It was with some surprise when the chase was seen to come about and back her tops’ls, waiting for them, accepting combat.
Soon after, the maintop lookout reported first one new sighting ahead and then another. Immediately, a pair of midshipmen scurried aloft with their glasses to examine the new strangers. The mids reported one to be a ship, while the other was a brig. Closing, the ship was revealed as a merchant, slow and heavy. The brig however, seemed to be a warship, perhaps a privateer.
The presumption was the brig was an escort to the ship. Probably both were under civil ownership, while the frigate would be a French national ship of war. Perhaps she hoped the privateer would assist her in fighting this British frigate. The frigate would have had the pair in sight long before the Active’s lookout spotted them. The brig, in conjunction with a thirty-two gun frigate, should be able to defeat a thirty-two gun British frigate handily.
The officers aboard Active discussed these possibilities, although Phillips put little stock in the probability of the brig assisting the frigate in any fight. If the brig was privately owned, as Phillips suspected, her owners would be unwilling for her to incur expensive damage in any fight with a British warship. Privateers were expected to return to port with valuable prizes, which could be sold for profit. A private ship returning with expensive damage and no prize would be operating at a pure loss.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
As Active closed on the enemy frigate, she was seen to be repeatedly signaling the retreating vessels. Phillips expected some unkind words were being used on the quarterdeck of the French frigate to describe the captain of the retreating brig. The enemy frigate’s captain however, was doing his duty, attempting to delay the British frigate until his charges made their escape.
At length, the enemy stripped down to fighting sail and came about to meet Active. The two frigates were approaching bows on, with each attempting to position itself in an attempt to gain the windward position.
At long-gun range, on Active, Phillips had the helm put over in an attempt to make his essay upon the enemy. The forward portside guns began their thunder, with the enemy making her turn also, Soon both ships were broadside to broadside at long range, both slamming out their volleys at each other. The enemy captain was a believer in disciplined broadsides, and the French frigate hers as regularly as a metronome. No doubt the results would have been more effective, had the two antagonists been closer. As it was though, the beautifully timed broadsides churned up the sea all around Active, with only one lone ball clipping a clew line to her fore tops’l causing her injury.
Active’s gunners, in turn, fired deliberately, as trained, only after aligning each individual gun on target. Watching the enemy closely, Phillips saw impact splashes all around the target, but also saw some hits. He guessed the enemy frigate may have been struck with as many as six balls of that first exchange. The intense training the gun crews had been given began to bear fruit, as the guns were re-loaded and fired again well before the enemy was ready. The Frenchman continued, at first, firing by disciplined broadsides, but eventually changed to firing her guns individually as the cumulative damage from the accurately pointed guns of the British frigate began to mount.
The damage was not one-sided. On board Active, a pair of round shot arriving simultaneously, killed two men on the quarterdeck. One was a helmsman, the other a promising midshipman standing next to his captain in order to relay messages. Midshipman Reynolds, standing nearby with his glass aimed at the enemy, was sprayed with blood from his slain mate.
Looking at the enemy however, the lad saw the main top mast collapse, broken right at its base. A sudden flurry around the helm suggested some major injuries or damage there. Active’s gun crews were working like automatons, loading and firing at a furious pace, a pace Phillips knew could not be maintained for any length of time. A word to Mister Reynolds brought over the men stationed on the opposite side guns to relieve some of the exhausted gunners.
The enemy was concentrating fire upon the sails and rigging, and these were being reduced to rags and tatters, but the enemy was having its own problems. Many of Active’s rounds were smashing into the opponent’s hull, and the Frenchman’s firepower was being steadily reduced as guns were put out of action and men and equipment were depleted. The enemy’s crew had obviously not been trained well in firing accurately at longer distances, and this was becoming all too evident. In addition, Active’s guns were fired at a rate of three shots for every two of the Frenchman, in effect increasing the firepower of the British frigate.
