Frederick made his inspection of the guns as soon as the ship had secured from harbour and was on course under the suit of sails the master found desirable. He had spent some minutes discussing the handling of the old ship and had discovered her to be ‘very quick and surprising nimble in the stays’ and that, all things considered, she was in good condition.
The guns were perhaps a different matter, the lower tier, the twenty-fours, being old and towards the end of their existence
The Gunner had little that was good to say of the main battery – their touch-holes were worn and their bores had never been particularly straight, as was generally the case in guns of their generation.
“At two cables, sir, they will hit home, but they tends to wander a bit when you talks of four, and at six or more – well, sir, was I bombarding a city I would reckon to hit her, but for anything much smaller ‘twould be more luck than judgement.”
“What of the upper tier?”
“Eighteens, and far newer, being as ‘ow they was all replaced not two years since. Fourteen of they on a side and very ‘andsome, too. Clusters up very tidy at six cables, sir.”
“And the gun crews themselves?”
“They ain’t touched ‘em except to stick blackleading on the barrels since the captain up and died, sir, and barely once a month before ‘and, sir.”
“They will have to learn their trade again, it would seem. Starting today.”
“Powder bags all made up, sir, and ready.”
“Good. What of the carronades? They are of a good size, I see.”
“Sixty-fours, sir, two on either beam, the captain prior to the last being a man with great respect for they and managing to work they out of the yard in Port Royal after they did not suit the fancy of the admiral for his flagship at the time.”
“Two smallish chasers, I see.”
“Brass long twelves, sir – beautiful in the bore, sir, hit a cocked hat at six cables, sir.”
“Swivels as well, I presume?”
“One and two-pounds, sir, in the tops.”
“What of the boats?”
“Well, sir, they was a bit of a problem, one might say, being as ‘ow they got lost, sort of thing, you might say, sir.”
“The boats, or the guns, Master Gunner?”
“Well, sir, it was all a bit awkward, like, seein’ as ‘ow the ships what was in harbour at Port Royal was by way of ‘aving a bit of a regatta like, and the boats was all going at it in pulling races, and, as might go without sayin’, sir, they ‘ad all landed they’s guns, to save the weight. Then the signal station down at the point puts up ‘enemy in sight’, sir, and all they boats is ‘eading back to they own ships even faster than they was racin’ each other and a right bloody shambles that were too, sir, what wi’ none of they givin’ way to any! Any’ow, sir, it’s tie ‘em on and out of harbour and chasing down the wind like and damned near all the way to Antigua before it’s over, and we never did put back to Port Royal, sir, to pick up they boat guns.”
“No boat guns? None at all?”
The Gunner shook his head.
“Has the Ordnance Wharf in Gibraltar anything to spare?”
“Dunno, sir. Mr Martindale told I not to waste ‘is bloody time with ‘stupid, soddin’ guns’, sir.”
“I shall do what I can when we return to Gib; twelve pound carronades would be best, no doubt.”
The men were willing, surprisingly so, but they were sadly out of practice, had been so long out of the habit of working the guns that they had to think of what they were doing.
“Dumbshow for an hour after dinner, Mr Gentry, and then we shall fire live again later. I expect to be using the guns within a week – and this will never do at the moment.”
“Boatswain!”
He was working with a party on the starboard gangway, abaft the mainmast, scraping and painting afresh where the timber was showing wear. He stood to join Frederick on the quarterdeck.
“No, stay there, only a minor matter. When did the ship last see its pay-tickets? I cannot discover an entry in the recent logs.”
“Twenty three months and two weeks since, sir.”
Frederick shook his head in simulated amaze.
“I will speak to the master and the purser, at soonest.”
He turned to the boy who was acting as his messenger.
“Purser to me, please.”
