Their Lordships Request: A Harry Heron Adventure

by Patrick G Cox

  "Very good Mister Heron," the voice of Captain Blackwood floated back, "Remain there and watch them. If they make any alteration of course, I wish to know immediately."

  "Aye, aye sir," Harry called back, his voice shrill with the strain. He raised the glass again, this time trying to memorise details of these sleek and threatening ships. At first sight they did not appear to be armed, but then Harry realised they carried a pair of quite large guns on the forecastle. Coupled with this he could see each ship carried a body of heavily armed men in evidence with several lighter guns along the hull. He began to realise the threat they might pose.

  -

  Ferghal listened with a quickening pulse to the exchange of calls between the quarterdeck and his friend at the masthead. He had promised his father he would 'take care' of his young friend and was determined to protect him from any danger – no easy task in a seventy four.

  His present task, assisting in the making of a long deep sea leadline, saw him skillfully tying off the knots and tails marked the fathoms as the boatswain's mate measured them off. It was interrupted by the Boatswain.

  "Gather all up O'Connor, and secure it. I'm thinking we are about to clear for action and this kit'd best not be left in a muddle lad. Make tidy and strike it below to my store – let young Gunn there help you,"

  "Aye, aye Mister Billing," replied Ferghal. He liked the Boatswain and thrived on the tasks he was given by him. He liked especially the Boatswain's patience in explaining the manner by which a thing could be done. Now though, he moved quickly to tidy the line into a series of long shanks, each tied with thin cord to keep it from tangling, the boy Gunn helping. Then, gathering the shanks of line in his arms, he hurried down to the Boatswain's Store, while the boy brought the tools.

  On the Quarterdeck Captain Blackwood ordered, "Mister Bell, have the ship cleared for action. They will attempt to work their way into a position ahead or astern of their target and try to disable them before boarding. I do not think they will attempt us, but they will certainly try for the Indiamen and the convict ships. Mister Rae, take the launch to the Miranda and the others, make sure they prepare properly to repel any attempt on them. Impress upon all the Masters they must keep close to us and Virago. Our best hope is in the wind returning or in staying together where our guns can hold them off! To scatter now is to ensure capture."

  As the officers concerned hurried to carry out his orders, he turned to the others, "Mister Beasley, Mister Foster, have the cutters cleared away and swung out. A boat gun in each if you please and have them take us under tow. We must close up to the convict ships – these fellows are slavers and will see the smaller ships as easy targets." He turned to the fifth Lieutenant and added, "Take the quarter boat Mister Rogers, and a detachment of the Bullocks to the Lady Jane, she was short handed and may find herself unable to resist if attacked." He paused, then added, "Return when you have done it, and convey Mister Bowles, Mister Barclay and some of our other Midshipmen with detachments to some of the other ships as well. See to it please."

  ***

  Ferghal secured the Boatswain's Store and returned the key to its keeper as the urgent tattoo of the Marine drummers began to sound through the ship.

  "Clear the ship for action!" roared the Master's Mates.

  Ferghal and the other 'boys' ran to their tasks amidst the chaos of clearing away the bulkheads, the furnishings and preparing the guns, finally collecting their cartridge cases and standing ready to run with these to their guns. Ferghal found time to reassure the little Danny Gunn, "Just stay close Danny; we don't have much to do now but run with our cartridges. Just be quick and careful is all – and make sure your cartridge cases are closed properly."

  The words were barely out of his mouth when a Master's Mate was shouting down the hatchway, "O'Connor, Smith, Bellew! Get yourselves on deck and into Mister Rogers' launch. You're to go with him and help serve the guns on one of the prison ships."

  ***

  Aloft in the cross trees, Harry watched the Xebecs as they crept abeam, and then began to draw ahead, the rhythm of the oars almost hypnotic. The Spartan inched a little closer to the still scattered convict ships while Virago seemed to have managed to draw the two HEIC ships closer to herself. Below him he was aware of the boats trying to drag the bulk of their own ship to a position from which she could defend the others and of the First Lieutenant's efforts to move some of the ship's long nines to where they could be brought to bear ahead or astern.

