by David O'Neil
“Carter, let’s search the ship.”
“Aye, aye sir.” Calling for men to accompany him he set off, still hanging on for his life.
Within a few minutes he returned. “Sir, we have found him. It’s bad news I’m afraid. We found Mr. Wales at the bottom of the forward stairs. He has a broken leg and damaged his head. The men have taken him to his cabin. The carpenter is setting his leg and he has bandaged his head but he is still unconscious. You are in command, sir.”
For Martin the quiet last words from Carter sent a chill up his spine. He looked about him. The grim weather was still a problem. As he watched, the wind stripping the peaks of the waves, and sending the spray in sheets across the deck, hammering at the men hanging on to the rigging for their lives, he realized that this would be no easy task.
“We’ll ease her head northwards to take the pressure off the jury rig. Running with the wind should let her ride better.”
“What about the French, sir?” Carter sounded just a little anxious.
“They’ll just have to cope with the weather on their own.” Martin said with a hint of a smile.
Carter grinned, satisfied that his own opinion of this young man was confirmed. He may not be very old, or experienced, but he had the sort of strength that was already coming through. This situation would not send him into a panic. He would benefit from a little advice, of course.
The weather did not improve, and the ship labored through the angry waters of the Mediterranean. It was late in the afternoon when a new sound was heard through the racket created by the storm.
In the distance a brief flash of light appeared. It was followed by the crack of gunfire. A ship was fighting for its life. Still sailing downwind Le Corbeau approached the battle unseen or at least disregarded by the combatants.
Without thinking, Martin took the telescope captured with the ship up with him to the main top. From there despite the wild swings of the mast he was able to see over the intervening rain and surface spume. Two ships locked in combat. The bigger of the two was a French ship, by her rig. The other had a lateen sail. He guessed she would be a pirate from the Barbary Coast to the south.
As he watched the lateen sail was hauled down. He thought the pirate was a galley, and was manoeuvring to board the other ship.
He slid down the rope stay to the deck and turned to Carter. “It’s a Barbary pirate after a Frenchman, from the looks of it.”
“We don’t have a full crew, sir.” Carter sounded a little anxious.
“They don’t know that,” Martin said thoughtfully. “Suppose we appear and give them a broadside.” He tapped his fingers on the rail.
“But si……” Carter stopped as he realized what Martin was saying. “We could have both broadsides loaded and run out ready. They have boarded the prize, leaving a skeleton crew on the galley, with slaves at the oars.”
“We give them a broadside.” He hesitated. “They don’t know we are here! If we drift a boat down to her, we could board and release the slaves. The carpenter would bring his tools. Once we had the ship you could bring this ship close and give them a gun. I would hoist our own flag on the pirate.”
“Sir, that is madness. There may be enough men on the pirate to stop you. Even in all the confusion it will never work.”
“You are probably right. So first, get the guns loaded, bow chasers with ball, broadside with canister, and run out quietly, I will take the carpenter with me and we will drift down to the pirate on a rope tied to the small boat. Keep the ship up wind, but close the other ships. In this racket, they probably wouldn’t see or hear you anyway.
“If it is possible, I will board through the stern windows and see if we can release the slaves. If we can, I’ll show a light. Once they are released, we will take the galley, using the freed slaves. At that point I’ll show two lights. You can then show yourselves and fire a single gun. That should get their attention. If they don’t surrender tickle them up with the canister.”
Carter looked at Martin in astonishment. He could not believe this boy would suggest such a foolhardy plan. “But sir!”
“The guns, Carter. They are the key.” Martin turned and called the carpenter over. “Bring your tools. We will need to break the chains to release the slaves.”
The carpenter shrugged and went to fetch his tools. His long experience at sea had taught him, that you don’t argue with officers, even if they are still fourteen years old.
Carter got the men to work on the guns. There was still firing going on between the two embattled ships.
