His Majesty’s Brig Alert
by
Richard Testrake
Copyright © 2014
All Rights Reserved
Dedicated to my wife Peggy, my daughter Lisa and my son Charles.
Many thanks for their help, advice and encouragement.
Copyright: paladinsd / 123RF Stock Photo
Table of Contents:
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER ONE
The prize-brig ‘Droits du Citoyen’, fourteen guns, swung around her anchor in Portsmouth Harbor. Her captain was a teen aged master’s mate who had been put there by his father, a full captain in the Royal Navy. The appointment had been intended to be a very temporary affair lasting only until the brig reached safe harbor.
However, Mister Timothy Phillips, set upon by an enemy schooner larger than his own command, was able to instead capture that vessel and report to Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cotton with a useful prize in trail.
Sir Charles had emphasized to young Phillip’s father that he disliked nepotism, but recognized success when he stumbled across it. Deciding young Phillips should have some recognition for his feat, he assured all that he was not going to give Phillips a commission.
For one thing, he was too young, for another he had not taken his boards necessary for such a promotion. However, it was perfectly acceptable for master’s mates to command small vessels under certain circumstances.
Therefore, he announced he was going to purchase the brig into the service as a dispatch vessel. Normally, such brigs were commanded by experienced lieutenants, but Admiral Cotton was going to stretch a point by giving it to a master’s mate.
Vice Admiral Cotton, after sending Captain Phillips on his way, addressed the lad. Fixing young Phillips with a penetrating stare, he advised. “Phillips, do not think I am doing you a service. You have shown you are an intelligent and enterprising young man. I have no doubt that given a little time, you will pass your boards and gain your commission in the usual way.”
“The course you are on now though, is fraught with risk. You will be faced with all of the difficulties more senior officers face when assuming command. However, your ability to overcome such difficulties will be lessened by your minimal rank and status in the service.”
“Knowing this, understand that I do have an officer here in the flag who could stand a year’s seasoning while commanding such a brig as yours. If you wish, I could place you here in the flag as master’s mate and give the brig to my officer. At the end of a year, I might consider giving the vessel back to you. What do you think?”
“Sir, I am of course, at your command. I will cheerfully obey the orders that are given me. However, if given the choice, I would prefer command of the brig.”
“Very well, Captain Phillips. It shall be so. Somewhere here I have your statement of condition. I will have someone go over it and decide what men and supplies you will need to be provided. For one thing, that name ‘Droits du Citoyen’ must go. ‘Citizen’s Rights’ will never do for a King’s brig. I will have Flags look up a good replacement.”
“Go back to your brig and get her prepared for a voyage to the Baltic. You will need to drop by Portsmouth on your way. I have dispatches for the port admiral there. You may as well accompany your father on his way back. Someone will bring over the pouches and the paperwork pertaining to the brig’s commission. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a fleet to manage.”
Tim was pulled back to the brig in its only boat, a small dilapidated cutter that had evidently once served with a fishing vessel of some sort. It certainly had the proper odor.”
Coming on board with no ceremony, Tim called all hands. There were few enough of them. A dozen seamen and a boy were what he had at the moment. During the recent action, he had more hands, but they had been returned to HMS Resolve, his father’s frigate. He himself was the only person aboard able to navigate. On the way down to Portugal, he had merely followed his father’s frigate. Soon, he must manage on his own.
With everyone on deck looking at him questioningly, he gave them the news. “Men, Admiral Cotton has seen fit to confirm my appointment as master’s mate and placed me in command of the brig. He is purchasing her for the Royal Navy. We will follow Resolve back to Portsmouth, where the brig will be commissioned, then leave on a voyage to the Baltic.
Phillips looked at his crew. They were mostly seamen, rated either able or ordinary. The boy was a thirteen year old lad that had come aboard his father’s ship in Portsmouth, looking to secure a place to sleep and something better to eat than he had been existing on most of his life.
The young master’s mate was going to have to take this brig to sea, away from any possible assistance from people that he knew. With no superior officer on board, he must be responsible for all that occurred. Some of the men he knew well, having supervised many of them on the Resolve, a few were strangers.
One of them, a former captain of the foretop on the frigate, had been brought down from aloft due to an injury to his arm. Jack Rodgers had been a solid, respectable petty officer, old enough to be able to bypass the more juvenile antics of other members of the crew.
Tim gave the speech he had listened to his father give and dismissed all except Rodgers. Asking him to come aft, they stood near the tiller, idle now with the brig at anchor.
“Rodgers, we are about to sail, as soon as the dispatch bag and mail comes aboard. We will follow Resolve back to Portsmouth, then sail for the Baltic. I have nobody on board at the moment to second me. What would you feel about being appointed Bosun’s Mate?”
Rodgers looked deeply concerned. Bosun’s mates, among other duties, administered the punishment when the captain ordered someone flogged at the grating. A hatch grating was stood upright against a mast, the victim fastened to it and the petty officer laid on the cat ‘o nine tails on with a will.