  His thoughts on this were broken by the lookout's sudden observation, "Them poor devils'll be dying if those bastards keep them at that pace for much longer. Them'll be needin' a few replacements at the oars soon! Look sir, they's chucking some poor sod overside."

  Harry swung the telescope and watched in horror as what appeared to be an emaciated corpse dressed in rags was hurled from the forepeak of one of the xebecs to be overrun by the surging hull. He was about to express his disgust when there was a cry from the deck.

  "Mister Heron! Come down sir; report to Mister Rogers," boomed the voice of the Captain through his speaking trumpet.

  Quickly housing the telescope, Harry nodded to the lookout, "It seems I am required for some effort below," he said with a grin.

  "Aye sir," the man returned his grin, "Looks as if all ye young gentlemen is being sent to play nurse to them hell ships. Watch them Musselmen if they gets aboard ye sir, they fight like demons and there's no quarter asked or given wi' 'em either."

  "I'll keep it in mind," Harry nodded as he began his descent of the mast. He was tempted to slide down the stay, but with the telescope swinging against his back decided to take the safer option. He arrived on the gangway just in time to join the fifth lieutenant as he mustered another party of seamen and marines, relieved to see it included his friend Ferghal O'Connor, crouched in the packed boat.

  "Good, Mister Heron, make ready, we are to take this crew to the Maid of Selsey, if our corsairs strike she will lie in their path. You have your dirk? Good, it will serve. Into the boat with you now."

  Passing the heavy telescope to a Master's Mate, Harry scrambled down the tumblehome and launched himself into the boat as it lifted to the swell and rose to meet him. Landing somewhat awkwardly, he was steadied by one of the seamen who grinned at him, "Easy sir, there'll be time enough to go at them when they come alongside us."

  Harry laughed and several others laughed with him, "Thank you Jenkin, I shall curb my lust for a fight and wait patiently with the rest of you then." His eyes found Ferghal and nodded an acknowledgement of his friend's grin and small signal of greeting.

  ***

  The Maid of Selsey was a fat, slow, and rather elderly ship. The first sound that greeted Harry's ears as he followed the Lieutenant through the entry port was the clank of her pumps and it was immediately obvious this ship needed almost constant pumping. He heard Lieutenant Rogers exclaim, "Good God Captain, do not tell me you are holed already!"

  "Lord no! She has some bad seams which need careening to caulk." The Master was an oily fat man with small close-set eyes putting Harry in mind of a pig. "But we have plenty of labour to keep the pumps going until we may do that." He gave a mirthless laugh as he waved a hand over the upturned faces of the prisoners confined in the prison holds.

  Looking down, Harry felt a surge of pity as he caught sight of several children's faces peering up through the gratings. This turned to an angry disgust as he heard the Master continue, "Rats this lot. Mostly Irish rebels and poachers. They have a choice with us – pump or drown."

  "There may be another option if we are boarded, Captain." Lieutenant Rogers sounded as disgusted as Harry felt. "These corsairs are slavers and you and your crew are just as like to find yourselves attached to their oars as any of those below if they succeed." He looked about him frowning. "Have you no broadside guns with which we may repel these pirates?"

  Harry could see several guns, but all seemed to be trained inboard and pointed at companionways or the gratings. He heard the c
aptain tell the lieutenant, "With so few hands for my ship and so many prisoners." He shrugged. "I keep them ready to quell any mutiny, mister."

  "Well, my men will take charge of them and prepare them to repel a more serious threat," said the lieutenant, his tone indicating his anger at this man's folly. Turning to Harry he said, "Mister Heron, go with Mister Bates and see what may be done to get those guns ready for our defence. I do not think we will have to concern ourselves with any attempt to escape by the prisoners for the moment."

