Well after midnight that night, all was quiet and most of the villagers were home in their beds. One of the villages’ larger boats had tied up to the Indiamen shortly before her recapture. This boat was one of the few not destroyed by British gunfire. Every possible redcoat was packed aboard the craft armed with his Brown Bess musket and bayonet with two days’ rations. With Omar serving as a guide, the boat set out to exit the bay, turning back to land only when out of sight and hearing of the villagers. Landing on the beach, well away from the village, the party set out on foot through the barren landscape toward the back side of the town.
When the stone building that was the refuge for bin Mohammed was reached, the troops surrounded it and attacked immediately. A timber helping to hold up the roof of a nearby building was appropriated and used as a battering ram to knock in the door of the structure. Bin Mohammed attempted to defend himself with a curved sword, but fell with a pair of British bayonets piercing his body. All the towns’ inhabitants were gathered and examined carefully. Seven slaves of various European nationalities were discovered and sent aboard the Indiaman for future repatriation. The remainder of the villagers were set free after being warned of the consequences of future bad behavior.
Omar, who had given invaluable assistance in the recovery of the prisoners and the capture of bin Mohammed, proposed he take charge as the new emir. After Mullins gave his blessing, Omar then asked for an exorbitant payment be awarded to himself to guarantee contracts to supply cattle and corn to the British in Spain.
After Mullin’s indignant refusal and counter-offer to instead recognize another villager as emir, Omar hurriedly agreed to forgo any reward. He would, of course, get his payment by collecting a percentage of the payment for the supplies delivered in the future, but that was not Mullins concern.
Among the passengers rescued on the taking of the Indiaman, were two dozen seamen. These men had been destined to go to the Mediterranean Fleet to replace losses there. Mister Hoover, upon looking them over, begged his captain to surreptitiously replace some of the more worthless hands with these people.
The problem was solved by sending the unwanted men to the Indiamen to serve as prize crew, while the released seamen passengers came to Centaur. It would be strange if upon entering Gibraltar, the unwanted seamen could not somehow be left behind.
There was plenty of controversy when the pair of ships came into Gibraltar Bay. Captain Harris, a crotchety old post captain, who served as an aide to Commander, Mediterranean Fleet, was livid that a Channel Fleet captain had been sent to sort out the trouble in North Africa. Captain Harris thought he could promise the acting governor that Captain Mullins would face the displeasure of the commander, possibly being dismissed the service.
The acting governor realized he would be throwing oil on the fire if he sent Mullins on to the Med, so he ordered him back to the Brest blockade. In the excitement, no mention was made of returning those seamen taken aboard Centaur from the Indiaman and she sailed with a much more satisfactory deck force than when she arrived originally.
HMS Centaur spent many succeeding months ceaselessly patrolling the waters offshore of Brest harbor, only reaching farther out to sea when troublesome weather came. During these months, constant practice brought the entire crew to a high state of training.
Chapter Ten
As the other members of the Brest blockading fleet had been out much longer than Centaur, all were given priority to return to Plymouth to resupply. Mullins was glad when it finally became their turn to return home.
As they obeyed the signal from the flag allowing the ship to depart, Mullins was discussing the supply situation with the purser. Mister Boyes assured him the ship still had plenty of water in the lower tiers, but that was becoming increasingly unpleasant and the men were complaining. Mullins had to drink the same water and was familiar with the fluid.
Too, the salt pork in the more recent casks that had been opened was also becoming unpleasant. This food had been sent to the ship before he had taken command. After he gained the command, somehow the state of the ships’ provisions was never inspected. It was prudent to take on water and food while there was opportunity, rather than wait until an actual emergency.
That night, a storm out of the east brewed up, and Mister Hoover thought it wise to ride it out under storm canvas. A few months ago, with the raw seamen at the time, Mullins thought they might have been in trouble, but today the hands and officers handled the weather like the professionals that they were. Scudding before the wind, in low visibility with blowing rain, the masthead lookouts were down, but lookouts were posted on deck to watch out for any dangers that might appear.
Wearing his heavy cloak, Mullins was standing behind the helm, discussing with the officer of the watch whether it might not be worthwhile to shake out some reefs. As they discussed the matter, the forward lookout coughed and reported hesitantly that there might be ships ahead.
As Mullins and the deck officer strained their own eyes, the lookout reported more confidently there were two ships ahead, one of them a two decker. The watch below was called and some reefs were freed in the tops. As the ship surged forward in the driving rain, Mullins himself saw some ships. Centaur seemed to be in the middle of a convoy, presumable one that had used this weather as an aid to escape Brest.
All thoughts of a visit home vanished and hands began thinking of prize money. By now, several big transports had been sighted briefly and there was debate concerning the valuables that might be aboard the ships. Mullins could not imagine what might fill the hulls of the five big transports that had been seen this far.
On this course, it was possible the convoy was bound for the old French sugar islands in the Caribbean. Of course, these islands had long ago been taken by British forces, but Mullins thought perhaps these transports might be full of soldiers, being sent to regain control of one or more of the islands.
