by M. C. Muir
‘You have stuffed this man’s body with waste from the carpenter’s shop!’
‘I drained off the excess body fluid. I used the sawdust to absorb the natural seepage which accumulates post mortem. By that means, the corpse is less likely to stain the deck when it is taken up for the burial service.’
‘You say you merely drained the fluid yet, it appears to my unskilled eye, you have almost sliced the man into two parts and removed his insides.’
The doctor did not deny it. ‘I did what any other London surgeon would do, in an attempt to discern what caused the man’s death.’
‘But the man fell from the yardarm!’
‘I can assure you, Captain, this surgery was performed after death.’
‘I am not interested in the habits of London surgeons. I want this man sewn into a hammock immediately. Do you have his clothing?’
Dr Whipple nodded.
‘Then I suggest, he is fully dressed before he is stitched into a hammock in order to hide this desecration.’
‘Of course,’ the doctor said obligingly.
Oliver withheld his judgement. ‘I will speak with you later.’
Frustrated and angry, Oliver returned to his cabin and pondered over what he had just witnessed and the doctor’s explanation for what he had done. He pondered, too, over the rumours circulating the ship – unhealthy rumours which centred on the actions of the ship’s surgeon.
Dr Whipple was an enigma to him. Was the young doctor a product of the modern Age of Enlightenment which was sweeping Europe but managing to avoid the decks of fighting ships? Was his wooden world so detached from life as it existed in the towns and cities of Britain? How could he judge?
The riddle vexed him and he determined to resolve the matter immediately, however, not wishing to confront the doctor again in the sick berth and be distracted by a corpse being sewn into a hammock for burial, he requested the doctor attend him in his cabin.
‘Please sit,’ Oliver said, when the doctor arrived ten minutes later with a seemingly lame apology for his delay.
‘I examined your papers when you came aboard,’ the captain said. ‘From them, I learned you sailed to Port Royal as ship’s surgeon aboard a 74 with Captain Appleby.’
‘I was rated assistant surgeon initially.’
Oliver waited for an explanation.
‘The appointed ship’s surgeon contracted a dose of malignant fever only three days after we arrived in Kingston Harbour. He died three days later.’
‘And you examined his body, I presume,’ Oliver said cynically.
The doctor paused. ‘I did what was necessary.’
‘As a direct result of his death, I presume you were stepped up.’
‘That is correct. I had no choice in the matter.’
‘What illness did the surgeon succumb to?’ Oliver asked.
‘I wasn’t sure. I had my books with me for reference, and had read of the infectious diseases that are prevalent in the West Indies but, having only worked on the wards of the London Borough Hospitals, I was not familiar with the rapid course those tropical diseases took.’
He continued. ‘I cannot speak highly enough of Dr Appleby. Although he was on his deathbed, slipping in and out of delirium, he tutored me, advised me of which medicines to make up and administer to him. But even with his own help, I could not save him.’
‘And the rest of the crew, did any of them contract the same disease.’
‘Many of them became ill. Seventeen seamen died in the first two weeks. The others recovered with little or no help from me.’
‘Humph.’
‘I can imagine what you are thinking, Captain, but our ship was not alone. Three frigates in the harbour also suffered many deaths. One lost its surgeon to the illness, while another lost its captain. He had to be relieved of his duty and transferred to the hospital in Kingston. It was many months before he was fit to return to duty.’
‘No doubt you were relieved when the ship eventually weighed.’
‘I cannot remember,’ the doctor said. ‘I was ill and delirious for several days, but was fortunate to be nursed back to health by my assistant.’
Oliver pondered over his next statement. ‘Would I be correct in saying that your limited experience in the Royal Navy has not been entirely successful from a medical perspective?’
‘I shall not comment on my failure to protect the men from an epidemic that was ravaging the Caribbean at the time. That is for my superiors at the Navy Board to assess. However, I conveyed my disappointment to the Admiralty at not being allowed to remain on the island to assist the victims of the contagion. Had I been permitted to do so, my term in the tropics would have been for more instructive.’
‘Instructive?’
‘Working in Kingston hospital would have provided me with new skills and perhaps I would have learned how best to treat the deadly disease.’
Oliver did not reply.
‘Now if you will excuse me, Captain, there are some matters I need to complete.’
An hour later, the men mustered on deck swayed uncomfortably from one foot to the other, even though the deck had no movement in it.
Despite the burial service being brief with few unnecessary words spoken, this was the second burial for the week. With hats in their hands, the men stood in attendance only because they were obliged to. Few lifted their gaze from the deck and fewer still joined in the Lord’s Prayer, although every man could repeat the words by rote, equally as well as they could recite every paragraph of the Articles of War. How could they forget them? They were reminded of them twice a month.
‘Who was it this time?’ someone whispered.
‘Silence there!’ the midshipman ordered.
‘And who’ll be next?’ the voice was even lower.
‘Who said that?’ Mr Smith demanded, but no one answered.
Captain Quintrell replaced his hat.
‘On hats,’ was the order.
But the captain had not finished.
