She commented upon how relieved she was when she heard the others at the door. “I didn’t know what to do”, she volunteered. “I couldn’t leave him with all those guns lying about, and I had no way to tie him up. I thought about shooting him, but I wasn’t sure the gun would fire. So, the two of us just waited.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A NEW COMMAND
By the time the packet had reached Gibraltar harbor, most of Betsy’s crew had recovered, although the former captain was now almost an invalid and would have to give up the sea. The members of the French prize crew had also their own brush with the malady, some beginning to recover by now.
The fever flag was shown on entering and the ship was required to anchor in a protected area, with a guard boat patrolling to ensure against any seamen trying to get ashore. Considering the illness of the packet’s captain, Phillips had retained command of the brig.
As soon as the port’s doctor had determined the disease had ran its course and he had cleared the brig and its crew, Phillips ordered the mate to take the packet to the commercial anchorage, while he went ashore to advise General Rainsford, still the Lieutenant Governor, of his activities in the mail packet.
Rainsford was not present in the office in the Convent, which served as the local Government House. However, he was directed to the desk of a one-legged post captain, many years senior to himself.
Captain Hancock, it developed, had a leg shot off in the course of an action last year and rather than return home to face retirement had accepted the post here as naval attaché to the governor.
Hancock explained that while he had no official role, and actually received only his naval half-pay, he was glad to be busy taking care of Naval business here and seeing to the Royal Navy’s difficulties with the shore.
Accepting the travel-worn orders Phillips had brought with him, he nodded. “We thought the packet had been lost, being so late. With the concurrence of the Acting Governor, I drafted a request to the Admiralty to send another officer out. I had asked Governor Rainsford to allow me to take Blanche out, but he flatly refused.”
“Fortunately, the mail has not yet left, so we can find my request in the bag and destroy it. Actually, we are fortunate that you have been delayed. It seems the first officer on Blanche was distressed when he learned he was not to be given the command, so he has been frittering his crew away, unbeknownst to us. Any King’s ship needing a hand or two only had to ask Lieutenant Wainwright, and his wishes were filled. At the moment, probably half her hands are gone.”
“Fortunately for you however, HMS Triumph came in last week. She had been much beaten about in an action with a pair of Frenchmen, and it will be months before she will be able to resume her duties. I can draft enough men from her to fill out your crew.”
“What about my officers? What kind of people will I have? I wonder about this Lieutenant Wainwright you just told me about.”
Hancock thought a moment. “Wainwright received his commission back in the American war and has never advanced. He may be a bit bitter because of the younger officers he sees promoted ahead of him. On the visits I have made to the Blanche, she impressed me as more of a Royal yacht, than a warship of the Royal Navy. The crew is probably not too happy either. Blanche has an extra-large Marine detachment, and that may be the reason why there has been no mutiny. As far as the other officer’s go, they are much as one would expect. It has been my experience that junior officers often attempt to model themselves after their captain, so long as he has their respect.”
Phillips took a chance. “Captain Hancock, I happened to bring an extra officer with me. He is an admiral’s nephew, newly commissioned, but for all that, I feel the lad has possibilities. Would there be room on the ship’s establishment for another junior officer?
Hancock shook his head. “Not unless you take him aboard as your guest? Then, where the devil would you stow him? I suppose you could put him in the gunroom with the mids, if you wanted to.”
“What about if I sent one of the other officers ashore? Would any of them be related to an admiral or MP?” Phillips wondered.
Hancock assured him, as far as he knew, all the officers were free from special interest. “But you must understand, there may come a time when you would need the experience of that long-service officer you are sending ashore.”
Deciding to make his decision only after meeting the other officers he went down to the signal tower, meaning to signal Blanche to send a boat.
Once there though, he saw a guard boat patrolling the anchorage, in an effort to keep too many men from slipping over the side of their anchored ships and swimming ashore. On impulse, when he saw the midshipman in charge glance his way, he waved at him.
Clad in his new captain’s coat, with its single epaulette on the right shoulder, no mid was likely to ignore such a personage. The boat immediately came about and approached the shore. Phillips asked the lad if he would carry him out to the Blanche.
Phillips wanted no ceremony so he asked to be taken to the port side entry. Familiar with the constantly patrolling guard boat, it was only at the last moment when the master’s mate of the anchor watch spotted the post captain in its stern sheets. At his challenge, the mid looked at Phillips questioningly to see how he wanted to answer.
Normally, a captain would reply with the name of the ship he commanded, but he did not want to do this now, since he had not actually taken command of the frigate or of any other ship. So, he merely stood and shouted, “Aye aye!”
This signified there was an officer in the boat of no particular distinction. Nevertheless, there was a frantic flurry on deck as appropriate officers gathered to welcome him aboard.
An elderly, grey-hair lieutenant greeted him, apologizing that he had not been greeted in a better manner.
Phillips asked, “Mister Wainwright, I presume?”
“Yes sir. Actually, since the death of the captain, I have been in command. I thought I might perhaps be given the command, but I have received no word of that yet.”
