Verley had recovered to a reasonable state fairly quickly. It would be a while before he was walking, but he would not be dying soon, or even losing a limb as a result of the gunshot. The ball had passed cleanly through his calf, striking not bone or major arteries and not remaining in the leg to cause lead poisoning. There had been blood loss, of course, but a tight bandage was keeping that largely under control.
The rumor was that the French governor, Pierre-Paul Tarin deCussy, had been killed in the battle. His death had been the last straw to send the enemy into retreat. Hundreds of them had been killed in the engagement, along with an unknown number of Spanish troops, but the British and Jamaican losses were small. Only two of the seamen from Experiment and three from Comtesse had injuries.
A signal broke out at the mizzen of Mary.
“Almost dusk, and Captain Wright is calling us over. I doubt he’s inviting us to dinner. I will go alone and inform him of your health.”
Experiment’s gig ran carefully against the hull of the flagship and Neville, well aware of his tenuous position aboard the big ship, advised the coxswain to stand close by.
Once in Wright’s cabin, again after waiting several minutes to consider his standing, the great Captain threw a paper rudely on the desk in front of him. Captain Radford was with him again.
“Where is Lieutenant Verley?” he demanded, emphasizing the rank.
“He was injured in the leg, Sir, but not seriously. He is still fit for command, but climbing is not recommended for fear of blood loss.
“Hmmpf,” said Wright, and indicated that Neville should pick up the letter. As he did, Wright said, “It’s from General Gonzalez. That much I can work out. Can you read it?”
“Yes, Sir. It is from the….”
“That explains it then,” Wright interrupted. “I should have smoked it. You speak Spanish, then?”
“Middlin’ well, Sir, but I’m no ex…..”
“What did he tell you before the battle? I gave you direct orders to take the center,” Wright interrupted again.
“He said he would have no ‘untrained sailors in the middle of his battle’ were his words, I think, Sir, and ordered us to perform the flanking maneuver as we did. It was a good thing we….”
Another interruption, this time by Radford, “What does the letter say then, if you please, Lieutenant.”
Neville looked at it again. “It is from General Gonzalez, as you said, aboard the La Conception this afternoon after the battle. He thanks the British and you most graciously for coming to their aid in removing this pestilence from their island…”
Wright and Radford looked at each other in apparent relief, and Wright leaned back more comfortably in his chair.
Neville continued, now doing the best he could to suppress a smile, “He asks that you also pass his regards and thankfulness to the British and Jamaican land forces and their gallant leaders for an exceptional flanking maneuver that assured victory today.”
Captain Wright raised his bulk from the chair and fixed his black ferret eyes on Burton, “Zounds. You made up that last sentence, did you not?”
“No, Sir. I would never….”
A last interruption by Wright was welcome: “Here are your orders. Take this one to Lt. Verley, and get off my ship.” His slimy smile returned.
This time Neville took his time sauntering to the sally port. He turned slowly aft and saluted the colours. Seeing that his gig was quickly returning to the ship’s side, he then turned to the lieutenant who was officer of the day, looked him in the eye, and quietly said, “Good day, lieutenant,” but did not salute. He went quickly down the ladder to his gig, with no expectation of being piped off, and was rowed back to Comtesse as the sun disappeared into Hispaniola.
“I was correct, you see?” Neville joked to Vincent. He had come over personally to deliver the orders from Wright, and to describe his meeting. “We were not invited to dinner. You didn’t miss a thing. Not even drinks. A very poor host is the commodore.” He then described reading the letter, which started the two of them to hooting with laughter.
“Oh, I mustn’t laugh! It sets my leg to ache something fierce,” complained Vincent as tears of mixed joy and pain rolled down his cheeks. “Oh, see. That has started it bleeding again.”
“Fensham!” called Neville. A short skinny fellow with black greasy hair popped into the cabin instantly – Vincent’s cabin steward. “A brandy and more bandages, if you please.”
