The stranger had Phillips attention now. He ordered Dale to loose the fore and main topsails. The activity brought Captain Jensen on deck. He had been nursing a streaming cold since they had left the fleet, but he was all business now. It would be to his benefit if he were not captured. Danish officials, should he it brought to their notice he had been assisting a British warship while in Danish waters, might well regard him as a traitor. He began taking bearings on landmarks to fix their exact position.
He reported there were shallows aplenty here and he wished to take no chances of running aground.
The breeze had calmed and there were fog patches up ahead. What wind there was came fitfully from the west. The brig was barely making steerage way. Jensen pointed to a tiny island on his chart. “That is Anholt, shoal water around it. We do not want to come too close to it. According to my reckoning, she should be dead ahead. Perhaps we should considering changing course?”
On Captain’s Jensen’s chart, he saw, just to the east of their marked course, the tiny island, right near the center of the deep channel. He asked Jensen just how sure he was of the ship’s position. Jensen did not answer, but looked at him scornfully.
Calling Dale over, Phillips showed him the problem. “I want us to veer to port a point. We need to put some sharp eyes right up in the bow to warn us if we come too close. Warn the lookouts we are looking for land or shoal water.”
Just before entering the fog bank. Phillips noticed the brigantine was still on their stern. As they entered, it seemed to be a different world. The wind was now just barely pushing them through the water. The only noise was from the lapping of the sea on their hull and the creak of their rigging.
Moisture was condensing on solid surfaces and Phillips sent the boy around to the guns to warn their crews to cover their priming quills. As they crept along in the silence, a warning came from aloft, sotto voce. “Deck there, land off the starboard bow!”
“Mister Dale”, Phillips ordered. “Would you please jump up to the masthead and let me know what you see?”
While Dale was running up the rigging, Phillips ordered the helmsman to steer another point to port. As the brig slowly made its slight course correction, Dale came sliding down the backstay and reported, “Land is on our starboard bow, a cable’s length away. The fog is mostly lying low and I could see the hill tops on the island poking through.”
Phillips went to the helmsman at the tiller. “Cooper, we have shoal water ahead and to starboard, with a privateer behind us. Do you think you can get us another point to the wind?”
“Yes sir, she is handling well.”
The brig edged a little more to port. Not sure of his exact position, Phillips was cautious of making drastic course changes. The leadsman in the starboard main chains had been calling off the depths mechanically, but now Phillips realized the depths were increasing. Unless there was some underwater reef in their path, they might be safe.
On his own initiative, Dale climbed to the masthead again and reported the island was now off their port beam, sliding aft. The fog was thinning to the north and west. It was still thick behind them and Dale could see no sign of their pursuer. As Alert encountered a breeze that swept away the fog in their neighborhood, Dale announced, “Deck there. Enemy in sight on the starboard beam. She is south of Anholt Island and is still in the fog bank. Just her tops are visible poking through the fog. If she has a man in her tops, he could probably see us.”
“Very well, Mister Dale. We will change course back to the north.”
As the wind increased and blew the fog away, no more was seen of the privateer. Alert made her way past the Skaw and out into the North Sea. She had no more adventures this voyage.
*****
Alert came to anchor at Portsmouth and Phillips was pulled ashore in the launch. The brig and her crew presented a more professional looking picture than when she had left. The boat had been cleaned, with the paintwork touched up. All the boat crew members wore matching jackets, trousers and sennit hats, all which had been made by themselves, or at least with the assistance of talented friends.
Phillips led a procession to the Port Admiral’s shore office. Rodgers carried the dispatch package, the papers inside wrapped in tarred canvas and tightly bound with light line. A pair of grapeshot inside ensured the package would sink in case it had to be jettisoned overboard to prevent capture.
Four trusted hands trudged behind with the mailbags from the Baltic fleet. The flag secretary met them at the door and sent a Royal Marine to fetch an officer to take charge of the mail. He himself confiscated the dispatch package and disappeared. Waiting, Phillips could imagine the consequences to himself should the secretary decide to desert to the enemy and flog the papers to Bonaparte.
