Flashman and the Seawolf

by Robert Brightwell

  “Thomas Flashman Sir, I am here with dispatches for the Governor.”

  “Well keep your voice down and follow me.” He led the way across the room and then through a small door hidden in the panelling and then up two flights of a narrow spiral staircase. Eventually we emerged in a small attic room and he quietly locked the door behind us.

  “Dammit, in my lifetime I have had the ignominy of having to personally surrender to both George Washington and Napoleon Bonaparte, but neither were as persistent as Mrs bloody Harris. What is the point of having armed sentries when you can’t have unwelcome guests shot, what?”

  “Are you the Governor sir?” I asked hesitantly

  “General Charles O’Hara at your service sir” he replied “Governor of this fine bastion, ready to repel all invaders apart from that frightful harridan patrolling the floors below us.”

  His eyes twinkled in a well worn face as he looked at me. He was sixty then and he had indeed surrendered to George Washington at Yorktown as Cornwallis had been too ill and he had also surrendered to Napoleon in Toulon when the young Captain Bonaparte had first come to attention commanding the artillery in the siege of the city. Following that encounter O’Hara had spent two years in a Paris gaol threatened with the guillotine. He was there in the Luxembourg prison in Paris during the height of the terror. While he was one of the few to leave with his head still on his shoulders his health had suffered ever since.

  He sat at the small desk in the room and gestured me to the chair opposite

  “So young man what dispatches do you have for me?” I reached into my jacket and passed across the letter addressed to him and sat quietly while he read it.

  “So you are from Castlereagh are you, well you are some distance from his Irish office domain now, but I see that Wickham is involved too. Sound man Wickham. So you want to land in Spain do you?”

  “Just to land a dispatch to an agent sir, I am not planning on stopping.”

  “Be sure you don’t and be especially sure you do not fall in the hands of the French. Their hospitality is worse than a Brighton guesthouse and the haircuts they offer a mite too close for my liking if you get my drift.”

  “I will be steering well clear of France sir and I speak Spanish, I just need someone to row me ashore for a couple of hours”

  “Aye well the French have got agents in Spain too. They have to as the Spanish could not organise an orgy in a brothel. But you are in luck as the very man to take you is in port at the moment.”

  He picked up a telescope from the drawer of his desk and walked across to the window that gave a view of the bay.

  “Yes the Speedy in still there, although Christ knows what he is doing to her now.” He walked across to the fireplace and yanked on a bell pull and then sat back down. “Lord Cochrane is the man for you sir in any matter requiring cunning and skulduggery, the chap is a virtual pirate. The previous commander of the Speedy captured nothing in three years, on Cochrane’s first mission he comes home with a flotilla of ships he had taken from the enemy.”

  The door opened and a young man walked in.

  “Ah Taylor” said O’Hara, “would you go down to the harbour, find the Speedy and give Captain Cochrane my compliments and tell him I would be obliged if he would wait for a passenger that I will send along presently.”

  To me he added “I will need to give you some written orders for Cochrane to cover this assignment as he seems to have antagonised his naval superiors despite their share of his prize money he earns for ‘em.”

  The young man turned to go but O’Hara called him back

  “Taylor has that bloody woman left yet?”

  Taylor smiled and replied “Yes sir, I told her that you had gone to inspect food stores in the harbour and that you would be away for the rest of the afternoon.”

  “Well done Taylor, well done indeed. Peace and tranquillity reigns once more in Government House.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking sir, what does the Harris woman want with you?”

  “She wants what all women want young Thomas” O’Hara said as he reached for a quill and pen and started writing.”Don’t fool yourself into thinking that is something that they get between the sheets – bigod no, that is just a tool to get what they really want, which is power and influence. Mrs Harris has set up some society rooms in town and wants my patronage to drink and game there so that the rest of local society follows. Well I won’t do it. Let me give you a word advice Flashman, never play cards and drink at the same time. I did, and in ’84 got so much into debt I had to leave the England and hide on the continent. Cornwallis lent me the money to clear my debts and return. He offered me a job in India too when he became Governor General but the heat here is bad enough in summer.”

