Fortune And Glory (The Duty and Destiny Series, Book 5)

by Andrew Wareham

  “From the larger point of view, sir, whilst the guns create disorder amongst the Turkish subject population then they are meeting our aim. The Ottoman must come to appreciate that if he offends England then he will pay a high price amongst the more turbulent populations of his empire. If piracy breaks his sea-borne trade then the effect is much the same as if insurrection had created Greek independence – the Turk is hurt and must spend treasure and men to restore order, which may not be wholly possible. And, importantly, if the Ottomans face internal dissension then the Austrians and Russians will make hay around their borders to north and west, and the Persians will make incursions to the south and east, and the Arabs, who are concerned about religious purity, will extend their own revolts.”

  “Any Greek in a storm, then, Mr Murray. I think the best will be to send Active to scout out the island and discover, if such exists, a lesser harbour with a limited French presence. Take them overnight, fortify and arm the locals, and then make the major assault on the French invaders, hopefully swiftly. If Trident makes a show offshore then it is possible that the business may be done by surprise. What’s the name of the place? Do you know if it is possible to march across it?”

  “Morogos, I believe, and hilly in parts rather than wholly mountainous, sir. In the Cyclades and well located as a base for a French squadron seeking to command Aegean waters, sir. I still doubt that that was why they took it, sir.”

  Backham listened very carefully to his orders, noted them in his little book, for reference purposes, in case his memory failed him.

  “Just how small is a ‘limited presence’, sir?”

  “Small enough that you can be wholly certain of taking any garrison, killing or capturing all with none to escape with a warning. Thus, a village with perhaps a lone small French craft in harbour and a single fortalice under their flag would be about right. If possible, stop a fishing boat offshore and enquire of sentry posts.”

  Murray was present, in case of queries, volunteered to accompany Active to act as interpreter. Unsaid was his intention to correct any of Backham’s misapprehensions before they could do too much harm.

  Active packed on sail in a favourable wind and worked her sluggish way up to ten knots, much to Backham’s indignation.

  He turned to the master, black eyebrows raised.

  “Beg pardon, sir, but Captain Nassington, he would never listen, sir, when it came to stowing the holds and shifting ballast and such.”

  “What is your opinion, Mr Jakes?”

  Even Backham noticed that was an unfortunate surname and must lead to any number of witty nicknames amongst the crew.

  “Shift at least five tons from forward of the mainmast to the stern, sir. For a starter, that is. Use the water from the forward butts for the next little while, sir, till we get the balance just right. I got me ideas, sir, but I couldn’t never get ‘em done.”

  “Do all that you can, Mr Jakes. Much of the work will have to be done in harbour, I believe. I see that the hands work ship with ease and skill, due no doubt to your good training. What of the guns, sir?”

  “Six nine-pounders on each broadside, sir and a brass chaser, for long guns. Two small carronades to the stern. Eighteen of one and two pound swivels set round the quarterdeck and in the tops.”

  That was a huge number of swivels – few sloops would mount six. Backham wondered where they had all come from.

  “What of the boats, Mr Jakes?”

  “Two short four-pounders, sir.”

  “The swivels can be mounted as well, I suppose?”

  “No, sir. Captain wanted them where they could defend against boarders, sir. I believe he paid good money to the dockyard in Chatham and to a breaker’s yard in Harwich.”

  “I am in the business of attacking, not defending, Mr Jakes. Send the carpenter to me, please.”

  The new First Lieutenant, uncertainly learning his job, was aware that much of this should be his business, but he was not at all sure how to make it so.

  “Mr Eeles, gun drill, sir. What has been the practise on Active?”

  “Beg pardon, sir, but not enough, I find, by a long chalk, sir. I would wish to devote at least an hour a day, sir, when we clear at dawn would be best. The Gunner says we have nearly two years of practice powder sat in the magazine, sir.”

  “Use it!”

  The men were slow on the guns, but very willing. Their new captain was a very different man to the old, they believed, much more severe by the looks of him – but he had not ordered a flogging yet while Captain Nassington had managed two at least every week. The new second, who had been a warrant officer a very few months before and still was inclined to chat to his old mates, was enthusiastic about the change and thought it might lead to prize money, which made the men even more happy to work on their gun drill.

  Shifting ballast and carefully selecting the best mix of sail gave them another knot, but Backham was still not satisfied – he wished to have the legs of anything he chased and some of the Island boats could be very fast in the right conditions.

  “Studdingsails to the main course, Mr Jakes?”

  “Eventually, certainly, sir. Unfortunately Captain Nassington did not believe in them, sir, and the booms have not been rousted out in two years while the sails themselves may well have been cut up to use as patches. The dockyard is inclined to look kindly on small ships that do not indent for stores, sir, and much prefers that sails should be patched rather than replaced with new – and the Captain of the Port takes note of the reports that cross his desk from the yard, sir. Captain Nassington was very good at making friends in high places, sir.”

  Backham feared that he did not possess that particular skill.

  “Was we to take a French national ship, sir, a sloop or brig or some such, then she would certainly suffer damage in the action – possibly losing spars and certainly with sails too much holed and torn for salvage.”

