by M. C. Muir
‘This evening, I will speak with the officers and give them their orders. Please pass the word.’
The great cabin was indeed the largest area Oliver Quintrell had ever enjoyed for his sole use. With quarter windows and glass casements stretching along the stern, it appeared even roomier. The view of ocean, horizon and sky was not wasted on him. The pair of cannon, one on either side of the deck had to be ignored. On this occasion it was the venue for the evening meal, the chairs having been brought up from the hold and the table set for fourteen guests.
While the meal was cooked in the main galley and delivered to the dining room, Casson, with the assistance of a small contingent of young gentlemen volunteers, took charge of the preparations and service.
At eight o’clock, the officers of Royal Standard took their seats around the table. In addition to the lieutenants, there were five midshipmen and six warrant officers, including the purser, the sailing master, doctor and schoolmaster. A handful of the young gentlemen were permitted to assist at the table. Mr Greenstreet had provided his recommendation of the most suitable boys to nominate.
After a round of drinks, the dishes arrived commencing with a tureen of turtle soup followed by roasted young goat. Boiled tern eggs were served with some of the vegetables, delivered fresh to the ship in Cork that had retained their colour and flavour – such a welcome change from salt pork and six-month-old sauerkraut and swedes.
Eyes widened, mouths watered and stomachs tightened as the senior officers were the first to be served. For two of the young middies, this was their first trip to sea and their first time at the captain’s table. The two young gentlemen who had assisted the injured sailing master on the island were allowed to take a plate when the others had been served.
When the meal began and the glasses had not yet been refilled, the conversation centred on the ship’s previous missions. Lieutenant Brophy was eager to relate some of the action he had been involved in, which he claimed was aboard Royal Standard. Yet, from the captain’s earlier conversation with the carpenter, and the state of the ship, the claim of battle action was at odds with the advice he had received – that the ship had never faced a broadside. Considering the congenial atmosphere, Oliver chose to remain silent about the matter.
It was before the dessert was served, the captain tapped his glass and drew the attention of the company.
‘Gentlemen, as we sit down together, I take this opportunity to speak with you all. I apologise that this gathering is long overdue. Being given command of Royal Standard was a surprise to me – a welcome surprise, I might add, however, not so for you, the death of your previous captain and change of command happening suddenly must have come as a shock.
‘First, I must remind you that we all serve His Royal Highness, King George. While facing unexpected challenges, we operate on a system of well-tried and tested routines, and it is that stability, reliability and trust which welds the navy together. The punishments that are meted out on some ships are often the result of a chink in our own defences, to failings and shortcoming along the way. But without the regulations set down in the Articles of War, without following orders and abiding by those principles laid down for us all, the system is in danger of falling apart. I shall say no more. I do not want to spoil your appetites.’
The captain received some muted applause.
‘I am not here to remind you of your duty. Looking around I can see that some of you have served for several years, though the majority of you are fairly new to the service. Whatever, I am sure your behaviour on the loss of your previous captain was met with the dignity desired, as indeed was the welcome you gave me when I came aboard, and the condition in which I found the ship. I commend you all.
‘Now, however, we have a new challenge – namely we have adopted a frigate that has floated into our path. Whether we truly want it or indeed, need it is of no matter. It has become our responsibility. As you are probably aware, Scorpion is a French ship of 24-guns.’
Mr Adams leaned forward in his chair. ‘Begging pardon, Captain, but might I ask where you think it came from and how it came to arrive at this point?’
‘Those are difficult questions to answer on which one can only speculate. However, being French-built, she may have been serving the French islands in the West Indies. I suggest that during one of her voyages, she sailed into the path of a hurricane and was in danger of sinking or ran aground somewhere, at which time her crew considered her unsalvageable and proceeded to strip and abandon her. It is likely fate played a hand. If, some time later, another storm re-floated her, the Gulf Stream would have carried her north and sent her on a meandering drift around the Atlantic’s laterals – skippered only by the prevailing winds and sea currents.
