A New War

by John G. Cragg

  Bush was flattered that Daphne had remembered what he had mentioned about his family. He was also pleased to find that the house was substantial, for while reveling in Giles’s offer, he had been afraid that his family would be a bit crowded in a cottage.

  The key grated roughly in the lock when Daphne tried it, but the lock did yield and she was able to wrestle the door open. Neglect was immediately obvious. There was a damp smell, cobwebs were evident in the corners of the ceiling of the entry way and in the windows that flanked the door, and there were mouse tracks all over the hallway. The same was true elsewhere as they explored the rooms. But even so, the basic attractiveness of the house was evident, even though there was no furniture of any kind.

  “I had heard that Mr. Gramley auctioned off the contents of the Cottage,” remarked Daphne, “but I had no idea of how completely he had cleared the place out. It certainly gives you the chance to furnish it exactly as you want, Captain Bush. Or does your Mother have her own furniture?”

  “No, only one or two favorite pieces. But this is a daunting challenge.” This from a man who had faced French gunfire without flinching.

  “It is, but not so great as it might appear. A good cleaning is needed first and then some paint or paper on the walls and brightening up the trim. Then it will be quite a different place. But let’s explore upstairs.”

  The first floor was as pleasant as the main floor, with light streaming into the main bedrooms. There was indeed enough room for Bush, his mother and each of his sisters to have their own rooms, with the two main rooms having separate dressing rooms. There was even a couple of extra rooms that would serve for guests.

  “This is wonderful,” enthused Bush, “I am sure that my mother and sisters will love the house. But how do I get it furnished and ready? I suppose that Edwards might have some ideas. Captain Giles mentioned that he was arranging for the Hall to be brought to order and furnished.”

  “If Mr. Edwards doesn’t come through, I am sure there are contacts in the village who can set you on the right path,” said Daphne a bit testily. She had had in the back of her mind that she could guide the preparation of the Dower Cottage, and had been excited by the prospect. “But I would think that the first thing is to get it cleaned up – that is if you have made up your mind to take it.”

  “Yes, I think I will. But how in the world do I manage to get it cleaned up before Edwards and his arranger arrive?”

  “My maid, Elsie, has a cousin living in the village. She’s married to the hostler at the inn, who can organize several women to do the job. I’ll ask her if you like.”

  “Please. It is very good of you to be so concerned.”

  Daphne carried most of the conversation as they completed their inspection and walked down the drive, chattering on about her hopes for the drainage project and about the possibilities of refurbishing the Dower Cottage. She did not notice that she was getting ahead of Captain Bush, until he called a halt, saying, “I’m sorry, but I have to rest my leg a while,” as he sank down onto a convenient, low, stone wall.

  Daphne was horrified. “Oh, no! What is it?”

  “I am afraid that my stump has become too painful to continue immediately. And my other leg and my back are aching terribly.”

  “Stay right there. Mr. Jackson, our apothecary, is just across the road. I will fetch him at once.”

  Daphne scurried off and returned in a few minutes with a tall, rather grizzled man.

  “So, your stump is giving problems. Let’s see it. I’ll need some help to get your trousers down. Daphne, please go and tell Jake to come

  “A remarkable girl that,” Jackson continued after Daphne disappeared on her errand. “She is the best assistant I can get, but her father only lets her help – because he can’t stop her – when it involves one of the people on his own estate. If she were a man, she would make the best doctor in these parts. But then, she already is the best estate manager.”

  He broke off when a burly young man came through the gateway and up the drive.

  “Jake, give me a hand here, I want to see Captain Bush’s stump so we have to get his trousers out of the way. Oh, Captain Bush, this is Jake. He is a carpenter by trade and there is no one better at making artificial limbs and crutches and sticks to help in walking.”

  With Jake’s help, Jackson soon had Bush’s trousers down, the peg-leg unstrapped and the red and swollen stump revealed. Jackson delicately pushed and prodded at the stump causing some more pain even though he clearly was trying to be gentle.