‘We are not stationed in this bay to satisfy any whim of mine. Given choice, I would put to sea in an instant and be well clear of this place. But let me remind you we have only been here for a few weeks. If we were with Admirals Nelson or Cornwallis, in the Mediterranean or at Ushant, it is possible we would have been in the same location for a year or more.’
‘But they don’t have a plague on their back doorstep.’
Oliver’s ears were keen. ‘Your observation is correct, Smithers, and that is something else I have no control over. My movements are restricted by a small matter called Admiralty Orders. And while you all listen to the Articles of War, you should realize anything which is contained therein is equally applicable to the most senior officers on this ship as it is to the cook’s servant in the galley.
‘We all serve King and country and my wishes and desires are no different from yours. I would dearly love to see the chalk cliffs of England and thrill to the gun on the saluting platform welcoming me home. Instead, I must be content with my present situation.
‘We must learn to accept the mists rising up from the bay and the clouds that descend from the mountain. I have no control over the weather. But there are other things that concern me which are not always apparent to you. The cooper tells me that most of our water is gone, and the carpenter informs me this morning that the ship’s hull, below the waterline, is dressed in green. Added to that, you men are becoming unsettled and indolent. This concerns me, as idleness leads directly to insubordination and mischief.
‘Most of you men have sailed with me before. You know me and know I am concerned for your welfare. I hope and pray our stay here is drawing to a close. As such, I have spoken with the garrison commander regarding our return to England.’
The captain’s words met with murmurs of approval.
‘But I can guarantee you nothing. Nor can the Lieutenant-Governor. And, I assure you, his worries and responsibilities are far greater than mine. The epidemic is claiming more lives every
day, both in the town and the garrison and for that reason, I suggest any man who is toying with the idea of running should consider what he would be running to.
‘Deck below! Sail entering the bay.’
Immediately everyone’s attention was to the foremast lookout.
‘What flag?’ Oliver called.
‘British. It’s the same frigate what was here last week.
‘Medusa, Captain Gore,’ Oliver murmured. ‘Dismiss the men, Mr Tully.’ Reaching for the glass from the binnacle, he put it to his eye.
‘Take a look at her canvas, Simon.’
But the lieutenant didn’t need the glass. ‘I think Captain Gore might be requiring assistance. ’
CHAPTER 13
Medusa
7 October 1804
When Captain Gore entered Oliver’s cabin on Perpetual, it was obvious his back was troubling him.
‘Welcome aboard, sir.’
Gore nodded, but his expression was not that of the man who had joked about his exploits with the young officers only a few days earlier.
‘Fighting battles is one thing,’ he sighed. ‘Fighting one’s conscience is another.’
‘Come, sit and relax for a while.’
The visiting captain raised his eyes and looked directly at his fellow officer. ‘It was not a satisfactory outcome for either side. Certainly, we followed orders, but all in all it was a catastrophe.’
‘Casson, some wine,’ Oliver called. ‘The least I can offer you. And, if you should need any assistance—’
‘There are several matters I must speak with you about but, for the moment, if you will excuse me,’ Gore said, removing his sword, stretching his back and seating himself in the wing-backed chair beside the empty fire hearth. Then he continued. ‘I presume you heard what happened two days ago.’
Oliver nodded. ‘The garrison received word yesterday afternoon. The news travelled overland via Algeciras.’
‘What did you hear?’
‘That a convoy had been attacked off Cape Saint Mary and a Spanish ship had been sunk. There was no mention of casualties or the cargo. Having come from Cadiz, the message was brief and failed to convey many details.’
Oliver paused. ‘I presume this is the mission you were engaged in.’
Captain Gore nodded. ‘Unfortunately, from all points of view, the result was far from what was intended. The only positive outcome is that it has deprived King Carlos of a considerable consignment of treasure from his colonies which was destined to end up in the hands of Napoleon.’
The conversation halted when Casson entered with a tray of refreshments.
‘Are you able to share the facts of the encounter?’ Oliver asked.
Captain Gore paused before answering. ‘My written report is already on its way to England. Captain Moore is heading for Plymouth in convoy with Lively, Captain Hammond, and Sutton in Amphion. They are escorting three Spanish ships.
‘And, might I ask, why you didn’t sail with them?’
‘You will have noticed, Medusa suffered considerable damage during the action and is on the verge of being declared unseaworthy. Because of its condition, I was not prepared to subject either my ship or my men to the Bay of Biscay. Hence, I have come here to seek your help. My stay will be brief for obvious reasons.’
‘I understand your concerns.’
Captain Gore shook his head. ‘No, I think not. My main concern is not the damage to my ship. What I fear is the action off Cadiz will render consequences which will reverberate across Europe. The action off Cape Saint Mary will precipitate a declaration of war from Spain within the next few weeks.’
Oliver begged the captain to tell him how the events unfolded.
‘When I left here, a little over a week ago, I joined company with Amphion, Captain Sutton, and we headed into the Atlantic beyond Tarifa and Cape Trafalgar to patrol the waters off the Spanish and Portuguese coasts.
There, I met with Captain Moore, Indefatigable and Lively, Captain Hammond, who had been sent from the Channel Fleet.
‘As was planned.’
