“Will you two go aboard Trident for me and just have a look at all that is to be seen?”
Ablett and Bosomtwi nodded their understanding. Frederick could not board his ship without immediately reading himself in as captain, taking command and thus being tied to the ship. He wanted freedom to spend a few more days at Long Common before he left on what would probably be a three years commission. Additionally, and this was something he could not possibly do himself, Ablett and Bosomtwi would talk to the boatswain, One-Hand Dick Cheek, as near-equals, and exchange greetings with friends aboard and chat with the Master. In process they would be given an opinion of the four lieutenants who should by now be aboard. If any of the officers had shown incompetent, or bad-tempered, or lazy then they would be told, in detail. As Commodore it would not be too difficult for Frederick to remove the undesirable young man before they sailed.
Frederick had sent a note to Lieutenant Davidson as soon as he had received his orders and expected him to be waiting in Portsmouth in company with the juvenile midshipman, Fox. He would find berths for them, Fox easily on Trident, Davidson more likely on Arnheim – he would argue that being that rarest of beasts, a four-masted square-rigger in naval service, she would need an extra officer so that each mast could have its lieutenant.
They reached Portsmouth too late in the day for business, took rooms in the Crown overnight. It was a busy house, commonly cram-packed, but a Commodore, a baronet as well, could always be found a large and comfortable pair of rooms and his three followers could be well looked-after besides.
“I shall be back in company with Lady Harris for a few nights towards the end of next week, host.”
“Yes indeed, Sir Frederick.” The landlord bowed his very best. “You are due to sail one week next Tuesday, I believe, sir, in company with your squadron. Nimble cutter is in the hands of the dockyard at the moment but is due out on Friday, and Wallsend bomb is to go to the Gun Wharf on Monday to replace a pair of carronades which have been found to be honeycombed, or so I am informed. I understand Wallsend is also to receive a number of two-pound swivels, Sir Frederick. There is the matter of the pivot gun aboard Arnheim as well, sir.”
Frederick had heard nothing of these matters, and was not entirely certain what a pivot gun might be; it was the landlord’s pride, however, to have the inside word on everything that happened in the docks.
“Thank you. I am sure that, at some time in the next week or two, I would have been told all of this, officially. I shall wish to see the Port-Admiral, or the Captain of the Dockyard, tomorrow morning and hope to go home to Long Common thereafter. Four horses for two o’clock?”
“Make it three, with respect, Sir Frederick. I shall ensure that you have a good team, sir.”
It would be possible to reach Long Common within three hours with fast horses, as long as it did not rain.
“Mr Nias is still master, sir, but they is only one lieutenant aboard, isn’t it. Trident came home with a passage crew, sir, three lieutenants and a captain coming back to invalid out, sir. Port Admiral put the one man on board, Mr Akers; he a very young gentleman, sir, passed for lieutenant last year and made for this commission. Mr Cheek don’t know him, but he say he feels like a good seaman, and he give a good order. They ain’t no more than a hundred men, sir. The Indian men, they all stayed. Most of the Cape soldiers asked to stay too. Others, they gone home, them what got homes, but some of they say they come back when it time. But, whatever, sir, they’s two hundred men short, isn’t it.”
“What of the others of the squadron, Bosomtwi?”
“Speedy and Nimble, they both up for men. They was both in commission all through the Peace, sir, chasing smugglers. The bomb, Wallsend, she came out of the coal trade, sir, and all her own crew stayed with her, and then they picked up plenty more from where they come from, somewhere up north where it cold, sir. What they says, Mr Cheek tell me, is that the money and the food both better in the Navy!”
“The colliers must be bad then.”
Frederick noted that Bosomtwi had said nothing of Arnheim. He waited.
“Captain Jackman he read himself in yesterday, sir. He early, but he need be, isn’t it!”
“Problems?”
“Ain’t got nothing but, sir! He ain’t got a quarter of his men, sir, and the bo’sun, he a drunk, and the master, he new at it, and they was four lieutenants but they all got appointed new and took a look at her and said ‘no, thank you’, sir and went hoping for somewhere else, isn’t it.”
