One of the officials stepped forward. “Charlotte Norris, I am Wayne Dawson, and I am employed by Evan Nepean, secretary to the Board of Admiralty. My brief is to examine any indications of espionage involving the Royal Navy. Your presence is required in the Secretary’s office. It would be better if you come along without disturbance. This will be in the nature of an examination of any knowledge you may have of the activities of Sarah Phillips, presently living in Paris, France. I anticipate you shall be released early this afternoon.
Sputtering and cursing, Norris was led away. Before they went outside, Phillips called after her. “Charlotte, I will go collect the children now. We will wait for you here. I’ll take care of your coach and horses.
A week later, matters had calmed. Timothy had been ecstatic to see his father. Abigail was not so sure. It had been a long time since she had seen him, but after he tossed her up in the air a few times, she began to come around. After Charlotte returned from her visit to Secretary Nepean, she was very subdued. Even today, the first thing she had to say when she came downstairs was “I just can’t understand why she became involved in espionage against her own country.”
“Charlotte, I think it was the memories she had of the Terror. She was completely at the mercy of the French authorities, and probably felt she had to cooperate with them.”
“But the things she wrote me about you.”
“I think she became caught up in the espionage game. It was exciting, and she was able to lead a life she had only imagined. After she was cut off from my funds, she was dependent upon French sources for money to fund her shopping sprees. And apparently, her source was a French agent known to her as Raoul.”
“What will you do about her, John?”
“There is not much to be done. It would take an act of Parliament for a divorce. The point is moot, however. She is in France and I am here. I believe any British court will give me custody of the children, in light of her recent activities in France.”
Sarah came ashore in a tiny fishing village. The fishermen had been paid when she transferred from the French boat in mid channel, so there was nothing to do but step out onto the beach and attempt to find transportation to her home. If her husband would not help her, she was sure her neighbor, Charlotte Norris would. As it happened, the local Church of England priest was in the village looking over the needs of his flock. He accepted readily Sarah’s story about escaping France in a small boat, and agreed to help her on her way to her home.
He gave her a ride in his gig to a larger town, through which the mail coach ran. The priest was not a wealthy man, but was able to assist Sarah with the fare. The local church ladies gave her a big basket of food to sustain her on the trip.
She was handed down from the mail coach in the small village near her home. She had planned to walk the few miles to her home, but the town’s seamstress spotted her. She had run up many a gown for Sarah, and ran to her. “Mrs. Phillips, as I live and breathe! What have they done to you?” The village had been horrified at the story of her supposed imprisonment in France, and knew nothing of her espionage activities.
“Mistress Fletcher, would you know if my neighbor, Charlotte Norris is in residence?”
“Why she is indeed, Ma’am. But you don’t need her. Captain Phillips himself is home from the war. I saw him going in the pub not an hour ago.”
She turned, and grabbed an urchin as he ran by. “Thomas, you just go and fetch Captain Phillips out of the pub. Tell him his lady is here.”
Sarah would have rather walked home than to face her husband here on the village street. However one did what one must.
The greeting was cool, but nobody would have expected else on the main village street. The boy who had fetched him stood by expectantly, hoping for a reward. Phillips turned to him, handing him a coin. ”Young man, here is sixpence. Do you suppose you could run down to the farrier’s and tell him I will not be needing my horses shod today, after all? I will need them and my gig here as soon as possible.” The lad ran running down the street, flipping the silver coin. He had been hoping for a penny, and now he had six.
Neither had much to say on the way home. Once there, Phillips, who had spent the time thinking said; “Sarah, you have caused me a lot of pain. I know of what you were doing in Paris. I know all about the gowns and jewels. I also know all about Raoul.”
“I realize you were faced with a frightening situation, and knew of no other way to get what you thought you needed. I am willing to forget what happened. We will go on as before. However, you have come to the attention of some agents of the Admiralty. These people have evidence that you have committed treason. I am afraid they will compel you to tell them everything that happened to you in France. If you do not cooperate, you could be charged with espionage and treason.”
“Sarah, this matter will blow over soon. I doubt if the Admiralty will wish this situation bandied about in the press, so if we keep our silence concerning the situation to ourselves, others will soon forget,”
“John, a French official let me go with the proviso that I continue to spy for them. He said if I did not, they would inform the British services of my actions.”
“Sarah, you must tell all of this to the people who will question you. Even the matters you do not wish to tell me about, you must disclose to our intelligence people. This will be a most trying time for all of us, but some day, it will all be over.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A New Command
Christmas 1805
The new winter promised to be a hard one. The price of firewood was increasing every week. Many of the tenants on the Phillip’s estate were having difficulty purchasing fuel, and were secretly cutting trees wherever they could be found. Captain Phillips had a reasonably sized forest on his estate and ordered the forester to mark malformed or diseased trees that could be spared. He then posted notice in the church that these trees could be cut without fear of prosecution, as long as the wood was to be used for heating local homes. Anyone cutting unmarked trees however, would be brought before the magistrate. Some of the trees in the forest were fine straight oaks, which someday might be sawn into planks for warships of the future. It was the inferior or damaged trees that were meant to be harvested for firewood.
