HMS Centaur: A Charles Mullins novel, Sea Command 8

by Richard Testrake

  With Artemis now coming up on a fresh breeze with a bone in her teeth, and Centaur ready to join in, the commander of the enemy frigate decided he had done all that honor called for, When he pulled down his colors, the battle was ended. Artemis ran down the enemy transports and added them to the bag.

  Chapter Seven

  After arriving at the rendezvous with the blockade fleet off Toulon, the transports were unloaded and makeshift repairs were performed om those ships that had suffered serious battle damage. The prize line-of-battleship Apollon, was the most severely damaged. She has been severely mauled in her hull and upper-works. It had been thought by more than a few that they would lose her before she reached safety

  Even here in calmer waters, her pumps had to be manned constantly while the many shot holes, many now under water, were sealed. Working rapidly to get her as seaworthy as possible, she was given a scratch crew and sent off to Palermo to receive further repair.

  Centaur herself was judged capable of making the voyage back to Gibraltar. She would take the empty transports back, with the assistance of Grasshopper and Goshawk. Her pumps working all the way, she reached safety without sighting a single enemy warship. In Gibraltar, she received a thorough survey and a few temporary repairs. While awaiting those repairs, he spent time ashore, touring the fortress.

  Wishing to clear the air, he walked openly about to allow Captain Godfrey or even Captain Dawson of the 89th to approach him if they would. Nothing came of it though. He learned Dawson had rejoined his regiment somewhere in the Med, while Godfrey had returned to Britain in hopes of another command. No one he met had a thing to say about the old controversy. Instead, he was asked time and again to recount the battle between Apollon and Centaur, with a few questions asked of the battle for Santiago.

  Leaving Goshawk behind, it was time for Centaur and Grasshopper to sail for Portsmouth. Joining a small convoy, they made the voyage without incident.

  There was some flurry when Mullins handed the survey reports to the Master of the Dockyard. He was chastised for taking the ship out into the Atlantic in her condition. When he reported to the flag though, he was surprised to learn he would not be going on half pay. The ship would go straight into the dockyard and he and his officers would mostly go on leave. The crew would go into the receiving ship, where most would find themselves posted to another ship.

  Lieutenant Greenwich would remain with the ship to watch over her repair. Mullins himself was ordered to post up to London where he might find himself called upon to answer questions about the previous mission. Discrete questioning failed to determine whether he was to retain command of Centaur for another commission or perhaps lose the ship when repairs were complete.

  He took the government coach to London, accompanied by a well-upholstered bureaucrat who bemoaned the number of highwaymen practicing their trade along this route. To quiet the man, Mullins took his pistol from its case and slipped it into his sash.

  This only made matters worse. The official was certain any show of resistance to robbers would result in passengers being executed summarily. Mullins himself doubted it would be wise to produce the weapon. A double-barreled pistol, the left lock-spring had lost its temper, causing the pistol to miss-fire with the port barrel, more often than not. Despite the other passenger’s fear, they reached London safely, where Mullins immediately reported to the Admiralty. There, he was told to return in a few hours.

  Deciding he did not wish to go home, only to have to leave again soon to keep his appointment, he decided to see about getting his pistol repaired. His gun maker had his shop nearby, so Mullins went there to see what he could arrange. Mister Railes, the proprietor, told him it might take several hours to make a new spring/ If he cared to wait though, Railes would check his inventory to see if he might have a spring that would fit the gun. After searching among what seemed to be hundreds of tiny parts, he came up with one he thought might serve. It did not immediately fit, but a few strokes of a file caused the part to slip into place. As Mullins paid for the work and turned to leave, Raines asked, ‘Captain I recall selling you this pistol years ago. Did I not sell you a pair?”

  Mullins then had to admit to losing one overboard in combat a few years past. Raines nodded. Opening a cabinet, he produced another weapon that could have been a twin to this one. The price was satisfactory, so without any haggling, Mullins pulled out his purse and paid for the new pistol.

  After the gunsmith loaded both weapons, Mullins stowed then in his sash, hidden under his heavy coat. It being almost time for his appointment, he must set out for the Admiralty. Nearly there, he was startled to hear a familiar squeal. It was his wife, on the seat of an open carriage, beside a woman with whom Mullins was slightly familiar. Mrs. Phelps, a neighbor, he thought.

  His own hostler was on the box and pulled the vehicle to a stop near the entrance to the headquarters building. Doris shouted, “Charles, what are you doing here?” as she jumped down.

  Mullins stepped forward to greet her but halted when they came out from between two buildings. There were four of them, rough, uncouth men, badly in need of a wash and all carrying stout cudgels. Confronting Mullins, one asked, “Captain Mullins?”

  Immediately realizing he might be in trouble, Mullins answered, “I am” even as he drew out his sword. Without a word the footpad slammed his arm with the club. The sword fell to the ground and the same felon told Doris that she should get out of the way. Mullins echoed the command, telling her to get ion the carriage and leave. By now, Mullins was surrounded by the bandits and Doris, without another word, produced a little silver pistol from her reticule and shot one of them in the belly.