When the enemy’s mizzen was struck just below the mizzen top, Phillips thought the fight might be coming to an end. When that mizzen came down into the sea, the frigate came to a halt. Dragging the immense sea anchor, she lay helpless in the troughs of the waves. Although Active’s sails were in tatters, she still possessed enough way to forge ahead and station herself on the enemy’s bow, threatening her enemy with a bow rake. A moment later, bowing to the inevitable, the tricolor came down and the fight was over.
There was not a moment to rest however. The merchantman and its escort were nearly out of sight and a vast amount of work needed to be done on both Active and its prize. Active’s boats were filled with armed seamen and Marines and sent to the prize frigate, found to be the National frigate, Lutine. More men were sent aloft to set Active’s rigging right.
During this feverish activity, Lutine lay under Active’s guns, but as matters became more settled on both ships, Phillips allowed Mister Reynolds to take charge of the prize, while he tended to Active. Lutine’s officers and senior petty and warrant officers were brought aboard Active, and the prize’s seamen put below decks in Lutine. In the hurry, young Midshipman Reynolds was left aboard Active.
The sun had set by the time Active was ready to sail again. The two chase ships were long out of sight. Phillips knew he was taking a chance, but ordered Reynolds to take Lutine into Plymouth and set sail by himself to try to locate the two vessels that had escaped. Since they had appeared to be on course for Brest, he told Mister Fitzwilliam to make for that port while he supervised the repairs to the rigging.
The sail locker was emptied as the shot-torn canvas was brought in, and the sailmaker and his crew worked through the night making repairs. It was an exhausted crew that saw the sun rise the next morning. The French coast was in sight, but so was their quarry. The brig and the merchant, under all plain sail were leisurely making their way toward Brest. As soon as the brig’s lookouts spotted them, her crew hung out all the canvas she had, and without hesitation made off for home, leaving the merchant behind.
The merchant’s captain made a race out of it, but she was heavy and slow and was overtaken long before coming in range of Brest’s defensive guns. The merchant let fly her sheets as Active came alongside and fired a gun. Her former escort was at that moment entering the defenses of the port. The captain of the ship Commerce d’Orleans was livid at the abandonment and assured Phillips at their meeting aboard the merchant that when exchanged, he would bring that privateer captain before a court to explain his cowardice.
At any rate, the ship had a valuable cargo. She was loaded with rice from Louisiana and had contracted with a privateer captain he had met there to escort his ship home. Fortunately, he said, he had only paid half of the agreed sum, and he was going to try to recover that half plus the value of his ship and cargo. M. Lavoisier was certain that French justice would right the wrong that had been done to him.
As matters were being attended to, topsails were sighted offshore. After both ships were made ready to flee, a sharp-eyed signal midshipman was able to read the signal flags of the leading ship. It was Commodore Malcom and his fleet.
Malcom was much more gracious than he had been the last time they had met. The sailing barge had made port with her cargo and now this capture would make the wealthy commodore even wealthier with his share of the prize money.
HMS Active had been punished rather badly in her action with Lutine and C
ommodore Malcom was most obliging in giving his permission for her to return back to Portsmouth. She would escort the merchant as well.
On the way, they came upon Lutine, trying to erect a jury mizzenmast. As it happened, the merchant did have a spare spar aboard that would serve the purpose. With the ships almost within sight of Cornwall, the merchant was sent on ahead while Active remained behind to assist Lutine. Young Reynolds was sent over to his father to learn the intricacies of rigging a ship at sea. A day later, the exhausted crews of both warships had erected the mizzen and Lutine was seaworthy again.
Both frigates entered Portsmouth where he learned the merchant had safely entered Plymouth and was now in the hands of the prize court. There was much exhilaration in the port over the capture of Lutine, and Phillips learned he was going to lose his first lieutenant. Reynolds was to be made post and command Lutine as soon as she was whole again. Phillips spent an hour with the harried new post captain to get his wishes as to the boy. Phillips believed the lad would make a useful petty officer and offered to keep him aboard Active. Captain Reynolds however wished to keep the boy with him and decided to allow Midshipman Reynolds to keep his rate aboard Lutine.
