“Very well, let us go see him.” Captain Phillips, and a squad of Marines were led by the boy to what amounted to the ship’s hospital. Horribly wounded men lay about, many of them dead. No assistance was being provided to anyone, and the only uninjured person was drunk. This man sat on a chest, his back against a bulkhead, his clothing clotted with old blood. The aspirant explained this unconscious man was the ship’s doctor, but that he had prescribed himself too much brandy and laudanum to function any longer.
Needing to discuss matters with some responsible member of the ship’s crew, Phillips approached the man and tapped his shoulder. The man groaned, but remained still. He pushed him a little harder, and the man started. Suddenly his head was up, and a large pistol was wavering in his hand. Phillips was unable to retreat because of the Marines behind him. They in turn, alerted by the weapon, found it hard to protect him since their captain was between them and the threat.
As everyone started to scramble to get clear of the pistol, the thing fired. The flash from the pan nearly blinded everyone in the dim light, and he felt something slam into his upper arm. It felt like a blacksmith had swung his hammer against him. As he fell to the floor, the corporal behind him shouted, “Bastard’s shot the Cap’n, nail him.”
T
here was a scramble in the close quarters as the Marines made room to level their muskets. Unabl
e, one of the Marines smashed the sitting drunk with a butt stroke of his musket. There was a stutter of musket shots as the others found room to fire and three of the massive three quarter inch diameter lead balls smashed into the French surgeon. There was clothing scattered about the place, and muskets were thrust through some jacket armholes to make a rude stretcher to strap him to with musket slings.
By now, the numbness of the original impact had subsided, and excruciating pain ensued. As he was hoisted up on deck, the ship’s doctor from Courageous appeared alongside. As it happened, there were really very few wounded aboard his own ship, and after initial treatment, he felt comfortable leaving his patients in the care of the sick berth attendants, one of whom had been a cow leach in civilian life. At Mullin’s request, he had grabbed a bag of instruments and was down the side of the ship like a monkey. One of the Marines aboard the French man of war called down that the captain had been shot, and was dying.”
The doctor was up the side of the third rate almost faster than he had descended the frigates. Phillips was in shock and unconscious, but the doctor thought there might be an excellent chance of saving the arm. A quick view of the carnage below took away any thoughts he may have had about treating the captain there. Since it was now a delightful, if breezy early June day, the doctor had men pull over the remains of a gun carriage that had been wrecked during the battle a day before, and lashed boards on top. This gave him a platform out in the sun.
The men laid their captain on the platform. Knowing what was required, a leather strap was plac
ed in his mouth, and his arms and legs firmly strapped down. The seamen produced a mug of navy rum, which the surgeon fortified with a little laudanum. The doctor decided not to utilize this right away though, since the patient was in shock and unconscious.
The surgeon cut away the clothing from his arm and wiped it down with neat rum. This was a superstition with the doctor, which other surgeons laughed at behind his back. Sometimes, he even wiped down his instruments with rum also, when nobody was looking. He felt he had better results this way. Examining the wound, he found the lead ball had touched the humerus as it went through the arm, cracking it, but not reducing it to splinters as one might expect.
The ball had passed right through the arm, without damaging anything else. The surgeon had to pick out threads of coat material from the wound. This was difficult, because blood was pouring out of the wound, making it difficult to see. When he felt he had removed all the foreign particles possible, he soaked swabs of cotton lint in rum, and bound them to the arm.
Giving the flask of rum and laudanum to a Marine guard, he instructed him to give that to the captain when he awakened. He was instructed that this drink was all he was to administer. He knew the propensity of the men to modify or amplify any suggested medical treatment. Then the surgeon went below to treat the wounded French matelots there.
Phillips awoke back in Courageous a day later. The Marine guard had given him his potion of rum and laudanum. However, since the man knew that if a little was good, a lot was better, so when the prescribed dosage was finished, he and his mates also dosed the captain with neat arrack whenever he showed signs of awakening. One of his mates had brought back a small keg of the fluid from the liner. The Marines felt it their duty to share with the captain. Phillip’s head was hammering from the effects of the alcohol and laudanum, and his arm had felt better. However, he
got to his feet and started to emerge from his cabin.
Lieutenant Mullins was horrified. The crew had mutually decided the captain was on death’s door, but the surgeon was having none of it. He had given Phillips a sling, strapped splints on the arm, and told him to walk around when he saw fit. He said, as long as the wound did not mortify, he should have a complete cure.
Mullins said he had Crawford over in the captured frigate, while Rodney was aboard the liner
. There had been some embarrassment in giving the orders. Both men had been commissioned sea officers when Mullins was playing with toys, but he was in fact a first lieutenant while they were half-pay volunteer officers. There were serious problems with each of their new commands. The frigate had a massive hole in her waterline from a big ball from one of the carronades. A sail had been fothered over the hole, and the pumps were keeping up with the influx of sea water, at least for now. The liner’s hull had been pretty well beat in, but her heavy scantlings had protected her from really serious damage. However, she had not a stick standing. No spars were available to put up as jury masts, nor was there any way to do it. The capstan of the liner was being repaired so that the tow cable could be wound in, then a tow could be attempted.
