A New War

by John G. Cragg

  “Sand bank must have shifted in that gale. They always wreak havoc on this sort of coast. Actually, it is probably mud more than sand. We are hardly listing at all. It is just bad luck that we ran aground on a falling tide, but at least there should be no structural damage.”

  “Not until that Frenchie starts pounding us,” retorted Giles mournfully. The bower anchor was taken out and the cable linked to the capstan. But even with as many men at the spokes as possible, stretching the cable to its fullest extent, Patroclus refused to budge.

  “Stand by the bow chasers to fire when the enemy comes in range,” Giles ordered. The French ship was already maneuvering to bring Patroclus within range of her broadside. Luckily, she was not aware of the special nature of Patroclus‘s bow armament and her present course, which should have kept the ship-of-the-line well clear of the range of the usual bow cannon of a frigate, would render her a good target for Patroclus‘s more powerful pair. Just as the enemy was crossing Patroclus‘s bow, she too slowed to a halt, also having run onto a mud bank.

  Giles ordered the bow chasers to fire, double-shotted and with double wads to increase the force of the recoil as much as possible. Patroclus shuddered from the recoil, but did not shift an inch. Giles did have the satisfaction of seeing the shot crash into the French ship just above the lower gun ports. Both of Patroclus’s cannons continued firing but only now with single balls, for the extra force with which the single cannon balls struck the enemy more than made up for their smaller number and produced a more gentle recoil. The latter consideration might be paramount since, as the worried carpenter explained, the recoil was having a more serious effect of Patroclus‘s timbers than usual since it could not be absorbed in any way by slowing or even reversing the ship’s progress through the water.

  The French ship opened fire on Patroclus. Giles ordered all hands who were not involved in serving the bow chasers to get into the boats and take refuge behind Patroclus’s stern: there was no point in taking needless casualties among men who could not advance the battle at present. He did keep a total of six gun crews on board, so that the crews actually firing the guns could be relieved before they tired too much.

  Although the French ship’s aim was rather erratic, it should have been an unequal battle with the French ship firing thirty-seven cannon to Patroclus’s two. But the number of hits was almost even since Patroclus was firing more than two rounds for every broadside of the French and most of the French shots missed completely. Patroclus’s well directed fire was chewing up the side of the French ship and had already hit several of her cannon, putting them out of service. What the result of the duel would be hung in the balance, until a loud, tearing sound came from Patroclus’s bow. Peering over the side, Giles saw that several staves of his ship’s siding had sprung free at the bow. Before he could stop the gun crews, they fired again, and the bow seemed to open like a walnut before the pressure of a nut-cracker.

  Giles had no choice but to abandon ship. He ordered a collection of readily combustible objects on Patroclus’s deck to be gathered about the main mast and he set the resulting pile alight. Patroclus was finished, but Giles would make any salvage attempts by the French more difficult. When the pile was blazing fiercely, he joined the last of the crew members in the jolly boat and ordered all boats to row as hard as they could to be well clear of the ship before the fire reached the magazine and blew the hulk to pieces.

  Meanwhile, Bush coming behind Patroclus in Perseus had seen how Patroclus had run aground. Promptly altering course to starboard, he had missed the hazard, and continued seaward. The other ships followed his new course. Perseus come broadside on to the French ship’s bow just as the Frenchman went aground. Bush immediately anchored so that he could fire into the French battle-ship, hoping that his fire would turn the tide of the fight even though his heaviest guns were only eighteen-pounders and the range was too long for his carronades. He ordered the other ships to proceed to seaward as Perseus began to pepper the French ship with his guns.