Ships were not so common that lieutenants would turn a berth down without very good reason; an officer who refused a commission might find himself on the beach for a long time.
“Mr Davidson, sir, I see him outside on the Night Mail when it come in just now.”
“Good. Find him and ask him to join me for breakfast, Bosomtwi.”
Outside passenger on the mail coaches was a cheap way of travel, but it was cold and uncomfortable, and it had not been a dry night.
Davidson was hungry, unsurprisingly, and said little at first. On his second cup of tea he ventured to thank Frederick for his patronage.
“Don’t thank me yet, Mr Davidson! I intend to give you to Captain Jackman, an old friend, who has Arnheim frigate. He needs good officers – badly!”
Davidson nodded comprehension; he had no easy task in front of him.
“I have sent a note to Captain Jackman and expect to meet him at the office of the Port-Admiral. Best you should leave your dunnage here and come with me.”
Davidson could not really afford the shilling tip to the Boots that this would demand, had no alternative to agreeing.
The Port-Admiral, Vice-Admiral Girton, was lean, sober and sane, a rare combination in a shore-based admiral in Frederick’s experience. He was a Whig by political persuasion, as was to be expected of Jervis’ appointments, but he also had a sense of humour and was glad to meet the Commodore of the squadron containing Arnheim. He shook hands, a smile on his face, and greeted Davidson kindly as well.
“Lieutenant Davidson; a follower of yours, Sir Frederick?”
“He is, sir. It is my hope to appoint him to the squadron. There would appear to be a number of vacancies, sir. My first thought was to give Mr Davidson to Captain Jackman.”
“Captain Jackman has been delayed in the company of the Master of the Ordnance, will be with us later this morning. I am sure he will be delighted to welcome Mr Davidson.”
“There will, I understand, be three more lieutenants to appoint to Arnheim, sir.”
“Two are to hand, Sir Frederick; neither, from their records, appear to have sailed with you before, but each has a good enough report from his last captain. Each has been on the beach since before the Peace, Sir Frederick. I intend, with your approval, to make a young master’s mate as well to be Fourth; he is a passed midshipman without family or private income and will never wear a cocked hat in the ordinary way of things.”
Adequate seamen but wholly without family influence to gain them a ship; they would not fit the conventional definition of a gentleman. That might lead to some difficulties in the Sugar Islands, home to the most arrogant and ill-mannered set of would-be aristocrats to be discovered outside of Prussia.
“What of Trident, sir?”
“I have been able to pick among the throng of possible members of your wardroom, Sir Frederick. Following very strict instructions from the First Lord, every man of them is a seaman and a fighting officer; he informed me - off record of course, sir – that you had no use for the incompetent and that you had killed off more than enough of them in your time!”
Frederick tried to seem indignant, to suggest that any deaths had been the purest of accidents.
“In any case, sir, you have three young men who will serve very well. Your premier, especially, must be of value to you – and will be very fit for promotion when the opportunity arises. Your Captain Murray is here as well, though he will be somewhere in town at the moment, peering through bookshops and second-
hand stores.”
“What of men, sir? Is there any word of the Press?”
“Not yet, Sir Frederick. I do not think you will benefit from the Press before you sail, and it may be delayed some weeks after. You could not safely, for example, stop homeward-bound merchantmen and lift crewmen from them.”
It had been in Frederick’s mind to do just that; he was rather annoyed to discover that he might not.
“There are a few prisoners-of-war still to be found around Pompey, Sir Frederick – mostly not French as such but Italians and Poles and Russians and the like who drifted into French service and found no wish to be dumped at Calais with the mass of other released men. You might well pick up as many as two hundred hands that way.”
That sounded suspicious. Frederick scowled.
