Sails Across the Sea: A Tim Phillips Novel (War at Sea Book 8) (2 page)

On the road again, Phillips reached his parent’s home early that afternoon. His father was away at sea, but his mother was happy to see him. They had had a strange relationship during Timothy’s life. His mother Sarah was something of a free spirit.

At one time she had taken her children across the channel where she had gone into keeping with a French military intelligence officer. Sent back home on a futile mission to recruit her husband, a captain of the Royal Navy, into supplying information to the French, she then left home, to live with a failed gambler, leaving her children behind. Now, her problems seemed to be in remission, and she was a normal, loving wife and mother. Timothy would not for a moment seek investment advice from his mother but there was a neighbor living close by who he felt very comfortable about consulting.

Charlotte had served as a surrogate mother to Timothy and his sister during his mother’s episodes. She was a nearly lifelong friend as well as being a capable business woman, and what she did not know about financial dealings was probably not worth asking. A day after arriving home, he rode over to her estate and the two had a pleasant time exchanging reminiscences.

When he explained his windfall in funds, she agreed to advise him as to prudent investments. She told him at the moment there were no suitable properties nearby for purchase, but that could change at any moment. She too felt property was the prudent investment in these trying times.

The two agreed to meet in town in a week where he would hand over his currency to her. She would act as his agent to make what she considered proper investments.

Timothy was just becoming used to leading the life of a country gentleman when the post brought an order for him to report to Admiral Curtis in Portsmouth. With no reason given, Phillips dashed to get his kit prepared. He was not quite sure what he should do about his new chaise. He did need to return the mare he had left behind and rescue his gelding, so he hitched up the team and set out for the village where he had left the horse.

It was now perfectly healthy and Phillips settled the score with the livery. He spent the night in the village to rest the horse that had come from the estate with him and set out for London in the morning.

His family maintained a town house in London, and there he left the chaise and team. He took the post coach to Portsmouth, arriving there the next day. Exhausted by the travel, he spent the afternoon and evening at the George Inn, reporting for duty the next morning.

From the admiral’s flag officer he learned Aurora had burned at her mooring a few days before. Her blackened hulk had been pulled into the shallows by teams of oxen to avoid an obstruction in the busy harbor, but she was a total loss.

Sick at heart, he was ushered into Admiral Curtis’ office where he learned the sequence of events. It happened at night. Only a few men were aboard that evening. Lieutenant Perkins was aboard, staying in the captain’s quarters. The two midshipmen that had come with him were also aboard, staying in the otherwise empty wardroom with Chips, the carpenter. All other hands were ashore or in the receiving ship.

It had been a foggy night with limited visibility. A convoy was expected to arrive at any time, and orders had come that a signal gun was to be fired at regular intervals to provide guidance to any ship attempting to enter the harbor.

The new midshipmen had purchased a sheep which they proposed to soon butcher and roast for an entertainment planned with some friends. The animal was in a pen up forward near the swivel gun being used to fire the warning shots. The mids were taking it in turn to stand watch by the gun and fire a shot every half glass. Somehow, the linstock holding the burning slow match was knocked over into the sheep’s fodder, and the tinder dry hay caught fire. The tired mid had fallen off to sleep by then and the whole forward part of the ship was engulfed by flame before anyone took notice. Because of the paucity of men aboard, the only injury was to the midshipman who had caused the fire. He received serious burns and was sent ashore for treatment after being retrieved from the icy harbor water into which he had jumped.

A court martial was scheduled to be held as to the cause, but there was little doubt as to the outcome and it was expected both the sleeping midshipman and Lieutenant Perkins would be held accountable.

Admiral Curtis assured Phillips he would have no role in the proceedings since he had been absent from the scene on orders. The question that faced him was what to do with the crew of Aurora. These men were all well trained seamen now and would make valuable replacements for ships needing men, but Curtis thought it would be a shame to break up such a crew.

He did have a new Cruizer-class gun brig, rated as a brig-sloop with eighteen thirty two pound carronades about to be commissioned. As such, she rated a Commander and he was prepared to offer the command to Phillips if he wished it. His old crew aboard the Aurora would man the Terrier.

Without a second thought, Phillips accepted the offer and soon after, the orders were drafted and he hired a shore-boat to take him out to the brig. The Terrier was new, fresh from the builder with only the few newly-appointed standing officers aboard. The senior petty officer aboard, Gunner’s Mate Wilcox, reported the gun wharf superintendent had come aboard earlier and assured him the brigs’ carronades were available to be delivered.

Early on the next morning, staff began to appear. One of the first was the brig’s new first officer. Lieutenant Hawkins. Hawkins was a long-serving officer who had no influential patron behind him to push his career along. He had no money except his pay and had never been fortunate with prizes. Twice as old as his captain, Phillips wondered how their age difference was going to work out.

Early on, the Royal Marines came aboard. A sergeant, a corporal and eighteen privates. The seamen and petty officers from the burned Aurora came aboard in a body and the brig was now alive. The stores and armament appeared along with all the tools that went along with a Royal Navy warship. Her new hull gradually sank lower into the water as tons of material were loaded on board.

The crew was unusually experienced, being handed over intact as it were. Most warships at this stage of the war tended to sail with a distressing percentage of its men being untrained landsmen. Phillips would have faced combat with an equal French warship with equanimity with this crew.

However as long as he had the time to spare, he took the brig out in the Channel and began gun and sail drill to keep his men up to his standard. On the way back to the harbor he entertained Mister Hawkins in the cabin. During supper, he explained his difficulty with the brig’s armament.

“We have eighteen ‘smashers’, Mister Hawkins. This gives us a broadside greater than many a frigate, but the enemy has become acquainted with our carronades by now. Any enemy ship we meet will do her best to remain out of range of our guns, and could give us a pasting if they have any long guns aboard.”

