For the Honor of the Flag: A John Phillips Novel (War at Sea Book 2)

by Richard Testrake

  Phillips asked Wilson, “Would you walk with me a few minutes, sir?” taking him to the windward rail of the quarterdeck.

  Once there, the pair walked up and down, Phillips doing the talking. “Mister Wilson, yesterday I promoted your friend Mister Landrace an acting lieutenant, bringing him to the quarterdeck as second officer. How would you feel if I did the same to you, promoting you to acting lieutenant serving as third officer with, of course, the privilege of the wardroom?”

  “The youth looked at him stoically, and said, “Why sir, I’d be proud and pleased as can be.”

  “You think you could handle the duties?”

  A phlegmatic “Yes sir.” emerged from his lips.

  “You do understand your former mates in the midshipman’s mess are no longer your friends. They are your subordinates. Should any of them misbehave, you will be expected to enforce discipline, by whatever means seems necessary.”

  Another phlegmatic “Yes sir.”

  “Very well, Mister Wilson, it is settled. You are at this moment an acting lieutenant, and that will be entered into the log. Select a man to move your gear into the third lieutenant’s cabin in the wardroom.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  ACTION

  HMS Courageous proceeded on course for another few days, with light winds lengthening their voyage. Shortly after noon sightings, the main lookout spotted first one sail, then a few more ships hull down ahead. Phillips ordered the signal midshipman in the main top with a glass and his signal book, while Lieutenant Wilson who had been given the duty of signals officer stood on the quarterdeck. Midshipman Brady called down, “Nearest sail is HMS Viper, 14 gun brig, Captain Askins. Three ships behind, appear to be John Company ships.”

  This seemed to be unusual. Of course, the brig was a member of a convoy escort, but ships of the East India Company usually travelled in larger numbers, with a larger escort. Phillips ordered Wilson to report the sighting to the flag. Then Brady shouted down, “Viper is signaling.” He slowly read off the signal flags, while Wilson interpreted. “Sir, the convoy was met by three French third rates two days ago. The escort command ship, HMS Ardent was taken, while a thirty-two gun frigate as well as Viper herself was damaged. Viper reports the convoy scattered, but she saw several of the Indiamen captured.”

  Phillips ordered the signals all be repeated to Queen Charlotte, the command flagship. He reflected this loss would cause pandemonium back home. Those Indiamen were worth millions. The brig and the three Indiamen sailed past Courageous and joined the fleet. Continuing on course for a bit, the frigate was soon called to heel and ordered to fall in trail behind the flag. Courageous’ number was hung out on the flag, and her captain ordered to report.

  Once aboard the Queen Charlotte, Phillips found himself again in Admiral Howe’s quarters along with the lieutenant commanding the Viper. He had had a good look at her on his way. Her fore mast was ‘fished’ with wood slats bound to the mast. She must have sustained some significant damage to that mast. Some of her spars had been repaired likewise. Her pumps were steadily pumping water to the scuppers, and Phillips wondered how long she could float.

  Lord Howe began. “Captain Phillips, Captain Askins reports the outbound India convoy was met by some enemy third rates as well as smaller craft. As you know, Ardent, a fine 64 gun line-of-battle ship, was taken, Captain Askins here reports she was badly damaged, and may well sink. An escort frigate was dismasted, but left behind while the enemy pursued the Indiamen. We will try to find her and render assistance. I intend to leave a sloop to stand by Viper to aid her in any way possible.”

  “The fleet will attempt to locate these enemy ships and see what we may do with them. I want you to escort the Indiamen to Gibraltar. After seeing them safe, you are to return to the fleet. After we finish looking for the missing frigate, we will continue on toward Brest to determine if Admiral Villaret has left yet with his fleet of liners. If he has, we will endeavor to bring him to action. If he has not, we will proceed west and continue searching for the grain fleet from America. Should you encounter any of the missing Indiamen, you are to do what you can to recover them.”

  The Indiamen were a bother to escort. Despite their recent fright, they refused to clap on the sail Phillips thought was appropriate. He guessed the captains would prefer to lose their ships rather than cause their wealthy passengers the slightest discomfort. He had Lord Howe’s report of the incident to hand over once reaching port. For himself, he decided his log would suffice. The lookout at the main masthead reported the outline of distant Gibraltar was in sight, and leaving the ship in the capable hands of the sailing master decided to take a nap in his hanging bed.

  He was awakened by another shout from the masthead reporting sails in sight ahead. The strait between Europe and Africa being such an important gateway, Phillips was not alarmed at all, assuming these ships to be some of the ubiquitous traffic between the Mediterranean and the Atlantic. He had just stepped onto the quarterdeck, when the masthead reported three of the ships appeared to be Indiamen. A few more minutes brought the information the ships were accompanied by a corvette or small frigate wearing the French tricolor.

