Flashman and the Seawolf

by Robert Brightwell

  One thing that was not scarce though was luxury accommodation. Many of the knights had left behind them large palaces and some were still being maintained by their staff as guest houses. I exchanged my half share in a cupboard on the Speedy for a huge palatial bedroom with a four poster bed surrounded by ornate wall and ceiling frescoes. The canny housekeeper Signor Camperini had managed to hang on to most of the furnishings by letting it out to the French in the past. With the fellow guests I had use of a library, games room even a private chapel although the priest had gone and the only cross left was made of wood. The Palace had its own vegetable garden and had kept its cook so we had good meals each day too.

  For entertainment there was not a lot that the usual seaport could offer. The Knights of St John were required to make a vow of celibacy and as a result they did not marry but invariably they and their retinues took mistresses with enthusiasm. These circulated far more frequently than wives and as a result the girls on the island were rife with the pox. Indeed the French general defending Valetta during the siege had sent all the prostitutes out into the countryside as infection rates for his own forces were so high. Things must have been bad if a Frenchman sent the whores away. The other typical entertainment of sailors was gambling often with cock fights or bull and bear baiting. But in Valetta during the siege they had eaten every bull, donkey, cat, dog even the rats to stay alive and so this entertainment was lacking too. I did hear that one tavern had a bout between a rat and a squirrel, which attracted a large crowd of gamblers. The squirrel won if you are interested, which is surprising as I would have bet on the rat.

  So you would think in such benign surroundings, where even wine and ale were in short supply it would be difficult for Cochrane to put himself in a position where his life faced more mortal danger than any other point in his career. You would probably be even more surprised to learn that it was me who saved him.

  Being in the middle of the Mediterranean, Malta was also home to a huge range of different nationalities that had come to support the Knights of St John, for trade or as a refuge. These included North Africans, Spanish, Neapolitans, Russians, Greeks, Venetians and freed Turkish slaves. Another group was French émigrés from the revolution who were proud as peacocks and had arrived just after the British occupation, doubtless hearing that palaces could be bought cheaply One of these aristo’s had decided to hold a fancy dress ball in his new palace and invited the captains of all the naval ships in the harbour as guests. Now while Cochrane may have the cunning of a fox in battle, in social situations to be blunt, he has the wit of a weevil. Rejecting the idea of appearing like a wigged and powdered fop as most of the other guests were likely to do, he hit upon the less than cunning plan of going to the ball dressed as a common seaman. He doubtless raided the foc’sle for authentic kit and when he arrived at the ball with everyone else in bewigged finery, not surprisingly he was refused entry.

  His upbringing as the son of a penniless Scottish noble meant that he was always sensitive to sleights from other members of the aristocracy and this situation brought out the worst in him. He waved his invitation and demanded entry and when they told him that such costumes were not permitted he loudly accused the French royalists of slandering British sailors and insisted he could come in any costume he chose. The French officer who acted as master of ceremonies came to the door and reached for Cochrane’s collar in order to drag him out of the ante room. Cochrane replied with a powerful punch to the royalist’s nose and a stream of obscenities, spoken in French so he could be sure the royalist understood the insults. An angry melee ensued with Cochrane felling more guests with his fists until some burly guards came and dragged him away.

  When it was discovered that Cochrane was an officer and the son of an Earl as well, the French officer demanded satisfaction for his swollen nose. Cochrane still in a temper agreed to the duel, behind the castle ramparts at dawn the next morning. The first I knew of this was later that evening. After hearing about my palatial accommodation Archie had taken his own rooms in the same palace and we were playing chess in the library when Parker burst in with the news. Archie was appalled, but I thought there must be a way out of it.

  “Can’t he apologise” I asked

  “God no” cried Archie, “He has struck an officer, a verbal apology won’t serve, the Frenchie can demand to take a cane to Thomas and he would never submit to that. Anyway the challenge is accepted now and if he tries to get out of it he would be seen as a coward.”

