The Odd-Job Man (The Duty and Destiny Series, Book 7)

by Andrew Wareham

"The younger son of Lord Strachan, a minor Scots baron. One brother, no sisters, and he came into his mother's portion in the ordinary way of things - a few hundreds of acres of hills not so far from Glasgow. Iron ore at one end of the land and a coal deposit found at the other! Rich as Croesus as a result! Far outstrips his noble brother in wealth, which has led to a degree of annoyance, one gathers. Mr Dench is his own younger son, making a career for himself, which is to be applauded, but inclined to be a fraction too aware that if he should be court-martialled and dismissed the service he will nonetheless avoid destitution."

  "So... bright but wild and with just a touch of irresponsibility about him. If he can be tamed, then he will be the most valuable of officers. If he cannot, then he may well kill himself and his crew, and let the rest of us down. I shall speak to the young man."

  Bluenose schooner shone for inspection, polished and pretty and with extra money spent from the captain’s pocket, the men being dressed in warm and strong jean-cloth, far better than the purser’s slop chest would generally provide.

  "So, Mr Dench, you have your command in exceptionally good condition, sir. How many men have you in the crew?"

  "One master's mate, sir, and a midshipman who is to face his Board as soon as one sits. A boatswain's mate and twelve seamen, sir, and a cook and a boy."

  "Seventeen, all told - could you find a gun's crew from so few?"

  "It could be done, sir, given a single gun captain to act as gunner as well."

  "Perhaps. Where do you propose to mount your chaser, Mr Dench?"

  Dench pointed from his place by the tiller, his quarterdeck, to the bows some twelve paces distant.

  "It would take a very few hours for the Carpenter from Acheron to cut a pair of ports, to either side of the bows, sir, the gun to sit centrally and be run out as needed, port or starboard, sir."

  "I have seen such an arrangement for a long nine thirty-two pounder. It is not in itself an innovation, I will admit... Ringbolts where, sir?"

  Dench pointed mutely.

  "A four-pounder, perhaps... I will send my Gunner and Carpenter to you, Mr Dench, to examine the possibilities further. I believe it may be done. If they agree then I must speak beguilingly to the Master Intendant of the Artillery Park; indeed, I may well find it obligatory on me to grovel before him if I am to wheedle a cannon from his grasp."

  Dench seemed nervous of a sudden, shook his head as he sought the correct words.

  "Ah... in fact, sir... that is to say, sir, that it may not be so demanding a task, sir..."

  "And why is that, pray, Mr Dench?"

  It was in fact quite obvious that the rich young man had put his hand in his pocket already.

  "Ah, in fact, sir... well, I have spoken to the Master Intendant myself, sir, just in case, that is."

  "Just the least fraction presumptuous, Mr Dench?"

  "Yes, sir."

  He had the sense, and good manners, to make no attempt to defend his actions, which were in any case only a little beyond the line of what was pleasing.

  "And has he a long four-pounder to hand, Mr Dench?"

  "He has an old but beautifully straight-bored brass gun, sir. Out of date and cannot be issued, sir, but a handsome piece in its way. The problem is, sir, that it is in fact of six rather than four pounds."

  The young man was definitely in need of slapping down, but this was not the time to do so. A four was not a great deal of value as a chaser while a six could be far more effective, particularly in terms of its carry; a six would do damage at five or six cables while a four was useful at no more than half that.

  "Let it be so, Mr Dench, provided only that my people give their honest and uninfluenced approval. What have you in the way of swivels, sir?"

  "All are kept dry below decks, sir, being so quick and simple to mount. I have six of two pounds, sir."

  "Sensible of you to keep them covered, Mr Dench. I shall see what else may be found in the way of small arms for you."

  "Thank you, sir. For a gun captain, sir... my servant on Minotaur, sir, was old but knew his guns still and could do the job, though hardly able to pull his weight on a twenty-four or thirty-two pounder. My captain, sir, Mr Passingham, had invited me to make Black my follower, sir."

