack and his men.


104

“Wait here.” Jack whispered. He reached up to the brig’s

bowspirit and pulled himself up. He then straddled the

bowspirit and slowly crawled aft until he reached the deck

of the ship. He slipped on board and silently hid behind the

starboard bow chaser.

More footsteps. Still puffing on his pipe, the sentry stood

up and began to walk towards the bow of the brig, looking

out into the harbor as he slowly strode along. When he

reached the bows of the ship, he stood silently and took a

long pull on his pipe, his final one.

Jack flashed across the deck, wrapped his hand over the

sentry’s mouth and snatched his head back while

simultaneously slitting his throat. He held on to the

sentry’s lifeless body while grabbing his musket. He then

eased both the sentry and the musket down quietly to the

deck. Wasting no time, Jack signaled for Mckenzie and his

men to come aboard. As the men arrived on deck, he

motioned to Mckenzie to take half of his men below and

secure the sleeping crew of the brig and the other half to cut

the lines which secured the brig to the dock. Jack took his

cutlass and cut the bow line securing the brig to the dock.

He then ran over to the other side of the bow to signal

Meechum to begin to warp the brig away towards the sea.


105

It was then that all hell broke loose. Jack heard screaming

curses in French from the schooner docked behind the brig,

a single shot and then, almost as suddenly, the schooner

erupted in a ball of flame. The explosion lifted him up and

sent him flying into the forward stays of the brig, which

entangled him and prevented him from being blown

overboard.

Through the din of smoke and flame, he could see

screaming, dying men in the water around what remained

of the schooner, and burning pieces of the schooner landing

on the brig. He pulled himself up by the forward stays and

looked to see if Meechum and the longboat crew were still

there. Of the 15 men in the longboat, the rear most two

men had been caught almost directly in the line of the

explosion, and while one was completely blown out of the

longboat and floating face down in the water, the other was

doubled over, screaming in pain with a huge splinter from

the schooner lodged in his chest.

“Meechum!” Jack yelled. “Get us out of here, now!”

“Aye, Sir!” came the response. “C’mon you lubbers! Pull,

Pull for God’s sake!”

As the brig began to ease away from the dock a hail of

bullets began to hit the ship. Jack looked up to see musket

flashes from the upper windows of the buildings adjacent to


106

the dock. Apparently many of the French sentries, who

would normally be on board the docked vessels, had

decided to avail themselves of the better accommodations,

and the better female company that was available in the

town’s bordello district adjacent to the dock. They were

now standing out on the balcony and utilizing their

positions of advantage to rain musket fire down on Jack

and his men. Jack looked aft and noted that the sailor sent

to cut the brig’s stern line was now slumped over the

taffrail, dead. The ship was still tied to the dock.

McKenzie and Nick emerged from below.

Nick! Jack screamed. “Load that cannon and take out those

snipers!” Jack ran to the stern rail and began to hack off

the stern line to the dock. Just before he cut the last strand

on the dock line, the forward bow chaser erupted, and the

balcony and half of the top floor of the snipers vantage

point disappeared in fire and smoke. It was then that

McKenzie ran up to him and yelled:

“Skipper! Look! We got wounded comin’” Jack turned to

look back at the dock and saw about fifteen of the

remaining men sent to cut out the now sinking schooner

dragging themselves, and two of their wounded mates,

toward the brig. The French frigate captured by the other

boats was already underway and headed out to sea. The

remaining British sailors and marines from the sinking

schooner had no way to leave. Jack knew he couldn’t leave


107

them here as the French would kill them. Jack held up on

cutting the last strand of the dock line.

“Nick, move your crew to the port stern chaser and keep

firing! Mac, grab a musket and come with me!” he yelled.

Jack jumped to the dock on a dead run with Mac following

closely on his heels. The schooner’s prize crew was

stumbling towards them, still dragging the two wounded

men. They were under fire from the windows of a building

across from the burning remains of the schooner. Jack and

Mac took cover behind a load of barrels stacked on the

dock and used their muskets to provide cover fire for the

stumbling prize crew. When the crew reached their

position, Jack and Mac each dropped their muskets,

grabbed a wounded man and raced towards the brig.

