To rid himself of the troublesome investigator, the captain dispatched the gendarme to the site of the recent raid. By this time, a rather complete description of Dooley had been pieced together and several townspeople in the last raid site identified him.
With depositions by several leading officials of the town, several Gendarmerie officials, senior to the captain, were now convinced there was substance to these allegations and the hunt was on, again.
Dooley himself had been warned before his escape that his presence in France was becoming unwelcome. He decided to use this opportunity to rest and vacation in Britain.
Mullins himself, when able to leave the ship, found on the beach waiting, his wife Dora and son Alfred. She had no idea he had returned and was merely visiting an old friend living here. Sarah Flowers had been a maid of the Mullin’s until she married a former officer on a previous ship. Her husband being absent, Doris was invited to stay with her in the Flower’s home.
Knowledgeable these days concerning the Royal Navy, Sarah asked a junior officer she saw in the market about the two liners she had seen entering the harbor. Doris had already told her Captain Mullins now commanded Centaur, a liner of the third-rate. Learning that one of the ships was Centaur, she hurried home to give the news to her friend.
It was a long wait for Doris and the boy. She hired a boatman to take a note to the ship and inform the captain just who was waiting her on shore. Unfortunately, the boatman merely handed the note to a hand over the ship’s side, engaged in touching up the paintwork. This seaman dutifully gave the note to the midshipman overseeing the work. Midshipman Hornsby, a fifteen-year old, thrust the note into his breeches. Later, in the gunroom, the note fell to the deck, where it was retrieved by another mid and used as a spill to light lamps. Long after it had been consumed, Hornsby remembered the note, but, unable to locate it, decided to not mention it to anyone.
Doris and Alfred had a long wait, but eventually, the captain’s gig came to the pier and Mullins saw his family. All tensions between himself and his wife had disappeared and Alfred was ecstatic, demanding to be taken to the ship immediately. Unfortunately, Mullins had an appointment to see an official on-shore, but took his wife and son with him.
He was able to secure permission to leave his ship in the hands of his first officer for a week and travel to London to spend time with his family. There, he spent much of that time with his wife and son. Doris delighted in attending balls and the theater. Mullins did not himself especially care for either of these entertainments, but was willing to accede to her wishes in an effort to please her.
Despite the hurtful things she had done to him, he realized she was not the only one at fault. His long absences had put a serious strain on their marriage. He resolved to do what he could to make her happy.
He had a delightful time with his boy. Alfred remembered some of the activities father and son had engaged in on previous visits home. On a brief visit to his father’s estate, Mullins purchased a small cart and pony, and hired a youth to drive it to their London home. There was room for both in their small stable and Alfred was delighted with the new addition. With just room enough for Mullins to sit with his son on the box, he could give him his first lessons on driving. Of course, the lad could not drive in the city by himself at his age, but a long excursion on a fine day would take them to the country, where Alfred could control the pony.
Mullins was beginning to spend more time thinking about retiring from the Navy and becoming a full-time father. However, Wellington was beginning to make inroads in Spain, and Mullins fantasized the war might soon be over. Then, he could leave the Navy in good conscious and be a better father and husband.
To please little Alfred, they journeyed to his father’s estate where father and son could ramble, fish and splash in the pond. Mullins had developed a close bond with the boy and it was a painful time for him when the orders to report back to the Admiralty.
The visit was explained to be merely for consultation, but once there it seemed HMS Centaur was to be detached from Portsmouth and would now be at the disposal of the Admiralty for various secretive missions. No details were forthcoming at the initial meeting, but he was told to hold himself in readiness to receive sailing orders.
He did post down to Portsmouth to inspect Centaur and to bring her up to the Nore anchorage at the mouth of the Thames. Mister Hoover had done an excellent job of supervising the various repairs to the ship. The helm, smashed in the recent battle, had been replaced and it was difficult to see any sign of the previous damage. No sooner had he reported aboard when he learned new orders had arrived from London.
At the Nore, a Marine major from Admiralty headquarters, boarded Centaur with the orders. Mullins invited him to his quarters where they might go over the documents before sailing.
Major Witherspoon pulled from his case a rolled chart of the North Sea. From this, he found an island in the Frisian chain along the northern coast of Europe. “Sir, the indicated island is Dutch territory, but under control of Bonaparte. I am told you were picked for this mission because of your previous experience in forays on shore against enemy batteries and fortifications. This island, like your last mission, has an abandoned battery on its shores. Imperial France has found itself strained to meet its military requirements and has withdrawn the garrison for service elsewhere. To our knowledge, the only inhabitants remaining are a small number of fishermen, operating from the cove which the old battery formerly protected.”
“I should tell you that I commanded a party of Marines who visited the island last year to determine its suitability for this venture.”
“Your orders specify that you are to sail to the island which you will reconnoiter and determine suitability. If you too find it acceptable for our use, Marines will be landed who will take and hold the island. It should be occupied and its battery replaced by British guns and personnel. Another vessel is being prepared to sail which will rendezvous with you at the island. You will give the commander of that vessel the results of your reconnaissance and your recommendations.”