Coming to a rapid conclusion, Phillips reached in his pocket and handed his orders to the officer. “Mister Wainwright, I wonder if you would call the hands aft and read these orders to them.”
Glancing at the orders, Wainwright’s face grew ashen as he realized he was not going to be the one to command the ship. Without comment, he turned to another officer and ordered, “Get the hands mustered here now, Harrison.”
Soon men were boiling from the hatches in silence, except when the rattan or rope’s end of a bosun’s mate struck a sensitive part of a seaman’s body. The only words being said were some shouting from those petty officers.
Once the men were standing quietly before the quarterdeck, Phillips nodded to the first officer, who began to read the document aloud. Once finished, Phillips announced in a loud voice, “I hope we will have a successful commission, men. Should any of you men have a request or complaint that you feel only the captain can solve, please inform your duty officer. I will start seeing such men individually tonight. Dismissed!”
Turning to Wainwright, Phillips said he would like to see the captain’s quarters at once. In half an hour, he wanted to see the ship’s officers, then after that, would see the warrants. After that, he would see.
The flustered Wainwright said, “Sir, I have been using the captain’s quarters and my gear is there right now. It will take a few minutes for a work party to remove it.”
“That’s all right Mister Wainwright. I can at least look the place over while your gear is being removed. I must obtain furnishings here before we sail and I need to know what I must buy.”
Entering his new quarters, Phillips was amazed by the amount of gear the first officer had stowed there. Apparently, he had gone on a spending spree ashore and filled the space. The officer apologized again, saying that he had thought he would get the command and had purchased items here to take back to England. Phillips shook his head. “Where you are going to stow this gear is beyond me, M
ister Wainwright. Whatever you cannot fit into your own cabin, you will have to take ashore to ship back home.”
A detail of seamen rapidly carried all of the officer’s property out on deck. Warning the officer, Phillips told him the material would be off the ship by nightfall. He gave Wainwright permission to leave the ship and make necessary arrangements. “You will be back by nightfall, Mister Wainwright”, Phillips ordered.
As soon as his quarters were empty, he called for the carpenter. His sleeping quarters were bare except the frame of a hanging bed. The office was indeed bare. Phillips wondered if Wainwright had been a little too free in removing the furnishings. Surely the previous captain had left something behind.
No matter, what the carpenter could not fabricate, he could surely purchase ashore. When Mister Reynolds, popularly known as ‘Chips’ entered, he was asked for his opinion. Chips allowed as he could make a desk and table for his captain, as well as some cabinets. He did mention if the captain wished any fine furniture, it might be better bought on shore.
Phillips doubted the ship would be permitted to remain in harbor all that much longer, so told Chips to go ahead with his own work. If he needed any special materials, they could be purchased on shore. Opening one of his chests, he withdrew a purse and took out a guinea. “Let me know if more funds are needed”, he informed the carpenter.
The Marine sentry now stationed outside his door slammed the butt of his musket against the deck and shouted, “Ship’s officers, sir!”
Chips left as the officers entered. Besides Wainwright, there was the second officer, Mister Harrison, a young man in his early twenties. The third officer, Peabody, was a rotund fellow of about thirty. Since this officer had the latest commission date, he must have remained a midshipman well into his twenties. Perhaps his girth had something to do with the matter.
Turning to Wainwright, he told him he had some work to do with getting his gear ashore and shipment arranged to Great Britain, He had better get on with the task.
A party of seamen came to the entry and were announced by the sentry. They had carried up some chairs borrowed from the wardroom. Some thin planks were laid across a couple of boxes and they had a table.
Phillips went to a sea chest and drew out a metal flask and some silver cups. He poured a couple fingers of pungent Scot’s whiskey into each, apologizing for not having brought any wine on board. There were some grimaces as two officer with little experience with the drink tried it at first, but he noticed every man held out his cup for a refill.
With a few drinks in every man, the conversation, which had been a little stilted at first, soon became general. Phillips casually wondered about the paucity of seamen aboard ship. It was Harrison, the youngest officer there who had, what Phillips believed to be, the correct answer. His speech a bit slurred now, the young second officer speculated Wainwright was perturbed that he might not get command of the ship and was deliberately sabotaging the new captain when he came aboard. Peabody, with more body weight to absorb the whiskey, looked shocked at his superior’s indiscretion, but as the junior officer present kept his mouth shut.
Phillips, with the offer of replacements from HMS Triumph, could be complacent about the loss of many of the Blanches. In the morning, he would have a muster to see personally what he had to work with and what men were needed.
It was late when Lieutenant Wainwright came aboard. In his cabin, Phillips, lying in a hammock until he could get his bed put together, heard the exchange on deck between Wainwright and Peabody, who was supervising the anchor watch. Peabody had merely commented on the quietness of the evening and Wainwright blistered the officer’s ears for having the effrontery to speak to him in such a manner. Phillips considered going on deck to watch over this situation, but Wainwright descended to the wardroom and all was quiet again.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
MISSION IN THE MED
The captain was on deck when the hands set to sanding it down with their ‘bibles’, then swabbing it dry. Wainwright, who kept no watch as first officer, stayed below until well after the sun was above the horizon.