Phillips was occupied with getting HMS Active seaworthy again. She had been much beaten about on her commission thus far and needed a great deal of work. He was called away by signal flags from the tower on shore. He was to meet immediately with Admiral Bickerton. Somehow, he had not anticipated this summons, and he was rushed into the boat with his servant wiping the last of the shaving soap from his face. An inadvertent nick from the razor had left a bloody splotch on his face. Not wanting to go before the admiral with a plaster on the wound, he dabbed his handkerchief in the cold seawater on the way ashore and managed to stop the bleeding. He could blame the wet clothing on spray coming aboard.
Bickerton acted delighted to see him. He realized at once that Phillips had been wounded while being shaved and insisted on calling his personal surgeon to set matters right. Phillips had an early lunch with the admiral and learned that Government wanted to have its will with him. There was talk of a knighthood, possibly even a peerage.
Matters had not quite been decided there, so it was felt, since Active would be in the dockyard for some time, it might be best for Phillips to return to his estate to rest for a bit, while the politicos decided how they were to use his exploits to further their own careers.
With instructions that he need not be concerned about returning for another month, Phillips spent the afternoon and night on the mail coach to London and enjoyed a few days rest in his parent’s town house there. His coach was still there, so he arranged for horses and set out for his own estate in Essex.
By changing horses at every posting inn it was a fast run back home, but the constant jolting was extremely tiring. He had meant to stop at his parent’s estate but it was late when the coach arrived so he decided to go on to his own home and visit them when he had recovered from the trip. Everyone was abed when the carriage rolled up in his drive and the house was dark. Repeated banging on the door brought a frightened girl to the door, who refused to open it.
Minutes later, repeated banging brought the retired Sergeant Major he retained to oversee the household. Armed with a huge horse pistol and backed up by the pot boy armed with a Brown Bess musket bigger than the lad, the one-legged veteran apologized profusely and welcomed him home.
The former soldier attempted to show him some letters that had come in the post, but Phillips waved them off. All he wanted right now was to get in his bed.
The lass was sent scurrying to make up his bed, and after downing a double tot of brandy, Phillips retired. He rose the next morning to the smell of breakfast cooking. He did not retain a cook since he was absent so much of the time, but the Sergeant Major had called in a neighbor woman to do the honors. He had meant to sleep all morning, but the aroma drifting up the staircase drove him out of bed.
Someone had brought up his sea chest and it stood beside the bed, his clothing already removed and a freshly pressed uniform laid out, along with some well-worn comfortable civilian clothing, in case he wished to dress informally. Water, almost warm, was in a pitcher by the washstand, and a quick wash and shave made him presentable.
Descending the spiral staircase, he was ready to do justice to the breakfast whose aroma he had sensed. Mrs. Daniels was the cook, a woman from the village that Phillips had met now and again. She had been called over to tend to the house while Phillips was in residence.
After demolishing the eggs, rashers of bacon and the huge slice of ham put before him, Mrs. Daniels brought over a silver salver with some letters. Only two were of interest, one from Lord Forsythe, and another addressed in a feminine handwriting.
Curiosity drove him to open that one first, and he was mildly disturbed when he read it. It was from Dorothy Hamilton, the woman who had brought about the duel that had caused a young man to lose his leg.
It was a rambling letter, filled with misspelled words and awkward phrases telling him how sorry she was that her anger at being rejected had led her to incite that duel. She was sure they could put that episode behind them and she would be the most loving wife he could imagine. She then spent a paragraph informing him of her everlasting adoration and of her excitement at the honors she had learned his bravery had won.
Shaking his head at such nonsense, he opened the letter from Forsythe. This one was more ominous. It seemed some fellow officers in the same militia troop as the Lieutenant Ranson who had called him out, were dis-satisfied with the outcome of the duel. These officers had apparently made a pact to call him out one after another until he was in his grave.
