Both seconds took pistols and carried them to their respective duellists, who were now walking to the centre of the field to meet with the master of ceremonies. As the non combatants gathered together in the centre of the field to watch, the master explained that starting back to back, each duellist would take ten paces and then turn. They could fire when the master dropped his handkerchief. The master took several paces back out of the firing line, pulling a big white handkerchief out of his pocket. He gave the order to start pacing and both men with tense pale faces set off. It all happened so quickly, in a few seconds the allotted distance was reached. Both men turned side on to their opponent and raised their weapon, the handkerchief dropped.
Both men fired instantly and despite the large puffs of smoke emitting from each barrel it was immediately apparent that both men had been hit. I watched in horror as Cochrane staggered back and fell clutching his chest while the Frenchman had a leg buckle underneath him and also fell to the ground. How could this have happened after all my hard work?
Both sets of supporters ran to their respective duellist, Cochrane was tearing at his clothes to see his chest but by the time we reached him he was laughing in relief
“Damnest thing, I felt the ball hit me in the chest but the ball does not seem to have got through my clothes.”
“Oh thank God” cries Archie who threw himself at his brother, hugging him tightly. Guthrie and Parker both looked at me but Cochrane pushing Archie away was looking at the Frenchman, who now had their surgeon leaning over him.
“I must see to the Count” said Cochrane pulling himself to his feet and starting towards the prostrate figure. When we reached him the Count was wincing in pain as the surgeon probed in a wound on his thigh.
“How are you wounded sir?” asked Cochrane looking concerned.
“It is just a flesh wound” responded the surgeon. “The ball seems to have broken up as there is just a piece of it in his leg.”
“God be praised” cries Cochrane now full of energy and life. “Now honour is served sir, I would apologise for striking you, I should have anticipated that my costume could cause confusion.” So having just risked his life to avoid giving an apology, Cochrane now freely gave one, although now at least his opponent could not demand he be whipped under the Code Duello.
The wounded Frenchman however ignored the apology and asked “’ow are you milord, you clutched your chest?”
“Oh I am fine” breezed Cochrane, the ball was stopped by my clothes.”
The Frenchman’s eyes narrowed in suspicion “What trickery ees this? One ball breaks up and another ees stopped just by clothes. This ees not right.” Everyone stopped talking. Glancing around I became uncomfortably aware that in this ugly moment, everyone was looking at me. Well attack is the best form of defence and I knew just who my target would be.
“I agree,” I said loudly so all could hear. ”There must have been trickery. Your man checked the balls were sound but he insisted on using his own powder in the guns. I checked our powder last night” I lied. “It blew a hole in a barn door at twenty paces. His powder,“ I pointed at the astonished Gaston, “does not seem capable of blowing a hole in a waistcoat at the same distance.”
“But...but...” gasped Gaston searching for the right words in English.
I did not give him the chance to say more by reaching down to pick up the Count’s pistol. Waving it at Gaston I added “perhaps it was you that wanted to protect his officer. Perhaps you thought that mixing soot and ash with the powder would weaken the charge and make both appear to miss. We both checked the balls but only you checked the powder.”
With that I strode away with dignity, well at least until I had to pick up my little table and pistol case and resume my salesman appearance. As I left them I heard the wounded Frenchman ask Gaston what he had done. Gaston was insisting that the powder was good and offering to burn some there, but it was too late. The English party was now making its way triumphantly from the field, some with their suspicions of French duplicity confirmed. Cochrane and Archie went on ahead talking loudly together about the astonishing turn of events but Guthrie and Parker fell in alongside me. For a moment no one spoke and then Parker hesitantly asked “Flashman, those pistol balls, I saw you show him one set but I noticed you loaded from another set. Was the powder really bad?”
I grinned. “Bearing in mind your obligations as a second under the code and of your honour as a gentleman, are you really sure you want me to answer that question?”
“No.” Parker smiled. “On reflection I think ignorance would be best. Here, let me help you and carry your little table.”
Editors Note: The duel really did happen as described and both Cochrane and historians have been puzzled at the lack of serious injury when both participants were shot by their opponent. Flashman’s account solves this mystery. I have not been able to find other accounts of such hollow balls being used in duels but if there were flaws or bubbles in the lead when the ball was cast it could break up on firing and so detection of this sharp practice would be difficult.
~~~~~~
Chapter 14
We set sail from Malta a few days after the duel incident and I for one was pleased to see the island fall astern. I had been harbouring the fear that the much maligned Lieutenant Gaston would be seeking satisfaction from me over the claims I had made of his gunpowder but all parties seemed keen to forget about the incident. Cochrane thanked me for my help at the duel and if he had any inkling of what I had really done he showed no sign of it.