Phillips nodded. “You have done well, Mister Mullins. You need some rest now. I will take the deck awhile. As soon as the tow line is ready, we will pass it and square away for Plymouth.”
“Will we not be in trouble with admiralty if we do not join Admiral Howe as ordered?”
“We will be in worse trouble if we lose this 74 gun liner we have captured. The third rate has not a stick standing. The frigate has a hole in her hull you could drive a carriage through. Unless someone comes to help us, we have the only ship available to get the prizes ashore.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DOMESTIC BLISS
It was mid-June when Courageous and her captives reached port. It was not a moment too soon for Captain Phillips. His arm, which had seemed to be healing so well early on, had become inflamed and the pain was beginning to wear on him. His surgeon, previously pleased at his work, now doubted the efficacy of his original treatment. Next time, he would lop off the offending limb as soon as the patient was on the table.
When he suggested that option now, Phillips ordered him from his cabin, and the Marine sentry was ordered to deny him entrance in the future. He realized he was in a foul temper much of the time, and deliberately confined himself in his quarters when he found himself becoming too unbearable to others. When he reported in to the port captain, he was praised for his recent successes, and the suggestion was made that it would not be impossible for him to be appointed captain in the Achille, the French 74 he had brought in.
An incautious movement brought a twinge of pain, which brought notice to his arm in the sling. Asked about the injury, Phillips explained about his wound, and the trouble he was having with his surgeon.
Captain Anderson contemplated the matter for a minute, then replied. “Phillips, you deserve a rest. You have been carrying on the war almost by yourself, and you must now give another his innings. I want you to go up to London and see a man on Harley Street I know. He is one of the
best physicians in the kingdom, and if he can’t get at the root of your problem, nobody can. He has more knowledge in his little finger than all of these fleet surgeons put together. I expect it will be a year before Achille can go to sea. I am going to recommend you be given her when she is ready. By then, you should be recovered and ready to go back to war.”
“Now then Captain Phillips, who shall we give Courageous to?”
Without much hope, he offered up the name of Lieutenant Mullins, his first officer.
“Captain Phillips that would be coming it a little high. Mullins, I happen to know, was a midshipman a year ago. I realize his father is in Lords, which would explain it, but it just won’t do, Captain. Not even as commander into a sloop of war. I’ll tell you though. A private yard up the river a bit, has about finished a little gun brig. She will be armed with fourteen carronades. I am willing to consider him as her Lieutenant-Commander. Tell him to notify his father and then co
me to see me, and we will see what we can do.”
Phillips had posted Sarah on his arrival, and told her he was going to be in England for a while. He had considered taking a coach up to London to see the Harley Street doctor, but decided that was most likely useless. He was just going to have to get used to the pain.
He took rooms in a respectable house near the dockside, and engaged a manservant. That did not last long, though, as his temper had become so foul that the man could not abide it. One day he rang for him and did not receive an answer.
The lady of the house reported she had seen the man walking away from the house carrying his bag. That afternoon, Sarah arrived. She had coached down with her ever present companion. She quickly discovered the problem. After some investigatory work on her part, she asked a local surgeon to visit Captain Phillips. While the man had read some medicine, he was by no means a physician, and was referred to as Mister, instead of Doctor. At any rate, he had solved many problems for residents of the area, and came well recommended.
When Mister Holmes arrived, Phillips was feverish; his upper arm swollen almost to bursting. Phillips was by that time incapable of coherent speech, moaning and cursing by turns. Holmes spoke to Sarah as to what he needed to do. “Miss Forsythe, I need to palpate the area of his arm where the problem seems to lie. However, he is in so much pain that I hesitate to do it. I would like to procure some tincture of laudanum and administer enough to calm him. Perhaps then, we may learn something.
While waiting for the surgeon to make his preparations, Miss Arnold, Sarah’s companion, decided to return home. Clearly this wounded officer was no danger to her charge’s honor, and she f
elt uncomfortable in the sickroom of a male.
Sarah located John’s purse and extracted a few guineas. Giving one to the surgeon’s servant, he left to visit the local apothecary. When the servant returned, he handed a small bottle to the surgeon, who poured a measured amount of liquid into a glass. He added a small amount of honey and some warm water.
Stirring it, he handed the glass to Sarah. He said, “Many patients find that tincture of laudanum has an unpleasant taste; I have added a little honey to make it more palatable. I would like you to try to administer the dose. With him so restive, you may have more success giving him the mixture than I. Do not worry if you spill some, we have plenty of tincture.”
After many trials, she got John to drink enough to satisfy the surgeon. Phillips quieted down and became more relaxed. After some thought, Mister Holmes decided to administer a few more drops of the tincture. Phillips became lethargic, and Holmes began palpating the grossly swollen arm.
Finding an egg sized lump, he reached in his bag, found a small lancet and gave it a wipe with his handkerchief. Testing the edge of the lancet on his thumb, he judged the tool was sharp enough.
