by Brian Cain
CHAPTER THREE
William Maloney kept Fial for only a short time as he feared the same fate as his father. William had established that Fial wanted to go to sea and command a ship for himself, grand goals for such a tender age. William saw much in the boy and encouraged his energy of want for the ocean.
He passed Fial on to the one person who could teach him what he would need to know: Donal McGuire at Bunkila in Cork Harbour. Fial took Donal's surname and became part of his family. Donal had no children as his wife was unable to conceive and Fial became the apple of their eye.
Fial attended the local church school run by a Methodist priest who was tolerated by the sectarian movements in the area. Martial law had been in place from March 1797 and the British government used the sectarian problems to better their position, especially in the north of Ireland, but Fial was educated and fostered outside of this in the south.
For two years Donal spent his time educating Fial. First he taught him to be a strong swimmer, tethering a rope around his chest to the back of a row boat and towing him for hours around the Cork Harbour. Of a night he would teach and quiz Fial on the location of stars and the use to the sextant left to him by Louis Belgarde. Donal had removed all traces of marks from the Royal Navy, scribing it with his name Fial McGuire. He painstakingly went through the twenty-two calculations needed to plot a position using the nautical almanacs from Belgarde's find and things he had kept himself.
Years passed and Fial could swim Cork Harbour with ease. tow the rowboat used to train him and was familiar with celestial navigation but lacked any experience. He could load and shoot a flintlock with calm, ease and accuracy. He could read and write well and was familiar with algebra and advanced mathematical logarithms. The Methodist priest that schooled Fial had taken a shine to him, seeing he had an open minded approach to most things. Fial also became familiar with the scriptures of the Bible, questioning the validity of miracles but recognising the power of religion. He noticed anyone who followed any religion just believed before anything else; this he could understand, for he believed his father and mother should be avenged by the sword of the cross.
Early in the year 1800 Donal McGuire was taken by the British forces after information from informants in the Society of United Irishmen implicated him in several operations against the Crown. He was executed and hung in a cage in the Cork markets; his wife fled to the north with family and Fial was left alone.
He was sixteen years old. He wore a wide lower jaw like his father and deep brown eyes with long black hair to his shoulders. He became a very angry young man but a wise for his age. He was now six foot three with wide shoulders and could easily carry two sacks of potatoes, one under each arm. He knew he could do nothing to confront the might of British power from his humble room of the local church where the priest who had taught him so well had given him refuge.
On the eighteenth of March 1800 Fial packed his things and stowed away whilst delivering potatoes on the HMS Dryad, a fifth class British war frigate under the command of Captain Mansfield. He knew from leaked information she would be bound for Portsmouth, England, escorting the captured Swedish warship the Ulla Ferson and the French privateer Premier Consul. He had noted the way of British aristocracy and planned to use elements of their ways to his advantage, he planned to become one.
Ten hours into the journey, whilst passing between the Isle of Scilly and Land’s End Fial was found and brought before Captain Mansfield in his cabin below the quarterdeck by the watch quartermaster. The quartermaster Litchfield Boyd claimed he was a spy for the Society of United Irishmen and should be thrown in the brig and tried for treason. Captain Mansfield dismissed the claim from behind his desk amid his gold braid and white hair and eccentric British accent; an educated and wise man. "An Irish young man stowing away on a British man of war; a lad that I am actually familiar with. This lad has never failed to be on time with his supplies, always been polite and was educated by a Methodist priest, that much I am sure of. Make sense for God’s sake man."
"He has a sextant and charts in his position captain," added Boyd as he placed Fial's bag of possessions on the captain's desk. Captain Mansfield inspected Fial’s belongings with great interest.
"This is an early Jones of Holborn scribed with your name, where did you acquire such an instrument and all these charts and almanacs?" asked Mansfield.
"Proof he is a traitor if you asked me," interrupted Boyd.
"I did not ask you Boyd, now stand down I'm sure the lad can answer," insisted Mansfield.
"From my father Donal McGuire sir, he was a mariner and harbour pilot."
"Mmmm I am familiar with this man, we still have his ship in the service of the realm, I could understand why he was objectionable. Why have you stowed aboard here lad?"
