by David O'Neil
“Aye, aye, sir.” Smart replied briskly and, feeling two feet taller, turned to the helmsman. “Keep her close there. Watch her head.”
The helmsman answered briskly, “Keep her close. aye, aye, sir.” He smiled quietly, well aware that he knew more about the trim of the ship than the lad, but he was popular with the crew and keen.
Martin heard the exchange and smiled to himself. The boy was learning.
“Keep me informed if we sight any other ship, Mr. Smart. I will be below!” He turned and returned to his cabin where he was preparing a report for the Admiral. The cruise had been without result for the past week and he was now considering the option of trailing his coat along the coast of Normandy, or perhaps returning up channel to see if there was any action toward the Straits of Dover.
The cry from the masthead lookout solved his dilemma. “Sail ho! On the port quarter, running free, hull up from behind the Ile de France.”
Martin was on deck immediately. “Up helm. Take a tack, Mr. Brown. Let us get out of his sight. We do not wish to scare him off.”
“Aye, aye, sir!” Midshipman Brown passed the orders, as Lieutenant Morgan and the Jared Jones arrived on deck. The ship settled on a tack that diverged from the course of the quarry.
“When you are ready, Mr. Morgan and Mister Holmes. My cabin, if you will.”
He descended to the stern cabin, now his sole domain, and called to his steward for coffee for himself and his two guests.
The three men seated themselves in the comfortable cabin and, as Martin brought out his orders and opened them, both Morgan and Jared Holmes could not resist leaning forward to see what was being revealed.
In many ways it was a disappointing sight, a chart and a single sheet of paper covered in script.
Martin lifted the single sheet and read it through. His brow creased as he read and, when he was done, he read the whole sheet again.
Turning to his two companions, he said, “Gentlemen, we have here an order which is a request disguised as an order, or the other way about perhaps. Whatever, it’s substance is that we give chase to the sail we spotted this morning. Without allowing him to know who we are, find out his purpose before capturing him and bring the whole ship and her contents and crew to the Fal, specifically St Mawes. At the castle there, we are ordered to stand off and allow the entire ship and her crew and content to be examined by specialists. What they will be seeking, I know not? All I am told is to carry out the instructions to the letter.”
“A strange task for the Admiralty to set.” Morgan observed.
“That is not an Admiralty order, or I miss my guess.” Jared Holmes, the Master interjected.
“You are right indeed, Mr. Holmes. This is from our Foreign Office masters. I fear with orders like this the opportunity to do the wrong thing is more than doubled, for there is no direct ‘do’ or ‘don’t’. This is all ‘as you think fit’ or ‘if you decide!’”
He sat back and noticing his untasted coffee lifted it to his lips and sipped the rich brew.
The schooner caught up with the mysterious sloop from the Ile de France during the night, the lookouts on deck keeping the outline of the sloop’s tall mast in sight against the lighter starlit sky. Orders were whispered and the boarders ready. Rope fenders were hanging down on the port side as they closed the other ship portside-to. The grapnels went across and the boarders followed swamping the deck with men, who secured the visible members of the other ship’s crew. Lieutenant Brown led chosen men below and shortly reappeared with two gentlemen and a lady, who were all complaining vociferously. They were brought to Martin’s cabin where they were seated in front of the table.
When Martin entered he was greeted by both men speaking at once. The lady stayed silent and, on seeing Martin, a small smile appeared, twitching the corner of her mouth.
Impatiently, Martin waved to the two men to be silent. Neither took notice so Martin told them to be still in no uncertain terms. The men sat open mouthed at being reprimanded in such a manner from such a young man.
Martin turned to the lady who looked at him directly and in a small voice said, “Hello, Commander Forest-Bowers. Do I find you well?”
Martin bowed over her outstretched hand and kissed it. “I am indeed well, better even for seeing you.”
Not sure how to address her he elected to let her lead the way.
“I am still Alouette to my friends, “
“As I am still Martin to mine,” he replied.
Seeing this exchange the two men kept quiet waiting to see what was happening.
“I have orders to see you all safe to St Mawes. Your sloop will accompany us there. From there I am afraid I have not been informed of your future movements.”
Alouette turned to the two men, “I will not introduce you. I will merely say that this exercise is being carried out for our protection, and it was arranged by ‘merely’ Mr. Smith.”
Martin smiled and Alouette laughed aloud. “Tell me, Martin, did he not say that?” In a deep voice she said, ‘You may refer to me as ‘merely’ Mr. Smith.’ Am I not correct?”
Martin nodded, “Just so.”
The two men left the cabin to be entertained by Mr. James and the gunroom. Alouette remained to reminisce with Martin, after turning the key in the lock. Having been advised that Martin was now married, she insisted that he demonstrate his prowess for the benefit of a friend who had been abstemious to a degree recently.
Chapter fifteen
Russia
1801- The Baltic:
HMS Bangor made good time over the light swell, her sails full and hull heeling to the fresh breeze. She was on her way to rendezvous with a cutter out of La Rochelle. The Biscay weather was being cooperative for a change and there was no other sail in sight.
