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

Phillips was cold and wet from the journey down the Thames, so he ordered the launches cox’n to take him to Terrier. The cox’n looked at him questioningly as they approached. Normally, the cox’n would answer the hail from a ship he was carrying a captain to by shouting the name of that ship. Since Phillips was no longer captain of Terrier, he could not use that reply, and he had not officially reported aboard Badger yet either. Presumably that ship still had a captain aboard that might resent another officer assuming the title prematurely. So, when the hail came from the midshipman of the watch, Phillips merely said, ‘Aye.’

This indicated only that an officer of no particular status was reporting aboard. The mid aboard Terrier, having seen Phillips every day for the past commission, thought he had misunderstood the answer to the hail and rushed to get Mister Davison.

After being welcomed aboard, Phillips invited Davison to his cabin and broke the news. The former master’s mate was delighted. It was now official, he was a commissioned officer. No longer would he have to be concerned over the loss of his position and the possible exile back to the gunroom. Phillips gave him the orders, informing him they would not be valid until he took up his position aboard Badger.

He informed Davison he would necessarily stay aboard Terrier until the new captain or first lieutenant boarded. He asked Davison to send a midshipman in the jolly boat to Badger to deliver a note to the present captain.

Sitting at his tiny desk, he uncorked his ink and scribbled out a short message saying that he would come aboard at whatever time was convenient. Should he not hear differently, he would come at noon.

Phillips and Davison spent the night going over the inventory of articles which must be accounted for. Much had already been done on the voyage home, but last minute changes had to be documented. With no sleep that night, he was exhausted the next morning but forced himself to stay awake in case the captain of the Badger should come aboard early.

He was almost asleep on his feet when the midshipman of the watch ran in to say a boat was leaving the Badger with its captain in the stern.  Phillips shrugged into his heavy coat and placed his scraper on his head. He waited for the hail of the anchor watch and it came, but the reply was merely ‘Passing’.

When he gained the quarterdeck, he saw the boat, its crew busy setting its sail before it disappeared behind some shipping toward the Thames. This was strange behavior indeed. He assumed the former captain of Badger had received news that he was being relieved and of course that meant the two would need to go over the ship’s books together.

Phillips had no notion at all of buying a pig in a poke. He intended to take as much care over the new ship’s inventory as he had with his own. Should he sign for inventory that was not actually present, he could very well end up paying for it himself. Perhaps the man was on a local mission and would return shortly.

Too tired to wait much longer, he decided to find out what was going on and then get some sleep. Descending into his gig, the crew pulled him over to Badger, where it was challenged. Again, he did not wished to pronounce himself captain until all the amenities had been observed. A word to the cox’n repeated the ‘Aye aye’ he had given when coming back to Terrier the day before.

The ship’s crew was well drilled as to the honors to a visiting captain, and the sideboys and Marines were present. A painfully thin lieutenant doffed his hat as he came through the entry port and introduced himself.

Lieutenant Danson offered to take him to the captain’s cabin where they could discuss the change in command. Phillips thanked him but replied it would be better to wait until the ship’s captain would return.

“Sir”, Danson informed him. “I don’t think we will see Captain Welles again. He received notice yesterday that he was being superseded and is now on his way to London.”

“Well, what about the ships books? What are we to do about them? We will need to have Captain Welles signature on the ship’s papers before the change of command is complete.”

“Sir, Captain Welles told me I could throw them over the side for all he cared. He said the Navy could do nothing more to him than they had already done.”

This was a new one for Phillips. He had not the slightest wish to assume command of a strange ship without an accurate inventory. A big, bluff-bowed 74 gun ship-of-the-line, anchored close by gave him an idea. Such a ship would have a senior post captain who could likely give him good advice. Hopefully he would be on board. Still using Terrier’s launch, he had himself pulled over. The liner’s first officer met him and reported the captain had had a late night the evening before and had not been seen on deck yet.

Phillips told the lieutenant his problem which the officer promised to relay to his captain when he appeared on deck.

An hour later, Phillips, himself resting in the cabin after returning to Terrier, was awakened by the anchor watch hailing a boat. The reply ‘Triumphant’ informed him this was the ship’s captain of the liner coming aboard. Knowing he could trust Davison to manage the welcome ceremony, he spent a few minutes getting himself presentable. He had already shaved earlier so that saved time.

He went on deck just as a portly post captain, with a gilded epaulette on each shoulder, came aboard. He introduced himself as Captain Phelps. After the stamp and the clash of the brig’s few Marines was finished, Phillips invited him into his cabin.

