by David O'Neil
As he admitted, when he tumbled tired out into his bunk, it was lucky that Lieutenant Marsh was amiable. He just hoped he had a sense of humor. He would need it under Captain Bowers.
Commander Avery and the crew reported on board as ordered. The presence of the prize crew made the accommodation crowded, but the reputation gained by the prize crew in general, and Midshipman Forest, in particular, promised the prospect of yarning in the off watches for the men. There was a certain amount of awe, among the junior midshipmen who joined with the new Captain.
The voyage east along the Mediterranean was fairly quiet, though the new captain worked the men at gun drill every day, allowing the expenditure of powder and shot at least once each day.
Martin attended the sessions with the ship’s Master, taking his part in the daily training that all midshipmen undergo. His age meant he was older than all the newcomers except one. The presence of Midshipman Hayes was a definite negative as far as Martin was concerned. From the moment he arrived, Hayes went out of his way to impress the gunroom that he was senior. Sadly, Lieutenant Marsh did not seem to notice. The younger members of the gun room walked in fear of the man. Marsh was actually berthed in the gun room, as he would be on the Arun. The Pigeon being a smaller ship had fewer deck officers and the gun room normally would be occupied by midshipmen only.
The tensions in the gunroom were relieved when the captain found Martin sparring with one of the members of the prize crew. Carter was supervising and giving advice to both of them. “Keep that fist up, Wallace. Now, sir, drop your shoulder more and you’ll slip the punch completely. There that’s the way.”
Marsh was watching with interest. But seeing the captain approach he called on them to stop and saluted the captain.
Avery looked keenly at Martin. “You are no stranger to a mill, I think?”
“Well, I have had some training, sir.”
“It shows.”
“We will be celebrating midsummer tomorrow. Will you be willing to show the youngsters something of your skill? Perhaps a match with Mr.. Hayes, d’ye think?”
“If he will agree and you wish it, I should be happy to, sir.”
“Good. Carry on.” The captain left to stroll the full length of the gun deck, stopping to speak to the gun captains and any other man he encountered on the way.
Martin watched the Captain’s progress. This was the measure of the man, his ability to talk to all and any, without seeming to be trying to curry favor, laugh with them at some quip, and commiserate where needed. Men would follow a man like that anywhere, with a will.
On midsummer’s day with the empty sea around them and the sun high in the heavens, there was little to remind the men that there was a war on. The sky as clear and the air crisp as the crew set up the square ring, in preparation for later in the day. Martin was beginning to regret his haste in volunteering for the project. The skylarking began with several of the men taking turns at racing up the rigging, their supporters yelling and exchanging insults with the opposition. On watch in the morning he paced the quarter deck, cursing the impetuous impulse that placed him in this match, but at the same time looking forward to the chance to remind Midshipman Hayes that he was not cock of the walk.
When Martin came off watch, he went to the gunroom to strip ready for the bout. Hayes entered and looked at his slim smooth muscled body. He sneered as he stripped his uniform off displaying broad shoulders and muscled physique. “I will not be gentle with you, Forest. You should prepare yourself for a beating. It will perhaps take some of that starch out of your neck.”
Martin smiled quietly, “I will look forward to it, Hayes.” He slung the towel around his shoulders and left the man alone in the gunroom, while he joined Carter beside the improvised ring.
As Hayes appeared Carter weighed him up, then turned to Martin. “E ’as the muscle, but I reckon the wind will do him. Make him jump about and he’ll be all yours.” He looked at Martin and grinned, “Give him one for me and the lads. He’s a nasty bastard.” These last words were a whisper that only Martin could hear.
The Captain appointed Marsh to referee the bout, and the crew gathered round to watch. Quiet wagers being made as the two contestants prepared. Martin flexed his legs and swung his arms round to get the circulation going while Hayes sprawled in his corner. Hayes looked big and menacing, sneering and making comments to his second, one of the Master’s Mates named Murdo, a drinking partner who had served with Hayes in the past.