Musket balls were whizzing by their heads and striking all

around the dock as they ran. It was then that the stern

chaser of the brig roared and belched a plume of fire. The

second floor of the warehouse disappeared and the musket

fire ceased.

“T’ank God fo’ Nick!” said Mac.

When they reached the brig, they lifted the wounded men

on board. Jack took his cutlass and cut the last strand on the

dock line. The brig was now free, and Meechum and his

crew had warped it around in position to catch the land

breeze.


108

“Make Sail!” yelled Jack. “Give me every stitch of canvas

on this bucket! Nick, get your men moving on that jib and

then take the helm. Mac, hoist the main and get Meechum

and his crew on board.”

“Skipper!” yelled Mac. “What you wan’ to do wid da

Frenchies?”

“Give ‘em a choice” Yelled Jack,, “You can shoot ‘em, or

they can have a nice swim to shore!”


109

Jack Punch

Of


Chapter Eleven

Pig Boat

January 12

th, 1779

Perkins, carrying a tray with the Admiral’s customary

morning tea, whispered to Jack: “Jack, Cap’n Stanley

wants to see ya. Somtin’ bout some pigs!”

mailto:[email protected]


110

“Pigs?” Jesus, thought Jack, another boring trip in the

longboat for supplies.

From their first meeting Jack knew that Captain Stanley

was not exactly one of his supporters. The good Captain

had earned his way to where he was, and he didn’t care for

“Hotshots who burn their way through to the top of the

Navy.” Moreover, he thought Jack, and those like him,

should be and remain at the rank of “Able Seaman” for the

entirety of their career. But he was true Royal Navy, and

ensured that whatever his superiors said was the way things

should go. So, while he didn’t exactly hinder Jack’s

progress in the navy, he didn’t support it either. In Captain

Stanley’s eyes men like Jack did not “fit” the traditions of

the Royal Navy, and should be respected, tolerated, and

when possible, passed over.

Jack followed Nick out of the cabin to the amidships

longboat chocks where Captain Stanley was standing with a

small map spread out over the ships binnacle. “Did you

send for me Sir?” asked Jack, saluting.

“Yes, Jack, I did. Admiral Parker and I want you to return

to Port Royal for supplies and dispatches. Here is the

purser’s list of items. Please choose up about 50 men to

help you load and store, and then leave on the evening

tide.”


111

That’s quite a load for the longboat, Sir. I don’t think she

will hold 50 men plus the supplies.” Answered Jack.

“You are not taking the longboat.” The captain interrupted.

“You are to see Admiral Parker for the details of your

assignment.”

Taking a step back and saluting, Jack replied, “Aye, aye,

Sir.”

It was obvious to Jack that Captain Stanley did not truly

support whatever the Admiral had in mind for him. As

Jack made his way to Sir Peter’s cabin, he read over the

purser’s list of supplies. It was a short one:

10 Casts Madeira Wine

60 Casts Fresh Water

200 bushels Fresh Potatoes

30 Live Pigs (To be delivered around the Fleet)

“Oh, my God.” Thought Jack. “Pigs. 30 Stinky, filthy,

squealing pigs.” The longboat crew, which included many

of his former Punch crewmates, hated transporting any type

of livestock, especially Pigs. Pigs foul up the boat’s hold

(which had to be cleaned up) and cause havoc amongst the

crew, as they hated the feeding, tending and poop

management duties that went along with them. Also, when

the shifting seas allowed the slippery bastards to get out of


112

their pen, they had to chase them all around the ship to be

caught and re-secured. This did not appear to be the

beginnings of a good cruise.

Jack arrived at Admiral Parker’s cabin and knocked on the

door.

“Come!” Came the answer.

Admiral Parker was seated at his desk, finishing the last of

the dispatches that Jack would carry to Port Royal. The

Admiral looked up with a terse grin.

“Have a seat, Jack.” He said and then continued his writing.

Finally, the good Admiral set down his quill and looked

Jack squarely in the face.

