Another two days passed while they licked their wounds. By now, they were well south of Ushant, but they would soon need to be wary of Cape Finisterre at the western tip of Europe.
Neville began his day as the officer of the watch, pacing the quarterdeck as the sun rose. It was up, but behind heavy clouds, providing only a general glow to the east that bathed their watery world in eerie green light.
A cry of, “Sail ho!” broke his train of thought and brought immediate quiet below.
“Where away, Smythe?” hollered Neville up at him.
“Due west, Sir.”
He turned to one of the boys at the mainmast. “Norbert, isn’t it? Give captain my compliments, and advise him we have an unknown sail to the west.”
“Aye, aye,” he said, already scampering down the steps.
“What have we, Lieutenant Barton?” asked the captain as he stepped up from below. Neville could not read the man yet, but he had the feeling that his captain may have been relieved to escape some entanglement below – with a guest, perhaps, or the ever-pestering purser. He swept his arms wide and took a deep breath of salt air, blowing it out slowly and raking his hair with his fingers.
“Don’t know yet, Sir. Smythe up there has a long glass, so we should know something soon. And, with all respect, Sir, it’s Burton.”
“Burton, then,” Captain Neville replied, looking more closely. “The one who was carried aboard in Plymouth – whose given name is the same as my family’s?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“One of ours, I’d wager,” he said, returning to the business at hand. “We had three score and nine ships at Plymouth, and we haven’t seen a blessed one in a week.
“I’m going back down. Call me up when you know who it is. We might speak her, depending.”
“Aye, Sir.”
Dinner was finished and the sun fully up, but still behind the clouds, when Gaston came on deck; Smythe’s replacement hollered, “Deck, there – French!”
“How know ye?” Gaston bellowed up.
“Pennant what ‘as a gold fluer de lis at the peak,” he responded, “and some blue, red, and white bits for colours.”
“Shall I go look, Sir?” Neville asked Gaston. “I’m rather good at signals.” They had been at the leeward rail while the captain paced on the other side, each silently contemplating their situation.
“As you wish, Gaston said, “go thee up.” Turning to the closest midshipman, he added, “Strike our colours. Hoist the Dutch.”
A reasonable action, Neville thought. We are at war with France. This ship looks Dutch, and Holland is France’s ally. They should come close without concern. Gaston used the word ‘thee.’ Who says ‘thee’ any more? He’s an American Quaker, maybe? he wondered, trying to remember something he had read of them.
He swung into the larboard sheets and climbed rapidly.
“Good morning, seaman. The glass, if you please.”
“Cert’ny, Sir. It’s Farnsworth, Sir. Have you got it?” he asked, passing it over.
“I have it, yes, Mr. Farnsworth. Thank you.”
After studying the small vessel for several minutes, he decided that Smythe was correct, even though it was not a pennant Neville recognized. The vessel appeared to be a lightly-armed merchant, about the size of Swan. If they could lure her close, they should be able to take her without much fight. With their courses converging, there was nothing to do immediately. They would have to act before sundown, though, or risk losing her in the night.
“Thank you, Mr. Farnsworth. Is there any other thing to see?”
“Just there, Sir. A point off larboard bow. Finisterre, mebbe.”
“A very good eye, Mr. Farnsworth. Stay with it.” With that, Neville swung out and slid down the larboard backstay to the quarterdeck.
Once on deck he declared to Gaston, “I would confirm her as French, but I’ve never seen that particular pennant. We have Finisterre a point on the larboard bow, so I would guess she’s come out of some French port and must herself weather the cape. We converge slowly, I believe.”
“Excellent. And, we have the weather gage,” mused Gaston aloud.
Captain Neville, who had come up to have a look for himself when he heard the shouting, said, “Pipe the hands to supper, Mr. Cox. It’s a bit early, but we can’t lose the light, and it will leave us early with this overcast – and go very dark indeed.” The two ships had closed to about a league, and every impression was given that the French vessel was thinking to place herself under the lee – the protection of – this apparently Dutch naval vessel. Captain Neville had ordered Swan’s sails loosened a bit in order to remain as close to the Frenchman as possible and, assuming the wind held its current direction, fall down upon them as soon as the men were fed.