Night came and the storm intensified for a time, but by morning it began to clear. As the morning sun rose, the convoy was revealed to have spread out for miles. A two decker in the distance and a corvette closer in, were seen to be busily occupied with gathering the flock.
Soon, the corvette was seen to begin signaling, she had doubtless identified the strange line-of-battle ship in the convoy. The two decker, apparently a seventy-four, began to answer the corvettes’ signals and put about to approach her enemy. Soon, both seventy-four and the corvette were seen flying the tricolor.
There would be a delay for the enemy battleship to work her way upwind to meet Centaur, so Mullins decided to use the time to see what could be done about that transport sailing to leeward. The corvette would be left until later, since he doubted she would allow him to close sufficiently to cause her harm.
The transport to leeward had apparently not realized the ship to windward was an enemy. Only when Centaur fired off a pair of twenty-four pounders, did her crew awaken. A flurry of men on her decks brought her to, and for a moment it appeared the transport was going to challenge the big liner.
Her master had some sense though, and her tricolor was brought down in surrender. Confusion on her deck still remained and blue-uniformed men by the hundred were seen pouring up from below and lining the rails. At long musket shot range, these men presented their firelocks and loosed a volley.
Caught by surprise, Mullins took no action for a moment, until he noticed two of his men were down from those long-range musket balls. Angered, he ordered his great guns to fire into the transport. His own men, seeing their shipmates lying on deck covered in gore, gladly obliged.
Those guns did devastating damage on the helpless transport, while a single officer on her quarterdeck waved his white shirt until he too fell.
Only when the transport ran her flag up again, then lowered it, did Centaur cease fire. By then, the transport was a wreck, with both her main and mizzen masts down, and great holes smashed in her beam.
It was too late to take possession, as the enemy battleship was coming u
p fast. The corvette, answering signals, came around herself and followed the enemy third-rate toward Centaur. At long range, the French battleship came to and fired off her port battery. Most of the shot went into the sea, with only a few coming aboard. Centaur continued toward the enemy, until Mullins decided she was about ready to fire again. Still closing the enemy on her port beam, Mullins sent off his own broadside.
Closer now, more of these balls struck, causing important damage. With her fore-top yard smashed, the enemy’s speed was promptly slowed and Centaur coursed ahead. Turning to starboard, she was now athwart the enemy hawse, and her starboard broadside erupted. In a perfect raking positon, every shot was free to range the length of the enemy hull, smashing everything they contacted.
The enemy liner was in desperate condition, but her consort was coming up rapidly on Centaur’s quarter. If the corvette could deliver accurate fire at that sensitive area, perhaps the battleship could recover. Unfortunately, the corvettes own eight-pounder guns were too small and the thirty-two pounder carronades on Centaur’s quarterdeck too much for the fragile corvette. Four of the massive balls struck the little ship solidly, at or near the waterline, causing damage she had never been designed to withstand.
Taking on water rapidly and unable to escape, the corvette was the first to strike. The liner was initially able to get her bows around enough to deliver some fire to her tormenter, but it was not enough. Another solid broadside from Centaur sealed her fate and the enemy battleship followed the example of her consort and also struck.
Centaur had solidly defeated three enemy ships but Mullins knew it was unlikely he could get a single one to a home port. The first ship, the transport, was in sinking condition, filled with angry soldiers. Just possibly, some good men from Centaur could patch her enough to make port, but it would be too dangerous to board that ship with all of those furious soldats.
The corvette, Mullins believed, was also a lost cause. With desperate damage both above and below the water, he doubted if she could make port. Even if she could, she would probably not bring enough at a prize auction to make it worth the trouble.
The captured battleship was perhaps a different story. Solidly built and fairly new, she might be saved, but it would take a prodigious amount of work, and supplies that were not available. There was a question of what to do with the survivors of the action. Most of the boats of the defeated ships had been shattered and those of Centaur would not hold all of the survivors.
Two frigates coming up from eastward provided the answer. Heavy forty-gun frigates flying the tricolor, they could be a serious problem to Centaur. While Mullins thought he could prevail against them, he decided he had won enough for the day. Putting his ship to the wind, he set off to sea. The enemy pursued for a short time until perhaps, compassion called them to assist their own vanquished seamen in the water.
With his ship’s water supply nearly exhausted, Mullins put into Plymouth where she took on needed supplies and had some of her hurts repaired. Then it was time to return to Portsmouth to give an accounting of their recent actions.
Months at sea had done its damage to the ship and it would be some weeks before she could sail again. Admiral Montague was in the flagship and received Mullins as soon as he came aboard.
Mullins recounted the difficulties that had occurred when many of Centaur’s previous crew was drafted away and replaced with raw landsmen, criminals, many of them.
The admiral agreed it was a waste such a well worked-up crew had been frittered away supplying small parties of men to other ships needing hands. He assured Mullins, this time, while Centaur was in the dockyard, he would place those people on an otherwise empty hulk, where they could be employed in maintaining that ship, as well as performing other needed repairs about the harbor until called back to Centaur again.
