While his men were busy retrieving them, a delegation of civilians came down to the beach. Midshipman Mullins was brought ashore to speak to them. He reported, “Sir, the soldiers appropriated their oxen to use for rations. They want the cattle that are still alive back.”
His bosun had already reported they needed some draft animals to move the guns. Phillips knew there were half a dozen bullocks in a pen in the camp, but had no notion of working them. He told Mullins the locals could have the cattle, if they could get them to move the guns onto the barge.
The locals were concerned because the cattle had not been fed and would be weak from hunger, so he ordered a hundred pounds of biscuit brought ashore and given to the cattle. Once the first of the suspicious bullocks sampled the strange biscuit, the rest went after it like starving wolves.
While the trench was being excavated, another party went to the marsh where the barge had been abandoned. Its gunnels were about even with the top of the water, but a portable pump was brought to the site and men sent to work pumping.
At first, it seemed water slopped over the gunnels back into the boat as fast as it was removed, but after some men set to work baling with buckets also, the crew started making some headway. The water level in the barge soon began to drop rapidly. Presently, it was necessary to scoop out the foot of mud that filled the bottom of the boat.
The boat finally began to float. Its oars could not be found, so the Exeter’s launch tied onto it and towed it to the dugout portion of the causeway where it was manhandled into position. The big twelve pounder cannons were on carriages, so locals quickly hooked two span of oxen to a gun and hauled it to the tripod, which had been assembled so it straddled the trench. Then, the oxen were brought around to the cable running to the big block at the apex of the tripod. The last pair of oxen was hooked on and all were set to pull. With six animals pulling, the big gun slowly lifted off its carriage and violently swung out over the barge underneath.
The animals were slowly backed until the gun settled into the barge. Crew members pushed the now empty carriage away and the cattle were led around to bring another gun around.
By the time all the guns were on the barge, it had very little freeboard. The gunnels were within inches of the water. After the locals were told they could take the cattle and anything else they wanted from the battery, they swarmed over it like ants, hauling away anything they could carry.
While they were doing this, seamen were tearing up the causeway, piling up the wood under the tripod. Adding anything else that was flammable, including the empty gun carriages, a puncheon of oil found in the cook shack was broached and the fluid spread liberally over the pile. Lieutenant Marshall took a spare blue light and placed it under the oil soaked material.
The bagged powder charges from the magazine were removed and sent aboard both Bulldog and Exeter. This powder could be re-bagged and used for practice ammunition in the future, without having to account for it.
When the incendiaries under the pyre were lit, the blue flames flashed through the pile of material and it was fully engulfed in a moment. Phillips had warned the locals that troops could be expected to arrive at any moment, so they took their spoils and left.
With the locals gone, Phillips ordered the launch to tow the barge into the bay. He pointed out the area he wanted to sink the boat to the coxswain. He advised him to have his men row easy, since it would be easy for water to slop over into the boat and sink it. He made sure the cox’n had a sharp axe with him to cut the line, since if the barge went down it was liable to take the launch with it.
The crew of the launch with some effort got the barge moving. The carpenter went along in the launch with an auger, but it was not necessary. The barge travelled safely enough in the calm water of the bay, but as soon as they reached open water, the sea began slopping over into the barge. The cox’n immediately started chopping at the cable with the axe and just as it parted, the barge’s gunnels dipped below the surface and down it went. The cox’n let down a lead line to measure the depth at that point. Seven fathoms, over forty feet deep.
Phillips doubted any divers in the area would be able to descend to that depth and get a line on any of the guns. That would be if they knew where to find them. Phillips could see no sign of the locals. He was sure that none of them had seen the weapons sink. For all the enemy knew, maybe he had loaded the guns aboard ship and taken them away.
