The situation was equally fraught with danger on Perseus’s larboard side. Here, the topmast of the starboard frigate held the opponents apart. The top was between the ships and the mizzen topmast and especially its rigging were holding the ships apart. Their bows were closer together than their sterns, and if the French crew could cut away the rigging of the mast, their bow might be brought up to Perseus’s side. Captain Bush’s crew might be able to withstand an attack from that quarter. However, the severe pounding from her opponents’ guns, which Perseus had already taken, and the numerous musket exchanges between the ships must have wounded many of Perseus’s crew. Her captain, his friend Bush, might well not have enough men to hold back the larboard boarding party while still keeping the crew of the frigate to starboard from crossing the downed mast to fall upon Perseus’s defenders.
Giles was debating which French frigate to engage when the wind took the decision out of his hands. It had been blowing from the northwest so that Glaucus could sail towards the combat on a close reach. Now the wind backed in such a way that Glaucus could only just come up to the frigate on Perseus’s starboard side without having to tack. There was no time to tack and tack again to reach the other enemy ship. He ordered Mr. Brooks to bring the ship to the starboard side of the southern enemy ship as quickly as possible but to be sure to take enough way off her so that they could grapple and hold the ships together side to side. He ordered the deck guns to load with grape and fire as they bore. This would at least create chaos among their opponent’s crewmembers who had already moved from the larboard side of their ship in order to repel Glaucus’s boarders.
Mr. Brooks had judged the timing of backing the main topsail and ordering the others be furled to perfection. Glaucus slid close to the French frigate’s side. Grapnels* were thrown and their lines belayed. This was done just when there was enough way on her to resist the influence of the recoil from her own first broadside and the impact of the French reply so that Giles’s ship came to rest against the other frigate’s side. Glaucus’s crew immediately lashed the two ships together. Another blast of grapeshot from Glaucus preceded Giles roaring, “Boarders away.”
Giles led one boarding party and Lieutenant Hendricks another. The two forces overcame the French opposition in minutes. The French captain roared, “Je me rends.” Giles took a moment to accept the French surrender, and to delegate Mr. Correll, his third lieutenant, to take charge of the captive. However, he could not take any time to enjoy his victory.
Giles’s next step was to race to the mast-bridge that connected this frigate to Perseus. Bush had left only a small guard to prevent Frenchmen from crossing. That had been sufficient so that now, with the surrender, there was no one to prevent Glaucus’s crew from crossing via the fallen mast to their countrymen. Giles scrambled onto the mast, took a moment to get his balance and then led the way for his force to aid Perseus. In the strange super-clarity of battle, when everything seemed to slow and his immediate position became clearer even though the overall situation remained chaotic, he still found time to reflect on the foolishness of racing along a rounded surface, that of the fallen mast, when it was years since he had last walked along a ship’s yards to show off. Nevertheless, he made it across without stumbling and he was quickly followed by most of Glaucus’s crew.
A moment’s pause allowed him to realize that the other French frigate had at last been able to get its bow alongside Perseus’s. Bush was now leading his own crewmembers to try to thwart a French attempt to board, but he was being pushed back by the greater number of French sailors. Giles was rushing to lend the support of his crewmembers to those of his friend when he received a blow to his shoulder. It knocked him off his feet and in falling his head struck something solid and he lost all consciousness.
When Giles came to, he found himself propped up against something substantial, probably Perseus’s mast. His head hurt abominably and it was considerably more painful than his shoulder. Captain Bush was hovering over him looking concerned as well as exhausted.
“Wha’ ’appened?” Giles mumbled. Why couldn’t he talk clearly? How ashamed his old nanny would have been if she could hear him.
“You have taken a ball in your shoulder -- from one of their marines in their fighting top -- and you have hit your head,” Bush informed him.
“And the ba’’le?”
“Your arrival turned the tide completely. Just after you fell, your first lieutenant led the way onto the French frigate and she surrendered in short order. It was just a pity that one of the marksmen in her fighting top hit your shoulder before that occurred. The butcher’s bill was very high on Perseus, as you can imagine, but it was even higher on the French ships. Now rest easy, Richard, your surgeon is about to come to treat you properly.”
Giles blanked out again and some time must have passed before he revived to find Dr. Maclean busy cutting off the shoulder of his coat and his shirt.
“Oww! That hurts!”
“I bet it does. And it will get a lot worse before I am finished. Here, drink this. It will take the pain away and make you even woozier. It’s laudanum.”
After that, Giles again relapsed into unconsciousness and only awoke after he had been carried to the deck of Glaucus where he was sitting in a chair. He felt disoriented, but was aware that both his shoulder and his head hurt terribly.
“Ah, you’re awake again,” said Dr. Maclean. “I got the bullet out, and a couple of bits of bone it had splintered off. I hope I got all the cloth the ball carried with it into you. If I did, it should heal without any problems. If I didn’t, you may have some serious problems from the wound. I left a drain in because there will undoubtedly be some puss. There is nothing I can do for your head. It should get better over time, but try not to over-exert yourself for the time being. I know that you won’t follow that advice until everything is squared away after the battle, but I have to give it anyway.”
