Sailing Orders

by David O'Neil

  HMS Diane was patrolling in the Indian Ocean searching for a French privateer that had been causing havoc with the trading ships from the African coast, and from South Africa.

  When she encountered the three merchantmen, they were storm-battered, and far north of their course. Deciding that they were in sore need of provisions and repair, their closest port was Bombay, and Martin decided to escort them there having shared with them, water and provisions from his own stores. The weather had moderated and the little convoy was little trouble, Martin had time to relax and allow his thoughts to drift over the events of the past months.

  The time had gone faster than he expected. The voyage out with the East Indiamen under the command of Sir Thomas Troubridge in Blenheim 74 guns had been lively, after an encounter with the enemy ships under the command of Admiral Linois. The French Admiral had broken off the action when he had suffered serious damage from the heavy guns of Blenheim.

  The journey round the Cape had been adventurous due to the heavy swell, a feature of the Southern African coast. On the long reach across to the Indian coast there were attempts, on two occasions by French privateers to cut out the East Indiamen. On both occasions it had been possible to cut them off and in one case inflict heavy damage on the audacious ship. Only the sudden fall of darkness had saved her.

  Now the Admiral had departed. Martin smiled when he recalled the meeting between Admirals Sir Thomas Troubridge and Sir Edward Pellew, one with orders from London to relinquish command, the other having received no orders to hand over. The two men finally resolved the problem with Troubridge departing for Cape Town. The only sorry thing about the whole matter was the condition of the Blenheim when she left Madras. After grounding on the way into the harbor she had been in a bad condition when she left for the Cape. The pumps were working full time as she sat at anchor before leaving. The Admiral insisted that they would be able to make the voyage.

  “Sail in sight.” The masthead reported. “Astern. Hull down. She looks like a cutter, sir.”

  “Mr. Reed, let us ease the sheets, and signal the convoy to close up once more.” He looked up at the masthead. “Keep an eye on the cutter. Let me know if she signals us.”

  “Aye, sir,” the lookout called and resumed his sweep of the horizon.

  The cutter Daisy caught them up before night and the news was not good. HM S Harrier under the command of Lieutenant Troubridge, the Admiral’s son, had arrived in Cape Town having lost touch while sailing in company with HMS Blenheim and the frigate HMS Java in a gale to the east of Madagascar. He feared both ships had been lost with all hands.

  The cutter had brought mail for the admiral in Bombay as well as for HMS Diane and for Martin in particular.

  With nightfall the wind dropped, so Lieutenant James Hammond, in command of the cutter, Daisy, dined with Martin and the Captains of two of the ships from the convoy. He was full of the gossip of the garrison at Cape Colony. The recent acquisition of the Colony from the Dutch had been accomplished with little problem. During the past few months the community had settled down to the new rule and a social scene had evolved. The lieutenant had obviously entered into the social whirl with a will and was enjoying life to the full.

  The returning breeze early the following day allowed the cutter to leave the convoy behind and race off with its despatches for the Admiral, Sir Edward Pellew.

  With the weather continuing fine, the convoy made good time and the ships were delivered to Bombay within the week.

  For Martin there was time to read his mail at leisure, to discover with great joy that Jennifer was again with child. Though once more he would be absent for the birth and miss getting acquainted with his new family member until his return to England.

  He answered her letter immediately with a special letter expressing his delight and love.

  He then began on the invitations to various social functions forming so much of the life of these outlying outposts of the Empire.

  Bombay was fascinating. Hot undoubtedly, though it had been hot in the West Indies, there was the eternal scent of spice and corruption. That had been the way the Doctor had described it. Dr Corder had a way with words Martin had found. His shrewd insight had been a source of entertainment, accompanied by his talent at cards, in passing the time on the long ocean voyage they had recently undertaken.

  He edited the letter he had started on the last voyage across the Indian Ocean. His last letter home had been despatched from Cape Colony. Now he was finding it difficult to concentrate. There had just occurred a bustle of movement and the sound of an impatient voice from the hallway outside the drawing room where he was trying to deal with his correspondence.

