Harry Heron: Midshipman's Journey

by Patrick G Cox

  His leather mail pouch nestled beneath the oilskin coat, safe and dry, its contents no doubt filled with joy for some, despair or anguish for others and orders for the garrison. He cared not which for who; his only concern was that he deliver all intact and to the correct addressee. It was not dangerous work, but it did require some diligence, and it meant he had to ride out in all weather, which was sometimes hard enough and deadly to the unwary.

  A typical son of Ireland, the horseman knew almost all those he encountered on the road and greeted them cheerfully despite the weather. He also knew the majority of those for whom he carried mail, and thus he recognised the handwriting on several of the letters he carried for the house below Scrabo as that of the youngest son of the house, serving at sea on one of the great wooden walls, as the ships were called. Two other letters he did not recognise, although one carried the seal of the Admiralty, and he supposed it to be some formal order from their lordships in distant London. Being himself from Dundonald, he knew the family whose yard he now entered, and he greeted the stable boy.

  “Good day to you, Liam, and my greetings to your father. I have letters from young Master Harry today, so perhaps there is news of Ferghal also.” Dismounting, he gave the reins to the lad. “I’ll away to Mrs Ferson. Don’t make him too comfortable in the barn; he’ll not want to be away again otherwise.” With a hearty laugh he stamped across the yard to the kitchen porch.

  “Mister Corrigan,” exclaimed the housekeeper warmly. “To be sure, you’re a welcome sight, but on such a damp day as this, it must be important mail that brings you out to us.” She bustled about to hang his dripping coat on a hook near the fireplace and then to pour him a mug of beer from the cask she kept in the kitchen for that purpose.

  “Aye, it is a packet of letters from Mister Harry, and some more from London for the Major,” he told her as he carefully opened the pouch and drew out the packets with their seals and ribbons, placing them on the table. Just then, the door from the house side opened and a tall and well-built young man in his early twenties entered, greeting the mail rider with a warm smile.

  “Well, Seamus,” he said. “I see Mrs Ferson is taking care of your refreshment. What news do you bring us today?”

  “Thank you, Master James.” He handed the letters to the youngest son of the house. “These came on the mail packet yesterday—some from Master Harry, some from London. I know not from whom, but yon one is from the Admiralty by the looks of yon.”

  Accepting them, the young man smiled. “Thank you. I wonder what scrapes my brother has to recount to us this time. His last missive from the Great South Sea was full of storms, fantastical beasts and marine marvels.” He laughed at the memory of reading those exciting letters. “I will take these to my father. Thank you for bringing them out so swiftly.

  James hurried to his father’s office, a cluttered room where the small estate’s records and accounts were kept in shelves and chests, the overstuffed drawers on the great desk filled with the Major’s correspondence. Word of the mail had already reached his mother and sister, and they came bustling into the room as he entered it to present the packets to his father.

  The Major accepted these with a smile and handed the packet of Harry’s handwritten letters to his wife. “Susan, my dearest, take you Harry’s latest, and I shall await the pleasure while I deal with these official looking missives, the one of which I see is from Captain Blackwood.” He fished around on the desk for the letter knife he kept there, and swiftly lifted the seal to open the letter.

  His wife was still exclaiming and enjoying the contents of the first of Harry’s letters while their daughter, Mabel, exclaimed over the enclosed carefully executed sketches and ink wash drawings Harry had sent her when Major James Nelson-Heron carefully folded Captain Blackwood’s letter and without a word passed it to his eldest son.

  For a moment longer, he stared into the fire burning cheerfully in the grate.

  “My dearest wife . . . .”

  He paused to clear his throat, choked with suppressed emotion. “The letter from Captain Blackwood brings dire news. Harry has been killed in an action with the French somewhere near Mauritius. They were on their way home.” He paused as his wife gasped, and the letters she’d been reading fluttered to the floor.

  “There is much more in his letter, but our son, our beloved Harry, is gone, and so too is Ferghal.” His voice broke, and he paused to collect himself.