Martin and Adams, the carpenter, paid out the rope from their boat tossing up and down on the violent sea. Both were tied to the thwarts, in case the boat was upturned.
They came into the lee of the galley as they heard the crash when the two ships clashed, suddenly they were fending off from the carved stern of the ship.
The boat rose and fell, rising above the windows in the stern. There was a small gallery across the stern and Martin timed the rise of the boat and jumped catching the gallery rail and hauling himself aboard. The carpenter’s tool bag hit him in the chest as it arrived, followed by Adams who collapsed in a heap beside him on the gallery.
The window was not locked and the two men climbed into the stern cabin. The fighting seemed to be half on and half off the ship. Feet still pounded the deck, to and fro overhead.
Martin opened the cabin door. Men were fighting at the starboard bulwark where the two ships were held together by a series of grapnel lines. The stair to the slave deck was clear and the two men crept down the steps. Martin unbound the oilskin from his pistol, and loosened the sword, then drew it quietly. With pistol in one hand and sword in the other he went down the last few stairs to the galley deck. The stench was horrific.
Right in front of Martin, only five feet away, stood a big man stripped to the waist, he wore a loin cloth and a turban. Otherwise he was naked. Adams stepped past Martin and, lifting the small sledgehammer, hit the man over the head. The iron skullcap concealed by the turban rang with the impact. So the man did not die immediately. But he collapsed satisfactorily to the deck and exposed the view of the crowded benches. At the far end of the row of oars another man started forward lifting a massive curved sword. Martin lifted the pistol and shot him. The sound of the shot loud in the foetid air below decks but unheard amid the noise of battle above. Martin called “Any British here?”
“Will they fight?” Martin indicated the slaves in general. A chorus of voices answered from the benches. “Give us the chance.” The reply was reassuring.
Adams was at work at the clamps for the long chains running the full length of the galley benches. As he loosed the bolts retaining the chain the slaves pulled it through, allowing them to stand. Free from all but the chain between their wrists. The first row of men released went to the unconscious man felled by Adams. One wrapped his chains round the man’s neck and snapped it tight, nearly severing the head from his body. He released his chain, satisfied that the man was dead and turned to Martin for orders.
“Weapons?” Martin asked. The nearest man turned and indicated the rear bulkhead of the long cabin. The rack there contained pikes and swords. He strode down and smashed the crude lock with the iron wrist band of his chains. Another man was using a cold chisel and an iron bar to break the rivet holding the wristband of his companion’s chains. As soon as Adams cleared the second full length chain, he joined the other man, breaking the wristbands loose, releasing the men completely. The released men took weapons from the racks and stood waiting for orders. Martin remembered the light. “Adams, show the two lights to the ship.” Adams gave the tools to another man to carry on releasing the slaves and went into the rear cabin to show the lights.
Martin looked at the long chain. He turned to one of the British slaves. “Get them to bring the chain, we might be able to use it on the bastards.”
The man nodded and called to some of the others. “I’m Billy, sir. Billy Briggs.”
�
�Right, Billy. Let’s go and kill pirates.” He turned and went up the stairs to the main deck. There was still a melee of bloody fighting. There were obviously a lot of men on the French ship, though they were losing the battle. The fighting men surged forward as Martin watched. The growing group of freed slaves, anxious to gain revenge for their enslavement, surged forward attacking the rear of the pirate force, hacking and screaming as they tore at the men who had kept them at the oars with whips and scourges.
The chain was used to trap and bind several of the pirates. Martin did not see the men bound with the chain driven overboard, to drown screaming in the heaving water.
The fighting men seemed not to notice that the slaves were loose, until the cannon from the brig fired. There was a lull in the battle, but it soon restarted. Martin called to his band of men to fall back. He grabbed Billy. “Call them back and lie down. CANISTER.” He shouted.
Billy shouted in the tongue of the slaves, a sort of lingua franca of the benches. Many of the men heard and drew back. Others were deaf to his call.
