The ignition was faster and more certain than the old flintlock system. The clergyman had not been available much of the time Campbell had been working on the device, and had no great expectations for it.
He was available however, when a stern-faced father approached the workshop with a sobbing daughter in trail and demanded to know what Mister Campbell had to say to explain why his daughter’s clothing was now much too tight.
The clergyman, of course, could not have one of his employees engaging in such licentious behavior, and dismissed him on the spot.
Not to be denied, the insistent parent followed Campbell from the shop where Campbell assured him he would marry the young woman, however without a livelihood now, he had no idea of how to support her. The now mollified father, relieved at the prospect of securing a husband for his daughter, questioned Campbell at some length about his qualifications in the gun-making trade. Assured, he offered to pay the passage of the couple to Canada, where his skills would likely be in demand.
Campbell was indeed successful, and soon had a shop of his own, along with a new daughter, after his bride came to term. He repaired weapons for hunters and military officers and made a few new ones based on the new ignition system. These were not as successful as he had hoped. He himself was the only source of the necessary percussion caps, and hunters or officers might find it difficult to replace the item when needed. Flints for the old system were available anywhere.
The new system intrigued Phillips when it was explained to him. It could be an embarrassing situation when a firearm refused to fire in the heat of an engagement, and this seemed to make that event more unlikely.
To that end, he purchased the pair of pistols on display and ordered a thousand of the special caps made up. Campbell assured him he would put his newly appointed apprentice to work on the task immediately, and have the stock ready before Andromeda sailed.
Elated to have sold the pistols he had formerly feared would remain on his inventory for months, he made an additional attempt at another sale. Months before, a British officer had brought a weapon into his shop for repair. The officer had been serving with Sir Isaac Brock, and had been based in Upper Canada. Serving with Native American tribes in disputed territory to the south, he had brought back a strange rifle. He had traded a dozen blankets and two pounds of gunpowder to a Shawnee warrior for it. It had been taken from an American settler in one of the incessant raids of those days.
Originally made in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, by a local gun maker there, it was a rather handsome piece. With an exceedingly long barrel and figured maple stock, it seemed a strange weapon for the rigors of combat in the wilderness. The lock of this weapon was broken, and the bullet mold missing. In this condition, the rifle was of no immediate use to the officer.
The officer wondered if repair was feasible. Campbell had assured him it could be done, but not in the time frame the officer required. The officer, who was destined to leave in a week in a convoy back to England, traded the weapon for a pair of pocket pistols and left the rifle to Campbell to do with as he wished.
Still believing he could make a success of his new ignition system, the gun maker made a new lock of that persuasion and fitted it to the rifle. The gun barrel, with its worn rifling, was bored out to a slightly larger caliber and re-rifled. With fresh balls cast from a new bullet mold, the rifle was in all important respects a new piece. With no buyers apparent, he made a pitch to sell the weapon to this new customer. Leading Phillips out the rear door, he pointed to a block of crumbling rock nearly two hundred yards distant.
Campbell explained the loading of the rifle. From a leather hunting bag he produced a paper cartridge containing a measured charge of powder, a greased patch and a single lead ball. He opened the little packet and poured the powder down the muzzle. Discarding the paper remnants, he placed the patch over the muzzle and centered the ball on that. Pushing the ball and patch into the bore with a short rod, he removed the longer ramrod from under the barrel. Pressure applied to this pushed the charge all the way to the breach.
With his finger, he opened a little brass door on the side of the buttstock and extracted a single cap of his own manufacture and placed it on the ignition nipple.
He explained to Phillips the rifle was now ready to fire. He indicated he was intending to fire at the distant rock and asked his potential customer to watch for the impact of the ball on the rock.
Phillips was not un-familiar with rifles, his father owning one that he had fired frequently in his youth. However, he observed as Campbell took careful aim and squeezed off his shot. With his father’s weapon, there would have been a noticeable delay between the flash of the powder in the pan and the discharge of the weapon. There was no such delay with this rifle. At the fall of the hammer, the rifle cracked almost instantly and a puff of rock dust flew from the stone down range.
Phillips loaded and fired a few rounds himself and pronounced himself satisfied. Back in the shop, he counted out the Spanish dollars required for the purchase of the pistols and the rifle and placed an extra order for the necessary caps and balls to fit the new weapons.
Campbell promised to have everything aboard Andromeda before the week was out. Leaving the rifle behind for cleaning, Phillips took his pistols with him and returned to the ship.
CHAPTER NINE
Andromeda had been kedged back to her mooring and was nearly ready to sail when a shabby little skiff was pulled up to her port beam and the gun maker’s apprentice passed up the rifle and package of ammunition to the anchor watch. Returning from another visit ashore, Phillips examined the weapon and was satisfied with his purchase. Enlisting the service of the new Royal Marine officer, Lieutenant Daniels, who had come aboard in Halifax, he went onto the quarterdeck to see what opportunities presented themselves to test the rifle.