  “When did you suffer the injury?” asked Jackson.

  “It must be six months ago, now.”

  “You have more of a pad over the bone than most surgeons seem to leave, so there is no basic trouble. But the peg-leg was not fitted properly. It doesn’t conform to the shape of your stump. That’s why it is causing so much pain. It is also too short. That and your stick being too short also account for your other leg being sore and your back aching.’

  Jackson dug into his pocket and produced a jar of ointment which he rubbed onto the stump.

  “I’ll give you this salve to help soothe the stump. Apply it every few hours. When the swelling is down, Jake here can craft you a new peg-leg. He’ll make you a new cane as well – of the proper length. You’ll have to go easy for a while, but after that you should have no more problems. You will have to be pretty immobile until the swelling goes down and Jake can fit the new leg. I don’t want you using the old leg – it will just slow the healing down. Now Jake, go and fetch the cart and we’ll get Captain Bush back to the inn.”

  Raising his voice, Jackson called, “Daphne. You can come out now.”

  Daphne showed up almost at once.

  “How did you know I was there?”

  “I heard you talking to Mrs. James. We will take Captain Bush back to the inn and he has to avoid using his leg for a few days. Don’t try to make him go on any more excursions with you.”

  “Daphne didn’t make me go with her.” Bush protested. “I was eager to see the cottage when she suggested it.”

  “Yes. Well I know how persuasive her suggestions can be,” replied Jackson, “and the more you use your leg right now, the longer it will take before you are really mobile again.”

  Jake returned with a horse-drawn cart. Jackson and he lifted Bush into the cart. Jackson and Daphne accompanied the cart to the inn where again Jackson and Jake carried Bush in and deposited him in a comfortable chair in front of the fire.

  They left, and so did Daphne explaining that her father would be expecting her and would get very worried if she was away much longer than expected.

  Bush settled into his chair comfortably, leg up on a stool. He was contemplating what to have for luncheon when into the room came Mr. Moorhouse followed by two husky men dressed like farm laborers.

  “Daphne told me of your problems, Captain Bush. It makes no sense for you to remain at the inn. They will have an awful time getting you up the narrow stairs to your room and there are no decent rooms on the ground floor. The only solution is for you to come and stay with us. Harry and Gordon here can easily carry you to the carriage and up and down stairs, which you may recall are quite wide. No, I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Quite apart from the fact that I will be delighted to have you as a guest for a while, Daphne won’t hear of your not coming.”

  Bush’s protests went for nothing. Before he knew what was happening, he was bundled up, carried to Mr. Moorhouse’s carriage by the two strong laborers, and placed inside where he was joined by Mr. Moorhouse who promptly gave the signal to proceed.

  Daphne was equally firm when they reached Dipton Manor. “You’ll be no bother at all, Captain Bush. Father is delighted to have a fellow enthusiast in the house. You can’t stay at the inn while waiting for your new leg to be fitted – too uncomfortable – and you cannot think of proceeding to Harwich until you have seen Mr. Edwards. But you must write your mother at once to tell her the news and prepare her for the move. Here, we ha
ve a portable writing desk that you can put across your knees.”

  Bush decided to accept the hospitality with good grace. It was just what he wanted, and there was no point protesting out of politeness something that his hosts so full heartedly offered.

  Chapter IV

  Giles and Carstairs arrived at Butler’s Hard at 10:30 a.m. in a gig from Portsmouth. It had been a slow trip since the coach from London had lost a wheel on the way and many hours passed before a replacement was found. They had needed to stay at a cramped inn in Portsmouth before being able to hire the gig to take them on their way. The sight that greeted them as they rounded the final curve seemed to compensate for all the discomfort and annoyances.