  When Patroclus split apart, Bush was faced with a dilemma. His shot was doing little real damage to the enemy; the guns were too small and the distance too great for the balls to be effective and he dared no try to get closer to the enemy because he already had almost no water under his keel. It was basically the case that the spent balls just bounced off the French ship with little harm, though they did have enough strength left to injure many of the enemy crew who were manning the guns. Now even that damage to the enemy would be less likely to occur and Bush had to worry about fending off a boarding party from the French ship. He could still try to disable the French ship or he could up anchor and first rescue Giles before joining the other ships and proceeding to England. The lack of officers on the other ships and the limited numbers of crew members made having them join him in an attack on the French ship an unlikely proposition. But Bush did not relish giving up with the enemy clearly in sight and vulnerable to attack.

  His dilemma was solved by Giles showing up with Patroclus’s boats. Bush had been presuming that Patroclus must have suffered heavy casualties, not realizing that Giles had kept most of his crew out of harm’s way. This presumption was ended when a midshipman announced that several boats were approaching Perseus from astern. Bush’s immediate reaction that these boats would contain French troops bent on capturing his command was quickly quashed when the usual challenge was answered by Carstairs booming out “Patroclus.” Giles had arrived and he had brought all his crew in Patroclus’s boats

  “Captain Bush. Would you ready a boarding party – as many men as you can spare? I am going to take that Frenchman!”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” Although Giles had couched his requirements as a polite request, Bush knew perfectly well that it was an order. Bush spat out a string of commands that would place as many of his crew and his marines in the boats, fully armed as a boarding party. At the last moment, he ordered his first lieutenant to stay in Perseus while he himself scrambled into the last boat. He was damned if he would let Giles have all the fun. Wide grins greeted him as he came aboard the boat. Even in the short time he had been in command of her, all Perseus’s crew realized that Bush wanted no special treatment because of his disabilities. The tales of how he had received his wounds had grown in the telling until Bush sounded like a veritable Hercules.

  Bush’s boat was the last to arrive at the ship-of-the-line. He decided to board through the gun deck on the starboard side, the one which had been badly mangled by Patroclus’s shot. With Giles, his shipmates from Patroclus and the rest of Perseus’s company engaged on the larboard side, Bush was able to lead his men without opposition onto the starboard side of the French gun deck. He himself would have no recollection of how he had scrambled into the ship, though he seemed to recall a friendly boost as he led the way on board. The tale of that attack formed part of the lore of Perseus that would be passed on from one crew to another even after Bush had moved on to other commands, getting steadily more implausible, until Perseus was finally broken up.

  In fact, the fight was indeed the stuff of legends. The French sailors found themselves suddenly attacked from the rear, by a yammering crowd of daredevils led by a raging man with a peg leg who was wickedly swinging a cutlass and breaking any head that came near him with a special club that sprouted from his other arm. It was too much for them. Those in the rear of the main battle threw down their arms presuming that the appearance of this seemingly huge hoard signaled that they would soon be overcome and all they could do was surrender in the hope that the madmen would spare them. The panic spread forward so that the attackers with Giles found that the pressure of the defenders, which had been threatening to drive them back to their boats, eased and soon Giles found himself confronting the French Captain who tendered his sword in surrender.

  Having accepted the surrender, taken the French officers’ paroles and given orders to secure the surrendering seamen, Giles turned to face a hard breathing Bush whose fierce battle grin was fading to a more civ
ilized smile. Giles noted that Bush’s cutlass, the knob where his left hand should have been and both sleeves of his coat were badly stained with blood. His subordinate had never been one to lead from the rear, and Giles was warmed to realize that neither promotion nor the loss of limbs had dampened Bush’s enthusiasm to be personally on the attack in a mêlée.

  “Captain Bush, thank you for your help. Many men will sleep calmly tonight who otherwise would have been committed to the deep! But I thought I told you to stay on your command.”

  “No sir. Your orders were to bring every man I could spare. My First is perfectly capable of sailing Perseus, but he has had no experience in hand-to-hand fighting.”

  “But I expected that you would be keeping an eye on our fledglings. Speaking of which, where are those frigates?”