  He finished writing and sprinkled fine sand over the letter to soak up the surplus ink from a pot on his desk. “Is your Spanish good?”

  “Reasonably good sir yes, my mother was Spanish, she taught me.”

  “Excellent, my mother was Portuguese, we are both mongrels then. Now take this to Cochrane and be sure to visit on your return to let me know how you succeeded.”

  Editors note.

  The following chapters will seem to many readers as scarcely credible or similar to incidents from novels featuring Hornblower or Jack Aubrey. However all incidents with the exception of the landing in Spain and Flashman’s personal conduct have been confirmed as historical fact. Cochrane was the real Hornblower or Aubrey and it is clear that both C S Forester and Patrick O’Brian, plus many other authors over the years have taken considerable inspiration from Cochrane’s exploits. While the landing in Spain has no historical record, many of the tactics used in that action such as the ‘bug pit’ were used by Cochrane when defending Fort Trinidad in the town of Rosas in 1808, so perhaps Cochrane tested them here.

  The cart was still waiting outside and took me down to the naval dockyard where I was directed to a berth that should have held the Speedy. But there had been a mistake, instead of a sharp looking naval brig there was a decrepit looking Danish coaster called the Clomer. Having learnt a little about ships from my time on the Indiaman and at Portsmouth I knew this boat was far too small to be a sloop. In fact she looked barely capable of a trip across the bay. I was just about to climb back on the cart when on deck strolled a tall ginger haired officer in what looked like a well worn Navy uniform, he was checking some supplies on deck against a list in his hand. As I stood hesitantly at the end of the gangplank he looked up and asked absently "Can I help you sir?"

  "Err yes, I am looking for the Sloop Speedy, could you direct me."

  "Aye, step forward down that gangplank and you are aboard her sir."

  "But it say's Clomer" I said pointing at the name painted on the side of the ship.

  The stranger stopped what he was doing and turned with a smile to give me his full attention. "Tell me sir, does this boat look in any way like a Royal Navy sloop?"

  I looked across the quay to where a couple of naval ships lay moored. Both had broad cream stripes along their sides interspersed by black gun ports, the white ensign flying from their mast heads. On the closest one I could see that the desks were holystoned white, the rigging was all squared away so that all the yards were tidy and hanging exactly perpendicular to the masts with sails evenly furled along their length. In contrast the Clomer's sides looked like black slabs, with no stripe or marked gun ports. There were uneven folds of sails along the yards with one of them hanging at a distinct angle to the mast. It was also much smaller than a naval sloop, or even the smaller class of naval brig. If it was a Royal Navy craft it was the smallest in the harbour. The armament seemed in scale with the ship, instead of big naval cannons, the only guns mounted behind the hidden gun ports I could see were little bigger than the big duck hunting gun that my father's gamekeeper mounted on his skiff to use on the lake at home

  The only ship shape thing visible on the Clomer was the deck. As I looked down on it I could see it was clean and all
the coiled ropes were stowed away tidily for quick use. The stranger watched with some amusement as I looked carefully at his ship and the neighbouring naval vessels

  "In truth sir" I replied "it looks very little like a naval vessel, just the decks look tidy the rest looks quite neglected."

  Bearing in mind some naval officers had fought duels over insults to their ship, the stranger seemed quite delighted at my criticism.

  "Excellent sir, Excellent, for that is quite the intention. Step aboard His Majesty’s Ship Speedy currently disguised as a rotten old trading scow from Denmark." He bowed theatrically, "Cochrane her gallant commander at your service sir."

  "It is a pleasure to meet your lordship" I replied.

  "Oh please drop the 'Lordship', call me Thomas. I take it you are the gentlemen that O'Hara sent me the note about, Flashman wasn't it?"

  "Yes… Thomas, I'm Thomas Flashman.”