  The sun was breaking through the clouds which had recently delivered rain. Shafts of light illuminated the scene. The river, somewhat muddy from the recent rains, seemed to ooze through the countryside as the rising tide met the current, producing only lazy swirls to show that it was alive. Beyond, flat, semi-marsh land gave way to forest trees, with a few ponies grazing in the distance. The centerpiece of this idyll was a frigate, obviously new, painted black with white paint outlining the gun ports, and decks still showing new wood, floating high, anchored in the middle of the river. It was almost finished from all appearances: the masts were stepped, the standing rigging in place and the yards crossed, but it was still lacking sails and some running rigging. A swarm of men was working on her, some aloft, and more on the main decks, some in laborers’ clothes, others clearly sailors. Despite this bustle, the glass-like river gave the scene a feeling of peace with the frigate reflected in it, and the country side still. The frigate was the only vessel anchored in the river, but three ships were on the ways in various stages of completion.

  Giles went directly to the works office where Joshua Stewart greeted him enthusiastically, “Captain Giles, Patroclus is ready. A few details and changes, which your master and bosun suggested, are being completed as we speak. Water’s aboard, and provisions are supposed to arrive today, or so the Admiralty says. You can be on your way once your people get the sails bent on and the guns are in place. The Admiralty took the unusual step of bringing the guns to us rather than having you take them on board in Portsmouth. Something about not providing information to any spies there. Probably because of your bow chasers. They are twenty-four pounders, and I cannot guarantee that she can carry more, though the chappy from the Ordnance Board is talking thirty-four’s. Your powder’s not on board either. You should find her a fine ship, Captain.”

  “I’ll need to inspect her fully, Mr. Stewart, before I can take possession,” Giles interrupted his flow of words.

  “Of course, Captain, of course. I think I saw one of your boats at the jetty, but if it’s not there, I’ll easily arrange a boat to take you out to her right away. Perhaps you can dine with me when your inspection is finished.”

  One of Patroclus’s boats was indeed at the jetty, under Midshipman Correll. Giles greeted him warmly, and nodded at the crew, all of whom seemed delighted to see him. They rowed smartly out to the anchored frigate, where Giles was properly piped on board, though even the boatswain’s mates seemed to have trouble withholding their grins until the calls were ended.

  “Mr. Davis, it’s good to see you,” Giles greeted the officer who stepped forward to meet him, “Has the First Lieutenant not come aboard yet?”

  “No sir. And we’ve received no news of when he will arrive.”

  “Very well. Be so good as to assemble all hands so I can read myself in.”

  Giles greeted the other officers, and warrant officers, all of whom were well known to him, while the crew gathered. He then pulled from his coat the sturdy commission which gave him the authority to command the ship and gave him virtually the power of life or death over those before him. Those awesome words in no way seemed to disturb those who heard him. Giles, as always, felt qualms about his ability to truly fulfill all aspects of the burden he was taking up.

  “I need to inspect the ship completely, from keel to topmast cap, before I can sign for her. Mr. Davis, come with me together with the Boatswain and the Carpenter. The little group formed and started to go over the ship carefully, noting every joint, rib and plank. The bilges were almost dry, having been pumped in anticipation of the Captain’s inspection, and hardly smelled at all.

  “A bit of vinegar in here, Mr. Shearer, I think.”

  “Aye, aye, sir. Though we already emptied two casks into it after pumping her.”

  “Very good, Mr. Shearer. I don’t really need to tell you your business, do I?”

  “No sir. I mean…”

  “I know what you mean, Bill, and you are quite right.”

  They continued on their way, noting the few things that the others had already pointed out to the men from the yard who were still working to fix them. From keel to topmast and from stem to stern, everything was carefully examined. It spoke highly both of the shipyard and of the warrant officers, who had made very exacting inspections of everything that fell within their domains, that Giles found no changes to be made or short-comings to be set right that had not already been found by his subordinates. By late afternoon, they were through. Giles ordered his boat brought along side and with all the pomp that saw a captain over the side of his ship, returned to the jetty near Mr. Stewart’s office.