The man newly assigned as his servant, a ruptured former topman, was aghast when he was told the captain would not be having breakfast this morning. In truth, he had not taken the time to shop for cabin stores, and his larder was empty. Phillips had planned to go ashore this morning, and purchase necessary cabin stores. He thought to buy something for breakfast from one of the vendors on the waterfront.
Seaman Hanlon had already explored his captain’s belongings and discovered the nested cooking utensils and crockery in one of the cases. Hanlon took one of the smaller pots down below and threatened the cook with mayhem if he did not fill the container with burgoo.
Now, this burgoo was basically stale oatmeal, liberally flavored with boiled beetles and a smattering of rat dung. Everyone on the ship was well acquainted with the substance. Hanlon thought he could improve on the article though. Up forward, Maude, the wardroom goat, was taking the sun in her little pen. The wardroom steward was a lazy sod who had not milked the goat yet, so Hanlon did the honors. He drew off a liberal amount of milk, enough for the burgoo with some left over for the coffee.
The coffee was his own concoction. He had gone into the galley while the mess cooks were just getting the galley fire going. Into a pan with a long handle, he put a big handful of dried peas and toasted them over the fire. When they looked scorched enough, he added some crumbled up ship’s biscuit and toasted that too. Of course, there were a few maggots also, but being small, they would hardly be noticed. When the biscuit crumbs were well browned, he took a bung starting hammer and pounded the contents of the pan to powder.
The resulting product was put in a pot and hung over the fire to boil. Now, having obtained the milk, he was ready to serve his captain. Before leaving the galley, he filched some molasses which he added to both the burgoo and his ‘coffee’.
The only table in the captain’s quarters were the boards laid across some boxes. He had previously laid sailcloth over the boards and placed the oatmeal and ersatz coffee upon that.
All being ready now, he went to the quarterdeck to call the captain for breakfast. Phillips was not amused at the announcement. He knew well his larder was empty and did not wish the ship’s officers to regard him as an improvident sort who would likely be begging meals from the wardroom. His stomach would just have to wait until the men had had their breakfast and he could feel justified in ordering a boat crew to pull him ashore.
Hanlon looked so distraught over his refusal to come though, Phillips relented and entered the cabin. He knew at once the foul smelling burgoo had not come from the wardroom, but the seamen’s mess. He was touched by the servant’s thoughtfulness. The ‘coffee’ too brought back memories. Many a time, back in his midshipman days, the gunroom had not the funds to buy real coffee, so they had made up an article such as this. Those memories brought a smile to his face as he ate his breakfast.
It was late in the morning watch when he was ready to go ashore, but first he wanted to see Mister Wainwright. Mister Harrison was on deck, so he asked him where the first officer was. With the reply, “Mister Wainwright is in his cabin”, Phillips grew livid. Some questions to the men elicited the information that the first officer had not been on deck for the entire night.
Phillips almost blew up. Every man of the ship’s crew had been up since before daylight, and here the first officer was still abed. Wainwright was exempted from standing watches since as first officer he was expected to be on deck much of the time. He came and went on his own accord, but all first officers that he had known spent an ungodly portion of the day and night on deck, supervising. That could easily be corrected, though.
He sent Harrison below with a summons for Wainwright. From his station on the quarterdeck he could hear the commotion from the wardroom as Wainwright lit into the hapless Harrison. When the first officer reported on deck, Phillips drew him over to the windward rail and began discussing his wishe
s. He told Wainwright that he wanted him to start standing watches with the other lieutenants. The premier was aghast. He informed Phillips that he had not stood a watch since he had gained enough service time to be first officer on his ships. If Phillips was adamant on the subject, he would have to go ashore and discuss this matter with Captain Hancock and the Governor.
Phillips nodded and assured Wainwright that he need not stand watches if he chose not to. Smiling over his victory over this young captain. The lieutenant went below. He was sure before this commission was over, it would be himself that would be running the ship.
There was some consternation among the witnesses to the exchange, but Hanlon assured one and all the captain was a deep one. He was not going to let the lieutenant get away with this.
The boat crew pulled Phillips to shore, where the first thing he did was find his way to a good breakfast. A combination of a Spanish posada and English inn was nearby, and he paid extra for them to stoke up the fire and prepare some fried pork and eggs this late in the morning. His belly satisfied, he went out to look for Mister Baker. They had not arranged a meeting place, but Phillips felt the place was small enough that he should find Baker without trouble.
Actually, there was a good bit of effort expended before he found Baker’s lodgings. Baker was not there but his landlady, a rather comely young widow, knew right where the lad was wont to linger. They met on a quay only a stone’s throw from where Phillips had come ashore.
Upon questioning, Baker announced he was feeling low and wished he was back in England. He felt he would never get a ship here and hated to go hat in hand to his uncle for assistance in getting home.
For the Honor of the Flag: A John Phillips Novel (War at Sea Book 2) Page 13