Phillips had a glorious time getting to know his children again. Timothy’s pony was retrieved from the Norris’ place. John and Sarah agreed the boy was getting big enough for a larger animal, so an elderly, quiet mare was purchased. The pony was handed down to Abigail, who delighted in the animal. Strict guidelines had to be handed down to the boy. He initially was apt to urge the mare into a gallop, while the pony with the wee girl aboard would charge after them. Several accidents followed, so it was necessary to threaten the boy with the loss of the horse. Phillips told his son that more reckless riding could cause his horse to be given to the new neighborhood baby.
Privately, Timothy wondered about this, thinking the baby would probably be much too small for the horse, but was not willing to contest the matter with his father. Matters remained so for the next few weeks. Sarah and John had by now resolved their problems, and had become settled into the community, hosting many of the social events.
For a period, there was tension around the house as Admiralty agents came and went. After the initial interrogations were completed though, the visits subsided. One agent assured Phillips that Sarah’s potential French controller had been captured. He had come ashore in a fishing boat at Portsmouth, and nabbed as soon as he entered a pub. He affected an Irish accent, but the publican’s assistant was a French émigré who recognized the true accent of the agent, and became suspicious of his questions. The agent was talking, and government officials were learning much of interest about matters in Paris. Captain Phillips was told there were no plans at the time for any legal action against his wife. As long as she avoided any contact with French espionage agents, she would be safe.
Charlotte Norris had become something of a fixture around the Phillip’s
home. At her request, Peabody had been temporarily assigned as her factotum. Seeing that he was a capable man, able to handle almost any task put to him, Norris tried to hire him away from Phillips. Phillips put it to Peabody, but it was his wish to remain with his Captain. Phillips thought she was a positive influence on his wife, and did not comment when the woman’s abdomen began swelling. Sarah soon told him the woman was pregnant, and they were not to question her about the father. Normally, pregnant women without a husband were ostracized. Not so with Charlotte. She was a wealthy woman, employing many of the locals on her own estate, and had the power to take away the livelihood of those who besmirched her reputation.
The subject of the identity of the baby’s father proved to be an irresistible subject among some of the villagers, however. One local postulated Captain Phillips was the guilty party. Few people paid her much attention, but one who did was Peabody, by land Phillips’ gamekeeper, by sea; his Master at Arms. Peabody could not of course talk to the gossip; a married woman, but he could talk to her husband, a noted brawler in the area. Peabody sat next to him in the pub one night, and commented it might be best if the man’s wife ceased spreading false rumors. The man took one swing at Peabody, connecting with his right fist to the jaw.
Peabody did not even flinch. The brawler stepped back, as if to give Peabody space to fall. Instead, he reached out, grabbed one of the brawler’s arms and spun him around. Grabbing him by the seat of his pants and his collar, Peabody swung him up over his head and carried him to the door. With both hands occupied, he asked another man mildly, “Jonathon, would you please open the door”
The rest of the pub’s denizens followed them out to an unused alley close by, where some of the more fastidious citizens had been dumping their chamber pots, as well as quantities of animal dung. Peabody’s arms were beginning to tire now, so he just dropped his burden into the noisome mess. The rumors died down after this.
When the post brought the letter from the Admiralty, Phillips was of two minds. He was financially secure, with plenty of money in investments, and more coming in every year from his three merchant ships. Early on, he had called his ship masters in and promised them a percentage of profits earned. This encouraged them to hunt down the most profitable cargoes, and to process those cargoes efficiently.
Now though, the latest letter ordering him to London left him in a quandary. He was tempted to quit the Navy. What did he need it for? Then again, there was the realization the country was still in deadly danger. Granting that many of the male population refused to take the war seriously, he knew that with his experience and training, he could make a difference, even if it was only a tiny one. After all, a few hours of inattention or an error by the Channel Fleet commander could lead to a massive invasion by French forces. An incursion from which it might be impossible to recover.
After some thought, he took the letter into Sarah’s sewing room, and showed it to her. She wondered, “What are you going to do, John”
“I haven’t made up my mind, Sarah.”
“Oh, go back to sea. You’ll be miserable if you don’t.”
Phillips debated whether he should take his own coach, now beautifully enameled and appointed to London. In the end, he decided not to. It would save trouble and money if he just took the mail coach. It would be an uncomfortable but fast trip.
At the Admiralty’s front door, Phillips gave Peabody some money and told him to get something to eat and drink, then wait. He assured him he would come out and inform him of the plans as soon as he knew them.
His name was called only an hour after he arrived, to the dismay of a few senior captains in the waiting room who had been waiting longer. This official was a new one to the captain. After the usual ‘getting acquainted’ conversation, Mister Billingsley asked Phillips if he was acquainted with Sir Edward Pellew.
“By reputation only, Mister Billinsley. His action, with assistance from Amazon, against the Droits de l’Homme back in ’97 is a classic. I have never had the pleasure to serve under him though.”