  “Ah, too many Thomas’s, it will cause confusion, call me Cochrane and I will call you Flashman. Is that your dunnage?” asked Cochrane spotting the canvas sack that held my possessions. “Excellent, glad you did not bring too much, as you can see space here is somewhat limited. I take it this is your first time on a Navy ship?” Without waiting for an answer he continued “well you have done better than me. When I joined my first ship as a midshipman I had a sea chest almost as big as me, which was too large to fit down the hatch. So the first lieutenant had it sawn in half!” Cochrane laughed at the memory. He exuded energy and enthusiasm, already he was bounding towards a small hatch in the deck calling “follow me sir and I will show you to your quarters.” He led the way down to the smallest cabins I had yet seen. The deck was no more than five feet high between the beams and as low as four feet under the beams so that constant crouching was required. For someone of Cochrane’s height he was almost bent double. I was shown to a cabin made of canvas screens that was already dominated by one large cot suspended from the ceiling but Cochrane assured me that there was room for another. I was to share with his younger brother Archibald, or Archie, who was my age and one of the midshipmen. Already I was feeling claustrophobic and asked if we could go back on deck. Cochrane just laughed and said “the space does take some getting used to” as he led the way back to the sunlight.

  “I need to get to Estepona.” I said as we got back onto the upper deck. “Will the Speedy be able to get me there?”

  “That is only 30 miles up the coast. Don’t worry Flashman, the Clomer is much more seaworthy than she looks.”

  “Why have you disguised your ship?” I asked.

  “Ah well, you always have to look for ways of turning disadvantages into advantages” said Cochrane leaning back against the rail. “When I first saw the Speedy, well let’s say I was just as unimpressed as you. She is the smallest Royal Navy warship I had ever seen with a pathetic armament of four pounder guns. Do you know I can comfortably walk around this deck with the output of both broadsides in my pocket. We tried bigger guns and they damn near shook the boat apart. Despite her name she was slow and ungainly too. In short there were a lot of disadvantages.”

  Cochrane smiled wryly. “But if I did not think she looked like a warship then there was every chance that enemies would dismiss her too. That was an advantage. We increased her speed by replacing her main yard with one we sort of borrowed from a captured ship of the line in the dockyard so that in light winds we could make good speed. We can spot a nice fat coaster at dusk and be between it and shore by dawn, giving it nowhere to go. The guns might be small but the crews are good and accurate. Since May we have captured nearly 20 ships, which has given us a tidy sum in prize money.”

  “So why the disguise?” I asked again.

  “Because now whenever an enemy ship sees the big mainsail of the Speedy they head straight for the nearest port. Our reputation precedes us.” He caught the eye of a big blond seaman that had just come up on deck and winked at him. “So now we look at the disadvantage of having a big thick Danish bosun that no one can understand and we turn it to an advantage by disguising ourselves as a Danish coaster.”

  “Vitch ve name efter my dog” added the blond seaman smiling.

  “Meet Eriksson our bosun and Danish master should the wrong people come visiting” said Cochrane.

  Now these days if someone suggested I put to sea in a boat that looked as though it would find the Serpentine lake in the park a challenge and bunk down in a glorified rabbit hutch, well I would damn their eyes and storm back to the Governor for something looking more substantial and reliable. But then I was just 18 and still reeling from the recent changes in my life. In the last few months I had left school, left home, tried to fend for myself in London, been nearly killed, killed someone myself and now I was effectively on the run. Looking back I was probably desperately in need of some stability and a sense of belonging. It is the only explanation I can think of for why I spent the next two nights before we sailed sleeping on board that ridiculously small craft rather than decamping to more comfortable lodgings ashore. But by doing so I discovered that the strength of the Speedy lay not in its guns or speed, but in its amazing crew.

  While there is lots of talk of jolly Jack Tars and Nelson’s love for his sailors, in reality the Royal Navy back then was a brutal institution. The Navy was ruled by fear, several ships and even fleets had mutinied in previous years and one of the recent changes had been to station the marine’s quarters on ships between those of sailors and officers to help protect the officers from their own crews. Life was easier in an Indiaman as I had witnessed in my short passage to Gibraltar with a calmer more professional approach by skilled sailors who had joined for the pay and not due to the press gang.