Martin leaned to compensate for the movement of the schooner and inhaled the fresh sea air, the sun was taking the sharp edge of the autumn chill and the blue sunlit sea was flecked with white caps.
He watched the porpoises leaping and playing off the bow, easily keeping pace with the ship. He was thoughtful. His orders had been as vague as ever. It was an irritation that the instructions issued by the Foreign Office were ever thus, couched in terms that allowed discretion but hinted at the penalties of overreaction.
He was carrying no passengers this trip. There was a twinge of guilt as he recalled the latest episode in his relationship with Alouette.
The delivery of the cutter and the agents involved had gone off without any problems. Alouette had been a welcome diversion for the several hours that had been needed for the delivery to St Mawes.
‘Merely’ Mr. Smith had waited to meet the agents when they were landed and the contents of the cutter were removed by a team of local men, who transferred barrels and cases, boxes and bales, from the hold of the cutter to several small craft which had surrounded the two ships when they moored opposite the castle.
It had seemed to Martin that the cutter had been used to import contraband. The contents of the hold had certainly looked like brandy, tobacco and such smuggled goods he was sure.
He shrugged. It was not his business to query what his lord and master did, or did not, do. In this case it was a simple question of doing what he was told.
The schooner had sailed that same early morning, her duty done. Her new task, the present one, was to meet offshore with a boat from La Rochelle.
It was mid-afternoon before the sail was spotted, and early evening before the two ships were close enough to exchange signals. It was a full dark though starlit night by the time the two ships were able to join company, and for a boat to be launched to bring papers and two people across to HMS Bangor.
The ships separated before dawn. The stranger made for the French coast while HMS Bangor turned for home.
Martin had been in command for three months, and apart from the dalliance with Alouette, was missing Jennifer, his new wife sorely. The two men he had picked up from La Rochelle were both close-mouthed and both required to be
delivered personally to the hands of the Foreign Office. The ship required provisions. Having been at sea without land contact for three months, there were things the bosun and the first lieutenant required to be put to rights. It was therefore sensible for the ship to be taken to the Chatham dockyard for provisioning and to have the list of repairs and replacements attended to. This would allow Martin to deliver his charges direct to their destination.
They spoke a naval cutter in the Channel and Martin was able to send messages to the Admiralty and to Jennifer, warning them of his imminent arrival in London.
The journey up-river was tortuous after the freedom of the open sea. There were ships and small craft everywhere, but the passage was achieved with the help of the pilot.
The arrival at Chatham was a time for a frantic rush to the Post coach for the agent in charge. The more leisurely arrival and departure in the Bowers’ coach, made time for the handing over of the ship to the shipwrights a more restful procedure. Martin was expected to report to the Admiralty the following morning, but the rest of the day, and the night, belonged to Jennifer and Martin.
That night Martin discovered that his wife had missed him and his attentions, as much as he had missed her.
Though he still felt guilty, he was grateful to the women he had been with. The experience had allowed him to conduct himself well enough to satisfy Jennifer’s growing joy in their relations.
The following day he presented himself at the Admiralty, as instructed. Once again he was received by his adopted father.
Still carrying the rank of Commodore, Charles Bowers was looking a little less robust than usual. His situation at the Admiralty was more demanding than the quarter deck of a frigate.
“Why, Martin. It is good to see you once more.” The Commodore’s voice boomed in the lofty-ceilinged office. “How are you coping with the cross-channel spies? Have they been causing trouble?”
“In fact, sir, anything but! I have now delivered all three of the latest bunch to London. It was difficult to hold them back when the city came into sight. They set off in a post coach before the moorings were completed!”
“Were they, by George? There must have been a few things to pass on for them to be so hasty.”
“I myself was not slow to follow. Jennifer was at the quayside with the carriage by 10 am and, I confess, we were brought to the house with commendable dispatch. Despite the short duration of my last voyage, we both felt the separation endless, and were happy to be together again.”
Charles Bowers smiled. I trust you will both be able to spare Mrs. Bowers time to eat dinner tonight, for she will be expecting you both. Since you came into our lives she has made it clear that you have become the son we could not have.”
“Please. My entry into the family has been the best thing that happened to me. I hold Jane next to Jennifer in my affections. Seeing and enjoying her company, will be a true pleasure.”
“Hrummpf!” The Commodore appeared to sneeze into his handkerchief. Though in truth it was a cover for the pride and joy that his companion had brought into the lives of his wife and himself. “So to business, Martin. I have here the instructions of the Admiral that have recently been delivered.
Commander Martin Forest-Bowers RN strode the deck impatiently. The ship was behaving well. The tasks so far set had been accomplished as ordered with no real problems. So why was the fleet waiting? He scanned the horizon. British ships of the line seemed to be everywhere he looked, the Danish fleet beyond. From the shore the cannon of the Danish Tri Kroner fort were firing enough shots to keep the group of smaller craft, led by the frigate HMS Amazon under the command of Captain Edward Rou, at bay.