“They would be arrested by the militia, Sir Frederick. The bulk of them are no more than a public nuisance, scrounging a few hours of work here and there or begging for charity. It is not, necessarily, wholly their fault, but they would do better elsewhere – and the Mayor has been begging me to assist him to clear the streets for weeks now.”
“Are any of them sailors, sir?”
“They will be after a few weeks at sea.”
“Round ‘em up, sir! I need men, and if they have learned enough English to beg then they can be taught enough more to obey orders at sea.”
“Thank you, Sir Frederick. It is easier for me if I can work with the authorities ashore." The expected quid pro quo followed. "I shall find you a few of petty officers as well. You will need a purser for Arnheim – I will discover one who will be of use to Captain Jackman. I shall also arrange a few extra Marines, I think.”
Jackman was ushered in and made his greetings, glad to be at sea, happy to be en route for the Sugar Islands and the chance to see his mother again, but worn already by the burden of his command.
“She is an interesting ship, Sir Frederick – not quite like anything I have ever seen before. I have discussed her rigging with the master, as you will appreciate, and we are giving some thought to rigging her barque fashion. You remember, sir, that Spaniard we took off the Trinidad?”
“Fore and aft on the bonaventure and foremast; square on the main and a sort of a driver on a boom on the mizzen. The opportunity for any number of jibs, mostly set flying, as well.”
“Exactly, Sir Frederick! I do not say that they will give her a turn of speed – shallow draught and broad beamed as she is – but she may achieve respectability. Provided, that is, that I can crew her with sufficient men to take her out of harbour at all!”
They told him of the expedient they had just devised.
“One hundred of Polacks and Ities and Russkis, sir? So long as they have four limbs apiece, I care not what their nationality may be!”
The Port-Admiral smiled his kindest and best.
“In such case, gentlemen, it may have escaped your attention, but there seems to be famine in Ireland again. Was you to make your number at Cork then you might discover a plethora of starving young men who might prefer a diet of salt beef and biscuit to boiled grass and water.”
“Boiled grass, sir? Honestly?” Frederick was appalled, and ashamed for his country – surely they could do better than that.
“So I am told, gentlemen. Truly.”
“Then we shall certainly call there, sir. Now, sir, midshipmen! I have but one in my berth and for Captain Jackman, I know not.”
“None as yet, sir, though I have received a few letters. Very few, in fact.”
“I have dispensation to carry as many as six on Trident, sir, and Captain Jackman will require four. Thus we have nine vacancies, sir, and I would welcome your recommendations if you have some.”
The admiral smiled – berths for youngsters were great sources of patronage.
“There are probably fifty letters in my secretary’s drawer, Sir Frederick, but none of real significance to me. The Captain of the Dockyard, however, has a brother’s boy of eleven or so who wishes to go to sea, in a frigate especially. I am sure as well that I could find one, probably two, sons of provision merchants – the great men of the trade – who would delight in a berth. They will not be gentleman’s sons, of course, but they will have rich fathers who will wish to aid their careers and will have gratitude, Sir Frederick – to me as well as you.”
“Send all three to me next week, sir, properly outfitted of course. I will take them. The sons of deserving, or dead, fathers in the service as well, sir – I am sure you will know of some. Preferably lads with two or three or four years in, so as to balance out the youngsters.”
Frederick and Jackman could have sold places in their midshipman’s berth to the highest bidders, and no few captains did. The patronage he was offering was valuable, and came with the expectation that he was creating an ally in the service.
“I will have nine bodies waiting at the end of next week, Sir Frederick, and you will have an amount of goodwill too, sir.”
They discussed the orders and the needs of the ships from the Dockyard authorities.
“What is this of a pivot gun, Captain Jackman?” Frederick admitted that he had never heard of such a beast.
