Many of the crew were cursing the pirates “Come on you bastards, attack us, we’re ready.” The simpleton Biggins was jumping about waving a cutlass and shouting his hate of the French, indeed he did the same when any enemy ship appeared. “Belay that noise down there”, bellowed the first lieutenant, “You officers, can’t you keep your men quiet?”
Merriman was watching the approaching ships with a keen eye, judging their speed and then he shouted “Top men aloft, get the courses in, Mr. Green, get below and warn the officers that we shall open fire at my command, both batteries.” He waited a few moments longer looking down on the gundeck, seeing the officers in command there, Weston and Merryweather with their swords raised, then shouted “Ready men, run out and fire as your guns bear.”
The frigate showed her teeth as the gun ports opened and the black muzzles of the guns appeared. The leading ship, the largest of the four with a French Tricolour flying beneath the red flag at the top of the mast, immediately turned away but too late, and the frigate’s full starboard broadside, the guns firing in turn as the enemy came in sight of each gun captain, hit the pirate ship hard, the main mast abruptly folded in half and the grapeshot tearing bloody paths through the screaming men. On the larboard side the guns almost blew the first of the two dhows into pieces with shot holes appearing at the water level. It immediately began to sink, slowly turning on its side with the crew sliding down the sloping deck into the sea. The remaining two moved away out of range of the guns, but not before some of the frigate’s rapidly loaded guns scored some hits. They began to circle round, maybe in the hope of picking up some of their unfortunate fellows, but finally turning and going away.
Merriman called out, “That was well done lads, two of them are sinking and two of them are leaving but with this light wind we will never catch them. Mr. Weston, have a boat lowered and see if there are any survivors. Keep the lookouts aloft and we shall not secure from action stations. It is beginning to go dark and there is no knowing what may happen overnight. Release the men by their sections in turn for food but they must stay by their guns. Mr. St. James, stand your marines down but keep them ready.” The ship’s boat returned with only three rescued and terrified survivors aboard and Merriman ordered them to be secured below. Lieutenant Weston reported that there were no other survivors, only bodies with sharks rapidly disposing of them.
In the event, nothing happened overnight and once the morning light had strengthened enough to see to the horizon with not a sail in sight, the men stood down from action stations and the normal routine of shipboard life continued, until early one morning as the watch was changing, before dawn light had begun to colour the horizon, a chorus of shouts and curses rang out from where the crew’s hammocks were crammed together on the lower deck. Lieutenant Shrigley, the officer of the watch, immediately sent a midshipman to the warrant officers berth to bring them on deck. He walked along the starboard gangway almost to the fo’c’sle when a group of shouting men appeared below him with another man fighting and struggling in their grip.
“Belay that fighting you men, at once, what is the trouble about?” He looked behind him to see the ship’s Master at Arms Gillow and two of his corporals followed by members of the duty watch, all agog to know what was going on.
“Please Sir, we’ve caught a thief Sir, caught ‘im going through me mate’s ditty box, thought we were all asleep ‘e did.”
“Right then, Master at Arms, take charge of this man and put him where the others can’t get at him, we‘ll have an enquiry later. You other men get below.”
As the wretched man was led away Shrigley realised that he was the other trouble maker, Greely, who came aboard with Smithers in Plymouth, part of the motley gang of jailbirds recruited to make up the losses incurred in the affair with the French in Ireland.
As the dawn began to colour the sky Merriman appeared on deck to take his usual morning walk on the quarterdeck. He strode up and down for the usual twenty minutes but all those on the deck knew his eye had missed nothing, from the compass bearing to the set of the sails and the state of the rigging. Lieutenant Shrigley had remained on deck even though he had been relieved by Lieutenant Merryweather as officer of the watch.
“Why are you still on deck Mr. Shrigley, Your watch has finished has it not?”
“Yes sir it has but I wished to report a small matter to you. It happened only a few hours ago but I judged it not serious enough to wake you Sir.” He related what had happened. “The Master at Arms has the man confined below Sir, he is that troublemaker Greely. I know you expected trouble from him but he is in real trouble now. Luckily we got to him before the men beat him senseless or worse.”