  Duelling was, and as far as I know still is, governed by the Code Duello, a strict set of rules written in the last century governing how duels should be fought and in what form any apologies should be given. While duelling had been made illegal or was officially discouraged in the Navy and elsewhere it was accepted that gentleman would care more for their honour than the law on these occasions.

  The situation became worse when Parker told us that this particular French officer had killed a Maltese gentleman in a duel just the previous month. The two of them were wringing their hands in despair and looking upon Cochrane as though he was already dead. I saw instantly that I would have to take charge and as these two were so wrapped in honour I would have to keep things to myself. For the Flashman family are no strangers to duels and the rumours surrounding the death of my Uncle John showed that we were not all strict adherents to the Code Duello. Parker was already designated as Cochrane’s second in the duel, it was frowned upon to have a blood relative as your second and Parker was also the more senior officer to Archie. As the challenged party Cochrane had the choice of weapons and I told Parker that I would bring the pistols and be the loader. Parker must have sensed I was up to something for he warned “Their second will be watching you load Flashman and will soon spot any tricks. If it is not a fair fight it would be murder, you could be hanged.”

  “Don’t worry” I reassured him. “It will be a fair fight and their second can check all he wants.”

  The two of them left to go and comfort Cochrane in what they thought would be his final hours while I set to work.

  Uncle John Flashman had been challenged to a duel while I was a boy for sleeping with another man’s wife. Being a typical Flashman he viewed codes of honour more as guidelines and had no intention of dying in the encounter. He appointed a timid man who could easily be intimidated as the loader and then set about making a hollow pistol ball. The ball was made by bending a very thin sheet of lead around a wax ball, the wax was drained away, the drainage holes plugged with drops of lead and the pistol ball looked like any other. But when fired the thin lead shell shattered and the scraps of lead caused little damage. He intended for his opponent to have the hollow ball while he had a solid one and was doubtless planning how he could console the man’s widow.

  The flaw in Uncle John’s plan was that his loader was even more terrified of the deception being discovered and him being hung for murder, than he was of what my Uncle John could do to him. As a result he panicked at the last minute and loaded two solid balls and John was killed. The foiled plan was hushed up within the family but my father fired the hollow ball at a tree and confirmed that it would have worked. Given that it was midnight when Parker and Archie left, I had around six hours to find a set of duelling pistols and make two hollow pistol balls to fit them, in a strange city I did not know.

  My first stroke of luck was Signor Camperini, who I asked for help. There are many characters in history that have played small seemingly insignificant parts, but without them the world would be a very different place. One of those is Camperini who helped me save Cochrane’s life that night. Without him all of the subsequent achievements of Cochrane could have been lost. So if you are reading this in Chile raise a glass to Signor Camperini for your subsequent liberation from the Spanish with Cochrane’s help.

  I had an urgent need for some duelling pistols, and some thin sheets of lead all in the small hours of the morning. The duelling pistols were surprisingly easy as there was an excellent set in the palace that
Camperini was willing to loan for a guinea. When he found out who the protagonists were he said I could have it for nothing if Cochrane killed the Frenchman as the Maltese killed in the previous duel had been a friend of his. The pistols were beautiful, smooth bore with silver and gold inlay on black ebony wood. The barrels were finely engraved and the hammers seemed to be of silver. They were packed in a velvet lined walnut wood box and had all the usual accoutrements such as powder flask, bullet moulds, and cleaning tools. In the middle of the box between the two recesses for the pistols were two other recesses with lids that each contained four pistol balls.

  The lead sheeting was harder to get but Camperini sent off a boy to a local blacksmith with one of my dwindling supply of gold coins to buy some. Despite it being one o'clock in the morning, the blacksmith was sufficiently intrigued to bring it himself, which turned out to be fortunate.

