by David O'Neil
Martin realized immediately that the xebec had oars as well as the sails and was probably carrying slaves.
“Bring her alongside, quickly now. Carpenter, get your chisels. There are slaves aboard. bosun, boarders away. Mr. Troop, see if you can grapple her bow to slow her sinking while we get the slaves out.”
The boarding party cleared out the remaining pirates. A succession of gunshots and cries ended hostilities swiftly and efficiently. The clank of the carpenter’s chisel being hammered through the link of the retaining chain announced the first of the stream of forty-two surviving slaves from the benches below deck. They were quickly taken on board the schooner while the bosun searched the ship as best he could.
Several boxes were sent over, followed by the bosun and his men loaded down with arms. With the bows held up the rest of the ship was filling with water and now she was level with the surface of the sea.
“Cast off, Mr. Troop. Cut her loose.”
The Perle straightened up rocking sharply from side to side as she was relieved of the weight of the xebec. As the two ships drifted apart the xebec wallowed deeper and deeper until, still almost level, her hull disappeared and the broken masts were left sinking slowly in isolation until they too finally sank beneath the waves.
Of the galley slaves there were 14 English, 4 Irish, 12 French, 3Nubian and 7 Scandinavian. The French were puzzled by the Tricolor at the masthead, and appeared afraid to say too much until they realized that it was a British ship which had rescued them. It seemed that they had been royalists in a yacht escaping from the terror. Taken two years ago, they had been held, and employed in Algiers, before being taken to man the benches of the xebec.
All of the rescued slaves were happy to be free. Alouette and her colleagues had questioned the French and were satisfied they were who they claimed to be. Three had volunteered to join the spies in their tasks and had been accepted. The others asked to be delivered to the other Bourbonnais in the community in Sicily when the ship returned. Meanwhile they cheerfully joined into the working of the ship with the others.
The journey continued as they followed the coastline.
The sound of gunfire ahead made Martin take a more cautious approach to the small port of St Maxine. The larger town of Nice, which they were passing now, would be a good place for the agents to gather information. It would be where they would travel once ashore. St Maxine was a commercial place, with trade in and out. The Perle would be just another coaster amongst the many.
As they approached it was possible to see the source of the gunfire. There were two ships firing on the harbor forts. The reply to the ships was badly aimed and plainly the guns were poorly served. One of the rescued slaves said, “Damn. They are from Algiers. They are slavers raiding.”
Without thinking, Martin gave orders for the guns to be cleared for action. “Port and starboard batteries, load and run out.” To Alouette, he said, “Prepare your party for landing. We will be back in ten days.”
She looked at him steady eyed. “Look after yourself, and I’ll see you then.”
“We will drop the boats as usual as we go into action. Your boat will break adrift. You look after yourself, and we will hopefully have an enjoyable passage back to Palermo once more.”
A touch of her hand and she was gone to prepare for leaving the ship. For Martin, he was already contemplating his action against the two slave ships.
The larger of the two had turned to engage the Perle as she approached the gun battle. The fire from the fort increased as the Perle came into view. The speed of the schooner and her ability to sail close to the wind gave her an advantage in normal circumstances, but the slaver had a bank of oars to be used if needed. This meant that she was more manoeuvrable than the average sailing ship. But the oars were only now coming out, and Martin was already swinging to bring the starboard guns to bear.
As the slaver frantically prepared to use her oars, the first broadside from the Perle crashed out. The guns, aimed low, smashed and splintered the side along the line of ports from which the oars were protruding.
The slaver swung wildly round to present her other side, where the oars were already in the water. But they made the situation worse for their captain. His control of the ship was lost to the uneven rowing of the two sides of the ship.
Coming about with the starboard guns reloading, the port guns were firing as the ship crossed ahead of the slaver, the balls sweeping the deck of the enemy, leaving bloody trails from bow to stern along the flush deck.
The ship was filling with water through the terrible wounds she had received in the first broadside, the screams of the chained slaves clearly heard across the blood-stained sea.
Martin sailed on to tackle the other ship, which had now ceased bombarding the fort and had now turned toward the battle with Perle. Seeing the schooner bearing down on her obviously decided the captain, who turned his ship and made off toward the south. Martin turned the schooner and followed the slaver south-ward until they were out of sight of the port. He then changed course to close the shores of Corsica where the first of the agents had been landed. They closed the shore at night and collected the agents from the rendezvous as arranged.
The reaction to the campaign by the British naval force on the island during the previous years was interesting. Despite the island being the birthplace of Napoleon, he was not held in reverence as he was in other parts of France. The fierce independence of the people was the ruling factor of life on the island, a rule that did not take that into account would be endlessly troubled by the disputes of the people. The habit of vendetta as a method of achieving justice would not be broken overnight. As long as it existed government would always be a precarious tiptoe through the warring families.
For Martin it was interesting to talk to the returning agents, who found nothing strange about discussing their findings on this type of fishing expedition.
They made their way back to St Maxine to collect Alouette and her party. They were met by one of the new recruits who had bad news. It seems that Alouette had been recognized by one of the visiting group of Deputies, passing en-Route to Nice. She had been placed in the local lock-up and expected to be sent to the guillotine in Nice in two days’ time. The other agents had gone to ground.