The guest answered, “Captain, I commanded a brig like this many years ago. I know just what size of cabin you have. I drank too much brandy last night, and my head is reminding me of that right now. I would rather stay right here on deck. Now, just what is your problem?’

Phillips relayed the information he had. He was charged with taking command of HMS Badger, but the previous captain had decamped without notice, ignoring the ship’s books. No inventories were evident.

With that, Phelps decided he could make at least a token appearance into the ship’s cabin. The two men boarded Phelps’s boat and were pulled over to Badger. On entering that ship’s cabin, great masses of papers were found strewn willy-nilly about in no order at all. Phelps whistled to himself, and made a brief essay into examining a handful of random papers.

Giving up, he announced, “This is beyond my efforts. Have you your orders?” Phillips did, and Phelps gave them a cursory glance.

Leading Phillips out on deck, he handed the orders to Mister Danson, the bewildered first officer, and asked him to call the hands and read the orders aloud. That done, Phillips was now officially the captain of HMS Badger.

Phelps addressed the crew. “Men, as my ship has been moored beside yours for a week, I am familiar with some of the difficulties on your ship. Captain Phillips here is a fine officer who I am told is not a friend of the cat. I am sure if you listen to him and do your duty, your ship will become a happy one again.”

It was necessary to convene a board to examine what there were of the ship’s books and reconstitute the ships inventory of property. The ship’s log had not been kept up for weeks, but the Master had kept his scrupulously and proper notation was made of Badger’s recent history. Clerks and pursers from ships at the Nore were borrowed to bring the paperwork up to date. A strict accounting was made of all King’s property aboard. When Phillips was satisfied, he signed the inventory and the ship was now his officially.

Phelps came over the day before Badger sailed with news of the former captain’s travails. He reported Commander Welles would soon be tried at court martial for his failings. It was predicted the man would never sail in a King’s ship again. He would definitely be charged with all King’s property charged out to him but not listed in the latest inventory.

Right after Captain Phelps left, a thirty two gun frigate sailed into the anchorage and a passenger debarked. This was the new captain of Terrier. Badger’s former first officer received orders to sail on Terrier as first officer in the brig. Phillips went aboard his old ship after the new officer had been welcomed and produced his signed copies of all relevant ships papers. He, Davison and the new captain spent the rest of the day going over ship’s property. There was some controversy over the unusual armament. Phillips took the men into the hold to examine the four thirty two pounder carronades now serving as ballast. He also showed the entry in the ship’s log where the four French eight pounder long guns were reported.

Next morning, it was time to sail.

HMS Badger prepared to set out on her voyage to the East. Her captain had not had much time to spend with his crew what with all the details he had to attend to, He had noticed many of the men were surly and grouchy. Some seemed to enjoy seeing just how far they could get away with their silent contempt of their officers and petty officers. Many of his fellow captains would have triced a few men to the gratings and had some powerful bosun’s mates lay on the lash. Phillips decided not to go that route though. He knew their long history of receiving harsh punishment had brought them to this stage.

He had taken Lord Eckersley’s advice and exchanged twenty of the more hardened offenders into Terrier and taken aboard the same number of men he was sure he could count on. He had also arranged to exchange his ship’s Royal Marine detachment for different men from other ships. He was sorry to leave his bad apples to work their mischief on Terrier, but he knew the brig would be staying in home waters for weeks. If trouble emerged, the new captain would have the opportunity to get local assistance. Too, most of his hands were capable seamen, proud of their skill and unlikely to listen to a rabble rouser.

Before the offenders selected to descend into the boat, he addressed the entire crew. “Men, I know you have had legitimate problems with the Royal Navy. Were I in your shoes, I might feel resentful too. The officer who caused the problems is gone and will likely never be in a position to mistreat a crew again. Some of you are angry at being pressed and taken from your families. Some of you want to strike out at the Navy for doing this to you.”

“Unfortunately, your country needs your services. Bonaparte is right across the channel and would invade us if he had half a chance. We need all of you men to do your jobs. If you will not, we must take certain measures.”

“I myself am not a believer in the cat. Those who do not believe me are free to ask the men who have come over from Terrier. I believe flogging does more harm than it does good. I have tried treating this crew with restraint, but that seems to have failed with some of you men. Therefore, I have exchanged with my old brig. I have taken men from her I know I can rely on and am sending her men who I believe I cannot. I have no idea how your new captain in Terrier will handle those of you that come to him. I suspect he will go one of two routes.”