  The elderly hostler, deciding matters were becoming too exciting for him, applied the whip, taking the carriage and Mrs. Phelps away, but leaving Doris and Charles Mullins behind to face the wrath of the remaining foot pads.

  Unable to reach his sword on the ground, Mullins drew one of the pistols from his sash with his left hand. The right hand was numb from the blow he had taken but he was able to thumb back the right cock of the weapon and fire its barrel at the man in front. When he fell, there was more room now, so he had time to cock the other barrel and fired at another. While this was going on, he was being belabored with savage blows from the cudgels. Only one bandit was on his feet now, but he wielded his stave furiously. Mullin’s blood was up and he did not feel any damage just yet.

  He dropped the empty weapon and tried to employ the second one in his sash. Repeated blows by oaken staves had taken their toll on his body. Somehow, his hand was not working quite correctly and he was having difficulty. The felon left on his feet was taking savage swings at Mullin’s head. Doris had dropped her empty pistol and now stooped, picking up Mullin’s sword. From her stooped position, she stabbed upwards with all her might, causing the sharp blade to penetrate deeply into the groin area of the assailant.

  The criminal dropped his club with a howl as he tried to free the blade. Concentrating carefully, Mullins cocked the second pistol and shot his foe through the head at point blank range, just before he too, collapsed in the filth of the street.

  The conflict had attracted some officers from the headquarters building, some coming with their swords drawn. These came over to assist, but by then the fight was over. The only felon left alive was the one that Doris had gut-shot, but he would depart this world as soon as the gangrene set in.

  Both Mullins and his wife were loaded into a carriage and driven home, while a pair of officers left in search of a surgeon. Unable to find one immediately, they brought back a chemist to see what he could do. Mister Brewster had heard of the Basrah method for treating broken bones and was anxious to experiment on a helpless body.

  Mullins had suffered a fractured tibia in his leg as well as a broken arm. Additionaly, numerous blows about his body had produced other wounds. Lacerations and contusions on his head caused impressive bleeding, which Brewster believed would release the humors in his body and promote healing. When appr
ised of the injuries, Brewster brought along some supplies from his shop. He had never actually seen the Basrah procedure performed, so had to find his own way. Administering a strong dose of tincture of opium to quiet his patient, he covered bandages with plaster of Paris, then wrapped the broken limbs with these, while the patient was held immobile by the officers who had carried him into the house.

  When the plaster had set, the chemist left, leaving his patient to be tended by his wife and the household staff. The hardened plaster was now holding holding the broken bone firmly in place.

  Doris had instructions to administer a few drops of the opium tincture whenever her husband became restless and she did so. When she had to leave the bedside for a few minutes, an old seaman Mullins employed for general duties about the home, stepped in. Hanson knew the best specific for any ailment was either seawater or rum. With no seawater available, rum would have to serve. He smelled the tiny bottle of laudanum left by the chemist. Its opium had been dissolved in brandy, not rum, but it would do in a pinch. There was such a small quantity left though, that Hanson knew he must step in and take care of the deficiency before Mrs. Mullins returned.

  Stepping out to the library, he came back with a bottle of best Barbadoes rum, that he had filched from his employer’s liquor supply earlier. Filling the nearly empty laudanum container with neat rum, he held Mullin’s head back and urged him to drink it down. The semi-conscious man choked on the spirit, but managed to get it down. When Doris returned, Mullins was asleep, well under the influence of the opium and alcohol.

  Late the next day, he received a visit from the magistrate who was seeing to the legal aspects of the assault. The man Doris had shot was still alive but suffering badly from the pistol ball in his gut. The magistrate thought he would die before being tried, so thought the best plan would be to just let him pass. Wanting to learn as much as the footpad could tell him before he passed, the official questioned the felon who at first refused to say nothing concerning the assault. When offered rum to ease his pain though, the individual began to talk.

  It seems he and his men had been approached by a gentleman in civilian garb who offered them money to assault Captain Mullins. His men were told to either kill Mullins or beat him so badly he could no longer command a ship. Although dressed as a civilian, the client revealed his knowledge of the sea to a member of the band who was a former seaman himself.

  The magistrate had taken down what had been said, but no names were mentioned and with the wounded criminal now on death’s door, it was doubtful if the client could be found and prosecuted.

  Despite the magistrate’s uncertainty, Mullins himself was sure of his enemy. It must be the former Captain Godfrey, attempting to take his revenge in this matter. He requested the magistrate to report his findings to the Admiralty and gave his own reasons for suspecting Godfrey.

  Of course, there was probably little chance of prosecuting the officer now, at this late date. Perhaps it might be necessary to fight this man, if only to prevent him from interfering with his families lives.

  Chapter Eight

  In a few days, the pain became bearable and he refused the laudanum which the surgeon called in from Harley Street left for him. In two weeks, he began to feel restless and wished to get up and move around without others having to carry him.

