A Lighthouse Gang Adventure
by
Frank Mosco
NOTHING IS AS IT SEEMS.
OR IS IT?
Scheduled for publication 2008, by Quillquest Books as a Quillquest Junior Book releases.
ISBN0-9769272-5-X
Curently available as a screenplay.
St. Augustine, Florida
- 1687 -
Three cannon on the deck below fired successively, spewing a heavy cloud of smoke that swept up, whirled past Cane and twisted into the shrouds. The tall robust Captain stood firm, not blinking an eye, savoring the smell of the spent powder as it mixed with the salty heat of late August. He impatiently glared at the fortress objective across the bay, the Castillo de San Marcos. Would this be the volley that would break their will, he wondered to himself as he watched one round fall just short below the crest of the Castillo, lodging itself into the soft shell stone. The remaining two shots of his cannon however screamed over the top of the high thick coquina wall and from within the Castillo Cane could hear the screams of fear and desperation from the huddled population of the Spanish town who took refuge there. Then another round of cannon shot exploded from the Alithea, the Jamaican Prince's sister ship anchored nearby in the bay. Again he watched and waited for a signal of surrender.
"Three long days. Day and night. Do these people have no senses? Are they so daft as to fail to hear and feel our guns?" grumbled Cane.
"Perhaps we should lay waste the town, Cap'n," suggested the Master Gunner from his station on the gun deck.
"I'll not destroy the thing we've come here for," Master Gunner Allen. "It's the very town we want. A most strategic base from which to plunder all Spanish trade. A place from which English ships and English soldiers can control all of Florida."
"But have we not taken the town, sir."
"Eye we have, thanks in part to the fair share of the cowardly Spanish garrison fleeing into the woodlands. Indeed our men walk the streets this very moment. Yet I ask of you, what good be it then to have a town with no people? Would you have a cannon with no shot and powder? If so, would you be no more valuable or useful than a crab without legs?" laughed Captain Cane.
"Why then the haste, Cap'n." The town's people are hold up in their Castillo. Our prisoners for sure and just as surely to give way to our demands in due time."
"Aye, in due time, and most likely sooner than later though it is not my haste, Master Gunner Allen, but more a matter of the wind," said Cane as he turned and pointed to the southeast. "Yonder, Master Gunner. See yonder to the southeast comes a storm and in front of said storm comes a Spanish fleet up from Cuba. Their journey hastened by a swift wind I'm sure and just as surely to arrive ahead of schedule. We will need their Castillo and need their guns as well as those of all our ships to fend them off else we risk certain peril."
As Cane spoke a lone cannon fired from atop the Castillo. The ball whistled over their heads and splashed into the bay behind them, another failed effort by the novice townspeople working the gun in the absence of their garrison. The men aboard the ship burst into laughter until they saw Cane staring with concern to the south and the Sebastian River. They turned and looked to discover the third ship of their small fleet, the Tristram, sailing toward them. Commanded by Captain Hayward, the Tristram had been anchored near Matanzaz Inlet twelve miles down river at the far end of the barrier island to guard that southern most approach to the town. When the Tristram eventually glided to their side, Captain Hayward desperately called to Cane with unsavory news.
"Spaniards!" he hailed to Cane and the company of the Jamaican Prince. "Spaniards! Two ships approaching from the south, entering at the inlet. Three others rounding the island to close off the bay and our escape! Galleons, sir! Galleons of many guns!"
Upon hearing the news, Captain Cane rushed to the rail and ordered Captain Hayward to join with the Alithea then make haste north up the coast to the St. Johns River. There to find safe harbor from the approaching storm and avoid the Spanish fleet.
"We will do the same and join you after we gather our men from the town," cried out Captain Cane. "Should we fail to arrive in due time, sail then for Port Royal. God speed and be with you, Captain Hayward."
At that same moment the cannon atop the Castillo de San Marcos fired again and the round struck the water a mere few feet from the hull of the Jamaican Prince.
"Master Gunner Allen!" called Captain Cane without missing a beat of confidence.
"Aye Cap'n?" answered the gunner.
"Master Gunner, I want one round into the town to recall our ship's shore party and a final round to end the misadventures of that cursed gun atop that damnable fortress," ordered Cane.
