“Hold her there, Mr. Greaves. Excellent...
“Lt. Verley, take all sheets in for a hard beat.
“Did you hear, Mr. Dinman?”
Lt. Verley did not even answer, but went forward yelling to Ratshaw and Mr. Weller, the second midshipman, on the mainmast.
Dinman heard. The mizzen boom was already being hauled to starboard, and the ship continued to accelerate.
Neville turned and looked at Greaves, now standing comfortably at the wheel, and they both broke into huge grins.
“I don’t believe it, Sir,” said Greaves, “I never knew she’d run like a bloody greyhound.”
“How is that man who fell, Lt. Verley?” Neville asked Vincent upon his return to the slanting quarterdeck fifteen minutes later.
“He may have a couple broken ribs, but he’ll be fine in time. The ship is full and by,” he reported further, with additional mumbled news, “Livestock’s in a bit of a jumble, though.”
Neville remained unconvinced of Verley’s report. “I mean no offense, Lt. Verley, but I don’t think she is. We are sailing fast and comfortable, but there’s not a bowline on anywhere. Can we rig them, and see how close to the wind we can sail?”
“I… imagine we could,” replied Vincent, “but after that, can we not let well enough go for the afternoon?”
“We have an abundance of wind, plenty of daylight, and no land ahead, Lt. Verley,” he explained calmly, “and if we don’t know this ship well by the time we reach the weather side of this island we will be in trouble, indeed. I hate to offer this cliché you know so well, but ‘if you fall off a horse, you must get right back on and ride or you may never ride again’. Please see to the bowlines.”
Greaves had given the wheel back to the quartermaster, having stood with him for ten minutes giving instruction. The man was nodding enthusiastically now that he realized he wasn’t about to die.
“What was that you said a minute ago, Mr. Greaves?” Neville asked.
“Livestock, Sir. One of the hogs got loose and smashed two goats under her when we tumbled. They’re all dead against the larboard rail. Sorry, Sir.
“A shame, it is. There’s good news in it, though. Maybe the gunroom would have me down for fresh ham, then?” He knew it was a left-handed self-invitation, but someone from the gunroom was responsible for the livestock not being secured.
“Yes, by all means,” retorted Greaves, adding, “And your favorite egg-hen is missing, Sir.”
It was another hour before Lt. Verley returned to the quarterdeck to report his readiness. The ship had responded slightly to each change of sail position as the bowlines had their effect, and Neville had had the log heaved four times while Verley was at work forward.
“Fourteen knots, Lt. Verley. What say you to your ‘poor sailer’?”
Verley let out a low whistle, “Never in life, Sir, would I have though she could fly so.”
Mr. Greaves was back at the wheel for their experiment with Experiment. “Take her up ‘till she shivers, Mr. Greaves,” ordered Neville, “and then back off half a point.”
In another fifteen minutes, all the ship’s officers were standing on the poopdeck watching the details of the ship’s performance and waiting for the report from the man who had heaved the log again.
“Fourdeen and a half, Sir. Almost fifdeen,” the man yelled up, tripping the line to reel in the log.
“And we’ve never, ever, sailed this ship so close to the wind, Captain,” added Greaves.
“We must learn to do this in the dark, Lt. Verley, while the off-watch is running out the guns,” said Neville, looking Verley in the eye.
Vincent paused a moment, but he overcame whatever he was thinking, and replied, enthusiastically and with a smile, “I look forward to it, Sir!”
“Lt. Verley, it’s close on time for dinner now. Take her off bowlines, drop down two points and furl courses. Let’s spend a more comfortable night, and we’ll see what the morning brings. I know the gunroom has just had me in for supper, but I would appreciate it if you would join me for dinner.”
“Aye, aye, Sir,” said Lt. Verley, who then touched his hat and turned to affect Neville’s orders.
Verley & Burton sat in Neville’s cabin enjoying some goat chops. In part, Neville felt it was best to share what he had, but his real reason for inviting Lt. Verley was to discuss the day’s adventure.
“From what I’ve just seen, we need considerable sailing practice. Why such a cockup, Lt. Verley? It did not seem to me that such a maneuver would be particularly troublesome. Have you not encountered such conditions on your passage from England?”
