For the Honor of the Flag: A John Phillips Novel (War at Sea Book 2) (13 page)

Tired of living in the sickening filth of the berth deck, Phillips persuaded a few of the recovering seamen into cleaning up. They had just started making a dent in the squalor when a breathless Mrs. Wilson entered, carrying a bucket of seawater. “The guard in the parlor has nodded off. He has a pistol and also a cutlass. I think if we are quiet, we can get the weapons.

Taking three of the fittest seamen, Phillips followed Wilson, still carrying the bucket, aft. As they reached the hatch opening for the saloon, she held up her hand. “Wait here a moment.” She went through the hatch, then, a moment later, there was first the sound of a dull ‘thud’, then a clatter. As Phillips rushed through the door, he saw Mrs. Phillips standing over the prone body of the guard. He was lying in a puddle of water, his pistol already in Wilson’s hand. Phillips snatched up the cutlass and had his men secure the unconscious prisoner. Apparently, Wilson had struck him with the wooden bucket.

Baker’s cabin door eased open and his cautious head emerged. He appeared wan and disheveled, having just risen from his sick bed. Seeing the situation though, he went back in the cabin and made a quick search through his effects, emerging with an ornate, ivory hilted, midshipman’s dirk. A quick explanation revealed his uncle had given him the weapon upon his entering the Navy and he was not about to allow some French seaman to take it.

After a quick discussion, Mrs. Wilson offered to enter the prize master’s quarters and endeavor to hold him while the other men saw what they could do with the remainder. She explained, “He is used to having me come in and clean every morning. He has the prize crew’s muskets in the room for safekeeping. If we can keep them out of the hands of the others, we may have a better chance.”

The party split, Wilson going to her chore, while Phillips and the three seamen went up on deck.

At first, they were unnoticed. Phillips had his men wait until Wilson had time to do her job. There were only three of the prize crew on deck, one of whom was at the helm. The mail packet was on a northerly course, as far as he could determine from the sun. Another crewman was apparently acting as officer of the deck, standing importantly on the quarterdeck, with a glass under his arm. The third man was taking a pull on a topsail brace, attempting to get it to hold the wind better. No one was in the tops serving as lookout. The only weapon visible was a pistol lying on the binnacle.

At a nod from Phillips, the men rushed toward the helmsman and his weapon. He was quick and grabbed the pistol before they could reach him. The muzzle was pointed at one of the men when the Frenchman tried to fire. Apparently, a bit of spray had dampened the priming charge in the weapon’s pan, since it did not discharge.

Baker had the dirk out and slipped the razor sharp blade into the helmsman’s ribs, then stood back as the fellow sank to the deck. The other two members of the French prize crew stood motionless, as if judging their chances.

One of the packet’s crewmen picked up the fallen weapon and handed it to Phillips. There was a sailcloth bag on the binnacle and it contained a powder flask and a few pre-made charges. Not wanting to take the time to try to extract the charge and reload, he merely opened the frizzen and rapped the weapon on the binnacle to remove the damp priming. A pinch of fresh priming was loaded into the pan and hopefully the weapon was ready to fire.

The two enemy crewmen facing their opponents looked none too healthy to Phillips and did not contest the new administration. Davis used his bloody dirk to cut some lengths of line and the men were bound up and ordered to lie on the deck.

A quick search revealed another pistol inside the binnacle, and this was also found to have a damp priming charge.

With Mister Baker keeping watch, Phillips drew the charges from both guns and replaced them with fresh loads. Nothing had been heard from the prize master’s cabin or Mrs. Wilson so Phillips led the way there. Phillips cautiously rapped on the door and Wilson answered in a steady voice. When Phillips slowly entered, they saw the French officer seated on his bed while Mrs. Wilson stood against the bulkhead with her pistol out, covering him with the weapon.

Lying on the deck were a half dozen muskets and their accoutrements. The officer, not speaking a word during the proceedings, was lashed to his bed, and everyone helped himself to a musket. One of the hands carried the extra firearms forward, to arm other seamen, as they began to recover.

Leaving the officer unattended for the moment, the party made their way to the warrant officer’s mess where the remainder of the French crew were resting off-watch. Faced by four men and a woman with loaded weapons, these people were secured without protest.

It was now necessary to get enough people on deck to put the packet about and resume their voyage south toward Gibraltar. As hours went by, more of Betsy’s original crew recovered while those members of the French prize crew had their turn with the illness and became disabled.

Mrs. Wilson ate at the common mess with the others and it was there they learned of her part of the action. She had entered the prize-masters quarter’s in her guise as a cleaning woman. The officer seated at the desk waved at her to get about her task. Instead, she removed the pistol from her bucket and trained it upon the officer. When he made an unguarded move to pick up a musket at his feet, she eared back the cock on the pistol. Seeing she had the weapon in an unwavering grip, he wisely gave up on his attempt, and the pair waited to see what might develop on deck.