All was well, though. The lieutenant appeared and led him in to the flag captain’s office. Phillips was invited to sit down and give his opinion on some burgundy which had just come in on a prize. After some innocuous discussion, Sir Roger Curtis, the port admiral came into the office and greeted Phillips by name. Tim had met the admiral before in company with his father, but had been certain the officer would not remember.
Sir Roger did and asked if he had heard from his parent. When they finally got to the point, Sir Roger said, “Young man, in the dispatches you just brought from Admiral Saumarez, was one concerning yourself. In our service, you young commanders are expected to be fire-eaters, expected to always be champing at the bit to go out to capture another prize, or defeat an enemy ship superior to your own. Some officers though, especially those commanding dispatch vessels, are forbidden to do just that, for obvious reasons.”
“Sometimes it is difficult for a superior to decide what to make of an officer that can follow the orders he has been given. One day to be a daring raider, the next as careful as a shopkeeper might be with his till.”
“Admiral Saumarez told me about the privateer that attacked you near the Skaw. He mentioned you had burned the prize, rather than take men from your crew to send her home. He said that you deserved an independent cruise in your brig as a reward for your prudent behavior.”
“In the report you supplied me of the voyage home, I learned of the incident with the brigantine in the Kattegat. Do you think you could have taken her had you engaged?”
“Yes sir. She was about our size, with the same number of gun ports. I do not know what weight of weapons she had, but my crew was well worked up and I am sure we would have prevailed.”
“Well Captain, I think I will do as Admiral Saumarez suggested. You will have your cruise. Now, Admiral Cotton sent you on your mission to the Baltic, but he has been recalled to London. You will now report to Admiral Collingwood; off Cadiz, at last report. However, I will not burden you with dispatches on your way there. The mail packet out of Falmouth will be sailing soon and I will utilize her services this time.”
“Take aboard what stores you will need and you will then be free to depart. You may regard your voyage to the Iberian Peninsula a cruise and may secure such prizes you may encounter. Furthermore, you will be sailing under Admiralty orders, so you may retain all three eighths of a prize’s value, Goodbye and good luck, Captain Phillips. Good hunting on your way to Portugal.”
The cruise to Spain elated Phillips, as well as the news about being under Admiralty orders. Normally, when a prize was captured, the captain would receive two eighths of its value, while the admiral commanding would receive one eighth. Under Admiralty orders, he would receive the extra share for himself.
CHAPTER FIVE
Along with the necessary stores brought aboard, some people came also. Another master’s mate came aboard, to assist in navigation. Mister Henley was older than Phillips and had been a master’s mate longer.
Right away Henley decided to try Phillips on. Tim had greeted the new junior officer at the entry port and invited him to his cabin for a drink and to discuss the brig’s operations on the trip to Spain. Since Henley had more service than Dale, he meant to use him as the bri
g’s first officer, replacing Mister Dale. Henley started off on the wrong foot by addressing his captain by his last name. Then, he wondered how Phillips had been given the captaincy instead of himself, who had much more service.
Gaining confidence with every moment, Henley suggested that he might decide to visit the port admiral to see if he might wish to rectify the matter.
With his ire growing every second, Phillips decided he had remained silent long enough. Raising his voice, he shouted, “Pass the word for the first officer!”
“Mister Dale”, he announced. “I have decided to appoint you master’s mate. Mister Henley here, will revert to midshipman, to avoid any confusion over who commands this brig.”
Henley sputtered. “You can’t do this Phillips. I am your senior!”
“Henley, you may address me as ‘Captain, or Sir. Anything else, I will deem insubordinate and take the necessary steps.”
“I’ll see you damned, Phillips. I’ll see the admiral over this.”
