Lieutenant Fury

by G. S. Beard

  If the master was to be believed, then he had visited most places on earth during his career. Hoggarth broke into a broad grin at the jibe, his face wrinkling from years of sun and salt spray.

  ‘What is it like?’ Fury asked, eager as always to learn as much as possible.

  ‘Well,’ Hoggarth began, ‘the first you will see of it is a massive rock jutting out almost to the Mediterranean, nearly 1,400 feet high at its peak. The fortress of Gibraltar stands at its foot, and it is joined to the mainland of Spain by a low isthmus now, although at one time it was most likely an island. It lies at the easternmost tip of Algeciras Bay, or Gibraltar Bay as it is sometimes called, with the town of Algeciras on the western side. Along the western side of the Gibraltar headland reaching out into the Mediterranean there is an extremely dangerous shoal of rocks extending quite far into the bay making a seaward assault virtually impossible. Which is why we’ve kept it from the French and the Spaniards for years.’

  The ship’s bell rang out at that moment – eight bells – noon, and the end of Fury’s watch at last.

  ‘I have the deck, Mr Fury,’ Hoggarth told him, completing the formalities of confirming that he had now taken over as officer of the watch. ‘It should not be long now before we sight it,’ Hoggarth continued, ‘It is an impressive view to behold if you care to wait.’

  ‘Aye, I think I will Mr Hoggarth,’ Fury replied, ‘I’ll take a trip up to the masthead to get a better view.’

  It was true that the view aloft would be far better than down on deck, but the main reason was to avoid having to stand on deck in conversation with Hoggarth for a couple of hours or more. In addition, Fury had made his promise to himself that he would get aloft at least once every day to keep himself in shape, and he had not yet done so today.

  Quickly ducking down the companion ladder to the upper deck and then down once more to the gun deck, he turned aft and made his way to his flimsy cabin, picking up his uncle’s telescope from atop his sea chest and hurrying back up to the focsle. Stuffing the telescope into his waistband he climbed over the bulwark into the channels and began to haul himself up the starboard foremast shrouds.

  It was surprising the difference a few days made, he reflected, as he reached the foretop and continued upwards. He was still breathing quite hard due to the exertion but his chest was not nearly as tight and he was no longer struggling for breath. A minute later and he was sitting on the topgallant yard, sweeping the horizon to his left with the telescope, trying to catch a glimpse of the coast of southern Spain.

  It was an excellent glass, stronger than the standard ships’ telescopes, and the distant coastline showed up as a low grey smudge separating sea and sky. He tried to bring up a mental picture of the Amazon’s charts of this area. If his memory served him correctly it would not be long before they entered the narrowest part of the strait. At that point it would be easy enough to see both the Spanish coast to the north and the Barbary Coast to the south on a clear day like today. Not long after that and they would have their first sighting of Gibraltar, so that by nightfall they should be anchored safely. After that, who knows what will happen …

  Chapter Four

  Fury could clearly see the jutting tower of rock through his glass, falling down almost vertically to the ground, which stretched forward to end at Europa Point. He scanned to the south-east but could not see the Jebel Musa at Ceuta on the north-eastern tip of Africa. The Jebel Musa and the Rock of Gibraltar together were said to form the mythical Pillars of Hercules.

  Giving up, he concentrated on their approach to Gibraltar, sweeping the glass back northward. The Amazon, with Thetis following astern, was just weathering Cabreta Point and Fury watched as it slowly crept by, hearing the faint orders on the deck below which turned the Amazon north-eastward to sweep into the bay along the eastern side, before she would finally be in a position to anchor up at the New Mole.

  ‘Deck there!’

  The shout from the nearby foremast lookout startled him.

  ‘Deck here!’ came the shout back, from Hoggarth by the sound of it.

  ‘Ships at anchor in the bay sir!’ the lookout continued, pausing slightly as he counted. ‘Five sir, and all line-of-battle ships by the looks of ’em!’

  Fury swung his glass round quickly, the ships leaping into view clearly now that they had weathered the point. Definitely line-of-battle ships, that much was obvious even from this distance with their massive hulls and double row of gun ports. It looked like they were anchored off the New Mole.

