A War by Diplomacy

by John G. Cragg

  Giles wished that the festivities were already over. While he looked forward to pitting Glaucus against the Russian frigates, the social events surrounding the competitions inspired no pleasant anticipations in him. Indeed, he had had his fill of Russian celebrations, enough to last him a lifetime. He was still feeling the ill effects of the last several bouts of drinking. The prospect of more had no appeal whatsoever. Of course, he would also have to let his crew have more time ashore, especially if they won, and that would be good for neither their discipline nor their health. Dr. Maclean, Glaucus’s surgeon, had already reported several new cases of the clap and the pox. Clearly, a number of seamen had succeeded in getting ashore in St. Petersburg without its being discovered, until the telltale maladies revealed themselves. Most distressful to him was that two of the patients were Midshipman Stewart and Lieutenant Hendricks. How was he going to explain Midshipman Stewart’s problem to his family if he saw them on his return to England? Lieutenant Hendricks illness made him all the more glad that he had refused the assignations with Countess Donskaya.

  It was now too cold for the Admiral to hold a large reception on his quarterdeck the night before the competition, but with all the important people who had come to witness the encounter, he was bound to throw a lavish dinner and Giles would be bound to attend. Hopefully, Glaucus’s officers would not be invited, so that only he would have a fuzzy head when the trials began. Furthermore, he wished that his rival captains would also be invited. He was right on the first count, but not on the second. He was the only competitor present. To his dismay, he was seated next to the Princess, whose name he still had not mastered, on the one side, and to Countess Donskaya on the other. To make things even more awkward, the Princess’s husband, whose name was just as indecipherable as was his wife’s and strangely different, was seated across the table from him.

  It rapidly became evident that neither lady had lost interest in Giles. He couldn’t help wondering how much of a danger to his health either one might be. In any case, the Countess, still corseted in the old-fashioned way, and still sporting a ridiculous headdress in which Giles suspected that the mice still nested, was far less attractive. Her peculiar appearance made it easier to follow up on the realization that even a mild flirtation with her might get him into a very awkward situation. He reckoned that it would be wiser to devote most of his attention to the Princess. It was pleasant flirting with a handsome woman when there was no danger of its going farther. However, both ladies were certainly prepared to go much farther than verbal sparring with him, as their conduct indicated, but he trusted that the presence of the Prince would protect him from the Princess. It seemed that through at least half the dinner one lady’s hand or the other one’s was running up and down his thigh. At one point, he was afraid that their fingers might collide with each other as they both worked to arouse him, all too successfully.

  As the party broke up, Giles found himself standing next to the Prince. “I understand that you brought Sir Walcott to St. Petersburg, Captain,” the Prince remarked. He spoke excellent English with only a mild accent though he spoke with a slight lisp.

  Giles replied in the positive, wondering where this conversation might be leading. Had Sir Walcott insulted the Prince? From the many mentions of Sir Walcott that Giles had heard from other Russians, Giles was expecting a complaint. However, that was not the case here.

  “That is true, Prince,” Giles replied, suddenly realizing that his failure to capture the Prince’s name might be an embarrassment. “Have you met Sir Walcott?”

  “Yes, indeed. Splendid fellow! Did you know that he has left the Embassy and is now a guest at our palace. Such a fine man! If you need to contact him, that is where you will find him. Indeed, why don’t you come to dinner next Thursday? We are easy to find. Everyone knows the palace of Prince Gruzinsky. Don’t you agree, my dear?” the Prince continued, now addressing his wife.

  “Alexander Georgovitch, that is an excellent suggestion, but you forget that we have commitments next Thursday. Maybe in the following week. I will check my diary, Captain.”

  The following day dawned cloudy with a raw, high wind blowing from the north. To the west, ominous black clouds were towering. Though well protected, the ships in the anchorage were swaying jerkily, tugging on their anchor cables like dogs trying to shake off their leashes. It did not promise to be a comfortable day for the land-based nobles who were intent on viewing the competitions.

  Admiral Stroganoff in the Alexander Nevsky led the way out of the anchorage, followed by Glaucus and the three Russian competitors. Most of the rest of the Russian warships that had been at anchor at Kronstadt anchor trailed along behind, keen to have the boredom of harbor duty eased by the widely anticipated tournament.

  The plans for the gunfire part of the day’s activities called for the frigates to be anchored in line ahead by both fore and aft anchors to hold them steady. At the end of the line would be the flagship anchored at right angles to the frigates so that the many people crowded onto her decks could get a good view with no danger of being hit by an errant ball. All the other yachts and boats that had come to watch the fun would be on the safe side of the line.

  At a signal from the flagship, a red flag breaking out at the mizzen cap, the broadside competition would begin. Each frigate would start with its guns bowsed* up tight to their sides and their powder in their magazines. Clearing for action had been abandoned as part of the competition when it was recognized how great were the differences in the amounts of material to be stowed on the various frigates. Umpires made sure that no one got started ahead of time. Admiral Stroganoff had warned all the competitors that he might send up other colored flags as a jest, so that they would have to wait for the flag to break out at the cap before proceeding. Indeed, he did sent up a black flag before the red one. None of the ships was fooled.