  "In Portsmouth now?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Do so. Send your mid across, if you will, Mr Dench. I would wish you to take a stroll along the hard with me, if you would be so kind."

  On so small a vessel it was impossible to find privacy. Every word would be overheard, and it would not be good for discipline for the men to giggle as their captain was hauled over the coals.

  Dench was awake to Fredericks's reason for wishing to take a walk at a safe distance from earshot.

  "It will be my pleasure, sir," he lied.

  "I am a friend to initiative in young men, Mr Dench. I have no desire the crush the spirit of any officer, let that be understood. But I will have obedience, sir! I shall give you orders and will absolutely demand that you comply with them. If the situation changes when you are out of my sight, as you very frequently will be, then you will act as possible to carry out the task I have given you. That may, probably will, demand a modification of the instructions given you - but it will be to carry out my commands more efficiently, not to go haring off after a fat merchantman or to poke your nose into a likely bay that might have a vessel sheltering in it!"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Of difficulty to you will be that I will on occasion instruct you to behave as if you were carrying despatches."

  A despatch carrier must not hazard herself; she must actively avoid action, even with a vessel of lesser power than herself.

  "I may need you to scout out a particular bay or harbour and to return with that information regardless of all else. You will do so, on pain of a court, sir. As the men say, 'like it or lump it', this is what you must do. I have known despatch carriers to pass by a ship drifting onto rocks and to make no attempt at rescue - and be applauded for having the courage and steadfastness to do so. You understand me?"

  "I do, sir, but I do not know that I have that degree of dedication in me, sir."

  "Then you will find it, Mr Dench. It must be so."

  It was much to demand of a boy not yet in his twenties - but if he could not grow up quickly he had no business being in command, even of a cockleshell.

  "Aye aye, sir."

  Acceptance of his words as an order; it was a start.

  "I will say to you, as to every other of my officers, that I will do my very best for you, if you will work for me. I have reached my rank young, Mr Dench, and I am much in favour of other men doing the same."

  "Yes, sir." Dench looked more hopeful at that.

  "Now, Mr Dench, I will wish you to sail first, before the squadron by some hours because I want you to make a westing, to act as a longstop, as the cricketing folk insist on saying. I will explain what I have in mind..."

  The brigs were of much the same size, some one hundred and fifty tons, but each was of different age and experience. Two, Caldecott and Chichester, had been hard-used for many years and needed to be nursed and gentled to their duty while Mary had been launched within the twelvemonth. Horrocks' Pride of Lyme was no more than five years old and had been used only on the Irish Sea trade, but she was in poor condition even so, her captain unable, or uninterested, in keeping her up to scratch.

  There was little point in abusing Horrocks, much though he deserved to be shaken up. He was incapable and was also in a position of privilege. Frederick decided to ensure that the Major commanding the Marines should sail aboard her; that should make the young man's life far less comfortable.

  He called the four captains together, asked for their best speeds.

  "Six knots on a wind, sir," was the general reply, though Fisher of the Mary said that he had managed eight in her once, wind and tide both in favour.

  "So be it, gentlemen. You will all have extra pulling boats to tow behind. You must not lose them and will wish
to set the Marines into the habit of manning their oars."

  They accepted the order, frowning as they realised what would be demanded of them.

  They left Portsmouth early on the Friday, using the morning tide and achieving some degree of uniformity of line and bearing. They looked as if they knew their business. Frederick gave orders to work their way to the west, hoping that Captain Murray had known what he was doing.

  If this first operation achieved nothing he would seem very silly.

  Dawn saw them off the Dorset coast and making a show of passing to the west, their little convoy on its way to Plymouth in all probability.

  "They will be watching from the shore and will keep an eye on us, gentlemen."

  Frederick sounded quietly confident. He turned to Hirst, his new master.

  "You have the feel of her, Mr Hirst? I wish to be off the bay here just before midnight, leading the brigs in to make their landing from no more than three cables offshore."