“Jack, you have done your time as pilot and master’s

mate.” He began. “Now I want you to do what you do

best. Have you seen the latest issue of the Gazette? It has

an article which describes your recent actions at Cape

Nicola.”

Jack picked up the Gazette and read the article:

“Extract from a Letter from Vice-Admiral Sir Peter Parker,

Commander in Chief of His Majesty’s ships at Jamaica, to


113

Mr. Stephen Thompson, dated on board the Antelope July

22nd

, 1778, a list of prizes taken by the squadron under his

Command on June 10th

, 1778 from the Mole at St. Nicola:

1778. June 26th

. French Frigate Le Gideon, 320 Tons, Jean

Monopy Master, of 32 Guns and 230 men, by Lt Affleck of

the Antelope.

Ditto. Brig La Juan Elizabeth, taken by ditto Orman

Coustor, Master and Owner, 120 Tons, 8 cannon, 20 Men,

cut out and taken by the boats of the Antelope, Captain

Stanley”

“What does this mean, Sir?” Jack asked.

“What does it mean? It means that London now knows of

you, Jack.” answered Sir Peter. “Even though your name is

not mentioned, everyone knows that you and your crew cut

out that brig. She has been purchased for naval service by

the Crown. The public announcement in the Gazette

officially tells Captain Stanley and all of your mates that

they will share in the prize money that we get for her.

Everyone now understands what you can do. That’s what it

means. It means we are ready to begin to do what I brought

you here for in the first place. Look aft, Jack.”

Jack walked over to the large windows facing aft in Sir

Peter’s spacious cabin. There, riding at anchor was the two


114

masted brig that he had captured last June. He had not seen

her up close since her capture she was immediately taken

by another prize crew to Port Royal for a refit, and at the

time of her capture Jack was to busy trying not to get killed

to really get a good look at her. He now noted that she

about 70 feet long with clean lines and a broad forefoot of

the American design. Jack thought she was beautiful and

perfect for commerce raiding and prize work.

“I have re-named her HMB Punch, Jack, in honor of your

old command. As of now, she’s yours.” The Admiral

continued. “She’s carried on the Royal Navy Ship List as

the “Tender to the Fleet”. She was built in the Colonies in

1761 and purchased by the French two years ago. She is a

bit old, but still very fast. I am giving you temporary

command of her, as a warrant officer.

“I’ve seen her at a distance many times, Sir. She sails

around the fleet delivering casts of wine, potatoes, and

other supplies. I think she will be perfect for inshore work,

Sir.” Said Jack.

“Aye.” Said sir Peter.” Right now, she’s unarmed, but we

will fix that. She has a shallow draft like the old Punch, but

she is nimble and fast. I believe that with a proper

commander, she should be just as quick and maneuverable

as your old command. I want you to show me what you

can do with her – work the bays and Cays inshore where


115

our draft is too deep for us to enter. You have three weeks

to make the best of her abilities, and to prove to these idiots

in London what you can do with her.

“I, I though you wanted me to take her to Port Royal, and

pick up a load of pigs, Sir.” Stammered Jack.

“Pigs my arse, Jack! The pig trip is just a ruse to keep the

Admiralty watchdogs off my back. By assigning you to the

fleet tender they will envision you loading potatoes, unions

and water casks to serve the pleasure of the fleet. They

have no problem approving such a duty for you as fits their

feeble minded mental picture of what they think you are

qualified to do. I will get no complaints for such an

assignment. But what I really want you to be concerned

with is this letter The Bristol intercepted from a French

packet captured yesterday. It is a French dispatch to the

rebel headquarters in Philadelphia. Here, read it.”

Admiral Parker handed Jack what appeared to be the

second page of a letter he took from his desk:

CAPE NICOLA MOLE, JUNE 10, 1779.

…..The French here are, to a man, in favour of America.

There are ten thousand men in this island, one thousand

here, who, with five hundred Negroes, are busy employed

in building forts. A French frigate arrived the other day


116

from France, with orders to the General to protect all

American vessels. A pilot boat belonging to a merchant in

Philadelphia, was taken by the British he day before

yesterday and sent to Jamaica; a French frigate of thirty-

six guns, and a guarda-costa, which last hoisted

Continental colours, were immediately sent after her, with

orders to follow her into Port-Royal harbour, if they could

overtake her before, to demand her. What will be the

consequences only time will discover. The French were

very much exasperated at her being taken, which was

within two leagues of the land.