The weather was warmer now, it was late April 1801. Life was good. We captured a small ship off the coast of North Africa with a cargo of exceptionally good wine, we met local fisherman and bought fresh fish. One of the crew even managed to catch a huge tuna fish, which was big enough to feed the entire crew for one night. We often spent our evenings sitting under the stars around the cooking pot sharing tales and our thoughts of the future. For the other officers their futures were set at the mercy of the Lords of the Admiralty. If they were lucky and diligent then they should progress up the ladder. Cochrane was all too aware though that he did not have many friends in the Admiralty. He had been court martialled less than two years ago for insubordination to a pompous first lieutenant in an Admiral’s flagship. The court had cleared him but the Admiral had admonished his behaviour and sent a report to the Admiralty and to the First Sea Lord, Lord St Vincent who was a stickler for discipline.
He had captured more ships in the Mediterranean than anyone else over the last 12 months but they had been mostly small ships that had given up without a fight. He had no patron to promote his achievements among senior officers. I remember on one night he said wistfully that he would have to do something really spectacular so that they could not ignore him. I really should have paid more attention to that comment for if I had known the sort of thing he had in mind, I would have abandoned ship at the first opportunity!
For my part I knew that my time with the Speedy must soon come to an end, but while I was enjoying myself with some of the truest friends I had ever known it was hard to tear myself away. The fact that I was not eating into my savings but earning money from our prizes and my honorary midshipman’s pay was a bonus. Archie tried to persuade me to sign up to become an official midshipman like him and join the Navy properly but I knew enough about the service to know that the life could be brutal in other ships and with other captains.
We headed off back to our old hunting ground off the Spanish coast and were soon doing what we did best, taking prizes. When we did come across an enemy ship, all Spanish, the sight of the Speedy and its legendary devil captain Cochrane was enough to ensure a rapid surrender, with the only shooting being the shot across the bows. Three ships were taken in that manner with prize crews put about to take them back to Port Mahon. The crew of the Speedy had thus depleted to 54, just over half of the original complement of 90 men. One more prize declared Cochrane and we would head back to base to count our prize gold.
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br /> The morning of the 6th of May 1801 dawned like many others we had experienced on that Spanish coast. We were then off Barcelona and the previous day we had given chase to a couple of small Spanish gunboats that had put into the city’s port. We had stayed in the vicinity hoping to find a prize when the usual early morning mist cleared. We were all on deck that morning. It was chilly without the sun and I remember being wrapped up in a big boat cloak to keep out the chill. We had learned from long experience that with our size and speed this was our best chance of the day of getting close to a prize. Sound travelled far in the mist and so everyone knew to be as quiet as possible. On the hour we did not sound the normal ships bells but instead strained our ears for the sound of someone else’s. Cochrane paced the deck in his normal energetic manner. “There is something out there I can just sense it,” he whispered. “One more decent prize and then we head for home.”
A seaman came padding quietly from the front of the ship and whispered to Cochrane “Jarvis in the bows sir thinks he heard bells to the west.” In the opposite direction from the coast this would have to be a ship. Demonstrating the exceptional degree of trust between officers and men on the Speedy, Cochrane ordered to the course changed to be more westerly without a moment’s hesitation. He turned to Archie “Go up the mainmast Arch and tell the look out to be extra vigilant for any mast tops that might appear over the top of the mist to the west.” The tension began to build in the boat now and when the trailing edge of my boat cloak pulled over an empty bucket with a clatter, I got glares from crewman and officers alike.
When the summer sun burns off sea mist on that coast, it does it quickly. For hours from dawn you shiver in a thick damp mist and then the heat of the sun must build up to a critical point where it burns the mist off in just a few short minutes. That is what happened on that morning. First Archie came speeding down the rigging to report that there were three mast heads to the west. He was not certain but he thought they looked more like a warship than a merchant. As he was reporting this news we began to notice that the sun was burning down through the mist which was splitting into tendrils. Whatever it was it would soon be revealed, and if it was a warship we would be revealed to it
“Three masts” whispers Parker to Cochrane. “That is going to be a sizeable ship, should we beat to quarters?”
“Yes but do it quietly and don’t run the guns out yet.” Many of the crew were within earshot when the order was given and immediately the deck sprang into action. While there was no drumming or shouting, the noise that broke out compared to the previous silence was tremendous. Down below on the gun deck there was a tremendous clatter as partitions were broken down and the decks cleared. The wheels on the gun trucks squealed as they were unlashed and pulled back from their gun port to load ready for running out. The powder boys were running frantically to and fro from the magazine with powder charges and other gun crew were gathering shot, wadding and priming boxes. The gun ports had to be opened briefly to give room to use the rammer to push the charges home down the barrel but were then closed again.
As I stood redundant on the deck with nothing to do but keep out of the way, I had a bad feeling about what that ship could be. Since I had been on the Speedy the Spanish had sent two frigates looking for us, could this be another? The gun boats we had seen the day before had also acted strangely. They had not been escorting anything and instead of disappearing at the first sight of us, they had waited until we started to chase them and then stayed just out of range all the way to Barcelona. It was as though they were acting like decoys to get us here. Now here we were here exactly as they seemed to want, with a mystery ship bearing down on us. It is easy to be clever in hindsight but long before we saw it I was sure that the mystery ship would not turn out to be a fat, full toothless merchant ship. What I could not have predicted in a million years were the insane events that would follow.