  Midshipman Stewart had the duty to watch the cap with a telescope and to shout out the minute that he could see the color. His shout of “red” set off a bustle of crew members going about their assigned tasks as quickly as possible. Giles’s crew had no need of orders as they cast off the lashings on the cannon and ran them back so that they could be loaded. The powder monkeys exerted all their efforts to get the cartridges to the guns as quickly as they could. In went the cartridges, followed by the wads, followed by the balls, followed by another set of wads. The gunners pierced the cartridges and primed the gun, the crews jumped back as the gunners pulled the lanyard to make the sparks that would ignite the gunpowder. Giles had ordered each gun to fire as soon as it was ready.

  It spoke volumes for the training of the crew that the guns fired in the fusillade within seconds of each other, as if a simultaneous broadside had been ordered. Even as each gun crew rushed to ready their weapon for the next shot, Giles looked at his competitors. None had fired a single gun when Giles’s fastest gun crew started to haul their cannon into firing position. All of Glaucus’s second salvo had been fired before all the Russian frigates had completed their first rounds. His crew did not pause to see how their performance compared with their rivals. The third balls were all away before any of Glaucus’s rivals had fired their second. Shooting better than three salvos to a rival’s two in actual combat was considered extremely good and this performance was a bit better than that. There could be no doubt about who won the first trial.

  Just as the smoke from the last broadside drifted downwind, the eighth bell of the forenoon watch rang, though no one heard it. A glance at the glass told Giles it was past the time for the crew to have their tots of rum and dinner. The rum was much appreciated, but Giles was not about to let the sailors have a double portion, as he might have done had this been the only competition. The last thing he needed was inebriated men and he knew that with double tots some of the more abstemious men would give their extra rum to their messmates. He had no desire to have any drunken crew members when it came to the race.

  It would have been impossible to have the crew eat their usual d
inner in the time available, especially as one of the requirements of the preparations for the cannon fire was that the cook-stove had to be doused*. Instead, Giles had ordered a large supply of Russian pies that were baked in Kronstadt. Lieutenant Pirov had introduced him to them and he had arranged for enough pies to be delivered to the ship before she cast off that morning. Though he didn’t really know the name of the confections, he did know that their first syllables sounded like ‘Pirov’, so he was able to remember at least part of the name of the delicacy. The crew seemed to be very doubtful of this special dinner of pierogis, but after a few daring members had tried the pies and found them tasty, though in a somewhat foreign way, they all tucked in with gusto.

  The wind had been steadily rising as the morning had progressed. Now it was blowing a near gale. Giles had used the royals on his journey to St. Petersburg, but had ordered these sails, with their yards and masts struck below on the short trip from Kronstadt, after he had seen what sort of a day it promised to be. Now he even wished that he had struck the topgallants below as well. The rival Russian frigates still had the rigging for the royals in place. Giles knew that his caution would make Glaucus sail better in these conditions and suspected that the extra top-hamper would slow the others. As soon as the tricky sail handling that might be needed at the start of the race was over, he would have the topgallant sails and spars sent down.

  The course had been laid out as a roughly diamond-shaped track with each side being about two miles in length. The race involved going around the course twice, staying outside the boats that had been dispatched to mark the three outer corners. The starting line and finishing line was between the Alexander Nevsky and a brig that had anchored close to the Admiral’s vessel. Too close, in Giles’s opinion. He hung back to avoid being fouled by one of the Russian frigates, a precaution that was soon shown to be warranted. Two of the Russian ships did become entangled with each other. They rapidly drifted out of the way so that Glaucus could slip by close to the flagship. The frigate that had crossed the line first was laboring under having set too much sail, and Giles quickly got to windward of her. There was now no question of who was the faster ship. Tack by tack, Glaucus pulled away. If there was a race in progress for which there was any doubt of the outcome, it was the one for second place. The last two Russian ships had got loose of each other and they seemed to be closing on the frigate that Giles had already passed.

  The wind was backing and strengthening and a nasty cold rain was starting to be blown into the face of everyone on deck. Giles had designated Mr. Brooks to deal with handling Glaucus since he was by all odds the best officer at getting the most from the frigate.

  “Take another reef* in the mizzen topsail and douse* the fore staysail.* Quartermaster, steer for the marking ship. The wind’s backing. Mr. Miller, adjust the sheets, we are now steering a course to the marker ship,” the Master ordered. The ship was eased immediately from sailing as close hauled as she could be and a noticeable gain in speed occurred. They sped forward with the second lieutenant giving a string of largely unnecessary orders since the crew already knew how to set the sails to maximize performance.

  Glaucus raced around the first mark, but the backing of the wind meant that the next leg of the course was now a beat to windward, not the close reach that they had expected. As the ship tacked towards the next mark, the wind kept increasing so that it was now blowing a full gale. Mr. Brooks kept reducing sail as the wind continued to increase, and Giles noted that he did it in advance of the Russian frigates that seemed to be mistakenly thinking that waiting to reduce canvas would somehow speed their own progress.

