Deadly Shores (The Duty and Destiny Series, Book 11)

by Andrew Wareham

  “Flags! What is Stour reporting?”

  The assistant to the yeoman, a ship’s boy recently made up, was slowly reading the book, one finger tracing the words.

  “Sir! Small boats, leaving harbour. White flag.”

  “Well done. Are you the only survivor of the signals party?”

  “Yes sir. Splinters, sir, what grazed me a bit but ripped the midshipman and the yeoman to bits, sir. They bin put over the side, sir, acos of ‘ow they was messing up the deck, like, and the bits was getting in the way.”

  “And you stayed at your post, young man. Well done. I shall not forget you.”

  The boy was close to tears, talking having brought everything to the front of his mind; the midshipman’s guts across his bare feet would never be forgotten.

  There was no time to cosset the youngster.

  “Stay there for the while. Signal Perlen to report.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  Something to do made it easier to cope.

  Sir Iain wanted Perlen to supervise the activities of the small boats coming out of Barcelona, the port out of sight but within hearing distance of the action.

  “Mr Patey, where is the First Lieutenant?”

  Patey was busy on deck, organising working parties.

  “Me, sir. I am First now. Roundshot, sir, ripped both legs off and he bled to death. The master as well, sir.”

  “A nuisance, we could afford to lose one or the other, but not both. Not to worry, Mr Patey. A midshipman to signals as a first priority. Senior master’s mate to step up; will he better as Fourth or should he replace Mr Popper?”

  “Binks, sir? Better as master. I think it would be his choice, sir. The second master’s mate, Chappel, will do far better as a lieutenant, sir. Mr Cheek has his eye on a lower deck hand who will take his warrant as master’s mate, sir.”

  “Good. Let it be so. A full condition report within the hour. Gun crews especially to be made up as necessary. I expect to be in action again today. Prize crews must be made up from the sloops, I suspect, for we must have a fighting crew ready and available for action.”

  Patey blinked, not entirely fancying another action – this one had been hot, even though short. He ran to obey. He was First of an eighty-gun ship, before he had expected as well. A few months of success in the job and he might have his own small ship as a reward.

  “Signal, sir.”

  “Midshipman Quarles, is that you?”

  “Yes, sir. I am senior of the Gunroom now, sir. We lost three mids today, sir. Perlen, sir, reporting losses of one officer and eight men dead, fourteen variously wounded. Perlen also reports, sir, that she is ready for action. Perlen also reports Iris is under command of Mr Perlman, Captain Dench dead. Iris lost seventy dead, sir, to musketry, and another fifty wounded – figures not yet precise. Lieutenant McGregor has taken command of the frigate defeated by Iris. Lieutenant Vokes, wounded but ambulant – they spelled that alphabetically, sir – is sole commission officer of the wardroom. Written report to follow, sir.”

  “Perlen to challenge small boats from Barcelona.”

  The signal was sent and Perlen made sail, to hold the boats at a distance if they contained soldiers.

  “Gunboats to close Waldeman.”

  The flags were no sooner hauled down than Norge made her report.

  “Norge is fit for action, sir. Is the Commodore dead, sir?”

  “Waiting doctor’s report, Mr Quarles. I see you know the codebook, young man.”

  “I memorised it, sir. In case. When I was a captain’s servant, sir, for something to do.”

  “Well done! I will not forget your initiative.”

  Sir Iain went below, to the cockpit, to discover the doctor’s opinion of Sir Frederick, thinking the while of how best to organise the squadron for the coming fight, if it eventuated.

  “What’s the bill, doctor?”

  “Lost the premier, and the master, and three of midshipmen, sir, and two whole gun crews, sir, in the one broadside. Eighteen men, sir. Of wounded, the Commodore, sir, and thirty-two men who will not be walking this week. Lesser wounded, sir, forty with cuts and bruises. For the Commodore, I have taken his left arm above the elbow. He is bruised across the chest, but may well have suffered little internal injury, perhaps none at all. A lucky wound, in many ways, provided he survives the amputation. His people have taken him to his cabin, sir.”