  "That can be done, sir. The wind is set fair, won't be changing for this next day and more from what the old barometer says, sir. Just right for they unhandy old merchant tubs, sir. I can 'ave us all just within half a cable of where we are now, sir."

  He seemed competent; if he was boasting then all would fail.

  Frederick turned to the signals midshipman.

  "Mr Horner, captains of Robin and Señora to report to me, if you please."

  The pendant numbers rose instantly; he had them in his memory. The three flags for captains to Commodore followed within seconds, remained for half of a minute and were lowered as the executive. Horner left them still bent on, in case he had to repeat the order. He watched through his large telescope.

  "Acknowledged, sir. Boat leaving Robin. Boat from Señora, sir."

  Very quick, both captains had their men well-trained.

  "Mr Ross, you are senior to Mr Webb, I believe?"

  The two had not established their dates; the need had not occurred to them. Quick conference confirmed that Ross was a year older in the rank.

  "Always necessary to know who gives the orders, gentlemen! Now, I hope to return to discover a pair of luggers offshore and busily sending brandy and lace and wines ashore. Smugglers, obviously enough. You will take them if they are present. All men to be pressed, only their captains to remain with them to be tried and hanged. We need the crewmen, gentlemen - they are generally the best of sailors and could provide the squadron with a score and more of able-bodied seamen."

  Both sloops were short of men and could make use of a couple of mature seamen as their share of the haul.

  "The Marines will land east and west of the bay and will make their way down to the beach to pick up the land smugglers. The word I have is of the better part of fifty labourers and as many as one hundred of pack ponies with a dozen of horse-handlers. Should they be taken, as I hope, then we will have done some good to our problem of men and will pick up a few guineas to share as well!"

  They realised that their sloops were the key to the night’s success.

  Acheron fired a rocket at midnight exactly, signalling commencement of the operation. Robin and Señora had glided inshore under reefed mainsail, silhouettes reduced to the minimum, closing at a crawl on the just visible luggers. They fired single shots, carefully aimed by their best gun crews, splashes arising yards from the bows of the smugglers, their first intimation of anything gone astray. Frederick ordered the lanterns to be lit on Acheron, announcing to the anchored, half unloaded smugglers the presence of a ship closing the door to the bay. Neither of the luggers attempted to run or fight; they were professional seamen, knew that there were broadsides waiting and that the navy would not miss; better to risk trial and the possibility of hanging than the near-certainty of drowning in the dark.

  There were shouts and a few shots ashore, warning fire from the companies of Marines holding a closed perimeter just inland of the beach.

  "Now for the fun, Mr Gentry! There will be the better part of two hundred casks of brandy over there, and the next job is to keep the Marines and the seamen sober!"

  Frederick took a boat ashore, guided by a pair of fires newly lit. The Major of Marines marched across and saluted him.

  “Major Campbell! Is all well, sir?”

  “It is indeed, Sir Frederick. I thought it best to cast some light on the scene, sir. One of my young men has platoons collecting dry wood now and we shall have another pair of fires lit a little further back from the tideline, sir. The run goods are then to be put together where they can be watched.”

  “Very wise, Major! How many men have you taken, sir?”

  “Forty-three of labourers in smocks, sir. Fifteen of horse-holders in breeches and another six who appear to be guards by function – all had fowling pieces and carried ball as well as shot.”

  Those last men could be the cause of a problem. The cargo would have to be given into the care of the Revenue men, who must be informed of the business, in good time. The Revenuers would want some prisoners as well, and would charge men caught under arms with capital offences, certainly to see them hanged. Frederick did not want to waste six men who could be useful aboard ship.

  “What of master smugglers, sir? Are there any of those?”

  “Two who were leading horses rather than pack-ponies, sir. They were in possession of pistols and pointed them at my men.”

  “Oh, dear! How foolish of them. Where have you put the bodies?”

  “In the lee of the dunes behind us, sir. With a sentry on them.”

