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

by Georges Carrack

  He handed the glass back to Silas, slid to the deck on a backstay, and called for Mr. Greaves. The sailing master appeared quickly, still chewing on the last of his biscuit and smelling of a mixture of onion and garlic.

  “All she’ll carry, Mr. Greaves,” he commanded. “We must crack on and catch the fleet. We will then be in a better position to assist if we are needed. At worst, Wright will chastise us for failing to keep station. Set a course to windward of the fleet and call me if anything changes.” He went below to shave, have breakfast, and dress properly; maybe he would even have time to pen Maria a letter.

  Experiment passed Tiger in less than one turn of the glass. She was sailing slowly with the patience to keep her station. Confirming his suspicions, she raised the flag for ‘enemy’, but did nothing to suggest Experiment should stop or even slow down, and neither did she increase sail. Neville was called up for the event, ordered the ‘acknowledge’ banner raised, and went below with no other change of orders.

  In half an hour, Midshipman Walshe knocked on Neville’s cabin door and relayed an urgent request for the captain topside.

  “They’re all about us now, Captain,” reported Lt. Ratshaw. Forward there is Mary, chasing a French man-o-war. What I don’t understand is why Mary does not even fly her t’garns’ls, while her chase looks to have all sail abroad. For a while, she looked to be chasing Antelope, which made even less sense. Bristol has crossed our stern in chase of another, and unless they change course, the Frenchie may be on the rocks at the Saintes soon. This one ahead, who looks to be a small French man-o-war, may be heading to assist the ship Bristol is chasing, and Antelope is to leeward of Mary – see her hull down there? – She’s in chase of yet another Frenchman even farther to leeward.”

  “You really should have called me sooner, Lieutenant. I would be sorry to have missed this excitement. We should not be left out of it, either. That one there, sailing to obstruct Bristol; let’s raise our colours and go after her. She looks more our size. What do you think, a twenty-gun brig?”

  “Aye, Sir.”

  “Come about to intercept.” Lt. Ratshaw passed the order to Tilburne to call all hands, and the ship soon leaned to her new course on an intercept for the French brig.

  “She has noticed us, Captain!” Midshipman Stokes shouted. “She’s raising her colours, and she bears off.” A wave larger than normal pounded the bows, sending spray to the topsails and back to the quarterdeck.

  “Oh, ho, Captain! Experiment wants to run!”

  “She does indeed, gentlemen,” said Neville. “Change course to chase and loose sheets for a quartering run. Lively on the braces, there!” he shouted to the landsmen below. Overhearing, Walshe already had the marines moving at the mizzen.

  “Pass word for the gunner, if you please, Mr. Tilburne. We’ll see if he thinks the long minion will reach her.”

  “Not a chance sir. She’s still most of a league ahead, by my eyes,” Russell intoned when he stepped up.

  “Set yourself up on the foredeck, Mr. Russell. You’ll be in range soon. We are gaining; I’m certain of it.”

  Gooden, MacRead, Chips and Mr. Hatter the sailmaker were gathered on the foredeck to watch the chase, and even from the quarterdeck Neville could see that the chatter was lively. He guessed them to be wagering on how long to catch their prey.

  In forty-five minutes more, Neville impatiently passed word for Russell to take his shot. Russell was taking his time. Running downwind, the ship was much more stable. There was little pitching, but she rolled on occasion. A light ‘bang” and a puff of smoke that blew swiftly forward told Neville that Russell had fired. To his surprise, he saw the ball splash only fifteen feet behind their foe, though off to larboard another twenty feet.

  “Did you see that, Captain?” Midshipman Walshe cried out in his excitement. “We’re gaining very fast. Her name is Mde. Loire, Sir.”

  “Yes, I see, Mr. Walshe. You had best get to your guns. We may need them soon.”

  “Aye, Aye, Sir,” he yelled, and hurried forward.

  “Look there, gentlemen. I am sure Bristol has that one on the rocks, and she is dropping sails to decide how to approach.”

  “Antelope is close upon her chase as well, Captain,” chimed Ratshaw. “She will be on her in another five minutes.”

