The Tempest: The Dorset Boy Book 5

by Christopher C Tubbs

  Brave men ran in with jack staves and stopped it from causing more damage and it was lashed down to make it secure. Marty noted that at least three of them were from the group he had freed.

  Marty looked around for the Eagle or the Falcon but couldn’t see them through the smoke and then his guns spoke again.

  He was bracing himself for a return broadside when he heard the sound of the Eagles nines barking in sequence. She was crossing the stern! It took about a minute and at the end blood ran from the after scuppers of the Frenchman. The Eagles had loaded double shot into the nine-pounders which had a devastating effect on the gun deck killing many and disabling at least two more guns at the aft end of the battery. When they did get off a broadside, they only managed a ragged reply.

  The guns had flattened the breeze so when Marty’s guns spoke again, he couldn’t see much at all as the smoke shrouded everything, but he did hear the creak and crash as the frigates mainmast finally toppled.

  He ordered John to bring them alongside and for the men to prepare to board.

  The hulls ground together, the grapnels flew, and the men jumped howling over to the other deck. Marty was at the fore with Blaez on his right and Samuel on his left.

  Once again, his insistence that his men practice close quarter fighting paid off, their aggression and skill was simply greater than the French. Grenades were dropped down hatches to winkle out any lurking below and soon the French crew were dropping their weapons and surrendering.

  Marty looked up after dispatching a stubborn officer who refused to surrender, saw the Falcon had pulled up on the other side and her men were boarding by climbing up the mainmast that still hung over the side. This fight was over.

  He walked to the quarterdeck and found the French captain. He was a tall elegant man, his left arm hung loosely by his side dripping blood from a wound in his bicep.

  He walked over and bowed.

  “Martin Stanwell,” he introduced himself, “Captain of the Tempest do you surrender sir?”

  The captain looked surprised to be addressed in such good French but replied he would and struggled to draw his sword to hand it to Marty. Marty shook his head and indicated he should leave it.

  “You fought with honour sir, keep your sword.”

  Stepping back and looking at the state of the Frigate Marty knew she was going to need a yard to repair the damage. The closest was English Harbour and the Navy yard there. At least The Tempest still had all her masts.

  They got the French safely locked away under guard and set about making the Bravoure seaworthy.

  Chapter 17: A hanging Offence

  All three of his ships joined in the repair work and as it neared completion, with the fishing of a spare main boom as a jury-rigged main mast on the Bravoure, Marty invited Pieter and James to dine with him and the French captain.

  “Your armament is not what I expected on so small a ship,” Dordelin stated, “you throw a great weight of iron and accurately.”

  Marty took that as a complement.

  “We normally avoid this type of action,” James replied, “repairs are expensive but in this case the rewards were worth it.”

  And good practice for what is to come, Marty thought.

  The next morning The Tempest, Bravoure and Eagle set sail for English Harbour, Marty transferred Fletcher to the Falcon to oversee the sale of the other prizes. The trip to English Harbour took a day and a half at the five knots the frigate was able to make with her jury-rigged mast and as they entered the harbour Marty was surprised to see the Flagship moored in the middle with its escorting frigates either side of it.

  After they had anchored a boat came across asking Marty to meet with the admiral at Clarence House the next morning.

  “What the hell is that about?” Marty wondered.

  “I think the admiral has come to see that Owen fella, to give him what he deserves.” Samuel stated with absolute certainty.

  “You might be right,” Marty replied and decided he should go prepared.

  “You will be coming with me so make sure you are smart and ready.”

  “I’ll bring a rope to hang him wide as well,” grinned Samuel giving Marty the full benefit of his brilliant white teeth.

  As soon as they saw the admiral’s barge leave for shore, they got ready to row over themselves. Marty was given instructions in the note to let the admiral get there first and for him to arrive at least thirty minutes later.

  He armed himself discretely, taking his stilettoes in their forearm sheaths and a dress sword. Blaez had his everyday walking collar on and Samuel wore a large belt knife.

