“Zut Allors!” said Armand
Marty laughed and ordered a broadside of chain shot to be fired into their rigging.
The guns barked and smoke billowed. When it cleared they saw the merchantman wallowing under backed sails and the flag coming down. Their rigging was cut in several places and their mainsail was shredded.
A boarding crew led by Marty soon had the ship under control and they identified her as a Brig/Sloop French built out of Marseilles called the Ellen Louise. She was carrying leather, wine, brandy, hams and sausage, fine cloth and the personal belongings of several senior officers of the occupying French forces that was following them to Malta.
“It’s a keeper” Marty called across.
“Ok, you command her” Armand called back “I will send you another ten men.”
Marty ended up with a crew of 15, including the shadow six who as usual managed to stay close to him.
They resumed their course northwest albeit a bit slower as they could only travel as fast as the prize. All the same they picked up two more prizes and had a healthy little convoy. Then the weather suddenly turned. A fierce Mediterranean storm swept in from the north and stuck with them for three days. It was as much as they could do to stay afloat, their mainmast was snapped off half way up and they got separated from the other ships.
When the weather cleared the did their best to jury rig a top half to the main mast and got her underway again, but all they could achieve was about 4 knots. Marty hoped they could make Gibraltar where they could affect better repairs but it was going to be slow going.
“Sail Ho!” called down the lookout “Looks like the Alouette from her topsails.”
That would be a miracle, thought Marty, as he grabbed a telescope and shinnied up the ratlines to try and see for himself. It could be ,he thought as the similarity was striking. One thing he could be sure off the ship was heading their way.
It only took an hour or so for the ship to get close enough that they could clearly see her hull and that it wasn’t the Alouette. It could be her twin but the differences were obvious to Marty. As she came closer still, Marty prepared his men to try and bluff it out and convince the Corvette’s Captain they were French crew.
They hove to when commanded and waited while a boat came over. Marty was surprised when the Captain himself climbed up the tumble home and appeared over the side followed closely by a dozen heavily armed sailors. He looked at Marty and the crew then turned and waved to his ship. All the gun ports opened and they ran out their guns.
“I don’t know who you are but you are not the crew of this ship. Where is my brother, the Captain?” he asked in French and drew his sword.
Marty knew they could overpower the boarding party but faced with the guns of the Corvette he knew they wouldn’t stand a chance afterwards. So he replied in English.
“I am sorry I don’t speak French. Martin Stockley, Midshipman Royal Navy at your service” and he sketched a bow. “Tom please bring the French skipper here please.” He added.
The Corvette Captain didn’t say anything, just waited, and when the Ellen Louise’s Captain came up from below he smiled and said. “Anton! Are you well? Did they treat you properly?”
“Yes I am alright Stephan” Anton replied “The Roast Beef treated me OK. Beware this young one speaks perfect French as do half his crew.”
“Really?” Stephan replied and looked at Marty with renewed interest. “Now what would the British need a French speaking crew for? Well, we will find out in good time.” He then addressed Marty directly “You and your men will be transferred to my ship. Do you give your parole?”
Marty knew the game was up for now and replied “No Sir. I will not abandon my men.”
“Very gallant of you. Please place all your weapons on the deck in front of you. Oh and you will be searched, so don’t play games” Captain Stephan replied.
“Drop your weapons” he ordered. “All of them”
They were grouped together on the foredeck and then taken in two groups across to the Corvette.
She is identical to the Alouette, Marty thought.
He was separated from his men and taken to the Captain’s cabin. The guard stood him front of the desk and made him stand while they waited for the Captain to return. He felt the ship get under way and turn so the wind was almost on her stern. Malta then he thought.
The Captain returned and sat at his desk. He looked at Marty for a long moment.
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen”
“How long have you been a Midshipman?”
“4 years”
“Where did you learn to speak French”
“Onboard ship. The Navy run French classes to improve the men’s minds.”
“Don’t try and be clever with me, I will have you whipped. How many of your men speak French?”
“Only a few, maybe four or five.”
“What are you doing in the Mediterranean?”
No answer.
The Captain nodded to the guard who stepped around and punched Marty in the stomach folding him up so he landed on his hands and knees on the deck planking. The blow had caught him right under the diaphragm and knocked every bit of air out of him. He was retching and trying to breath at the same time. The guard grabbed Marty by the collar and dragged him to his feet.
“I repeat. What were you doing in the Mediterranean?”
“Fuck off”
The guard hit him again and this time followed it up with a couple of solid kicks to his ribs and then dragged his head up by his hair and punched him in the mouth. He dragged him to his feet again.
“Same question”
“We were here with the Fleet, we was just sent home with dispatches and grabbed a couple of prizes on the way.”
“Where is the fleet now”
“No idea. We left them in Sicily.”
The Captain looked at him for a long moment.
“I think you know more than you are saying but the authorities in Malta will loosen your tongue. Take him to the bread room and lock him in there.”