  In case you are ever trapped into a duel and need to make some hollow pistol balls, I will explain how it is done. First you cut a lump of soft wax from the top of a candle and roll it into a ball. Try it in the bullet mould for size, there should be roughly a tenth of an inch gap between the wax and the mould. Next get your lead sheet and check it is no thicker than a tenth of an inch. This, it turns out, is rarely the case and so if yours is double that thickness it helps to have burley Maltese blacksmith on hand who can beat yours thinner. Cut the lead into small circles and using a wooden spoon handle, hammer the lead discs into both sides of the pistol ball mould. The mould is like a set of steel pliers with a ball shaped mould instead of pincers. Put the wax ball in one side to ensure that the ball retains its shape and then squeeze the two sides together. This is a lot easier said than done and again a burly Maltese blacksmith is handy here. By now we had decamped to the kitchen to avoid being seen by other guests and the blacksmith put the mould in the fire to soften the lead and make a smooth join, this also caused the wax to melt away. After a bit of touching up with molten lead and filing for a smooth finish, the first ball took us about an hour and a half. But we were getting the hang of it then and we made a further three balls in just two hours. The duelling pistol box then had four solid balls in the right recess and four of the hollow balls in the left one. Both Camperini and the blacksmith seemed to be under the impression that Cochrane would be getting a solid ball in his pistol and the Frenchman a hollow one. They chortled darkly in Maltese presumably about the imminent death of the Frenchman that had killed their friend. I did not have the heart to tell them that as the Frenchman had the first choice of weapons we would have to put a hollow ball in both.

  It was around two hours before dawn when we finished and I decided to take the pistols to the Speedy and join Cochrane’s party when they set off for the duel. Just as I was leaving Camperini came rushing up with a small folding table.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “You are loader, you must have table to do the loading on.” So looking like some travelling salesman with a pistol case under one arm and a small folding table under the other, I set off for the ship. It was a sombre and silent place when I got there, the crew that were still aboard had heard about the duel and despite the hour a number were on deck waiting to wish Cochrane luck when he set off. I was going to go below but Parker stepped out of the shadows and explained that Cochrane wanted to be alone.

  He looked at what I was carrying. “Are those the pistols?”

  “Yes a good set. I have borrowed them the Palace where I am staying, at no charge if Cochrane kills the Frenchman.”

  There was a silence as Parker mulled the alternative and then to confirm this train of thought he asked “are the barrels rifled?”

  “No, I thought that would be best especially if the Frenchie is a crack shot. What is his name by the way?”

  Parker thought for a moment and replied “I am not sure, it sounded like the Comte de Pimpleface but it surely cannot be that. Flashman, why in God’s name do you have a small folding table under your arm?”

  “The chap that runs the palace I am staying in assured me that loaders in duels must have a table to load on. I don’t know I have never done this before.”

  Conversation continued in this inane manner for some time. Archie and Guthrie the surgeon joined us and we discovered that none of us including Cochrane had been remotely involved in a duel before. As we chatted we kept glancing at the eastern sky and the increasing light that was appearing on the horizon.

  As the light started to spread across the sky we heard the hatch get thrown back and Cochrane appeared on deck. He hesitated when he saw us and then came over. His face seemed pale and strained and looking at Parker he said “There are some letters in my cabin if… if anything happens.” Then looking at the rest of us he forced a smile and said “Come on then, lets get on with it” With that he strode to the gangplank to lead the way with several of the crew shouting good luck to him as he went across. We made a strange group as we set off through the town to the ground behind the castle ramparts. Cochrane, tall and thin striding alone at our head, Parker, Guthrie and Archie just behind whispering to each other and Flashy the salesman bringing up the rear with his folding table and case of samples.

  When we arrived we found the French party already there. The Comte strode off to one end of the field when he saw us so that he would not have to be close to Cochrane. I did not understand French rank markings but from the braid on his uniform he seemed to be a middle ranking officer aged in his mid thirties, with a haughty proud bearing. His second approached us and introduced himself as Lieutenant Gaston and another more senior officer stepped forward who seemed to be acting as master of ceremonies. He formally asked both parties if they were determined to continue and received affirmative answers. Cochrane then set off to the opposite end of the field with Archie for company, leaving Parker as Cochrane’s second and the French Lieutenant Gaston to oversee the loading of the pistols by yours truly. Guthrie also loitered nearby.