‘From there,’ the captain continued, glancing at a map of the world on the far wall, ‘the North Atlantic swell would have driven her south towards the Equator. Once she reached the tropics she would have been dependant on the Trade winds and perhaps became a little confused.’
‘Until we found her.’
‘Correct.’
‘She’s a nice prize,’ the youngest of the midshipman whispered to his mate.
‘A prize, you say, Mr Adams?’
Not realising the captain had been privy to what he’d said, the young man blushed.
‘I am sorry to disappoint you, and while others may be of the same opinion, this 28-gun ship, albeit French built, is not a prize of war. We did not win her in battle. She is a salvage vessel and, if the Navy Board deems her to be so, we will receive only one eighth of her value, if we are lucky. They will decide her fate and it is possible we may not benefit one iota either from the value of the ship or its contents.’
The look of disappointment showed on several faces particularly those who had already mentally spent the prize money they had expected to receive.
‘But, consider this,’ the captain said, ‘Scorpion is not a wreck. Far from it. Her condition is sound and, once pumped out, she will perform well with the likelihood of making more speed than the vessel we are sailing on. Consider also, if we had met up with any French or Spanish ships while sailing alone, our chances of defending ourselves and coming away unscathed, was not good, however, with two ships making a combined total of 74-guns, we will be a formidable force to be reckoned with. Depending on the size of the enemy, the tables may be turned in our favour putting us in a position to capture a real prize or two.’
Feet stamped on the floor and hands tapped on the underside of the table in approval.
‘However, any French ships crossing our path will be eager to take back one of its lost frigates. I do not intend to let that happen.’
Oliver looked around the cabin at the eager young faces listening to his every word. ‘Currently, the dilemma I am faced with is that we have insufficient men to serve two fighting ships. It will be impossible to man all 74-guns and work both ships simultaneously, so I will depend on the division captains to make best use of the numbers allocated to them.’
The captain glanced to the man sitting to his right. ‘As you may have heard, Lieutenant Brophy will take command of Scorpion. And, as we head south, the two ships will sail in convoy until we raise Cape Town.
‘Presently there are men working on the pumps. If the water can be eliminated and the carpenter can stop the seepage in the hull, I believe Scorpion will prove to be a speedy sailer and Royal Standard will be hard pressed to keep pace with her.’
The cabin remained silent.
‘With the sailing master’s assistance, I will chart our course as we head south. Hopefully, we will stay clear of the French shipping lanes. But these waters still remain the haunts of Portuguese slavers, not to mention pirates and privateers. My advice is to make sure you always keep a sharp eye on the horizon. Apart from that, Gentlemen, enjoy your meal and I wish you good health.’
The choice of sailors to transfer to Scorpion came first from a call for volunteers. Initially, there were some hands who were eager to serve on
the smaller and faster frigate, while others wished to remain on Royal Standard and were not prepared to leave. The rumour that they were sitting atop a powder keg changed a few minds, until the captain advised that a portion of the gunpowder would be transferred to Scorpion’s magazine.
When the volunteers consisted of groups of mates who served together on gun crews, the captain intervened. He could not risk depleting the gun crews on Royal Standard.
Apart from those who volunteered, Oliver insisted that amongst the Scorpion’s crew, a carpenter’s mate, boatswain’s mate, cooper’s mate and the loblolly boy should be included in the transfer, along with four good topmen. As the ships would be sailing in tandem, mutual assistance could be given from Royal Standard at any time, if needed.
The selection of a sailing master was made from Mr Brannagh’s mates, while a lieutenant and two midshipmen were allocated by Captain Quintrell.
To replace Mr Brophy as first lieutenant on Royal Standard, Mr Weir was appointed to that post. Of the officers remaining aboard the 50-gun ship, two of the midshipmen were stepped up to serve as acting third and fourth lieutenants. Two of the older and more sensible young gentlemen, were allowed to stand as acting midshipmen under the supervision of the sailing master. It was Captain Quintrell’s intention to include the eight convicts he had interviewed earlier, into the ship’s working crew with the proviso they remained on Royal Standard.