CHAPTER TEN
Fleur d’Orleans
Now, it was time to get away from the coast, before the wind shifted and pinned them there. Little Bulldog was first out of the harbor, signaling the way clear. Exeter weighed her anchor and sailed out into the sea with the offshore breeze. As the got out past the headland, Bulldog hoisted ‘Enemy in sight’, just as their own lookout shouted, “Sail off the starboard bow. Big corvette or maybe a frigate.”
A frigate it was, twenty eight guns in total. The British vessels would be taking a big chance were they to try to engage that ship. Her scantlings were much heavier than those of Exeter or Bulldog and her guns were probably larger. Phillips guessed twelve pounders. Exeter and Bulldog carried sixes, although Bulldog also carried a few 32 pounder carronades in forward and aft gun positions.
The frigate was heading straight toward the two British craft. She was now beating against the wind, just able to maintain her course, while Exeter and Bulldog were sailing large. In the enclosed waters, the pair would have to proceed past the broadsides of the frigate, not an appetizing choice. Phillips ordered the signal hoisted, ‘Form line astern’.
Bulldog backed her main topsail, slowing to let Exeter pull ahead. As the three ships converged, he told the master to handle the ship, so he could deal with the guns. He said, “I want you to swing us across her bows, so we can rake her.” Trusting that Drummond would follow him, he waited. As the frigate came up to them, her guns bristling, she could not fire yet, as she was bows on to Exeter. Phillips guessed she thought Exeter would try to slip by on the frigates starboard side and hoped to blow her to perdition with her broadside. Instead Avery turned the ship to starboard. Phillips ordered loudly, “When your gun bears, fire.”
He agonized for an instant that when he said the word ‘fire’, some blockhead might yank his lanyard immediately, but there was only quiet. The frigate’s yards started to swing around to match the sloop’s turn, but Exeter beat them to it. As her bow guns started to bear, they began to go off, one by one, the six pound iron balls ripping through the thin scantlings at the frigate’s bow and travelled the length of the ship, tearing and rending men, ship and equipment.
The enemy fired a broadside at Exeter, all her port side guns going off more or less at once, but much of it was wasted, many of the guns not bearing on their target. Looking back, he saw Bulldog had not been able to follow him around, holding on instead to cross the enemy’s stern, going right on past the now empty enemy guns. She took the opportunity to salute those impotent guns with her broadside.
Her six pounders did their share of damage, on top of the havoc the frigate had received from Exeter, but the carronades were especially devastating at such close range.
Bulldog’s petty officers harried the gun crews to hurry the reload, and most of the guns held a charge by the time the gunbrig rounded the frigate’s stern.
While savaging the enemy’s quarter with her broadside, one of her little six pound balls damaged the frigate’s sternpost and her rudder became jammed.
The frigate now being unable to steer, Exeter was able to take station across the bow of the frigate, pounding her with her guns, the shot again travelling the whole length of the ship. The Bulldog laid off the frigate’s quarter, smashing her after parts and preventing repair parties from mending the rudder.
Only the aftermost guns on the enemy’s port side could reach the brig and those guns were soon put out of action. The loads of grape from the carronades were especially effective in reducing the numbers of enemy crew upon the frigate’s deck. Soon the frigate�
�s bowsprit was shot away and then down came her fore topmast. When the whole foremast then fell, the action was nearly over.
Bulldog, still astern, began using grape and canister in all her guns and was now raining a storm of deadly death into the ship. After a final blast cleared the enemy quarterdeck, her flag came hesitantly down.
Phillips roared ‘Cease Fire” and after a couple of extra individual crashes, the carnage ended. He looked at Bulldog. Her mizzen was dangerously askew and blood was running from the scuppers. Exeter herself had men sprawled on the deck, dead or wounded and a twelve pound ball had dangerously weakened the foremast.
Much of the rigging had been damaged and the larboard shrouds for the mainmast had been badly damaged. He looked over the side; the launch which had been towing was still afloat. His cox’n was also still alive. Mister Braddock came up the hatchway with a bandaged arm, the remaining pieces of his shirt a mass of gore.