  "Aye, aye, sir," said Harry and left the lieutenant as the captain started to protest at his taking charge. He followed the Master's Mate below the gangway and listened as the man, one of Spartan's most experienced, told the seamen with him what he wanted.

  "Begging your pardon, Mister Heron." The Master's Mate acknowledged Harry's rank. "But we be needin' some more hands to get these guns turned and ready should them pirates come our way – if you agree sir."

  "As you say, Mister Bates," Harry acknowledged. "Press a few of the ship's own people, they need not stand idle while we work," he said, still angry at the evident callousness of the Maid of Selsey's master. A further thought struck him and he asked, "How will we check their loading? I rather fancy they will be loaded with grape and not shot."

  The Master's Mate nodded. "You're right, sir. I'll see to it – this shower of loafers will have filled the guns with grape – and under charged them too I'm thinking." He called one of the men to him, "Perks, see if you can draw the charge from that gun. Take care now, I doubt the buggers will have done it proper. Make sure they have a full charge of powder and shot, not grape, and not a half or quarter charge as would be right for this use." He walked across to where a few of the ship's own crew were clustered idly watching the Spartan's and returned shortly driving them ahead of him.

  Harry watched in fascination as Perks used the wadhook to explore the charge.

  Perks grinned, "We'm in luck, sor," he said as he began to haul the hook out again. "They's loaded wi' grape and it weren't rammed home proper." He shot a look of contempt at the prison ship's crew as they worked sulkily, and said loudly, "Wouldn't have been much bloody use if they'd tried to use them agin the prisoners – probably wouldn't have fired."

  As he said this, the corkscrew like hook appeared with the wrappings of the grape shot snagged in its point. "Now fur the charge," Perks muttered, inserting the hook again. A few minutes later he extracted the wad and the canvas containing the powder. He looked at it in disgust, "Less'n half a charge in there – and bleedin' poor powder it is too. Be lucky if'n it fires at all!"

  The crew busied themselves with the task of reloading the gun and getting it into a position from which it could be used to fire on any attacker. New cartridges for the guns were brought up eventually, the delay apparently due to a disagreement between the ship's officers and the Lieutenant. With the new charges they were reloaded with a full charge and shot. Harry reflected that, provided the guns could be brought to bear, the corsairs would not go unchallenged in closing them now.

  -

  On the forecastle, Ferghal threw himself into the task of preparing the small bowchasers for use against a possible approach from ahead.

  "Bleeding pop guns," grumbled the leading hand in charge of preparing them. "Them bleeding pirates will have to stand in front of 'em afore they does any damage." He looked at Ferghal and said, "Ere youngster, fetch up a couple of cartridges for 'em. Get some o' them layabouts t' show yez where they 'ide 'em and bring 'em 'ere."

  "Aye, aye," Ferghal responded and ran to where one of the ship's officers stood glowering at Lieutenant Rogers' back. "Please, sir, we need some powder cartridges for the guns, sir."

  "What for?" the man growled. "They have charges in them. A great fuss for nought – those corsairs won't come near us!"

  Lieutenant Rogers caught the gist of this and came over. "I'd be obliged if you would provide my men with the powder and shot they require. Your opinion of these corsairs may be accurate, but it will be too late to change our defences once they lay alongside us, Mister." To Ferghal he said, "What does Sykes require?"

  "Two fresh cartridges to reload with full charges, sir," replied Ferghal touching his forelock, "An' some shot to replace the grape, sir."

  "Very well." The lieutenant fixed the mate with a grim expression. "Well, sir, do you give the order to your men or shall I have mine simply take charge of your magazine and issue what we need? We are here to defend you and your charges, and we shall do so whether you assist us or not."

  "Damn you!" The Mate was plainly angry. "Very well. I shall do as you ask." He called a large man to them, "Boatswain take this whelp below and give him and his companions the powder and shot they want. But don't let them help themselves, make sure you provide only what they need."