“This letter was intercepted yesterday. Continued Sir Peter,

so if you get a move on, you can catch them. With a good

wind and hard sailing, you can make Port Royal and back

in two days. But remember, I don’t want pigs. I want you

to find the enemy, close with him and kill him! I want you

to take the Punch, overtake those French bastards trying to

retake those ships and capture them. On your return, I want

you to take the long way around and cruise between Cape

Nicola and Port O’ Prince, inshore, like you know how to

do. While the fleet and I are watching the front door, these

bastards are using shallow draft vessels to sneak everything

from cannons to ships-of-the-line to America through the

back door! You and the Punch will close that back door.


117

“But Admiral, once they know that I am in command,

won’t they assign another officer to take over the Punch?”

asked Jack.

“Hell no, Jack. By the time the Admiralty realizes that you

are in command of a Royal Navy fighting ship, they will be

too busy counting their prize money to give a damn where

it’s coming from. They will just not want it to stop! You

have to trust me Jack. Are we clear?”

“Aye, Aye, Sir.” Jack responded.

“Very well, then. Put four 6 pounders on board the Punch,

and make sure all of your men have a full complement of

rifles, power and shot. Also make sure that each man has a

pistol and cutlass. We expect you to conduct yourself as

the commander of a Royal Navy vessel, which means that

should you see enemy suspect vessels, we want you to take

whatever action you deem necessary.”

It was then that Admiral Parker looked at Jack with a wry

smile of mutual understanding and said:

”Good luck and good hunting Jack. The trip should take

about four days, but take your time on your return. I told

Captain Stanley to put an entry into his log that officially,

you were assigned to the fleet tender to transport and

distribute a large load of pigs to the fleet. Board and


118

commandeer any enemy ship you encounter, Jack, but

don’t make a liar out of me. Just make damn sure that when

you return, you have my pigs!”


119

Jack Punch

Of


Chapter Twelve

Commander, His Majesty’s Brig (HMB) Punch

As he left the admiral’s cabin, Jack pondered how he was

going to take on a heavily armed and well manned French

frigate with an aging brig, but he had longed for this day


120

for three years, and now he once again had his own

command, His Majesty’s Brig Punch. He knew that once

he had his own deck under his feet, he would work out the

details.

In the middle of his thoughts he passed Nick Butler and

McKenzie who were down on their knees performing the

daily morning ritual of holystoning the ship’s decks. He

stooped over and whispered in Nick’s ear:

“Nick, pass the word and get the Punch gang to join me at

the longboat. We have another mission to perform for

King and country, so we might as well make a reunion out

of it.”

“Aye, Skipper. We all heard that you had been promoted

to Pig Captain! Ya wants me to git someone to watch the

snotties while we’s gone?” Chided Nick.

“Keep talking and I’ll leave you here to watch them!”

retorted Jack. “Now you and Mckenzie hurry on and round

up the crew. I will square your release from this work with

the Bosun.”

“Aye, aye, skipper.” Said Nick as he dropped is holystone

in the bucket. “C’mon Mac” Nick said to Mckenzie. ”Hell,

I rather be clean’n pig shit den crawl’n ‘round here on me

hands and knees!”.


121

It took the better part of the morning to dismount the

cannon, hook up the block and tackle to the main yard, and

swing them out over the towering sides of the Antelope.

One by one they were lowered ever so gently into the

longboat for transit over to The Punch. This was followed

by the arduous task of swinging them over the side of the

Punch and remounting them on their cradles on the deck,

and then helping the carpenter from the flagship set up the

tackles so they could be secured and fired.

Dotter Meechum, the Antelope’s second oldest petty

officer, was promoted to the Punch’s Bosun. Dotter was a

heavy set fellow, about average height but strong as an ox.

