The Special Operations Flotilla: The Dorset Boy Book 2

by Christopher C Tubbs

  Marty looked at him closely and could see the signs of scarring around the eyebrows that a fist fighter would get.

  “Mr Thompson” Wickham continued “has had to leave his ship after being caught with the Captain’s daughter in the cockpit” Marty could see Wickham was suppressing a smile. “Captain Lombard has agreed to leave it to me to see that Mr Thompson is sufficiently punished” added Hood “and I thought a couple of years with you and Armand would be sufficient.”

  “Mr Thompson also speaks fluent Italian” continued Wickham looking slight annoyed at the interruption “and has a working knowledge of Spanish.”

  “We can probably teach them everything else they will need to know” Marty concluded. “Have they been sworn to secrecy?”

  “Yes they have” Wickham said.

  “Do we have any special operations to perform in the near future?” Marty asked and both Mids looked surprised at him speaking so.

  “We have one that we are considering for the new year, but it will depend on what Napoleon does once he gets back from Egypt” Wickham said.

  “In the meantime you have time to get your new crews into order and disrupt the flow of goods from the America’s to the French” Hood concluded. “Keep those pirates of yours under control, especially the Deal fellows. They have been flooding the market with quality brandy and wine and the excise are up in arms over their protection.”

  Marty frowned in thought and then said “what if we were to pay an ‘import tax’ would that make them happier?”

  “Might ease the situation a bit but it’s the basic principle of allowing the smuggling to go on in the first place that has their noses out of joint” Wickham said.

  The meeting broke up at that point and Marty walked out of the Admiralty with the two Mids in tow. He ordered them to meet him outside of Caroline’s house at 06:00 the next morning with their sea chests as they would journey

  with him to The Farm.

  When he told Caroline he would be leaving in the morning she wasn’t surprised and told him he could use one of her coaches. She said that she would visit him as soon as she could get away but as Christmas was looming there was a lot she needed to organize both in London and at her estate. That night neither got a lot of sleep.

  The next morning at six o’clock saw him and Blaez in the hallway watching as his sea chest was taken by a pair of servants out the front door. Caroline was in a silk dressing gown, and he knew not a lot else, looking sleepy but determined to see him off. She held him close, kissed him thoroughly and made him promise to be careful. Blaez pushed his nose between them and whined getting all jealous. She stood back and let him jump up for a cuddle and a scratch around his neck and told him sternly “You look after Marty now, he is your responsibility” Blaez rolled his eyes and then licked her from the base of her throat to he chin. “I’ll take that as a yes” she giggled.

  “I have to go” Marty said. Caroline took his arm and led him to the door and opened it. The morning air was freezing and she hugged him one more time and kissed him before saying “I’m going back to bed”. She looked towards the coach and saw the two Mids standing there with their mouths open. She gave them a wicked grin then kissed Marty on the nose and ducked inside. It was as she was retreating that Marty noticed that the dressing gown did nothing to hide her figure. Damn he was a lucky man.

  “What you two gawping at” he snarled “Get yerselves loaded and be quick about it” He got in last and Blaez curled up on the seat next to him giving the Mids a ‘I dare you to say anything’ look. He looked up to the window of Caroline’s bedroom and saw her looking down at him. He smiled and touched his hat to her “Move out coachman!” he called and they were on their way.

  Epilog

  After Marty and the two Mids had left the office, Hood and Wickham took a comfortable chair each beside the large fire.

  “The boy is coming on well” Wickham commented sipping a cup of coffee.

  “Yes, flew through his exam and was the best of the bunch” replied Hood.

  “Did you plant Cockburn on the board?” asked Wickham

  “No. Lucky coincidence. I planted Pellew” Hood laughed.

  Wickham chuckled at that.

  “Mind you starting out with a merchantman and coming home with a Corvette didn’t hurt his prospects” Hood stated.

  They sat drinking their coffee for a few minutes in silence.

  “Do you think he will be ready for a tougher mission in the new year?” he asked.

  “Linette says he is the best she has worked with. Creative, ruthless and deadly. He killed a secret policeman and the poor fellow didn’t even realised he had been stabbed until he died. Yes I think he can handle one, even Paris” Wickham answered. “What about the two new boys?”

  “Armand and Martin will make them or break them. They have the potential but we will have to see if they shape up to what we want” Hood answered.

  “If they fail they will have to ‘disappear’ ” Wickham said.

  “If they fail they will be dead anyway” Hood responded. “fancy a Brandy in that?”

  THANK YOU FOR READING!

  I hope you enjoyed reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. Reviews are so helpful to authors. I really appreciate all reviews, both positive and negative. If you want to leave one, you can do so here.

