A Journal of The Experiment at Jamaica (The Neville Burton 'Worlds Apart' Series Book 2)

by Georges Carrack

  Thirty leagues’ sail could be two days with a following wind and gentle seas, but Tiger and her convoy did not enjoy such weather. Often contrary and rarely fair for the Leewards, fickle winds plagued them the entire passage, and at times did not blow at all. Furthermore, neither the two merchant ships nor the Tiger sailed as well as Experiment. Neville felt the frustration growing on the ship’s company. Greaves complained daily about the course they sailed, but rather less after being reminded that giving the French headquarters at Martinique a very wide berth was the right thing to do. The men grumbled that the convoy caused them the extra work of sail changes; furling and reefing continually to sail more slowly, and there was not much denying that.

  It was early April when Mr. Worth cried out from the foretop that Tiger was signaling land. They had sailed to windward of the island chain and now sailed downwind between Marie-Galante and Guadeloupe, passing between them as the sun went down. The crew’s mood changed remarkably with the simple act of sailing on a fair wind for the first time in more than a month. Shortly before darkness enveloped them, the fleet was observed at anchor off Grand-Bourg on the southwest side of Marie-Galante. The logical choice was to heave to and wait for morning, but the outcome of that was to waste another full day clawing eastward into the first strong wind they had encountered on the entire passage. The moment the four anchors were down at the start of the first dog watch, they were greeted by the ‘pop’ of a foredeck minion on Mary and Wright’s ‘banner of council’ flag on her starboard quarter.

  Neville’s gig was swayed out quickly, and his gig crew, pleased at a change in routine, rowed him across the anchorage smartly. He followed Captain Barber up the side, expecting the drumming and piping to stop when his head appeared above the gunwale. When it did not, he concluded that Wright had simply not remembered to tell them otherwise. The two merchant masters followed him up, and all four were shown to the Commodore’s cabin. Wright waited there with a man he then introduced to his ‘guests’ as General Codrington. It was indeed the same man that had ordered Neville and his men up Brimstone Hill at St. Christopher. Neither made any indication of recognition.

  The commodore did not keep them waiting. He was in a foul mood, though. Greetings, if such it would have been called, were short. To the dismay of the merchant masters, Wright began a rant disparaging the merchant navy in general and then the islands of the Caribbean. Before he had gone very far in that direction he was brought up by Codrington, whom Neville knew to be Governor of Antigua by the many references made to him by Governor Inchiquin. It was Neville’s guess that they had been arguing before he arrived, since they had both been red-faced when the newcomers walked in. Wright returned to his complaints about the condition of his ships and his want of stores. The ships were all in poor repair and leaked badly, he said, many with sprung masts and other conditions that had necessitated his hiring of several merchant ships for carrying all the soldiers.

  General Christopher Codrington was a middle-aged man who appeared to be a robust individual, though a bit tired, sharp of eye and wit. He stood an inch under a fathom in height, but that last inch was hidden by the large curly black wig he wore. His face was double-chinned but surprisingly pale considering the amount of time he spent the Caribbean sun. He stood rigidly, as an officer would, but was not wearing a red army uniform. His voice had the confident air of either money or command, which Neville knew to be both. Neville was pleased at his presence, since he was evidently going to be a quieting influence on Commodore Wright.

  “We have our problems, gentlemen,” said the general, himself discernibly irritated by the commodore’s whining bombast, “but not here at Marie-Galante any longer. Our regiments will be embarked on the morrow and we shall sail to Guadeloupe. We have laid waste to this ugly island and, God willing; will do the same to Guadeloupe. We will leave no people here at all.”

  Turning to the merchant masters, he said, “We are most pleased to hear of your arrival, as we are sorely in need of stores. You will carry the last forty Frenchmen away from here tomorrow and transfer your stores to the Admiral’s ships once we are at anchor on the other side of Guadeloupe. Then you may take your passengers to Barbados.” Pleased to part from Wright, they immediately stamped out.

  To Wright he queried, “Are we finished here, then? I should like to return to my quarters.”