The watch on deck, none of whom had any right to eavesdrop on the captain’s words, nudged each other and exchanged quiet smiles; they would have money in their pockets again, and most of them knew exactly how they intended to spend it. Discussion on the mess-decks that night was monopolised by the men who had taken a shore-leave in Gibraltar in past commissions and who could act as guides to those parts of the town hospitable to seamen.
Speed and accuracy with the guns improved dramatically next day.
“What can you tell me of the master’s mates, Oates? Particularly as regards the possibility of making one acting-Fourth. I must also beg another man of the Admiral on our return to Gib.”
“We have only ever had the three lieutenants, sir, since I have been aboard, due to the Admiral in Port Royal saying we was not to stand in the line no more and no longer had the need.”
“There is a probability of boat work, Mr Oates, and a certainty of convoys to Malta and the Eastern Mediterranean, as well as the protection of the stores working to the Mediterranean Fleet. Keeping off a dozen of Barbary pirates may mean fighting both sides and firing by section as well – an extra lieutenant will be very useful!”
“Yes, sir. Master’s mates, sir, we have a pair, both passed their Board, sir. Weare is only twenty and is capable of wearing his hat, sir; Truckle is past thirty, sir, and is just able to do his job, through experience at it.”
“Thank you, Mr Oates. I will speak to Mr Weare, I think. Is there anything I should know about him first?”
“No, sir, a very ordinary sort of man, except that he has a flute, sir.”
“Well… many officers play an instrument, Mr Oates. It is not at all uncommon.”
“Very true, sir, but I believe it would be not unfair to suggest that he has more of ambition than of musical talent, sir.”
“Ah! Suggest to him, tactfully, that he might wish to practice in the fighting tops when off-watch. Foretop, perhaps.”
A day of driving Euripides, tacking often so as to avoid being forced too far to the north, and the wind eased and veered more into the east and they were able to achieve something of a southing. Three more days and the wind dropped to the merest zephyr and that from the north and they displayed a full suit and finally came onto a direct course for their hoped-for interception of the convoy’s track.
“Nearly six hundred miles logged and perhaps fifty miles gained towards our destination, Mr Gentry. The sea can be very irritating on occasion.”
“Yes, sir. What is our actual plan, sir, begging your pardon?”
“Assume that they sailed on the date that was expected of them, which will be yesterday. A slow convoy, possibly four knots made good. Perhaps one hundred miles north and a little east of Ceuta. The expectation was that they would leave the North African coast far behind before they made direct course to their rendezvous with the Fleet, which is, or might well be, at Naples.”
“So, sir, we seek to find them at or near that point. Failing, sir, we search where?”
“Towards Tetuan first. Finding the port empty we take course for Naples, south about Sicily.”
“That leaves rather a large expanse of sea to examine, sir.”
“It does, of course – a wholly impossible task but one we must spend a few days on. Failing to locate them, we return to Gibraltar, hoping that they may have reached home unmolested.”
Gentry did not seem very hopeful, was sure that they would be blamed whatever happened.
“I intend to make the master’s mate Weare, Mr Gentry. Acting, of course, but I would expect the Admiral to be willing to produce a commission
for him. That will promote Doolan to Third, inevitably – which is a very quick step up the ladder for him.”
“He knows the work, sir. He could have taken a commission any time these five years, sir. Mr Weare is younger than Doolan, which helps. I will stand a watch or two with him until I am sure of him, sir, but he looks competent – he stands confidently, which always a good thing. Rather difficult, having made a clean sweep of the wardroom, but at least Weare will not be working with officers who remember him as a warrant.”
Weare was pleased to step up to commission rank, appeared within the hour of his promotion in a serviceable uniform, having, he bashfully admitted, bought a coat here and a pair of trousers there in Port Royal, where the fever produced frequent masthead sales of dead officers’ effects, in the hope that one day, just possibly…
“Nothing wrong with ambition, Mr Weare! I will support you in your attempts to better yourself, never doubt that, sir!”
