by Cal Clement
H.M.S Valor
6 Aug 1808
50 Degrees 40’N, 1 Degree 38’W
William stood on the quarterdeck of the valor, observing the hands as they milled about their work. Captain Grimes, currently below in his cabin, would be on deck soon. William was already in awe of his new commander, a sailors’ Captain, as far as William could tell he was a supremely disciplined man but also very fair with the crew. He had spoken with Mr. Ordman, the Midshipman whom he had met on the pier accounting loading supplies, about their commander. William learned of an instance where Captain Grimes had derated a Midshipman, causing him to become an ordinary seaman for a time because the young man was not proficient enough in basic seamanship and gunnery tasks. This sort of thing happened regularly throughout the King’s Navy, but it was a horrid sentence for a young hopeful officer. This sort of handling though, would often teach the young man the most basic of fundamentals and give him enough perspective from a viewpoint he was previously unaccustomed to make him all the better an officer in the end. William had also discovered, in his conversation with Mr. Ordman, that Captain Grimes had stayed the hand of the Master at Arms very recently when a landsman pressed into the service had been caught stealing from the officer’s mess. This was a very unorthodox treatment of crew; William had never heard of restraint like that amongst the fleet.
Their departure from port had been a hurried affair, William scarcely had time to retrieve his belongings from the inn in between preparations. His introduction with Captain Grimes had been similarly rushed and informal although William suspected now that the ship was underway, he would very soon get to know him better. Even as William was in awe of his commander, he had heard Captain Grimes’ reputation far before setting foot on the H.M.S Valor. Jonathan Grimes was known for his extraordinary skill at seamanship and combat, but in some circles, he drew ire and criticism as being a bit of a rogue. Bucking tradition and protocol were often career ending mistakes, but the Lords of the Admiralty overlooked Grimes’ occasional departure choosing to relish in his almost exclusively successful exploits. This caused a resentment among competing officers of the fleet, especially those who did not personally know Grimes. Usually, once a man met Captain Johnathan Grimes he would be endeared by his charm and eventually made a friend by his relentless loyalty. Captain Grimes would give a man the shirt off his back if in need and as several sailors could personally attest, his boat cloak on a cold watch at night.
Captain Grimes materialized from his cabin and made his way up the stairs to the quarterdeck. His uniform coat and hat missing caused no confusion among the crew, passing sailors all touched brow and spoke their greeting. Grimes was a man of formidable stature and composure, his blouse did little to disguise his powerful broad shoulders and chest and his sleeves, though designed to be loose fitting, barely contained the man’s arms. William instantly began to understand some of the unflattering things he had heard about Captain Grimes. For a commanding Captain to present himself this way before the crew was unheard of, although the crew responded to him all the same. Discipline aboard seemed to be of the highest order, in fact the ship was the cleanest and most kept William had ever seen. It seemed odd to William but at the same time, strangely endearing. He had never worked for a Captain who was as approachable or informal as this man.
“Lieutenant Pike,” Grimes said beckoning him, “Follow me forward man, we have a few things to discuss if you will humor me.”
“Aye Sir,” William responded, instantly following his leader and simultaneously struggling to keep pace with him.
“A brisk walk in the wind should help the mind digest.” Grimes said, almost as much to himself as to William, then turning toward the quartermaster at the wheel, “Make your course south west by south, we should be into channel rollers in two hours’ time, if the wind holds we will make our way west.” Grimes looked over to the officer on watch, “Young man, top gallants and royals if you please and see to it that the sheets are addressed on the main, they look slack to my eye.” Midshipman Shellam turned and began issuing orders to the crew, causing a cascade of officers and petty officers to give in kind directions to accomplish the Captain’s orders.
