Phillips glanced out at the convoy and then up at his sails. The wind was light at the time, out of the WNW and the convoy was on the port tack. With no immediate concerns at hand he thought he might as well get the problem taken care of.
Telling Gould he was about to hold captain’s mast, and all customers should be presented, he went below to put on his good coat and hat. The gold buttons and lace flashing in the sun, he went back up on deck. The men off watch had been summoned up from below, and a party of men were securing a hatch cover upright to the mizzen. The Marine sergeant with a pair of men led the prisoner up to their captain, crashing to a halt, with Sergeant Wolfe reporting, “Prisn’er and escort present and correct, Sir!”
Phillips noted Landsman Willis had lost his sneer. He seemed almost concerned about his situation. The captain suspected some of his mates had been telling him stories of the punishments that could be imposed upon him.
Captain Phillips started, “Mister Otis, would you please tell us of the charges placed against Landsman Willis?”
Willis stood, clad in the best uniform available in the gunroom, reciting the misdeeds of the culprit.
Phillips, noting the absence of one report wondered. “Mister Otis, it was mentioned to me that you were an object of comparison. I heard that Landsman Otis compared you to a boil on my ass. Could this be true?”
His face red, the lad stammered he could not possibly say that to his captain.
“Very well, Mister Otis. We will drop that for now. It well might prove embarrassing to have that entered in the log. Let us move on. Have we any witnesses to our Landsman’s musings? Bosun’s Mate Anderson, perhaps?”
“Sir”, uttered Anderson, “I don’t rightly know what that word is you said.”
“Well, what did you see or hear that may concern us, today?”
Anderson spoke up then, informing all of Willis’ refusal to coil down the halyard as ordered and a litany of other offenses, including the reference to the captain’s boil.
When Anderson finished, Phillips ruled he would not consider Willis’ ‘boil’ statement in his ruling since it had not been mentioned in the charges. However, he cautioned, charges could still be preferred and the matter could be brought up at another time.
Now Phillips asked if anyone had anything to say for the man. This was normally the time when a supervisor would ask leniency for the defendant, giving some type of explanation for his action.
At first nobody stepped forward. Finally Midshipman Otis stepped forward as the silence mounted. “Sir”, the mid uttered, “Landsman Willis always rolls his hammock in a seamanlike manner!”
There were several muffle guffaws at that, and a smirk from Willis. Phillips looked grave and announced this had no bearing on the case. Turning to Willis, he asked, “Landsman Willis, have you anything to say for yourself?” There was silence while Willis shuffled his feet, started to open his mouth, then remained silent. Captain Phillips let the silence mount for a few minutes the stated, “Sentenced to twelve lashes and forfeiture of all grog and tobacco for the next week. Doctor, do your duty!”
It was necessary for the ship’s surgeon to declare the prisoner fit to stand for his punishment, but there was a problem. All the other ships officers and warrants were present, but Doctor Baynes was not among them.
Phillips realized that Baynes had still not become aware of all the ship’s customs and rules and was willing to accommodate the man as much as possible. Further, his patient had kept him up most every night since the beginning of the voyage. Now however, Lord Forsythe was beginning to get his sea legs, and the nightly sickness had almost vanished, allowing Baynes to finally get some rest.
Regardless, his presence was required on the quarterdeck, and Otis was ordered to go below and fetch the good doctor immediately.
The hands stood there, chewing their quids and murmuring as the wait became longer. Finally Baynes appeared with the harried mid almost pushing the doctor up the ladder.
The doctor was outraged when he learned the reason for his summons. He stated, at Phillip’s question, “Yes, I heard the call, but as a doctor I am not at the beck and call of any jumped-up sailor. Further, these proceedings have nothing to do with me.”
With that, the doctor turned his back and began going down the ladder to the wardroom. Phillips goggled at this effrontery then turned to the Marine officer standing near him.
“Mister Watkins, you will favor me by having Baynes brought back up. You may wish to have a few of your Marines assist you.”
With a shout to Sergeant Wolfe who was standing close by, Lieutenant Watkins repeated the captain’s orders. A file of Royal Marines rushed below, and soon re-appeared, with the doctor’s elbows firmly grasped by a pair of burly Marines.
Phillips almost laughed at the enraged, red-faced doctor, but held himself in check. Now was not the time to further inflame passions.
Phillips addressed Baynes, still in the firm grasp of the Marines. “Doctor Baynes, I will not require you to tell me what you meant by the remark you mentioned about ‘jumped-up’ sailors. I do hope you were not referring to me. As it happens, you do have a place in these proceedings. Namely, you are required, as ship’s doctor, to pass judgment on Landsman Willis’ health. We must know whether his health at this moment is such to withstand a dozen lashes of the cat o’ nine tails.”
The still furious Baynes lashed out himself. “You forced me up for this, you nincompoop? I’ll have you know I will bring charges against you when I next see a magistrate. I am Lord Forsythe’s physician. I have nothing to do with your shipboard brutality.”