The force had been given the task of assaulting the fort, when the northern section of the Danish fleet had been subdued by Admiral Nelson’s fleet of 12 of the shallower-draught ships allocated by Admiral Sir Hyde Parker. Nelson had transferred his flag from HMS St George 98 guns, to HMS Elephant 74 guns, for the battle. Having taken up position opposite the Danish fleet, Nelson’s ships opened fire, despite the fact that three of the squadron has run aground on the central shoal, including Nelson’s former command HMS Agamemnon.
For Martin, as always when action was called for, he became impatient with delay, and it was necessary for him to contain his impatience in the presence of the crew. He deliberately slowed his step and, when Peters appeared with his sword-belt and his fighting sword, he allowed him to place it ready to put on, before fetching coffee for his Captain and Lieutenant Morgan, The sight of the pair sipping coffee at this time was commented upon by the crew who marvelled at their officer’s coolness in the face of imminent conflict.
The subsequent assault on the fort was a bloody one. Captain Rou lost his life in the fighting. The Danes certainly stood their ground without giving an inch more than they needed. The big ships’ action led by Admiral Nelson in HMS Elephant was an equally vigorous face-off that ended in a cease-fire based on politics rather than the guns of the fleets.
For Martin the entire business left a sour taste. It seemed a betrayal to the men of the Danish fleet, who had acted as they should. The action cost them the forfeiture of a large part of their fleet, after a battle they did not actually lose.
For Martin there was, as always, another task. Frigates, big or small were the workhorses of the navy and the Admiralty resented having them lie idle. It was no real surprise that HMS Bangor was ordered to St Petersburg. In company with the ship-sloop HMS Watchet 26 guns, the two ships made good time to the waters off Russian capital.
Martin prepared to receive visitors and sorted out the despatches he carried for the British agents he was ordered to contact.
As he rightly guessed, the arrival of two ships in the vicinity caused havoc among the small craft in the area. Among the small craft, scattered as they became identified as British ships, was one that had an accident with her mainsail. It was rounded up with several others, taken to gain information about any of the ships in Neva Bay. When the people from the boat which had mainsail trouble were interviewed, Martin sat in to the interrogation. The boatman was a thin young man who was obviously unwell. He spoke English and, once they were within the cabin with the door closed, he identified himself as the agent Martin was expecting to contact.
Known as Ivan only, Martin was able to re-assure him that his parents, who ran a silversmiths’ business in London, were both well and anxious to hear from him.
Ivan smiled as Martin read the bulletin he had been given. “I am very grateful for the way Britain has played fair with my parents. As you can see, I do not expect to see them again. I am ill and I have been told I will not see the year out. If I may I will read these notes here while I am able and possibly answer at least some of the questions immediately.”
“By all means, sir. Please use this cabin as you will. There are others to investigate so I will see they are dealt with elsewhere.”
He rose and left Ivan with his sealed orders.
There was no move from the Russian ships anchored in Neva Bay. No challenge to HMS Bangor and her companion, so the two ships extracted such information as was available from the small fry they had taken, and released them. They relieved the fishermen of their cargo of fresh fish. The fishermen had no real complaint since in fact they were paid more than they would have received in St Petersburg, and they did not have to pay the tax on their takings either. Ivan departed with the rest, despite the offer from Martin to carry him back to England and his parents. He was able to pass on the fact that a substantial cargo ship was expected in the port during the next few days.
For Martin it was a decision he had not expected to make. He sent for the captain of HMS Watchet. Lieutenant Colin Marshall arrived promptly on board and was seated in Martin’s cabin drinking coffee within the quarter hour.
“We have an interesting situation arising. The big cargo ship, mentioned by our agent, is probably French. I can only guess that it has coasted up the Baltic from Denmark using the German waters, and the
n Russian. The care that has gone into this ship’s progress to St Petersburg is an indication that the cargo is of extreme value or importance.
“Have we no idea at all of the cargo carried by the ship? Surely someone would know here in St Petersburg.” Colin Marshall was a pleasant competent seaman who handled his ship well, but Martin feared that he was not comfortable with the intrigues of international politics.
“Of course,” Martin concluded. “The cargo could be human, a Duchess perhaps, but why in a French ship?”
“I think, in the light of this news we have to see if we can intercept this ship, if only to settle our own minds in this matter.”
Marshall said “But what of our orders? Are we not required to return with all despatch?”
“I think in the circumstances we are justified in investigating this matter properly, in case we are witnessing a change of heart by the Russians. So we stay for a while anyway, and see what we can see.”
It was three days later that the French ship hove into sight. She was an East Indiaman mounting at least 10 guns, all bigger than the armament on both British ships. When she noticed the two warships outside the harbor entrance, she turned as if to run for it.
But the two Russian frigates moved out of Neva Bay and her master changed his mind.
For Martin the movement of the Russian ships decided him and he signalled Marshall to intercept the French ship while he crossed the course of the Russians to challenge their presence.
As they closed the lead Russian ship a voice called across from her decks to stand off out of the way.
The voice spoke in French. Martin called back in English pointing at the flag clearly flying free above his head. “Do not interfere. We are intercepting an enemy ship on the high seas”
This caused considerable comment on the deck of the Russian.
An English voice then called from the Russian ship. “I am the British ambassador here in St Petersburg. My name is Hervey. I order you to clear the area and allow the cargo ship through.”