  But on the Speedy the atmosphere must have been unlike any other naval vessel. There was an easygoing respect between all officers and the crew who they knew by name. Despite being the commander’s brother, Archie was shown no favouritism and spent time learning a wide variety of skills from the sailors. I remember on the second afternoon he was learning how to patch a sail and managed to sew a stitch through his breeches as well. His brother was all for roving the sail to the yard breeches and all, but William Parker the only lieutenant pointed out that we were already in disgrace with the port commander for the disguised appearance of the ship. Leaving the harbour with a pair of breeches flapping from the middle of our topsail would guarantee we were never given a decent berth again.

  Two fifteen man prize crews had already been despatched with prizes back to their home base of Port Mahon in Minorca. The seventy men left as crew might have been packed in more tightly than in an African slaver but they were proud of their ship. Even on an Indiaman the crew were wary of talking to the passengers but here as I had little to do they would often stop and talk. Invariably they described how they had outwitted enemies and of the prizes they had captured. Often the stories centred on Cochrane’s cunning and ingenuity and they had a genuine affection for him. This was not least because due to prize money he was slowly making them rich, but they also recognized that he was sparing with their lives. Indeed not one crewman had been killed due to enemy action since he took command. On the Speedy there was never a flogging and rarely did the officers have to reprimand any of the crew.

  The air of confident professionalism that prevailed on the ship started me to thinking about my own skills and abilities. On my first night with the officers crouched round the wardroom table I had explained the events that had brought me to Gibraltar. Barrett the wardroom steward and chief gossip to the crew had ensured that everybody knew that ‘the young gennelman’ had already despatched an enemy agent. On the second day while on deck Guthrie, the surgeon, asked if I would be handy in a fight if, as was likely, the boarding of a prize featured in the forthcoming trip. I foolishly mentioned that I had taken some fencing lessons in London which caused Cochrane to look up with a smile. Cochrane ordered up a weapon’s chest and I was invited to demonstrate the positions I had learned. There were no delicate foils in the chest simila
r to those that I had been used to, just stouter cutlass type weapons and by now several of the crew were drawing near sensing that entertainment was in the offing.

  Cochrane introduced my performance to those watching by shouting “Now lads this is how a French fencing master teaches gentleman how to fight.”

  I picked up a cutlass which seemed devilishly heavy compared to a foil and adopted the first pose, shouting “position 1” and them moved on to two. By the time I had got to three there were howls of laughter from the crew and so I deliberately exaggerated the flouncing about for the remaining moves so that they laughed with me rather than at me.

  “Well” said Cochrane still smiling “I am sure that that would come in useful somewhere. Eriksson perhaps you could demonstrate some of your own fighting positions.”

  Eriksson and another crew member picked up cutlasses and pistols and faced each other. Eriksson shouted “position one” and rushed at his opponent sweeping his sword away with a strong diagonal cut and still pressing in pretended to knee his opponent in the testicles. His opponent pretended to fold in agony whereupon Eriksson feigned to bring the sword hilt down on the back of his head. Position two involved pulling out the pistol and shooting the opponent just beyond the swords reach and Position 3 comprised throwing the empty pistol at an opponent’s face and then pretending to skewer the opponent when they instinctively deflected it. In short, nothing Monsieur Giscard would have approved of, but tactics much more likely to keep me alive in a pitched battle on a crowded deck.

  Afterwards Cochrane sent Eriksson and me off to a quiet area behind some warehouses where we could practice some moves without mockery from the crew. Eriksson swapped the horsepistol I still had as my only weapon with a brace of pistols from the weapons chest and we also spent some time shooting bottles so that I could get used to them. He advised that around twelve feet was the maximum effective range in the heat of battle. Having used them numerous times since, that is something I can confirm. In fact that afternoon with the giant Dane gave me skills that saved my life on numerous occasions to come.