“Mister Ackroyd”, Phillips shouted to his signal officer. “Please take some seamen and the Marines and go over to the frigate and take possession. Take the boat crew aboard with you if necessary.” He sent Braddock below, again.
Hours of intense labor followed as the three ships were repaired enough to make them barely seaworthy. The crew of the frigate had been hurriedly run below, with boat guns aimed at the hatches. The foremast of the Exeter, as well as the mizzen of Bulldog had to be ‘fished’. Lengths of timber were lashed tightly to the masts and the bindings twisted taught. The standing rigging; stays and shrouds, had to be repaired or renewed.
The captured frigate needed to have a jury bowsprit and foremast rigged. The wounded crewmembers of Bulldog were suffering, as they had no doctor aboard. Midshipman Mullins found the captured prize, ‘Fleur d’Orleans’, had two surgeons mates aboard, in addition to her surgeon, so he ordered one of those mates to report aboard Bulldog, to see what he could do. With all the repairs they were able to perform with their men and materials, the little fleet set sail for Plymouth.
Closing the English coast, they fell in with a ’74 gun liner, also destined there. Her captain was so impressed with their feat that he loaned a hundred men, parceled among the three ships.
The “Fleur d’Orleans’ got the largest share since she had only a tiny prize crew aboard and a large number of enemy prisoners not at all happy about going into the hulks. Upon reaching port Phillips and Drummond were summoned immediately to the presence of the elated Vice Admiral Cosby.
That gentlemen, after first insisting upon a shot by shot commentary of the action, then ordered them into a post-chaise and sent them into London with a packet to take to the Admiralty. Cosby assured the captain’s promotions were probable for both Drummond and Phillips, if his recommendation carried any weight. Perhaps also for their first officers.
Reaching London, Phillips met with Admiral Howe, who praised his enterprise and initiative and was then sent to the waiting room to await orders. After an hour’s wait, an ancient lieutenant hobbled up to him on his wooden leg and handed him a packet.
The packet contained a commission appointing him to the command of “Vigorous’, a thirty two gunned frigate, now coming out of ordinary in Plymouth. With this commission, he was now a post captain, entitled to wear his swab on his right shoulder instead of the left.
Eventually, with the passage of time, he would be an admiral; should he live that long, of course.
He found he was authorized to take aboard the crew of Exeter, that ship being taken out of service for a much needed survey and repairs. He would be on his own however to fill out the remainder of his crew. He was pleased to find the first prize he had taken had been adjudicated and he now possessed a well filled purse.
It was true that most of the money he was handed was paper currency, which was taking the place of much of the specie throughout Britain but at least he could now afford cabin stores. With his new riches, he was concerned about highwaymen, so stopped by a gun maker and bought a pair of pistols.
He purchased an inside seat on the mail coach, but since the weather was fine and a female passenger inside seemed a twin of the one he had traveled to Portsmouth with weeks earlier, he elected to ride on top with the driver.
His sea chest was loaded up on the coach, but he needed to carry on his person the rifle the viscount had left for him to look after. A cursory search had failed to locate a relative he could delegate the weapon to.
The driver eyed his weapon and his heavy coat pockets. “Always glad to have a well-armed gentleman aboard sir, but you won’t have to use the guns this trip. With the hot press the navy has out, all the highwaymen are running for cover.”
Halfway to Portsmouth, Phillips realized he had better change to the insignia of a post captain rather than that a mere commander. He removed his coat and switched his epaulette from the left shoulder to the right. Now he was correct.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HMS Vigorous
In Portsmouth, Phillips first went to the naval outfitter he had obtained his provisions from earlier and made arrangements for cabin stores and other necessities. They were able to tell him right where the ship was anchored. He hired a wherry to take him out to the Vigorous. He was challenged properly by the anchor watch and was met by the carpenter and bosun.
These worthies said the ship had recently been pulled from the mud berth she had rested in for the past decade and had her new copper installed, before being towed out into the harbor. Just to make matters official, Phillips read himself in to the few men aboard.