One of the worst things a man could do was to steal from his shipmates. A seaman had little to his name, only his knife and a few pitiful belongings important to him and kept in his personal ditty bag which was always normally regarded as private.
“Very well Mr. Shrigley, Have the Master at Arms bring him down to my cabin together with the witnesses. My compliments to Mr. Andrews and ask him to come here, you must attend as well.” Merriman hated this sort of problem caused by one rotten apple among the crew but he knew he had to deal with it promptly, but he also knew there was really only one punishment for such a crime. He was roused from his dismal thoughts by the thud of the marine sentry’s musket thumping the deck, “Master at Arms Sir.” Merriman called for him to let the men in. The burly Gillow and one of the ship’s corporals and between them the miserable Greely, ashen faced, knowing what was likely to happen to him.
Merriman stared at him for a few moments then said “I understand that you have been caught stealing from your shipmates. What have you to say for yourself? And look at me when I speak to you.”
Greely lifted his head and the malevolence in his eyes shocked Merriman. “T’were’nt me Sir, I picked up the wrong ditty bag in the dark and they said I was stealing,” replied the frightened man, “it was dark Sir, honest it was.”
“Thank you. Mr. Gillow, take him out and bring in the witnesses, one at a time.” “Aye aye Sir. There’s three on ‘em Sir.” He returned with the first man whom Merriman recognised as the ex-poacher Larkin, a man possessed of phenomenal eyesight. “Now then Larkin, Tell me what happened, and no exaggeration mind, I want the truth.” “Aye aye Sir, well it were like this. I had hardly been asleep for more than one or two hours Sir when I woke, wanting to go to the head. I came back and saw Greely with his hand in another man’s ditty bag so I shouted and woke some others and we grabbed ‘im. ‘e dropped something which we found; it was a piece of carving work and the only man who does that as good Sir is the Welshman Jones.”
“Mr. Gillow, what do you know about this?” “Well Sir this is Jones’ work, lovely it is and I know none of the other men can do such fine work although they try.” He placed the item on Merriman’s desk. “Another thing Sir, I searched his bag and found four items which some of the men recognised and claimed, having thought that they had lost them.” The other two men could only corroborate what had been said though one man said that one of the items, a small pocket knife was his. Merriman leaned back in his chair, “Thank you Mr. Gillow, these three men may go but keep Greely outside whilst we consider the evidence.”
When they had left Merriman turned to his two Lieutenants Andrews and Shrigley. “You have heard it all Gentlemen, what do you think.” They spoke almost as one, “Guilty Sir, we know he was sentenced to deportation for stealing and chose to join the navy as the only alternative he had.” “Thank you Gentlemen, I agree and we know that there is only one punishment for that crime. Mr. Shrigley, please have the prisoner brought back.”
When Greely and his two guards were again standing before him, Merriman said “Greely there is no doubt of your guilt and you know the penalty for theft. You will receive twelve lashes and have to run the gauntlet followed by twelve more lashes as soon as it can be arranged. Take him away Mr. Gillow.”
It was quickly arranged, a grating was f
astened up to which the prisoner was tied and all hands were called to witness punishment. Merriman stood at the quarterdeck rail with the officers, looking down onto the gun deck, seeing that most of the men had equipped themselves with short lengths of rope with a knot on the end. “Men, you know what happens to a thief and I see that you are ready. Mr. Brockle you may begin.”
Brockle the boatswain drew the lash from a red cloth bag and shook it out to ensure that none of the strings were tangled. At the first blow Greely squealed as red lines appeared on his back but suffered the next eleven lashes silently before being cut down, his back a bleeding mess. The crew, except for the necessary men on watch, formed themselves into twin rows on both sides of the deck each man ready with his piece of rope. Greely was pushed into his place with the Master at Arms in front of him holding his cutlass against his chest to stop him bolting and a corporal behind him to urge him forward with a sword against his back. Hesitantly he moved forward prodded into movement as his erstwhile shipmates lashed at him with their ropes. By the time he had reached the end of the second line he was staggering with his eyes shut and with his back and shoulders red with blood before he collapsed face down. Mr. McBride the surgeon examined him before calling up to Merriman, “He won’t live through another twelve lashes Sir, I know it.”