It was near on suppertime when Gaston queried, “Beat to quarters, Sir?”
“Pass word to clear the decks and move to quarters,” ordered the captain. “Quietly, Lieutenant. No drums and whistles and barbarous howling. We shall not allow him the noise of it. A great rushing about is not needed. Do not open the ports and keep the marines below for now. They may be watching us with a glass. We’ll be close enough in half an hour to put a shot across her bow.”
Shortly following Swan’s slight course change, it became obvious that the merchant ship had a concern. A signal of some sort broke out at her masthead.
“I don’t know that one, either, Sir,” said Neville, but it’s not ours. If I might suggest?”
“Yes, Lieutenant Burton, you may. We’ve nothing to lose. We should have him soon anyway.”
“Hoist a plain white flag – the colour of the French royalty. She should either turn and run, or let fly her sheets to speak us. If she lets fly, we’ll have her immediately and save the powder. If she runs, it will not take much longer. Either way, we will know her intentions.”
“Jolly good idea, Burton. I would agree you have some knowledge of signals. Have it done.”
Swan continued to close, creeping slowly to within two cables. As if she were a fox who has suddenly smelled the hounds, the merchantman began raising two staysails and turning away from Swan.
“There she goes. Open ports. Run out starboard,” ordered Captain Neville. First Lt. Gaston bellowed the order forward. Neville jumped down to the main deck to command his guns.
“Wylle, there,” yelled Gaston, “jump forward and fire the chaser.”
A minute later, the “pop” of a small cannon was heard from the foredeck, and a puff of white smoke carried forward toward their prey. The splash of the ball was seen a half cable ahead of the French, but the lumbering Frenchman did not strike, and a third staysail rose to join the other two.
Two more increasingly close cannon balls changed the Frenchman’s mind. Even with darkness coming on and her chance of escape increasing, she threw her sheets to the wind and began dropping sails. The name Liberté could be read on her transom, but she was no longer free.
“I told you she could not outrun us, Lieutenant Gaston,” gloated the captain. “She’s too big and fat. We must now exchange men quickly with this sea running before the light is gone. Send Burton. He seems capable. I’ll keep you here,” he added very quietly, “to help me deal with our guests.”
Lt. Burton and a prize crew scrambled over Libertés bulwarks the moment Swan’s cutter touched her side.
“Done this before, Sir?” asked Mr. Gore, Sailing Master’s Mate, of Neville.
“Not on a merchantman, no; but smaller navy vessels, yes. Have the gunner get running lights on her. I won’t have a collision with Swan. Set topsails with a reef, if you please. Steer west by sou’west. We are too close to Finisterre for my comfort. Send their master’s mate down to the master’s cabin, where I’m going now.”
“’ow do I find ‘im, Sir? I don’t speak French.”
Neville looked ‘round for the first man he saw with something of an officer’s air, and beckoned him come over. In fluent French, he asked, “Monsieur, who is the master’s
mate, sil vous plait?”
“Moi,” replied the man with surprising meekness. “Monsieur Cadeaux.”
It had occurred to Neville that this might be a place to ask a question he had dared not ask aboard the Swan; a question so outlandish as to have them think him a fool. He found what he was looking for in the master’s cabin. “Come below with me, then, M. Cadeaux,” Neville continued in French. “I need some information. Pass word ‘round your crew to carry on as usual, if you please. There will be no one hurt.”
In the center of the master’s desk, he found the same instrument with which Swan’s midshipmen had been taking their sights.
“This. What is it?” he asked the mate, picking up the device.
“We call it the English quadrant. Why would you ask? Surely you use this?”
“Yes, of course,” he answered. “Show me the books you use with it.”
“Here. This almanac and this chart, of course.”
“This almanac?” queried Neville as he picked it up, his heart beginning to pound hard as he read the title ‘Nautical Almanac for 1690 to 1695’. “Show me today’s date in these tables,” he demanded, opening it on the desk for M. Cadeaux.