  They strolled up the hill to Clarence House and knocked on the door. The same house slave that had greeted them last time opened the door and immediately showed them inside. The admiral’s flag lieutenant was waiting for them in the waiting room.

  “Right on time old chap.” He greeted and shook hands, a very different reception from the last time.

  “The admiral says to follow his lead and not to worry if he breaks your cover story.”

  Will he be damned. Marty thought but nodded and called Blaez to follow. Samuel fell into step behind him grinning like it was his birthday.

  The Flag opened the door and led them into the office he had met Owens in the last time. The admiral sat in a comfortable chair his hands resting on a walking cane he had propped between his knees. His hat with its gold braid was on an occasional table to the side next to a cup of tea or coffee.

  Owen sat opposite him in a similar chair looking obsequious and cringingly respectful. He looked up in surprise as Marty walked in.

  “What are you doing here?” He demanded.

  The admiral looked around and said, “Good morning Martin,” and then to Owens, “You have met the good captain before, I believe?”

  Marty grinned at him and walked over to the desk and pushed the papers lying on it around.

  “What are you doing? Stay away from there! That is official Navy business and no business of a pirate like you!” Owen said in a haughty voice, having completely missed the familiarity in the greeting from the admiral.

  Marty sat on the edge of the desk and waited.

  “I don’t think you have been formally introduced to Martin,” the admiral stated.

  “Oh, I know him alright. He is Captain Stanwell, a notorious privateer in these waters.” Owen smirked.

  “Oh, but you are mistaken my dear, allow me to introduce Captain Martin Stockley, otherwise known as Baron Candor, of his Majesty’s Royal Navy, a leading member of Naval Intelligence,” the admiral announced with a formal bow of the head to Marty, which Marty returned.

  Owen’s mouth dropped open and his mouth went wide in shock, then he stood and looked as if he would bolt for the door. Samuel was there in an instant and pushed him back down in his chair with inexorable pressure on his shoulders. He looked over Owen’s head and said to Marty, “Royal Navy?” and to Owen, “stay still or de dog will bite you good.”

  Marty nodded and asked the admiral, “Captain?”

  “Your commission arrived last month; Hood has been influencing things again.” He replied with a wink.

  “Now Mr. Owen, Captain Stockley has been telling me tales of some of your extracurricular activities.”

  Owen denied everything, of course, and said that they had no evidence just hearsay. Marty picked up a document from the desk and handed it to the flag lieutenant who muttered. “Congratulations!” to Marty as he took it then passed it to the admiral.

  “Written in your own hand I believe.” Marty stated.

  Owen didn’t move, he was alternately looking at the admiral then at Blaez, who had sat directly in front of him, in terror.

  Marty then pulled a packet of folded papers from an inside pocket, selected one and passed that across as well.

  “I think you will find the writing is the same,” he told the admiral. “That was sent to a French privateer who used the information to attack the merchantmen mentioned. They
asked for a Navy escort but were refused by Owen, he handed over another letter. What they didn’t bank on is that I would escort the convoy and capture both ships. The captain he wrote to perished in the exchange, but his partner survived and told us everything,” he handed over a third sheet.

  “This is his sworn statement made in front of three Naval officers.” He handed over a final sheet.

  “Do you have anything to say in your defence Mr. Owen?” the admiral asked once he finished reading.

  Owens just shook his head and crumpled as his world collapsed around him.

  The admiral’s marine escort took Owen away to be placed in the prison on the other side of the bay and once he had gone the admiral held out his hand to the flag. The man looked confused.

  “Captain Stockley’s commission York! You got wool for brains today?”

  “Oh yes, sir!” York replied and pulled a sealed package out of his documents case.

  The admiral stood, and Marty stepped up to him.

  “Congratulations my boy, well deserved,” he said as he handed the package sealed with the fouled anchor of the admiralty over and shook Marty’s hand.