“Oh sir, I wish you wouldn’t do that. I have no wish to be the one flogging a mate at the grating.”
“Rodgers, I doubt there will be much of that on this brig. There are few enough of us and it is my wish that the men, especially you oldsters, will take a hand in curbing the actions of some of the younger ones. You and I know a master’s mate of my age, with a small crew, cannot command a vessel by flogging men at the grating every day. It is my hope that any men needing punishment can be punished by the loss of tobacco or grog.”
“As for flogging, I give you my word that I will not order you to flog any man. Now, will you serve as bosun’s mate?”
“Aye, since you put it like that sir, I’m your man.”
*****
The brig dutifully followed HMS Resolve to Portsmouth with no untoward incidents. A suspicious small ship, probably a corvette, did become curious, but upon seeing Resolve’s force, wisely sheered away.
On reaching safe ha
rbor, the brig’s crew was hopefully awaiting a run on shore. Phillips addressed the men. “I know how anxious you men are to go ashore. You and I both know that is not to be and the reason for it. The brig is seriously undermanned and you have been working very hard to keep her up. I hope to obtain more people here in port before we leave. In recognition of your hard work, I will take you off discipline for the time being.”
“How long that will be depends on the port admiral and when he tells us to sail. You may not leave the ship, but you may invite friends and relatives aboard. I sincerely hope none of you will embarrass the ship or myself.”
Captain Phillips took Rodgers aside. “Mister Rodgers, since we have no other officer on board, will you set an anchor watch? One man, perhaps with the boy to run any messages. Should I be needed, a shout will fetch me. Try not to disturb the hands at their holiday, but they must not wreck the brig.”
Phillips went to the signal locker himself and after studying the signal book, pulled out the flag hoist for ‘Ship not in Discipline’.
During wartime, with a crew that had mostly been pressed against their wills, it would be nearly impossible to grant shore leave. Had he done so, a majority of the men would have simply walked away. After weeks or months at sea though, it was necessary for the men to have some sort of release. Some captains would do as Phillips, simply hoist the signal and stand back and observe.
Theoretically, wives were allowed to come aboard and be with their husbands. However, unless those wives lived in or near the port, it would be difficult or impossible for them to appear before the ship left. Therefore, women who had merely assured the anchor watch their husband was on board, came onto the ship and made the usual financial arrangement with the man who would be her ‘temporary husband’.
Some men, long in the Royal Navy, were said to have ‘a wife in every port’ around the world.
*****
He had gone into the tiny cabin to begin reading over some of the papers he had been given aboard the flag, when he heard the watch hail a boat. The reply startled him; “Intrepid!”
This could only be the captain of a nearby 64 gun third rate coming to visit. He threw on his best coat and hat and ran out on deck. There were no Royal Marines aboard, of course, but Rodgers was there with a bosun’s pipe he had somehow located and four of the crew had been pulled away from their ‘wives’ for side boys. The greeting for Captain Wilson was certainly not ‘Man o’ War’ fashion, but it apparently answered since Wilson came aboard with a smile on his face.
Adjourning to the cabin Tim asked the captain to be seated. “Captain, I am here to set a value on the brig so that Admiral Cotton will know how much he must pay for it. I saw your ‘Out of Discipline’ hoist before we set out, but my visit could not wait. No need to disturb your crew at their recreation.”
Looking around at the bare cabin, Wilson wondered. “I know you have had no chance to go ashore to secure cabin supplies. Were there no such aboard when you captured the brig?”
“Yes sir. I had all ship’s property not immediately needed put into storage. I understood it was necessary to set a value on everything aboard.”
“You are perfectly right, Captain Phillips. However, sometimes we may put a looser interpretation on matters. Sometimes for example, cabin stores may have been damaged in battle, or through improper storage by the enemy. Sometimes seals may have been broken and it will be necessary to either use or discard such items before they spoil.”
“I think I understand, Captain Wilson. If you will excuse me.”
Tim approached a narrow hatch and opened it. On one side of a bulkhead, cases of wine were stacked. Beside them, small casks of preserved provisions were piled. In the rear were a few heavily salted hams and several sides of cured bacon.
Pulling out a case of wine with some effort, he staggered over to the table and set it down. Using his new sword, he pried off the top and extracted two dusty bottles.
Another hatch, when opened, revealed place settings, silver and glasses, all secured tightly in place. After some searching, Tim found a cork screw. While he was searching for some glasses that were not overly dusty, Wilson pulled the corks from the bottles.
Pouring the wine, he remarked, “I gather you have no servant, Captain Phillips?”
“Sir, I have a dozen crew and a boy aboard the brig. I really did not feel I should use one of them to wait on me.”
“I see. Once I get back to the Flag, I will think about that. Now, I believe the people I brought with me are beginning to rummage the brig. I had better go supervise while you examine the paperwork.”