  He had a sudden apprehension that they were the enemy – maybe Gibraltar had fallen, taken by surprise at the onset of war. He looked carefully but could not quite distinguish flags at this distance, although his fears were quelled somewhat by the look of the ships – they certainly did not look French, even to his inexperienced eye.

  The Amazon had completed her turn now and was slowly coming into the bay, Douglas having taken in her courses so that they were under topsails only at the moment. A glance back at Thetis showed that Carlisle had followed suit. It was not long before Fury could distinguish the flag flying from each of the ships, the Union Jack. One of them – the biggest – a massive three-decker lying with her bow pointing out into the bay, was also flying a red ensign at the fore masthead; the ship was carrying a vice admiral of the Red no less!

  Snapping his telescope shut he began to climb down, his legs and buttocks stiff and aching from two hours sat on the yard. It was unlikely that they could see the flag from the deck because one of the other ships was swinging to her anchor in front of the three-decker, blocking their view somewhat. Reaching the focsle, he made his way back along the gangway to the quarterdeck where Douglas and Hoggarth were standing over by the larboard bulwark, telescopes to their eyes.

  ‘The big three-decker is flying a red ensign at her fore masthead sir,’ he volunteered.

  ‘Is she indeed!’ Douglas exclaimed. ‘Mr Turner!’ he shouted, turning to the signal midshipman standing by the signal halliards. ‘Hoist our number. Mr Fury, please inform the gunner and ask him to kindly make his preparations for the salute.’

  ‘Aye aye sir,’ Fury acknowledged, making his way below to inform Mr Tapsell, the gunner.

  The man looked flustered when Fury told him, his puffy red cheeks turning even more scarlet as he rushed around to get everything ready, calling for his mates all the while.

  By the time Fury reached the deck once again the Amazon was well into the bay along the eastern side, a man now standing in the fore chains with a line tied around his chest securing him to the foremast shrouds as he heaved the lead, calling out the depths to Douglas and Hoggarth standing by the wheel.

  Midshipman Turner was standing with his glass to his eye, no doubt keeping it trained on the flagship to watch for any signals.

  ‘No signal yet Mr Turner?’ Douglas asked impatiently.

  ‘No sir, nothing,’ Turner replied, glass still to his eye.

  Douglas was nervous, that much was obvious by his question. If there was any signal, Turner would inform him immediately and Douglas knew it. Still, Fury could not blame the man, coming in to anchor under the eye of a strange admiral with no instructions received as to where he should anchor.

  A glance forward confirmed that the best bower anchor had been freed from the cat tackle and fish tackle which held it in place against the ship’s side, and was now hanging vertically from the cathead by a single rope, the stopper. The cable had been led through a hawse hole and reattached to the anchor some hours ago, while a suitable length was now laying in lines along the upper deck, the inboard end secured to the bitts.

  Fury took a quick look around the deck where every man was at his station, ready to furl the sails and drop the anchor as soon as the command was given. One thing was certain: Douglas could not have asked for a better crew with which to come in and anchor, even if it was slightly short-handed. The casualties suffered during the battle with Thetis, and then the necessity of sending men aboard as part of t
he prize crew, had reduced Amazon’s number to around 140 men from an initial compliment of 240.

  On and on they glided, the sea much smoother now that they had entered the shelter of the bay. The five battleships were clearly visibly about a mile ahead, and there was still no signal to acknowledge their arrival.

  A quick word to the helmsman from Douglas sent the Amazon turning slightly to starboard so they could anchor in front of the larger battleships but slightly further inshore, taking advantage of the fact that the Amazon would draw only about seventeen feet compared with the larger ships’ draught of around thirty-four feet.

  ‘Mr Fury!’ Douglas shouted, ‘You may begin the salute.’

  ‘Aye aye sir,’ Fury acknowledged, bounding down the companion ladder to the upper deck where the gunner was waiting with his crews to begin the Amazon’s salute to the unknown admiral. ‘Very well Mr Tapsell, you may begin the salute.’

  The gunner acknowledged the order, turning round to the first gun.