  About the Author

  Christopher C Tubbs is a descendent of a long line of Dorset clay miners and has chased his family tree back to the 16th century in the Isle of Purbeck. He has been a public speaker at conferences for most of his career in the Aerospace and Automotive industries and was one of the founders of a successful games company back in the 1990’s. Now in his fifties he finally got around to writing the story he had been dreaming about for years. Thanks to Inspiration from the great sea authors like Alexander Kent, Dewey Lambdin, Patrick O’Brian and Dudley Pope he was finally able to put digit to keyboard.

  You can visit him on his website here

  On his Facebook page here

  Or tweet him @ChristopherCTu3

  Coming next The Dorset Boy book 3 – Agent Provacateur

  Chapter 1 Reading In

  Newly commissioned Lieutenant Martin Stockley stood in front of a long mirror in his room at the headquarters of the Special Operations Flotilla or The Farm as they called it and admired the fit of the new Uniform that had just arrived from his tailor in London. He was trying to decide whether to wear his silver buckled shoes or hessian boots when there was a knock on the door.

  “Come in” he called

  Will Barbour their steward entered and said

  “Oh Sir you do look proper good. Suits you to a tee. Mr Armand said if you could hurry up as they is all waiting on yer”

  Shoes it is then Marty concluded and pulled on one of his three new pairs. The men had asked if they could celebrate his promotion with a dinner and ‘a few wets’ which meant they were in for a wild time this evening. Sailors seldom did just ‘a few wets’ and had a prodigious capacity for alcohol, and given that their partners in crime, the Deal smugglers, were ready to supply the best Brandy and wines to them for free, as their leader and his lieutenants had been invited as well, meant that the evening would be long, merry and test the stamina of the strongest.

  Marty entered the large dining room to a roar of cheers. He made a show of acknowledging the cheers and then struck a pose. He waited until they quieted.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you” he said to the left centre and right in turn as he looked around the room registering the faces. “I understand that Monsieur Du Dumaine has taken over the kitchens for this celebration so I am sure we will all eat well!”

  Another cheer!

  This would not go down well at the Admiralty! He thought and he was right the Admiralty would have a very dim view of the familiarity between the men and officers. But this was the S.O.F. and things worked differently here.

  Let them enjoy themselves he thought I will break the bad news about the
next mission later.

  The next morning despite hangovers they ordered the Lark and Alouette to be prepared for a six week voyage. They would go hunting ships supplying goods to the French in spite of any agreements their governments may have with the British. Marty left to go to the dock to check on progress and to read himself in as the Lark’s official commander. He was dressed in his best uniform and hat and wore the dress sword that the love of his life, Lady Caroline Candor, had given him. It was ironic he thought that his cutter and the sloop moored next to her shared the same name in two languages.

  It was a fine morning although very cold and he enjoyed the short walk from The Farm to the dock on the river Stour where their three craft were based. He soon warmed up and his breath steamed. Blaez, his young Dutch Shepherd dog, trotted along with him checking out the verges for any trace of either intruding dogs or receptive bitches and marking his territory at regular intervals.

  He arrived at the dock to find it a hive of activity. Wagons were lined up ready to unload food and other dry stores into nets which were hoisted up and swung aboard and down into the hold. This was faster and needed less men than forming a chain gang. Water barrels were being loaded into empty wagons to be filled from a spring a short ride away as the river water was brackish this close to the sea.

  He didn’t notice the elegant coach tucked away behind one of the storage sheds.

  He walked up the gang plank on to the deck of the Navy Cutter that was his first command as a Lieutenant. She was a little beauty with her long elegant bowsprit, which was almost half as long as her hull, and single mast. She was normally gaff rigged with multiple fore sails that gave her fantastic manoeuvrability, but could carry a couple of square sails if she needed to swim downwind as well.

  She was armed with ten 24 pound Carronades which gave her a close in punch that was far heavier than anyone would expect and when she was fought in consort with the Alouette they could give a nasty surprise to anyone who took them on. The advantage of the Carronades was that they only needed four men each to man them or three in a pinch.

  The men smiled at him as he made his way aft to the wheel and Blaez greeted many of them with a headbutt and a lick. When he got to Tom he reared up on his hind legs and planted them on his chest, looked him straight in the eye and then licked him from the base of his neck to the tip of his chin. Marty laughed at that and from the soppy look on Tom’s face.

  He beckoned Midshipman Campbell over and asked him to call the men to assemble on the main deck and when they had stopped whatever they were doing he took out his commission and started to read.

  “By the Commissioners for executing the Office of the Lord High Admiral of Great Britain &c and of all His Majesty's Plantations &c.

  To Lieut. Martin Alfred Stockley hereby appointed Master and Commander of His Majesty's Ship Snipe.