"Aye, Cap'n," replied the smiling Master Gunner Allen. "I'll take that bloody gun out with one shot or by me mum's own sweet heart I'll be bringin' me self down to no more than a powder monkey, sir."
"Fair enough," smiled Cane in return, a smile quickly lost when he again surveyed the distant sky to the southeast. He was not so much concerned about the approaching Spanish ships now as he was the weather. His Jamaican Prince was known throughout the Caribbean for it's speed and could easily out run the bulky galleons. He was however concerned with what loomed on the horizon, growing and moving quickly, ignorant of all manner of ships and men. His many years in this part of the world caused him to know it well and know full well what it could do. It was a hurricane, the deadly curse of the warm waters of this part of the hemisphere, and it was moving faster than any storm he had ever seen, it's dark clouds reaching around the sea to the north like the huge monstrous tentacles of a hungry killer squid.
Allen's first shot landed dead center of the town and immediately Cane's men began heading for their boats. About that same time a hardy breeze rushed over the barrier island and across the bay catching the rigging of the Jamaican Prince and causing the ship to sway. This in no way hindered the talents of Master Gunner Allen however as he and his gun crew sighted their weapon. Gauging the sway of the ship, Allen's smile returned.
"Right then, on the up-roll we'll do 'er, men!" he yelled, and at the height of the ship's upward pitch he laid his fire to the gun.
All eyes were on the Castillo as Allen's sure shot blasted the gun and it's haphazard crew to perdition.
Cane nodded approval then looked to the mouth of the bay where in the distance he could see the Tristram and the Alithea had safely cleared the inlet, entering into deeper open water, and turning north. He then looked to the town where he saw his ships company boarding their boats and rowing for the Jamaican Prince. Behind them members of St. Augustine's Spanish garrison began filtering back into the town and rushing to the safety of the Castillo.
"Ready all guns, Mister. Allen," Cane called down to the deck.
Allen looked up with concern, knowing well that Cane only called him Mister Allen when there was serious business ahead.
"Ready all guns!" repeated the Master Gunner to his gun crews. He then leaned over the ship's rail and looked across the bay to discover the returning Spanish Garrison entering the Castillo and realized they were sure to be far better gunners and far more accurate with the fort's remaining cannon than the townspeople before them. Serious business indeed.
Cane looked back to the south where he saw the two approaching Spanish ships. "Mister Englehart!" he called to his first mate.
"Aye, sir."
"Get the men aloft and to all stations as quickly as they come aboard! I need sail, Mister Englehart and I need it swiftly!"
"Aye, sir," replied Englehart, locking eyes with his concerned Captain.
"The gates of hell are about to open Mister Englehart and may God help us," stated Cane as he looked toward the storm.
Englehart turned and looked toward the storm then to the two Spanish ships approaching from down river. Turning to the ships crew as they climbed aboard he yelled, "Quickly there, men! Get your souls aloft, make sail and then make peace with your god whatever he be for this day may yet be the devil's own and our very last."
The first crewman to climb and reach the top of the mainsail looked across the bay and over the island opposite the Castillo and town where he saw out to sea the monster storm rushing for the mainland. Riding before the storm, in full sail, raced three Spanish Galleons soon to reach the inlet channel to the bay and St. Augustine, and sure to cut off and confront the Jamaican Prince. The trap would not only submit Cane and his company to the merciless guns of the incoming fleet but the large cannons of the Castillo as well, now in the more capable hands of the returning garrison.
"Ships approaching the channel!" he cried down to the Captain.
"How many?" shouted Cane, looking up to the heights of the mainmast.
"Three, Cap'n! Replied the crewman. "Three big gunners, sir!"
"Mister Allen!" called out Captain Cane.
"Aye, Cap'n?"
"When we come about for the inlet channel," he pointed, "I want a full starboard volley on those ships there approaching at the edge of the town. Then after we come about let lose the entire port side guns on the fortress. And reload quickly Mister Allen. We have company waiting at the far side of the channel and little time for pleasantries."
"Aye, sir. Consider it done, sir," replied Master Gunner Allen. Allen then turned to his gun crews to strike up their collective heartbeat. "You were born of a gun you salty bastards, drinkin' black powdered rum 'stead of mother's milk. Yer soul is a barnacled marvel of myst'ry and yer heart long lost to a witch of the sea. Fightin' men says I! Fightin' are we!"