  Backham considered that statement carefully, eventually realised its implications and smiled his assent.

  “An excellent idea, Mr Jakes. I shall leave such matters in your capable hands, I think.”

  The Admiralty charts of the island showed three villages, all on the coast and utilising what seemed to be the only practical anchorages.

  “Where are their fields, Mr Murray?”

  “In most of the small islands they have very few, sir. Generally the hillsides are terraced and have patches of garden land amongst the vines and olives and a few other fruit trees. It is the habit of most of the islands to buy in grain, paid for with their fishing and some of the olives and a proportion of their wine. There will be goats cropping the mountain sides, and destroying the land there – they eat down to the roots of the grasses and will gnaw at trees and bushes as well, leaving the slopes bare so that the rains wash away the soil. Goats are the death of agriculture in the islands, but they provide milk and meat and hair for weaving and the islanders will not do away with them.”

  “So, if there are no fields then there is no great call for cart tracks across the hills?”

  “Very little, sir. I doubt there would be more than a single roadway on the island, joining the three villages if the hills are low enough. It is not impossible that they rely wholly upon boats, and meet each other infrequently, on feast days only. The biggest village might have a market, but that is not a certainty.”

  The two villages on the eastern side of the island seemed probably to be smaller than that on the south-west. The chart was vague about the details inland but it seemed possible that there was a small plain to the south of the island with the likelihood of agriculture. There was certainly a mountain or ridge to the north.

  “What say you, Mr Murray? I incline to inspect the two smaller places and land at one of them if possible, perhaps to take both, if it can be done. We have three thousands of muskets, and I doubt there are so many men in either village.”

  “Nor in both together, sir. We might be able to arm two hundreds of men and boys if we are lu
cky, but they will generally fight well and provide a very useful auxiliary force.”

  They crept up to the coast with the dawn, finding a fishing boat as they had hoped, a tiny caique with a man and a boy, eyes painted on the bows, presumably in the hope of finding the way home again.

  Murray called across to them, coins in his hand glinting in the early sun.

  “English! Anglesi! Not French.”

  He was referring to the money, not the ship.

  “Shillings?”

  Murray showed them again, five of them shiny in his hand.

  “They see almost no money, sir. They barter almost everything – a man with a silver piece is rich. They know that English coins are better than French, for having more of silver in them, sir, the French being much adulterated.”

  Murray handed the coins over, started talking foreign as the crew stared.

  “A sergeant and twenty men in their village, Chora, the northernmost. A brig and an officer and thirty or so in the southern place. He does not know about the big village but expects there would be more there.”

  “Can men march across the island?”

  “Better to sail. If needs must then land around the headland out of sight of the harbour, an hour’s walking away.”

  “How many men?”

  “Ten men and forty or so of boys in his village. By ‘men’ he is talking of those with wives – unmarried males of whatever age are boys. So a sixteen year old whose father can afford a bride for him is a man, while a poor forty year old is a boy – which can be a cause of much annoyance, I would imagine.”

  “Will they be willing to fight?”

  Brief conversation established that if they were to be given muskets, powder and ball then they would fight anybody and everybody, very happily.

  “The field guns?”

  “They would sell their souls for cannon, even the smallest. They are drooling over the guns they can see here.”

  “Those short four-pound cannonade boat guns are worthless pieces, Mr Murray. I shall replace them with carronades if I possibly can. Was the boats to be lost in action then the guns would be available to them, and boats are often lost and replaced with local purchases.”

  Murray spoke to the fisherman – pointed to the short cannon, received enthusiastic cries of assent.

  “He will lead us into his village tomorrow morning, before first light. We must take the French soldiers because they have no guns at all in the village, except old fowling pieces, the Turks being most strict about that, even if nothing else. That done, they will follow us, he is quite certain.”

  They told off a landing party, nearly half of the eighty men in the crew, Active being short-handed.

  “Captain Nassington was always one for a few bob on the side, sir,” the master said. “The roll will show one hundred and five seamen, I have no doubt – the pay tickets for the extras in the captain’s pocket and cashed by his appointed agent. Seven pounds a year a man sees, and he would lay his hands on six of them after expenses. Happens in the smaller ships, where there’s fewer officers to drop a word in the right ear.”

  Backham was appalled.

  “Should we take a prize with willing men or pick up wrecked seamen then we will add them to the crew, Mr Jakes. I want the bodies, not the money, sir!”

  Jakes and the second lieutenant were to remain in the ship, the second to have the command, because of his rank, but Jakes to give the orders as he knew what he was doing.

  “Thus, Mr Yealden, you will close the harbour as soon after dawn as is practical. You have no pilot, and we have no directions for the port, so you will wait for full daylight, leadsman in the chains, and Mr Jakes at the steersman’s side.”

  Yealden nervously agreed – he was not as sure as he had used to be that he wanted to be a commission officer, the responsibility was too great a worry.