Marsh called them together and checked that the both wore the thin leather gloves the Captain had insisted upon.
“First man down ends the round, no blows to be struck when a man is down. No kicking or gouging, and if I call stop, you will stop!”
The two men went to their corners and the bell was struck. Martin leapt out of his corner across the ring and punched Hayes on the nose, while the other man was getting set.
Blood spurted and Hayes stepped back in shock. Then he shook his head went into a crouch and advanced across the ring, hands high as he looked for a chance to hit Martin.
His ear suffered next, as Martin danced round him flicking surprisingly hard punches at Hayes’ head.
Hayes lifted his arms higher to protect his head and as Martin saw the chance he stepped in and, as his right foot hit the deck, his right fist hit Hayes in the abdomen.
Hayes was only half prepared for the blow and his counter punch was on the way as he doubled over, the air forced out of him. The fist he threw at Martin caught him beside the head. It felt as if he had been hit with a brick. As Hayes toppled Martin staggered back, shaking his head.
Marsh called time and Carter flung water in Martin’s face. The crowd roared. Hayes was not popular with the crew, and the men enjoyed seeing him hurt, as he obviously had been.
When Marsh called them to the line the two men faced each other once more. Hayes fist was moving by the time the bell rang but Martin was not there. For a second time a fist connected with Hayes nose and broke it with the force of the blow.
For Martin there was now no suggestion of holding back, having felt the weight of Hayes fist he knew he would need to wear him down as quickly as possible. The man was strong and his punch was lethal.
For three rounds Martin peppered Hayes with punches to the head, and took every opportunity to concentrate on his midriff. Hayes face was puffed and swollen and both eyes were closing. The odd blow he landed hurt Martin, causing the second round to be over after four minutes. The third was needed for Martin to recover, as he forced his aching body to keep out of range of the heavy fists of his opponent.
Hayes was getting more and more frustrated with his elusive opponent, and his legs were getting heavier. He had not anticipated more than two battering rounds to dispose of Martin. By the fourth round he was gasping for breath. Whereas Martin was now breathing evenly, seemingly fully recovered from the blows that had put him down. Hayes had deliberately dropped to his knees to gain respite. As he rested in his corner Murdo nicked the glove on Hayes’s right hand, tearing the leather. “That’ll mark him. Could take his eye out.”
As they toed the line, Hayes got the first punch in his right fist just catching Martin’s cheek tearing the skin, and causing the blood to flow. Martin spotted the tear in the glove as the fist drew back once more and, instead of retreating, he stepped toward Hayes and punched with both fists into Hayes battered midriff. Hayes caught unprepared gasped and doubled over to meet both of Martin’s rising fists.
As he straightened up Martin stepped back and measured him carefully before releasing another punch with the full weight of his body behind it. Hayes staggered. Then Martin deliberately hit him quickly to the jaw and to the stomach, before standing back and letting Hayes topple like a falling tree to the deck.
The cheer that went up surprised Martin, who was not that sprightly at the time. Murdo dragged Hayes to his corner, but there was no way he could get his man to toe the line. Lieutenant Marsh raised Martin’s hand, declaring him, the win
ner.
The wound on his cheek stood out white against his bronzed skin as he came on deck for his watch later that day.
Captain Avery stopped beside him as he stood at the rail gazing out to port.
The words were quietly spoken for him alone to hear. “That was well done, Forest. You have shown the rest of the gunroom the way. It was all I could have asked of you. Just between us? ”
“Thank you, sir. Of course, sir.” Martin murmured back. “He did ask for it,” he added, but the Captain had gone.
The wind got up that evening, and the ship joined HMS Arun at dawn.
Captain Bowers looked keenly at Martin when he returned to duty on HMS Arun. The wound was healing but the scar remained. “So, Mr. Forest, what have you to report since you left this ship, and what have you done with Mr. Wales?”