"Fightin' men! Aye!" rose the feverish reply of the men of his gun crews. "Fightin' men are we!"
"All starboard guns to the ready!" cried Allen as his cannon crews hustled about preparing their guns.
The two Spanish ships filed up the river then spread and sailed abreast of each other as they passed the town and entered the narrow bay. Their strategy was to attack Cane from both sides and blast him into the depths. At that same moment the Jamaican Prince began her turn. Cane would need the better part of the small bay to come about, all the while knowing the ship would not be out of the deadly range of the guns of the Castillo, and possibly even become trapped between the fortress and the fast approaching Spanish vessels. Allen's gunners were their only hope to get out of the bay and escape into broader safer water.
Bringing his ship about Cane gave Allen the order. "When ready, Mister Allen!"
Allen gauged his targets, picking an angle that brought both the Spanish ships into the line of fire.
"From for'd to aft on my command, men. Hold. Hold. Now FIRE!" yelled Allen.
The forward most gun fired first followed successively by the others with most shots finding their target. The two Spanish ships bared off, struck and wounded but not defeated. They began taking in sail, obviously anticipating trapping the Jamaican Prince in the bay when their galleons entered the channel around the north end of the island.
As Cane continued his turn he could see the busy garrison atop the fortress running up their four large cannons. Anxious but steady, Captain Cane called down to the gun deck, "First to strike would do nicely, Mister Allen."
"Aye, sir," replied Allen.
As the Master Gunner plotted his assault Cane rushed to the wheel to help the struggling helmsman. The wind was beginning to gust and the water was getting rough. Cane was growing concerned that they would be unable to beat the exceptionally fast moving storm to the shelter of the St. Johns. Studying the distant sky further he was beginning to think it unlikely they would even be able to reach deeper water before the galleons entered the inlet ahead of them.
"FIRE!" came the Master Gunner's order over the sound of the rising wind through the rigging.
Again the guns of the Jamaican Prince exploded in a smoky fury. Atop the Castillo men screamed as they fell to the wrathful impact of Allen's accurate guns. He had done well, for all the big guns of the fortress had been hit but one, leaving a single surviving crew atop the Castillo who now scurried to recover, set and fire.
"I count one gun coming on us, Cap'n!" warned Englehart as he studied the activity on the fort.
"Eye, one too many," replied Cane.
The sky clouded over becoming a dull gray and though they had the blessing of the tide, a whipping rain and robust wind had begun and was working against them. The Jamaican Prince had made it's full turn and was heading for the channel and the freedom of the open sea beyond but Cane was a well wary and seasoned Captain who took nothing for granted. He knew quite well the dangers and destructive power of the three galleons rounding the far side of the island, and of course the dangers of the storm, that untimely curse of a storm. To turn back and drop anchor in the safe harbor of the small bay might save the ship from the storm but most assuredly would result in a death sentence for him and his crew at the hands of the Spanish. An alternative neither he or his crew would accept. Their only chance, he concluded, was to reach deep water and run before the storm, to use it to escape and let it push them north to the St. Johns or at worst to beach the Jamaican Prince further up the coast and away from the enemy. There they could escape across land to the refuge of their other ships.
Just as Cane turned back for a last glance at his lost prize there came a final cannon blast from the top of the Castillo. The black ball ripped through some of the ships sail, bringing down a yardarm and a portion of rigging on the starboard side. It crashed into the water, dragged along the side of the ship and when cut free by the crew, caught on the Jamaican Prince's rudder. Though it was still possible to steer it was extremely difficult and became even more so as the fouled debris extended and dragged the bottom of the channel.
Distant cannon fire drew his attention and Cane looked out to discover the three galleons fast approaching the north end of the island. The ships were out of range and firing only a warning to demand his surrender. Cane could only laugh as he looked up to his sails, hoping to clear the inlet before the wind would do to them what he knew the Spanish could not. He could see now the Spanish were too far distant but he could also see the rising rough white surf pounding the beach of the island and further off shore an even rougher rising sea was following. In short order the galleons began having difficulty and started adjusting sail in an effort to fight the wind and avoid being beached or even sunk. They were no longer a threat to the Jamaican Prince but now only sailors in peril, struggling and facing a storm the likes of which Cane had never seen. A storm moving so swiftly with increasing sustained winds and powerful gusts that played with the Spanish ships and crews as though they were mere floating toys.