The convoy had left on its day, had been shadowed from the outset, one or more small and fast boats almost at the limit of visibility watching their every move. The escort commander had insisted that the merchantmen huddle together but feared that he might have done no more than offer an easier target; he was very pleased to welcome another ship, particularly a two-decker containing an officer senior to him who would take the burden to himself. He was especially delighted to come aboard Euripides and discover Frederick waiting to welcome him.
“Good Lord! Mr Arkwright, and a Master and Commander as well! How do you do, sir?”
Arkwright was well and his career had never looked back since he had fought at Sir Frederick’s side.
“Well, sir, not so much at your side as behind you, having to run to keep up, sir!”
It all helped – the hands were listening and would add a little more to the stories they already knew, would be proud that they had been chosen to follow a fighting captain.
“Now, Mr Arkwright, what of the convoy?”
“Two ships, sir, slow but big – five hundred tonners or thereabouts. They take the bulk of the kine on their decks, sir, and their holds carry the fodder for them as well as the foodstuffs less likely to spoil. Onions and sacks of potatoes, sir, being as the Irish hands do love to eat a spud now and then to remind them of home. The flour is all on the smaller ships, sir, seven of them, one and two hundred tonners and mostly Mediterranean rigs. Not a cannon between them, sir, and precious few of muskets and scatter guns. I’ve got my Hawk, sir, sixteen gun, sir, six pounders only, but a pair of carronades as well and a chase gun besides. As well as that there is Harriet, sir, the brig, and she has a mixture of cannon, sir, gathered together promiscuous here and there – a pair of nine-pounders and four of six on the broadside and a long four pounder for a chase gun and a little French mortar tucked behind the railings at the stern that fires a twelve pound explosive shell. They have a score of bombs for it – she was at Toulon, sir, and became a fraction careless with the captured French arsenal, had to leave before they could take any more. Her captain – no more than a lieutenant in fact - says the mortar will come in handy one day when they have a battery to attack.”
“One day, perhaps, Arkwright! For the while, you bring up the rear and Harriet can have the van and I shall stay out to windward. Warn the masters of the convoy that if they come under attack I shall bring Euripides into their midst and they will have to get out of my way. Leave a distance between ships, if you would be so good.”
Arkwright left for his sloop and Frederick brought the officers and the master together on the quarterdeck to inform them of his intentions.
“Mr Arkwright thinks the vessel out yonder, watching the convoy, is an Algerine felucca; there were two originally, so one has returned for assistance. Apparently they will rarely attack at night, but may be expected to pay us a visit at dawn. The Algerines have a number of sailing xebecs and one or two taken European ships which are used as corsairs; they are their larger vessels, but the less to be feared as they, like us, depend on the wind - the same wind as us. A broadside at four cables will solve their problems for them! They will have rowing galleys and what was used to be called galleasses or half-galleys; they may carry two or three large guns in their bows – twenty-four pounders not unheard of – and can row onto our stern, will certainly try to do so. Swift tacking and accurate fire by sections will settle their hash. If possible, we shall run them over, swamp them under our bows.”
“What of the slaves at the oars, sir?”
“If we can rescue them, we shall. Most we shall kill, I fear. The convoy must come first.”
The slaves would be Christians, taken merchant seamen or fisherfolk from the Italian coast.
“The men will not like that, sir.”
“They should not, Mr Gentry. I do not like it. I shall take pains to rescue none of the slave-takers before the slaves themselves are all secured. I am told, by the way, that the Moors are fearsome fighters at hand-to-hand and we should kill them at distance if at all possible.”
“My Marines are commonly respected when it comes to the melee, sir.”
“They are indeed, Captain Thomas. I have recently had the privilege of conveying four companies of Marines into a French harbour where there were invasion craft and rations to destroy and I saw at first hand just what they could do.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Thomas evidently believed he had been complimented, which was true enough, Frederick supposed; pinch one Marine and they all squealed.