Captain Phillips considered. “Doctor, you seem to still have the wrong impression of your standing aboard. At the moment, you are not an imposing Harley Street physician. Instead, when you accepted the warrant the Sick and Hurt Board gave you before you came on the ship, you became a warrant officer of the Royal Navy, subject to the orders of all officers senior to you. Yes, you are Lord Forsythe’s physician, but you are also physician to every member of this ship’s crew.”
“One of your duties is to examine defaulters before they come up for punishment. Should you refuse, you may be charged with mutiny.”
Baynes sneered at the captain. “And what are you going to do to me if I refuse? Whip me also? I tell you, I am a gentleman and must not be threatened in this manner.”
Phillips sighed. “Yes Doctor, you are a gentleman and holder of a Navy Warrant. You will not be triced up and lashed. However, I am charging you with mutiny at this time. You will be taken below, where you will remain confined in your cabin until such time as I can turn you over to higher authority. You will stand trial at court martial and suffer whatever sentence that may be imposed upon you. You may well hang, Doctor Baynes.”
As the Marines began to hustle the doctor below, Lord Forsythe, who had been a silent witness to the events, spoke up. “Captain Phillips, I wonder if I may have a few words with the doctor?”
“You may indeed Milord. However, time is fleeting, and we have another matter to dispense with.”
Phillips called his ship’s officers as well as the sailing master over and ordered them to individually examine Landsman Willis and express their opinions on his ability to stand punishment, because of the refusal of the ship’s doctor.
All officers stated after a brief glance at the prisoner they could see no reason that Willis could not withstand punishment.
Phillips addressed the bosun. “Very well, do your duty!”
The prisoner was tied to the upright grating, his face toward the mast and a leather apron strapped to his lower back to protect the kidney area. Then a petty officer stood behind the victim with a cat-o’-nine tails in his hands. The lash had been made specifically for this task and would be discarded overboard as soon as the punishment had been inflicted.
The Marine drummer stood nearby and began to slowly beat his instrument. At Phillip’s nod and order. “Do your duty” the bosun’s mate drew his arm back and struck Wi
llis’ back with full force, leaving nine red stripes where the lash had landed. Willis winced but made no other expression of pain. The other eleven lashes were laid on. The victim made not a sound during the punishment. At the end of the dozen, the petty officer backed away, and said, “Punishment inflicted, Sir.”
Willis was unstrapped from the grating and a bucket of seawater was thrown over his now bloody back. This time he did let out a howl as the salt water burned his wounds.
Lord Forsythe, who had been below during much of the punishment, approached and reported, “Sir, Doctor Baynes says he is most sorry for his actions and wished to express his apologies. He assures me he had no idea of his role in the ship and thought he was just to tend to me. Doctor Baynes told me there will be no further instances of disobedience.”
CHAPTER SIX
In due course, Doctor Baynes approached Captain Phillips on the quarterdeck and expressed his apologies personally. On his part, Phillips assured the doctor that he himself had over-reacted and offered his own. Fortunately the log had not yet been brought up to date, so the matter could be forgotten. The doctor explained he had not been thoroughly briefed concerning his duties.
His London practice had become very tiring for him and a friend employed at the Foreign Office informed him of this position. He understood he would be the personal physician of an important envoy to South America, and had fancied the voyage as something of a vacation. He had heard something of a Navy Warrant but that had little meaning to him and escaped his memory.
Back on Harley Street, he had been something of an important person and he assumed this would be the situation here. When he began receiving orders from all and sundry, he was sure he was being practiced upon.
Days later, the convoy had now gone as far south as it needed and was now to sail due west to the Windward Islands. HMS Andromeda would be leaving the convoy to continue on its course to its destination a little farther south.
The envoy had long since left his sickness behind and now joined the captain on the quarterdeck. Another deck chair had been constructed, and now the pair sat for hours discussing various topics. Lord Forsythe was well-travelled, with an extensive education and was able to expound upon many a subject Phillips had barely heard of. To Phillips intense relief, the subject of his wife’s deliverance from her captivity never came up.
One of the subjects that did, involved the envoy’s mission. Forsythe explained, “Last year a wealthy young man by the name of Bolivar, from the Spanish Province of Venezuela on the South American mainland, appeared in London and began discussing an agenda to anyone who would listen to him.”
“At the Foreign Office he announced his participation in a struggle for the independence of the Spanish regions of the South American continent. He had been sent to Britain by the junta in control of the area around Caracas. His mission was to obtain recognition, arms and hopefully funding. HM government did not wish to make commitments at this stage of the game, so nothing was promised. After due consideration, Government has decided to remain strictly neutral for the time being.”
“For now, the alliance with the Spanish Regency government against Napoleon is the most important item on our agenda. Later; who can tell?”
