HMS Centaur: A Charles Mullins novel, Sea Command 8

by Richard Testrake

  HMS Centaur

  Richard Testrake

  22417

  Copyright © 2017 Richard Testrake

  All rights reserved:

  This book is dedicated to my wife Peggy, my daughter Lisa and my son Charles.

  Table of Contents:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Additional works available

  Chapter One

  The government coach bearing Captain Charles Mullins and his superior, Admiral Montague, arrived at Mullin’s London town home early in the morning. They had set out from Portsmouth the day before to attend a musical soiree that Doris Mullins, wife of Charles, was hosting in her home.

  Doris had invited Admiral Montague, who attended these affairs only for the sake of maintaining proper relations with his subordinates. He had been heard to say that he would rather have a tooth pulled than attend one of these events, especially when an uncomfortable coach trip to London was involved.

  When Mullins offered to remain behind, Montague assured him, if he had to travel to London to attend this soiree, Mullins must do the same and enjoy it. Arriving, just as the household was waking, both Mullins and the admiral went to their rooms to recover from the long journey. Admiral Montague, having spent decades at sea, could sleep through almost any disturbance, but Mullins was not so hardy.

  Each time he began to nod off, he was awakened by the tootling of some instrument or the soprano voice of Mrs. Harding from next door, practicing her scales at length. Finally, Mullins got up, dressed for the occasion and went downstairs. The library had been stripped of most of its furnishings and seats placed for the performers and audience.

  Many of the neighbors came to the performance, more for the opportunity to meet a Royal Naval admiral, rather than the quality of the recital. Even people whom Mullins had never met before, were straggling in.

  The performance began on time, moments after Admiral Montague stepped into the room. Doris Mullins gave him an enthusiastic welcome, recounting to her neighbors some of the important phases of his career. As soon as he acknowledged her, the program began.

  The piano recital by the Draper girl went well enough, then Mrs. Harding was able complete her solo without serious difficulty.

  Doris stepped from the room to prepare for her presentation of a song of unrequited love. When she returned, there were muted sounds of awe and disgust from the audience. She was wearing a very sheer gown that left nothing to the imagination. To a person, the male members of the audience were nodding heads in approval, while the ladies were not quite so enthusiastic.

  Mullins was philosophic. He knew by now that nothing was going to change his wife’s behavior, so there was not much point in trying. Doris did have a fine voice and he was able to close his eyes and lose himself in the beauty of her voice.

  It was then he realized that Hanson, a broken-down sailor employed to do light duties about the house, was standing beside his chair, trying to get his attention. Assigned to act as a butler on this occasion, he whispered in a voice that could have reached the maintop on a stormy night, “Sir, messenger at the door!”

  Mullins waited for Doris to finish before he left his seat, but he saw from the expression on her face that all was not going to be well tonight between them. She had warned him before the program that he was not to even think of ways to absent himself from the recital.

  At the door, he saw the messenger was a Marine sergeant with a dispatch case. Davis, the hostler, was holding the Marine’s mount, while the messenger crashed to attention and said, “Sir, Admiralty papers for Admiral Montague!”

  Mullins signed the receipt and assured the rider he would deliver the papers to the admiral at once. For a moment, he wondered if Admiral Montague had arranged this message to evade the remainder of the performance. He at once realized that would hardly have been possible, but doubted his wife would feel the same.

  The room fell silent as Mullins handed the papers to Montague, who read them over carefully, before asking Mullins if he could have the use of a vehicle to take him to the Admiralty. Hanson had kept his eye on the men and came over immediately when Mullins signaled.

  “Hanson, the admiral needs to visit the Admiralty immediately. I want you to collect Davis and tell him to prepare the carriage. You should go along with them. Take a weapon from the gun room, there may be footpads about.”

  Doris was glaring at him when he returned to his seat. “Dear”, he said, “Admiral Montague must leave us for a bit. He has been called for a conference, official business I am afraid.”

  After the admiral left, little attention was being given to the remainder of the recital. The duet of adolescent feminine flutists did not bother to perform. Mullins knew well he would be held responsible for the failure of the evening and wondered if it might be best to inquire if a room was available for him at his club.

  As he was pondering this, the coach could be heard clattering up the drive. It had made a fast trip to deliver its passenger to the Admiralty and return. He made a mental note to speak to Davis about his driving. He did not care for his horses to be driven at such a pace after dark.

  Hanson rushed into the library and told Mullins that the admiral wanted to see him at once. His presence was required at the Admiralty immediately. Mullins knew then he had better plan to spend the next few days at the club. Doris would never abide this. He deputed Hanson to inform Doris of his summons to the Admiralty, and slipped out the door, hopefully unobserved.

  Davis did not spare the horses and they arrived at the Admiralty before Mullins had gathered his thoughts. It was now long after dark and most of the offices were empty. A pair of warders ushered him inside and showed him to a small conference room.