  There was nothing to be done there; Sir Frederick was a friend, but there was much to be completed before he could go to him. Sir Iain returned to the deck, debating the best course for the next few hours.

  The gunboats were coming close, had tied alongside within minutes.

  “Well, Mr Sykes?”

  Sykes was scruffy, even for a midshipman – powder-stained, dressed in rags, stinking rankly of stale sweat.

  “Beg to report, sir, that upon observing two large merchant ships to be full of soldiers and firing upon Iris, sir, that I took Gunboats One, Two and Three to the bows of the pair, sir, and there opened fire upon them at a range of barely twenty yards, sir. The Gunboats, sir, possess no grape shot and it therefore seemed the wiser course to attempt to sink the soldiers.”

  “Both merchant ships are in fact sinking now, Mr Sykes, by the bows. You would seem to have been very successful with your command. You made by far the wisest decision, as my report will say, using your single great guns to their very best. I want your crews, Mr Sykes. We need the men. The squadron has no further use for the boats, and they would fetch nothing in prize money. You will go as acting-lieutenant to Iris, and, if I can persuade the Admiral at Gibraltar, you will be made permanent for your initiative. Crew of Gunboat One to go with you. Instruct Gunboat Two to go aboard Norge and Three to join you on Iris. Scuttle the boats as you join your ship, sir. You will be named in my despatch to the Admiralty.”

  Sykes left the cabin, feet hardly touching the ground.

  “Mr Aggers!”

  Frederick’s lieutenant came running.

  “I need your services, I am afraid, Mr Aggers. A report of the action, if you please, written now while all is fresh in our minds. You have notes of the action?”

  “Yes, sir. The Commodore’s Clerk went with him to the cockpit. I remained on deck, sir.”

  “That was your duty. Well done. Were any of Sir Frederick’s men hurt?”

  “Untouched, sir, and blaming themselves for having been in the wrong place and not stopping the splinter themselves.”

  “Inevitable. Bound to happen, in fact. We may well be in action later, so write all you can now, Mr Aggers.”

  Time… he needed time to put Waldeman and Norge back into full fighting order; he must have Iris back to work and available to follow Mr Vereker in Perlen. The sloops had the merchantmen and frigates and could take the three ships of the line under their wing. That was something to be done; he must send them a signal of congratulation, and quickly, before they decided they were being overlooked. He trotted on deck.

  “Mr Quarles, Nid Elven and Glommen, ‘Well done. Action in support of Iris in best tradition. Keep our prizes safe. Add three of the line and two frigates to your convoy.’”

  That should keep them sweet; he would name both captains in his despatch. He must tell Aggers to put them in.

  “Mr Patey! Is there any sign of Nellie?”

  “No, sir.”

  That gave them at least an hour in hand before they could expect to be in action. The information said not till late in the day, so they might have more than four hours yet, which would be ample to feed the men and reassign them so that all parts of the ship were properly served.

  “Perlen, sir. ‘Boats are unarmed, fishermen. Showing white flag. Request wounded to be taken ashore’.”

  There might be hundreds of wounded soldiers; getting rid of them would be an act of mercy, and would literally clear the decks for action.

  “Permission granted. Where is General Count of Banyuls?”

  There was a delay of ten minutes.
<
br />   “’Prisoner on Iris’, sir.”

  “Order him brought to Waldeman, Mr Quarles. In company with senior staff officers.”

  The Count of Banyuls was not a happy man. Had he reached Bonaparte, he was convinced, he would have come away King of Catalonia, an independent state to remain his own whatever was the result of the war. Now, defeated – because he had been let down by the sailors, not his own fault at all – he might well face a court, which would be biased against him, appointed by his enemies and determining a charge of treason. From king-in-waiting to traitor awaiting execution was a mighty come-down, and he was just realist enough to be certain of his own fate.

  He stood straight in front of Sir Iain; he had his pride, if nothing else.

  “Who has command of your army in your absence, Count?”

  “It has been joined to the French Army as a pair of divisions, Commodore.”