“You will leave this brig immediately, Henley. As of this minute, you are dis-rated. You have no standing here now. You may wish to leave the brig before Mister Dale takes it into his head to press you as a common sailor. Mister Dale, would you get some seamen to help this civilian leave?”
Afterward, Dale approached Phillips on the quarterdeck. “You may have made an enemy there, Captain. If you lose this command and he gets his rating again, you could be in for some trouble. By the way, am I still a master’s mate now?”
“Yes, you are.”
*****
The summons was delivered by Sir Roger’s flag lieutenant in the forenoon watch the next day. Lieutenant Henshaw was non-committal but reminded Phillips it was not wise to keep the admiral waiting. He left in the admiral’s barge with Henshaw, after leaving instructions with Dale to send the brig’s launch after him in half an hour.
Phillips cooled his heels in the waiting room for an hour. The admiral was not nearly so friendly on this visit, as he had been on the last.
The first question he had was, “What were you two schoolboys fighting about?” After a half hour of question and answer, the admiral’s mood had lightened and he called his servant in to bring them wine. No information was given to Phillips and he left as bewildered as when he had arrived.
About ready to leave on the cruise down to Portugal, Phillips allowed Dale to go ashore to arrange for some wardroom provisions. On his return, he had news. From shore side gossip, he found Henley had, while in his cups, insisted on an interview with Sir Roger.
Uncharacteristically, the admiral did see him and was assaulted with a barrage of demands that he, Henley, be given command of Alert and Phillips be removed from the Navy.
Sir Roger had confirmed Henley’s dis-rating and had him impressed as a seaman. Dale found later in his investigation that Henley was now serving aboard HMS Conqueror as a fore t’gallant yardman.
Dale thought, with Henley serving aboard a third-rate 74 gun, line-of-battle ship as an able seaman, it was unlikely he would get his midshipman’s rating back soon, let alone be made master’s mate. On a smaller ship, a shortage of officers who might be away on prizes, sick or injured, might cause someone like Henley to get his rating back. Not so on the big battle ship. It would likely have plenty of people in good standing with the captain who could be used as replacement officers.
The whole matter became moot on the day they sailed. The wind and tide were favorable and Alert displayed the flag signal to request permission to depart.
The clearance was delayed and Phillips thought he would lose the tide. Finally Lieutenant Henshaw came out in the admiral’s barge and delivered a sealed document. Beside the officer in the barge, was a young midshipman, on his best behavior.
Opening the document, Phillips learned he was an acting lieutenant again, by Sir Roger’s order. When questioned, Henshaw thought it was Sir Roger’s idea to keep a similar event from occurring again.
Dale’s appointment as master’s mate was also confirmed and Phillips was permitted to take on another midshipman. Normally, he would have been able to select a young gentleman himself. Due to their imminent departure though, Sir Roger had simply ordered a member of his flag’s gunroom to jump down into the boat.
Phillips also found he was authorized to take on both an assistant surgeon, as well as a sail maker also, although where he was supposed to find either was a mystery.
CHAPTER SIX
Alert finally put to sea on the last of the ebb and made her way out into the Channel. Crossing over to sail along the French coast, she was indignantly told to remove herself from the area. This was apparently the Channel Fleet’s private hunting preserve. Sailing south down the coast to the Spanish Peninsula, she was more welcome, but very little shipping was present. Finally, nearing the Portuguese coast, while running inshore at night, Alert’s deck lookouts spotted something silhouetted against the lights of a military encampment on shore.
Phillips had planned on bombarding the troops, if he could escape much damage from any shore battery that might be present. The object appeared to be some kind of ship at anchor, so sending out Mister Dale in the launch and Mister Rodgers in the cutter with their boarding parties, Phillips waited to see what the dawn would bring.
With no interference from the troops ashore, the trabacollo came sailing up to Alert, with the boarding parties aboard and the boats towing behind. Dale’s report related how the men swarmed aboard at the bow and the stern from the boats. There were only a pair of watch standers on deck and they were overpowered without a shot being fired.