  “Certainly, you may go,” Wright answered dismissively. “But you two will stay,” he said to the navy captains. Codrington did not immediately leave, as if purposely waiting to observe the commodore’s continuing performance. “Captain Barber, I don’t need you here for anything else, either. Fall in to your normal place in the line when we stand for the next miserable island. And you, Lieutenant Beeton,” he continued, again emphasizing the rank and saying the name wrong – intentionally? “It’s about time you arrived. Been hiding somewhere, have you?”

  Neville did not rise to his goading, answering simply, “No, Sir. We sailed as directly to Barbados as the Good Lord allowed, and waited as Governor Kendall ordered to sail with the convoy.” Maybe, if he doesn’t remember my name, I’m better off.

  “Experiment is a sluggardly ship, is she?”

  “No, Sir! She….” he began, showing a bit of incipient anger as this last goading worked.

  “Excuse me, Lt. Burton,” interrupted Codrington, “but how is Governor Kendall?”

  “He seemed fine, Sir, but I saw him for only a few minutes.”

  “Very well, Governor, if you wish to coddle this upstart, you may have him as we discussed,” said Wright. “Everyone please leave my cabin now. The morrow will be here soon enough. Good evening to you.”

  He followed General Codrington out the door. Once outside, he was motioned to continue. He followed the man to his cabin on the deck below. Neville found it impressive that a forty-four gun ship would have two such galleried cabins.

  “It’s Burton, isn’t it, Captain? Not Beeton,” asked Codrington in a hushed voice. “You’re Lord Inchiquin’s fellow, yes? I’ve wanted to meet you. We must make this short, and quiet. The walls on these ships aren’t even walls, as you know, and they have ears.”

  “Aye, Sir. Thank you, and yes.”

  “I think I see already why Inchiquin writes well of you, and I do remember you from St. Christopher last year. Good job with the guns! Damned shame what happened. We had no idea where you went. To Colonel Fuller’s I understand. He’s a good man! You like him?”

  “Very much, Sir.”

  “Seen his daughter, have you?”

  “Aye Sir. We’re to wed next year.”

  “Now I am impressed. Taking Fuller’s pride and joy from him must have been a tough battle. I wish I had a man like you, and not this Captain Wright. He’s the most disagreeable…. Never mind. See here, I’ve asked for a regiment of sailors, and he’s given me you, among others. You’ll need to choose half your company to man the ship and half to come ashore. We don’t want to fail at taking Guadeloupe away from the Frenchies for want of a few men.”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Have your men ready to go when we land on Guadeloupe. Wait, they don’t carry matchlocks, do they?”

  “No, Sir, firelocks all ‘round.”

  “Good enough for now, then. Off you go.”

  Log of Experiment

  15th April, 1691

  Weighed anchor 3 bells of the forenoon watch and stood to windward for the western shore of Guadalupe. Strong breeze nor-nor-west. Full sun. Sea 4 feet N. There must be a current flowing south around this island. We have beat all day against this breeze sailing 3 to 4 knots, but have not managed to weather the Les Saintes.

  “With all respect, Sir, might I ask what we are doing?” asked Lt. Ratshaw of Neville at noon the next day. “Are we not supposed to be sailing to the north of this island?”

  “I thought so, Lt. Ratshaw, but we are signaled to stay on station. Perhaps we go to the aid of that merchantman there straight to the east of us, you see? I have no idea why he is there, and
why all of us go is a mystery to me. Being part of a fleet is something I am certainly not used to.”

  Log of Experiment,

  16th April, 1691

  Nor-nor-west Winde less. Full sun. Sea 3 feet Northe …. Hove to from two to four bells of the afternoon watch while assistance was given to a merchantmen with a broken fore-yard. Reset sail and again beat up for the west of Guadeloupe. The Current continues, and again could not weather Les Saintes. Returned to Anchor at Marie-Galante.

  The unusual contrary winds continued into the next few days, but on Saturday the 18th, they finally weathered the Les Saintes Islands and passed by the chief town and port of Guadeloupe and the more northerly town of Bayllif.