With his ships’ needs arranged, Mullins went on leave again, taking Mister Hoover with him in the coach to London. This would have to be a short visit with his family. He had learned to his cost that long absences from his command were not recommended. After some thought, he took along his pair of pistols. The presence of highwaymen always made it prudent to carry some sort of weapon on the trip.
Besides Mullins’ handguns, Mister Hoover brought a huge two-barreled fowling piece which he normally displayed in his little cabin. This weapon had already proved useful in actions with the enemy.
That night its worth was evidenced when the popping of the driver’s whip signaled a problem. Under the impetus of that lash, the horses were pulling the heavy coach down the rutted road at breakneck speed, the occupants of the coach being rattled around like so many peas in a box.
Peering through the window of the darkened coach, Mullins spotted a pair of horsemen racing up from behind on his side. Hoover revealed several riders were approaching on his side, also. Both men readied their weapons.
Mullins was now beginning to doubt the wisdom that had prompted him to believe the pistols were an adequate defense against mounted bandits. Although, he had, at the most, four shots to drive off or discourage an attack, getting that many hits with pistols from a jolting coach was a difficult thing to arrange. Even that big double eight-bore of Hoovers’ did not seem to be adequate protection, at the moment. One of the riders on his side of the coach came charging up to the window, brandishing a huge horse-pistol. When he shouted something unintelligible through the window, Mullins pulled back the cock of his right barrel and shot the fellow through his neck.
The bandit fell from his horse and the terrified animal fled away from the scene. While this was going on, Hoover loosed one of the barrels of his fowling piece at a target on his side. At the same time, one of the leaders of the team stumbled and fell.
A bandit had fired a pistol into the animal and it folded up and dropped, causing a tangled pile-up of horses, harness and coach. For a moment, Mullins thought the coach would overturn, but somehow it remained upright.
When the coach suddenly stopped, a pair of bandits, were forced to race on down the road for a bit until they got their horses under control. As they reined their mounts around, the driver of the coach was heard from. Still on his box, he blasted away with an old blunderbuss. He killed no one, but lamed one of the bandit’s horses. While its rider was trying to stay on the stricken animal, Hoover took deliberate aim and fired at the other rider. The large swan shot with which the gun was charged, spread badly, and the highwayman received several painful but minor wounds.
That one savagely yanked his mount’s head around and set his spurs deep into her flank. Hoover’s gun was now empty, and there was no time to load it again. Mullins still had three shots remaining in his weapons. The first shot from the left barrel of his pistol, fired from too great a distance, missed completely.
Dropping that gun, he pulled up its twin, cocking both locks. Aiming carefully for another shot, the powder in the pan flared, but for some reason the main charge failed to fire. The bandit was almost upon them, when Mullins fired again, now at point-blank range. The heavy lead ball struck the felon’s chest dead center and the impact knocked him from his horse, his old sea-service pistol discharging as he hit the earth.
Both Mullins and Hoover got out of the coach, standing there breathing heavily. Moments later, when the driver got down and stood beside them, they decided it might be wise to recharge their weapons.
Two of the six-horse team were badly hurt, screaming in pain, so it was necessary to put them down. Another pair had been injured during the pile-up, and while they would probably recover, they could not at this time pull the heavy coach. One of the wheelers seemed to be in good enough condition, so after it had cooled down a bit, the coachman got on its back and rode it slowly down the road toward the next posting station.
The men built a fire to warm themselves and plotted how to retrieve one of the bandit’s horses that was quietly grazing in the meadow, a hundred yards away. Whenever one of them tried to approach the animal though, it casually wandered away.
Two bodies lay in the dirt near the coach. Both were approached and the bandits’ weapons retrieved. When a coach and group of mounted men approached them, Mullins and Hoover were ready for anything. But these people were merely locals from the posting station sent by their own driver to assist them. The bodies of the dead highwaymen were strapped on the back of the coach, then Mullins and Hoover got inside. Driven back to the nearest village, they spent the night in a local cottage.
Next morning, both woke to the sound of a loud celebration outside. Some villagers had gone out last night and visited a nearby croft. From an old byre, they extracted a man with bloody wounds to arm and shoulder. Apparently, some of Hoover’s swan shot had connected after all. The driver identified him as one of the highwaymen, and he was secured under guard to await the magistrate.
Mullins and his party had to spend another day waiting for the magistrate to arrive. An inquest into the deaths of the two men was then held, and it was determined they had met their maker while in the process of attempting to rob a coach. The same jury that served on the inquest also did double duty for the trial of the wounded highwayman, held immediately after. Even as they were considering their verdict, another group of townspeople was erecting the gallows. Moments after the verdict was read, the stunned prisoner was being dragged out to meet his fate.
After this excitement, Hoover and Mullins remained a few days in the village, before boarding another coach to London. His arrival at home was anticlimactic. Doris had not heard of this last adventure and Mullins chose not to tell her. Intending to stay only a few days, he remained for a week, before deciding to return to the ship. Mister Hoover had already left, but this coach was full of men. Mullins told the other passengers of his recent experiences and every man had a weapon to hand, but none were needed. The coach rolled into Portsmouth with no adventures.
HMS Centaur: A Charles Mullins novel, Sea Command 8 Page 7