  He rose to his feet and strode over to the door to find out what was happening. Before he reached it, the door burst open and a flurry of skirts announced the arrival of a youthful body surmounted by an annoyed, but pretty face, hurtling into the room and into his arms.

  They, by instinct closed around the figure, allowing him to assess that the young lady was formed properly and proportionally.

  He released the lady from his embrace and bowed briefly. “Excuse me, miss? I do not believe we have been introduced.”

  A young man arrived at that point, breathless and flustered. “Isabella, I told you. Lieutenant Troubridge has gone.” He stopped, seeing Martin standing looking interestedly at the young lady. He bowed to Martin. “Your pardon for this intrusion, sir. I am Michael Lambert, sir, writer to the Governor. This is Lady Isabella Staunton. She has been up country for the past six months and was acquainted with the former occupant of this house, Lieutenant Troubridge. Your ship in the harbor convinced her that he was still here, though I did inform her that he had already left Bombay.”

  Martin bowed gravely to the couple. “Captain Martin Forrest-Bowers of the frigate Diane at your service. Since we are now introduced, can I offer you tea?” He clapped his hands. In response the servant who had followed the two young people into the house departed to arrange matters. The lady curtseyed daintily, and in a small voice said, “You are most kind, sir, especially after our rude and clumsy intrusion into your privacy.”

  Leading them through to the shaded veranda overlooking the Harbor and the sea beyond, he saw them seated and volunteered, “I am actually pleased to have an excuse to stop what I was doing. I confess it was duty which had me seated at this time, and I felt guilty that I felt it my duty to answer invitations at this time, having been absent for so long. Such correspondence should stem from a willing pen, don’t you agree?”

  Isabella smiled, “I confess, sir. It had not occurred to me. But on reflection I have to agree with you.” Her blue eyes twinkled as she looked up to meet his eye.

  Michael Lambert spoke up, asking how long the Diane expected to be in Bombay.

  “That will be up to the Admiral, though I do know I am due to return to England in six months’ time with the East Indian convoy,” Martin said, beckoning the servant to present the tea to his guests.

  “Will you be attending the Governor’s Ball on Saturday?” Isabella asked.

  “I have just opened an invitation,” Martin said, “I confess I had not yet decided.

  “Oh, you must come. Everybody will be there. It will give you the opportunity to become acquainted with local society.”

  “I presume you will be attending?”

  “Certainly, my father and mother are hosting matters as the Governor’s lady is still away up country at present. Her health is poor and the summer heat does her no good.”

  “I believe I will attend in that case, though my dancing skills have been neglected of late.”

  Michael broke in at that point. He had been feeling increasingly left out in the conversation and was jealous of the attitude of both Isabella and the Captain who seemed to have established an instant rapport. He had been unable to establish any in the past two years he had known Isabella. “Sir, what will your duties be here in the Company area?”

  “I have no idea as yet. I ans
wer to my Admiral, Sir Edward Pellew, who resides in Madras. With the departure of Wellesley and the death of Lord Cornwallis, it will be for Sir George Barlow at least until the arrival of Lord Minto to decide where I may best serve.”

  “Captain Forrest-Bowers, can I offer to show you a little of our city here while there is yet time?” The innocent suggestion from Isabella was a surprise. Such a suggestion in England based on such a short acquaintance would have raised eyebrows.

  Martin decided that things were apparently a little more relaxed here, and he answered, “If that is acceptable, I would be flattered to be escorted by such a charming guide.”

  For the rest of the visit he found it difficult to ignore the effect the presence of Isabella was having on him. He was also aware on the attitude of the young man with her, who was obviously enamoured of the young woman who showed not the slightest interest in him apart from friendship.

  He actually was sorry for the young man who seemed in all other aspects a likeable and, he would have thought, attractive person to others of the opposite sex, just not to Isabella.

  He mentally shrugged. That’s life he thought and put the matter from his mind.