  Admiral Montague sat at a small table with a gentleman that Mullins recognized as one of the sea lords. Cigars were smoldering and a brandy bottle stood on the table with some glasses. This gentleman moved his chair back, refilled his glass and muttered a few words of greeting. Montague began, “Mullins, do you know Captain Hodges of the Centaur?”

  “Only by reputation, I am afraid”, Mullins admitted.

  Montague explained, “He is a senior captain, nearly at the top of the captain’s list. At the present he commands HMS Centaur, a nearly new 74-gun line-of-battle ship, destined shortly for the waters off the western Spanish coast. Hodges tried to take a fence his horse did not like earlier today. The old fool now has a broken leg and some other injuries. He is in the hands of a local sawbones while waiting for someone to decide whether to transport him into London.”

  “It appears he will be on the sick list for months, and in the meantime, Centaur is waiting to sail for Spain. If he weren’t so damned senior, I send him to the beach and appoint a new captain, but his friends will never allow me to get away with that. Instead, I must appoint another captain as a temporary commander while Hodges is being repaired. You, Captain Mullins, are my first choice as her new commander. What
are your thoughts on the matter?”

  It took a few minutes for Mullin’s mind to grasp the situation. Montague must have a good opinion of him. Under normal circumstances, it would be years before he was senior enough to command a third-rate.

  Montague, perhaps realizing he was stoking Mullins pride, spoiled the effect by saying, “Of course, the only reason you are getting this plum, is because it is a very temporary command and you are immediately available. You would be joining another pair of third rates off the Spanish coast. William Granger and Philip Fitzroy command these. Granger is senior and will command the squadron. Granger is a sensible man and you will do what he tells you and refrain from what he does not. You will know General Wellesley is busy in the area and the purpose of your squadron will be to prevent any French warships from taking an unhealthy interest in our army’s business.”

  Mullins mind was in a whirl, he was wondering how he was going to present this new development to his wife. Temporizing, he asked the admiral about his most recent ship, HMS Achilles, a nearly new frigate.

  “Captain, Achilles, I am told, will be in the dockyard for another week or two. She will not do for the assignment proposed for you. A ship of force is required and is available in the form of HMS Centaur. Should you take this temporary command, I will endeavor to appoint you to a more permanent command later. Of course, nothing can be promised. Now, do you want her or not?”

  Mullins had almost decided this enforced transfer from his nearly new frigate to Centaur might be a bit much, but lacked the courage to inform Admiral Montague of this.

  Taking the course of least resistance, he assured his superior he would indeed accept command of Centaur and appreciated the chance. “When shall I take command, Admiral?”

  “Right away, my boy. Centaur is moored at Plymouth now, ready to sail as soon as may be. A fast cutter has been laid on to deliver you there as soon as possible.”

  “I am afraid there will be no time for you to go home and pack your chest. Knowing wives as I do, I realize there is no way that Doris would allow you to depart in a timely manner. Once you have taken command of your new ship, doubtless you could find a few hours to go ashore and purchase your needs.”

  The first lord spoke for the first time. “Captain, your mission is important. Your squadron is charged to keep the sea open for the ships supplying our army in Spain. I have been informed of some of your previous services for the Crown. This will be a chance for you to gather more laurels.”

  Chapter Two

  After leaving the Admiralty, Mullins had Davis drive him to the quay, where he was to board the cutter’s boat for the first leg of his journey. On the way, he instructed the hostler to pack up his sea chest after his return to the town house and arrange to have it shipped to HMS Centaur off the Spanish coast. Davis was dubious about this. He had no more wish to endure Doris’ tongue than Mullins did himself.

  It was first light when Mullins climbed aboard the little cutter. Her captain, Lieutenant Baker was furtively glancing at his watch as his passenger climbed aboard. He had been warned to brook no delay, but how to tell a post captain he must hurry? The wind would just serve to take them down the river. Mullins calmed the nervous captain by telling him he had had little sleep the last pair of nights and wondered where could he find a berth?

  Baker informed him his carpenter had constructed a partition in the cabin, and made a hanging bed for him. The cabin was small to begin with and after being divided, each space was tiny, indeed. Mullins washed quickly, then stretched out on his new bed for a few minutes. It was evening before he was awakened by the smell of the supper Captain Baker’s steward prepared for him. After eating, he begged paper and pen from Baker. There had been no time or opportunity previously to inform Doris of what was now happening, so writing as small as he could, he began his duty to inform her of his situation on the single sheet that was all that could be spared. He knew she would be furious with his unannounced departure, but thought she might recover by the time of his return.

  The voyage down the coast passed swiftly enough, then the cutter entered Plymouth harbor. One of the first sights that met Mullin’s eye was a beautiful third-rate, moored fore and aft in the outer harbor. The cutter, due to the crowded anchorage, was unable to approach the big warship, so she moored where directed and Mullins was offered a ride in the cutter’s gig.