The Foreign Office had been given passports by Señor Bolivar, the Venezuelan rebel junta’s representative in London. Since these were not issued by the representative of the Regency council in Spain recognized by HM government as the legitimist Spanish authority, there was doubt the regional juntas in the Spanish Americas would honor these passports. Other passports had been received from the representative in London of the Regency junta now controlling Spanish government functions on the Peninsula. It was not known if the Spanish authorities in the New World would honor these either.
Forsythe had passports from each source, but it was impossible to know in advance how they might be greeted. Using the wrong passport might well have unfortunate consequences.
Phillips deemed it necessary to reduce the usage of water. Passing through the Horse Latitudes, the trades had become uncertain, and the ship had been becalmed for hours or days at a time. The bottom tier of the big water tuns had been corrupted by the infiltration of bilge water and the water was barely drinkable.
A Marine guard was placed on the scuttle butt on deck from which the crew was accustomed to quench their thirst in the tropical heat. A small dipper had been procured from the ship’s cook and crewmen were only permitted to have one dipper of water per watch.
The lack of water became more of an issue as days went by. When everyone’s patience had almost expired, a cat’s paw of breeze was seen ruffling the water’s calm surface near the ship. The yards were hurriedly braced around, and soon Andromeda was moving. This did not last long, but soon she had another breeze, then another. Soon, the ship was sailing again. There were plenty of locations where water could be obtained, but Phillips decided to continue on toward their destination in view of the security concerns.
HMS Andromeda now was making the best of her way toward Caracas. Phillips had been advised by the Admiralty the Spanish were very sensitive about foreign ships, especially warships, in their waters. When their noon sights proclaimed they were indeed south of eighteen degrees of north latitude, Phillips called Forsythe, as well as the first officer to him on the quarterdeck and produced his sealed orders.
He asked both to examine the mildew spotted document and assure themselves the seal was still intact, after which he opened the orders and read through them rapidly. When finished, he passed them to first Lieutenant Gould and then to Forsythe. The gist of the orders were simply to determine as soon as possible after entering Spanish colonial waters, whether the area around Caracas was still in the hands of the rebels. If so, and the rebel junta was still agreeable, Lord Forsythe would disembark, while Andromeda would take on water and necessary stores.
It was ordered that no military assistance of any type should be offered to the rebels. Phillips was permitted to embark certain rebel officials if so doing would not endanger the ship or crew.
Should Spanish government forces control the area however, Captain Phillips was to attempt to determine whether another destination was appropriate. In the absence of such a port, Andromeda should sail for the nearest British port. In the interests of secrecy, it was ordered the ship not make port, whether British, Spanish or Rebel, until it was determined whether or not the outcome would be favorable. It was desirable the Spanish governmental forces in the area not discover their presence.
Both land and the sails of a large ship were sighted one morning as the sun came over the horizon. As usual when at sea, HMS Andromeda had gone to action stations just for this eventuality. The ship was hull down in the distance, but was on a course that would intersect their own. Some mountain tops were visible in the distance, which Harding said did not appear on his old chart.
Mister Gould wondered whether they should attempt to avoid the stranger, in view of the secrecy instruction of their orders. Phillips decided the newcomer had probably sighted their own ship and he did not wish to appear furtive. As the pair closed during the morning, the ensign was hoisted as was the commission pennant.
When the approaching ship hoisted Spanish Royal Colors, Phillips signaled that he was in need of water. In European waters, the Spanish Junta had been furnished copies of the basic signal code used by the Royal Navy. He had no idea of whether this code had been made known on this side of the Atlantic. When the newcomer hoisted a meaningless assemblage of flag signals, he guessed not.
By now the approaching ship had been identified by Mister Harding as la Perla de España, of forty guns, or at least one of that class. As she approached within about two cables lengths, Perla hove to, and ran out her guns. Phillips ordered the same action, although with the disparity of force between the two ships, he knew an action would be suicidal on his part. However, he felt he must not quaver before this powerful opponent.
Through his glass, he thought he could see tendrils of
smoke rising from burning match in the linstocks of the enemy. At length, an ornate launch was lowered from the Spanish frigate and a uniformed crew pulled it over to Andromeda.
The officer in her stern sheets appeared to be a teniente of the Spanish service, and Phillips ordered him piped aboard with the proper respect, Marine guard and bosun’s mates present. As the officer came through the entry port he looked quickly around at the guns run out with burning match smoldering in the tubs.
Phillips answered the officer’s salute and approached with Midshipman Benson by his side. Benson, he had learned, could get along in the Spanish language and would serve as translator if needed.
After each party greeted the other in his own language, it became apparent the translator would indeed be needed. After a lengthy harangue by the Spaniard, Benson reported he thought the officer was giving them notice they must leave Spanish waters immediately.
Lord Forsythe was standing in the rear and Phillips asked him to produce the passport from the Spanish junta’s representative back in London. In an aside, he asked for him to be sure he had the proper one.
With some delay, Forsythe extricated the passport from his case and extended it to the officer. This person glanced at it quickly, tore it in half and threw the pieces to the wind. Another harangue followed.
Across to America: A Tim Phillips Novel (War at Sea Book 9) Page 3