  Ferghal, now joined by the other boys and one of the younger men from Harry's guns followed the surly boatswain below decks to the hold and the small powder store. Here, almost in contempt of the material he was handling, he began, carefully, and irritatingly slowly, to measure out powder into the bags which made up the cartridges.

  "Have you no prepared cartridges?" asked the young seaman, Grant, irritated by the slowness of this surly man whose very attitude reeked of insolence toward them.

  "Watch yer mouth, pup," snarled the Boatswain. "Or you can go hang and no powder from me."

  "Well, at this rate there'll be no need fer it," shot back Grant. "They pirates'll be 'ere to 'elp theirselves!"

  The situation could have degenerated as the Boatswain began to remonstrate with the young seaman, but suddenly one of the more senior hands from Spartan, a big burly man Ferghal recognised as a Gunner's Mate arrived, sized up the situation and said firmly, "I'll take charge here – O'Connor, Smith – you two can fill cartridges, quickly now – charges for the twelve pounders there and for the six pounders over here. The rest of you, find me a bucket o' water, and move that light away from here."

  -

  Chapter 10 — Blooded

  "How are you getting along there, Mister Heron," called Lieutenant Rogers. "The corsairs have altered course and are coming this way."

  Harry glanced at the Master's Mate and caught his nod. "We'm ready, sir. The guns're reloaded and ready to run out."

  "Excellent. Do not run out yet, we'll wait and see what they intend first." He paused, adding, "They will very likely attempt to board from the bow. Be ready to discharge those guns as the moment serves. They will no doubt try to get below in the hope of seizing prisoners. You have a pistol? Good, make it count, Mister Heron, it and your dirk could stand between you and a life you would not wish to contemplate."

  He hurried away leaving Harry nervously wondering what would happen next. Stepping from beneath the gangway he peered up at the fo'c's'le where several of their men and some of the ship's own crew were busy around the bowchasers. He wished he could see more and was about to return beneath the gangway when he heard his name called from beneath his feet. Startled, not least because the accent was unmistakably Irish, he looked down and realised that he was stood next to the grating covering the prison hold. "Who calls me," he asked.

  "Tis oi, Master Her'n, Cormac Murphy, sur. Of Newtownards – m' father worked occasions at Scrabo an' oi wit' him."

  "Cormac?" Harry was surprised. "What brought you here?"

  "Poaching, Master Her'n. I killed a rabbit fer to help me Mam feed the little 'uns an' the gamekeeper at Mount Stewart caught me. Oi be sentenced to transportation. Seven years in Botany Bay, sur."

  Harry was appalled. He knew Cormac to be only slightly older than himself, and felt himself torn. Poaching was serious business, a hanging offence. Surely this youth, one of those he played with and worked alongside on his father's farm could not have stooped to that? Yet here he was. "What can I do to help?" He asked, more out of politeness than any real expectation that he could.

  "Bless you, Master Her'n." Harry detected a sob. "They says we be about to be seized by pirate slavers,
be it true?"

  A thought seized Harry, he asked, "Cormac, would you volunteer for the navy if opportunity served?"

  "Anythin', Master Her'n, anythin' to see me Mam agin! Can ye do it fer me?"

  "I'll speak to my Lieutenant when I have a chance. We may have need of a few more boys on Spartan. Ferghal is with me too, so we shall see," Harry straightened himself and returned to his charges. He found he was having trouble keeping his hands from trembling and his heart felt as if it must explode. He gripped his dirk's hilt tightly and checked the pistol in his belt yet again.

  There was a flat report from ahead followed immediately by another and then several more. He heard the Lieutenant call to the men on the forecastle, "Hold your fire! The Lady Jane is wasting shot and powder; her guns cannot bear from there."

  There was a ripple of thunder from further away and Harry looked round sharply as the Master's Mate said, "Sounds like Virago's twenty-fours lads – that'll give they buggers something to think on."