She commented upon how relieved she was when she heard the others at the door. “I didn’t know what to do”, she volunteered. “I couldn’t leave him with all those guns lying about, and I had no way to tie him up. I thought about shooting him, but I wasn’t sure the gun would fire. So, the two of us just waited.”

By the time
the packet had reached Gibraltar harbor, most of Betsy’s crew had recovered, although the former captain was now almost an invalid and would have to give up the sea. The members of the French prize crew had also their own brush with the malady, some beginning to recover by now.

The fever flag was shown on entering and the ship was required to anchor in a protected area, with a guard boat patrolling to ensure against any seamen trying to get ashore. Considering the illness of the packet’s captain, Phillips had retained command of the brig.

As soon as the port’s doctor had determined the disease had ran its course and he had cleared the brig and its crew, Phillips ordered the mate to take the packet to the commercial anchorage, while he went ashore to advise General Rainsford, still the Lieutenant Governor, of his activities in the mail packet.

Rainsford was not present in the office in the Convent, which served as the local Government House. However, he was directed to the desk of a one-legged post captain, many years senior to himself.

Captain Hancock, it developed, had a leg shot off in the course of an action last year and rather than return home to face retirement had accepted the post here as naval attaché to the governor.

Hancock explained that while he had no official role, and actually received only his naval half-pay, he was glad to be busy taking care of Naval business here and seeing to the Royal Navy’s difficulties with the shore.

Accepting the travel-worn orders Phillips had brought with him, he nodded. “We thought the packet had been lost, being so late. With the concurrence of the Acting Governor, I drafted a request to the Admiralty to send another officer out. I had asked Governor Rainsford to allow me to take Blanche out, but he flatly refused.”

“Fortunately, the mail has not yet left, so we can find my request in the bag and destroy it. Actually, we are fortunate that you have been delayed. It seems the first officer on Blanche was distressed when he learned he was not to be given the command, so he has been frittering his crew away, unbeknownst to us. Any King’s ship needing a hand or two only had to ask Lieutenant Wainwright, and his wishes were filled. At the moment, probably half her hands are gone.”

“Fortunately for you however, HMS Triumph came in last week. She had been much beaten about in an action with a pair of Frenchmen, and it will be months before she will be able to resume her duties. I can draft enough men from her to fill out your crew.”

“What about my officers? What kind of people will I have? I wonder about this Lieutenant Wainwright you just told me about.”

Hancock thought a moment. “Wainwright received his commission back in the American war and has never advanced. He may be a bit bitter because of the younger officers he sees promoted ahead of him. On the visits I have made to the Blanche, she impressed me as more of a Royal yacht, than a warship of the Royal Navy. The crew is probably not too happy either. Blanche has an extra-large Marine detachment, and that may be the reason why there has been no mutiny. As far as the other officer’s go, they are much as one would expect. It has been my experience that junior officers often attempt to model themselves after their captain, so long as he has their respect.”

Phillips took a chance. “Captain Hancock, I happened to bring an extra officer with me. He is an admiral’s nephew, newly commissioned, but for all that, I feel the lad has possibilities. Would there be room on the ship’s establishment for another junior officer?

Hancock shook his head. “Not unless you take him aboard as your guest? Then, where the devil would you stow him? I suppose you could put him in the gunroom with the mids, if you wanted to.”

“What about if I sent one of the other officers ashore? Would any of them be related to an admiral or MP?” Phillips wondered.

Hancock assured him, as far as he knew, all the officers were free from special interest. “But you must understand, there may come a time when you would need the experience of that long-service officer you are sending ashore.”

Deciding to make his decision only after meeting the other officers he went down to the signal tower, meaning to signal Blanche to send a boat.

Once there though, he saw a guard boat patrolling the anchorage, in an effort to keep too many men from slipping over the side of their anchored ships and swimming ashore. On impulse, when he saw the midshipman in charge glance his way, he waved at him.

Clad in his new captain’s coat, with its single epaulette on the right shoulder, no mid was likely to ignore such a personage. The boat immediately came about and approached the shore. Phillips asked the lad if he would carry him out to the Blanche.

Phillips wanted no ceremony so he asked to be taken to the port side entry. Familiar with the constantly patrolling guard boat, it was only at the last moment when the master’s mate of the anchor watch spotted the post captain in its stern sheets. At his challenge, the mid looked at Phillips questioningly to see how he wanted to answer.

Normally, a captain would reply with the name of the ship he commanded, but he did not want to do this now, since he had not actually taken command of the frigate or of any other ship. So, he merely stood and shouted, “Aye aye!”

This signified there was an officer in the boat of no particular distinction. Nevertheless, there was a frantic flurry on deck as appropriate officers gathered to welcome him aboard.

An elderly, grey-hair lieutenant greeted him, apologizing that he had not been greeted in a better manner.

Phillips asked, “Mister Wainwright, I presume?”

“Yes sir. Actually, since the death of the captain, I have been in command. I thought I might perhaps be given the command, but I have received no word of that yet.”