Gulls were wheeling about overhead, and several were perched on pilings protruding from the water. The birds were at respectable distances and neither officer expected to hit one of them.
Daniels was most enthused about the new ignition system. At sea, firing a flint lock weapon was often dubious because of spray. If the powder in a pan became damp, the weapon would surely not fire until the priming, at least, was replaced. These caps seemed to fire every time though.
The gulls did not seem unduly perturbed by the target practice. After the first few shots, most of the birds ignored the discharges unless a ball passed too close. Finally, Daniels managed to strike a bird at nearly one hundred yards distance. The ruined bird fell thrashing into the sea and the remainder departed for a safer environment.
Mister Daniels volunteered his servant, a Royal Marine private, to clean the rifle, and Phillips called over his first officer to discuss the ship’s next voyage. The visit ashore with Vice Admiral Sawyer had produced his sailing orders and his instructions. American privateers were swarming to sea all along the eastern seaboard, with the intent to savage British trade. He was to attempt to disrupt this activity as much as was possible.
American shipping had in the recent past been of great importance to Britain and its action in Spain and Portugal. The harvest in Britain had been poor in recent seasons and prices were climbing daily for needed farm produce. Any American shipping, wishing to continue that trade, should be encouraged. For now, no pressing of seamen from these ships would be countenanced.
However, those American ships attempting trade with France or with French forces wherever found should be taken as prizes, the ships brought to a British port if possible, else they should be destroyed.
Any American ships encountered at sea, should be closely examined to determine their destination.
One of the final projects he had done in the dockyard was painting ship. A previous cargo from home landed from the last convoy was paint. With his own funds, Phillips purchased enough brown paint to give the ship’s sides a coat. From his place on the quarterdeck, he overheard a pair of midshipmen passing in a launch comparing the post ship to an old barn. Mister D
arby, the second officer, was present and outraged at the effrontery of the young men. He clearly wished Captain Phillips to summon them aboard to have their ears roasted, but Phillips smiled and ignored the event. Truthfully, he hoped any Yankee privateers they encountered would think the same. Surely, no King’s ship, would put to sea in such a state.
The new paint covered the gun port lids, and from a distance the closed ports were not apparent. From the chandler’s, he had procured some old barrels and crates which could be strategically placed around the deck, making the post ship appear to be a small down-at-the-heels trader.
To gild the lily, some cast off sailcloth was obtained from the dockyard. This was old, thin stuff with multiple patches. Already condemned and destined to be destroyed because of its condition, the dockyard master was willing to sell it for a small sum. The sailmaker set to with his crew cutting the poor material to fit.
At the last minute before sailing, a draft of seventy men was put on board launches and pulled out to Andromeda. These were mostly involuntary levies from the other ships in harbor, although some were volunteer landsmen, succumbing to the tales of wealth likely to be garnered from all of the American prizes taken.
HMS Andromeda was pulled out of harbor by her headsails. Initially, Phillips intended to follow the trade route merchant shipping generally followed on the way to the Channel. He had hoped to join up with a convoy, but the next was not due for weeks yet, and Vice-Admiral Sawyer was explicit with the necessity for her to depart as soon as possible. The first matter on the agenda was to look for enemy privateers. After several weeks of that, it would be time to search for the next convoy from home. He hoped to meet up with that shipping near Bermuda, but he well knew there was always the possibility they would miss each other. He would have been more comfortable with several more ships. However, he must make do with what he had.
One problem with travelling alone was, according to a recent Order in Council, British commercial shipping was forbidden to sail unless in convoy. This action had been taken soon after the American declaration of war had been received in London. Thus, posing as a lone British merchantman might be suspicious.
Mister Harding voiced his doubts about the effectiveness of the disguise, but Goodrich, the third officer assured him a previous Order in Council had removed the requirement of sailing in convoy because of the elimination of the French threat in the Caribbean. It was only after the American entry into the war that it was re-imposed. “Who is to say we did not sail before we learned of the new order”, Goodrich assured the sailing master.
After making their offing, the ship was readied for the closest inspection by a marauding privateer. The tops’ls were replaced by the ancient canvas secured from the dockyard. It had been reinforced by the sailmaker so no splits were likely to occur at in-opportune moments. The ship’s cook got into the act by throwing some visibly noxious substance over the side, leaving an unsightly stripe down to the waterline.
Some of the empty boxes and casks secured ashore were place strategically about on the weather deck. The remainder were disassembled and struck below into the hold. In the event the ship would clear for action, the material on deck could be thrown over the side in a minute.
The hands entered into the scheme with a will, often coming up with their own notions. Despite this however, Andromeda was not a universally happy ship. The extra draft of men taken aboard severely strained the living space in the berth deck. Then too, some of the levied men were those their old captains thought they could well do without. Already, the sea lawyers among them were muttering about their outrageous transfer away from the old ship and mates. The landsmen had not had the opportunity to be disgruntled yet. Most of them were too incapacitated from sea-sickness.