Cadeaux looked down, turned a couple pages, and tapped his finger on a table, “Here. 28 March, 1690.” Looking up quizzically, he asked, “Why do you ask? Have you lost the date in the storm? It was very bad, yes?”
“Yes, it was,” agreed Neville, sinking into the chair, his head swimming with the confirmation of his fears. It’s not some joke, then, he was thinking. How could it be an ‘undred years earlier? I was in 1797 last …month? What of my mother, my sister, and Mary? Am I still in the Navy?
To M. Cadeaux, he said, “You will teach me to use this tomorrow. Please go now ....”
THE END
Afterword
This is a work of fiction. It is historical fiction, however, and, while most of the characters are fictional, there are many who are not. To the best efforts of my research, many ships and their captains are historically documented, although their actions in this story are mostly the product of the author’s imagination. The protagonist and his close family, friends, and associates are fictitious.
By way of examples:
Thomas Troubridge was captain of HMS Castor which participated in the siege of Toulon. He and HMS Castor were sent to Newfoundland to be a convoy escort.
The episode of the Angelique is an imagination, and there is no record of Castor being struck by a simoom – but the phenomenon exists.
Lt. Lawry was one of the few press gang officers ever killed by a mob ashore, and the event, which was documented by the actual Seaman Thomas, precipitated several changes in press activities – at least in Newfoundland. Sir James Wallace was governor at the time of the event, and the event happened somewhat as depicted. HMS Castor and her crew, although in St. Johns within a few months of it, were not involved.
The convoy, including HMS Monarch and HMS Castor, was intercepted by the French, and fifty (or so) men and crew of the captured Castor were taken aboard the Sans Pareil. That French ship then participated in the Battle of the Glorious First of June and was, itself, dismasted, captured, and taken back to England to become an English ship of the same name. The English were decisive winners of the naval battle. France, however, claimed to be the greater winners because, while the battle was going on, their huge convoy of American grain slipped past the English to prevent starvation in France.
Sir William Mulholland of Bury St. Edmunds is fictitious, but Georges Cadoudal was an actual spy for the English (although his exploits in this book are fictitious.)
Joseph Sydney Yorke commanded HMS Stag, which did sail with the small squadron that was involved with the Frigate Action of 22 August, 1795; associated events are otherwise fictitious.
While the Formidable and Espion were French ships captured by the English (and Espion later named Spy), all events in this book involving them are fictitious.
The mutinies at the Nore and Spithead were true historical events of great magnitude for the British sailor.
Admiral Sir Adam Duncan commanded the North Sea Fleet in 1797, and his actions were critical to peaceful conclusion to the mutinies at Spithead, as were the movements of his fleet while trying to blockade the French in Holland. His flagship was HMS Venerable, of which William George Fairfax was captain at the time. Venerable, and later the fleet, did sail to the Dutch coast and win the Battle of Camperdown against the Dutch in 1797. Duncan’s interactions with the characters of the story are imagined.
Edward Neville was, indeed, captain of the Swan that sailed from England in 1690 and was carrying Governors Inchiquin and Kendall when it was caught in ‘the great storm of 1690’.
Other truths and fictions are contained within this tale, but it remains the author’s intention not to let the truth get in the way of a good story.
It is the hope of the author that readers, if they are not already, may become interested in a greater understanding of the events in the past of humankind that have brought us to the world we now know.
