Quarterdeck

by David O'Neil

  She offered the coffee pot to Martin, who shook his head, still absorbing her statement. She poured the remainder of the cooling coffee into her cup and drank it. She looked up at him enquiringly. He rose to his feet and stepped over to her side. He took her hand and raised her to face him. Then he drew her close and kissed her. As he stood back he said, “Alouette, we have shared dangers and been friends for some years. In fact I believe more than friends. I trust that will always be the case. I am happy for you in your new task. I am also happy to return to my own way of life. Please call upon me if you need me.”

  He stood back, releasing her, noting the glistening of a tear in her eye as he took his leave. Mr.. Hervey was waiting as he left the room. He took his hat, cloak, and sword. Hervey stepped over to open the door for him. As he did he said, “She is the right one. We will look after her.”

  Martin smiled at the normally unemotional face. “Mr.. Hervey, I never doubted it for an instant.”

  ***

  At the Admiralty later that day, he was seated with his adoptive father.

  Charles Bowers was showing signs of age. His hair was now quite grey, but his stance was still erect when he stood. Though there was a slight thickening at his waist, he was not fat.

  “Martin, now we have you back where you belong once more. There is a captured French frigate undergoing repair and refit in Portsmouth dockyard at this time. She is named Garonne, but will be re-named before long. I think it would be a good idea if you took an early interest in her before matters go too far.

  Charles added, “Since you commanded HMS Fox successfully, perhaps HMS Vixen would be appropriate. It would look well in the List.” He was referring to the Navy List which not only listed all officers, but also all ships.

  “I will have the orders prepared for you. It will mean joining the Channel fleet, probably blockade duties to begin with. But it will put a deck beneath your feet once more.

  He gave the news to Jennifer when he returned home. Her sadness was swiftly hidden as she recognised her husband’s yearning to get back to sea. She had accepted that by marrying a sailor she was condemning herself with long lonely periods throughout her life. She loved her husband and was happy for him returning to the life he was made for.

  Martin made all haste to see his new command. Taking Jennifer to Eastney, they joined Lady Jane and daughter, Jane, who had been helping her grandmother still recovering from the strain of nursing Jennifer through her lengthy illness.

  From there, Martin made his way to the dockyard to see his new command.

  ***

  The Garonne was a 40 gun ship, captured during an excursion by Lord Cochrane from Gibraltar. She had been recently built and, though damaged about the upper part of her hull, her lower hull was sound. Most of the major repairs had been undertaken and there was little that could be faulted with the work thus far. The repairs had been overseen by an appointed officer, Lieutenant Patrick Brooks, whose recovery from injury had been accomplished finally, just prior to the arrival of the ship for repair and refit.

  Being on the beach without immediate prospect of a seagoing appointment, he had been delighted to stand by the ship during repair. It gave him, as he put it, food on the table and the odd drink, to keep body and soul together.

  He was able to give Martin a detailed tour of his new command, and he impressed Martin with his general demeanour.

  At Martin’s invitation Brooks joined him for luncheon in the dockside inn. There Martin decided to learn a little more about Lieutenant Patrick Brooks.

  “I was wounded during my service with Admiral Troubridge. We were rather battered during our voyage to India. On the stretch to the Cape I received a broken leg and a nasty splinter wound at the same time. The surgeon put me ashore at the Cape Colony, where I recovered. I was due to rejoin my ship on her return voyage, but, as you must be aware, the Blenheim was lost before it reached Africa. I did receive passage home in HMS Harrier, commanded by the admiral’s son. Unfortunately, I was not yet fit enough to be considered by Captain Troubridge to remain in the ship.”

  “I see,” Martin commented. “Where are you from, Mr.. Brooks?”

  “My family lives in Ireland, where they have a small estate. My father was a soldier who served with Moore in Ireland suppressing the Republican rebellion in ‘98. He was wounded and retired from the army in the same year. I was at sea at the time. I have not been home since ’04. I was considering a visit when I was released from Haslar Hospital. I was offered this position by the port admiral. I was fortunate enough to have served under him. He remembered me.”