  “They are midway between us and the French frigate, sir,” piped up Midshipman Stewart. Giles noticed that his uniform also showed clear evidence of participation in a bloody fight. “I was about to tell you that Impatience just signaled. Her commander is, I believe, the most senior of the three captains of the frigates.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “As far as I could make out -- they do not have any signal officers, of course, and I imagine it is some time since any of them were signal midshipmen – they are requesting permission to pursue and take the French frigate.”

  Giles normally would have reprimanded Midshipman Stewart for his lack of respect for those of superior rank, but this was not the time.

  “Signal to them to close on this vessel – I wonder what she is called.”

  “Le Jour de Guerre, sir” announced the irrepressible midshipman Stewart.

  Giles was starting to think that a visit to the gunner’s daughter might be the appropriate recipe for Midshipman Stewart’s cheekiness, but this was not the time to attend to it.

  “Sir,” broke in Bush. “I wonder if it might not be best to allow them to attempt to capture the ship.”

  “But they lack officers.”

  “True, but they do have all needed petty officers, and their crews undoubtedly have scores to settle with the French. And think of their commanders.”

  “What about them?”

  “They have been languishing on the beach, despite the recall of the navy when the war started again. From what I have seen of them they are capable officers, lacking in influence rather than skill or courage.”

  “This voyage should help them.”

  “Yes, sir. But capturing a French frigate would help them even more.”

  “I suppose. All right. Mr. Stewart, signal to the three frigates. They are to pursue and take the enemy, provided they can keep Perseus in view. Captain Bush, you had better return to your ship with your bloodthirsty crew and follow the frigates. I will stay with this Jure de Something and get her afloat and patched up enough to see us to the Solent. We shall have to share a bottle of claret when things are calmer.”

  Chapter XIV

  The collection of old sailors, petty officers and retired lieutenants, who haunted the Portsmouth Naval Yard, kept abreast of the latest doings at Spithead, and had a keen eye for ship movements, had a treat late in the morning a few days after Giles’s victory over the French seventy-four. A procession of ships made its way up the Solent to Spithead. The parade was led by a French third-rate with the French flag flying below the Union Jack. The pennant at her mast head revealed that she sailed under Admiralty orders. Studying the larboard side of the ship-of-the-line, the onlookers could see no sign of damage, as if she had been taken without a fight. They were not able to see the ruined starboard side.

  The French seventy-four was followed by the frigate Perseus which had sailed from Spithead only a bit over a week previously. Next came three merchant ships, all flying the red duster. They were followed by a captured French brig of war and a French frigate. Bringing up the end of the line were three more frigates, British ones that the watchers recognized as vessels that had disappeared and were presumed sunk or taken.

  As the anchorage at Spithead came into view, Midshipman Stewart pointed out to Giles that one of the massive first-rates was flying the flag of a full admiral. Even as the first gun of the salute that Giles ordered banged out, a flurry of signals rose on the flagship’s signal halyards. When they broke out, they occasioned a startled comment from the usually unflappable Mr. Stewart.

  “Good God! Captain Giles, the Admiral is ordering the first-rates and frigates nearest to us to clear for action and to prepare to raise anchors.”

  Mr. Brooks laughed. “He must think that we may be some sort of French ruse designed to wreak havoc among the anchored fleet. I imagine that Mr. Stewart used Patroclus’s number when identifying us and we are most certainly not Patroclus.”

  A subsequent hoist was read more calmly by the signal midshipman. “Our number and Perseus’s, sir. ‘All ships to anchor immediately’.”

  “Make it so, Mr. Davis. Let’s hope the lieutenants in command of the four frigates are not caught unprepared. Their chances of finding employment may depend on how they respond to the orders, or even if they can read them.”

  “The signal numbers for the same ships, sir. ‘Captains to report on board’.”

  “Acknowledge. Carstairs, my barge as soon as we anchor.”

  Giles scrambled up the tumble-home of the flagship, Herodotus, to be greeted by Captain Dowson, the flag captain whom he had not previously met. Giles was about to suggest that a bosun’s chair be rigged for Bush because negotiating a first-rate’s tumble-home was a challenge even for fit and able-bodied officers, let alone one who lacked both a foot and a hand. He was forestalled by the appearance of Bush’s hat rising into sight.