“I have on other ships, yes, but whilst I was much more junior. It were in the Bay of Biscay and the North Sea - but not in this ship, Sir, or with Captain Jennings. He was a cautious man. We’d have had only furled tops’ls. We don’t have the whole company we came over with, either. I don’t like making excuses, Sir. We’ll get it right soon enough.”
“Work the men hard tomorrow. We still need gun drill before I want to meet an enemy.”
Neville decided to change the subject before his first lieutenant’s concern for his position made him so self-conscious that he couldn’t do his job. Neville had seen it before; an officer so worried that he made poor decisions.
“Take a few minutes to remind me of Experiment’s particulars, please, Lt. Verley.”
“She was built in Chatham, Sir. Have you been there?’
“Aye, Lt. Verley, I spent several months there when I was first a midshipman waiting to complete the Castor. She was a frigate of 32 guns, rated as 5th. When she was ready, we sailed straight off to the Med. I was assigned to our pusser at Chatham – a Mr. Goode, strangely enough - to run all his errands, so I saw every part of the yard.”
“Castor, you say. I’ve never heard of her. I was there only about a fortnight. Experiment was almost complete when Captain Jennings and I arrived. He made a few changes with the guns, and we sailed in a very short time for here. She’s a sixth rate frigate of 28 guns built in Chatham, as I just said, and three-masted, as anyone can tell with a quick look. She is one hundred five feet on the gundeck by twenty-seven feet of beam, ten ft. in the bilge, and a freeboard of only seven feet for our ten pairs of upper deck sakers. I’m sure you’ve noticed that the lower deck has two pairs of gunports. There we had the larger demi-culverin, but I can’t imagine what the designers were thinking, because we couldn’t open the ports to deploy them in anything but a flat calm. Cap’n Jennings had those lower ports sealed up, even though you can still see ‘em, and he placed four minions on the quarterdeck and two long minions for foredeck chasers. We believed it would serve well, but we’ve never been in battle. Another advantage is that we do not have to carry the big nine-pound balls.
“Excuse me, Lt. Verley. I’m sorry, but these names for cannon … ‘saker’, demi-culverin’, and ‘minion’ - I’ve heard them before, but we didn’t use them in my previous ships. We simply called them by the weight of ball they throw. If you could refresh me, I’d appreciate it. I should like to take no chance of misunderstanding.”
“Aye, Sir. The sakers are six-pounders, having a range of two hundred yards, or close on one and a half cables. The minions throw a four-pound ball, with a range somewhat over a cable. The long six-pounders forward wouldn’t cause so much damage as the sakers, but they are lighter on the bow and they have a range as much, or maybe more, than the sakers, Sir,”
“Thank you, go ahead.”
“Three more things: The lower deck has ten oar-ports each side. We carry the hamper for stuns’ls; and we have only those three small boats you’ve seen amidships – your gig, a jolly boat and a two-masted launch.”
“A very nice summary, Lt. Verley. Is there is a man aboard you’d call ... inventive? Someone good with his hands on small things? Oh, here, pardon my manners. Would you care for the cheese tray and a glass of claret that Suddicke found in Jennings’ things? I can’t say much for this Jamaican cheese, though, I’m afr
aid. I suppose in this heat it cannot be aged.”
“Thank you Sir. Aye. Carpenter’s mate MacRead, I suggest.”
“The same as I’ve been told is our medical man?”
“Yes, Sir. The same.”
“Speaking of medical things, you saw my limes come aboard, Lt. Verley? See to it that Mr. Gooden pours the juice into the rum barrels as soon as they are opened at the dosage of one sixteenth part per gallon. Explain to the men if you must, but I hereby order it. You will see the result, I promise. While we are on this subject, I’ll have you know that we have another remedy aboard; one for the ague. I obtained some fresh Jesuit’s bark from the Spanish ambassador through Colonel Fuller. He had it brought with cocoa leaves from the Andes Mountains. I know it is doubted at home, but the disease seems even more prevalent here in the tropics than in Europe. The native healers have no question as to the powers of this bark against ague when crushed into powder and served in hot water. It is a bitter drink, but it is not a ‘popish plot’ to make us ill, and we will use it. We cannot survive with a company sprawled sick about the decks. I will say this same to Mr. MacRead.”