  Martin was impressed by the young man, who at 24 years was at a critical stage in his career. The work, which had been done to ensure the ship was being properly restored, reflected the effort the young man had put into his task.

  After some consideration Martin sat back from the table and called for a bottle of port. When it arrived and they had served themselves, he said, “Mr. Brooks, I may say that I have observed the way you have supervised the work on the ship. I would be happy to have you serve as one of my officers, if it would suit you?”

  Patrick Brooks, flushed. “Sir, I am aware of your reputation. I would be most grateful for a place in your crew. I understand that the crew will be assembling during the next three weeks. You may be assured I will be making all preparation necessary to have them accommodated and settled in, ready for when you take command. When may I expect the first lieutenant to arrive”

  “I am unsure at present. I have not yet located the man I requested. In the interim, I would expect you to assume the post, at least until the matter is decided.”

  “Of course, sir. Gladly!” Brooks could not believe his luck. The man before him was already a national hero. Though there were many jealous of his fortune, those who had served with him, were unstinting in their admiration. And that, decided Brooks, was the real test of a hero.

  Martin’s first choice for a first lieutenant was currently in the West Indies. The presence of the young man at this time and place was most convenient. Time would tell of course, but there was little doubt in his own mind that Mr.. Brooks would suit him well.

  The Port Admiral was known to Martin. Apart from the recommendation of Lieutenant Brooks, he was able to suggest two midshipmen of experience and several men of the area, who had approached him at the news that Martin was to command the Vixen . His reputation did mean that there was a good chance of prize money he being a lucky Captain. The dockyard workshop carpenter had indicated that he was getting itchy feet, having served some years with Pellew before joining the shipyard to marry his sweetheart. Now with three children growing up around him he was ready to go back to sea, assured that his family would be secure.

  Martin had no hesitation in engaging his services as ship’s carpenter. James Hanson had been working on the re-fit and knew the ship from truck to keelson. In addition, though approaching forty years, he was fit and strong.

  ***

  One month later, on a cold winter’s day in January ’07, HMS Vixen signalled her departure to the Port Admiral at Portsmouth harbour.

  From her Quarterdeck, Captain Sir Martin Forest-Bowers was able to see the warmly-wrapped figure of his beloved Jennifer standing with Lady Jane beside their waiting carriage.

  Through his telescope he caught the wave of her hand in farewell, before he closed it with a snap and turned to the business at hand.

  His first lieutenant, Patrick Brooks, called to Midshipman, Neil Harmon, the son of the next door neighbour to the Eastney estate of the Admiral Lord Bowers, Martin’s adoptive father. Young Harman had sailed his dinghy in the Solent from the age of seven. At thirteen, he had made a single voyage in a merchantman to Lisbon. He had elected for a naval career after experiencing the shortcomings of the ship’s officers, which had nearly resulted in the loss of the ship. His agile figure raced up the shrouds to the masthead. From this precarious viewpoint he viewed the anchorage through his telescope. “Deck there! All clear to seawa
rd, sir.”

  “Very good, Mr.. Harmon. Stay until we clear the Round Tower, if you please.”

  “Happy to feel the deck lift beneath you again, Mr.. Brooks?” Martin asked.

  “Yes indeed sir,” Brooks replied with a smile.

  “No news of the first lieutenant, sir.”

  “I’m afraid not. So I suggest you move your gear into the first’s cabin, and inform Lieutenant Cameron accordingly. In the circumstances, the senior Mid, Keats, should be made acting. After all, he is due to sit his exam for lieutenant this year, and he can stand watch with the Master temporarily.

  “We are lucky to have a real doctor aboard. Doctor Mills was on the staff at Haslar, as I believe you are aware.”

  Brooks grinned. “You did mention that you would prefer a proper surgeon for the ship.”

  “I confess he appears to be better qualified than I anticipated.” Martin admitted.