“William,” Grimes continued to his new First Lieutenant, “It may not seem as such, but our crew is out of sorts. The press brought in mostly landsmen and we are still fourteen men shy of full compliment. Our tasking from the Admiralty will take us across the Atlantic to the Caribbean, such is not for an un-seaworthy crew.” Grimes stepped over a line and seeing it laying about on the deck, uncoiled and a mess, began to set it right himself. A passing bosun’s mate, recognizing the situation, rendered his respects and interrupted the Captain mid-task.
“My apologies Sir, I should have caught this long before you, Sir. Here Sir, I will finish it and double check the rest.” The bosun’s mate said.
“No apologies, get a seaman to do it and ensure the crew understands the conditions for line on a King’s Ship.” Grimes responded, again setting off to walk the deck with William.
“I will see to it at once Sir.” William said, “Also, I meant to ask you when you would permit me to gun drill the crews?”
“You may start as you see fit Will, the sooner the better, old bony still has men o’ war prowling about and I won’t be caught with my pants down. See to it that the men understand quarters though first, they need to be in the right place when contact is made. Anyone dithering about in the face of the enemy won’t fare well through a fight.” Grimes continued as they approached the bowsprit in the very front of the Valor. Grimes took a step up, bracing himself on a line and stepped onto the rail. William, sensing he was expected to follow suit, also stepped up and looked out over their intended course. He could see the gently rolling waves ahead gleaming in the midmorning sun. The southern horizon was foreboding and showed large, dark cloud formations hovering over the English Channel almost warning the Valor’s crew of the ever-present threat from the seas compounded by the current state of war with France.
“As First Lieutenant, I want you to understand the extent of our orders,” the Captain continued, still looking out over their course. “We are to cross the Atlantic to report to the fleet in Nassau. From there we will be making patrols through the Caribbean, hunting for Bonaparte’s privateers. They have been causing all manner of havoc for the East India Company, especially in those waters. There is however special instruction for all manner of King’s ships currently. These are secret instructions, so I expect you to keep these to yourself as You and I are the only officers aboard who know and it must remain that way unless one of us perishes at sea.” Grimes paused momentarily and then continued in a lower voice, “No ship of His Majesty’s Navy is to board any ship of The Company, we can approach to four cables, but under no circumstances any closer no matter the distress, not even if they hail us to. Do you understand William?” His tone had turned very grave and he made no eye contact with William.
“I understand, Sir. But if I may ask, why? Why would we be prevented from assisting a Company ship in distress?” William asked, genuinely perplexed by the intent and broad nature of the order.
“I do not know, nor do I understand fully the benefit to allowing a ship sharing our colors to perish. However, those are the special orders for all ships operating in the Caribbean. We will follow them.” Grimes stated, finally stepping off the rail and heading aft along the larboard side. The pair continued their walk along the deck toward the rear of the ship, stopping several times for Lieutenant Pike to address crew and have something corrected. Each time Captain Grimes would make comment or conversation with members of the crew, encouraging good handling or redirecting poor. Finally reaching the quarterdeck and completing their tour topside, Grimes turned to Lieutenant Pike, “I’ll leave you to it then, I’m going aloft, see to it we maintain our course out. Westward once we get into the channel rollers.”
“Aye Sir.” William replied, noting a disturbing change in the Captain’s demeanor. Something seeme
d to be troubling the man, though Lieutenant Pike could not determine quite what it was. William thought it could have something to do with the state of affairs with France, maybe the number of inexperienced men through the crew or possibly the odd special order to the fleet. Whatever it was, it certainly did not slow the man’s vigor up the ratlines and high aloft, William noted, watching the Captain through the rigging faster than any man he had ever seen.