“I’ll bother you for one last answer, Lt. Verley. Are there any amongst the company who speak Spanish?”
“Both Franco and Medina do, I believe,” answered Verley, standing. “Shall I pass word?”
“Not for them, but will you call for Mr. MacRead. That’s all I needed tonight, I think. Thank you for the company, Lt. Verley,” said Neville.
“Thank you for the claret, by the way. Very nice. And, Sir, remember what I told you about MacRead. Oh, and I’ve almost forgot. They found your chikin, Sir. She’d got herself all the way in to the bread-room, and is quite a happy hen right now. We’ve a lot fewer weevils, too.”
There was a knock at the door in five minutes. At Neville’s call of “Enter,” Carpenter’s Mate MacRead stepped in, snatching a plaid hat off his head as he did and knuckling his forehead.
“G’dafternoon, Sah. Carpenter’s Mate Hamish MacRead, Sah.”
A small fellow, not much over five feet, the man instantly gave Neville two impressions: ‘hairy’ and ‘wiry’. He was quick of movement, with thin arms and narrow hands. His bearded face was thin as well, with a nose that looked as if it had been shaped that way by a few fists. His beard was long in front and his hair long in back, both tied with a hasty turn of some small stuff. Bad teeth completed the picture.
“Good afternoon, Mr. MacRead. Have a seat.”
“Aye, Sah. Thankee, Sah. Niverbeen in’ear,” he replied, looking ‘round the whole cabin.
Neville decided to get right to the point. “I am told that in addition to being our medical man, you are very good with your hands… good at making or fixing small things. Is that indeed the case?”
“Aye, Sah. Ay think ay am. Can whittle little things – do the scrimshaw.”
“Do you know the quadrant, then?”
“Aye. Had t’fix young gentleman’s couple-a months back when he drapped it.”
“If I give you some drawings of parts I’d like to add to a quadrant, do you think you could make them?
“C’nay say, Sah, ‘til ay see yer sketches, but I’ll give it a trae.”
7 - “Shakedown”
Saturday morning dawned flat calm. The breeze had blown less and less all night, until finally, before the eastern sky began to change from twinkling black to a purple hue, it had died altogether. In the lee of Jamaica, the seas had gone flat as well. The good news is that the calm had not left them with an uncomfortable rolling swell. The bad news was that Neville’s dreams of a profitable day of sail training swirled out the scuppers.
“So be it, Lt. Verley. Gun drill it is. When’s the last time you fired them?”
“That would be about two months ago during our passage from Britain. There was a quiet time after passing the Bay of Biscay. Cap’n was worrying about the possibility that we might meet some French man-o’-war out of Brest. After that, I believe it was his intention to save shot and powder. After Antigua the hands were too weak to work the guns.”
“Right-o. I’ll leave you to it. With this calm, I imagine you’ll have to tow the targets out with the boats. Pass word for me when you are about to fire, if you please.”
Neville went below. The captain’s cabin on Experiment was the finest quarters in which he had ever lived. The whole space was his. A full stern gallery allowed in the most generous light – and at this time of morning he was pleased that the ship had drifted ‘round such that the sun left him in the shade as it shown full on the bows, leaving him a view of the blue sea to the west. He did not take more than a moment to admire it, and walked to his desk in search of paper and a charcoal pencil. His floor was a canvas of black and white squares, which he was amused to see, had been the custom since this time and earlier. There were but two of the ship’s guns within his cabin, and they were each covered with first the normal tarpaulin material and atop that a light green chintz that matched his bed cover and small curtains at the gallery windows. He had not modified anything since coming aboard, feeling some respect for the past captain. He told himself that it was a silly sentiment, but at the same time, he knew he could do no better by himself and also had no reason to make a change. He made a mental note to ask Vincent if the cabin had been decorated by Captain Jennings’ wife.
He sat at the small highly polished desk and straightened the paper in front of him.