  ‘Fire one!’

  The first gun boomed out as Fury made his way back up to the quarterdeck, the others following at five-second intervals so that after just one minute and five seconds, the thirteen-gun salute had been completed.

  Seconds later Fury nearly jumped in surprise as the first deep boom of the flagship’s reply resonated around the bay, eleven guns in all. Once that was completed a quick look from Douglas sent Fury calling down to Tapsell to begin the salute to the fort and garrison of Gibraltar.

  Those guns, and the fort’s reply, largely went unnoticed by Fury as he concentrated on looking forward once more where he could see that only a quarter of a mile separated them now from the first ship, with the big three-decker just behind her. A few moments later and another curt order from Douglas to the helmsman sent the wheel spinning, the Amazon’s bow quickly turning to larboard into the wind, her way through the water diminishing as the wind tried to push her back. Finally, her forward momentum all gone, she stopped. The anchor was dropped without incident as the sheets were let fly and the topsails furled.

  Fury looked across to starboard where the line of battleships was anchored side on, the nearest about half a cable’s length to the north, but further away from the shore. He could make out the names emblazoned across the stern of the first two ships. The first, a two-decker, was the Agamemnon, while the large flagship beyond her was the Victory. Over to larboard, Thetis could be seen slowly coming to her anchor about a cable’s length away from the Amazon, Carlisle doing a good job with only his small prize crew on board.

  He caught sight of Midshipman Turner suddenly lowering his telescope and begin flicking through the pages of his signal book. Fury looked across at Victory to see a Union flag breaking out at the mizzen topmast head followed by their own number. He could guess what the signal was right away, his guess confirmed a moment later when Turner made his report to Douglas.

  ‘The flagship’s signalling sir. Captain to repair on board.’

  ‘Very well, acknowledge it Mr Turner,’ Douglas replied, turning round to Fury. ‘Have the launch hoisted out please, Mr Fury.’

  ‘Aye aye sir,’ Fury replied, but Douglas was already hurrying down to his cabin below to make himself presentable and to collect his reports.

  Fury had just finished supervising the men hoisting out the launch from its booms over the waist, using the yard tackles and fore and mainmast pendant tackles, by the time Douglas returned on deck. The launch’s crew were all waiting to go down into her, newly dressed in their best rig.

  ‘Mr Fury, you will be in command until I return,’ Douglas said formally as he made his way over to the entry port, a canvas bag under his arm containing all the Amazon’s reports for over a year.

  ‘Thank you sir, and good luck.’

  Fury waited patiently as Douglas made his descent down the Amazon’s side into the waiting boat, using the battens fixed to the outside of the hull. Fury watched him until his head had disappeared below the level of the deck before he turned away to make himself busy, unable to wait quietly to see what news the first lieutenant brought back.

  It was nearly two hours before Douglas returned. Fury heard the shout as the boat approached from below decks as he completed a check of the Amazon’s hull with the carpenter, Mr Stubbs. By the time the boat had hooked on, he was back on the quarterdeck, nervously waiting to see what news Douglas would bring. Was his acting rank to be withdrawn? Douglas arrived on deck at last and returned Fury’s salute.

  ‘Anything to report, Mr Fury?’

  ‘Mr Stubbs is just finishing his check of the hull, sir. Nothing too serious, but we may need a spell in the dockyard to get to some of the shot holes properly.’

  ‘Very good. No doubt Amazon’s new captain will see to that.’

  ‘I see, sir.’ Fury had known Amazon would be getting a new captain with the death of his uncle, but even so the thought of it was still upsetting to him. He was not looking forward to seeing another man at Barber’s desk. ‘Everything went well with the admiral I take it, sir?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Mr Fury. Admiral Lord Hood has requested an interview with you immediately, so you had better make yourself presentable.’

  ‘With me, sir?’ Fury was shocked. What on earth could the admiral want with him? Perhaps he wanted to inform Fury himself that he was being reduced back to midshipman. No, Douglas would do that, surely. Most likely he wished to offer his condolences over the death of his uncle. He may even have known Barber personally.

  ‘Yes, with you, Mr Fury. You had better shake a leg, you do not want to keep him waiting.’