Chapter 19 Escape
Marty was half dragged half led down to the bread room and thrown inside into the pitch dark. He stayed still for a while checking his breathing and running his hands over his body. Two or even three broken ribs he guessed. He wasn’t coughing up blood so that was manageable. He was bleeding from a split lip and it felt like he had a loose tooth, but he was still operational that was all that counted.
That fucker is going to pay for that, he thought and then reached down and took off his boots. He had made sure he was wearing his lace up calf boots when they realised they would be boarded, and started picking at the stitching of the back of the seam that ran around the top of the upper of his right boot. It came away easily and he worked his fingers in between the layers. A moment later he pulled out the blade of a cutthroat razor which he tied to his forearm with a scrap of cloth he tore from the hem of his shirt. He then removed the laces of both boots. He tied them together with a Turk’s head knot by touch (he had practiced tying knots with his eyes shut for hours) in the middle leaving him with around 2 feet of chord with a large knot in the middle.
He silently moved to the door and checked it by feel. It was exactly the same as the Alouette with a mortice lock rather than an external hasp and padlock. He went back to his boots and this time picked at the stitching on the left one. This produced a pair of lockpicks. He then waited until he figured it was past midnight and then listened at the door again. He thought he could hear snoring, it was time to take a risk.
The lock succumbed in around 10 seconds and he gently pushed the door to open it. It opened about a foot then stopped.
He waited. When nothing happened he pushed his head through the gap and looked around. The space outside the door was illuminated dimly by a glim. By its light he could see the guard was fast asleep propped against the bulkhead with his legs across the door. He eased himself through the gap being care
ful of his ribs and silenced the guard permanently by slitting his throat with the razor. He took his knife and pistol.
He slipped up the stairs on his bare feet. There was someone at the top.
He paused, listening. There weren’t any voices only the sound of the ship under reduced sail, he knew there would be at least one man on the helm.
He backed down the stairs into the shadows and scratched his knife on one of the steps. The figure at the top didn’t react so he did it again a little louder. This time he looked around and down into the well. Marty scratched again and the junior officer stepped down the steps. Marty stayed hidden until he reached the bottom then quickly looped the chord he had created from his bootlaces around the sailor’s throat from behind and pulled it hard at the same time as putting his knee in the small of his back. The knot crushed the man’s windpipe immediately and, as the shock hit, his knees buckled. Marty let him slide down until his knee was just below the nape of his neck and gave an extra hard tug. The knot was now under the doomed man’s chin and the tug against the knee efficiently broke his neck. It had taken less than 10 seconds to finish him off without making a sound.
He took the officer’s jacket, put it on and then went back up the stairs. As he came on deck he could see the helmsman silhouetted against the starry sky. He walked over as if he belonged there and made as if he was just going to look over the stern rail, but as he passed the helmsman he clubbed him unconscious with the pistol. As the sailor collapsed he caught him under the arms and lowered him gently to the deck.
The wheel was starting to swing so he grabbed it and used ropes to secure it in a fixed position. A quick tour of the deck found two lookouts who were sleeping on duty that were quickly dispatched. He couldn’t believe his luck just four men on watch! This Captain was an overconfident fool!
He knew the rest of his men were secured in the cable tier so that was his next destination.
He crept through the gun deck past snoring and farting sailors in their hammocks. The smell was even more rank than on his ship and the deck was filthy making him wish he still had his boots on . He made it to the end and slipped through the hatch into the passage to the cable tier. There was a guard and he was awake. He asked who was there. Marty mumbled something in French as he approached. The guard hesitated, big mistake, Marty stepped up close and his knife flashed forward under the dead man’s ribs and into his heart, his hand clamped over the guards mouth.
The door was padlocked but a quick search got him the keys and he opened the door to see Tom stood there ready to attack whoever opened the door. He relaxed as he saw it was Marty and broke out a grin in welcome.
“Get the men out and up on deck. Then meet me in the Captain’s cabin so I can give you the keys to the weapons locker and magazine” he whispered. “Try not to wake the crew on your way up”.
The guard at the Captain’s door gave up without a fight when he found himself looking down the barrel of a pistol. He was tied up and gagged just to be sure he didn’t cause any problems.
Marty crept into the cabin and up to the snoring man laid out on the cot. He smelt of brandy. He thought for a second then muttered “Sod it” and clubbed him on the head with the pistol butt. The door opened a minute later while he was hogtying the captain and Tom came in.
“A bit extreme Sir?” he said looking at the trussed up man.
“That fucker is responsible for doing at least two of my ribs and I might lose a tooth” snapped Marty.
“Getting all he deserved then” grinned Tom.
Marty went through the desk and found some keys which he handed over.
“I want all our men armed with at least two pistols and a blade” he ordered. “Put the rest of the arms under lock and key and set a guard. Then get two swivels loaded with cannister and set up them up either side of the quarterdeck.”
“Aye Aye Sir’ said Tom
“And stack any bodies on the deck. Make them look scary” he added as an afterthought.