High aloft and away from the crew, Captain Grimes mulled over his current state of affairs. Tasked with a Trans-Atlantic voyage, while the channel fleet has recently reported several French men o’ war slipping the blockade. He was short manned and many of the hands he had were quite inexperienced. The Valor could hold her own against just about anything and had in recent memory. But Captain Grimes had reservations about this cruise, with special orders from the Admiralty. For the life of him he could not work out in his mind why, why would they be ordered to keep clear of the Company? How was he, a Captain ordered to stop privateer interference in their trade, supposed to accomplish this if he had to stay at maximum cannon range at the very closest? Johnathan Grimes toiled over it in his mind, making some silent resolutions to himself and cursing the circumstances forcing him to make decisions such as these. The channel rollers were starting to pick up with England far astern and he could feel the Valor beginning to change course, just as he had ordered. “We have work to do, so let us quit this pathetic sulking and heave to, for God’s sake we are the pride of the fleet!” Grimes spoke aloud, to the ship and to himself. With that, he scurried down the ratlines as the ship’s movements became more and more pronounced by the big rolling waves in the channel.
The deck of the Valor was a swarm of activity when Captain Grimes rejoined the crew. Uninitiated sailors were not hard to spot and were typically pausing between tasks to be sick over the rail. The landsmen tripped over their own feet on the moving deck in the heaving swells, winds from the west and northwest blew hard and propelled them along at a rapid pace. But with seas this large, too much speed could be a disaster. Captain Grimes turned toward the quarterdeck, but as he was about to call out command, Lieutenant Pike summoned the officer of the watch over and spoke something to him. Then in a flash, the watch officer scurried off the quarterdeck issuing command, “Hands, make ready to reef royals! Quartermaster make your heading west by southwest. Below watch check all cargo and cannon are well secured, look lively men, come on!” Cobb the Second Lieutenant called out. This caused a flurry of secondary direction and commands from midshipmen, petty officers and the crew were instantly in action to set the ship condition to Lieutenant Pike’s orders.
“This bastard is going to blade himself off to the wind to avoid damaging masts and square rig as he reefs sail, then slug it out with the rollers with main, topsail and jib. Not what I would do, but, effective, I suppose.” Grimes said to himself. Rain was now pouring, soaking all on deck, then Pike beckoned Cobb back over and another condition change was ordered.
”Hands, reef royals and top gallants, come about westerly once that is done, double line those aft braces.” Cobb crowed out in his usual manner. It was a slight change, but Grimes was irritated by the half step. Crews must have confidence that the orders they are receiving are correct, the first time they receive them. Anything less than this erodes a crew’s confidence in their command and can lead to nightmarish problems. Grimes made a mental note to correct this with Pike. Even if he must delay the change of sail momentarily to be sure of his decision, he cannot appear to be second guessing himself. Despite his irritation, Grimes took notice of how well the Valor got along running before the wind under main and topsail. He was endeared to Pike, watching him command the ship, even though he had made the half step, his final command was exactly what Grimes himself would have ordered. Other Captains would be threatened by proficiency such as this in a first lieutenant billet, Grimes loved it. He smiled as he looked out into the gathering swells and weather in the course ahead.
“Mr. Pike, about those gun drills…” Grimes yelled over to the Lieutenant through the foul weather.
“Aye Sir.” Lieutenant Pike responded, both bewildered and intrigued by the Captain’s choice of timing. Then he turned to the crew of the Valor and cried out, “BEAT TO QUARTERS!”
Chapter 2
“Gazelle”
12 Aug 1808
N 2 Degree 4’ E 8 Degrees 13’
Omibwe awoke in a feverish sweat, his head spinning and his eyes unable to focus. He was in a dimly lit room and seemed to either be sick or everything was moving, or both. Omibwe rolled on his side, as he did his eyes started to focus. He was startled by a tall, thin man sitting close to him. Omibwe started to vomit and the man held a pail for him. While he wretched, Omibwe became aware of a terrible pain in his right leg, like it was burning. He rolled back and tried to sit up, but his strength failed him. The thin man leaned forward, pail still in one hand and spoke some words, nothing Omibwe could understand, then he tried again putting a hand out onto Omibwe’s shoulder.