  ‘Aye sir.’

  ‘And make sure you have all your certificates and journals with you.’

  ‘Aye aye sir.’

  Fury was even more worried now after Douglas’ last request, but he resisted the urge to ask why the admiral wished to see his journals with no small effort. He merely saluted and made his way below to get himself ready.

  Fury sat stiffly and self-consciously in the stern sheets of the Amazon’s launch as they rowed past the stern of the first ship, the Agamemnon, curious faces looking down on them from her bulwarks as they passed.

  ‘Put your backs into it,’ he growled at the oarsmen, more to relieve his own anxiety than because he was unhappy with their progress.

  They were approaching the flagship now, towering above them with Fury deliberately refraining from looking up as they neared, knowing too well that her sides would also probably be full of staring faces.

  ‘Boat ahoy!’

  The shout came from above, no doubt from the Victory’s quarterdeck. He glanced across at Gibbins, Captain Barber’s coxswain, and gave him a slight nod.

  ‘Aye aye!’ Gibbins shouted back, signalling that the boat had an officer on board.

  Fury’s attention was diverted as the boat was hooked on to the Victory’s side, rising and dropping slightly against her stationary hull. He collected the canvas bag containing his certificates and journals and straightened his sword, making sure it would not trip him as he clambered out of the boat. A small pause while he waited for the right moment, and then he was on the Victory’s side, climbing up her tumblehome using the battens provided. He passed closed gun ports on either side of him before he reached the open entry port located in the Victory’s side, reaching up with his hands to haul himself in, stepping on to the middle deck and instinctively straightening his sword once more as an officer waited patiently in front of him.

  ‘Acting Lieutenant Fury of His Majesty’s frigate Amazon, reporting on board sir.’

  The officer was wearing the uniform of a captain with more than three years’ seniority – probably the flag captain.

  ‘I am Captain Knight. Welcome on board, Mr Fury.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘If you would care to follow me then, Lieutenant, His Lordship will see you immediately.’

  Fury followed as Knight led the way aft along the middle deck to a ladder leading to the deck above, Fury gla
ncing aft to where the officers’ cabins and wardroom were. Reaching the upper deck, Knight turned aft once more, leading Fury over to larboard, past a saluting sentry and through a doorway. Further aft now and through another doorway which, judging by the carpeted floor and long table contained within, was the admiral’s dining cabin stretching the whole width of the ship.

  Fury was feeling particularly nervous now, the soft quiet tread of his shoes underfoot on the thick carpet heightening his tension. One more door awaited, Knight this time pausing and knocking before entering and leading Fury through to the admiral’s day cabin, the huge sloping stern windows behind overlooking Gibraltar.

  Vice Admiral Lord Hood was sat behind his desk as they entered, looking up as Captain Knight introduced him.

  ‘Acting Lieutenant Fury, My Lord, of the Amazon.’

  ‘Thank you Captain Knight,’ Hood said, transferring his gaze over to Fury.

  Knight silently made his way to a chair next to Hood’s desk and lowered himself into it. Fury shifted his feet awkwardly at the silence as Hood studied him for a moment. He had only been in the navy a relatively short time, but even Fury was aware of the reputation of the man, one of England’s greatest admirals. He fitted his description perfectly; the large beaked nose, the dark bushy eyebrows and the grey hair, combed forward to hide a receding hairline. His mouth was narrow and there were veins showing across the bridge of his nose and his cheeks, perhaps a sign that Hood enjoyed his liquor.

  ‘Please take a seat, Mr Fury,’ he said at last, motioning to a chair opposite his desk which Fury sank into gratefully, fearful lest his legs would give way. ‘My condolences at the death of Captain Barber,’ Hood continued. ‘He was a credit to the service.’

  ‘Thank you, My Lord.’ Had Hood summoned him to the flagship merely to pass on his commiserations at his uncle’s death?

  ‘I have interviewed Lieutenant Douglas this morning,’ Hood continued, ‘as I am sure you are aware. He has informed me of your excellent conduct during the Amazon’s voyage to India. He speaks very highly of you.’