  “So will we, gentlemen, look sharp now. Pass word for Mr. Russell to try again, if you please.”

  Again, there was no rushing Russell. Neville saw him lean over his minion not once, but twice, and he did nothing while the ship rolled over unexpected waves, but on the third sighting, he touched the slow-match. The ‘bang’ and puff of smoke were followed shortly by a wrenching move by Mde. Loire. She turned sharply to larboard, presenting her entire beam to them, and rolled away so violently that three men were flung from the upper yards, which almost touched the sea. She rolled vertical again, directly across Experiment’s course, her sails flailing and making a noise so loud it could be heard aboard Experiment. An entire deck-full of water – that she had apparently scooped up on the roll to starboard – gushed out her scuppers. “Collision!” screamed Mr. Greaves as he leaped to the wheel and, engaging the aid of the stunned quartermaster, spun it hard to windward. An experienced helmsman, he did not continue beyond what he thought was needed to miss the other ship. Without adjusting her sails, Experiment rolled heavily to the quickly revised course.

  Mde. Loire was fighting to recover as fast as her company could take down sail, but she had no steerage. Russell’s one little ball had unhinged her rudder completely, and it now floated behind the ship, attached only by its steering cables.

  “We’re going to hit!” screamed Misters. Gooden, Chips, and MacRead in unison, though their screeches were almost drowned out by the pipes of Tilburne and his mates calling all hands to throw sheets to the wind.

  Neville’s heart pumped hard as the crunching of wood upon wood began just aft of Experiment’s foredeck. Greaves had steered her straight again to avoid having Experiment’s stern swing hard into Mde. Loire, but he could not miss entirely. The planks of Experiment’s side slid along Mde. Loire’s stern gallery, shattering every window, lantern, and railing, but stopping short of any structural or rigging damage. Other than having a few gunports torn from their hinges, Experiment’s greatest damage would probably be to her paintwork. She slid free, but the force of the collision spun Mde. Loire’s bow into the wind, and any of her sails not yet furled slapped abruptly aback. Looking aft from the still-charging Experiment, Neville saw another two men flicked off the rigging into the sea. Mde. Loire’s sails were flailing themselves to ribbons.

  “Mr. Greaves, reduce sail to come about. Mde. Loire is already a half cable behind us!” ordered Neville, even though Mr. Greaves and Lt. Ratshaw already had it under way. It was fifteen minutes before Experiment had adjusted sails to begin her turn back to Mde. Loire’s position.

  “You’ll not believe this, Captain,” said Ratshaw as they began to turn. “The Mary is firing guns and signaling all ships into line of battle. What is Captain Wright’s plan? Antelope was almost to the point of capture and Bristol was about to board. Why does he call us in?”

  “No matter, Lieutenant,” said Neville. “We cannot go. We cannot leave; we are honor-bound to assist a disabled ship that has surrendered to us. She hauls her colours, you see, and puts herself at our mercy. If repairs cannot be made, we must tow her in. You must be the prize commander, Lieutenant, though we grow horribly short of officers. Take Mr. Walshe and two of Mr. Tilburne’s mates - Mr. Temis, as well. I will go aboard to see if anyone there speaks English.”

  Almost forty minutes later when they had clawed back to windward, come alongside Mde. Loire, and grappled on, the French ship’s boats were already returning with the men who had been flung into the sea. One appeared lifeless and another hurt, but the remainder of the people in the boats were all upright and mobile. There was no resistance from the ship, as the crew respected their captain’s decision to haul down her colours in their
unfortunate situation.

  Civility ran high. Captain Burton was piped aboard in the French fashion. Wearing the large wig fashionable in the day, Mde. Loire’s Captain stood waiting to present his sword. When Neville walked across the deck to him, he put one foot forward, bowed low and held his sword out with both hands.

  “Merci, M. Capitain (Thank you, captain),” said Neville. He made his attempt at duplicating the bow, straightened himself and continued in French after accepting the sword, “You are most gracious. I am Captain Burton. May I know your name?”