“Sir, I have to report that Mr. Wales broke his leg and was concussed during the bad storm we encountered off Sardinia. I had to take command. When we cleared the damage in the storm we encountered a Barbary pirate attacking a French corvette. They were close encountered when we arrived and my first thought was to run. But I saw the opportunity to intervene to our advantage. We assaulted the galley and released the slaves, who joined us in the attack on the pirate boarding party who had just about defeated the French ship, which was undermanned, carrying casualties. The remains of the pirates were defeated by my combined men and the French survivors surrendered to me.” Martin paused collecting his thoughts, while the Captain sat patiently.
“The galley and the French ship were taken as prizes. Many of the freed slaves had been captured from British ships and they joined us. I reported to Mr. Wales and we conducted the two prizes to Gibraltar. Commander Avery was given command of HMS Pigeon, the French corvette that was bought in to the Navy by the court in Gibraltar.”
“Mr. Forest, I am pleased to receive the extra men you have brought along with Mr. Marsh, but I cannot help noticing that they had been written in as part of the prize crew detached from my ship. By what sleight of hand, did you convert a crew of fifteen men into forty? Have I missed something?”
“Sir, the crew of our prize, The Pigeon, was composed mainly of Sardinian fishermen who had lost their families and disliked their French captors, two are Corsican loyalists, wanted as rebels by the French authorities. All of the men assisted us with repairing the ship and also volunteered to join into the assault on the galley. So they were signed in as members of the crew at that time.”
“I see. Thank you for the explanation, Mr. Forest.” The Captain lifted the paper he had at his right hand. “I have here a report from Lieutenant Wales that states that, despite the weather conditions, you captured two armed ships with the help of the prize crew only, in the proudest traditions of the service, while he was incapacitated and unable to exercise command. This will be of assistance, I believe, when we return to Gibraltar. I expect you will be called to examine for Lieutenant.”
Martin was dumfounded. It had never occurred to him that he would be expected to take the examination so soon.
He was turning to leave when the Captain stopped him.
“Just one final question, Mr. Forest. How did you get that scar on your cheek?”
Martin had to think for a moment to realize that the Captain was referring to the scrape he had received in the boxing match.
“Captain Avery had a make and mend on Midsummer’s day, and I was asked to give a lesson in the ring.”
“How did you receive a scar, in gloves?”
“I believe my opponent’s glove had a tear.”
“You won, I hear.”
Martin nodded.
“Midshipman Hayes?”
Martin nodded once more.
The Captain looked serious. “Martin, I know Hayes. You may have made an enemy for life. If ever you serve in the same command, watch your back.” He looked at Martin seriously.
“But, sir, it was just a demonstration.”
The Captain proved to be better informed than Martin realized. “So you broke his nose and two ribs. That man will never forgive.”
Chapter five
Lieutenant
1794 was a year of activity for the two frigates under Captain Bowers’ command. Commander Avery proved his worth on several occasions during the summer months of the year. The news of the glorious First of June and Lord Howe’s defeat of the French fleet off Ushant spread thought the Mediterranean swiftly
For Martin,, now fifteen the months were for learning his trade, as he was ever conscious of the time passing. His uniform was showing the signs of his growing stature and the impending exam for Lieutenant awaited the ship’s return to Gibraltar.
He had encountered Midshipman Hayes on one occasion only since the fight. They were both involved in the siege of San Fiorenzo, in Corsica, as part of the landing force under Lord Hood. The force was composed of seamen and marines from the fleet, as the soldiers under the command of General Dundas were withheld from the undertaking.
Hayes was in charge of one of the guns from Pigeon and Martin’s company was needed to help get the gun up to the heights commanding the town. As the gun was hauled by brute force up the hill. Hayes spotted Martin lower down the hill bringing up more men. Martin was suddenly aware of a rumbling noise uphill. To his horror he realized that one of the tow ropes had snapped and the gun slipping sideways toward his men. Gravel was spattering and rocks rolling stirred by the slipping gun. Without thinking, he lunged forward, calling his men to chock the wheels to check the slipping gun. If it got away the gun could be damaged and the carriage destroyed, apart from the men in its path.