“Your wound was bad. I had to take your leg.” The man said to him, this time in a language he knew. He then wet a cloth from a wash basin and put it on Omibwe’s forehead. In the candlelight Omibwe looked around, where was his sister? His parents? Where was he? He felt awful and weak, hot and cold at the same time, his head awash with questions and waves of nausea beating him down onto the hard-wooden slab he lay on.
“Your sister and parents are here. They are on the ship with us.” The man said, opening up a bottle and pouring some of its contents into a small cup. The mention of a ship snapped at Omibwe, the men chasing him, who had shot him, they had taken his family on their ships.
“Drink this,” The man said holding out the small cup,” you need to rest, or you won’t make it my friend.”
Omibwe drank the contents of the small cup. It was horrid, he coughed and gagged a little but held the liquid down. His spinning head felt heavier. After a few minutes, his pain subsided and soon Omibwe drifted off unable to remain conscious.
The tall man stood next to Omibwe as he fell back asleep. His shoulders and back ached, his mind was exhausted. He took the pail Omibwe had been sick into and left the small room, in a passageway on his way topside he looked and saw the little girl he knew to be Omibwe’s sister. He tried to make eye contact with her, but she buried her face into her mother’s arms. He then continued to the ladder well and went topside to the deck of the ship.
“Hey Frenchman, did you save that little shit, or do we need to dump him over?” the large man with a scarred face asked him.
“I would say he will be fine. But all I can say is he will recover.” He replied, “And my name is LeMeux.”
“I don’t give a damn Frenchman, if it were up to me you would be hangin’ by yer neck with the rest of your crew and we would’ve left that running welp to bleed out on the beach!” the man sneered, drawing nearer to LeMeux as if to strike.
“Enough!” The Captain of the ship approached the two, “Go about your business doctor and be thankful you are still breathing.” Turning toward the scarred man, “I’m not sure how many times I have to tell you, dead men collect no price. Now, you have filled the holds yet again and you will collect fair wages, but do not antagonize my prisoners or you will be in irons among them Mr. Sprague. Do I make myself clear?”
“Aye, Sir,” Sprague replied, his countenance toward the Captain just as ragged.
LeMeux emptied his pail over the side and immediately headed back down for his patient. He paused momentarily near the cell where the young man’s sister and parents were. He considered trying to get their attention but the sentry roaming the passageway was too close. He continued on to see to the young man instead.
This was the second voyage to Africa LeMeux had made since being pressed into the service of this slaver ship. A year ago, he had been sailing to Martinique aboard a French merchantman. LeMeux’s medical education had saved him from the grim fate of the rest of the crew and passenge
rs aboard the small French trade vessel, but he was nonetheless a prisoner on the ship. The doctor obtained a rudimentary grasp on the native language of the region the slavers were targeting on his first voyage to Africa and it was useful on that trip as he was kept quite busy treating the abducted. Omibwe had been brought to him in what would have likely been the young man’s final hours. Unconscious and bleeding profusely, with a shattered tibia the strong young African’s condition improved somewhat after LeMeux stopped his blood loss. But infection had set in rapidly and LeMeux made the perilous gamble of amputating Omibwe’s lower right leg. It had worked and the young man was recovering. To what end the doctor was unsure of. This crew of brigand men were delivering Africans to market, to be sold off as slaves in the Americas. LeMeux spent the first few days just keeping Omibwe off of death’s doorstep, over the course of the next few days he would tend to the young man as best he could. It was difficult enough were he caring for a patient under normal circumstances, this situation was extreme. Not only was his patient a prisoner and subject to a diet almost too meager to survive on, he was also. Additionally, the pitching and rolling of the ship made almost all of the prisoner occupants ill. This coupled with the smell of dozens of prisoners in cramped quarters, in severe heat and with poor ventilation below deck made a putrid concoction which amplified every misery experienced aboard. Their captors were merciless animals who often tormented and abused their prisoners as entertainment. Though Lemeux noticed, this was never done within sight of the captain.