  “Ah I see you ‘ave brought a leetle table, ‘ow quaint.” You take an instant dislike to some people and Gaston was one of those for me. He smirked as I set the table up in the middle of the field between the two protagonists. I thought even if a table is not the normal thing, having brought it I might as well use it. I put the pistol case on the table and opened the lid. Immediately Gaston stepped forward and picked up one of the pistols. He checked the flint and the hammer action and then he looked down the barrel.

  “Ah I see it ees not rifled. We ‘ave rifled pistols we could use.”

  “No thank you, these are the pistols we will be using” says I frostily.

  “I theenk you ‘ope the Major will miss with these smoothbore guns yes? Well I will watch the loading like... ‘ow you say... watch you like a falcon.”

  Well that was all I needed, I was already feeling nervous about what rested on me in the next few minutes. I had been hoping that the seconds would just chat among themselves and leave me to get on with it. But I had only picked up the powder flask before the Frenchman was on me again.

  “I want to inspect the powder.” He reached forward and I gave him the flask. He poured some powder onto his hand, rubbed it between his fingers, then smelt it and then daintily put out his tongue to taste it. Then he wrinkled his nose up and spat it out in disgust.

  “Thees powder is old, it is degraded it ees no good. You theenk with this old powder and old smooth bore pistols that you save your kapitan? Non, I inseest that we use our powder... and I theenk our powder measure too.”

  In truth I had not even looked at the powder until now, just shaken the flask to check that there was more than enough to load the two pistols. Both of the seconds were now looking at me reproachfully as though they had caught me out in trying some trick. Parker even murmured to me “I warned you Flashman.”

  Well if they thought they had caught me on one trick then maybe they would not look so hard for a second. So I tried to look a little crestfallen and grudgingly conceded that we could use their powder. A silver flask and po
wder measure was brought over. The French powder was very finely ground and black and even I could see that it was a vastly superior quality. I carefully poured out full measures and tipped them down both barrels. I could guess what was going to happen next and so I deliberately opened the right hand recess containing the solid balls. On cue the frog leaned forward.

  “Ah would like to check the balls” he reached down and took one from the recess, felt the weight of it in his hand and then held it against the end of one of the muzzles to check the tightness of the fit. For a horrible moment I thought he would drop it down the barrel and I would have to think of an excuse to get it back but to my relief he gave it back to me. Now I needed a distraction so that I could switch the opened recess to the one containing the hollow balls. I looked up at Guthrie in mute appeal and bless him he came through.

  “Have ye got your own surgeon here” he asked in his gruff voice and Gaston looked across and pointed out another gentleman huddled in a cloak a few yards away with some other French bystanders.

  It was all the time I needed to swop the two lids so that now the hollow balls were exposed. I reached down and picked one up but to my alarm I felt the lead shell give way against my fingertip, with Gaston now watching me again he would be bound to notice a gaping hole in the ball as it went into the pistol. Thinking fast I pretended to fumble the ball and it dropped into the grass at my feet out of view. I reached forward and even more gently took a second ball and dropped it into the muzzle of the first pistol. Using the ramrod I ensured that the ball was gently resting on the powder but clenching my jaw and giving a little grunt of exertion, I gave the impression that I was ramming it down hard. I then did the same with some wadding to stop the ball rolling out. Despite my apparent exertions, as far as I could tell the delicate hollow ball was still intact at the bottom of the barrel. I then did the same for the second pistol and having put a pinch of powder into the frizzen of each gun to catch the spark from the flint and carry it to the powder charge, they were ready to fire. I held the barrels of both guns so that the butts were pointing to Lieutenant Gaston for him to make his choice.