  “But he cannot be!” Susan cried out in anguish. She looked at her husband with desperation in her eyes, the color draining from her face as the import of his words sank in, and she knew there was nothing either of them could do.

  MAJOR JAMES NELSON-HERON TOILED UP THE SLOPE of Scrabo. Reaching the rocky summit, he seated himself facing the length of Strangford Lough and reached for his pipe and tobacco pouch. His visit to London and Portsmouth had been frustrating, dispiriting in many ways, and left him with many more questions than answers.

  Concentrating on lighting his pipe, he blew a cloud of smoke and watched it dissipate. Captain Blackwood had been sympathetic, even summoning some of the men who’d witnessed Harry’s disappearance. The gun Captain—Wright—had been most interesting.

  “Sort o’ loik lightnin’, sor. Big flash it were,” he’d said. “Saw t’ gun, an’ Mr Her’n wi’ Fergie an’ t’ powder monkey loik ghosts they were, an’ when t’ flash faded there were this big fing in their place.”

  He’d asked for clarification of the description “like ghosts” and been told, “Yer could see ’em, sor, but also through ’em. Then they was gone.”

  It was a puzzle. All the evidence suggested the boys must be dead. He’d even talked to a few Indiamen Captains to discover whether the boys might have washed ashore on an island had they simply fallen overboard.

  Watching a schooner shaping her course toward the narrow entrance of the Lough, he drew on his pipe. His instinct said there was something else in play here, that Harry was not dead. But, if he lived, where was he?

  He turned at the sound of boots on the gravelly soil. “Hello, Sean. What brings you?”

  Sean O’Connor touched his hat in an unconscious salute. “A little time t’ think, Major. An’ t’ remember.”

  “Sit ye down, Sean.” Waiting until his groom was seated, the Major passed his tobacco pouch. “I don’t believe the boys are dead. They’re alive, I know it, but the devil is in it. I don’t know where they could be.”

  Filling his pipe, Sean O’Connor nodded. “Ye told me afore o’ the family dream, sir. How would ye know if it meant death or something else?”

  Despite himself, the major smiled. “It’s the horse, d’ye see? If it runs free, it means danger. If it rears and runs, it means someone’s life is at stake.” He puffed his pipe. “It is never wrong.” Hesitating he frowned at the view. “These last months, I have dreamed of the horse so often I could shoe him, yet he neither runs nor rears—simply walks beside a chasm as if searching. I believe the chasm represents something that separates us from the boys, perhaps forever.”

  Sean frowned, blowing a cloud of smoke. “Then, for us, they be as good as dead, sir.”

  “Perhaps, Sean, perhaps, but they are not dead, of that I am convinced. Nor are they in danger where they are.” Knocking out his pipe, he carefully stowed it away. “And for that we must be grateful.”

  Sean O’Connor nodded. “As ye say, sir.” Pausing, he played with his pipe for a moment. “What o’ the memorial Mrs Heron wanted, sir?”

  “I’ve little choice, Sean. Though I am convinced Harry lives, Susan—Mrs Heron—wants him remembered.” Smiling, he added, “So I’ve ordered a memorial tablet in brass, and the Reverend Mr Paisley has agreed to its placement.” His laugh was brief. “It carries Ferghal’s name as well.”

  Sean stared in surprise. “And the Reverend agreed to it?”

  The major’s face took on an expression his troops had once dreaded. “I gave him no choice, Sean. He had the sense to kn
ow it.”

  Sean O’Connor smiled and stood. “Thank ye, Major. We appreciate it.” Preparing to leave, he added, “My Mary believes as you do, sir, that the boys be alive. She has the sight ye see, an’ she’s ne’er wrong.”

  The Major considered Sean’s words. “I know, she was present at Harry’s birth, you recall, and she saw a future for him then.” He nodded. “Aye, she’d know. They live, Sean. They live—where, I cannot say, but they live, and they will come home, though I doubt in our lifetime.”