  By virtue of the Power and Authority to us given We do hereby constitute and appoint you Master and Commander of His Majesties Ship Snipe willing and requiring you forthwith to go on board and take upon you the Charge and Command of Master and Commander in her accordingly. Strictly Charging and Commanding all the Officers and Company belonging to the said ship subordinate to you to behave themselves jointly and severally in their respective Employments with all the Respect and Obedience unto you their said Master and Commander; And you likewise to observe and execute as well the General printed Instructions as what Orders and Directions you shall from time to time receive from your superior Officers for His Majesty's service. Hereof nor you nor any of you may fail as you will answer the contrary at your peril. And for so doing this shall be your Warrant. Given under our hands and the Seal of the Office Admiralty this 20th day of September in the one thousandth seven hundredth and ninety eighth Year of His Majesty's Reign.

  By Command of their Lordships”

  He reached the end and looked up. He was faced with a sea of smiling but expectant faces. Oh shit they want me to make a speech! He thought in panic. His brain went into fast mode like he was in combat.

  “Looking around all your faces” he swept his gaze over the faces of the men and stopped in astonishment. There dressed as a common sailor was Caroline?

  He coughed to cover the gap.

  “I see many who have sailed and fought with me in the past and some new faces.”

  He pointedly didn’t look at Caroline.

  “Well you old hands can tell the new hands what to expect. But one thing I will tell all of you is that you can all expect to continue doing the jobs that no one else wants to do in ways no one else will do. We are the S.O.F. We will bring pain and confusion to the French and anyone who sides with them. And if we are lucky make a few bob for ourselves.”

  He raised his hat to the men and stepped back signifying he had finished.

  The deck erupted in cheers when someone who sounded very much like John Smith called “Three Cheers and a Tiger for the skipper!”

  Marty waited until the cheers died down and then said “Right, now get back to work you idle lubbers. There is no excuse to be shirking!”

  To Tom he said

  “And I want to see the sailor with the auburn hair and green eyes in my cabin as soon as you can find her”

  There was no marine on duty outside his cabin yet as everyone was busy with the provisioning so there was no announcement. The door opened and in walked Caroline dressed in sailors slops and with her hair hidden under a woollen hat.

  “The hat’s not right. No Navy man would wear one of those”. He said

  “I’ll have to remember that when I stow away next time” She said and pulled it off allowing her lustrous wavy hair to tumble over her shoulders.

  “I didn’t want to miss you reading yourself in. You were very commanding”

  “Who gave you the slops?” he asked.

  “If I told you I would have to kill you” she said and moved in closer.

  “I see. I will have to torture you for the information” he laughed.

  “Ooh I can’t wait” she purred and moved in for a kiss

  “Well my little kitten” he said and kissed her on the nose “you will have to as we can’t be making that kind of noise here as the whole crew would be able to hear”

  “You could always gag me” she teased

  Marty turned her around and gave her a whack on the backside as he pushed her towards the door.

  “Get thee behind me devil woman” He growled as the thought tempted him.

  “That sounds interesting” she replied giving him her best sultry look over her shoulder.

  “I’ll see you in a couple of hours at the farm” I have a ship to get ready he said firmly and pushed her out the door.

  “Don’t forget the gag!” she called as she left.

  Tom came in almost immediately after with Midshipman Campbell.

  “Gag?” he said with raised eyebrows and a twinkle in his eye

  “Don’t ask” said Marty and sat down at his desk. Then he looked at Campbell and said “And you can wipe that smirk off your face if you don’t want to spend the next week scrubbing the bilges”

  Campbell managed, to his credit, to put on a straight face.

  “You have something to report?” Marty asked him

  “Oh yes, I mean Aye aye sir” he stammered

  “Mr Campbell if I have to wring every report out of you this is going to be a very long voyage for both of us” Marty cautioned.

  “Aye aye. Sir! I wish to report that we will be finished loading food in the next hour and water by sunset.”

  Marty looked at Tom who was leant against the door frame and raised an eyebrow in query. Tom gave a slight nod. Marty gave his attention back to Campbell.

  “We will sail tomorrow morning on the ebb tide. Let the men have a last evening in town. I want them all back on board by midnight. Anyone who isn’t will be docked a week’s pay and a week’s rum ration. Make sure they know it”

  “Aye Sir”

  There was a muffled cheer from outside
. “They probably know already but we need to maintain some kind of chain of command” He concluded. “Now do you have all the store reports?”

  “Yes sir” Campbell replied and handed over a sheaf of papers which he pulled from his pocket.

  Marty sighed as he saw that he would spend the next couple of hours doing the bookwork. The problem with cutters is they don’t warrant a purser he thought.