  “I have the launch and twenty four men, Mr Eeles; you the longboat and the remainder. Do not load until you are ashore – we do not want a musket fired by accident and raising the alarm. The fisherman says that he will have the throats of the four sentries cut for us, so you will land at the quay and advance to the large house on your right hand side, where you will find, we are told, the sergeant and eight men who will be sleeping as they are not on call. I will have the left of the quayside, where there is a single small tower, four men alert, four probably asleep, the French working two hours sentry, two hours guardroom, four hours off by rota.”

  Eeles had never been in action, had very little sea time either, having been a cosseted member of an admiral’s staff for the bulk of his service. He had served much of his time as a midshipman on the guardship moored at Halifax and had no real knowledge of what he should do as an officer. He did have good experience of small boats, having had much free time to fill.

  “What am I to do if they will not surrender, sir?”

  “Bloody well kill them, Mr Eeles!”

  In the event, the Greek fishermen had done the job for them, deciding that it was tidier and would show willing to the English. Eeles was led to the barracks house and was shown the bodies, throats comprehensively cut; he vomited.

  “Mr Murray, would you ask the headman, or mayor, or whoever is in charge to come out to the Active to collect the muskets we have for them.”

  “Better to bring Active into the quay, sir. Tied up we can have no intent of treachery.”

  “Why should we have, Mr Murray?”

  “Because falsehood is more common than good faith in their experience, sir. They are used to dealing with Turks, sir.”

  They took the muskets ashore, sixty of them, one apiece for every adult male and a dozen spares, together with one hundred rounds for each.

  “Tell them, Mr Murray, that the storeship will come tomorrow and will put ashore another twelve thousand rounds of ball, and powder in proportion. Sir Frederick told me to be generous, as we have no use for French ball, being too small for our muskets, and their powder is of a different quality to ours.”

  Active sailed along the coast a matter of six miles before lying to for the night hours.

  “Mr Eeles, you will take the launch, Mr Yealden the longboat, and you will land before dawn and ready yourself outside the village.”

  “Aye aye, sir! Ready for what, sir?”

  Backham smiled.

  “Anything, Mr Eeles! The Greeks from Chora will enter the village in the night and will attack the French as they find it convenient. You will support them and, if necessary, complete the work. Every Frenchman must be taken or killed, Mr Eeles, none to flee across the island to raise an alarm. Fail in that and you may expect to explain yourself to Sir Frederick, and quite possibly to a court.”

  Backham saw no reason to treat Eeles gently. The man was a very poor officer, he believed, and must either improve rapidly or be broken and replaced.

  “There is a small French vessel of some sort – we know not what – in harbour, the Greeks tell us. Mr Murray says that she is armed and two-masted but that they are very vague about further detail. Active will engage her at first light. I will expect you to take any men who flee her to the shore.”

  The village was built on the side of a steep slope, a mountain to English eyes, set on terraces zigzagging upwards, lime-washed walls under orange tiles shining bright under the morning sun, oranges and vines in the tiny garden plots and along the walls, every foot of soil utilised to grow peppers and some red fruit half the size of an apple. The paths were empty, every shutter locked closed, all silent.

  There had been shots in the hour before dawn, and a few shouts and screams. Eeles stood the men to, formed in two loose ranks, part-hidden in a grove of olives and wondered what he must do next.

  “Active entering, sir!”

  There was a short mole that partly closed the bay, the water very deep close to the shore and allowing the sloop to creep in under the land.

  The French brig was tied up alongside the small stone quay, the fishing boats pulled up on the shingle to t
he sides. There was no movement on the French deck.

  They could not stand and watch.

  Eeles led the men out of their cover and fifty yards down to the waterfront.

  “Spread out and follow me. Load muskets.”

  A brief delay and they walked nervously into the village.

  Fishing nets drying on the racks obscured the view, but all was still.

  Active fired a single gun, a blank round from a carronade by the sound of it.

  The brig mounted eight six-pounders, none run out.

  “Mr Yealden, take the brig.”

  The Second Lieutenant ran with his file of men, up the gangplank and onto the silent deck. Men disappeared below, shouted suddenly. Yealden dropped down into the forecastle, came back into sight, slowly walked to the side.

  “Dead, sir. Every man of them. Hands tied and then knifed, sir, as if they had been taken prisoner and then been disposed of like they was in the way, sir.”

  “How many?”

  “The whole crew, officers as well. Maybe sixty men, sir, all piled up on top of each other, just dumped.”

  “Clear up the mess, if you can, take her out to Active.”

  Eeles led his own group along the quay and towards a tiny fort, expecting to find the French garrison there, hoping there might be some alive.

  The fort was stone walled, about ten feet high with a walkway around the top, the whole no more than forty feet on a side. There was a single, closed gate in an archway, a pair of loopholes to either side.

  Voices called from the cottages closest to the walls, but Eeles did not understand what they were saying, turned to see where they were, standing in the open a few yards away from the gate. The seamen, alert to danger, scattered as four muskets fired.

  A petty officer spat in disgust as Eeles fell.

  “What a prick! Holcott! Run down to the quay and signal Active to come in, tell the captain the fort’s being held agin’ us. Ask for Mr Murray to come and talk to the Greeks for us. Say that I reckons there ain’t more nor a dozen Frogs left – forty of the buggers would ‘ave done more than just shot Fishy Eeles.”