Coming to a rapid conclusion, Phillips reached in his pocket and handed his orders to the officer. “Mister Wainwright, I wonder if you would call the hands aft and read these orders to them.”

Glancing at the orders, Wainwright’s face grew ashen as he realized he was not going to be the one to command the ship. Without comment, he turned to another officer and ordered, “Get the hands mustered here now, Harrison.”

Soon men were boiling from the hatches in silence, except when the rattan or rope’s end of a bosun’s mate struck a sensitive part of a seaman’s body. The only words being said were some shouting from those petty officers.

Once the men were standing quietly before the quarterdeck, Phillips nodded to the first officer, who began to read the document aloud. Once finished, Phillips announced in a loud voice, “I hope we will have a successful commission, men. Should any of you men have a request or complaint that you feel only the captain can solve, please inform your duty officer. I will start seeing such men individually tonight. Dismissed!”

Turning to Wainwright, Phillips said he would like to see the captain’s quarters at once. In half an hour, he wanted to see the ship’s officers, then after that, would see the warrants. After that, he would see.

The flustered Wainwright said, “Sir, I have been using the captain’s quarters and my gear is there right now. It will take a few minutes for a work party to remove it.”

“That’s all right Mister Wainwright. I can at least look the place over while your gear is being removed. I must obtain furnishings here before we sail and I need to know what I must buy.”

Entering his new quarters, Phillips was amazed by the amount of gear the first officer had stowed there. Apparently, he had gone on a spending spree ashore and filled the space. The officer apologized again, saying that he had thought he would get the command and had purchased items here to take back to England.  Phillips shook his head. “Where you are going to stow this gear is beyond me, Mister Wainwright. Whatever you cannot fit into your own cabin, you will have to take ashore to ship back home.”

A detail of seamen rapidly carried all of the officer’s property out on deck. Warning the officer, Phillips told him the material would be off the ship by nightfall. He gave Wainwright permission to leave the ship and make necessary arrangements. “You will be back by nightfall, Mister Wainwright”, Phillips ordered.

As soon as his quarters were empty, he called for the carpenter. His sleeping quarters were bare except the frame of a hanging bed. The office was indeed bare. Phillips wondered if Wainwright had been a little too free in removing the furnishings. Surely the previous captain had left something behind.

No matter, what the carpenter could not fabricate, he could surely purchase ashore. When Mister Reynolds, popularly known as ‘Chips’ entered, he was asked for his opinion. Chips allowed as he could make a desk and table for his captain, as well as some cabinets. He did mention if the captain wished any fine furniture, it might be better bought on shore.

Phillips doubted the ship would be permitted to remain in harbor all that much longer, so told Chips to go ahead with his own work. If he needed any special materials, they could be purchased on shore. Opening one of his chests, he withdrew a purse and took out a guinea. “Let me know if more funds are needed”, he informed the carpenter.

The Marine sentry now stationed outside his door slammed the butt of his musket against the deck and shouted, “Ship’s officers, sir!”

Chips left as the officers entered. Besides Wainwright, there was the second officer, Mister Harrison, a young man in his early twenties. The third officer, Peabody, was a rotund fellow of about thirty. Since this officer had the latest commission date, he must have remained a midshipman well into his twenties. Perhaps his girth had something to do with the matter.

Turning to Wainwright, he told him he had some work to do with getting his gear ashore and shipment arranged to Great Britain, He had better get on with the task.

A party of seamen came to the entry and were announced by the sentry. They had carried up some chairs borrowed from the wardroom. Some thin planks were laid across a couple of boxes and they had a table.

Phillips went to a sea chest and drew out a metal flask and some silver cups. He poured a couple fingers of pungent Scot’s whiskey into each, apologizing for not having brought any wine on board. There were some grimaces as two officer with little experience with the drink tried it at first, but he noticed every man held out his cup for a refill.

With a few drinks in every man, the conversation, which had been a little stilted at first, soon became general. Phillips casually wondered about the paucity of seamen aboard ship. It was Harrison, the youngest officer there who had, what Phillips believed to be, the correct answer. His speech a bit slurred now, the young second officer speculated Wainwright was perturbed that he might not get command of the ship and was deliberately sabotaging the new captain when he came aboard. Peabody, with more body weight to absorb the whiskey, looked shocked at his superior’s indiscretion, but as the junior officer present kept his mouth shut.

Phillips, with the offer of replacements from HMS Triumph, could be complacent about the loss of many of the Blanches. In the morning, he would have a muster to see personally what he had to work with and what men were needed.

It was late when Lieutenant Wainwright came aboard. In his cabin, Phillips, lying in a hammock until he could get his bed put together, heard the exchange on deck between Wainwright and Peabody, who was supervising the anchor watch. Peabody had merely commented on the quietness of the evening and Wainwright blistered the officer’s ears for having the effrontery to speak to him in such a manner. Phillips considered going on deck to watch over this situation, but Wainwright descended to the wardroom and all was quiet again.