  “Will you dine with me this evening and bring your lieutenants with you?” Marty raised a questioning eyebrow at that.

  “Didn’t I say? Campbell and Turner are both made.”

  Marty then remembered they took their lieutenants exams before they left England.

  Marty accepted as a request like that from an admiral was to be treated as an order. The flag passed him two more packages addressed to James Campbell and Ryan Thompson.

  “Now about that frigate you sailed in with,” the admiral opened as he poured himself another cup of coffee.

  The dinner on the Flagship was splendid, course after course, everything fresh and the flag captain and the captains of the two escort frigates didn’t bat an eyelid at the state of undress of the three guests. Marty could only assume the admiral let them in on the secret. The wine flowed and they had to recount the story of the frigate’s capture.

  Then the discussion centred around the merits of different calibre cannons. The newest of the two frigates, HMS Perseverance, was a thirty-six-gun fifth rate with eighteen-pound longs and sixty-four-pound carronades. The other was HMS Anson a cut down sixty-four carrying forty-four, twenty-four pounders. Either of which could have smashed the Bravoure in a moment. But as Marty pointed out, the Frenchman would have just run away as soon as he had seen them. The only reason he fought Marty was because he thought he could win.

  The Navy yard provided Marty with everything he needed to refit and replenish the Tempest under orders from the admiral. He bought in the frigate at a knock down price of fifty-eight thousand pounds. He shamelessly bullied the prize court into sitting and making their valuation in unprecedented time, and they in turn came down hard on the missing mainmast and damaged hull, knocking eight thousand pounds off the actual value, which was extortion in Marty’s opinion.

  The admiral didn’t care. He got another frigate, and because the Tempest was not officially a Navy ship and effectively under admiralty orders, he wouldn’t see any of the prize money.

  Both Ryan and James were delighted to be made even if they couldn’t show it yet. Both promised they would visit Marty’s tailor in Jamaica when they got there and spend some of their prize money on new uniforms.

  Samuel was sworn to secrecy about what he heard, and he realized the knowledge put him in an elite group amongst Marty’s men.

  Owen stood trial for treason at the end of the week, Friday being a hanging day according to the admiral. The court was held in accordance with the law and he was given an officer as his defence. At the end, he was sentenced to death for treason, according to the law, and hung from the main yard of the Flagship. As a temporary measure York, the admiral’s flag lieutenant, was made commissioner.

  “Get the damn fellow out of my hair for a while,” the admiral confided to Marty as they parted, “I am a friend of his father, but he can be a wooley headed ninny! Not a chip off the old block at all.”

  Chapter 18: Bonaire

  They went back to St. John’s to collect the Falcon then steered for Martinique from there they would set out for Bonaire. Ever on the lookout for prizes, they gathered up a couple coastal traders South of Guadeloupe, took anything of value, and sent them on their way.

  Marty sent the Eagle to have a look into Port Royal and Forte de France. He came back in a hurry and reported that there were two big French frigates in the harbour and a couple of corvettes that hadn’t been there before.

  “From the look of them, they have all the signs of being at sea for an extended time,” James reported. “I would say they didn’t arrive long ago.”

  “I’ll wager that Admiral Duckworth doesn’t know they are here either,” Marty commented and decided. He sat down with James and wrote as complete a report as they could on what he had seen.

  “Take this to Diamond Rock and leave it with them. They can get it to the admiral on one of their supply ships,” he ordered James, “then catch us up. We will skirt the islands and head to Trinidad. If we don’t see you at sea, we will wait for you in Trinidad.”

  James returned to his ship and the Eagle headed East to Diamond Rock. He skirted it and moored up where they had before. Lieutenant Maurice greeted him, and James handed him the report along with Marty’s request to pass it to the admiral. He also gave Maurice a verbal report.

  “I am going to have to kick my lookouts up the arse,” he swore, “they only reported a single corvette, damn their hides.”