  One of the officers who had come to his aid, commanded a neat brig-sloop, moored in the Pool and visited him one day with his carpenter. By the end of that day, the carpenter, with the assistance of Hanson, had constructed a sturdy chair with wheels mounted on each leg. By pushing with his good foot, he was able to navigate quite freely around the lower floor of the house. Later, as his leg and arm healed, the carpenter made a pair of crutches which gave him still more freedom.

  He began to occupy himself with his son. Alfred was a precocious lad of four who easily became bored. The nurse that Doris hired to help care for him turned out to be a natural artist. She was illiterate, but could make realistic drawings. At first, Mullins had her do a series of drawings of items about the house, including Alfred’s cat.

  Then, Mullins began carefully composing short stories on each picture and hand lettered them carefully. Father and son began spending hours over these stories, with the boy gradually learning to read in the process. Later, under Alfred’s guidance, Mullins lettered more of his stories and the girl had to draw more pictures. Without realizing the time was passing, his limbs healed and he could soon begin taking Alfred on walks about the neighborhood.

  Before one of these walks, Doris caught Mullins refreshing the loads of his pistols. He always wore his heavy coat on these walks and had attached a cord to each pistol. By hanging the cord around his neck, with the cord running through his coat sleeves, he could carry the heavy pistols under the coat discretely. Doris had quite a tantrum about his actions, but she quieted when he asked whether she would rather he was unarmed if more footpads attacked.

  The day came when a mounted messenger pulled up at their gate and delivered a note with the Admiralty seal. That office had been informed weeks ago as to Mullin’s disability and he had his doubts whether he would ever hear anything more from the navy. They had long since taken him off active status and he had heard another captain had been given Centaur.

  This note advised him he should inform this messenger as to when he might be able to report to the Admiralty for consultation. He took the note to his desk where he carefully penned an addendum to it, saying that he would be in the Admiralty waiting room early the next morning.

  Leaving his cane behind, he was helped into the chaise the next morning and was driven to his appointment. After giving the warder his name, he waited not more than a few minutes when he was called into the main conference room. Present was the First Lord, along with a host of other functionaries.

  The air in the room was already thick from tobacco smoke. As soon as he was seated, he was offered a cigar and handed a glass of brandy. At first, the subject matter was his health and whether he wished to return to active duty. Giving satisfactory answers, one of the officials gave him some new information.

  It seemed the man Mrs. Mullins had wounded, before he died, gave a rather complete description of the person who had hired the gang to assault Captain Mullins. That description matched that of Captain Godfrey. Other evidence collected consisted of reports from several junior officers who said Godfrey, when in his cups, had bragged that soon Captain Mullins would be no more. Godfrey was notified by post after these investigations to report for an interview, but he never appeared. Warrants for his arrest had been issued, but it was suspected he had fled the country. For the time being, his name had been removed from the Navy List, and he was, to all intents and purposes, a civilian.

  Mullins was relieved the uncertainty was now over. Actually, he was just as glad Godfrey had escaped. It would have been a dreadful ordeal for Doris to handle, having to testify against the man who hired assassins to kill her husband. Too, Mullins had made enough enemies already in the Service, without making more by testifying against Godfrey. It was just as well, as long as the man was gone for good.

  After the issues were discussed at length, the First Lord asked if Mullins would accept command of Centaur again. Surprised, Mullins said he had heard mention of another captain being given command. Another official said then that it had been thought Mullins’ disability would prevent him from sailing for an extended period, so the ship was offered to Captain Whitley.

  Whitley however, after being read in, changed his mind. He said he was getting old and a long commission in a liner on blockade duty off the French coast was something he did not wish to face. Besides, he was a friend of Captain Hodges, whom Mullins had replaced. He did not care to offend his old friend so turned the ship down. Besides, he did not like this crew.

  Leaving the building with a fresh commission in his hand, Mullins was a bit suspicious of the motives of the officials. They had made much of his recent successes and said they would have to look long and hard
to find someone his equal, but Mullins realized Centaur was to depart Portsmouth harbor in a matter of days. He thought he had been selected merely because he was present and it would take too long to find a replacement.

  Both Doris and Alfred were unhappy to see him go, but the time came. He took his private coach to Portsmouth, accompanied by some stout fellows who could offer some protection in case of highwaymen. These came to the kitchen entrance several days before, looking for employment. The housekeeper was in the process of sending them away when Mullins overheard the conversation. There had been nothing to offer at the time, but room could always be found on a ship of the line putting to sea. Two of these men had agreed to sign onto his ship if there was space. The other pair said they would ‘consider the matter’ after they saw the ship.

  The coach set out at a clatter at first light. Prior arrangements had been made to have fresh horses waiting at every posting inn. It was one of the speediest trip Mullins had ever made to this destination, but also one of the most tiring. His injuries were causing him a great deal of trouble by the time they arrived.

  Centaur was lying proudly at anchor offshore, but something seemed amiss. Her mainyard was definitely askew, and there were ugly stains under the heads. Mister Greenwich had been left behind to watch over the ship, and the first officer should have returned from leave by now. Mullins knew both to be conscientious professionals, unlikely to allow the ship to fall into such a state.