  Brooks said nothing, aware that Doctor Mills had suffered a disagreement with some rather badly disposed gambling acquaintances over an overambitious bet on a horse which had fallen before the post. The Doctor pointed out that, in view of the fact that the horse had been shot within sight of the winning post, thus was unable to complete the course, all bets were off.

  His creditors had disagreed. His hasty departure on HMS Vixen solved two problems, one for the Doctor, the other for the ship.

  ***

  The battle to get the ship through the harbour entrance was won after three-quarters of an hour of sheer hard work, working sails and tacking against a wind which had turned almost contrary. Once outside, however, the ship took off on a long reach for nearly fifteen hours. As the wind filled from north to northeast the ship was able to point higher and higher. The run, down channel toward Ushant, required sail trimming only for the entire 250 mile voyage. They spoke to four ships before, in the morning of the third day, they encountered the sloop, HMS Bella from the Channel fleet, en-route to England with dispatches’.

  Her Captain called across, “The weather drove the fleet to the south of Pointe du Raz. The winds were contrary. The fleet is gradually beating northward once more, but yesterday evening most were still south of the Goulet de Brest. I fear some enemy ships may have escaped the harbour.”

  They parted, allowing the sloop to continue her journey.

  Martin spoke to Jared Watson, the Master. “Where would they go, d’you think, Mr.. Watson?”

  “If they can weather the Pointe de St Mathieu, I would suggest up the coast, hugging the shore-line to make for Roscoff. Once there they can take their chances to go further up-channel or west into the Atlantic. I guess the escaping ships would not be of the line, perhaps frigates or corvettes.”

  “I agree, Mr.. Watson Let us pay a visit to Roscoff. It is not far off our course and at least we can advise the Admiral if any have made it that far. Alter course to fetch the coast at the Isle de Batz. We will take a look from there.”

  The Isle de Batz was just beyond the town to the west of Roscoff. The harbour was visible from the sea. Martin took advantage of the French lines of his command and sailed close to the harbour mouth to make sure of ships moored there.

  Once more Mr.. Harmon was sent aloft with telescope to report on what he could see.

  Almost immediately he reported four ships. “Three warships, two frigates,” he paused “A corvette perhaps 22 guns, the frigates are both 38 guns.

  “The other ship is a merchantman, a captured East Indiaman, from her looks. I will have her name in a moment as she swings at her mooring.” He paused again, then. “Yes, I see her now. She is Harlech Castle 24-guns. She has the tricolour flying above the union flag.”

  “Very good, Mr. Harmon. You may come down now.”

  ***

  They joined the fleet the following evening, coming within sight of the flag, in the now calming waters of the aftermath of the storm which had driven the fleet off station.

  Admiral Jervis was in England and unlikely to return immediately. His deputy, Admiral Hardy, received Martin in his cabin on the flagship. Having read his orders, he sat back, waving at the wine and inviting Martin to refill his glass. “Here you are, young Forest-Bowers; my nephew speaks very highly of you.”

  Seeing Martin’s puzzled look, he smiled. “You were not aware that Commander Brown is my sister’s boy? He was Middy under Captain Graham, when you assumed command after Graham died. Damn bad business that. You took him as lieutenant afterwards. He was grateful for your interest.” He grunted and cleared his throat.

  Martin said, “He was a willing learner and good with the men. I suggest he will go far. This war is by no means over, I believe.”

  “Quite right. That brings me to this report about the ships in Roscoff, two frigates, a corvette plus an Indiaman. What do you think?

  “I think that the batteries at the harbour are badly sited. I also think that with two boats for each of the frigates, one for the corvette, and two for the Indiaman we have a good chance of scooping them all. The Indiaman is not alongside and I believe not yet unloaded. She was still down to her marks when she was observed. But how long for I cannot guess.”

  “If you continue on our present heading you should be at the east end of the Isle-de-Batz by tomorrow night. I will detach the sloop Pelican and the frigate Boscombe to accompany you for a cutting-out expedition. We will also give you the cutter we captured yesterday. She will be handy and we can fill her with men to tow your pulling boats, at least to the harbour itself. I’ll draft the orders now and send them over. You can prepare the cutter. You can have someone to command her and get together with York and Hamilton from the Pelican and Boscombe.”