Though both ships were badly undermanned, the overall result was that each ship carried a capable and experienced crew.
The final tally in Scorpion’s new muster book was eighty-one souls leaving Captain Quintrell with a crew of a little over two hundred and sixty – sufficient to man a small frigate. But with fair winds and seas, and sound hulls, the two ships should have no problems making Cape Town in a few weeks’ time – providing they did not encounter any French ships along the way.
Because Scorpion had been stripped bare of provisions when it had been abandoned, it took four days to complete the transfer of men and sufficient victuals from Royal Standard.
The following day, with Captain Brophy in command of the French frigate, work on the outstanding repairs proceeded immediately and seemingly without incident. For two weeks the ships headed south, sailing in tandem. But being within earshot of the 50-gun ship, men and officers on both vessels were aware they were under constant observation.
The first flogging, however, surprised everyone.
When Scorpion’s company was called on deck to witness punishment, Captain Quintrell immediately despatched Mr Holland to attend and report on the circumstances. The fact it was only two dozen lashes was not excessive, but the offence – being late on watch after breakfast – seemed fairly extreme and was taken badly by the rest of the crew.
Soon after that, requests from the men to transfer back to the 50-gun ship started filtering across the pond, but Oliver would not hear of it. South Africa was only a few weeks’ sail away and, in the meantime, both ships would have to contend with affairs as best they could. It was up to each captain to handle any situation the way he felt fit.
Chapter 17
Storm at sea
With the intention of maintaining the officers’ good spirits, Captain Quintrell invited them to take dinner with him again in the great cabin. This time, he was unable to include Captain Brophy and Scorpion’s officers in his invitations.
After having partaken of a hearty course, the steamed pudding arrived with hot syrup running down its sides and swimming on the platter. The smell reminded the youngsters of home. With the decanter filled for the third time, the chatter grew louder. Cigar smoke curled to the overhead beams and hung suspended in a blue haze. While the midshipmen tittered and coughed at their own private jokes, the anecdotes and ditties, delivered by the older members of the company, commanded everyone’s attention. Assisted by two of the officers’ servants, Michael Casson supervised the clearing of the table, the last of the dishes being carried out when a low rumble reached them only moments before havoc unleashed itself on the ship.
Being otherwise occupied, no one at the table had looked at the sky or the barometer in the last hour. The blast of hurricane force wind hit Royal Standard on its starboard beam and heeled it over. The main yard sliced into the sea taking the forecourse with it. That acted as a sea anchor and swung the hull around to port. The reverberation through the wooden ship was like a full broadside from a man-of-war.
‘Hold tight!’ the captain yelled, though his voice was lost in the thunderous clatter as every man and object that was not fastened down was sent crashing over.
‘Oh, God! We’re done for,’ a voice screamed, before it was muffled.
Any item remaining on the dinner table, including the cloth itself, slid off. The huge table remained upright, surviving the ninety degree tilt only because its legs were nailed to the deck. The officers, however, and the chairs they had been seated on were thrown across the cabin. Even the heavy sea chests, the middies had been sitting on, rolled over, one landing on the legs of one of the unfortunate youngsters, pinning him to the deck. Without warning the door flew open delivering Casson and one of the other servants back into the great cabin sluiced in on a torrent of seawater. At the same moment, the gallery windows on the larboard side exploded and broken glass and water gushed into the great cabin. The two great guns bounced on their trucks, but fortunately did not break from their lashings.
As the officers fought frantically to get themselves upright, the ship struggled to do the same – stretching every fibre of its timbers, twisting every joint and plank under the pain of being drawn and quartered. With no help from sails or helm, Royal Standard slowly began to right itself.