Jack chose him because the crew respected Meechum and

looked to him for directions and advice on everything from

proper line handling to shipboard life.

Jack directed Meechum to hurry the crew along in that the

time to load and secure the cannon, powder and shot on the

Punch was extremely limited. Meechum, sporting his new

ceremonial round rig (the well-known tall navy bosun’s hat

indicating his new position) and starter rope in hand,

encouraged the members of The Punch crew to move

quickly with discriminate swats across their rumps with the

starter rope. Meechum spotted Farley leaning across the

barrel of one of the six pounders talking to a fellow

crewmember. He reinforced Farley’s sense of urgency


122

with a stinging swipe across his buttocks with the starter

rope. Farley screamed out in pain:

“Ooooch, Boats! Ya’ needn’t be swattin’ me like that! I’m

a’ workin’!”

“Like hell you are, ya lazy pallyyard! Ya be dere beat’n

your gums and mashin’ ya’ arse!” Retorted Meechum.

“Now get a move on!”

The bulk of Jack’s old Punch crew didn’t need very much

persuasion, as to a man each was eager to get off the

mighty Antelope and avoid the back breaking work it took

to keep a ship of that size in working order. So they

approached the new task with zeal and enthusiasm. As

much of the new Punch’s crew consisted of the remaining

members of Jack’s original Punch gang, there was not a

great deal of persuasion for Meechum to do. They were

eager to get back to independent operations with Jack, and

more than ready to collect and count the prize money that

was sure to come.

As they worked, Admiral Parker would occasionally stride

over to the forward railing of the poop deck and peer down

at the men laboring in the heat. Jack knew he was checking

the progress of his new crew.

When all the stores were loaded, Nick, Mckenzie and the

crew went over the side into the longboat boat below. In


123

preparation to leave the ship, Jack issued his final report to

Captain Stanley, who was standing at the base of the

mainmast.

“All stores loaded Sir. The Punch is ready to sail.

Permission to leave the ship Sir?” He asked as the knuckled

his forehead in salute.

“Very well, Perkins. Just one more thing before you leave,

If you please.” responded Captain Stanley.

“Yes, Sir?” queried Jack.

“I mentioned to Sir Peter that you might have need of a bit

of additional help with your new command, so I suggested

that you take one of the Mids with you.”

“A…A…Mid, Sir?” stammered Jack. “Which one?” He

asked with a look of exasperation.

“Thomas Kilkenny, of course, I am told the he’s your

favorite…..” Captain Stanley continued, with a grin: “The

trip will do the boy good. And Jack, I really do believe you

can use the help.”

At that moment little Tommy stepped out from behind the

mast with his sea bag and a broad smile. Jack was


124

obviously taken aback by this change of events, but he

weathered through it.

“Thank you, Sir. I am sure he will be exactly…. what we

need. Come along, Tommy, into the boat with you.” said

Jack.

With a big smile, Tommy scampered past Jack and across

the deck. In a flash he was over the side and into the

waiting longboat. He had obviously engineered this whole

affair with Captain Stanley when he heard that Jack had

received his own command.

“Permission to leave the ship is granted.” said Captain

Stanley. “Good Luck, Captain Perkins.”

Jack knuckled is forehead in salute to Captain Stanley and

strode across the deck. The crew, watching this comical

turn of events, had a great laugh, for they knew that L’il

Tommy had been Jack’s greatest nemeses, and that Jack

was of the belief that with his new assignment, as

Commander of His Majesty’s Brig Punch, he was done

with his ‘Snott Nurse’ duties.

Apparently not, thought Jack.


125

****** The End *****


126

About the Author

Charles J. (Chuck) Royster, Jr. was born in

Washington DC where he attended Howard

University and received is B.A and M.A. in

Economics. He is a retired CEO of a computer

systems management firm that he co-founded and

managed until 2007. His current interests include

writing, boating, nautical and military history and

research. Chuck and his wife Cecelia live in

Gaithersburg, Maryland. They have three children,

Tara, Jamelle and Charles III. If you enjoyed this

book, and would like to read more, please e-mail

your comments to [email protected].

mailto:[email protected]

Documents

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