The crash of the guns came again, and this time the whistle of the deadly load of pistol balls, swept the deck of the ships. Death came suddenly, and impartially, killing men from both sides, though the pirates took the worst of the losses, shielding their opponents with their bodies.
Chapter Four
Decisions
Through the ensuing hush came the voice. “Drop your weapons!”
The loom of the ship appeared out of the spray, the guns run out and apparently ready to fire.
Martin held his breath. The pirates had been reduced in number by the terrible destruction of the blast of canister among them. Bodies were strewn over the deck of the French ship, which Martin now realized was a corvette. He could see the torn French Tricolor, still flying from the forestay and the uniforms of the few survivors still on their feet.
He called to Billy, “Round them all up, Briggs.” Separate the French from the pirates, but disarm them all.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Billy called and started shouting instructions to the men. Four of the French were still standing, though several were wounded, and dead were spread all over the deck. The surviving officer said there was a doctor below deck tending the wounded. Those wounded on deck were carried below. The senior French officer was a cavalry Lieutenant. All the ship’s officers were dead, as were most of the crew.
The ship Le Ramier had been crowded with wounded from Corsica, where there was a revolt of the local people against the Republic. They had been driven south, round Sardinia, by the British ships barring them from the French coast. The weather had made their situation worse, and the encounter with the pirates had taken them by surprise. It had cost them a high proportion of the crew, and most of the walking wounded, who had come up to fight for the ship and their lives. The exhausted Hussar handed over his sword to Martin. Hardly able to stay on his feet, he was grateful to escape capture by the pirates.
The Captain and leader of the Barbary pirates, was one of the captives. Though wounded, he would have survived had he remained captive. At least as Billy observed he might have lived long enough to hang. As it was, Martin understood that the man had attempted to escape by jumping overboard. He suspected, that he was assisted, and probably dead before he hit the water.
Back on board Le Corbeau Martin went to report to a now conscious Lieutenant Wales. “So you see, sir. I had to try and do what I thought you would have done in the circumstances.”
Carter, who was standing by the door, smiled to himself. “This lad would make a good officer, after all. What was Mr. Wales going to say to that? I wouldn’t have attacked the pirates and taken two ships as prizes, added to the crew by nearly 100 men, and put a comfortable amount of golden guineas in my pocket.’ Carter did not think so.
Martin stood waiting to hear his fate,
When Wales spoke, it was after considerable thought. “You should not have taken action like that, but I cannot condemn you for taking the risk as you did. After all it is our duty to attack pirates wherever we find them. I will make that clear to the Captain when we arrive, and well done, Martin. Now, have me carried up to the deck where I can see to my duties. You will have to be my legs while this damn leg anchors me.”
Relieved, Martin saluted. “Aye, aye, sir.”
Carter spoke, “I’ll get the carpenter and some men to set up a place on the quarterdeck, sir.” He turned and disappeared, shouting for the carpenter.
The harbor at Gibraltar was busy, with small craft darting between the various ships moored there. The three ships sailed in, all three showing the union flag over the two French Tricolors and the strange tattered rag which was all that remained of the Algerian banner.
The harbor cutter met the ships as they came to anchor. The Commander standing in the stern-sheets called the deck. Martin saluted and answered since Lieutenant Wales was still unable to walk.
Martin called out, “Three prizes taken by HMS Arun, sir. Lieutenant Wales in command, currently injured and unable to walk, sir.”
On the deck of the corvette Martin waited anxiously for orders. Le Corbeau was having her mast refitted in the dockyard. The repairs to the corvette were much easier to carry out, mostly consisting of work that could be undertaken by the ship’s carpenter. The Arun’s prize crew were finishing off the repairs, the rigging being braced to Carter’s satisfaction. The hammering from below testified to the efforts of the carpenter in tidying up the damage that still remained from action of the previous weeks.