The glass panels in the lantern swinging overhead had been smashed, scattering fragments all around, the flame had gone out blinding the men in total darkness. A match was lit. The lantern’s wick reignited.
‘What happened?’ one of the middies yelled. ‘Did we hit something? Are we sinking?’
‘I’d wager it was a rogue wave,’ Captain Quintrell advised calmly.
‘Why didn’t the lookout give a warning?’
Oliver glanced to the barometer swinging like a pendulum from a nail on the wall. The pressures had dropped significantly since he had last looked. ‘Who is officer of the watch?’ he asked.
‘Mr Holland.’
‘Then, God help him and every other man who was on deck. I trust the crew had time to go below, but I fear not all will have survived this catastrophe.’
A cry of pain came from one of the young gentlemen and the captain knew not all the injuries would come from the deck.
‘You there, lend a hand. Get this chest off Mr Knox’s legs. Mr Weir, Mr Aitcheson, I want everyone on deck to lend a hand. Mr Brannagh, you too. Reduce all sail and check the rudder. Find the carpenter. Tell him to check the well. And get some hands onto the pumps. Mr Weir, you are now acting first lieutenant, are you not?’
‘Yes, Captain.’
‘Take the deck and relieve Mr Holland. Mr Greenstreet, check on the convicts. You will, no doubt, find them in pitch darkness. Take a lantern and release any men that are injured and have them brought to the cockpit. Being closely confined in their compound may have cushioned them. They cannot have fallen too far. However, the shackles may have inflicted some injuries to their legs. Ask the cooper to remove the rivets in their irons. I will speak with the Captain of the Marines and instruct him to put his men to work.’
Finally, Oliver looked to the gallery windows and seeing the broken glass scattered all over the floor, he thought of the dog. ‘Someone call Chalmers. If the dog has survived, tell him to bring him inside. He can put it into my sleeping cabin for the present.
‘Mr Weir, pass a message to Scorpion. I want a report from Captain Brophy as to their damage, and an injury count, as soon as possible. I will be on deck in a moment.’
Despite the mess and confusion in the great cabin, Casson remained calm throughout, assuring his captain it would
all be attended to in quick-sticks. Oliver did not linger, after locating his boat cloak, he went through to the quarterdeck.
On the starboard side, young Mr Holland, who was officer of the watch, was crumpled against the gunwale with the doctor leaning over him. Two of the topmen had a firm grip on the helm. The wind was still strong while the sea, whipped into huge white caps, was washing across the full width of the deck.
‘Report please, Mr Holland. What happened?’
‘It came out of nowhere, Captain,’ the lieutenant replied between gasps. ‘One minute we were commenting how well she was sailing and then boom – it was upon us. First we saw was the line of heavy rain bouncing up off the water. It was coming from the west directly for us like a herd of galloping horses, stirring up the surface with a thunderous roar that carried on the wind. Above it were curtains of black clouds even darker than the night sky. As for the sea, we didn’t see it, hear it or feel till it rose up and hit us. It was a giant wave like I’d never seen before. It reared up to the height of the topmast then lifted the ship and threw us over like a toy boat in a raging river. I sent men up top to shorten sail, as soon as we saw it coming but that wasn’t soon enough and the men weren’t quick enough to do anything or even to get down. God knows where they are now. I pray they were able to hold on. We were carrying a full head of sail when it hit so when she went over, I feared the canvas would drag us under. Thank God, she managed to right herself.’
‘A thought I feared also,’ Oliver murmured. ‘Let’s get those sails close reefed. I doubt we will get a repeat of that wave but cannot be too sure. And the man on the helm? How did he fair?’
‘He hung on while the water took his feet from under him and another hand grabbed a rung and the pair stopped the wheel from spinning. The rudder is answering, Captain, I’ve been told.’
‘Good man,’ Oliver said. ‘Mr Larkin, kindly go below and check on the state of the barrels. But, mind, no lighted lantern near the powder kegs.’