  The following day, having established that there was no matter too pressing for his attention, he accompanied Lady Isabella Staunton in her carriage on a tour of Bombay.

  The busy dusty city was hot and smelly, the mass of humanity pressing and pushing, all involved in their own affairs.

  The turning away from that part of the city was a relief and Martin was delighted when the carriage drew up in the shady gardens of an abandoned estate overlooking the sea. There was a breeze off the water, refreshing after the humidity of the morning. They stepped down from the carriage and Isabella led him on a tour through the abandoned garden. It had obviously belonged to a family of wealth. There was a pool shaded by trees, and the flowers still created splashes of color wherever he looked. As they wandered through the paths and secret glades among the trees, Isabella caught his hand and led his to her favorite places. “I have known this garden for some years.” she said. “We swam in the pool, and played hide and seek.”

  “I can see it would have been a joy to young people. It is a joy to me now, especially in contrast to the city.”

  “Come now, we can eat.” She pulled him back to the poolside where a cloth had been laid with an assortment of food and a net with bottles of wine hung into the water of the pool to keep cool. Of the driver there was no sign.

  “Where is the driver?” He asked.

  “He will be sleeping until I call.” She said and sat daintily on the rug beside the repast. “Come, sit beside me.” She patted the rug and he joined her. As they talked and ate in an easy atmosphere he relaxed, laying back after a while and enjoying just being there, smelling the perfume of the lady beside him. He was not surprised when she joined him laying down, her soft breath brushing his cheek.

  Such was society in Bombay at the time, though discretion was necessary, there was a tolerance implicit in the attitudes of the members of society, owing to the weather and the demands of duty and the lack of a changing population. No official notice was taken of the blossoming relationship between Captain Forrest-Bowers and Lady Isabella Staunton. Such was their own discretion, little scandal would have been there for people to gossip about anyway.

  With the needs of the ship to attend to and the succession of tasks assigned, the affair which started quietly ended quietly, without bitterness and in fact with a friendship that endured.

  The arrival of the 74 gun HMS Samphire with its full complement of officers during an absence of HMS Diane chasing pirates further north along the coast provided the social scene with sufficient new faces to satisfy even the most voracious appetite. The legendary willingness of the Navy in these circumstances ensured that, upon his return to Bombay, Martin was relieved of the burden on his conscience. Lady Isabella was now rumoured to be engaged to Lord Patrick Simion, heir to an Earldom with estates on the Norfolk coast.

  Impatient to get back into what he regarded as real action, Martin attended the Governor’s residence with his report on the cruise. He was aware that the convoy was assembling in the harbor for the voyage to England, and was eager to ensure he was accompanying them.

  In fact there was no need to worry. There was no question in the event. The arrival of two armed ships of the Bombay Marine, to assume the duties the frigate had undertaken, was anticipated and his orders were already struck.

  The convoy would be under the overall command of Commodore Sir Henry Balcombe KB, in command of the 64 gun HMS Boscombe arriving from China with ships joining the convoy. She had with her two brig/sloops, each of twenty guns, HMS Dido and HMS Pluto, plus the 32 gun frigate, HMS Banner, a local-built ship also returned from the China station.

  Gazing down over the harbor at the assembling convoy, Martin was astonished at the number of ships involved and the appearance of many. All were armed, many heavily, since all were merchantmen. Some of the bigger ships were painted in the fashion of naval vessels with the buff and black hulls painted to highlight the gun decks in naval pattern, with dummy ports scattered the length of the decks indistinguishable at this distance from the real.

  At the time of sailing there were forty ships in the convoy, Though the departure was managed fairly smoothly, the fleet was scattered over an area of several miles by the time all ships were clear of the harbor.

  HMS Diane, Martin, her captain, second in command of the convoy. Was the last to clear the land, her orders currently to chase up the stragglers so that some sort of pattern might be established before nightfall.