  Nineteenth Century Sailing Terms

  Parts of a Ship

  Head: The bow or the “sharp” end—also: heads are the toilets for the crew, mounted on either side of the beakhead (the decorated prow and extension of the stem), which is essentially a bench seat or bar on which to sit while relieving oneself directly into the sea. On larger ships, those were enclosed but still communal; on small ships, the heads were protected by a screen to stop you being swept overside in bad weather.

  Forecastle: Usually rendered as fo’c’s’le (pronounced as folksill), the forecastle was a raised deck at the bow on which could be mounted the bowchasers or carronades. The anchors were stowed on either side lashed to the catheads, and the sickbay was usually located beneath it. On large ships, the fo’c’s’le was connected to the quarterdeck by the gangways running along either side and providing a shelter for the upper tier of guns.

  Catheads: a projecting beam at the bows fitted with a pulley and to which the anchors were “catted” (lashed, referring to the lashes of a cat o’ nine tails whip) when not required. The anchor would be hauled up to this, the cable detached and the anchor stock (the large cross piece at right angles to the flukes) secured to the cathead while the flukes were hauled aft and lashed to the forechains (the anchor point for the foremast rigging usually situated at the after end of the fo’c’s’le).

  Beam: the broadest part of a ship or its overall width; on the beam, something to one or the other side of the ship, as in “the enemy is abeam.”

  Beam ends: a ship in deep trouble; essentially a ship on her beam ends has capsized and will sink.

  Stern: the back of the ship.

  Quarter/Bow/Beam: For reporting purposes, the ship has six sections so that if another ship or obstacle is ahead but not directly ahead, it is reported as being on the larboard or starboard bow. Likewise, if it is astern, it is on the larboard or starboard quarter. This is also the case with objects on either beam; in other words, at ninety degrees to the ship’s course.

  Larboard: the left side of the ship; also called the port side.

  Starboard: the right side of the ship, so called because the earliest ships were steered by shipping an oar over this side.

  Gun deck: the continuous decks, upper and lower, stretching fore and aft on which the guns were carried.

  Quarterdeck: the command deck of the ship. Beneath this were the officers’ quarters in the wardroom at the aftermost end of the upper gun deck in a two decker, with the Captain’s great cabin at the aftermost end of the quarterdeck. Smaller cannon were also mounted along the sides of the quarterdeck; in British ships, these were frequently carronades, vicious short-range weapons that fired a large ball often hollow and filled with shrapnel.

  Poop deck: the deck over the Captain’s quarters and the highest deck in the ship.

  Break of the poop: the access to the Captain’s quarters, the sailing master’s cabin and the chartroom; also the position from which the ship is steered. The poop deck provided some shelter from the weather and also from enemy fire for the helmsmen.

  Gangways: the extensions along the upper gunwales (literally gun walls) providing cover for the upper tier of guns and their crews, but also access to the forecastle (fo’c’s’le) from the quarterdeck and to the boat tiers where the larger boats were carried between the foremast and the mainmast.

  Gunroom: The space allotted to the midshipmen and senior warrant officers in a large ship. It takes its name from the practice of keeping small arms in a protected space below decks. Larger trucked guns were also stored here at times. Usually located at the aftermost end of the lower gun deck or on the orlop deck below that; frequently used as an operating theatre during a battle.

  Mess: Traditionally each seaman was assigned a station on the watch and quarter bill and a place in a “mess” according to his function and experience. Each mess was quite literally a table suspended over a gun on the lowest gun deck in bigger ships or below the main deck in smaller ones. Benches placed on either side provided a space for the men, a gun crew and its supporters such as powder monkeys to sit while eating or enjoying a “stand easy.” Each man was also allocated a space to sling his hammock measuring eighteen inches in width and six feet in length. A “ditty box” was used to stow spare clothes (if you had any) and any items of value that you owned.

  Keel: the long spine of the ship to which all the frames are attached. In a sailing ship, this usually protrudes below the hull; it also helps the ship grip the water and prevents her travelling sideways when the wind forces are abeam. This sideways pressure causes the ship to move forward between the opposing forces of wind and water.