He reached the gun, and threw his weight into stopping the slide downhill. Hayes appeared on the other side of the gun, beside the single tow that was holding the gun back. He had a knife in his hand. He looked across at Martin and smiled, turning to slash at the retaining rope with the knife.
The thrown club hit him squarely in the face causing blood to spurt from his already damaged nose. He disappeared from Martin’s view as he continued to strain against the slowly slipping gun. Then his men arrived and the gun was saved. A new lashing was attached and the gun continued its progress to the hilltop redoubt. Hayes was carried off by two seamen from his party and the gun was taken over by the artillery captain in command of the battery.
“Did you lose your club, Carter?” Martin asked when the gun had been delivered.
“Why, I believe I have, sir. I must have lost it on the hill.”
“Somebody left this one on the slope.” It seems to have some blood on it, but I am sure it will wash off.”
“Thank you, sir. I should have been in trouble with the ship’s bosun if I lost my weapon without some good reason.” He looked at Martin innocently. “Where did you find this, one sir?”
“It was on the slope where Mr. Hayes had his accident, beside this knife.” Martin held out a knife. “See if someone has lost a knife when you get the chance. It has to be from one of the seamen on the hill here.”
Carter looked at the weapon handed to him by Martin. “See here, sir. It must be Mr. Hayes’s knife; it is a dirk like your own.” He thrust the knife out for Martin to see. “I’ll pass it to one of the Pigeon’s crew on the way back to the ship, sir.”
Nothing was said about the incident, but Martin remembered the words of Captain Bowers after discussing the boxing match. A chill ran up his spine. Hayes must have had his dirk out for some reason. The weapon would not fall out of its scabbard by itself. It was held in by a strong spring. He had been standing beside the remaining rope when he, Martin, was heaving at the gun to stop it rolling off down the hill.
If the single rope had broken, Martin would have been crushed like an ant beneath the weight of the gun. It would have only taken a few strands cut, to cause the rope to go.
During the campaign Martin had cause to be ashore on several other occasions. He did not encounter Hayes again, though he worked with Pigeon’s men on several occasions.
The
return to Gibraltar did not occur until December. Martin spent the intervening time working hard at his books. He was not looking forward to the forthcoming examination. Like most young men in his situation, he was not confident that he knew enough to pass in front of the experienced board of captains.
Passing into the harbor at Gibraltar in the shadow of the rock, was nerve-wracking for Martin. It meant that now was the time for him to face his three inquisitors for the examination.
While the board sat in judgement on the three candidates examined before him, Martin sat and suffered. One of the applicants came out nearly in tears. . He had failed and judging from his age would not be considered again.
Of the other two, though both had passed, one was white-faced in shock. The other was smiling quietly, though, as Martin noticed, his linen was wet with sweat.
As the last of four applicants he waited for what seemed a long time for the call. There was one friendly face present. Captain Avery, newly promoted to Post Captain, was one of the three, the others being, Captain Masters of HMS Stalwart, and the senior member, Commodore Nelson. As Martin stood waiting for the grilling he had been told about, Avery said, “Mr. Forest! You were in command of a prize when you came upon a sea battle between a pirate galley and a French corvette, both armed ships, in ’94?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You had a prize crew of fifteen men, I understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Martin was wondering where this was leading, neither of the other captains said a word.
“There was still a gale blowing and you pressed the prisoners on your ship to help load the guns, while your commander Lieutenant Wales was injured and unconscious below?”
“Yes, sir. But I….” Martin stopped.
“I understand that you attacked and defeated the pirates and also the French ship. I have the facts, do I not?”
“Yes, sir. But….”
“Gentlemen, you have both read the letters of recommendation for this officer. His record speaks for itself. I realize that, like me, you both wish to get this matter over with as quickly as possible. Can I suggest we retire and deal with it with no further delay?”