“An innovation, sir! New! Introduced for the first time and set aboard Arnheim, at the stern, on the poop deck. Forecastle is flush, sir, but there is a small deck at the stern – a Dutch habit, apparently. Very old fashioned to look at, but makes for a very large captain’s cabin. Be that as it may, they have reinforced the deck and set upon it a new mounting, a ‘cartwheel’, so they call it, with a long twelve pounder barrel set on a sort of slide, like a carronade. The cartwheel turns onto a bearing, and is locked by a lever forcing a pin or wedge into place, and you have a great gun that can fire through more than half a circle, while the pin does not break or the axle-tree fracture under the recoil. It may work, sir, but, even if it does, of how much value is a single twelve pounder at the stern? Was it a thirty-two, then yes, I would be impressed. A pair of heavy carronades perhaps, they could stop any boarding party. But one solitary twelve pound cannon?”
They could think of little to say, except that it was by way of an experiment, no doubt, and could be landed after it had shown itself useless.
“Long barrel, you say, Captain Jackman. Would you expect it to be more than normally accurate?”
“Quite possibly, sir, but it would be of use only if I was running away!”
“Point taken, sir. I could see the innovation as being of value to a merchantman needing a defence against the smaller privateers, but there is very little use for it in the Navy!”
They shared a bottle, in honour bound, and discussed their hopes of the war to come before dispersing, Jackman to meet his lieutenants and Frederick to go home for a last few days.
“An interesting squadron, my dear, and one that is in some ways unique! It may be of use in the Sugar Islands, even so.”
He explained the problems he might face, and then expatiated on the difficulties Jackman must overcome.
“Arnheim is suited best for inshore work and I shall seek to keep her in company of the bomb, Wallsend. Between them they will be able to destroy any single battery and take a small harbour and cut out every ship they find. At sea, however, they will be in a rather different situation – Arnheim with carronades must close to one cable and yet promises to have all of the speed and nimbleness of a pregnant cow in a thunderstorm! She might well be sunk without ever landing a single shot aboard her opponent! Captain Jackman is trying to re-rig her – and I wish him joy of the endeavour. He will not be helped by his boatswain – Bosomtwi assures me he is a drunken sot.”
“And your other vessels, Frederick?”
“Speedy is a gunbrig – almost certainly fat and slow, named in an act of humour. Nimble is a cutter and probably a fast scouting craft which might just be able to tackle a tiny privateer. There is something about her captain, a young master’s mate by the name of Perlman. He is said to be deserving of his promotion, though he might not like the trans
ition from lord of his own quarterdeck to, say, fourth lieutenant of Trident. It is difficult for young men who are given the smallest of craft – very often they drift away into the Transport Service, being unable to fit back into a wardroom.”
“Perhaps he was translated to his cutter because he could not fit in, Frederick. The name suggests a German or Russian Jew family.”
“Ah! That I did not know. What to do with the young man?”
They made the necessary farewell visits to Frederick’s parents and the Pagets. All was well with the family of his dead first wife, but his own father was frail indeed and his mother bluntly told him to say his final goodbyes.
“Your father cannot last another two months, Frederick. You must go to sea, you must not refuse the commission, he will not want you to. You will wish to speak to him alone.”
There was little to say – the old gentleman was short of breath and could hardly stand unaided and was well aware of his own condition. He told his son how proud he was of his wonderful successes and how sure he was that he would achieve more – the family would be greater for him.
“I have no doubt that I shall look down upon you as Lord Harris, First Baron of the name. I have lived a virtuous enough life, have small fears for my own future, my son, and I have no worry for you. Go with my blessing, sir, and, while I think of it, remember your poor, weak brother – his end was of his own doing, unarguably so, but he was not wholly at fault – he could not entirely help his own inadequacy!”
Frederick, who had almost entirely forgotten that he had ever had a brother, made soothing noises – it was hard for a father to bury a son, even such a one as George had been.
“We have no Dower House, Frederick. What have you in mind for your mother?”
“This house is where she has lived all of her married life, sir. She is not to leave it now, except she should prefer to retire to a smaller place in Weymouth, say, or go to rooms at the Bath. That choice will be hers and I will ensure that her income enables her to make it.”
Sugar and Spice (The Duty and Destiny Series, Book 6) Page 2