Merriman was not a cruel man and had watched with a face like stone as the punishment had continued. A horrified Midshipman Green had run to the side before being violently sick overboard. “Very well, stop the punishment. Mr. McBride, he is in your hands now. Mr. Andrews, dismiss the men.” A bucket of fresh seawater was thrown over Greely, not as more punishment but to wash him down, the salt water also acting as a harsh form of antiseptic.
The following day a light wind arrived and rapidly increased to good strong wind on their port quarter and at Merriman’s order the officer of the watch sent the Topmen aloft to let fall the courses and with men ready at the braces, sheets and bowlines the yards were hauled round to the best point of sailing to take every advantage of the wind to make good their course north.
It was not long before the wind gained in strength and soon white topped waves were breaking on the starboard side with even bigger ones in sight. Merriman crossed the deck to speak with the Master and Merryweather, the officer of the watch. “What do you think Mr. Cuthbert, will it get worse?” “Aye Sir it will. These tropical storms have a nasty habit of coming out of nowhere and finishing just as quickly but they can be vicious and many a ship has lost its topmasts by leaving it too late to reef. Quite common at this time of year, it‘s called the monsoon.”
“Thank you Mr. Cuthbert. Lieutenant, call all hands. I’ll have all the t’gallants off her and a couple of reefs in the tops’ls. Get the courses off her again, we’ll weather this under jibs and well reefed tops‘ls. Does that suit you Master?”
“Aye Sir, may I suggest extra lashings on the boats and lifelines along the deck.” The ship was beginning to roll and pitch and Merriman looked up to see the Topmen, like crows on a branch, desperately clawing at the main course as the wind increased. Eventually all was done but only just in time as the wind rose to a crescendo, shrieking through the rigging and even under minimum sail the ship heeled well over to larboard. The rain came down in sheets from the racing clouds overhead, blown sideways by the wind and all on deck were soon soaked to the skin. The Master with one of his mates and three other seamen fought the big double wheel to try and keep on course but it was difficult and Mr. Cuthbert shouted to Merriman “Sir, I think we must just run before it without the fore and mizzen tops’ls.” No sensible Captain argued with a Master as experienced as Mr. Cuthbert. “All hands Mr. Merryweather, I’ll have the tops’ls off her.”
Once again the Topmen clawed their way aloft, desperately clinging to every handhold as they fought their way out onto the yards, lying almost horizontally, their feet on the footropes with the wind doing its best to blow them away. At last it was done and as the exhausted men climbed down below Merriman ordered that every one of them be given an extra tot of grog. He stayed on deck holding on to the weather shrouds, battered by the wind and rain and almost deafened by noise of the gale’s violence. Waves and clouds of spray came over the weather rail repeatedly, soaking him even more and making it even more difficult to see anything. With the violent pitching the beakhead smashed into waves sending water cascading over the bows and the main deck whilst the few men whose duty kept them on deck clung desperately to ropes and anything solid. His cox’n Matthews tried to get him to wear a tarpaulin coat but he waved him away, shouting “It won’t help now Matthews I’m soaked already.”
After only three hours which had seemed like more, the wind abated, the rain stopped and the sun appeared low in the sky behind the racing clouds. It was as hot as ever and everything began to steam and dry. Merriman looked keenly aloft to see if his ship had sustained any damage. He saw that only one stay had parted and the boatswain even then making his way aloft with his men to effect repair. All the officers appeared on the quarterdeck chattering about the severity of the gale until a bad tempered Merriman ordered them to be quiet. “Mr. Cuthbert, set a new course for Bombay then get below and rest. Mr. Shrigley, I’ll have all plain sail set again and report to me below if there is any problem.”