Holding the lancet firmly, he made an incision in Phillip’s arm, right down into the lump. Phillips groaned, and tried to pull his arm away. The surgeon’s servant held it down firmly, and an evil looking fluid spurted from the incision. The surgeon ordered soap and hot water, and scrubbed down the skin around the wound. Removing a small earthenware jar from his bag, he poured a thick liquid into the incision, and stitched the wound with needle and thread. After binding the wound, he beckoned Sarah to come with him outside.
H
e told Sarah he would drop by the next day to examine his patient. Sarah wondered what the substance was that he had poured into the wound. “Plain honey, Miss Forsythe. I believe if we can keep that on the incision until healing takes place, we may save the arm.”
That evening, Phillips had a better night than he had since he had been wounded. Next morning, he was rational and alert. His arm, while very painful, was no longer as angrily red as it had been the day before. The surgeon had left the bottle of laudanum tincture, and she administered a few drops whenever she felt the pain was becoming excessive. A day later, John left his bed, against the wishes of Sarah. The surgeon came by for the first few days to inspect the wound and replace the bandage.
However, after watching Sarah clean and bandage the arm, he decreed her capable of continuing Phillips care by herself, and accepting a handful of guineas, left.
A week found the pain to be a memory. Phillips was now up and about, feeling as healthy as he had been before. He walked one morning down to the quay, and looked out at the big Achille, which he had brought in weeks before. She had her masts in, and men scrambling over her hull, repairing all her battle damage. It appeared the port captain’s guess of a year’s delay somewhat pessimistic. He would guess a few more months more likely.
He decided to visit the port captain to give him an address when it came time for him to be called. He left his card, but the captain was not available. Wondering about the port captain’s absence during duty hours, he took up post on a bench at the quay side for an hour, but the captain never appeared.
Back at his rooms, Sarah had settled in. With limited room, it had seemed natural for Sarah to
move first into his room, and then into his bed. John wondered what had happened to Miss Arnold, but was intelligent to realize that it might be better to have a still tongue. The next weeks were delightful, until he made another trip to the office of the port captain. He left his card again as well as a note saying he was now healthy, and wondered when the Achille might be ready. The lieutenant holding fort at the desk recommended he post up to London and inquire at the admiralty.
He decided to wait a bit, sitting on the bench by the quay. While waiting, he saw a middle aged captain with a lieutenant approach the bench. He stood, and the officers saluted. The other captain asked, “Would you mind if I sat her for a bit? Mister Wilson here is going over to the signal tower, and ask them to signal my ship to send a boat.”
As they discussed the war, Phillips saw the flags rise to the signal mast. Answering flags appeared on the Achille. He watched a boat being lowered from that ship, and men load into it. He asked, “Would your ship be the Achille Captain?”
“Indeed it is Captain. It seems the man who actually captured her and brought her in was to command her, but it seems he was permanently injured and could not assume command, so it was offered to me.”
Phillips said not another word, but nodded, and left.
That evening, Sarah was unusually subdued when he went back to the rooms. Normally she bubbled with excitement about most any subject, but now said hardly anything. After some prodding, she admitted, “John, I visited a doctor today.”
He was concerned. He realized women had strange and mysterious maladies that men were not supposed to know about. After some effort, the truth came out. Sarah was pregnant.
The astonished captain was speechless. Sarah said, “John, do not worry. This will not affect your career. I will go away, and you can go back to the navy. I will always remember you, though.”
His stumbling tongue had trouble with the words, but he finally got them out. “Sarah, why don’t we just get married?”
She looked at him for a moment,
then said, “Very well, John.”
After some discussion, it was decided they would be married by a nearby magistrate. Sarah’s uncle was not a religious man, but she was concerned he might find it necessary to defend his niece’s honor by meeting Phillips in a duel. It was decided that for the nonce, Phillips would remove himself to a nearby inn, while Sarah would employ a lady’s maid and remain in the rooms. She would write her uncle, and explain John had recovered his health, and they were to be married. He was invited to give her away, if he were so inclined. After the wedding, they would go on a sea voyage. She explained to John it might be embarrassing to have a baby arrive only five or six months after the wedding, so the problem might be solved if the baby arrived in Canada or America.
Phillips was unsure how a pregnant woman might withstand a long sea voyage, but knew better than to ask. That afternoon, he went to a nearby inn, and engaged rooms for a month. He visited the landlady of the house he had been living in, and reserved the rooms in the name of Sarah. The woman had a wry look on her face when he told her, but accepted the money.
Sarah took on the task of notifying her uncle. She explained John could ask him for her hand when he arrived. The grim faced uncle arrived on the coach a few days later. On Sarah’s advice, Phillips remained in his rooms at the inn, until she sent him a note by messenger. When John reported at his former rooms, the uncle had been mollified. His niece’s reputation was protected by a middle aged lady’s maid who looked as if she would tolerate no nonsense.
He was satisfied with the wedding in front of a magistrate with no unseemly haste. As a man of the world himself, he was aware of the necessity for newly married couples to disappear for lengthy periods sometimes, to make it more difficult for people to count backwards to determine exactly when the new baby might have been conceived. Truthfully, he had been troubled by his inability to provide a significant dowry; he appreciated his niece’s intended made no mention of one.
For the Honor of the Flag: A John Phillips Novel (War at Sea Book 2) Page 7