Cochrane with his telescope to his eye was straining to get the first glimpse of the owner of the three masts but a hole appeared in the mist revealing it to everyone on deck at the same time. To our North West, heading in exactly the opposite direction to us was a huge Spanish frigate.
“The Gamo, 32 guns,” Cochrane announced calmly. The ship was huge. It was four times the size of the Speedy, our mast heads would have barely been above their poop deck. I turned to Cochrane “I hope to God that you have a trick up your sleeve to get us out of this.”
“Oh I have, but you won’t like it.” Cochrane smiled and then looked up at the weather vane. The wind was coming from the south, meaning that to escape in that direction we would be sailing close into the wind and making little progress. The frigate had a big lateen rig on its stern mast, which would doubtless be better than our mizzen sail at sailing into the wind. With its longer range guns it could blow us out of the water without us being able to touch her.
“We need to get to the other side of her” Cochrane said half to himself. However it did not look like the Gamo was going to give us the chance. Her crew would all have heard about the Speedy and her devilish captain Lord Cochrane who had a trick for every occasion. They may even have been on a mission specifically to find us. A few hundred yards before we were about to pass, at a distance well out of the range of our guns but well within the range of theirs, their gun ports were flung open. 16 big guns rolled out of their port side facing us and the big Spanish battle ensign flag broke from their stern, fluttering over the sea behind them. A gun boomed putting a shot across our bows.
Their intention was clear, heave to or be blown out of the water. Cochrane was however ready, having spoken to the ship’s boy with his well used flag locker, the flag of the United States ran swiftly up the mast.
“Come on lads cheer and wave at the gallant allies of the United States like the good little Yankees you are. Bring up the men from the gun deck too. They haven’t got the range so they may as well be on deck to add to the confusion.” Within seconds the deck was fully of capering seaman cheering and waving at the Spanish ship. Cochrane conscious that every officer with a telescope on the enemy’s quarterdeck would have it trained on him, reached into his coat pocket and took out a letter which he unfolded. He walked to the rail and keeping his cocked hat over his distinctive red hair he waved the letter at the Spanish ship in one hand and pointed to it with the other as though it was some important declaration that he expected the Spanish to know about.
“What is that?” I asked walking over to him and waving my own hat in the air at the Frigate.
“It is a letter from my uncle Alexander but to them it could be anything.” The Frigate was directly opposite us and if they were going to fire it would be now. I stared at the 16 black dots pointing out of the gun ports expecting to see them flash with flame and death. They stayed black dots and even without a telescope you could see men arguing and debating our identity on their high poop deck and the flash of telescopes as they studied us. Their certainty that we were the Speedy had been replaced by doubt. While they must have known Cochrane used false flags the United States was friendly to the French and Spanish alliance and there would be repercussions if they attacked an American ship. They must also have wondered what paper the American captain was waiving at them. At a time when news was carried on horseback, those on the front lines were often the last to hear the news. Had America declared war on the English or had France made peace with the English, including their Spanish Allies? They had to make a decision, to fire or not. Then just as things hung in the balance they saw that the little ship was changing course so that it would sail close to their stern. It was inconceivable that such a tiny ship would attack them. It must be so that they could shout the news in the mystery document and so the Spanish held their fire. If it was Cochrane, whatever trick he tried they were confident that they had the speed and firepower to turn the Speedy into matchwood.
On the deck of the Speedy, Cochrane was explaining the same facts to his crew but with a remarkably different conclusion. “We can’t outrun them and f
rom range we can’t out gun them. We are so small compared to them that the last thing they will expect is for us to attack, but that is what we are going to do.” For a second I thought I had misheard. Did he say ‘attack’ when we had fifty four men and they must have over three hundred, men and marines aboard. (319 as it turned out later.) We would be outnumbered more than six to one assuming we weren’t blown apart before we could reach them. I must have been gaping with astonishment and I wasn’t the only one.
Cochrane talked calmly and confidently as though he were proposing a summer walk. He ignored the stunned looks amongst his audience and continued. “Listen lads you know as well as I do that the Spanish do not hold up well in a fight. We must have captured at least thirty of their ships now and not one has shown serious resistance. We fought their army too and they fled and let us escape. The Spanish are rotten, their officers too proud to fight and the men are not willing to die just for the glory of their officers. We have them off balance now as they do not know who we are. We are going to keep them off balance. When we go past their stern, we’ll put up the battle ensign and give them a broadside down the length of their ship. They won’t be expecting that and then we’ll pull in tight on their leeward side. The wind will help us angle our guns to fire up through their decks at close range. Look how high their guns are, they will not be able to aim down at our decks.”
Flashman and the Seawolf Page 14