A weary Merriman stumbled below to his cabin to find his two men waiting for him with towels and dry clothes. “I’m sorry Sir, there’s no hot coffee yet, the galley fire has only just been re-lit, I’ll fetch some as soon as I can,” said Peters his servant as he and Tomkins the clerk, helped Merriman out of his wet clothes. “Never mind that now,” said a weary Merriman before falling into his cot, asleep before he knew it. Peters gently covered him with a sheet before creeping quietly out of the cabin.
Chapter 6 – A French Prisoner
He awoke to see the sunlight streaming in through the big stern windows and as he listened to the usual creaks and groans of the timbers around him and the sound of bare feet on the deck above him he realised that he must have slept all night. He knew that if anything had happened he would have been woken and for a few moments more he lay there in a contented doze, thinking of some quotation he remembered from somewhere “Sleep that knit’s the raveled sleeve of care.” It had worked and the next thing he knew was Peters standing over him with a big jug in his hand. “Heard you moving Sir, Here’s some of your favourite black coffee, your breakfast will be along in a minute.
Back on his feet and fully dressed and shaven he sat at the table to watch Peters laying out breakfast. True, it was nothing special, only a strip of fried fat pork and dry ship’s biscuit crumbled and fried in the fat but the smell of it reminded him that he was ravenously hungry and it rapidly disappeared accompanied by more coffee and a satisfied Merriman felt himself again, ready for anything..
The marine sentry outside banged the butt of his musket on the deck and called “First Lieutenant Sir.” The working day had started. As Andrews appeared Merriman told him to sit down. “There’s still some warm coffee David if you want it, but tell me, is all well with the ship?” “Yes Sir, all is well. When we could inspect things properly we found a few ropes badly chafed but nothing serious and they have all been repaired. If the gale had continued longer one of the cannon might have broken loose but that has been secured and the gun captain censured Sir.”
“Very good, I’ll come up. By the way how has Mr. Grahame come through?”
“Seems to be alright Sir, he came on deck earlier. Apparently he has not suffered from seasickness as much as expected. Oh, and the Master says that we should be at our destination in only another two days. What do you want to do with the prisoners Sir, one of them is wearing the remains of a naval uniform, French I think, and is a white man, the other two are natives?”
“Very well David, have him brought up to see me.”
The prisoner in threadbare naval uniform, Pierre Dumont, was confined below decks in the same state as he was when rescued, wet through and apprehensive. The other two su
rvivors, evil looking characters, were with him and all were shackled and closely guarded by two marines with fixed bayonets and who looked ready to use them at the least excuse.
Dumont thought back over the last five or six years since he became a pirate. He had been a Lieutenant aboard a French frigate which attacked an English frigate in the Indian Ocean. Previously his ship had captured a brig of which his captain had put him in as prize master. Stupidly during the action against the frigate he got too close to the English ship, been boarded and barely managed to get back to his own frigate after being wounded in the arm by an English lieutenant. Now he was a prisoner of the English and likely to be hanged as a pirate.
His thoughts were interrupted by an officer who ordered the marines to take him on deck and escort him aft. The marine sentry banged his musket on the deck and called “Prisoner and escort Sir.” Merriman pretended to be studying some reports on his desk and kept the prisoner standing for a good five minutes whilst the man became more and more nervous, casting glances around him especially at his two marine guards. Finally Merriman looked up and silently surveyed the man. His face seemed vaguely familiar and Merriman wondered if he had met the man elsewhere before. “You are a French officer I believe, tell me why you have joined the pirates and why I should not have you hanged for piracy.”
“Oui M’sieur, My name is Pierre Dumont and I have been pirate for quatre ann-- four years since mon frigate Francaise left me and other wounded men in the Seychelles after a battle with an English ship. Mon capitaine told us he would be back for us later but the ship never came back and most of the wounded men died. I had nothing and I desperately wanted to go home but there seemed no other way to get enough money to pay for my passage home but to join the pirates. I was persuaded by a Dutchman, a pirate, who has many ships who wanted me to join him because of my knowledge of navigation. He threatened to have me killed if I didn’t join him but I was not really one of them. We thought your ship was an Indiaman.”
The Threat in the East (The Merriman Chronicles Book 3) Page 3