The Black Rose A Christmas Sea Tale

This happened to me when I was a little one and I only knew the whole story when I met an old sea captain who explained how it came about. And this is how he told it to me. It was like he was there. I know I was.

The storm had slowed its pace and finally broke into easy winds and slowly mounting swells. The skies were streaked with grey clouds over grey seas and all around under that was deep blue with white crests breaking but with little force. The sea was becoming a kitten once more and it was just in the nick of time. The crew were exhausted and the sails only had bare thread holding them together. 

Captain Ezekiel Banks stood at the helm with Robbie on the long tiller. “We still got her in sight and she is a might worse off than we, Robbie?” It was more of a statement than a question and Robbie knew not to answer, just to nod. They had been together on the Black Rose for three years and he knew his skipper quite well. The Captain shivered with a stray chill, then a relaxation after it that let him enjoy a slight comfort in his tiredness.

He looked out at his men laying around the deck in fall-where-they-may positions of weariness. It had been almost thirty-two hours of handling sail to keep that ship in sight. He smacked his salt caked lips and tasted them.

“Tyrell” he yelled to the boatswain, “ the boys need a little pepper in their blood. Give rations and get that cook a kick, the boys need grub.” That brought a slight stir to the men, a lifted head toward their leader, a shaking of a head here and there among the twenty-one members of the crew. More as a whisper, he said to Robbie, “We might do with a wet and crumble ourselves, eh?” Robbie nodded and the Captain took the tiller, letting the man go into the cabin to bring back a flask and some soft cake dressed in a clean cloth napkin.

The day moved the clouds away, setting them on the horizon as marching cumulous. The sky etched itself in wedge wood blue and the seas gained a greener pale. But the men had no time for the romance of the sea. They were concentrated on bringing close the storm wounded merchant ship not a mile distant now. Every inch of cloth that was not rotten was stuck up on yards, gaff, swab handles and rigging. 

Off the wind the small brig, a third longer than Black Rose, should have moved away from the Sloop and they were trying to do just that in the storm. Then the Perseverance sprung their main mast and only had the spanker set and the two lowers in an almost soft sea and lighter than heavy wind. She still had the foremast in tact though and were giving the boys a run for their treasure.

Tyrell came aft to the Captain’s side, “We’ll have ‘er an hour before the sun sets, sor.”

“We better, Tyrell, or these mobs won’t have no fight left in them.”

“Don’t worry about a fight, the boys are game after all they went through with this little bark. Be good to get her whole, sor, wouldn’t that be a prize. I could have her in shape in no time, that fine line of a French wench.”

“I would also like to see her running under my touch, Tyrell. Let’s try and see to it then. Maybe darkness will assist us and they be superstitious.”

As the sun lowered to the West the Perseverance was not more than two hundred meters away, the Black Rose’s long bowsprit drawing circles at her name and rigging in a slight swell that had developed as a fomenter of more bad weather. This had to be done now or never, was in the minds of the crew, armed with muskets, pistols, swords and knives.

“Now men, yell them to hell” cried their Captain as musketeers on the bow began shooting at the stern of the merchantman. The men responded by screaming and yelling what they were going to do to the running crew once they caught up to them and were not nice in their language. They gestured with short swords and long knives pointing them at the faces over the stern taffrail as they closed the gap. 

Two small swivel cannons faced them aft but nobody seemed to have the heart to light them and shoot at the pirates. The boys could see arguments going on in small groups on the quarter deck as a white sheet was run up the spanker gaff and the sails all loosed allowing the Sloop to come alongside. Then they opened their six gun ports, ran out the cannon to all the boys’ surprise and let loose a volley at close quarters ripping the Black Rose’s sides to splinters and many of the waiting men into another world.

The Captain was stunned to an open mouth with no words. His men were already starting to moan and search for a way out of their circumstance as the guns were rolled in for another volley to be prepared. Captain Banks pushed the tiller hard to port and the Black Rose responded immediately as though she wanted none of this either. The Captain would not look astern but knew they were rolling out the guns again. He looked down at Robbie laying on the deck, a big splinter in his side but a smile on his face.

“I’m sorry ol mate.”

“Me too. Wanted to marry that wench back on Grand Cayman.”

Captain Ezekiel Banks remembered floating down looking up at the lighted crosses of sea fetch until they darkened and there was no light at all. Then he was on the deck of the Black Rose again with a mission. The whole crew were there and they all knew their jobs. The Rose was pulling at her jibs on a beat to windward without a trace of luffing, on a fine tack, on a fine day.

There was something, but Banks did not have time to think what it was, that put him here in this position sailing his little Sloop at her best. He remembered that he died, or did he remember that? Was that all a dream, and he had just fallen asleep after the long haul to get that merchantman? He looked around the horizon and saw no other ship, but he did not mind at all. He was happy. Captain Ezekiel Banks was not a taciturn man but he was also never contemplative about his emotions, except maybe when he had drunk too much.

The Islands were sighted just as the light fell from the sky and they charged onward to a cut Banks had never made before but knew he could. They pulled up to anchor just down from a few meagre lights in some hovels that he saw earlier. The gigs were put over the side in a rush with no man speaking a word. Sacks were tossed down and secured as they set oars and rowed ashore, crunching into soft sand still warm from the day’s heat.

The men crouched low, sacks slung over their shoulders, a short sword clanking dully every now and again, given a quick shush by somebody in the dark.

At the first house, he looked in at a family of five children sitting at a rough table with a big pot being dished from by a large lady. There were many candles lit around the place and everybody seemed to be lightly joking with the other. A man looked around at his children and told them all the hush up. He bowed his head to wait for his wife to join them. He started a prayer as the lady sat putting a young one on her lap.

“Lord God ahigh. Thank You for keeping our family from the great perils that fill this world, from the hatred that some men feel in their hearts, from the envy and coveted-ness of those long gone from these shores. Thank you Lord for providing the skills I need to feed my family on this most Holy of nights. Our babies have round tummies and my wife yields me up as many as I can plant. We are grateful that You on Your High love us enough to allow us this time in paradise. Amen.”

“Amen.” Everybody said.

“Now, children, what day is this?”

“Christmas.” They all screamed expectedly.

The man reached into a burlap sack and pulled out an apple and gave it to the eldest near him, who passed it on with a bright smile to the next and on down the table to the mother, whose small child was trying to grab. They all laughed as the father passed apples around the table.

“Now, y’all ain’t to eat them apples ‘til Christmas dinner done.”

“Yessir, Papa” they all laughed out together. 

The father noticed a noise outside and instantly rose and ran over to the door, suspecting crabs but hearing no dogs barking. At the door he found two sacks. He looked around but saw nobody. He pulled the sacks inside and opened the first one to find a freshly cooked goose in waxed paper and boxes all wrapped in oil clothe. He tried the other sack and found boxes only. The eldest boy neatly opened the oil clothe covering to one box and found a new Bible. Another long box held a new machete. Another had a rag doll in bright colours. 

The father went to the doorway again and looked all around. He climbed a small rise and saw out at sea an old Bermuda Sloop in moonlight sailing fast through the reef where there was no cut.