“Now, to immediate business. Captain Arkwright is to make an attempt on the felucca during the night. Should he succeed then he will lay the convoy on the larboard tack and make a westing towards Gibraltar. It will make a small difference to the position in the morning, perhaps sufficient to separate the galleys from the sailing vessels for an hour or two, which will be to our advantage. We shall clear for action at sunset and the men will sleep at the guns. No watches tonight, but one man in four to be awake at all times, thus to give them the chance to be rested before a running fight – we might be busy for two or three days unbroken.
The galley fire will be lit during the graveyard watch and the men will breakfast and there will be cocoa at eight bells, after which the fires will be extinguished. The purser will ensure that biscuits and cheese are to hand during daylight hours. The men must eat.”
“All guns loaded, all men ready for first light, sir?”
“Yes, Mr Gentry. If we have company then we shall make no further plans – all will be as it eventuates. If the sea is empty then light the fires and normal morning routine.”
“Beg pardon, sir. Chaplain requesting permission, sir.”
The Marine sentry was perfectly polite and his voice had no edge, but his opinion of the chaplain was quite obvious. Frederick decided that he perhaps had a satirical eyebrow cocked.
“Of course. Please to allow the gentleman entry.”
A damned nuisance as Bosomtwi was just in process of making a pot of coffee and he would have to share it; a waste of good coffee – but perhaps the reverend gentleman drank tea rather than the more vigorous brew.
No such luck; a cup of strong coffee from Frederick’s private stock thrown down his throat.
“How may I help you… What is the correct term, sir? I have never sailed with a chaplain of my own before – I have always been small ships.”
“I am mostly called by my name, sir. Mr Samways, that is.”
“Hampshire man, sir? I believe there are families of the name towards Bishops Waltham.”
“Yes, sir. My cousin Herbert is head of the family.”
Small squires, known in passing to the Harrises; Frederick remembered his father mentioning the name, some question of whether the man might become a magistrate. He could not recall the outcome though. A younger son, evidently, who had sat his terms at University and had accepted ordination but had never found a Living, hence his presence as a naval chaplain.
“Well, Mr Samways, I am glad of course to meet one
of your family aboard my ship.”
“Thank you, sir. I am flattered to serve under quite the most distinguished of our local men. I wonder, sir, whether I might hold a service this evening, before the men prepare for bloody battle?”
“No. Thanksgiving afterwards, and funerals, of course, but I do not wish the men to consider their mortality first. I remember that Cromwell was used ‘to thank the Lord and keep the powder dry’, but I am more of a Cavalier persuasion, I fear, and will confine prayer to later celebrations rather than earlier misgivings.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you for the coffee, sir.”
“Do not go yet, Mr Samways. I am interested to know more of events prior to my assuming command, sir. The last captain died, I know – but how?”
“Ah! A very good question, sir. He was found in an upright position on the stern bench, sir, leaning back into the angle of the cushioning, sir.”
Samways pointed and Frederick peered obediently.
As was common in most captain’s cabins, there was a large stern window, a series of lights, three more or less in a line, one at either end angled into the ship’s side. A padded bench ran round, seating for as many as a dozen sat shoulder to shoulder.
“He was quite naked, sir.”
“Oh!”
“Doctor Carlisle suggested that he had suffered an apoplexy – his face was suffused.”
“I see. I presume I must not ask about other parts! Were the ship’s boys questioned?”
“Well, sir, in the nature of things, the suspicion inevitably arose… but all seemed to have alibis, as it were – they were all accounted for.”
Frederick shrugged, then saw there was more to come.
“However, sir, two of the midshipmen might not have been in occupation of their hammocks, though each swore he had been at the heads, corroborating each other, one might say, at change of watch when they were noticed absent. A digestive upset, it seemed.”
“I see – hence the need to make a clean sweep, wardroom and gunroom both.”
The Odd-Job Man (The Duty and Destiny Series, Book 7) Page 14