Deciding his first need was to get some men, he hired a boat to take him to the receiving ship. An elderly lieutenant commanded the ship itself, but the hands on board that he needed were under the control of an officer of the Impress Service. This man agreed to furnish him with one hundred thirty men, supposedly from his old crew on the Exeter, but when they were brought up on deck, he found most were old, decrepit, lame or ruptured. None of them he had ever seen before.
Tearing Howe’s order from the man’s hand, Phillips made for the entry port without further ceremony. The lieutenant followed, protesting he needed the order in order to send him his men.
Phillips answered, “The men you are offering me are not my men. I see that I need to see the Port Admiral to obtain my people.”
Admitting the possibility of a mistake, the officer agreed to allow Phillips to search the ship for his crewmen. After a half hour of searching and finding nobody he recognized, he heard a voice, “Captain Phillips, sir.”
Turning, he saw one of his old surgeon’s loblolly boys, a ruptured former topman.
“Sir, I know where your men are.” After questioning the man, he discovered his seamen were ashore in a warehouse, guarded by a detachment of militia. The Impress officer was making extra money selling able seamen to desperate captains. Loosening the pistols in his pockets, he ordered the man, “Come with me.”
His hired boat had left, but a ship’s boat transporting a midshipman from a nearby ’74 had just hooked on at a larboard entry port. He politely asked the youngster if he could borrow the boat to carry him to the shore. The mid had been given strict instructions to let none of the boat crew out of his sight, but on the other hand, this was a god-like post captain with a reasonable request. Inspirationally, he offered, “Sir, I’d be glad to transport you ashore.” On the way ashore, the loblolly boy pointed out the warehouse his men were housed in.
“Sir, all the able bodied seamen are housed here. That Impress Service officer sells ‘em to any ship that will pay. All the sick, lame and ruptured, as well as the quota men are housed on the receiving ship to palm off on ships that can’t or won’t pay.
Straining his brain, Phillips finally remembered the man’s name. “Harkins, what about you. I know you are ruptured, but I remember you as a mighty valuable man. You certainly are not required to go back to sea, but I’d be glad to have you if you want.”
By the time the boat reached the row of warehouses on shore, it was established Harkins woul
d like to go to sea with his captain. He had earned some prize money on the last voyage and the prospects of earning more seemed excellent. The work he did as loblolly boy was light compared with what he might need to do ashore.
On the beach, they climbed the stone steps to the warehouse, finding it locked with armed sentries patrolling their posts on all sides of the building. A group of soldiers off duty were gathered around a fire in from of the warehouse, with a cornet of about sixteen years seemingly in charge. He came forward and saluted, awestruck at Phillips uniform.
Phillips was not cognizant of the boy’s rank or uniform himself, so merely said, “Sir, I need to retrieve some of my men who I understand are in that warehouse under your care.”
“Sir”, offered the lad, “Those are Lieutenant Hanford’s men and can’t be released without an order from him.”
“Lad, as you see, I am of superior rank to your Lieutenant Hanford and besides I carry an order from Vice Admiral Howe for these men. I hope you are not going to try to prevent me from collecting them.”
The Cornet decided the matter was too far above his position for him to reconcile, so ordered a soldier to take him to his captain. The captain, even more impressed with the order from Howe than the cornet had been, ordered a servant to have horses brought up and told Phillips the colonel was at a party at the George Inn and he would take him there himself.
Now, Phillips had ridden before, but not well and not often. He clambered aboard though and followed the officer. The captain, recognizing the naval officer’s lack of confidence, kept to a walk.
They reined in at an imposing inn and entered. Inside were military officers of the army and navy. Among the party was a gaudily uniformed militia colonel dripping with gold lace. The captain approached him and explained. The colonel said, “Order from Admiral Howe, you say? Let us see.”
On the King's Sea Service: A John Phillips Novel (War at Sea Book 1) Page 8