Mullins thought over the information the major had given him. “Do I understand I will take no extra force to the island on this voyage?”
Witherspoon replied, “That was not thought necessary. The French seem to have deserted the island, leaving it open for us to occupy at our leisure. The Royal Navy is hard-pressed now, finding ships and men to handle all the myriad of tasks that must be done. It was thought unnecessary to tie up numbers of ships and men for a venture that may never take place.
“I am told, however, that sufficient numbers of Royal Marines and Artillery are now presently training that may be used for this mission, should it go ahead.”
A question in his mind bothered Mullins, so he asked Witherspoon while he was still present. “Major, just what use will the island be put to after it is taken and occupied?”
The Marine replied, “We know there is a great deal of enemy trade taking place along this coast. Once we occupy the port, it can be used as a base for action against this shipping.”
A reasonable enough idea, but Mullins was privately dubious over these visits to the island in question. He suspected the French had already been alerted after Major Witherspoon’s previous visit to the island. Probably, when Centaur reached it this time, enemy forces would be found in quantity, repairing the old battery.
Just to clarify the matter, he said, “So, I gather I am to investigate the situation, report my findings to the ship that will rendezvous with me near the island, then I am to return to port?”
“Oh no, my good sir. That would be a complete waste of resources. If the island is still empty, you should use what of your own forces you deem suitable and occupy the site. The enemy took the guns with them when they left, so you will need to land some of your own guns to defend the island, until replacements arrive.”
Mullins was horrified at the entire plan. It sounded like a recipe for disaster to him. He could visualize a fleet of lin
e-of-battle ships appearing as he was sending his own guns ashore. He determined then he must be very alert for any such maneuvers and be ready to cut and run at the first warning. Witherspoon would not be accompanying them on this mission, but the reliable Captain Hollister would. The normal complement of Marines assigned would have to suffice.
Chapter Fifteen
HMS Centaur set out again, alone as before. Mullins knew very well the mission had been put together by civilian members of the Admiralty, with no experience of military planning. However, he had his orders, and would do his best to carry them out.
They went up the Channel, following the European coast northward. Eventually, they reached the string of islands running up the coast, called the Frisians. Numerous fishing boats were encountered, but no warships were seen. Most of the fishing boats scattered, some making for port, where Mullins knew very well Centaur’s presence would be made known to the French authorities.
Upon reaching the designated island, they cautiously sailed around it, a leadsman in the chains steadily calling out the depths in these shallows. A channel was marked on their chart, which led to the only harbor on the island. The port seemed to be intended for small fishing craft, not a lumbering ship-of-the-line. There were some small buildings erected at the head of the cove, and a dozen boats drawn up on shore.
Mullins elected to stay out at sea until he knew for certain what awaited him ashore. The Marines and a party of seamen were dropped into the boats, where they would make their way about the island, remaining close to shore and recording anything out of the ordinary.
When they returned some hours later, they reported nothing of note save their approach to a fishing boat in the process of pulling his nets. Intent on their work, the men in the boat did not see them until they were quite close. The fishermen did not react, and Lieutenant Wilson attempted to question them. They could not understand his English, or his halting French, so in the end he left them in peace, presenting them with the flask of saved grog he had confiscated from his bowman.
Having learned there was nothing to fear on the island, the landing party was told-off that night and set out for shore early the next morning. They made for the beach at the head of the cove, where the local fishing boats were drawn up.
The locals were at first alarmed when the Marines came ashore, but Mullins had given strict instructions about treating these people properly. When Mullins stepped on to the beach, an elder slowly approached, accompanied by a pair of burly men who could have been his sons. When the old man addressed Mullins, he could not understand a word of the strange tongue, but instead replied with a short talk about how glad he was to visit their beautiful island. When he finished his speech to the uncomprehending elder, he reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of best French brandy and presented it to the man. Following this, he presented to the others a pound each of Navy twist tobacco.
In turn, Mullins was invited into one of the huts and given a mug of rough, red wine, which he consumed with deliberate satisfaction. After a few more unintelligible speeches were delivered, all decided they were good friends and Mullins and his men went on their way.
Captain Hollister had found the site of the original French battery. It was on the summit of a high dune that delivered a decent field of fire. The original guns were gone, but some heavy timber platforms remained, placed directly on the sand. Remnants of the old defenses were scattered about. These were merely bags of sand, the fabric now rotting and falling apart.
Apparently lacking the normal stone foundations, the French gunners had their gun carriages installed on this framework. The old magazine was found in the rear of the position, now fallen in and a few rusty round shot were littered on the ground.
The Marine officer wondered when they were to begin bringing ships’ guns ashore. Mullins replied, “Not for a bit, Captain Hollister. Certainly, we could deny access to the cove with a few twelve-pounders mounted here and Centaur moored in the cove. However, what if a strong force would land on the other side of the island and march across to hit us from the rear?”