“He may just rig the gratings and flog the lights out of you, as your last captain did. Or, he may call for extra Marines from that third rate over there and send you to shore for court martial. You know what will happen then, just as I do. You will either be flogged around the fleet, which if it does not kill, you will surely cripple you. Or, you will be hanged with your dead bodies covered in tar and displayed in gibbets along the shore until your bones fall apart.”

‘Of course, none of this has to happen. You may just decide to behave yourself and do your duty. Someday, the enemy permitting, you may go home to your family.”

“For you men sailing with me, I will probably not rig the grating, should you decide to give me trouble. I will merely put you in irons and turn you over to the port admiral in Portsmouth. Now, Mister Davison will read out the names of the men transferring to Terrier. Those men will proceed to the port and get into the boat.”

The first few men went quietly. Then a burly fellow went berserk and tried to thrash the pair of bosun’s mates who tried to pull him to the port. With that, the Sergeant and Corporal of Marines waded in. The corporal used a butt stroke of his musket to the man’s head to lay him on the deck, unconscious. Sergeant Boseley examined the culprit and expressed his belief the man would survive. The inert figure was lashed to a board and left until the empty boat returned. He was lowered into the boat and Lieutenant Davison took him ashore where he was turned over to the permanent Royal Marine detachment there, with an affidavit of the charges against the man. When Davison returned, he informed Captain Phillips, in front of the two helmsmen, the Marines had assured him the individual would be tried at courts martial. The helmsmen would ensure the rest of the crew would hear about it before the day was over.

Now at sea, HMS Badger sailed well enough but Phillips was not quite satisfied with how she steered. He felt she would handle better if her stern sat a little lower in the water. Therefore, he left instructions that, for now, water and beef would be drawn from the most forward casks. Once out of the Channel and on a southerly course, the weather began to moderate. One day, the sky was clear and it was warm enough that men off watch could be given permission to rest in the sun on deck.

The men were beginning to settle down. The petty officer’s had been given orders to stow their ‘starters’, the knotted lengths of rope used to ‘encourage’ men to work faster. He had had to warn his petty officers against excessive force toward crewmen.

Some of the original members of Badger’s crew just could not understand about the new order. A few decided to take advantage of the situation and began to actively ignore orders from petty officers.

By this time the sloop had met with some weather and the seas were rough. Water was coming into the ship from spray, as well as water entering the hull seams when the ship worked. Often, it was necessary to man the pumps a half hour or more every watch.

Those men running afoul of their petty officers were assigned to that duty, when they were off watch. In other words, a man would finish his own work, then after relief, would descend into the bowels of the ship to labor on a pump handle until the ship was dry again.

It was further decreed by the first lieutenant that no man receiving punishment would be eligible to receive his daily rum ration. This was probably a greater punishment than the extra labor, since the grog issue was the high part of every day to most sailors. When a few men decided to refuse to perform the extra labor, they were put in irons and stretched out on the orlop deck. Upon reaching Portsmouth, these men were sent ashore, their misdeeds documented. 

It was a long voyage down the European coast into African waters. Badger was well supplied and Phillips saw no need to stop at Gibraltar. It had previously crossed his mind he might need to visit that port if he needed to offload more unruly crew. Some of the petty officers had spread the word of the horrors that could befoul any man being sent ashore there. Those individuals would be at the mercy of the military authorities. By now, even the worst of the remaining malcontents had become resigned to their duty.

The sailing master on the ship-sloop was a mature master’s mate who was almost ready for a warrant. Mister Tringle had made this voyage to the southern latitudes before and was a mine of information for his captain. Phillips had also learned from his father of some of the dangers likely to be experienced off the African coast. Taking note of these warnings, he stayed well out to sea. For one thing, the sand storms off the desert coast were not nearly as unpleasant out of sight of land. Much of the sand would fall into the sea before reaching that far. One day though, an especially powerful storm from the east brought their full ration of sand. The wind was on their port beam and a band of sand and dust obstructed their vision ahead.

With sand being steadily blown into eyes, the lookout aloft was especially troubled, since he was required to keep his eyes open for danger. Phillips took a leaf out of the desert Bedouin’s book and sent aloft a long length of cloth to bind over the lookout’s face, just leaving a crack open to see through. The ship captain and helmsmen at the wheel each suffered likewise with the sand.

Suddenly, the lookout shouted, “Ship just off the port bow!”