Forsythe had gone to Horse Guards about the matter, and the officers had been warned any officer taking part in this plot should sell his commission immediately, as well as expect to be tried for murder if their plan should succeed. Lord Forsythe thought the plan had been thwarted for now, but it might be well if Phillips remained clear of London for the near future.
Phillips’ good horses were over at the Norris estate where they could get regular exercise, but there were a pair of cobs that the handyman used for pulling the cart.
The horses he had driven home last night needed rest, so he had the cobs harnessed to his carriage and was driven off to see Charlotte Norris to see what she might have to say about this matter.
Both Charlotte and his sister Abigail had a good laugh when he was driven up in his fine carriage hauled by a pair of farm cobs. The laughter vanished later, over a glass of cider in the kitchen, when Phillips produced the two letters.
His sister was the most animated, wishing women were allowed to challenge other women to duels. She would like to call this Dorothy out. Charlotte was more matter of fact, wondering what he planned to do about the matter.
“I plan to do nothing, really. I came here to relax, and relax I will. I have no intention of seeing this Hamilton woman and will not answer her letter. Regarding these officers, as far as I know, I have met none of them before and plan to ignore them.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
As the weeks went by, Phillips put the matter out of his head. Several other letters had arrived from Miss Hamilton, all of them ignored. The village church was sponsoring a dance and Phillips received a call from the rector. He wondered if Phillips was planning on attending. It seemed several mothers of eligible young ladies were hoping to introduce their blooming flowers to this naval hero.
Phillips explained to the rector the difficulty he had found himself in at the last dance he had attended, and he wished no more trouble of that kind. The rector admitted that Miss Hamilton would be at the dance and that she had asked him to encourage the naval officer to attend.
On the evening of the dance, Phillips found himself over at the Norris home. In addition to her own estate, Charlotte also owned other properties around the county. An old friend of his youth was there. Mister Peabody was the manager of one of Charlotte’s properties, and if rumors were to be be
lieved, the father of Charlotte’s child. At one time, Peabody had been his father’s Master at Arms aboard his command. After the back slapping and salutations were over, Peabody introduced him to a pair of old mates he had sailed with years ago.
These men were off a frigate now anchored in the Nore. Their captain had sent them ashore with a recruiting party to try to entice some of the locals to sign on. They had gathered a few itinerant farm laborers, but still needed a few more hands to satisfy their captain.
Peabody accompanied his mates out to the barn where their catch of recruits was stowed, then came back in the house. Everyone was sitting around the table addressing the mugs of cider in their hands when the maid came to the table and reported that Captain Phillip’s potboy was at the door with a message.
The boy had ridden a pony hard to get to the place. When Phillips saw the animal standing with his legs splayed out and covered with foam, he assured the boy that was the last horse he would ever ride from his stable.
The lad stuttered that two drunken men had come to his door threatening to kill Captain Phillips. The Sergeant Major had told him to ride as hard as he could to warn the Captain. Charlotte took over. She summoned some of her hands as well as Peabody to go with Phillips, issuing arms to anyone without weapons. Peabody summoned his mates to come with them, although they would ride in the carriage, wishing to have nothing to do with riding horses. Their catch of recruits was left in the barn with a jug of rum, guaranteed to keep them there until their master’s returned.
Phillips mounted one of Charlotte’s blooded hunters, carrying one of her engraved fowling pieces. Off they went in a clatter, the carriage following behind. At the Phillips’ place, they found three men out in front with a woman. One young man was sprawled on the ground, apparently drunk, from the smell of him. Another sat on the ground, his back against a tree, drunk too, but conscious. Covering them was the Sergeant Major with his enormous musket. A determined Mrs. Daniels stood guard with the horse pistol.
Ships of Oak, Men of Iron: A Tim Phillips Novel (War at Sea Book 10) Page 11