Fensham popped out and back quickly, returning in a minute with the requested items. “Tie that leg a bit better, and tight,” Neville said to Fensham. “We must read these orders now. I expect we’ll be sent away at first light, if not before.”
“Here we go,” he continued, “Our orders, above all this gobble-dee-goop about the illustrious and all-important Commodore Wright, are to leave this place…. Ah, look. He has allowed us ‘til morning – probably not his idea… and sail our forces into the cul-de-sac, thence to lay waste to Léogane and Petit Goâve under the protection of his almighty fleet. The Jamaicans will have no problems with that, I think. We are not personally ordered to lead the attacks, either. I’m sure that’s an oversight that his clerk didn’t point out. If I might use your desk a moment to write copies of this for Lord Aaron, Wasp and Beagle, I’ll leave you to recover. We’ll heave short at first light.”
Exactly eight days later the two small frigates and three armed sloops sailed into Port Royal Bay. A cheer rose from each ship as anchor cables roared out hawse holes into aqua waters and sails were furled tight to the yards. Bum boats full of the supplies and the pleasures of Port Royal had already left the piers and beaches, and Neville was preparing to take a few days’ shore leave as well as visit Spanish Town to pay his respects to the governor and give a report of their exploits. He would take Verley and two of the injured Comtesse seamen to the Fullers’ and leave them for Thomas to take a careful look at their injuries while he visited the governor alone.
Still without Thomas’ blessing to ask for Maria’s hand, he stole a long kiss from his sweetheart, gave Vincent strict but tongue-in-cheek orders to ‘keep your eyes off my lady’, and left.
The governor’s offices were in a very formal building, of course, but Neville decided he liked it for its quiet and coolness. Even on a hot day, the interior of the massive stone building remained a comfortable temperature, and if a light breeze blew, it was all the nicer. Large potted plants stood in the corners, and the heavy doors gave a feeling of security.
“So you claim success, then?” asked Governor Inchiquin.
“I expect you will be pleased to know that all three of France’s largest settlements on Hispaniola lie in ruins, Governor. Their soldiers have been put to rout and their buildings burned. Your soldiers are sated with plunder, and many filibusters lie dead. I believe they will not bother our shipping for some time.”
“I have heard from Cap Francois,” said the governor. “A packet brought me this while you were visiting Léogane and Petit Goâve.” He tapped an envelope on his desk with a finger that looked even bonier than the last time Neville had seen it. “It says three hundred were killed at Cap Francois, and deCussy is dead. This is good news for sure. Three hundred filibusters would fill many pirate ships. However, it also contains some bad news. Wright is at his tricks.”
“What now, Sir?”
“You are ordered to Barbados to assist in an attack on Guadeloupe. After the assistance they gave Jamaica in this last adventure at Hispaniola, I feel I cannot refuse them our help in the Lesser Antilles. We also have wonderful news from the Spanish regarding our friend Laurens de Graaf. It seems he attacked somewhere on Santo Domingo at a very inopportune time and was soundly defeated by Spanish forces three times his number. He barely escaped, they say. It should be as good a time as any to leave us with only one frigate. I will write you the same letter as before, but be careful around Captain Wright.”
“It is well that we are not both ordered thither. Captain Verley has been in
jured.”
14 - “Passage to Barbados”
The turquoise and aqua waters of Port Royal Harbor quickly gave way to the deep blue of open ocean. The water was streaked with the ridges of small waves marching westward and spotted with the shadows of puffy round white clouds that sprinkled the otherwise blue morning sky. Experiment began adding sail after her salute to Fort Charles. A good sailing breeze, though not fair for Barbados, blew steadily across Experiment’s port bow, and she leaned away increasingly as each new sail was sheeted home.
Captain Neville Burton drew himself tall on the quarterdeck as his new homeland of Jamaica began to sink slowly astern. He noted that he worried slightly more each time he sailed away from the woman he loved, and a small tear formed in his eye as he took in a great breath of salty air. Was it the salt in the air affecting his eye or was it his emotions? He certainly felt a lump in his throat and a knot in his belly.