"I wish to navigate and captain a British warship sir." Boyd burst out laughing but Mansfield remained calm as he sneered at Boyd.
"At sunrise tomorrow I want you to plot the ship’s position and bring the results to me on the quarterdeck. Until then you will remain in the brig and your needs will be tended to. Do we understand Boyd?"
"Yes sir, this boy has no chance of plotting the ship’s position, will be a pleasure to witness the attempt."
"Indeed, you are dismissed." Fial was fed and placed in the brig till morning.
The morning sunrise saw Fial on the quarterdeck before first light studying the stars; he prepared his sextant as the sun rose. He made a sight from the sun for longitude and one from the land in view ahead of the bow, the ship tacking North North West. As best he could he made latitude out as the crew would not give him access to the compass heading or time. He consulted his charts using the date to calculate sunrise time and the figures from his almanacs. After five minutes he approached Captain Mansfield.
"Morning Fial, you have our position?" asked Mansfield.
"I do sir." Mansfield raised his head looking down his nose at Fial.
"And?"
"We are fifty degrees thirteen minutes seventeen seconds north by three degrees three minutes forty-three seconds west. I have calculated the latitude by land, sight and air as I have had no access to compass heading and I have no time from the ship’s clock sir. I believe the bearing I used to be a place called Blackstone Rock in the county Devon sir. We are making slow progress tacking for the wind is doing only just over four knots. If the wind remains like it is from the North West we have another twenty-nine and a half hours to Portsmouth." Mansfield turned to the boatswain.
"Why was this man given no access to ship’s information?"
"I thought Boyd had given it to him before he went off watch at sunrise sir," replied the boatswain. Mansfield turned to his second in command next to the helm Lieutenant Briscoe.
"Have Boyd put on report and sent to me before his next watch."
"Certainly sir," replied Briscoe.
"Boatswain how accurate is McGuire's calculation?" asked Mansfield as he peered over the bow and ordered a heading change to tack south west.
"Sir within five hundred yards of my calculation sir." Mansfield looked amazed.
"Hand me both your calculation sheets." They passed the scribbled note pads to Mansfield who studied them diligently. "My God that is amazing." A lookout yelled from the crows nest as a muffled pistol shot was heard.
"Man overboard from the Ulla Ferson on the port bow!" The Ulla Ferson tacking to their direct port bow had lost a man as she swung about over the starboard of the quarterdeck. The ships were no more than three hundred yards apart and Fial could see the man floundering in the sea. He removed his shoes and jacket and dived from the side of the Dryad as she steadied on course. He swam briskly to the man in the heavy sea, holding him above water as he had been struck on the head in the fall, rendering him semi conscious. Mansfield acted immediately.
"Lieutenant Briscoe; lower a longboat and retrieve the men, lay sail until calm in the water." The Dryad became a hive of activity as a longboat was lowered from the stern and the sails were drop
ped to lie calm. The ailing man was helped up the boarding rigging on the starboard side of the Dryad as she drifted calm for an hour, two miles from the British Devon coast.
The rescued man was a British officer Lieutenant James Hilditch in command of the Ulla Ferson whilst she was in transit to Portsmouth for refit for British service. An English speaking Swedish rating from her crew when captured had been retained to assist with the familiarity of the ship; he had turned on Hilditch whilst the ship’s company was busy changing tack. The rating was shot by a crew member but Hilditch had already been pushed over the railing hitting his head. Hilditch recovered and before making Portsmouth had Fial brought before he and Mansfield in Mansfield's cabin. Hilditch was an ageing man of over sixty. The Ulla Ferson was his last command before retiring; he shook Fial’s hand before sitting down behind the desk next to Mansfield.
"I have called you Fial to thank you for saving my life. I never thought I would see the day I would thank an Irishman for saving my life. They have been trying to take it from me for more years than I can remember."
"A man is a man sir, we are all equal in the eyes of God," replied Fial.
"A religious man to boot. Mansfield tells me you wish to join the British navy."
"That is correct sir; I plan to have a command of my own."
"Mansfield also tells me you are a first class navigator."
"I put to test what I had been taught by my father sir. I made a few assumptions of my own and got lucky."