  Keelson: A long timber section laid on top of the keel, sometimes above the frames jointed to the keel and to which the mast steps are attached to receive the base of the masts.

  Masts

  Foremast, Mainmast and Mizzenmast: with a lower, topmast and topgallant, and sometimes a royal mast above, identified as the fore/main/mizzen topmast/topgallant mast, and so on.

  Crosstrees: At the junction between the topmast section and the topgallant mast, a small platform was provided as a perch for the lookouts, but it also provided a springing point for the shrouds and ratlines to the topgallant mast. Where a royal mast was carried, a further set of crosstrees appeared at the junction between the topgallant and the royal.

  Fighting top: a platform at the junction between the lower masts and the topmasts; these had a wooden parapet in the larger ships, which allowed the Marines to man them and use them as a fighting platform for sharp shooters, and to mount swivel guns firing grape shot (think of a shotgun firing twenty musket balls at a time).

  Bowsprit: the long extension from the stem, which provided a fixing point for the headsails and carried the fore and aft stays to stabilise the masts; usually comprised of two parts, a heavy member fixed to the stem and a second lighter portion “fished” to the main part. Beneath this, a “dolphin striker” extended downward to provide the leverage on the rigging to hold it in place against the upward forces of the sails and the drag on the masts as the ship turned through the wind.

  Rigging

  Shrouds: the great side stays that hold the masts up.

  Ratlines: the rope ladders used to climb the masts and reach the sails and tops.

  Futtock shrouds: short extensions to the ratlines that angle outward from the main body of the ratlines and allow the sail handlers to scramble round the tops as they reach them and continue their climb. The futtocks were generally used only by the experienced hands; less confident souls found their way upward by climbing through the “lubbers hole” in the top itself so they could reach the next set of ratlines without the outward scramble.

  Stays: the fore and aft supports for the masts

  Braces: the lines that haul the yardarms around to trim the sails to the wind; also the name given to a stay that runs from the bowsprit to the foremast, then to the mainmast and finally to the mizzen before being secured to the transom or sternpost. This brace supports the masts against pressure on the sails from dead ahead, and without it, the ship could be dismasted in certain conditions, hence the expression “to splice the main brace”—something only a man not in full command of his wits would do!

  Halyards: the lines used to hoist and lower sails and the yardarms to which they are attached.

  Truck: the uppermost section of a mast, also a small platform at the very top of a mast, or a small yard above the royal yard
; essentially, the highest place in any ship.

  Jury rig: temporary rigging created in order to replace broken or damaged rigging.

  Sails

  Staysails: fore and aft sails set between the masts on the stays that run fore and aft.

  Foresails and jibs: triangular sails set on the foremasts’ stays running forward onto the jib boom and bowsprit.

  Spanker: the large fore and aft sail set on the mizzenmast and steadied by a gaff above and a boom below.

  Stunsails: extra sails rigged to extensions from the ends of the yardarms and extending the courses, topsails and topgallants, often doubling the area of the principal sail.

  Stormsails: very small sails, typically triangular, of thick canvas rigged to replace the normal sail carried in smaller craft. These were often “jury” rigged using other canvas such as a firesail carried on the gaff booms instead of a mainsail.

  Courses: the lowest of the square sails set on each mast.

  Topsails: the sails set above the courses.

  Topgallants: the sails above the topsails.

  Royals: the uppermost sails on the mast.

  Boats

  Quarterboat: a boat kept on davits at the stern, often suspended outboard near the mizzen shrouds and ratlines for use in an emergency at sea.

  Launch: a large rowing boat usually propelled by eight or more oars and capable of carrying a large number of people or goods. Sometimes they could mount a cannon on the bow (on big ones, often as much as a six pounder), and even the smaller ones could carry a swivel gun in this position. They could be sailed, and they carried a mast that had a dipping lug rig or a gaff cutter rig. Usually stowed inboard on the boat tiers between the fore and main masts.

  Barge: the largest boat carried by the ship; carried on the boat tier.