Phillips had asked Admiral Sawyer for the extra men. He had thought if he took several prizes, the extra hands would come in handy to man them. Otherwise, captured ships would necessarily be torched. Now though, with the new turmoil on his previously well-ordered ship, he was not so sure he had done the right thing. On the third day out, he had about come to the conclusion he must start flogging some men, if but to just get their attention. There had been some downright disobedience toward his officers and petty officers, and names had been taken.
He mentioned to Mister Gould, who was standing on the quarterdeck, just aft of a party of men holystoning the deck early one morning, that it was time to have a mast for defaulters. He knew this would be discussed by the men on the berth deck on their off watch.
Late in the fore-noon watch that day, the masthead lookout reported a sail approaching on their starboard beam. He soon advised the stranger to be ship rigged but was still hull down. It seemed to be altering course to intercept their own.
Phillips did not regard this as unusual. The likely explanation was a King’s ship coming up from southerly regions. As he went to his quarters, after taking the noon sights, everyone on the ship with a glass was leaning over the rail to examine the sail plan of the newcomer to see if she could be identified.
It was his second officer, Mister Darby who reported hesitantly, and announced. “Sir, we do not think this sighting to be a King’s ship. Her rig is not what we would expect to see on such. I myself have never seen her before, I am sure. Some of us are thinking she may be a Yankee privateer.”
“Well Mister Darby, you cannot say we look all that much like one of His Majesty’s ships, ourselves. However, you could very well be correct. I will be on deck shortly.”
On deck, the stranger had distinctly closed. She was now over the horizon and the details of her hull were becoming apparent. She appeared to be a rather large, ship rigged vessel, probably not new, but spacious enough to carry either a large cargo or plenty of men. From her inquisitive nature, Phillips would have wagered on her carrying more men than cargo.
It was unlikely for a timid merchantman to approach a strange sighting so boldly. It could be she was a merchantman with a letter of marque. These documents, Phillips had been informed, were being issued by the hundreds from every port on the American seaboard. Such a document would allow a trading ship carrying cargo, to take prizes, provided the ship had a few guns and enough men to take the risk.
At any rate, Andromeda could not continue sailing along fat and dumb, waiting for the stranger to close. There was every chance she would smell a rat and sheer away. Sailing in light westerly breezes under her ancient topsails, Phillips gave orders to set the fore and main courses. These were no better than the tops’ls, being old, discarded sailcloth gleaned from the dockyard scrap, of the type a parsimonious owner might choose to equip an old ship.
With the extra canvas, the ship began showing a wake, but with some judicious work at the braces, enough wind was spilled to allow the stranger to slowly continue to come up. It was coming on close to sunset when the pursuer hoisted her flag and fired a gun. It was a Yankee, and the gun she fired appeared to be a nine pounder long gun.
CHAPTER TEN
Phillips ordered all plain sail set, and the yards braced to the wind. Before the sun set, it was now certain Andromeda was holding her own, neither gaining nor falling behind. The sky was overcast and no moon was present, so for the moment, at least, they were out of sight of their pursuer. Satisfied, called his officers into the cabin along with the bosun’s mate of the watch.
“Gentlemen, I wish to set before you what I hope will happen. Of course we are all aware a Yankee privateer is close behind us with a powerful ship, likely full of men. We could come about now and engage her with a most likely positive result. We might well lose more men than I would wish by engaging in the dark though, so I propose to wait until dawn, when we shall make the attempt in the morning light with our men rested.”
“Hopefully, the enemy believes us to be a ragged merchantman, barely able to stay out of his clutches. Likely he will stay with us as best he can in hopes of getting a few shots into us. I want to assist him in keeping us in sight, but of course I will not allow him to close or fire
into us.”
“Thus, now that he can no longer see us, I will take down our old canvas and hoist our good sailcloth, taking care to not fall behind. As soon as that is finished, we will begin to encourage our pursuer. Presently, we are darkened so that it is difficult for her to see us. Therefore, we will begin making some mistakes.”
“Mister Gladding”, Phillips ordered, addressing the bosun’s mate of the watch. “Occasionally, one of your men will wish to light his pipe. He may do this from the binnacle light, which is of course now shuttered, to keep it from the view of the enemy. By opening the shutter, the people behind us will get a quick glimpse of the light, enough to determine our position. This must seem accidental, so as not to invoke suspicion.”
“The deck officer may also feel the need of tobacco. Therefore, I am leaving a supply of Spanish cigars by the helm. At his discretion, he, as well as the helmsmen, may wish to smoke also. As with the men forward, they may light their cigars from the binnacle lamp, making certain the shutter is closed when finished.”
“Soon after we have disclosed our position to our followers, we will make a course change to port, as if we are attempting to draw away. Before we get too far away however, it will be necessary to ‘accidentally’ disclose our new position once again.”
“While this is going on, I would like our deck cleared of all of our trash. It should be taken down and struck below. I do not wish it thrown overboard just yet for fear of alerting the enemy.”
Across to America: A Tim Phillips Novel (War at Sea Book 9) Page 5