  “Very good, sir. They must be given into the hands of the Revenue men when they arrive.”

  Dead smugglers would be just as valuable as live when it came to a court – easier to deal with as well, for not needing more than the attentions of a coroner.

  “Escort the prisoners aboard Acheron, if you would be so good, sir. What of the ponies? How many are there of them?”

  “Twenty-three of riding horses, sir, all except two no more than farmers’ cobs. More than two hundred of ponies, each with a pack-saddle. I can find horsemen among my men, sir, most of them come from the countryside. In the morning we can load up and lead the pack train to the nearest town where there is a Revenue Office.”

  “Bridport would be best, Major Campbell. It is the victualling port for the blockading fleet and there will be men and warehouse space there. Not more than three hours from here, walking the beasts, and providing a parade through the villages for them all to see and take notice of.”

  “Yes indeed, sir, a valuable lesson.”

  “It will be… All of your men as escort, I believe. There is to be no nonsense from the locals!”

  Many of the local farmers would recognise their own horses, and more of the merchant community would be ruing the loss of their pack animals. They should not be permitted to attempt to recover them.

  Frederick wondered what the ruling would be on prize-money in this instance. Were smuggled goods taken on shore to be confiscated by the Crown, treated in effect as Droits of Admiralty, or were they to be auctioned off for the benefit of the captors? He would send a letter to his lawyer, Stainer, just to examine the possibilities. The two luggers and the few tons remaining aboard would certainly come in as prize, but not any huge amount when spread between the whole squadron.

  “Not to worry! The main aim was to obtain hands and there will be nearly one hundred of them to be put to good use!”

  Major Campbell agreed – they had had a very successful night.

  The pack train was loaded and set out for Bridport under its escort and the squadron took its two captures along the coast, anchoring offshore with a flourish, cheering each other happily.

  Frederick went ashore, found the Revenue Office, a group of sour-faced gentlemen outside it, peering through telescopes. They did not seem at all pleased at the successful apprehension of a major smuggling gang.

  Ablett whispered quietly at his shoulder that they probably feared that they would have to return their bribes – n
ot a desirable prospect!

  Frederick had not considered that point, began to grin. He about-faced and made his way to the Magistrates Court Rooms where he obtained the direction of the Chairman of the Bench. He returned with the senior magistrate in his company, grave-faced and determined to do his duty; a running boy was sent to find the Sheriff’s Officer.

  When the pack ponies arrived with their escort of Marines and tail of onlookers all was ready.

  While the Revenue men watched silently the ponies were counted in and their loads were tallied by magistrate and Sheriff’s man together. The pound for strays was far too small for the purpose and the livestock were led away to the paddocks on the magistrate’s own estate, to be held under guard until they could be officially condemned and sent to auction. The masters of the two luggers were brought ashore and put into the cell of the Roundhouse to await the pleasure of the magistrates.

  “Assizes sit at Dorchester in three weeks, Sir Frederick. We shall remand them there for trial. The Sheriff himself must be informed of the goods captured and will take the action needed on them. An excellent day’s work, sir!”

  The Port-Captain at Bridport had no facilities for dealing with taken prizes – his sole function was to ensure that water and provisions were always to hand for blockaders driven in to shelter from Biscay storms. Blackbird was sent off to Portsmouth, easier to reach with the prevailing wind than Plymouth which was closer, with the pair of luggers, under orders to pick up the tiny prize crews and instantly return with them; it was a task she was suited to, would perform competently.

  The squadron’s boats turned to embarking the Marines from the shore, each company to go to the correct brig with a minimum waste of time. It took more than two hours, working off a friendly beach in broad daylight.

  “How long would it be at night and under fire, Major Campbell?”

  “Off a quay, sir, in calm weather and with the advantage of some moonlight… not quicker than this, sir. From a beach with a wind blowing onshore and clouds as well… I would be pleased to do the job in four hours, and amazed if some of the boats were not overset and men drowned.”