“What is our butcher’s bill?”
“Four seamen dead, eight wounded, three very seriously who may not live, and you, of course.”
“That is very light.”
“Aye, sir. The story is quite different on Perseus and the two French ships. Perseus lost more than half her crew, dead or seriously wounded. Two lieutenants and a midshipman were killed. Even Captain Bush took a musket ball in his arm, his good arm. Just a scratch really. And a bullet grazed his head.”
“Thank you, Dr. Maclean. I hope that Sir Walcott didn’t make too much trouble.”
“That one! I still can’t believe it. Do you know, he started by trying to get me to declare you incompetent for putting him in danger and for not taking him to England directly. I was about to order one of the loblolly boys* to restrain him when the first of the wounded was brought below. That subdued him. He was almost sick, and then he recovered. He was horrified by what he saw and offered to help. Incidentally, his two servants were in the orlop too, and they pitched in to help as well. All three of them are now helping on Perseus where the situation is much grimmer than here. I don’t think that Sir Walcott had really thought about what happens in battle and that it is not all glorious action and bugle calls. Incidentally, one of the servants asked me if I thought there was any chance of their being accepted as volunteers into your crew. I told them to ask you. Apparently, it had never occurred to them that you might be approachable. Now I have to go. Lieutenant Hendricks is waiting to see you.”
The first thing that Giles noticed when Lieutenant Hendricks entered was that his arm was in a sling.
“You are wounded, Mr. Hendricks.”
“Yes, sir. A cutlass slash as I was boarding the Reine Audu. That is the name of the second French frigate, sir. The cut is not nearly as serious as your own wounds, Dr. Maclean tells me.”
“And Glaucus herself?”
“We got off fairly lightly, sir. Some damage to the topsides and the gun deck, but nothing that the carpenter cannot repair in short order. However, there is one major problem. One of the last balls from
Jeanne Manon Roland -- that’s the name of the frigate that we engaged – hit the main mast. It tore out a large portion of the mast where it struck and also cracked what was left. It is a wonder that the mast continued standing. Mr. Evans believes that, by lashing three timbers around it tightly and by not spreading too much sail on it, the jury rig will take us safely to England. The carpenter is engaged in that work right now, but he isn’t making any guarantees. But you know how Mr. Evans is. He would only guarantee that it would hold up if he was sure that you could take it round the Horn. The Roland suffered a great deal of damage on her larboard side, and her gun deck is a shambles with her side badly damaged and many of her guns dismounted with their carriages ruined. I have Mr. Stewart and a file of marines overseeing some of the French prisoners in setting things to rights so that she can proceed, but she will also require a visit to the shipyard before she can truly sail again. We will be hard put to get her to the shipyard.
“Perseus is in no better shape. Her gun decks are a shambles and she took four shots between wind and water on her starboard side at close range. She is leaking very badly. Perseus’s pumps are barely keeping up with the water coming in. I have lent her some men to help and our portable pump. Captain Bush is preparing sails right now to fother* over the holes to reduce the intake. Hopefully that will lessen the inflow enough so that his carpenter can make some sort of repairs.
“Reine Audu suffered a great deal less though more than we did on Glaucus, except for our mast. Since Captain Bush lost two lieutenants in the fight, I have ordered Mr. Correll to take charge there with a small number of our sailors. He is effecting repairs. Her officers have given their parole, as have those of the Roland. I have most of her crew working on Perseus with Lieutenant Macauley and the rest of his marines overseeing the prisoners. They are also lending a hand where they can. We did get that fallen mast removed finally so that all four ships are rafted* together properly. That should help make sure that Perseus doesn’t sink before the worst of the leaks is covered by the sail.”
“Very good, Mr. Hendricks. Carry on. I think I shall have to sit here a minute or two more before I can oversee the work more actively.”
“Aye, aye, sir. But sir, I think you would be better in your bed. Dr. Maclean said so.”
“Damn your insolence, Hendricks! I am in command and I must stay on deck!”
Giles felt guilty about snapping at his first lieutenant, but not enough to do anything about it right away. Instead, he soon found his head nodding as his mind became more blurry and he was fast asleep in minutes.
Giles awoke to find himself in his own bed. The motion of the ship told him that Glaucus was still rafted up with the other frigates. The light coming through the stern windows indicated that it was shortly after dawn. His headache was still there, but he was thinking more clearly. He looked about to find his servant, Ferguson, asleep in a chair.
“Ferguson, you lazy creature, get me some coffee.”
The servant shook his head as he roused himself. “Can’t, sir. Dr. Maclean said to give you nothing but water when you woke up. He also told me that I should summon him the minute that happened, so that is what I am going to do now.”
Giles was reflecting that maybe he shouldn’t have appointed one of the stupidest and laziest men on board to be his servant. His choice had been based on the consideration that Ferguson would simply be in the way with any other assignment. At least, he didn’t do any harm as a servant, and could follow simple orders. But maybe Giles should look out for his own comfort for once, and not just consider the good of his ship.
Dr. Maclean came bustling in. “I see you are awake, sir. How is the head?”
“It hurts like crazy.”
“Are you disoriented?”