  Glaucus rounded the next mark and proceeded down the third leg of the course on a reach with the helmsman steering a course and Mr. Miller constantly adjusting the sails. The increase in the wind and its backing had produced a nasty chop of waves, so they were not speeding along as fast as they would want. Nevertheless, they were rapidly pulling away from the closest Russian frigate, which was still making heavy weather of tacking up the second leg. If there was a close competition going on at all, it was between the last two frigates. The third one seemed to be using rather haphazard changes of course to prevent its rival from passing it. They were both carrying too much sail for the conditions and their stability and their ability to progress towards the next mark were thwarted by not having reduced their top-hamper when it would still have been easy to do so.

  It was now blowing a full gale. As Glaucus approached the final mark, Giles noticed that most of the private boats had left the anchorage. The few that remained were straining at their anchor lines, as were the ships of the Russian fleet. The deck of the flagship was no longer jammed with onlookers. The fashionable crowd must have taken refuge below decks, and Giles idly wondered how many of them were being seasick. Glaucus was handling the blow without trouble and his crew were used to keeping their stations in all weathers. They were not at all bothered by the increasing storm. The British frigate rounded the final mark, with Giles waving to the few people remaining on the flagship’s deck and headed off towards the first mark again, now on a reach. The nearest Russian frigate was only on the third leg, coming up towards the next marker, and the other two were battling it out and had yet to round the second mark. They would have to hurry or else Glaucus might lap them.

  Disaster struck as the trailing pair of Russian frigates came up to the second mark. The one that was slightly ahead and to windward of the other one had its main topmast break under the weight of canvas being carried. Giles had already noted that for some unknown reason her captain had been reefing his mainsail rather than his topsail, and the wind was such that both should have been heavily reefed already. If there was to be disparity, in Giles’s view it was the topsail that should have been reefed or even furled, as Glaucus’s now was. Having the main topmast go by the board meant that all control of the frigate was lost and she swerved into her rival.

  Giles could clearly see men falling from the yards of the Russian vessel as a result of the collapse of the rigging and the collision. He would not be surprised if many other men had been thrown overboard from the decks and yards of the ships. The rule of the sea, which had been ingrained into him as a midshipman, took over. “Mr. Brooks, make a course to the two Russian ships now! We may be useful in the rescue attempts.”

  A string of orders had Glaucus on her new course immediately. Giles wondered whether there was much chance of survival for the men who had been flung into the frigid water, but he had to try his hardest to rescue them. The wind had backed a little more and sailing close-hauled on the starboard tack meant that Glaucus could come to the spot from which the tangled frigates were now drifting without having to come about again. Nevertheless, it would be many, many long minutes before they could reach the relevant area where survivors might be found in the water. Mr. Brooks was ordering the sails trimmed even more carefully than when racing in order to squeeze every last knot out of Glaucus, and Mr. Correll was having a gang of seamen ready boats for launching as quickly as possible when they reached the relevant area. As they were undertaking that task and the sail-handlers labored to pull every extra foot for their ship, Giles and much of the crew could only stand idly by.

  Giles turned his attention to the Russian frigate that had been in second place. He had presumed that she would also have ceased racing to come to the aid of her countrymen, but no, she was keeping to her course to reach the flagship, which would be her next mark. Giles was surprised, but it did not weaken his resolve to offer help.

  Mr. Brooks was wringing every possible bit of speed out of Glaucus, but every wave breaking over the bow seemed to slow them. Finally, they reached the area where men had gone into the water. Despite the large, chaotic waves, all the boats were lowered to look for victims. The boats crisscrossed the area, and found in all thirty-one men. Unfortunately, four of those died even before they could be brought on board Glaucus. The others were rushed below, out of the wind, stripped of their clothes and wrapped
in hot blankets that the cook had prepared. Dr. Maclean went from one case to another and back again, instructing where the many eager helpers should rub to try to restore circulation in the shivering victims. It was some time before the surgeon could declare success in all cases and was able to return on deck to report to the captain.

  The two Russian frigates had succeeded in untangling themselves and were in need of no further assistance from Glaucus. Giles turned his attention to the race. To his surprise, the leading Russian frigate had continued along the race path. It was well into the second circumnavigation of the course. Giles was half inclined to head for the next marker his ship needed to round to continue the race. His fear that his rival now had too much of a head start turned out to be moot after he noticed that the race was finished. The Alexander Nevsky appeared to have dragged her anchor and was drifting down on the brig that had been anchored to form the other end of the starting and finishing line. Through his telescope, Giles could see that the smaller ship was raising its anchor. A burst of signals from the flagship told the other marker ships to up anchor and to seek protection. It also, no doubt, ordered the frigate, which was still racing, to seek shelter. Giles concluded that he should do the same He ordered Mr. Brooks to head down wind towards the southern passage between Kotlin Island and the mainland. Only when they were well into the passage did the waves moderate and the wind weaken a little. Even when they were safely anchored at the Kronstadt Naval Harbor, gusts still whistled through the rigging and caused Glaucus to pitch uncomfortably and to tug erratically at her anchor rode.