The rest of the vessel’s small crew were told to stay below deck and they followed their orders. An examination of the ship produced her manifests and she proved to be the French flagged ship Adelaide with a cargo of flour and rice.
Trabacollos were generally considered Mediterranean craft not usually found outside the Straits, but Phillips heard France had taken some Venetian craft when Bonaparte took that Republic and many of them were brought to Atlantic ports. Whatever her history, Alert’s captain was sure the prize money would be useful indeed.
The trabacollo had just been sent off with its prize crew, under the command of Bosun’s Mate Rodgers, when sailing past a small cove defended by a battery, they saw a schooner anchored close to shore. Phillips would have liked to emulate his father’s practice of landing a force on the shore, then taking the battery from behind and confiscating any craft in port.
The crew of Alert was too small for such activities though, so sailing on, as if giving up on the idea, she sailed back far out to sea where shore lookouts could not see her. Approaching the shore on the next night, she again loaded her boats with seamen and launched the raid. Since Dale had led the previous raid, Phillips led this one.
With muffled oars, the boats crept slowly toward their prey. The men had all discussed the amounts they would likely get when prize money came their way and they were enthusiastic about earning more. The schooner was not as quiet as the trabacollo had been. There was a party of some sort going on in the after cabin, with plenty of noise.
The launch Phillips was using crept under the stern of the schooner. Bending the painter to a rudder pintle, one of the surer footed hands climbed the hull, dropping a line to the boat below. Edgars, a powerful looking sail maker’s mate pulled himself up, then Phillips followed.
Edgars had an axe slung on his back, while Phillips had the wickedly sharp sword his father had given him, as well as two pistols in his sash.
When ready, Edgars smashed the glass of the stern windows and pulled himself inside with the accompanying screams of women and the roars of outraged men. Phillips looked inside and watched a slim dandy begin to advance on Edgars with what looked like a court sword.
Holding on with one hand, he held his pistol in the general direction with the other and fired. The heavy ball took the man in the lower leg and dropped him to the floor. Phillips pulled himself inside into the turmoil and fired his remaining weapon
, to what effect he never knew.
More men were entering and he heard a commotion on deck which told him the cutter’s men had made it aboard. An elderly officer had engaged him with his sword, but Phillips quickly felt this man had not handled a blade in earnest in many years. A lunge to the shoulder brought both the weapon and the man to the floor.
There were women in the cabin, some of whom had apparent difficulty keeping their gowns covering their attributes. Having gone to sea at too young of an age to have been exposed to social events, Phillips was astonished at such behavior. One such woman, probably just a bit too old for such surroundings, had seized a carving knife from the table and was advancing on Phillips with deadly intent. The young man, flustered by the sight of what seemed to be acres of exposed flesh stood there in shock.
Peterson, a quartermaster’s mate and an old hand with the ladies, merely rapped her over the head with the flat of his cutlass and stowed her in the corner out of the way. By now, the action had just about ended, although one woman considered it her duty to continue her highly pitched screaming.
Someone opened the door to a food pantry and stuffed her inside, screams and all. The battery ashore had been woken by all the noise on the ship. The gunners were handicapped by the fact their two officers were both aboard the schooner, attending the party. The sergeant left in charge finally decided to fire when the schooner began to move, but not wanting to injure his officers, he made sure all the guns were aimed wide of the schooner.
Once out to sea, it was necessary to take stock. The schooner held a cargo of hides, as well as a quantity of sailcloth. Both articles as well as the schooner itself, would find a ready sale.
The two artillery officers from the shore battery offered their parole, which was accepted. The captain and first officer of the schooner had both expired from wounds taken during the struggle. Others were civilians from shore that had been invited to the party. These were put in the boats and sent ashore with the women. The crew was interviewed and it was found to be about equally divided between Spanish and French sailors. All the Spaniards accepted the option of taking service with the Royal Navy instead of going to the prison hulks.
His Magesty's Brig Alert: A Tim Phillips Novel Page 3