  “Is everything satisfactory, Sir Richard?” Mr. Stewart queried Giles as he entered his room.

  “Yes, indeed. I went over her completely and am very pleased with the workmanship. Your people are completing the few flaws that my men have found. As soon as our guns, provisions and powder and shot are aboard we will sail.”

  “I understand that the barges bringing the guns will be here tomorrow, and the other supplies the next day. I must say it is unusual for the Admiralty to come to us. Most ships proceed to Portsmouth for taking on board their supplies.”

  “It may have something to do with the Admiralty not wanting us to be delayed by the maneuvering that usually slows everything in Portsmouth.”

  “Possibly. I hope you don’t need crew. All my workers, and most of the men in the surrounding area have their protections, so a press gang would have very slim pickings.”

  “Thanks for the warning. We are indeed short of men.”

  “Well, Captain Giles, I wish you luck. Now I have some very good Madeira and we should drink to Patroclus and all who will sail in her.”

  The two men settled comfortably into arm chairs on either side of the fireplace, to sip their wine and talk about a variety of subjects. The only part of real interest to Giles was when the discussion turned to the new design embodied in Patroclus.

  “I trust that the decrease in beam will make her a faster ship,” Mr. Stewart opined. “The heavier bow chasers should also make her a more dangerous opponent. But I think that twenty-four pounders are all she can take. I would have been happier with long eighteens. I know that the Ordnance Board believes that thirty-four pounders would be still more effective, but I am not sure how she would stand the recoil of the heavier guns. As I said, I am even a bit leery of the twenty-fours. It is a big step up from the long nine’s that usually constitute the bow chasers.”

  “Time will tell, I suppose. I’m sure that the man from the Ordnance Board who will be overseeing our armament on our shakedown cruise will have an opinion. I am afraid that I shall simply have to rely on his knowledge. I know how to sail and fight a ship, but less about how to evaluate what strains she can undergo. Now I must get back to Patroclus. Thank you for the wine. I am afraid that I shall have to forego dinner.”

  “There is one thing, Captain. My boy, Daniel. He’s fourteen. I wanted him to be apprenticed in the shipyard so he would be fully qualified to take over from me when the time comes, but he is dead set on being a seaman. He even argues that sailing ships would give him more insight into what is required than building them. I suppose I should just put my foot down, but I have a very soft spot for him.”

  “Yes?”

&nb
sp; “Do you have a berth for a midshipman, Captain?”

  “I might have. But you do realize, Mr. Stewart, that we are going to war, and even at the best of times, sailing on a frigate is not the safest of occupations. In war, it is much more hazardous.”

  “I know. It’s one of the reasons I would like him here, but he wants to go and see the world. His mother supports him, since that is what he is dying to do. I think she also believes that it is a way for him to become a true gentleman. I can’t say no. Do you have a berth for him?”

  “Yes, I do, Mr. Stewart. As long as you understand the risks, but he’ll have to be quick. I’ll need him aboard by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Very good, Captain. He has already talked me out of the uniform and a dirk, and his mother has his sea chest all ready. And thank you. Many captains come through here who only want midshipmen with influence, and there are others with whom I would not like to have him sail. You have the reputation of not being concerned about influence, and no captain has a better reputation in guiding young gentlemen.”

  “It’s good of you to say so, Mr. Stewart, though you surprise me. I can imagine no one I would prefer to have on my side than a lad who was involved in the building of my ship.”

  “My pleasure, Captain. I wish you good luck.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Stewart. I know you have done all you can to make the odds favorable to us.”

  As Giles left the works office, he noticed a crowd of men gathered at the end of the jetty. One man, wearing a lieutenant’s uniform, seemed to be haranguing the crowd. The lieutenant’s uniform seemed to be of the best material and cut, not what one would normally expect a junior officer to be wearing, especially if he were journeying to a shipyard. The lieutenant’s hat was also of very good quality and somewhat rakish.