Lieutenant Wales was now in the hospital ashore, and Martin had been ordered to join the corvette Le Ramier with his prize crew while the Admiral arranged for her purchase and allocation as an addition to the fleet.
Billy Briggs approached and reported, Sir; boat approaching.”
Martin was startled out of his reverie by the words. “Oh! Thank you, Briggs. How are you settling in?”
“I’m pleased to be out of that bloody rowing boat, begging your pardon, sir. I’ll do well enough just now. You have a good crew on this ship.” He stood and waited to be dismissed.
Martin commented, “We won’t be on this ship much longer, I’m afraid.” He nodded at the boat drawing alongside. “Man the side, Bosun.” He called to Carter, having spotted the officer seated under the awning in the stern of the pinnace.
The officer who appeared was a man, perhaps thirty years old. He was followed by a younger man, a lieutenant scarcely older than Martin.
The pipes sounded and Martin saluted the two officers. “Midshipmen Forest, sir.”
“Commander Avery, reporting to assume command. This is Lieutenant Marsh. Take me below if you please, Mr. Forest. Mr. Marsh, I suggest you familiarize yourself with the ship.”
In the Captain’s cabin, now clear of all signs of its former occupant, with the exception of the former Captain’s boxed sextant, chronometer, and telescope, which was still lying on the sideboard, survivors of the action that had cost the former captain his ship.
The Commander seated himself at the table in the cabin and opened his orders. “I am instructed to assume command of HMS Pigeon (La Ramier), which ship has been brought into service with His Majesty’s navy. I am also charged with taking in a crew and returning to Eastern Mediterranean waters to join Captain Bowers in HMS Arun, under his command. You, Mr.. Forest, and the prize crew are to be carried along to be returned to HMS Arun along with Lieutenant Marsh, who is taking over the position of Lieutenant Wales.
“I will be coming aboard with my officers and crew in the forenoon in three days’ time. That is Saturday. By that time I will expect the complete list of stores ordered to be taken aboard. In view of the shortage of men at your disposal the ship will be warped alongside the quay, immediately the powder barges have been brought alongside. Any questions, Mr. Forest?”
Martin hesitated. “Sir, why are you passing these orders on to me? If Mr. Marsh is in command of the prize crew, should he not be here?”
“Mr. Marsh is
the nephew of Admiral Marsh, currently posted to the Admiralty. His rank is not gained by, how should I put it, experience. He is a nice enough fellow, and he will benefit from service under Captain Bowers.”
He leaned back in the chair. “Just a little tact during our voyage together, Mr. Forest, and I’m sure all will be well. I will read myself in when I return on Saturday. Meanwhile Mr.. Marsh will assume command. Do we understand each other Mr. Forest?”
“We do, sir,” said Martin, who certainly was not looking forward to the next two days.
The new name of the ship had been barely dry, when the lighters towed HMS Pigeon alongside the quay. With her powder and ammunition loaded and secure in the magazine, the work of loading the stores for their voyage now lay ahead.
Martin had a crew of forty-one, with the men from the privateer plus the addition of 12 of the galley slaves selected by Billy Briggs, so the loading work went reasonably well. Mr.. Marsh was puzzled by the fact that Martin, an officer, was actually helping the men, providing an extra hand when needed, to keep the work going. To the men, his help was appreciated, but not looked for. They did in general feel that officers were not supposed to get their hands dirty, though midshipmen were not quite officers. Mr.. Forest was liked by the crew, so he was accepted.
While Mr.. Marsh strolled around the deck, seeing the stores loaded and ticking off the list, Martin verified the goods were stowed. The remainder of Mr.. Marsh’s kit was loaded to the astonishment of the crew, and for that matter of, Martin. The four trunks, plus the three cases of wine, and two large boxes of meats and vegetables, seemed sufficient for the entire gunroom to Martin. Marsh seemed to regard it as adequate only. His inquiry whether he could restock in Naples was met with disbelief by Martin.