  “Was a message to reach your senior officers that they should join with the patriots resisting the French, my lord, then I have little doubt that I could recommend that you should be treated well, sir. It might be seen that the French had taken your forces from you and coerced you to declare for them as the sole way of avoiding the guillotine. If you took the first possible chance of declaring yourself a patriot, my lord, then I have no doubt that the need for allies would predominate in the minds of the British government.”

  Sir Iain was quite pleased with his inventions, and thought there was a chance that the Admiralty would back him. Two divisions denied to the French could not be other than desirable.

  “You are indeed, perceptive, Commodore! That is exactly the case! May I have access to pen and ink, sir?”

  Sir Iain turned to Aggers, still busily writing.

  “Would you assist the Count, Mr Aggers? He is to be an honoured guest, as you will appreciate. He will require a cabin and so will his staff, I fear.”

  The count had brought six hangers-on, no doubt thought so few to be a hardship.

  “May I ask what you will do next, sir?”

  “Your convoy was expecting to meet two French ships of the line, Count. It is my intention to discover them and ‘take, sink, burn or otherwise destroy them’, to use the Admiralty’s phraseology.”

  “You have taken severe casualties in this last fight, have you not?”

  “Few, sir, as such things go. We had an amount of luck, although, most unfortunately, our Commodore, Sir Frederick Harris, lies severely wounded in his cabin – hence his inability to greet you sir.”

  “Two ships of the line, and their accompanying, lesser vessels, can be no small task, sir.”

  “Smaller vessels, sir?”

  “I was given to understand that there were frigates to be stationed at Barcelona to protect the coast, sir.”

  That, Sir Iain thought, might be inconvenient.

  “Mr Aggers, please to look after the Count’s comfort, so far as may be possible with the ship cleared and the galley fire quenched.”

  Sir Iain went on deck, debating the best course of action in light of the new information.

  “Mr Quarles, to Nid Elven. “Captain Freeman to take command of the convoy and escort to Gibraltar, with all reasonable speed.”

  Quarles saw the flags raised and waited for acknowledgement of the order.

  “Stour to attach herself to convoy under command of Captain Freeman.”

  A delay for the message to be sent, allowing Sir Iain more time to think.

  “Iris to join pendant ship.”

  Waldeman was not strictly a flagship, having no admiral aboard. Admirals flew flags, Commodores displayed pendants to announce their glory.

  “Perlen to complete transfer ashore of all wounded and noncombatants, and to ensure remaining prisoners secure on prizes. Perlen then to join pendant ship.”

  With a little luck, Captain Vereker would stretch the definition of ‘noncombatant’ to its absolute limit. Prisoners would be a nuisance on the frigates and a menace on the prizes; better far to send them ashore, but such an action was not permitted without exchange, under Admiralty law. Therefore, the persons sent away must not be prisoners under the ordinary definition of the word. Captain Vereker had shown initiative in the past, could be expected to do so again.

  Sir Iain paced, deep in thought for nearly an hour until Iris took station two cables to the rear.

  “Officer in command to report, Mr Quarles.”

  “Iris replies that she has no boat, sir.”

  “Thank you, Mr Quarles. Mr Patey! A boat to Iris to pick up her captain.”

  Fifteen minutes and the side-party piped Mr Perlman aboard.

  “Welcome aboard, sir. Now, what is your condition?”

  Sir Iain led Mr Perlman to his cabin, finding a bottle and glasses set out; in the absence of a fire in the galley, more was impossible.

  “Myself and one lieutenant, sir, Mr Vokes, a very useful gentleman! Two midshipmen and three of captain’s servants who have been made and are all showing handy. Lost the boatswain, but he had two young mates of some ability. Master gone, but he had a mate who is good. Carpenter unharmed, which is lucky indeed. Some damage to the rigging, but we will be able to set a full suit within an hour. The hull is sound. The two gunboats’ crews have been a Godsend, and Lieutenant Sykes is working well – it would be very useful to keep him, sir.”

  “Can you man a broadside, Mr Perlman?”

  “Barely, sir, and with men who are not all trained guncrew.”