  The sound of cannon fire was heard toward the van of the fleet in mid-afternoon, and shortly thereafter, the sounds of beating to quarters and clearing for action were clearly heard from the frigate ahead of them, which was Tiger. The signal for ‘enemy’ broke out at her mizzen top.

  “Beat to quarters, Lt. Ratshaw. Clear for action!”

  Lt. Ratshaw passed the order to Boatswain Tilburne and Mr. Greaves, crossed the quarterdeck to where Neville stood, and pointed forward to land. “Come look at this, Captain,” he urged, and passed his glass to Neville. Tilburne’s whistle and the drums and calls below rose to a fever pitch. Ratshaw raised his voice almost to a shout as the marines tramped past. “Mary, in the van some two miles forward, has fired upon that platform up there, and it appears that the rest of us in turn are ordered to do the same. I see no enemy ships.”

  “You are correct, I believe,” said Neville. “Look now, Lt. Ratshaw. There is the smoke of cannon fire at the platform and you can see the occasional flash of a gun. Why would we attack a shore battery? We are at a clear disadvantage. Thank God I don’t see smoke from a shot furnace.”

  Being already in Wright’s bad graces, Neville felt he had no choice but to follow. “Mr. Greaves, loose sails to lag behind Tiger. When we have room, we shall then pass the Bayllif battery as quickly as Experiment can sail while firing at maximum elevation. If naught else, we shall have starboard gun drill. One broadside only; I do not wish to waste powder and shot on such nonsense.”

  Experiment’s pass through the gauntlet of Bayllif ended in the sort of disaster Captain Wright seemed unable to comprehend. A lucky ball from the fort dislodged her main topmast, which toppled forward like some broken tree limb with an old bed sheet caught in it. Fortunately, there were no injuries except one man hurt by a falling sheet block. MacRead had the man splinted and back up within the hour, but the considerable work of repair would take much longer. Neville gained even further distrust of Wright’s orders. He later learned that Wright’s losses on Mary were far more severe.

  Marine Sergeant Daweson requested his attention: “Is not the plan to land this evening, Sir? Am I to have my men ready?”

  “Aye, Sergeant. It was my understanding that we were to land troops tonight, but after this debacle, I doubt we will follow the plan. You see,” he said, pointing forward, “now the fleet stands offshore and downwind. We will never regain land this evening. You may have your men stand down.”

  “Lt. Ratshaw, did you hear? The men may stand down. Put my cabin back together.”

  The breeze freshened as the sun sank, blowing the fleet farther offshore during the night. A following cycle of contrary winds then prevented them from returning to the island; it was two days before they anchored off a pretty strand in a small curve of the shoreline.

  “This place is not Anse Le Barque, Sir. It’s not where we planned. Why do we anchor here?” asked Lt. Ratshaw with Sgt. Daweson by his side.

  “I know not. I am becoming more confused at the direction of Commodore Wright, but…. Turn your glass there, Lt. Ratshaw. I think I see a small boat going in.”

  “Yes, Sir, it is. It’s a mite distant, but it may be General Codrington in the stern sheets.”

  Neville took the glass and trained it on the activity, “Get our shore party ready, gentlemen. There are others in small boats leaving the ships for shore now. The dispatch boat will bring our orders shortly, I’m sure. Lt. Ratshaw, you have command ‘till I return.”

  15 - “Sudden Recall”

  Captain Burton took forty men ashore, marines and sailors together, in the ship’s boats. There was no resistance from the enemy. Not a shot was fired. That was fortunate because the landing party was not as well organized as it should have been.

  “Captain,” called a marine lieutenant the moment Neville stepped out of his gig, “Take your men there,” he ordered, pointing down the strand to a hastily established command post. Neville happily realized that the man was clearly not privy to Commodore Wright’s feeling towards him.

  “Aye, aye,” he responded. After waiting a few minutes for the rest of the Experimentals to disembark, he sent the boats back to the ship. Sgt. Daweson quickly gave up on marching his men in proper formation once he realized the difficulty of moving in the fluffy white coral sand. Even at the water’s edge, the footing was watery and unfirm. Heavy, moisture-laden air and the smell of jungle enveloped them as they plodded forward, but it took only a few minutes to walk the length of the strand to the command post. At the marine cordon surrounding it, he was stopped by another lieutenant who was polite enough to touch his hat.