  It took three days to get the convoy. in a state to satisfy the Commodore. By that time the temper of all the escort captains was severely frayed. The cutter, Daisy, arrived in Bombay as the convoy was leaving and, having delivered its despatches, had the misfortune to be seized upon its departure for the Cape, to sail with the convoy. She was thereafter condemned to act as courier between ships for the duration of the Indian Ocean voyage. Called to the flagship during the third day, Martin was conveyed to the Boscombe by the Daisy. He commiserated with young Lieutenant Hammond, her captain. “When the Commodore speaks the world stands still” He mis-quoted with a wry smile.

  “And lesser beings tremble.” Hammond completed the mis-quote with a tired shrug. “May I offer a glass of wine, sir. It will take at least 30 minutes to beat up to the flag.”

  Martin accepted gratefully. It had been a tiring time ever since leaving harbor. He sometimes thought that the merchantmen were deliberately obstructive, the way they handled their precious craft. He sighed. Perhaps obstructive was the wrong word to use though reflected the actions for the rearmost ships in the fleet.

  Hammond brought the wine himself and stood with Martin watching the parade of ships as they clawed their way past toward the head of the convoy.

  “I heard before I left Bombay that the beautiful Lady Isabella is to marry!” he said.

  Martin looked at him sharply, suspicious that the young man was provoking him.

  He relaxed the comment was just that, a comment. “I was aware there was something in the wind. I am acquainted with Lady Isabella. She was kind enough to show me about Bombay when I first arrived, why, it must be a year since?”

  “Certainly a year, I recall you entertained me when we met sailing north on your way to Bombay. That was after Admiral Troubridge was lost.”

  “Was anything else discovered about that loss?”

  “Nothing reported, though odd pieces of wreckage found could have been from either Blenheim or Java. There was no real way of telling.”

  The Daisy came abreast of the flagship and ropes, thrown from the deck of the flag, were used to secure the cutter against fenders alongside. Her sails were dropped hastily and Martin hauled himself up and through the sally-port onto the deck of the flagship. He straightened his coat and hat then raised his hat in salute to the Quarterdeck and the flag.

  The Commodore’s a
ide greeted him and escorted him to the great cabin where Commodore Balcombe was seated at his desk.

  To his surprise the Commodore rose to his feet and came round the desk to greet him. “Captain Forrest-Bowers, is it not. I know your father well. We were middies together at the beginning of the American revolt in Boston. We shared the gunroom of the old Indomitable, 60 guns. It leaked like a sieve. The sound of the pumps will haunt me to the day I die. But we had some good times aboard her regardless. Perhaps he mentioned me?”

  Martin was rather taken aback by the effusiveness of the Commodore and decided in the circumstances to humour him.

  “Why, sir, I do recall your name from my boyhood, though I regret it was some time ago now.”

  “Of course, my boy, of course. It was long ago, he seemed to drop into a dream for a few moments. Then he woke up, walked briskly round his desk and seated himself. He picked up a paper from the desk and passed it to Martin. It was in the usual form and detailed his duties as escort to Cape Colony. It went on to say that new orders would be given at that point.

  “You do understand that this convoy splits at the 15 degree north line of latitude. The China division turns south-east to clear the island of Ceylon en route to Canton, under the command of Captain Arnold in HMS Banner, We will to meet HMS Juno and HMS Nanking at the rendezvous. They will form the escort for the China convoy with Captain Arnold. Have I made all clear to you, Captain?”

  “Perfectly clear, sir. Though I am a little surprised at the need, sir?”

  The Commodore tapped his nose with his finger. “Strange things happen at sea, Captain. It is as well to be prepared.”

  “Quite so!” Martin agreed. “Better safe than sorry!”

  The Commodore rose to his feet once more and staggered slightly, catching his balance against the desk. “Well, good bye, Captain Forrest-Bowers. Good luck and I have been happy to meet you.” He turned and gazed out of the stern windows humming quietly to himself.

  Martin turned and left the great cabin. On deck the First Lieutenant, acting as aide to the Commodore, approached Martin. “How is he, sir?”