  “I am Captain Rowle.”

  “I am honored to meet you, and of course I accept your surrender. First, I must know if there is anyone aboard who speaks English.”

  “I am afraid that I do not, but my second lieutenant’s English is passable,”

  “Will he give his parole to faithfully translate the orders of our prize captain?”

  “I am sure he will, Sir.”

  “Excellent. Then I invite you to come aboard Experiment. Certainly, you would like to stand with me on the quarterdeck for a while and watch the action. Afterwards we shall have supper. Our Lieutenant Ratshaw will see to the exchange of officers and crew for the passage to Barbados, or wherever my Commodore directs us to go. We will tow your ship if repairs cannot be speedily made.”

  “Thank you, Captain Burton.”

  “The Mary continues to signal, Sir, and the others have gone to her,” reported a worried Greaves, who had nothing of particular importance to do while the ship was not sailing.

  “Let her signal. We are detained.”

  The two ships sat bobbing clumsily together while Chips and the French carpenter studied the rudder repair problem. The two captains and a few others continued to observe the battle progress from quarter- and foredecks. Their French counterparts who were not engaged in repairs or exchanges were doing the same. The French displayed considerable concern for the ship at the Les Saintes. They cheered when they saw Wright’s fleet form a line of battle – for a battle that would not happen – and the other French ships sail safely away.

  “I do not understand his tactics,” muttered Neville to Rowle. “Your countrymen have got clean away, and we might have had you. Our men-o-war had yours outnumbered.” In truth, thought Neville, I feel quite embarrassed.

  “Neither do I, Captain,” said Rowle with a barely suppressed smile, “but we will toast his health.”

  Captains Rowle and Burton were finishing their simple supper of turtle soup and biscuit and had poured a glass of Madeira wine. Captain Rowle had not been entirely successful hiding his rude opinion of the wine. It was not French, after all.

  There was a knock at the door, and Lt. Ratshaw appeared. “Chips and their carpenter believe the rudder can be repaired for service in only a day,” he reported, “if the ship could be in quiet water – in the lee of Marie-Galante, for example, but it will take much more time if we must do it here. It is obvious that there was existing damage and some inferior wood in the rudder area or one ball would not have caused such wreckage. And the exchanges have been made, Sir.”

  “Prepare the tow, then, and pass word for Mr. Greaves, if you please.”

  “Aye, Sir.”

  There was enough light in the day for a heavy anchor cable to be revised to serve as a tow cable, maneuver the ships into line for the operation, raise Experiment’s topsails. They began sailing toward Marie-Galante.

  The wind held steady and the seas began to lessen as the ships came closer behind the low island. Their speed therefore increased as they neared the anchorage, and it became apparent that the short passage would end easily. At the outer edge of the anchorage the tow cable was dropped, Mde. Loire deployed her anchor, and Experiment coasted another two cables before doing the same. As expected, a signal gun was soon fired by the Mary, and her ‘banner of council’ was raised at the quarter.

  “Come with me, Captain Rowle. You will meet our Commodore.”

  To Neville’s amazement, they were piped up the side of Mary. It must not be about me, but Captain Rowle, whom they have certainly seen even in this poor light. I cannot believe Wright has changed his mind about me. I expect he is even more displeased.

  The two were received on deck by the same clean shaven, blue-eyed, light brown-haired lieutenant that greeted Neville on his last visit. Neville turned aft and saluted the colours, and again, not the lieutenant. Neville had been studiously ignored on his previous visit, but this time a marine guard escorted him and Captain Rowle to Wright’s cabin. Neville wondered if Wright might be afraid of a single Frenchman coming aboard.

  They were stopped outside the captain’s cabin, and Neville could hear shouting within. He was familiar with both of the voices involved: Commodore Wright and General Codrington.

  “We are wanting of provisions, Sir, and I will not have my men starve!” yelled Wright.

  “You are an alarmist, Sir,” returned Codrington. “Every one of your ships has more than a month’s short allowance, and you know it. Even if that is not true, you know you may have all the beef in one of the merchantmen, which is more than a full month’s allowance for this whole fleet. I know it for a fact, because that is why I contracted it.”