“Where is the prison? What sort of building is it?”
The agent thought for a moment, then spoke. “The prison is the old butcher’s shop on the corner of Rue de Lorraine. There is a barracks on the other corner.
“Mr. Brown, I will be going ashore with Jean Paul.” He indicated the Bourbonnais who had brought the news. “You will come inshore tonight to meet us. He indicated a position on the chart. If we are not here, come tomorrow at the same time. If I need more men I will send Jean Paul with a message to meet you. Bosun Carter and ten men ready to come ashore with cutlass and muskets. Is all that clear?”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”
“You will be in command. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. Indeed, sir.” The excitement of the Midshipman was almost painful to watch. Martin was busy arranging for the jollyboat to have the mast stepped and calling for Peters to crew for him,
The small boat sailed off, leaving the schooner sailing offshore out of sight of the town.
Their boat was one of many in the harbor. They pulled in with the oars and Jean Paul pointed out the corner building just behind the first row of buildings. There was a soldier leaning on the wall outside the door. Martin walked over, stuffing tobacco in a clay pipe. He stopped by the soldier. “M’sieu, you have a light perhaps?”
The soldier shrugged then reached into his tunic pocket, for a small tinder box.
“Perfect!” Martin said, “Sir, would you join me?” He held out his tobacco tin.
“Merci, M’sieu.” The soldier leaned his musket against the wall, and pulled out a stubby pipe and stuffed it with Martin’s tobacco.
“You have a prisoner?” Martin asked nodding at the musket.
; “Oui, M’sieu. A lady.”
“Dangereuse?”
“Non, non, she is a perfect lady. Sadly, she is an aristo’. She was recognized.” He shrugged.
“Pretty, is she?” Martin nudged the man in the ribs with a smile.
“Certainly, she is pretty; though not for us I think.”
“Can I see her? Just take a look, I mean.”
The soldier started to shake his head. Martin puffed his pipe and the smoke wafted past the soldier’s nose.
Martin said, “Ah, well.” He drew a bottle of Cognac from his pocket. “Perhaps a little taste to keep the tubes open. You will join me?”
The soldier looked at him as if he was daft, and reached for the bottle. He took a swig and his mood improved immediately. He took pity on his new friend. “Just a quick look,” he said.
“Indeed!” Martin said “I would not like to make any trouble for you.”
“I would not get any trouble. I am in charge here. Come” He looked around to see if anyone was watching and he took Martin to the door. The key looked as if it belonged to the Tower of London. It was a big clumsy lump of iron, though the lock turned easily.
“Round the door, she is in the barred area at the back. Quickly now.” He pushed Martin in and closed the door though he did not lock it.
Inside Martin looked around and located the cage at the end of the room. Alouette sat calmly on a chair in the cage. She said, “Have you come to gloat, M’sieu?”
“Why would I do that?” Martin asked.
“Martin, is that you?” She sounded worried.
“Just visiting, but I will be back soon. Can you hang on for that much longer?”
Her hand touched his through the bars, “I was not considering going anywhere.”
He bent and kissed her hand. “I’ll be back,” he said. “Expect me later this evening. He touched her cheek, turned and went back to the door. The soldier was outside the door looking anxious. He hastily locked the door.
Martin said, “She is indeed beautiful. What a waste! Thank you, my friend. I must go now but I may see you later. Perhaps we can finish the bottle then?”
“Good night, M’sieu. For the tobacco and the brandy, thanks.”
Martin left him at his lonely post, and returned to Peters and Jean Paul at the boat.
To Peters he said, “Take Jean Paul to the ship.” To Jean Paul, “I want the bosun and his men here tonight as soon as possible. I will be here. No muskets. Swords, clubs and pistols only!”
The next hours were lonely for Martin. In an alien place with the possibility of discovery at any moment, he remained in the vicinity waiting. He found a bar within view of the door of the prison and had a meal while he waited.
It was a relieved Jean Paul who appeared in the street later that night. Martin signalled him over to the ally he was standing in. “All ready?” he asked.
“The men are with the boat.”
“Good. Fetch them over. I will go see my friend, the guard.”
Jean Paul nodded and returned to the sea wall for the men. Martin took a sip of brandy and, slightly unsteadily, wandered over to the soldier on guard at the door to Alouette’s prison.
“See, my friend, I return. And the bottle is not yet empty.”
The soldier stirred and set his musket aside, while he rubbed his hands together to get rid of the stiffness. “I fear I am getting old,” he said. “I find standing around is becoming very tiring.”
“This will ease the pain a little.” Martin held up the bottle, passing it to the weary soldier,
He took it with a grateful sigh. As he raised it to his lips, Martin saw the familiar figure of bosun Carter ambling up the road.
“Perhaps I can have another look, just to take to bed with me. My wife has many qualities, but a beauty she is not.”
The soldier leered at him, “You think she may have undressed, heh?”
Martin shrugged, “Perhaps a little final fling, maybe?”
The soldier laughed, “Why not! I will look after the brandy while you see what you can do.” His sudden roar of laughter at this caused Martin to look around to see if anyone was taking an interest. Apart from Carter and three of the men, scattered along the road there was no one about at this time of night.