“Well, you may well have the opportunity to do so now, Captain Phillips. Admiral Charles Linois of the French Navy has been operating in the area of the world between East Africa and the East Indies since the Peace. Earlier he was operating out of Ile de France, but more recently, we are told he has based his squadron in Batavia on the island of Java in the Dutch East Indies. Needless to say, he has been making a dreadful nuisance of himself.”
“His main target is the China Fleet, which carries millions in trade out of Canton. Rear Admiral Pellew has been sent to put a stopper on Linois’ activities. In addition to Linois himself, the Dutch also have a strong presence in the area. I understand four or five ships of the line and some smaller fry. What condition the Dutch ships are in is a matter of debate. By way of giving Pellew a little reinforcement, we are proposing to put you in a 38 gun frigate, HMS Vesta that we have anchored at the Nore, and have you take a small convoy of John Company ships out to Madras, India. Having arrived there, you would ascertain Admiral Pellew’s location, and put yourself under his command. Would you be interested?”
Phillips thought about the offer for a moment. He wanted to ponder it overnight, but he knew there were half a dozen post captains out in the waiting room who would kill for such a chance. He nodded. “I will accept the commission, Mister Billingsley.”
Billingsley beckoned to a clerk hovering in a corner. “Watkins will complete your orders Captain, and then you may leave to inspect your ship. Something you should know. Vesta herself is a fine ship, I am told. Relatively new, she was damaged in a West Indies hurricane last year, and was brought back home for repair. She has been out of the yard for a few months. Captain Horton undertook to man her, but was unable to get a full crew. We gave him the usual villains we are given these days, but he had no proper seamen. We did have some people that had been removed from various ships for disciplinary reasons, mutinous behavior for one. It was thought these would give him some trained seamen to train his assize men on the long voyage out to India, but this did not work out. The men refused to work for Captain Horton, and he left the ship, along with the commission officers. We have nothing against any of these officers, so some, or all may be ordered back to the ship.”
“What about the Marines? Are they supporting this mutiny?”
“Actually, there are no Royal Marines aboard. It was initially planned to board them shortly before the ship sailed, but then those plans changed. Instead of Marines, we decided to transport s detachment of soldiers meant for Madras. These men are fresh out of the training barracks, but I am told they are disciplined and eager to embark. A lieutenant will command them. They will serve in lieu of Royal Marines. These troops have not yet boarded Vesta, but I am told they are able to do so when so ordered.”
“Mister Billingsley, I do not see how I can take this ship to sea with a mutinous crew, many of which are no seamen.”
We have thought about that, Captain. The brig HMS Argo has arrived at the Nore. She is worn out, and will need a long re-fit. Much of her crew will be transferred bodily to Vesta. Her captain, a Lieutenant Henderson, will transfer over with them.
Fortunately, his commission date is older than any of the present officers aboard, so he will be the first lieutenant, Henderson will bring about forty able seamen with him. Should there be any trouble with any of the warrant officers in Vesta, we can replace any that we must.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Voyage to the Orient
A week later, Phillips, Henderson and the Army lieutenant Prosser stood on the quay looking out over the harbor at the HMS Vesta. She had probably been a beautiful ship when first put back in commission, but now she looked dowdy. Her waterline was stained with the floating filth from the harbor, and her yards slanted at unusual angles. From shore, it appeared her mizzen shrouds and stays had loosened, since the mast itself had swayed over to starboard. More neglect would surely see it over the side.
When it was fully dark,
Phillips finally announced, “Let’s get this job done.” He was not at all anxious to board a rebellious ship with forty men. He had been told there were no weapons aboard, but nearly two hundred men could cause plenty of damage with their fists and knives. Thus far he had been told, the men had not offered any violence, just sullen disobedience. The officers and the few loyal hands had supposedly emptied the arms chests, containing hand held weapons, over the side at the very beginning of the trouble. An officer had also crept into the ship’s magazine and dowsed the limited amount of small-arms ammunition with water; there being no charges yet aboard for the big guns.
Two launches were at the quay and the men began boarding. The first boat, with the officers aboard, pulled away toward the ship. Henderson had already warned the boat crew and their passengers to be absolutely quiet. As they left, the other launch began loading. As the boat ghosted over the water in the dark of the night, all seemed to be quiet aboard ship. The gleam of the binnacle light could just be seen on her deck.
The boat pulled around to her stern. No evidence of an anchor watch could be seen. One of the stern windows of the wardroom seemed to be partially opened, and that is where they made their entry. One of the seamen, small by stature, was hoisted up on the shoulders of another. He opened the window all the way, and wriggled through. A minute later, the coil of line the man had carried flew down into the boat. Phillips hauled on it, testing it. It seemed secure to him, so he began pulling himself up, walking right up the stern of the ship. He put his feet through the window, and felt the vibration as another man started his way up. Phillips went forward to the wardroom door and stood there with his sword in one hand, and a pistol in the other. The wardroom was filled with men long before the launch was emptied. Cautiously, the wardroom door was opened, and the men found their way up the ladder to the quarterdeck. So far there had been no reaction from the sleeping ship’s crewmen. Phillips dispatched men to each of the hatches, with a view to confine the mutineers below, until there were enough loyal men on deck to control them.
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