"Lucky indeed, you made a fool of one of the best navigators the British navy has to offer. When we land in Portsmouth we will request a meeting with Admiral Nelson and suggest you are inducted into the British Navy as a boatswain initially on the Dryad here with Captain Mansfield. We can bear witness to the events of yesterday, a wiser, braver fellow we will not meet."
"Thank you sir."
"You are dismissed Seaman McGuire," added Mansfield. Fial had a wide smile.
"Captain Mansfield sir, as a member of the ship’s crew I am able to challenge any man of the crew under King’s Rules would I be correct sir." Mansfield looked puzzled.
"Yes that's correct."
"I would like to challenge Quartermaster Boyd to restore my honour sir." Mansfield and Hilditch looked at each other blankly before Mansfield answered.
"Boyd is in the brig also, drunk last night on duty Fial."
"Sir I'm sure Boyd had the best interest of the ship and crew and heart. In the eyes of all equilibrium can be restored for all to see." Mansfield cracked a smile with an assuring nod.
"Well a young man versed in politics as well as courage, that may indeed work, moral is a weapon of successful war and this is a warship." Mansfield called the first mate on watch outside the cabin door; he entered and stood to attention. "Prepare a jousting ring on the main deck below the quarterdeck and bring Boyd aloft from the brig. Inform him his honour is challenged by Seaman McGuire." The first mate smiled and looked at Fial.
"Immediately sir." The first mate left and all made their way to the main deck, a makeshift square was formed by the ship’s crew and Mansfield and Hilditch looked down from the quarterdeck. Fial stood in the middle of the square and removed his tunic and shirt. The ratings looked at each other in envy as the muscle-bound young man stood and waited. Boyd entered the square, rolled up his sleeves. He was a small man in relation to Fial but agile and muscular. They both looked at Captain Mansfield whom nodded approval to proceed. Fial offered his hand to Boyd who looked away and began to prance around the edge of the ring, ducking, weaving and shadow punching the air, looking all of a champion as he had done this many times before.
He lunged towards Fial with a right straight. Fial moved his head to one side and counter punched from the hip directly between Boyd's eyes, sending him sprawling unconscious to the deck. There was complete silence as Boyd came round and was helped to his feet by Fial. Fial offered Boyd his hand and the silence continued; Boyd looked at Fial, smiled, took his hand and shook it firmly. Mansfield spoke.
"We still have the matter of Quartermaster Boyd drunk on watch. He will be given ten lashes in front of the crew." Fial interrupted.
"Sir if I may speak." Mansfield looked down at Fial, thought for a few seconds and looked at Hilditch whom nodded in puzzlement rather than approval.
"Permission to speak granted," said Mansfield.
"Sir it is I that should take the lashes, if I had not stowed away on the ship Quartermaster Boyd would not have felt so strongly and drunk too much. I hold myself responsible sir." Mansfield whispered on Hilditch's shoulder before replying.
"My God this boy is a born leader." He looked at Fial. "You wish to take Boyd's punishment for your irresponsibility of stowing away; I have never heard such a thing. Boyd wanted you thrown in the brig."
"I would have reacted in the same way to protect my ship and men sir." Mansfield thought for a while; he felt he was losing face, belittled by an Irish statesman.
"Tie Seaman McGuire to the main mast, administer ten lashes." The ship lay in complete silence as Fial was strapped to the mast when a rating stepped forwards and shouted out.
"I wish to take Seaman McGuire's punishment sir!" Then another.
"I too sir!" The ship echoed in voices demanding the same thing and Mansfield demanded order.
"Silence!" Mansfield looked at the deck sternly, then at Hilditch, he smiled and lay his head to one side. Mansfield looked out to sea thinking for a while and the ship was silent, watching his face. "The crew of this ship is one of the most dedicated I have ever sailed with. Our record speaks for itself. A member of our crew's honour was threatened and a new man restored it. Welcome Seaman Fial McGuire to our ranks. Everyone prepare to enter Portsmouth Harbour: to your posts. McGuire assist Litchfield Boyd with his duties." The crew began to disperse and as they did they shook Fial's hand one by one; a smiling Litchfield Boyd was last and they made sail into Portsmouth.