We have a fast brig, and that will help us to keep up with any likely enemy and prevent them from getting to arm’s length, but I do wish we had some long guns to reach out to an enemy outside of carronade range.”

“But what can we do about it, Captain? The Office of Ordnance handles these matters, and we cannot influence them.”

“Oh, there are ways and means, Mister Hawkins. I will explore some of them. In the meantime, I would value your opinion on this Burgundy before us. I was told when I purchased it that it had just been landed.”

“This is smuggled wine, Sir?”

“I am sure it is. Mister Hawkins. Admiral Curtis gave me a course to the wine shop that stocked it.”

Lieutenant Hawkins had a strong Methodist bringing, and was decidedly uncomfortable about freely discussing criminal activity, such as purchasing smuggled wine for consumption aboard a King’s ship. He had little to say the rest of the meal.

Back in the harbor, Phillips made another visit to the Admiral’s office. He was not there at the time, so Phillips discussed his concerns with an elderly commander who was ‘holding the fort’ for Admiral Curtis in his absence.

“Captain Davis”, Phillips offered, “I think I am tempting fate if I sail out to sea with just my 32 pounder carronades. Surely, I have an astonishing weight of broadside, but it is close range stuff and if a French ship with a few long guns can keep at arm’s length, she could well give us some serious trouble.”

“Well, Phillips, just what the devil do you expect me to do about this? Ordnance decides matters like this. I might remind you, as soon as the dispatch pouch reaches us from London, you will be on your way to Gibraltar. You will take some transports with you which you will drop off for Wellington’s use. Anything you need done had best be finished by tomorrow.”

Phillips sat in his launch thinking a bit before he ordered his cox’n to take him to the brig, where he collected his gunner.

It was nearing the end of the working day when the men barged through the door of the shack that harbored the superintendent of the gun wharf. Greeting the suspicious official with jovial bonhomie he offered, “Mister Everson, I need some long guns for my gun brig. All she has are 32 pounder carronades and I need a few long guns that can reach out a little.”

Everson sniffed and said, “Well Captain, I am sorry for your lack but I don’t make the rules. Your brig was ordered to be fitted with the carronades and that is what she has. Good day, Sir.”

“Mister Everson, I realize the end of the working day is nigh and I am prepared to offer extra pay for workers to load the necessary guns and ball into my ship’s boats. We can furnish our own labor on our end.”

“Captain, you do not understand that HM government keeps very close watch on all King’s property. Since you are not allocated the weapons, there is no way I could furnish them without running afoul of King’s justice.”

“But what about captured enemy guns, Mister Everson? I know you have such. I sent in a prize filled with French ‘Eights’, fresh from a foundry.”

“Well, we do have such piled up in back, mixed up with worn out British guns. When we get enough, we send them to a foundry of our own to be re-cast. The new guns are in the French caliber and would be useless to you.”

“Mister Everson, you have no French eight pounder ball at all? I can prepare my own grape by breaking down our issue charges and remaking them.”

With a calculating look in his eye, Everson said, “There is a stack of the French guns behind yonder warehouse. There are even a few hundred balls to fit, but I am afraid they have been stored outside and are now rusty. I think four of the guns could be removed without notice and who would care about those French ball? I would sell that material to you for say £20, but I cannot since they are King’s property.”

“I am about to leave and it will be a few hours before the watchman comes on duty. By the way,would you care to donate £20 to our widow’s and orphan’s fund?”

Borrowing pen and paper from the official, Phillips wrote out a note-of-hand for the sum and scribbled ‘Widows and Orphans Fund’ on the bottom of the paper. Showing the note to Gunner Andrews, he asked him to take note of the purpose of the note. “I would not care for some person to get the wrong idea about where this money is going.”

After closely examined the paper, Everson then took the note, carefully tore the legend from the bottom, folded the paper and placed it in his pocket. I thank you for your charity, Captain. I am afraid I really must leave now. I need to find the watchman and insure that he will be coming on duty in two hours as he is scheduled.”

Walking a short distance, the men spotted the launch and longboat out in the harbor as arranged previously, the men resting on their oars. The gunner hailed the boats in his loudest voice and they began moving toward shore. The bosun’s mate took a party of men equipped with tackle to the back of the warehouse to see what was required.

A heavy tripod was already erected there with a block up in the apex. All that was required was to reeve line through the block. There were some four wheeled carts there, meant to be pulled by donkeys, but since there were none present, men would have to do.

Another party of men went over to the stack of French eight pounder guns and levered one off the top to crash on the stone pavement. A heavy mat was laid down beside it and the barrel was rolled onto the mat. Men tailed onto the lines running from the mat, and it was hauled over to the tripod.

The bosun made a cradle of line secured to the gun and another party dragged the gun, mat and all to the block, then hoisting the gun so a cart could be manhandled under it. Using drag lines to the cart, the gun barrel was hauled out onto the wharf. When three other guns were beside the first on the wharf, Phillips signaled Midshipman Orson to open the dark lantern for a few seconds. Soon an answering dim light flashed from the ship and the brig began to move. She ghosted across the harbor until she came up to the wharf. Crewmen on board tossed the mooring cables which were made fast to bollards on the dock.

Now, the brig’s main yard was swung out over the dock and with the aid of tackle, the first gun was hoisted off its cart. The load swung violently until men on the drag ropes damped its movement, then men on the brig’s capstan wound the weight straight up. After the gun cleared the ship’s side, the main yard was hauled around and the load deposited on deck.

When the other three guns were lying beside the first on mats, the brig was cast off from the dock and she proceeded to sea. Captain Phillips had alerted the port authorities that he would be proceeding out to practice gun drill after dark.