  “No, I will not have your nonsense. We are wanting of supplies and our merchantmen are in danger here. You have seen all the French. We must sail for the safety of Barbados!”

  “Escort our merchantmen to windward of this island and send them home, then,” said Codrington, “Then go catch all these French ships that are returning to Martinique. Most are merchantmen and will not remain abroad in the knowledge that we are here. You could catch most of them, if not all!”

  “Zounds! You are not a seafaring man, and know none of this! I will not have your rubbish. We will sail for Barbados tomorrow morning!”

  “I remind you, Sir, that you have the Admiralty’s orders to remain here until those orders are changed, and you cannot go anywhere without my agreement. You do not have my approbation to sail for Barbados!”

  Wright, in an even more snarling voice, continued: “After my arrival at Barbados, I will discharge your vile islanders and sail for England – or New England – with this whole squadron. My ships are in poor shape, indeed. I will leave you one for Barbados and one for the Leewards, but the rest of us will be soon gone! Surely, you don’t think I would stay to command three ships. For what? Zounds! Jamaica and Barbados can supply enough sugar by themselves, and what matter if we lose the rest of these disgusting little islands?”

  “Give me Antelope, then,” said Codrington, “and take me and the Blue Regiment to Antigua, if you will do nothing else for their Majesties!”

  “Agreed. I will be rid of you. Enough of this! Send in that disobedient lieutenant and the Frenchman!”

  Codrington did not leave the room when Burton and Rowle were ushered in.

  “Why did you not obey my order to join in line of battle, Lieutenant?” was the first thing he asked, and that to Neville, with no politeness whatever to Captain Rowle.

  This line of attack was expected by Neville, and he answered impertinently, “We could not, with all honor, abandon a disabled vessel who had struck her colours to us, Sir. Our chaser shot-”

  “You did not obey my order!” screamed Wright. “Zounds, I will see you court-martialed!”

  Here General Codrington chimed in, crooning softly, “Then he will be right behind you at court, Commodore, once my report arrives at the Admiralty – although it could be changed. He was the only one of your squadron who had the courage to complete their chase rather than bow to your pointless call for a line of battle. It was your ruse to avoid battle, in my opinion. You could without question have had at least three rather than this one. Two of those you simply threw away.” To Neville’s great surprise, he added, “I suggest you make a hero of the man. Applaud his bravery and honorable actions toward his enemy.”

  Wright howled at the top of his lungs: “Zounds… I… will… not!” He and the general glared at each
other for a full minute while they cooled.

  Then Wright crooned, “Well then… Captain Burton,” again emphasizing the rank while still staring at Codrington, “perhaps you should quit your prize and sail for Jamaica before the sun rises. We will certainly have no need of your puny ship here after we deliver these colonists to Antigua and Barbados and depart for England, and we can easily deal with the prize.”

  “Captain Burton should take his leave, then?” Codrington asked of Wright.

  “Very quickly, I should think,” answered Wright. “But this French captain would be our welcome guest.”

  Neville turned to Captain Rowle and said in French, “My apologies, Sir. I wish you the best.” He bowed as graciously as he could in the French fashion, and turned to General Codrington, “It has been a pleasure, Sir.”

  “And mine. Give my regards to Colonel Fuller,” he answered. “Godspeed.”

  On his departure into the dark, Neville did not even salute the flag, and was aboard Experiment within the half hour.

  No sooner did the bowman of Neville’s gig clap hold at the mainchains than Stokes, as Midshipman of the Watch, called down to him, “Everything all right, Sir?”

  “Could not be better, Mr. Stokes. We are going home to Jamaica this very night. Take the barge and the three French officers back to Mde. Loire and fetch Lt. Ratshaw and any other of ours who are still there. I’ll have a message for the French before they go, as well.”

  Neville’s message was to the officers of Mde. Loire’s company, informing them that they would now be a prize of the fleet and that their captain was aboard Mary.