  “What ship, Captain?” he asked.

  “Experiment, Lieutenant. Captain Burton.”

  He referred to a paper he carried. It was already becoming soggy with the sweat of his hands and the humidity. “You’re with Major Nott and Lord Hamilton – over there.” By a wag of his head, he indicated two very properly attired marine officers talking to General Codrington at the far side of the cordon. Neville left his men to rest whilst he reported.

  “Ah, there you are, Captain Burton,” said the general as he walked up. “How many men?”

  “Twenty marines and twenty seamen, Sir.”

  “Excellent. These are Lord Hamilton and Major Nott, whom I hold in the highest regard as soldiers. You’ll be with their command. Gentlemen, Captain Burton.”

  They both cast their eyes quickly over him as if he were a chicken loose in a barnyard. Major Nott responded, “Pleased to meet you, Captain. We will assemble at the south end of the strand in one half hour. That man there,” he added, pointing to another marine officer, “is Colonel Williams. He will command a Marine regiment and some companies of the Antigua militia – that’s the blue regiment - who will follow us up.” He turned back to the conversation the commanders were having over a map of the island.

  At the appointed time, the Experimentals began moving toward a steep ravine visible at the inner edge of the strand.

  “There must be five hundred of us, Captain; maybe six,” marveled Sgt. Daweson. “We are the fourth company in line, and there are several hundred men behind us.”

  The strange calls of birds and other animals they had heard when they arriving on shore were gone now as they entered the jungle ravine that led to their objective above. The gully was heavily forested up both sides. They were instantly struck by the quiet; the only sounds were of men’s boots crunching rocks and twigs, the clanking of weapons, and the labored breathing. The narrowness of the gully made the jungle seem even closer and the moist air heavier. Breathing was an act of swallowing thick wet air. Into the ravine only a few feet, the ground began to rise. Neville led the group, followed by the sailors, Mr. Temis, Experiment’s Master-at-Arms, and Experiment’s marines. Sgt. Daweson brought up the rear.

  They had started two abreast, but that lasted for only ten steps. It will take forever to get six hundred men up top in a single file, thought Neville. However, since it was not his to change, they climbed on. The ground became steeper, and they climbed with the aid of tree branches, vines, roots, and wet rocks. The steamy air smelt of decaying leaves and some kind of sticky fruit. They at last reached a place where the vegetation was thinner, but it was no blessing, for the path became one of loose stones, and the men were forced to clamber almost
on hands and knees and pass their weapons up one to the other in order to climb. After a full half hour, they reached the summit of a small hill.

  “There is no enemy here, Sgt. Daweson,” Neville remarked. “Major Nott said we might meet resistance here.”

  “That’s fortunate for us,” said Daweson, “They could have stopped the lot of us with twenty men.”

  “The French must not have expected us to land here, said Neville. I thought we were in the wrong place. We’re not to the top yet, though. Tell the men we’ll have a few minutes to rest. It gets wider above, I see.”

  They began again. The path widened enough to allow walking three abreast, but the forest on each side could not be penetrated without machetes or cutlasses. Musket fire began at the front of the column, and the smoke of black powder wafted slowly down the gully. Forward progress slowed. Rounding a bend in the path, they found a less thickly wooded grove to the left and a lightly manned breastwork across the path.

  Major Nott, ahead of them, was frantically waving troops past himself and up into the grove in order to outflank the enemy behind the breastwork. The noise of yelling men, the occasional scream of pain and the popping of musket fire masked by dense woods echoed through the smoky ravine.

  Lord Hamilton was also atop the gully organizing the arrivals. After a short while, he was joined by Major Nott. They were passing word to each officer who came up: “We are informed that when the enemy saw our ships anchor here some two hundred quitted Anse La Barque and rode here, but we haven’t seen many of them yet.”

  Having then assembled about seven companies of men on the thinly treed field above, the two led a quick advance upon the French.