  Someone had been warned aboard Centaur, and she was ready for him. Piped aboard in a seamanlike fashion, her Marines put on their usual splendid display. The officers, warrants and crew were all in their Sunday best, and the ship itself was in excellent condition.

  The first officer, Mister Anderson, introduced himself and Mullins handed him his orders. The crew had already been mustered aft, and it only took a few minutes for Anderson to read the orders aloud to the crew, which made Mullins her official captain.

  Altogether, Mullins was perfectly satisfied with the ship, although he thought he saw a few wry looks passed between the ships’ officers. He was not surprised, since he noticed his officers were an elderly lot. Anderson himself, must be twice Mullin’s age. Probably, he had anticipated the captaincy himself.

  Mullins was not concerned. He doubted if he would be in command for more than a few months anyway. If any of these people did have a problem, it would not be difficult to send some ashore and get new officers. Of course, this could mean trouble with Captain Hodges, upon his return.

  After giving a short speech to the crew, he met with his officers and warrants on the spacious quarterdeck, telling them he had no wish to make major changes and hoped they all would all assist him to make the remainder of this commission a success.

  Learning from Mister Anderson that all stores were aboard, and the mail bags had been sent ashore, he decided to ask permission to leave. The tide was on the ebb and he thought the wind might just serve. It turned out there was one problem. Mister Nelson, their gunner, was missing his wife. Mrs. Nelson lived aboard ship and took care of the younger midshipmen. She had gone ashore the day prior to visit a relative and had not yet returned.

  Mister Anderson asked him when she was expected to return. Nelson was not quite sure. He explained to his new captain. “Sir, Captain Hodges was always very good about giving her every opportunity to spend time ashore, even if it delayed the ship’s departure sometimes.”

  Anderson looked at Mullins for advice. Mullins wondered if there was some reason for the old captain to be overly solicitous toward the gunner’s wife. Shaking his head, he ordered the ‘Blue Peter’ hoisted aloft and the crew were ordered to go below and get into their working rig. Then it would be time to win their anchor and get the ship out to sea.

  There was muttering among the crew as they made ready to sail. The blue signal flag with its white square in the center, had been flown, which indicated that all persons ashore should return to the ship directly. Mullins had remained on the quarterdeck while the ship was made ready, not even entering his cabin to inspect it. Apparently, the gunner’s wife was a popular woman aboard, since many a crewman was caught staring at the near shore for a glimpse of her.

  Although of course not a permanent part of the crew, it had become almost customary for gunners to have their wives sail with them. Since these women were usually matronly ladies and their husbands of some authority aboard ship, there was rarely serious trouble with the men.

  At length, after the first officer announced the ship was ready to win her anchor, Mullins turned to Gunner Nelson and asked him if he had any thoughts of when his wife might return. Nelson did not. “Captain, she may come to the dockside in a minute, or it may be days before she returns. Captain Hodges was always very lenient with her coming and going. I always told her that this might not always be, and the ship might sail without her someday. She said that, unlike others, Captain Hodges was a gentleman who knew how to treat a lady.”

  Having heard enough, Centaur’s new captain ordered his first officer, “Unmoor!”

  As the liner gingerly made her
way through the crowded harbor, a wherry was seen approaching. Her crew was straining at the oars, and a woman standing in the stern sheets was waving her bonnet at them. The boat was just able to reach Centaur before she left the confines of the harbor. A bosun’s chair was lowered for Nelson’s wife, and she was swung aboard.

  When Gunner Nelson approached his wife, Mullins expected to hear him admonish his wife for her tardiness, but instead she began upbraiding him for attempting to leave without notifying her. Mullins was struck by the contrast between the pair. Nelson, was an almost aged man, one who had been at sea for decades. Mrs. Nelson, while no longer a blooming beauty, was still a fine specimen of woman-hood, and he could see the reason why the hands were glad to see her aboard.

  While the ship made her way out to sea, Mullins went into his cabin to see what he had for the first time. He found his sleeping quarters alone were more spacious than the entire cabin on some previous ships he had commanded. Chintz curtains complemented the stern windows, while painted sailcloth covered the deck. Old blades and firelocks decorated the bulkheads, while a tawny tomcat paced suspiciously about. Its odor permeated the space.

  A wizened little man appeared and Joshua Meadows introduced himself as the captain’s servant.

  Mullins asked, “Meadows, this cat stinks! What can be done with him?”

  Meadows looked dubious. “Sir, the cat belongs to Captain Hodges, who sets great store with the beast. He would never listen to anyone who suggested leaving him ashore.”

  “Well, he can’t stay in the cabin. I must entertain guests here and I could not subject them to the smell.”

  Meadows nodded sagely. “Well sir, we could send him up forward, but the hands would not stand for him pissing all over their kit. They would put him over the side in a minute. Then, where would we be when Captain Hodges comes back? The cable tier might do. Plenty of rats down there for him to chase and we could let him back up when the old captain comes back.”