British Money – pre-decimal (prior to 1971)
Britain used a system of pounds, shillings and pence, with coins representing various quantities of each, as follows:
Pound: not a coin before 1817 (then as the gold ‘sovereign’) – paper notes in values of 1, 5, 10, etc. were used and represented 240 silver pennies (pence): 1 pound (£1)= 20 shillings = 240 pence
1 guinea (coin, originally made from gold of the Guinea coast of Africa) = 21 shillings (1 pound + 1 shilling)
1 crown (coin) = 5 shillings = 1/4 pound
1 half-crown (coin) = 2 shillings and 6 pence (stopped in 1970)
1 florin (a beautiful medieval English silver coin) = 2 shillings
1 shilling (coin) = 12 pence (1s)
1 sixpence (silver coin; later called a 'tanner') = 6 pence
1 threepence = 3 pence (in sometimes called a ‘threp’ny bit’ or "thrupence")
1 penny (a copper coin) = one of the basic units (1d)
1 half penny (copper coin) (pronounced "hay-p-ny"); to 1969)
1 farthing (least value coin, a ‘fourth-thing’) = 1/4 penny; to 1956
The Prize Sharing system
1/8 to the flag officer
3/8 to the captain (for a private vessel prize)
1/8 each to commissioned, warrant and petty officers
¼ to the crew
British Navy Watch System (The bells)
(most commonly used in the Age of Sail)
The Navy day began at noon: Sights of the sun were taken by the Sailing Master and/ or officers and any navigation students (e.g. Midshipmen) using an astrolabe, the Davis quadrant (or the English quadrant), octant or sextant as such were invented in order to ascertain the sun’s zenith (locally) and determine latitude. When this was done (cloud cover permitting), the one responsible so informed the Officer of the Watch, who then informed the captain. The captain gave the order to “Make it noon and turn the glass”, and the order was transmitted to those who performed various parts of the daily ceremony: the hour-glass was turned, the ship’s bell was rung 8 times to indicated the end of the forenoon watch, and the boatswain blew his whistle (pipe) to summon the ship’s company to dinner.
One bell was rung for each half hour according to the time-keeping device, which was the hour-glass. Two bells were rung on the hour. At one-thirty p.pm. for example, it is 3 bells for the afternoon watch. A watch is 8 bells long (the two dog-watches in the afternoon, which allowed all the men to be fed more easily and rotated the watches for the next day, shared the full 8 bells until after the Spithead-Nore mutinies, when they each have only 4 each).
The speed-log was ‘heaved’ (thrown over the side) hourly.
The Watches:
Afternoon Watch: began at noon, the start of the Navy day, with the striking a 8 bells (the end) of the Forenoon Watch. Dinner began, and lasted one hour, until two bells were struck.
First Dog Watch, the
first of two half-length watches
Last Dog Watch, the second of two half-length watches
Evening Watch (4 hours) 8 pm to midnight
First Watch (4 hours) midnight to 4 am, During the night, the sentinels cry ‘All’s Well’ at each bell
Middle Watch (4 hours) 4 am to 8 am; hammocks piped up at 6 bells (7 am)
Morning Watch (4 hours, beginning with 8 bells of the Middle Watch); hands piped to breakfast
Forenoon Watch (4 hours) 8 to noon
Glossary 1.3
aft – The rear or stern of a ship. (the square end, as opposed to the pointy end, called the bow)
abaft – Behind or to the back of, as ‘abaft the mainmast’.
ague – A disease involving a series of severe fevers and chills (often or quite likely malaria, which was not understood before the building of the Panama Canal in the early 1900’s).
asafetida (or asafoetida) – A medicine: powder made from dried gum of roots of herbs of India and mountains to the north. It was used as an antiflatulant, digestive aid, or for fighting influenza.
backstave – A navigational instrument that preceded the sextant (and octant) for determining latitude (not longitude). The determination of longitude requires a precise timepiece.
Banyan Day – meatless day; name from Hindus; started during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I
beakhead - The small deck in the bow in front of the forecastle where the boom is mounted and where the crew’s lavatories were (from whence followed the term ‘head’ to mean toilet).
bend – A sailing term meaning to attach the sails. When in place and ready to use they are ‘bent’.
blocks - Pulleys.
boatswain – ‘bo’sun’: A highly skilled warrant officer in charge of deck and rigging operations (not sailing) and the supplies for all repairs. He assigns and oversees all deck work. The bo’sun likely had a private cabin and might eat in the gunroom with the commissioned officers. He would only stand watches on a small ship.
The Glorious First Of June (Neville Burton: Worlds Apart Book 1) Page 33