“Make sure you have a quill and ink handy. You will need to sign much paper before I leave.”
“Sir”, explained Phillips. “I must warn you, I had not realized we would be having visitors, when I put the ship out of discipline. The men and their women partners may seem a bit boisterous.”
“Well, Captain Phillips, I rather thought there were more than a dozen people aboard. I may well need to ask some of your people to assist in moving gear around.”
Alone, Tim began going through everything Captain Wilson had left. He found that he would be required to sign for literally thousands of items, the exact quantities blank for now. He assumed these would be filled in after the inventory.
Searching in the lockers, he was not able to find a pen or quill, although he did find a small horn container of ink powder. When he shouted for the ship’s boy, William came running. The boy was older than his size indicated. Having spent his life on the docks, subsisting on whatever scraps he could locate, his body was stunted, but his wits were certainly sharp enough.
“William, I need a pen to sign some documents. Would you know where to locate some quills?”
This was a puzzler for the lad, but then an idea came to him. In the past, when he had been horribly hungry, a few times he had been forced to kill seagulls for food. They were most unsatisfactory provisions, but the larger birds might have feathers that suited.
Nodding his head, he said, “Yessir, it may take some time, but I think I can find something”. Going forward, Will approached Bosun’s Mate Rodgers who was supervising the men hauling the brig’s sails from storage in the sail locker out on deck to be inventoried.
The petty officer listened to the boy and nodded impatiently. Will ducked below, coming back up with a ball of light line and a fish hook. Baiting the hook with a scrap of cooked pork from dinner the day before, he set the scene by throwing a few other scraps of meat on deck.
One of the hands shouted at him to ‘Belay’, but was busy doing a task Rodgers had assigned and did not try to stop the lad.
Flocks of gulls wheeling over their heads swooped down to scavenge the meat. Will tossed the last few scraps on deck along with the baited hook and line. A big skua was hovering over the deck, trying to confiscate meat some of the other birds had secured. Seeing the new food thrown on deck, the bird grabbed the baited hook and attempted to fly off.
Will gave a tug on the line, setting the hook and drew the flapping pirate in. Before the big bird could do him injury, he bashed it with a belaying pin.
Rodgers appeared before him. “I know you did this for the Cap’n, lad, but you will clean up this mess you have made. Throw that bird over the side when you have what you want from it.”
Will pulled the biggest feathers from the bird’s wings and threw the bloody carcass over the side.
CHAPTER TWO
Tim examined the quills wryly. These were not exactly like the type of goose quills one would purchase in a stationer’s shop, but he imagined they would serve until he could find something better. He had already mixed some ink and now trimmed the nibs on the quills with his pen knife and tried one out. He decided it would serve.
Captain Wilson entered the cabin with a tall, cadaverous looking man. The man carried a short piece of board on which were tacked some papers. Wilson introduced the man as ‘Jefferson, my clerk’ and went to the stack of papers on Phillip’s des
k. He handed them one at a time to Jefferson, who marked figures on them furiously, apparently from memory and handed them to Phillips.
He tried to read each as it was handed to him, but it was impossible at the speed the clerk was working, so he ended just by scrawling his name with the small pen and hoped he was not signing his life away.
At the end of the session, Wilson noted they had set a preliminary value on the brig which would be submitted to Admiral Cotton and the Admiralty.
Wilson commented, “You will note on that first page the clerk handed you, the brig’s name is now ‘Alert’ Her signal number is also on the page, which you will need to give to your signal officer.”
“Sir”, Tim answered, “I have no signal officer. The only other person in authority aboard this brig is my bosun’s mate.”
“Yes, I must remember to send you some people when I get back. We are in rather a hurry here. While we wish you to have a full complement of people, we may have to wait until you make port again to completely fill your roster. I do realize we are sending you to sea in a hurry. Later on we will have to attend the details which we are passing over here.”
“One complication arises from the unusual nature of your posting. Normally, of course the commander of a brig would be a lieutenant, with a more junior lieutenant under him as first officer. Then, there would be a senior master’s mate to assist you with navigation, storing ship and the like. Since you are a master’s mate in command, we cannot put a commission officer in the brig as first officer and likewise, a senior master’s mate would not be wise, while a man junior to you would likely be worthless.”
“We have hit upon a compromise. Since you will be sailing to the Baltic, you may need to have someone with a specialized knowledge of that area.”
The captain excused himself and went out on deck. Returning momentarily, the flag captain introduced him to a short, round individual in a tattered blue coat. “Captain Phillips, I would like you to meet Captain Jensen. He is a Dane with a British mother and speaks English perfectly. He has had disagreements with his country’s leaders over the Danish alliance with Napoleon. Captain Jensen has agreed to accompany you to the Baltic to advise you as to conditions there.”
His Magesty's Brig Alert: A Tim Phillips Novel Page 1