“For now, we will keep a close watch on the island with all of our guns aboard ship. If transports do reach us in time with guns and men, we will indeed set up this battery, perhaps with others about the island. For now, we will just wait.”
For a week, Centaur lay moored in the tiny harbor, with no signs of either friend or foe. At last, tired of the inaction, they sailed out of the harbor and began a leisurely cruise about the island. From the northern side, they saw in the distance another island, so Mullins decided to examine that one, also. Two days had passed before they went back to their harbor and there found a sleek little corvette flying the tricolor and firing off a gun. Centaur had just rounded the point and had not been sighted just yet.
With the wind behind him, Mullins knew he had this fellow in a perfect trap. The corvette was pinned in this harbor and his paltry guns were of no importance to Centaur. With ship’s crew frantically clearing for action, the liner sailed directly toward the interloper, guns run out. Mullins was watching through his glass when the enemy captain was warned he had a visitor. The fellow dropped his speaking trumpet to the deck and looked about for a means of escape.
One of the forward eighteens was fired directly before the enemy cutwater, so close that water from the impact splash came aboard the little ship.
Seeing men running to the corvettes’ guns, Mullins warned his first lieutenant to be ready to fire. Then, the problem was resolved. A deckhand aboard the enemy ship had slashed the halyard to the colors, and the tricolor fluttered to the deck. Before the enraged captain could decide upon his next move, Centaur crashed alongside, sending half the corvettes’ men to the deck from the impact.
Seamen and Marines from Centaur swarmed aboard and in minutes the corvette was theirs, with no casualties to either side, and no damage to either ship save for a few sprung planks on the corvette.
Briefly, Mullins considered landing some of the corvettes’ guns ashore to arm the battery, but decided against it. His Marines had enough work on their hands, trying to control over a hundred angry enemy seamen, without compelling them to move heavy guns across the beach.
He would instead send the prize out to see if she could find the overdue reinforcements. A week passed in the little cove, with periodic patrols out to sea, while waiting for relief.
Mullins had reasoned if he could catch that corvette unawares in a trap, an enemy force might do the same for him. Whenever Centaur was in port, he sent boats out to sea. to watch for surprises. Eventually, one of those boats spotted the approaching fleet and signaled the warning to Centaur. She slipped her cables and made her way out to sea at once, leaving a working party of seamen and Marines stranded on the island.
The alarm was unnecessary though, since it was the relief squadron, a pair of frigates and HMS Charon escorting the transports. The troops being carried were a few companies of foot and a detachment from the Royal Artillery, with their guns and equipment. The debarkation began almost immediately, as soon as Mullins assured the force commander that no enemy had been seen since the corvette had been captured.
The ships had not encountered the prize corvette and had come here directly from the Nore, with no notion of the recent action. Mullins, as senior officer present, took command of the escort and sent the frigates to patrol around the island, while Centaur and Charon would cover the port.
Charon was a gun brig, similar to the Vixen that had accompanied Centaur on a previous mission. Most of her armament was in the form of thirty-two pounder carronades, but she did have a few nine-pounder long guns for longer range work.
Work ashore commenced rapidly and the guns of the Royal Artillery were landed and hauled by brute force through the beach sand and gravel to the old French platforms on the sand dune.
The professional Army gunners soon had their weapons installed and ready to use, although it was necessary to construct a proper magazine.
Charon escorted
one of the empty transports southward to a forested cape her captain knew of and a working party harvested a quantity of timber, which would be loaded onto the transport as deck cargo and used to build shelters to augment the tents the troops ashore were now using.
Returning from that mission, the brig was sent to cruise at sea, especially watching over the neighboring islands to determine if the enemy was aware of their presence.
A problem with supply was beginning to surface. The recently-arrived transports had not brought sufficient provisions for the number of troops delivered. Mullins was forced to issue rations from his own ship’s supplies, and these could not be expected to last forever.
Deciding the island was now as secure as he could make it, he detached two of the transports along with Charon with instructions to attempt to secure provisions and request adequate means of obtaining future necessities.
Mullins was quite certain this operation had been planned by lower-echelon people who had not the experience needed for such complex work. If better coordination could not be implemented, he was prepared to pull the troops from the island and sail back home. There would not be space for the guns and equipment, which would have to be abandoned.
Doubtless, this would mean the loss of his command, and probably his future naval career, but he was not prepared to sacrifice hundreds of men because of the inability of some government officials to do their jobs.
With the passage of time, he spent much of his days on shore, going over the decreasing amounts of food stocks available. One of the junior officers alerted him to some unusual activities of the island’s resident fishermen.
Noticing numbers of the fishing fleet preparing to sail, Mister Jamison wondered where they were going. He had noted only small amounts of fish were coming ashore in recent days, and he was concerned the fishermen might be returning to the mainland, where the authorities might be notified of the activities on this offshore island.
HMS Centaur: A Charles Mullins novel, Sea Command 8 Page 10