Lieutenant Ratshaw walked up behind him. “Full and by, Sir,” he reported, shaking Neville away from his thoughts.
“So I see, Lt. Ratshaw. I can feel it as well. She rides heavily doesn’t she?” Experiment had taken three weeks to provision for an estimated two-month voyage to Barbados and back.
“Yes, Sir, and she’ll be slow, but we should have enough to eat for some time.”
“All the same, make sure the depth in the well is writ on the board every turn of the glass. Let’s be sure we’re not hauling seawater to Barbados. We can still turn back if need be.”
At two days out there was still confusion among the newer men going about their duties. At three days, some frustration began to show as the warrant and petty officers provoked the slower men to perform their work. At four days, there was punishment for three small offences arising from minor back-talking that came with lack of sleep associated with the beginning of a long voyage. Blessed with generally small seas but boisterous winds, sail changes were necessary several times a day, though rarely urgent enough to require all hands. Routine was taking hold by day seven. Holystoning the decks and flogging them dry in the morning, tarring the rigging, meals, make-and-mend, and Sunday church swam by in regular fashion. Neville had decided to make a routine of running out the windward guns every three or four days as weather permitted. There was no need for sail practice, though, because the men were getting experience with every sail in Experiment’s hold except the downwind studdingsails. Square sails, staysails, and jibs all took their turns aloft and were being taken down more frequently for re-stitching as the days wore on.
Neville usually had no difficulty passing time when at sea. His preference was to appear on deck at any hour of the day or night in an effort to convince himself that his entire company was alert. He wrote letters to Maria. They would likely stay aboard all the way to Barbados before they found a ride back to Jamaica, but there was a small chance they would speak a westbound ship, so he kept them ready. He read the three books he had borrowed from the Fuller library and studied the fourth – a proper text on the Spanish language Maria had helped him find in Spanish Town. He spent a small amount of time talking with Seaman Franco, his one remaining Spanish-speaking crewman. The other, Medina, had gone into the Comtesse. The move had made Franco more interested in an opportunity to speak his own language, and the resulting conversations, usually about some aspect of life aboard, began to give Neville a better insight into his men.
A good part of his daylight hours were spent taking exercise by pacing to and fro on the quarterdeck, taking the occasional climb to the maintop with a long glass if the lookout raised a question of sail or land, discussing the day’s progress with the officer of the day, accepting visits by anyone requesting some of his time for ship’s business, writing his log and journal, approving sail changes, assisting Mr. Greaves in teaching navigation, and observing gun drill. There were always the meals, of course. On this voyage, he had promised to start the education of Mr. Walshe, the newest of their midshipmen, in addition to his already busy days. He had begun earlier with Mr. Stokes. Walshe, however, who had volunteered when Experiment went short on midshipmen again due to the sharing out of officers with Comtesse du Provence, had not begun.
Day fourteen found Experiment hove to under staysails while a particularly strong trade wind howled in the rigging. Neville considered that it might not have been truly necessary to heave to, but they would make little headway into both wind and wave, and it was a bit of practice they had not had. The following day found the wind eased enough to continue. Another dozen days found them just east of the southern Windward Islands and reaching north for Barbados.
Once again, Mr. Greaves was consulted on the approach. “I’ve only been in here once, Sir, on the Mordaunt, and now that’s close on four year ago. We came in from the East – from England, and I remember the water ‘round it to be brown for leagues. We used the lead for a day, but found no soundings. Carlisle Bay is on the west at the south end of the island, and it has a great reef out from it; that much I remember, as well as that it is not a comfortable place. We anchored in the open roadstead, as there is no good harbor.”
“We should see the great fleet when we are close. That many ships should give us a good idea where to anchor. And we’ll not go in except as we have good light and an easy wind, as well as a pilot, I hope.”