  “You must load both sides immediately you have warning of action, Mr Perlman. Chaser as well. I shall endeavour to use you as a threat, sir, bringing you into a fight only as a last resort. Bring Iris alongside and transfer as many of your wounded as can be moved to Waldeman’s sickbay. Our doctor is not so busy as yours must be. There is word that the French liners may be accompanied by frigates and sloops, and you must be ready to at least drive them away.”

  “Perlen, sir?”

  “Will be with you.”

  Sir Iain escorted Mr Perlman to the side and then called to Midshipman Quarles.

  “Captain Warren to report aboard pendant.”

  He waited and greeted Captain Warren at the side, to show that he was not trying to make a display of his new rank as Acting-Commodore. He could not afford resentment from the captain of his other two-decker.

  “You know that we expect two Frogs this afternoon, Captain Warren. I have the Count of Banyuls aboard – and hopefully in the process of betraying his French friends – and he has mentioned in passing that they are to be accompanied by smaller ships – ‘some frigates’, he says.”

  “That would be a bit of a bugger, sir!”

  “Rather a lot, I fear. Captain Vereker’s Perlen is fit to fight, but Iris has been badly hurt. Even with the crews of the gunboats she is barely half-manned. The muskets did great harm to her. Dench is gone; McGregor has the prize frigate; she has but Vokes and Sykes as acting-lieutenant. We cannot expect her to hold her own in a fight.”

  Warren nodded thoughtfully, accompanied Sir Iain to his cabin.

  “What of Sir Frederick, sir? Is he to live?”

  “Lost his left arm, high. Survived the first hour of the amputation, so has a better than even chance of coming through. If he has shown no signs of the gangrene by tomorrow, then I shall be very hopeful for him. He was bruised across the chest as well, but that seems clean. I would say that three chances in four see him going home on his feet.”

  “Better than I had hoped, Sir Iain. He is a strong man, in his head, which always helps. About, Iris, sir, thinking on the matter, can she be seen to be lagging astern for some reason – other fish to fry first – and then come up hard as a reinforcement?”

  “A powerful frigate coming up to join the battle, just at a time when the Frogs are starting to wonder if they are going to lose? Good idea, sir! Let us speak to Mr Perlman. I have sent Nid Elven and Glommen away with the prizes, so that there is no master and commander to hand to take the frigate, as they must otherwise have
done. If Mr Perlman brings her into Gibraltar, then he must find himself promoted and probably given Nid Elven, Mr Freeman made post into Iris – changes which I cannot make with any certainty of their sticking.”

  “Clever, Sir Iain. I would not have thought that far! I hardly know Mr Perlman, but I gather you have a value for him.”

  “He did very well when we were in the Sugar Islands. There is a great deal of good in the man.”

  “Very good. Returning to business, Norge lost very few men in this morning’s fight, and is well capable of seeing action again today. I could send the midshipman and eight of seamen from the gunboat, as a temporary loan?”

  Sir Iain had already considered giving that order, and had decided against.

  “No – generous of you, Captain Warren, but you must have every man possible to hand. I want you, sir, to lead us into the fight, and in the process, put a broadside into every frigate or sloop that comes in range. Don’t hold back for the seventy-four of your choice. Waldeman will come behind and will mop up after you, if practical, while seeking out the pair of liners, with the aim of holding the two while you and Perlen take or burn the lesser ships. A reversal of the navy’s normal policy, and, I hope, unexpected. It is important, I think, that there should be no squadron of frigates working out of Barcelona and being a menace down the whole coast. You and Captain Vereker shall ensure that, and Iris will take the prizes in hand, or sink any too damaged to persevere with. You will wish to discuss your plans with Captain Vereker, I would think.”

  That was to give Captain Warren responsibility for the extirpation of the menace of the frigates, and would give him the glory in the despatches afterwards, as both realised.

  “That is generous of you, Sir Iain – but then, sir, all those who know you would expect nothing else. Let us hope that we drink to our success tonight or tomorrow, sir!”

  Nellie came in sight an hour later, ‘Enemy in Sight’ flying.

  “Four hours of daylight, Mr Patey. Line astern of Norge. Where is Perlen?”

  “In sight, sir, at five miles, in place to fall on the seaward flank of the enemy, sir, with the gage on the French, sir.”