Tom just nodded and left.
As dawn broke they had control of the deck. They called the men up from below to start their watch who then found themselves looking down the wrong end of a couple of swivels manned by grinning Basques. They were also greeted with the site of the corpses of their dead comrades laid out to show off their wounds to their best advantage and their Captain in irons on the quarterdeck with a gun to his head. The English gave them no time to gather their wits and herded them with shouts and kicks into a group covered by the swivels.
A couple of officers and mates tried to resist but they were killed without mercy and that lesson wasn’t lost on the rest of the crew as the bodies were tossed on top of the ones already on deck. Antton went around, relieved them of their knives and tossed them over the side.
Brutal, uncompromising tactics and shock and awe enabled fifteen men to take over a ship manned with almost a hundred.
Marty had the Captain brought onto the main deck. He had a noose rigged from the end of the mainsail yard and had the Captain stood beneath it. He then signalled the merchantman to come alongside.
The Captain of the merchantman could clearly see his brother stood below the noose. Marty called across and told him that he was to do exactly what he was told or his brother would hang. To make his point he had Tom place the noose around his brother’s neck. He then told him to heave to.
When both ships were stopped about half a cable apart, Marty sent a boat over to retrieve all their personal belongings. Once his men were back on board he selected 8 frenchmen to replace them at the oars and started to ferry over the crew of the Corvette. He kept the boat covered by a couple of swivels at all times.
Before they came back for the next group he made them load the boat with brandy and wine for the return trip. In this way they took the most valuable cargo from the Merchantman and relieved themselves of the trouble of guarding a crew that outnumbered them almost seven to one.
Marty kept the Captain until the last load and before he let him go he stood in front of him and said
“I should repay you for the beating you treated me to but I think having to answer to your superiors why you are coming home on your brothers ship while yours is now mine will be revenge enough for me. But be sure though if our paths cross again I will gut you like the pig you are” He then signalled to his men and they threw the retched man into the boat it was half way to the other ship when Marty had them underway and heading straight to Gibraltar.
Did he have a conscience about the dead men and the fact he had put almost a hundred men on a ship designed for thirty? Not at all, and even if he had, a pang of pain from his ribs reminded him of his treatment and he felt completely justified.
His fifteen men had to work extra hard to sail the Corvette and their progress was slow but the weather held and they made it to Gibraltar without too much trouble.
There they found the Alouette with the other two prizes and when they moored alongside, and Armand and the rest of the crew realised who they were, there were a great deal of good natured insults and banter thrown back and forth.
Chapter 20 Homecoming
Marty reported to Armand who listened without surprise to his protégé’s story. He gave him twenty extra men which would leave the Alouette shorthanded but the profit would be worth it.
Armand used Admiral Hood’s letter to avoid having their prizes taken by the port Admiral and they left as soon as they could. It took two and a half weeks to make their home port and Armand left immediately for London with the dispatches and to report to Hood and Wickham.
Blaez, his Dutch Shepherd pup, was at The Farm and greeted him enthusiastically with much jumping up and licking. He had grown to be a fairly big dog in the months he had been away and could put his paws on Marty’s chest if he stood on his back legs. Marty was surprised he remembered him. They spent a while getting to know each other again and Marty resolved that he wouldn’t leave him behind again.
He had Will Barbour bind his ribs to make
them more comfortable and spent the first day back giving orders for the inventorying of the prize cargos and the new Sloop which was called the Hirondelle. Blaez followed him around everywhere.
The second day he was persuaded by Bill Clarence that they could manage without him and he should rest. So he settled down to catch up on his letter writing. He wrote to his mother, Miss Kate, Captain Turner and the Count De Marchet. When they were finished he got Will to take them to the local post.
He started to write to Caroline. He wasn’t sure she would still want to see him after he had been away for so long so he couched the letter in terms that left it open for her to turn him down if she wanted. He was in fact working himself up into quite an emotional state and was full of doubt and fear about their relationship. He was confused about his feelings for her as all this relationship malarkey was new to him and no one was around to give him any advice. So he stopped writing and decided to put the letter aside until the morning as it was getting late. The dog sensed his confusion and sat with his head on his lap to comfort him.
He slept well and got up late after eating he asked Will to prepare him a bath. They had one of the new hip baths and he lowered himself into the hot water with a sigh. He still had a big yellow and purple bruise over his ribs but he could feel that they were slowly healing. His tooth had firmed up on its own and hadn’t fallen out as he feared it would.
He was very comfortable and dozed off. He woke with the water noticeably cooler and a feeling that there was someone in the room with him. He looked around slowly and saw a figure sitting in a chair against the wall. Blaez was led on the floor between them, just watching.
“How long have you been there” he asked
“About half an hour” Caroline answered, “that’s a nasty bruise.”
“Yes. A Frenchman decided he would try and beat some secrets out of me. He broke a couple of ribs in the process” he replied with a smile.
The Special Operations Flotilla: The Dorset Boy Book 2 Page 17