  Back on board, Martin called Brooks, “Signal Pelican and Boscombe, Captains to report on board.” Martin was senior to both Lieutenant York and Captain Hamilton.

  Lt Cameron prepared to receive the two officers whose boats were already in the water en route. Ship’s Master, Watson, followed Martin into his cabin.

  Martin grinned, “We will be cutting out the ships left in Roscoff!” He said, “The order is coming from the Admiral directly. The course will be to the east end of the Isle de Batz, where we will drop the men into boats and the cutter, Angelique, will tow them in. We need to be there in darkness. That is, we need to be within the harbour in darkness. Please work out the course and take into account the ships travelling with us, the Pelican, the Boscombe, and the Angelique. The lieutenant commanding the cutter will be Keats. He should be up to it. Send him in, would you?”

  As Jared Watson left the cabin he smiled. Young Keats would be thrilled with his first command, of that there was no doubt.

  The acting Lieutenant was on deck. Watson sent him to see the Captain without comment or hint of the reason.

  “Ah, Keats. David, is it not?”

  “Yes, sir.” Keats stood at attention, swaying to the motion of the ship.

  “Sit down, David. This will not take long. I will call you again with the others, but first I am putting you in command of a captured cutter. She will be used in the cutting out expedition that we are planning for Roscoff harbour. You will need to tow boats from the other ships to the harbour before detaching and cutting out the east Indiaman, the Harlech Castle, which is hopefully within the harbour still. If it is not, then you will be called upon to assist the other parties as and where necessary. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Off you go then and collect your command, Call upon the flagship to take on men.”

  “Yes, sir.” The Acting Lieutenant stumbled from the cabin and ran to the gunroom to collect his sword and pistols, before reporting to the First Lieutenant to be given a boat to access his new command bobbing along beside the flagship. Once aboard, David Keats, with a twenty man crew at his disposal, set sail for the Isle de Batz, instructed to take the inside passage between the Isle and the mainland and reconnoitre the harbour, noting the position of the ships there, and any signs of activity, without revealing their presence. The f
act that the cutter was recently captured from the French should prevent her raising the alarm. Her task was then to meet HMS Vixen, Boscombe and Pelican to the east of the Isle to take on an extra 40 men and take the boats in tow. The raiding party was commanded by Captain Hamilton of HMS Boscombe.

  ***

  The planning session was of necessity short. Time was the main factor. Provided the ships were in place by midnight, the actual raid would commence with boarding the ships, by 2.00 am. If this could be accomplished quietly the chances were good for success. Lieutenant Brooks was in command of the attack on the second frigate, Lieutenant Keats the Indiaman.

  The cutter could crowd sixty men on board. This would reduce the weight of the towed boats. Keat’s 20 man party for the Indiaman, plus 10 men from each of the other boats, towed the balance of the raiders spread among the other boats. Inside the harbour the extra men in the cutter would be transferred to the towed craft to make their way to their target ships.

  Chapter 5

  The raiders

  The Angelique sailed well. Her fore and aft rig enabled her to sail close to the wind and David Keats delighted in the feel of the lively craft. Having learned to sail a small boat from his home in St Mawes, Cornwall, sailing his present command was just like a bigger version of that 12 foot dinghy. The midshipman from Pelican, Michael Lewis, in charge of the extra men on board, stood with Keats as he watched the bo’sun’s mate calling for the big mainsail to be tweaked to stop the leech fluttering. Keats smiled. “Well, Mr. Lewis. What do you say? She is a true sailor, is she not?”

  “She certainly is, sir. We must be better than ten knots, I would think.”

  Keats shrugged, “Bo’sun, stream the log, let us see just what we are making.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  The next few minutes passed as they waited for the call. Then the cry, “Eleven knots and a half, sir, twelve knots and holding.” The west-country burr of the Bo ‘sun’s mate was loud and clear.