  “May I name, Captain Tobias Bush, sir? Captain Bush, this is Captain Dowson. Captain Bush was largely responsible for us taking Le Jour de Guerre with such little loss of life.”

  “Captain Bush, Captain Giles, welcome. Admiral Murphy has requested to see you with absolutely no delay. Incidentally, the First Lord is in the Admiral’s cabin as well.”

  Giles and Bush entered the Great Cabin to find the two admirals seated behind a table with their backs to the windows through which the sun was streaming. It made it very difficult for the captains to see the expressions on their faces. The flag lieutenant was standing beside them and seemed to be pointing out something to the two august figures. Giles suspected that in fact the scene was staged, just to impress on more junior officers the importance and burden of flag rank and the comparatively unimportant role of captains who were all too prone to take liberties with their superiors.

  “Captain Giles, I see you are back,” barked the First Lord. “What have you done with Patroclus?”

  “I lost her, sir. The details are in my report,” said Giles, placing his report on the table in front of the admirals.

  The First Lord ignored it. “Lost her? Lost her? How did you ‘lose’ her? You make it sound as if Patroclus were a farthing that you dropped in the stews at Cheapside.”

  “No, sir. We ran aground and then Patroclus split at the bow in our gun battle with Le Jour de Guerre.”

  “Gun Battle? Le Jour de Guerre? Is that the seventy-four you just arrived in?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And Patroclus split at the bow. Were you firing your bow chasers?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “They always said that having those powerful bows chasers would not work. I suppose that they were right?”

  “Yes, sir. But she was designed for lighter guns than our long thirty-fours. They were installed at the orders of the Ordnance Board, sir. The ship’s builder was very skeptical that she could take that weight. And the calculations were all made without the provision that Patroclus would be hard aground, sir,” protested Giles.

  “I know. The Ordnance Board really should come under our orders, but they don’t. This will, however, give the people on the Navy Board the excuse they need not to build another one.”

  “Surely that cannot be
, sir”, intervened the First Lord’s flag lieutenant. “Patroclus, even though she did split apart, gave very good value for money. One ship- of- the- line captured, three frigates captured, one frigate sunk, three frigates recaptured. It sounds to me that the Navy is up six frigates and one ship-of-the-line as a result of Patroclus. That’s seven ships that the Navy Board don’t have to build.”

  “I am afraid that they will not look at it that way. That’s seven ships for which they won’t be able to issue lucrative contracts to their friends and not reap the tokens of appreciation that flow from such an activity. But enough of this. I want to hear Captain Giles tell us all that happened. I know it is in your report, Captain, but I want it from your mouth. All the details from the time you reached the French coast.”

  The admirals listened in fascination. They grunted with satisfaction when Giles told of how the marines had driven off a cavalry patrol and shared the worry when a gale threatened to delay their departure still further. They chortled with glee when Le Jour de Guerre also went aground and quite clearly were of the unrealistic belief that if Patroclus had not broken apart then her cannonade alone would have defeated the enemy ship. They looked at Bush with disbelief as Giles related how his intervention had ended the fierce hand-to-hand battle that had ensued when Giles led his boarding party aboard the French ship. Finally they nodded approval as the three recaptured frigates caught and subdued the French one, and even sympathized with the problem that none of those three ships had an officer to put in command of their capture with the honor going to Bush’s first lieutenant.

  “Congratulations, Captain Giles and Captain Bush,” stated the First Lord again when the tale was finished. I wish all my orders were fulfilled as swiftly and successfully as these ones. There should be some special honors for you, but I can’t speak to that. There also should be large amounts of prize money, though I am afraid we will have to wait for the lawyers to determine what the divisions of the bounty are to be. The fact is that the lieutenants were sailing as supernumeraries, so I don’t know how the disbursements will go. But everyone should get something and you two will be rich – or in your case, Giles, I suppose I should say even richer.