  “The frigates are forty-gun fifth rates. The corvettes looked like twenty-eights,” James continued.

  Maurice gave him a shrewd look.

  “You know an awful lot about Navy ships for a privateer. I think you and your captain are more than you seem.”

  “Now, now,” replied James with a wink, “don’t go asking questions which you won’t like the answers to.”

  They both laughed and shook hands then James had a thought.

  “Have you seen a schooner captained by a fellow called de Faux?” he asked.

  “Why yes, he stopped by two weeks ago: an American privateer,” Maurice replied.

  “Well, next time he does, you should arrest him; he isn’t an American, he is a French Navy agent and has been trying to organise the privateers and freelancers to attack only British ships.”

  Maurice looked aghast.

  “Is he? Be damned!” he exclaimed. “I will shoot the bugger myself if he shows up again.”

  “You do that. Save us the trouble,” James laughed.

  “There! I knew you were…” Maurice started to say until James raised a finger to his lips and said, “Ssshhhh.”

  He left Diamond Rock and set a direct course to Trinidad. He guessed Marty was after information about the treasure ships and would make all sail to get there as fast as he could.

  A day out and the lookout reported a sail on the horizon behind them. An hour later, it had dropped out of sight. Just as the sun was setting, it appeared again. James suspected they were being followed, so he kept on all sail during the night and had the lookouts up and the Eagle at stations before the sun came up the next morning.

  As false dawn arrived, the lookout called that he could see a grey goose at a mile, he waited with a certain sense of anticipation.

  “Sail ho! Dead astern!” called the mainmast lookout.

  “Can you see what she is?” James called up.

  “Schooner. If I ain’t mistaken,” Came the reply.

  ‘De Faux!” James thought. I bet he wants us to lead him to Marty.

  The shadow stayed with them for the rest of the day but when dawn broke the next morning, there was no sign of him.

  They rendezvoused in Trinidad as planned, and James reported onboard the Tempest.

  “De Faux, you are certain?” Marty asked.

  “It was certainly a schooner and the only one we know of is his. The behaviour was odd a
s well.”

  “Well, let’s assume it was. Now, what was he trying to achieve?” Marty pondered.

  “I suppose he was just trying to establish where you were. We were making a beeline directly for Trinidad.” James offered.

  “If he assumes we are heading here, why not follow you all the way to be sure?” Marty responded with a frown.

  Blaez, sensing his disquiet, came over and laid his head on his lap. Marty started stroking his ears without thinking. “Unless he thinks we will go from here onto Aruba looking for prey.”

  “Do you think he will stop over at Bonaire or Curacao to recruit reinforcements?” James asked.

  “That would fit his modus operandi,” Marty replied, surprising James with the Latin. (He learned it from Shelby while being taught chess.)

  “Get the ships ready to sail,” Marty suddenly ordered as he came to a decision. “We have the information we were looking for and can leave straight away.”

  Marty met with Don de la Sirenca and was told that a message was sent to Jamaica just the week before to tell him that the Spanish fleet would leave from Puerto La Cruz in June. They were waiting for a frigate escort and the final shipment of treasure to come across country from Peru. Marty sent a message to Caroline to stay put in Jamaica and he would join her in mid-May when he would return to replenish their stores.

  The destination was Bonaire. Marty’s intention: make a hit and run raid to take or burn any privateers anchored in any of the bays on the west side of the Island. They would fly no colours.

  With a favourable wind and current, they soon approached the rocky southern tip of Bonaire. They reduced sail and made their way slowly up the coast, keeping far enough out to avoid the fringing reef.

  The first thing they noticed was how desolate the southern end of the island was. It was flat and the only sign of habitation were the salt pans with their wind pumps. Pink flamingos strutted along heads down, weaving from side to side as they filtered the shrimp from the salty water. Pelicans dived after fish in the shallow water near the shore and Frigate birds soared above.