The soldier produced the key, “Be my guest, my friend. I think she may be a cold one, but with tomorrow nearly here, who knows?”
Martin entered the room and made his way to the cage. “Are you ready to travel?” He asked quietly.
“Nothing is broken as far as I know. There is just the cage door.”
Back at the front door the soldier was sitting senseless, the bottle still in his hand. Carter , club in hand, said “Everything alright sir?”
“Just a lock, bosun. Bring his bayonet. That should do it.”
He turned back to the cage as Carter entered with the bayonet, Studying the padlock briefly in the reflected light from the street flambeau that came through the small window. He inserted the blade of the bayonet and twisted it in the hasp. The blade broke but the hasp had sprung loose. The cage was opened.
Alouette came out and into Martin’s arms. “Thank you, my love. Now we must hurry, the magistrate will come soon with the priest.”
They locked the door and returned the bayonet to the soldier’s scabbard. They left him the brandy as consolation and returned to the sea wall and the longboat, which had brought Carter and the men.
As they rowed out of the harbor to the open sea once more, Martin released his pent up breath, realizing he had been holding it in. Beside him he felt Alouette shiver in the night air. Taking his boat cloak off he wrapped it round her, holding her close to keep her warm.
Alouette remained with him for two days after their arrival in Palermo. On the third day she was gone, off on another mission for her mysterious master.
Chapter fourteen
Inheritance and Wedding
Still in Palermo, for Martin the time passed slowly, awaiting the final repairs to HMS Racer. Her new Captain was newly promoted and full of enthusiasm, though he was not so happy to find that his ship required repair that could not be carried out in the local dockyard. The voyage would therefore be to dockyard in Portsmouth for two cracked keel ribs to be replaced. The working of these ribs would mean the pumps would be operating for most of the way. Nelson decreed that extra crew from the pool of recovered seamen currently in Palermo would be of more use in England and authorized spare hands to the Racer’s crew, to help with the work of the pumps.
Martin travelled as courier, seconded as aide to Admiral Nelson. He was carried as passenger for the voyage home. He had not realized how much time he would have on his hands. So, he volunteered to stand a watch for the journey home, an offer that was gracefully received. He was surprised to find he was much in demand at the Captain’s table and in the officer’s accommodation. He took great pleasure in coaching the midshipmen under the command of former Midshipman now junior Lieutenant Brown, who had regaled the gun-room with stories about the episodes under the command of Lieutenant Forest-Bowers, and of course the activities of the beautiful Alouette, whom he was proud to call friend.
James Martin Forest-Bowers stood braced on the deck of HMS Racer as she raced to enter the Falmouth roads to deliver the reports and documents from Sicily to London.
He pictured the post chaise racing along the road to London. The documents would be in the Admiralty by tomorrow, and the ship would be in Portsmouth by tomorrow evening.
Martin was troubled over his infidelity, but he was practical enough to know that at the same time the experience had probably assured a happy commencement to the married life which faced him on his return home.
The welcome at the Hall was as expected, the warm welcome from Jane with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and the restrained welcome from Jennifer impatient for the long arranged wedding to her hero husband-to-be.
At dinner that evening the Commodore, now Sir Charles Bowers, informed them that the wedding should ta
ke place as soon as possible. “Though we have this time at present, the war with France is still with us, and I see it lasting for a long time. Thus, all of us will be needed at sea.” He smiled at the delighted couple at the other side of the table then, turning to Jane, he asked “Did you speak to the Vicar?”
“I hope you don’t think me too forward?” She looked at the Martin, then Jennifer. “But realizing how patient you have both been, I spoke with the Vicar. He will call the final banns this Sunday. It will be possible for the wedding to be arranged for next week if that is agreeable?”
Martin looked at Jennifer, who was looking a little shocked. “So soon!” She said, “But my dress? I have no time….”
“We are going to London tomorrow.” Jane said. “Martin has an appointment to keep in Eynsham before joining us in London?” She looked at Martin enquiringly.
“Of course, I will need to open the house in Knightsbridge, and it would be an honor to entertain you all. I will send a note to the housekeeper to prepare for guests.”
Sir Charles smiled. “I have been taking advantage of your invitation to use the apartment at the house for the past few days. I warned the housekeeper that there would be guests for the next two weeks and she has prepared the house in anticipation. I do hope you don’t mind, Martin?”
“So we should have time for everything to be done in time.” Jane said. “The invitations have been out for over a week and I expect there will be a gathering who will understand the need for haste when a naval officer marries.” She hesitated. I shall miss you both. Jennifer for her company here, and Martin because we have only just got you back. It is sure that you will not be allowed to stay here on land for long.”
After the discussion of the night before, there was little Martin could contribute to the wedding arrangements so he made his way north in the Post coach via Winchester and Newbury. Having spent the night at Abingdon, he hired a horse to ride the remaining few miles to Eynsham. No-one recognized him as he crossed the Thames on the ferry at Swinford. When he walked into the Talbot Inn, though he recognized the landlord, it was not until he made himself known that the landlord remembered him and his father.