“Yes, I remember. I sailed in here once myself as prize commander. It took us hours to tack inshore. That old pig Swan was with us; she was worse”
Neville had been using his sextant and his watch to make his best approximation of the longitude. His Dutch chart of the Caribbean had proven to be quite accurate on the calculations of several islands, and he had had recent opportunities to check his references as they passed between Grenada and Trinidad. Nevertheless, they had a shock as light gathered in the east on their twenty-eighth day at sea. Mr. Shield in the maintop called “Land, Ho,” well before a glow in the east announced the coming of the morning sun. Mr. Walshe, acting as Midshipman of the Watch, had gone up himself to look, wondering how the lookout could make the call in the dark. He slid to the quarterdeck on a backstay and landed the moment that Neville, who had previously been sleeping lightly, arrived by the wheel thinking of a pot of coffee.
“Someone called land?” he asked of Walshe.
“Aye, Sir. Lookout did. There, off the starboard bow. You see it?”
Neville squinted into the darkness for a full minute, finally answering, “No, but I fear dirty weather may be almost upon us. I see no stars there to the east.”
“Exactly, Sir. That’s it. Barbados. The island blocks the stars we are so close. No question now, you see; the morning light’s a bit more. Greaves can tell you where we are around it.”
Mr. Greaves hove himself up the steps from the waist.
“Heave to, Mr. Greaves,” ordered Neville. “I would prefer not to come ashore the hard way, or to be neaped in front of the fleet,” With his heart pounding faster in the realization that they could have struck the island in the dark, he forced himself to present his most nonchalant appearance, which was easier without enough light for them to see his startled face. “You have the ship, Mr. Greaves. Hold her here until we have better light. I’m going down to have Suddicke get a pot on the boil. Join me for breakfast later, if you please.”
“Aye, Sir. That’s Needham’s Point just there,” Greaves said, pointing at a very tall, black space in the now-purple eastern sky.
“That is where we are going, isn’t it? – as the chart shows?”
“Aye, Sir.”
“Breakfast, then,” he said, walking for his companion and hiding a great smile. They’ll be talking about my expert navigation for weeks. That was more than a little luck.
Captain Burton and Sailing Master Greaves enjoyed a breakfast with eggs and fresh ham while the ship wallowed in a manner unfamiliar to their last month. The light grew stronger while they ate, and by the time they were finished they walked on deck to view a surprising scene. Once the sun rose over Needham’s Point they would be
squinting into its harsh light, but for a few minutes more they would be able to see the anchorage clearly. There was no question in Greaves’ mind that it was the landfall they sought, but the anchorage was empty save a few trading sloops and a navy packet boat. There was also a small guard boat approaching them.
By mid-morning Experiment was at anchor off Bridgetown and her captain gone ashore to pay the ship’s respects to Governor Kendall. The governor did not allow much time to see Neville, and the meeting was uneventful except for learning that Wright and his fleet had left ten days prior. He was surprised at Colonel Kendall’s greeting: “A pleasure, sir, to meet Lord Inchiquin’s private captain. You look familiar.”
“Aye, Sir. We met once on the guard boat when you arrived here in the Swan. You have quite a memory for faces, then.”
“I do, Captain, verily. As to your orders, Commodore Wright seemed annoyed that you were not sent directly to Guadeloupe. In the end, he left his orders for you to proceed as escort together with Tiger, to convoy two of the recently-arrived supply ships to join the fleet at Marie-Galante.”
After spending four days taking on water and wood and then waiting for the supply ships and Tiger, the little flotilla stood for Marie-Galante, which is a small island about thirty leagues distant to the north and very near Guadeloupe wither the fleet had sailed. Neville assumed Wright’s attitude toward him was well known throughout his fleet. That suspicion seemed confirmed when convoy commander James Barber of Tiger made no more contact than to send a message for Experiment to take the rear station in his convoy.
A Journal of The Experiment at Jamaica (The Neville Burton 'Worlds Apart' Series Book 2) Page 23