And there she was, coming right toward them, just inshore of them. The wind had died down, dropping its load, and visibility was much improved. At first Phillips doubted the stranger’s crew had seen them, as there was no untoward activity apparent on the now visible ship. She was a ship-rigged vessel of moderate size and as she closed it was clear she was a ship of war. Either a large corvette or a small frigate.

He probably had no business engaging her, since she was either equal to his ship or perhaps slightly larger. Closer to Europe, he would have had no qualms about fighting her, since the Royal Navy prevented most French warships to spend enough time at sea to train their crews. This one though, was coming back from an Eastern visit. She would have had plenty of opportunity to train her officers and crew along the way. Perhaps she was one of those enemy ships preying on British ships in the Indian Ocean, although this one seemed to be a French National ship, rather than a privateer.

The marine drummer was racketing away on his drum and the crew was clearing away all gear in the ship that might get in their way. The lethargic behavior of some of the crew had gone. Here was excitement, adventure and potential profit. Standing beside some hands coiling line at the base of the mizzen, he mentioned to his first officer what he thought the value of a share in her might be worth when they brought her into Table Bay.in southern Africa. The hands would surely pass this information on to their mates.

As the guns were cast loose and the tompions removed, the approaching ship suddenly awakened. Coming closer by the minute, the stranger proved to be a smallish twenty-gunned ship. Neither fish nor fowl, she was the French national corvette Diligente. In the Royal Navy, she would be counted a post ship, to be commanded by a post captain. Not really a frigate, but considered superior to a sloop-war such as HMS Badger.

Her men began to boil up out of the hatches and her quarterdeck was populated, as she awakened to the danger. Apparently, many of her crew had been below sheltering from the flying sand. At first unsure as to her nationality and fearing to fire into a friendly ship, Phillips was satisfied to see her run up her tricolor. Looking up, he saw Badger’s own red ensign and commission pennant were flying.

When they met, Badger was ready, but the enemy was not. The crew of Badger had had many days at gun drill recently, which displeased some of the more surly hands, but at least everyone now knew their place and their duty. This was not quite apparent on the approaching enemy. To get a better view, Phillips had climbed partly up the starboard mizzen shrouds. There seemed to be massive confusion aboard the enemy ship. Some of her guns were manned and run out, on others, untrained crew were trying to decide what to do. Phillips saw a quarterdeck officer dash his speaking horn to the deck in disgust.

Phillips, back on the quarterdeck, usually had a midshipman beside him to relay messages. Mister Santini was told to run down the deck to inform the gunners they were free to fire only when they had good aim. He wanted no shot going off in the blue, or slashing into the sea frightening the fish. Every gunner must have a good shot before him before he should pull his lanyard.

As the two ships approached, port side to port side, the guns began to thunder one or two at a time. There was an almost steady staccato fire as the ships passed each other. When Badger passed by the enemy, Phillips immediately put her about and crossed her stern. As the ship started going into the wind, Badger’s canvas began to shiver as she began to lose her luff. Only a few of the portside guns were loaded but those fired into the enemy’s unprotected stern as they passed. The aftermost gunner on the port side took an especially careful aim before he fired. His ball struck the enemy’s helm and as a dividend went on then into the mizzen.

The single nine pound shot was not enough to bring down the mast. But it was weakened and men rushed into the tops to reduce sail. Phillips suspected the enemy captain was fearful the injured mast might fall. Mister Davison up forward had a crew of sail handlers to haul the jib over to catch the wind to bring her head around. Now she was coming up on the frigate’s starboard quarter,

Hands were at work on the braces to get her yards around .More guns were loaded now, and they pounded their deadly hail into her. A load of grape hit her mizzen shrouds. The enemy crew had not been able to get the canvas down yet from the mast with the damaged shrouds and the pressure on the remaining shrouds was too much. The mizzen came crashing down to port.

Now coming up the enemy’s starboard side, the guns kept up their thunder. Few of the enemy guns on that side were manned. The fast pace of events and the damage to their ship was beginning to overwhelm the enemy crew. Close in as they were, the loads of grapeshot were doing fearsome damage to the enemy. Almost magically, the group of officers on her quarterdeck vanished as a cloud of grapeshot from several guns came aboard. One moment the captain was standing by the stub of his mizzen and the next he was gone.

Badger continued up the length of the ship, thumping her loads into her. Then Mister Santini began shouting, “She strikes, Captain!”

The enemy tricolor was descending and her guns, those few still firing, were now silent. It took some effort to convince some of Badger’s gunners to cease fire.