“No, it is not as bad as the last time I got hit on the head.”
“Good. And your shoulder?”
“Very sore. And throbbing a bit.”
“Let’s have a look.”
Dr. Maclean removed the bandages over Giles shoulder carefully, doing his best not to make easing the dried discharge from the wound cause more agony. The area around where the bullet had entered was inflamed, and it was obvious that there had been a significant amount of discharge of greenish-yellow fluid. “Not as good as I hoped, I am afraid, but it is early days. I will put a poultice on it and keep it immobile. I hope that it will heal. It is likely to be sore for some time. You also have a slight fever. You can certainly get up, but don’t let yourself get chilled. If you are tired, rest.”
Dr. Maclean helped Giles from his hanging cot before leaving. Dressing with Ferguson’s help was a problem. Giles had never realized what a large part his left arm and shoulder played in daily life. He had real difficulty adjusting his breeches so that he could button them at the waist, and fastening the flap one-handed was almost impossible. Maneuvering his shirt over his shoulder was an agony and he ended with his coat thrown over his shoulders like a cloak. Doing all this was not easy, and he had to sit down for a few minutes before he had the strength to go on deck.
There he found an overcast sky with the wind blowing lightly from the north-north-west. Most of the signs of the recent battle had been removed on Glaucus and the only hint of the real damage she had suffered was in the extra stays* that were supporting the main mast and the timbers that were lashed to it. Only a small watch was evident on deck and the officer of the day appeared to be young Mr. Fisher.
“The rest of the crew are on the other frigates, sir, as are the other officers. There is a terrible lot of damage to them. Much worse than us,” the midshipman squeaked. His voice had only recently started to change and what came out of his mouth could still be surprisingly shrill. “I think the other ships may be ready to sail soon, sir. Mr. Brooks is concerned that we will be caught by a much stronger wind soon and we don’t want to be all tied together if that happens.”
Looking across, Giles saw that the ship next to him – what had Hendricks called her? The Roland or something like that – had obviously been in a fight, but the main evidence that revealed this was a very jury-rigged, cut-down mizzenmast. From the next ship, Perseus, he could hear the clank of the pumps. He wondered if the water was still gaining or if Bush had stemmed the tide. He couldn’t see enough of the fourth ship to determine her state of readiness.
“I’d better see how the other ships are getting on myself. Just keep a close watch here, Mr. Fisher.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Giles had to be assisted to cross over to the Roland. For a small wound, his shoulder certainly was hurting very severely and preventing him from doing many ordinary things. Mr. Evens had fashioned a jury mizzenmast using the main topgallant mast and the main royal mast. It should suffice to get them to a shipyard where proper repairs could be made. Her larboard side had been badly chewed up by Perseus’s broadsides, but proper repair was also the job of the dockyard.
The news was also good when Giles crossed to Perseus. Captain Bush welcomed him aboard, though omitting the elaborate ritual used when a captain came aboard another ship. He had also been wounded, though in his case, the evidence was a bandage wrapped around his head, caused, Bush told Giles, by a splinter. Three of the shot holes below the waterline had been plugged and the fourth would soon follow suit. The pumps were now gaining steadily on the leaks. In doing so, they were also reducing the pressures on the repairs. Perseus also would soon be ready to sail. Giles avoided having to cross to the fourth frigate. From Perseus’s deck, he could ascertain that she was ready to proceed. He could expect that all the ships would be able to set off for England within the hour.
A flotilla of four frigates! Giles wryly thought that such a force might be a commodore’s command if the ships were all healthy. Of course, they were not, and nor was their commodore. Daphne would appreciate the irony of a banged-up captain being the commodore of a banged-up flotilla, though he might first have to explain to her what a commodore was. He knew that she would be much more dismayed by his injuries t
han she would be amused by his wit. He had so much to tell her and he did so want news of her. Simply put, he missed her. Now, at least, he was headed towards her. Lord, how his shoulder hurt! And his head. He might just take to his bed for a while until his flotilla was ready to resume their journey home. Maybe he would dream of a peaceful life with Daphne at Dipton Hall.
Chapter XXIV
Daphne was taking her breakfast in the parlor of the Fox and Hounds in Ameschester when she saw the overnight post-coach from London dash into the inn yard. Idly observing the coach, she first saw a man with a peg leg and a bandage around his head awkwardly exit the vehicle. When he turned around, she saw that it was Captain Bush. She was already rising from her chair in the hopes that he might help her with the trial when another man appeared. He had his arm in a sling and he had stepped out of the coach in such a way that all that Daphne could see of him was his back. However, there was no mistaking that back! Giles had arrived! Any thought of consulting Mr. Snodgravel immediately vanished from her mind.
Daphne jumped up from her table, upsetting it with a great crash of crockery, which she ignored. She ran out of the parlor, through the inn door and straight across to where the coach stood. Luckily, Giles had turned and seen her coming for she flung herself at him in a way that would have knocked him down if he had not braced himself. With Daphne safely nestling in his arms, they gave each other a huge hug and a lasting, warm kiss. It was an absolutely improper manner for gentlefolk to behave, but they didn’t care. People could think what they liked!
A War by Diplomacy Page 29