The fast changing wind, the fouled rigging beneath the ship and the oncoming tidal surge all but suspended the Jamaican Prince in the channel of the inlet between the open sea and the bay. As the ship floundered the crew began to look to the shore in anticipation of running aground. Cane squinted to see through the driving rain and caught a glimpse of the largest of the three galleons. She was top heavy by design and made even more so by exceeding her limits of deck guns. The storm had come upon her so quickly that her crew had little or no time to compensate and take in enough sail. The ship now belonged to the merciless weather. The uncompromising wind forced the galleon to lay aside until finally it rolled her over and pushed her toward the beach. Cane knew there the grinding surf would break her up, tossing her crew and cargo at will. When he looked back to the other galleons he discovered there remained only one and assumed the other had already capsized and surrendered to the raging sea. He watched as the final galleon was thrown helplessly about, being drastically raised and lowered by the frenzied massive waves forming off shore and rushing toward the mainland. It was at that moment he viewed a sampling of the truly awesome power of the storm when a spiraling gust of wind blew down across the Spanish ship and literally tore away all three of her masts and full rigging, sending the debris careening wildly through the sky and over the island. The flailing sea then rolled the ship repeatedly until it ran aground with a broken back and breached hull. Though Cane could not hear the desperate cries of the Spanish seaman above the sound of the storm he could certainly imagine them as they all most assuredly met their death.
When the ominous storm overcame the Jamaican Prince the crew came to accept their fate. In the punishing rain and ripping wind some crewmen simply held tight to parts of the ship while others knelt and prayed. Master Gunner Allen held to one of his guns with one hand and looked up to his Captain on the aft castle with a smile and a farewell salute with the other. He then suddenly disappeared when a huge wave crashed over the deck.
Captain Cane stood firm at the wheel as he watched his men and ship surrender to the storm. But for fate and want of a few minutes, he thought, they might have cleared the inlet, reached deeper water and run before the storm. But then again no, not this storm, not this devil sent hellish fury, he concluded. As he resolved himself to losing both his ship and his life, Captain Thaddeus Hawthorne Cane looked to the sky where he thought for a brief moment he saw a broad bright flash of light and a large bird. A bird seeming to be somehow unaffected by the storm and oblivious to the wind. Suddenly his ship lurched and twisted, it's sails ripping and careening off into the sky. Her lines snapping in the wind like bullwhips, and her rigging pulling apart and disappearing into the rain. A massive whirlwind engulfed the entire Jamaican Prince, spinning it counter clockwise, literally lifting it out of the water. The scene and the sensation were overwhelming as Cane's mind raced through ships and ports and people he had long forgotten. How long this phenomenon took place he wasn't sure for now he was beyond himself and not even sure if he was still of this world. Then, just as suddenly as it was torn from the water, the ship was slammed down and imbeded deeply into a sand bar, breaking and breaching its hull, its sails and mast torn away along with most of the crew. Cane was thrown to the deck, striking his head. Everything around him slowed to a surreal vision of destruction and death. He saw once again a great flash of light just before his mind went black, just before he was swept away by an angry, violent, unforgiving sea.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Cane's Gate by author Frank Mosco was inspired by the history and legends of pirates and smuglers of the old city of St. Augustine, Florida and its neighborhood in which he lived. Additional ideas and inspiration came from the antics of the real Lighthouse Gang in the form of his young son and fellow "partners in crime".
Cane's Gate is also the first installment of the Lighthouse Gang series for young readers where the principal characters of the original book will move on to bigger and more exciting adventures.
SYNOPSIS
In contemporary America's oldest city, St. Augustine, Florida, an ancient mystery is revealed when a young boy and his friends discover a magic medallion thousands of years old. The mystery of the medallion draws them into a dangerous subterranean adventure and treasure hunt during which they discover a thriving lost Mayan city and the Fountain of Youth. Their arrival creates events which force them to save the city and it's people by enlisting the aid of a beach bum genius, a 17th century pirate, and the medallion's incredible ancient magic.
(Based on the original screenplay by Frank Mosco.)
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