Suddicke’s inquiry, “Do you require anything, Sir?” startled him. By no means had he become accustomed to having a servant, but he had been assured by Lt. Verley that he should not redirect Mr. Suddicke’s efforts. “There are times when I have seen the captain so exhausted that he needed assistance simply to dress himself,” Verley had said.
“Yes, Mr. Suddicke. Another pot of coffee would be splendid.” He was finding himself increasingly fond of the fresh Jamaican coffee, and had already drunk a pot with breakfast.
“I will need two small mirrors mounted at right angle to the face of the quadrant,” he mumbled, “and a small telescope or viewing tube fastened on, as well. I may have to fiddle with the mirrors until I have them right, and I will certainly need some smoked glass between my eye and the sun. He made a reasonable sketch of the quadrant using his navigating rules and two additional sketches of the mirror supports. “I wonder how much of this….”
“Lt. Verley’s compliments, Sir, and they are ready above to fire,” announced Suddicke.
As Neville stepped up to the quarterdeck, he could see that a very slight breeze had begun to ruffle the water, but it was not from the northeast as it had been the previous day. The ship had drifted completely around to point into the breeze and the boats had towed the targets off to the north. The two targets had begun floating farther away.
“Proceed, Lt. Verley.”
Verley quickly gave a signal to Lt. Ratshaw to ‘fire number one’.
“Lt. Verley,” said Neville quietly, “That target is the enemy. What sail will you clap on?”
The second midshipman, with whom Neville had so far spent very little time, was Mr. Edward Stokes, the newest officer aboard. His forward gun fired, and a water spout rose half a cable to the left of the target, but at the correct range. A straggling cheer wandered through to ship’s company.
“Sail, Sir?”
“Yes, sail. The target is a French man-o’-war, and she has got wind now, as we have. The wind is from….?”
“The south, Sir. We have the weather gage,” he added excitedly. “The game is afoot.”
“Exactly, my friend. What is your next order? The gunners are looking to you.”
“Fire number two, and look to the sail, Sir, yes?”
He waved a signal to Stokes to fire number two. “Jibs and spanker, Sir. Send the watch aloft. Keep the enemy downwind. Forereach, but out of range, until we can slide over and give ‘em a broadside.”
The deck shivered again as number two fired. A splash leaped close on a correct bearing to the
target, but half a cable long.
“The seas are calm, Lt. Verley. I don’t like what I see. Why are we so inaccurate?”
“I have been taught that cannon are for close range, Sir. Accuracy is not paramount. We must come close alongside before we fire liberally, and be cautious of the enemy’s guns. We do not, of all things, wish to lose the ship.”
The concept espoused by Verley took Neville aback for a moment before he recognized it for what it was – a tactic proven outdated by the years – the idea that the key to success was to batter the enemy in close combat rather than to destroy him from a distance and avoid losses to your own.
“Lt. Verley, pass forward my offer of an extra ration of rum to the gun crew that hits target number one first. If they hit target number two, they lose a day’s tobacco. One shot per gun, and fire as she bears as the gun captain decides. After that, we will wear ship, breeze permitting, and try starboard guns.” It only took a boy overhearing to pass word. He scampered forward like a hound after the fox.
Every larboard gun had fired within the next three minutes and the ship was wearing on jib alone, the mizzen coming into play to finish the turn. Target number one floated happily on the blue water to the north. Neville stood mute at the forward quarterdeck rail.
“Do you not wish to order the guns, Sir?” inquired Verley.
“No, lieutenant. If the gun captains cannot defend us, we are already dead men. One shot for each gun, no more,” he added.
Starboard gun five obliterated target number two. It was neither damaged nor wounded. It became tiny bits of flotsam - a direct hit.
“Lt. Verley, be sure they get their tot, pass word for the gun captain, and go ‘round for another try with the same offer,” ordered Neville.
By six bells of the morning watch (11 a.m.) the breeze had increased enough to make handling the ship possible. She could make way at near two knots if left in a straight line, but the loss of speed in wearing ship resulted in a very slow process. They were in no hurry, though, and Neville thought the need for gun drill exceeded any need for a speedy circumnavigation of Jamaica.
A Journal of The Experiment at Jamaica (The Neville Burton 'Worlds Apart' Series Book 2) Page 10