‘Correct. We remained in that vicinity, south west of Cape Saint Vincent until 5 October. That morning, at 7 o’clock, around nine leagues south west of Cape Saint Mary, Medusa was the first to see the Spanish fleet – four frigates, under a press of sail, steering for Cadiz. An impressive sight indeed. The leading frigate, La Fama, was flying a commodore’s broad pennant. Behind that was Médéa, flying the flag of the Rear Admiral. She was an grand ship, armed with 42 x 18 pounders guns. She was followed by two others, Nuestra Señora de las Mercedes and Santa Clara.
‘I signalled Captain Moore, who immediately ordered us to form a line, hoping the formation we presented would induce the Spanish ships to shorten sail and heave to. I was on the weather beam of the leading ship. Captain Moore was immediately behind me in Indefatigable, with Amphion and Lively followed behind.
Once in position, we waited for the fleet to reduce sail but the Spaniards showed no intention of doing so.
‘With orders to detain the ships and not attack them, Caption Moore ordered a shot from Indefatigable to be put across the flagship’s bow. That was ignored, so he sent a lieutenant across stating his intention of detaining the fleet and returning them to England.’
‘And the response?’ Oliver asked.
‘As you can well imagine, the commodore was not prepared to hand over his treasure ships, and immediately moved into a position of close engagement.’
Oliver waited.
‘When the boat returned, a second warning shot was fired from the Indie, but Mercedes replied with a ball across Amphion’s deck wounding five of its crew. It could have been far worse. The Spanish ships were well armed and had far more guns than we did.
‘At 10 o’clock, Médéa turned its guns on Indefatigable. Fortunately for Captain Moore, the aim was poor and the Indie suffered neither damage nor casualties but that action prompted retaliation from the other vessels and, within minutes, both sides were engaged in heavy fire.
‘Ten minutes later there was the most horrendous ear-splitting explosion. Nuestra Señora de las Mercedes was blown to matchwood with flames leaping sky-high.’
‘A direct hit on the magazine?’
‘No, I learned later, it was due to careless handling of powder below deck.’ Captain Gore shook his head. ‘The explosion was so powerful part of one of Mercedes’ guns was found lodged high in Amphion’s rigging. I am surprised the sound did not carry to Gibraltar.’
‘And what of the crew of the stricken ship? Were there any survivors?’
‘Amphion was quick to put boats in the water but to little avail. Mercedes had on board 240 souls including many women and children returning home to Spain. Only 40 survivors were plucked from the water. The remaining 200, including her captain, went down with the ship.’
‘A tragedy. But what of the other three ships?’
‘In the confusion of noise, smoke, flame and debris, they attempted to escape. I gave chase to La Fama and quickly caught up with her. She was not prepared to fight and hauled her colours, as did the Santa Clara.
‘And the third?’
‘Médéa, with the Spanish Admiral aboard, made all sail and managed to escape the action.’
‘Did he get away?’
John Gore shook his head. ‘Captain Hammond gave chase and captured the frigate before sunset. The following morning, the prisoners and wounded were taken aboard the British ships and some of the treasure was also transferred for fear the damaged Spanish ships might sink. There was an immense amount of treasure. Gold, silver, specie and merchandise.’
‘But what of Mercedes, the ship that blew up? Was she an escort or was she also carrying treasure?
‘According to the commander’s inventory, she was carrying a fortune in gold and silver coins. She went down in deep water, scattering her contents on the sea floor. A disaster.’
‘And the commander?’
‘Rear Admiral Jose de Bustamente y Guer
ra. One of the most experienced officers in the Spanish Navy. He had served as Governor of Montevideo and was returning to Spain with his family. I met with the Admiral the following day when Captain Moore and I went aboard his vessel. A true gentleman, if ever there was one. He expressed no malice towards us despite his losses. He also introduced me to his close friend, a Major who had stood beside him during the action and watched helplessly as his wife, five daughters and three sons perished in the massive explosion. The Major’s only remaining son was on Médéa with him.’ He shook his head.
‘How can I be of assistance to you?’ Oliver asked.
After stretching his back, Captain Gore sat forward in the armchair.’ There are three things I will beg assistance with. Firstly, the loan of your carpenter and his mates.’ He explained. ‘While my frigate suffered some damage, it was not nearly as much as that suffered by the treasure ships. For Captain Moore to escort them to England, he first had to make them seaworthy. I therefore gave him my team of carpenters to attend to those repairs.’
‘I understand.’
‘It is important I follow Captain Moore to England, as soon as possible, otherwise he will fear I have lost my ship and the treasure that was transferred to Medusa. Therefore, I need to borrow some men to repair my damage. Two or three days should be sufficient. Major repairs will have to wait until I reach Plymouth.’
Oliver was pleased. ‘Take them with my blessing. I presently have carpenters aboard who are idling their time, complaining they have nothing to do. You will be doing me a favour by gainfully employing them for a few days.
‘I appreciate your help. If your men could be made ready, I will return them to Medusa with my boat. I just pray the weather gods will look kindly on us while we are in Gibraltar Bay.’
Oliver excused himself for a moment, while he spoke with his steward requesting the carpenter and his mates be mustered on deck with their tools ready to transfer to Medusa.