  Soon after the sighting, the strangers turned to an interception course with Courageous and her flock. A word to Mullins brought the Marine drummer on deck rattling his drums, while the rest of the crew began their tasks of clearing the ship for action. Cabin furniture was struck below, while any items that could be reduced to splinters by an enemy shot were removed. All temporary partitions were taken down, and when completed, the only impediments on the deck were the massive iron guns themselves, as well as the tackle for operating them. The decks were strewn with sand to give seamen more traction, and the sand was sprinkled with water to negate any accidental spillages of gunpowder. The ship’s boys, in their capacity as powder monkeys had run below, bringing up filled cartridges in their leather carriers.

  With every gun in the frigate reporting ready, Phillips looked at the enemy. The captured Indiamen had turned back to their original course and were making a run for the Strait, perhaps hoping to get through before meeting further opposition. The French warship escorting them had interposed herself between her prizes and the Courageous.

  Phillips was not sure he agreed with her tactics. Earlier, she and her prizes had run toward his Indiamen, apparently thinking they were unguarded. Having learned the truth, apparently the French prizes were trying to escape into the Med, maybe hoping to make Toulon. The enemy ship’s captain probably now thought that with the heroic sacrifice of his own ship, he could enable the prizes to escape. Phillips felt differently. He thought he could smash this flimsy opponent with a broadside or two, and go on to capture the individual Indiamen, one after the other.

  When the enemy brought herself to the wind, waiting with her broadside facing Courageous’ bow, Phillips saw that she was indeed what the British would name a post ship. She had ports for twelve guns facing him, making her a twenty-four gun corvette, in the French nomenclature. He doubted she mounted anything heavier than twelve pounder guns, with some of them more likely to be eight pounders. Most of his guns were long eighteen pounders. Four of his guns were thirty six pounders, but those guns were irrelevant now, since the range at present was much too far for the short barreled weapons. Deciding to keep running straight at the frigate until some serious shots came aboard, Phillips kept his frigate on course. Finally, a single enemy gun fired. They saw the flash of the shot in the muzzle, and the big squirt of smoke from the gun.

  Keeping her at it, the big frigate approached the enemy. The rest of the broadside fired, with the smoke hiding the small frigate for a moment. Phillips heard the clatter of a ball hitting some gear in the rigging, but he saw nothing fall. Deciding the moment had come to see what the enemy was made of, he asked the sailing master to bring the frigate around, broadside to broadside with the enemy.

  He told Mullins to fire when the guns bore on their targets. As the ship swung around, its guns started firing, f
rom the bow back to the stern. Immediately, serious hits were seen impacting the French corvette. That ship had no business standing up to a hammering of eighteen pounders. At the second full broadside, the enemy’s mizzen took a hard hit just above the deck, and it began to sway, held only by the standing rigging for that mast.

  Almost immediately, the tricolor came fluttering down, and the ship surrendered. The captured Indiamen were fleeing, hoping to get away while the French warship was taken into the bag.

  The launch, which had been towing astern, was led forward and filled with an armed boarding party. Knowing Mullins spoke the best French; he put him in charge, and told him to secure the enemy ship. He said, “If they give you any trouble, assure them we will be back shortly, and pound the snot out of them.”

  After Mullins reached the prize, he called back with the news that she was the French National corvette, Le Chacal. Her captain had been mortally wounded and was not long for this world. Courageous left the prize and continued after the Indiamen.

  Sometime later, Courageous had caught up to the first Indiaman. Seeing that crews were manning the broadside guns, he swung his frigate around on her stern. Acting Lieutenant Landrace held his hand in the air, signifying his readiness to fire upon the order. Phillips hated to fire into the ship’s stern, not knowing where the passengers might be located, but felt he had no choice. Apparently though, the French prize master did not wish to face a broadside raking his command in the stern, and the tricolor came down with a rush. Another boat was filled, and sent over with the same instructions.

  Bracing her yards around to take the wind, Courageous set out after the other two. These did not have especially brave prize crews because first one, then the last, hauled down their flags.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  GIBRALTAR

  It took some time to get the Indiamen under control. While most of the original crews were present, as well as all of the lower ranking passengers, Phillips was told the ship’s officers and some passengers had been taken aboard the third rates that had captured them originally. Phillips sent a midshipman or bosun’s mate to each prize to take command. The French prize crews were secured, while the ships original crews were freed, and put to work manning the ships.

  Eventually, he ordered them to proceed into Gibraltar, and went back to check on the corvette that had struck to him. Matters there had not proceeded as well.

  When they neared the vessel, Mister Ranson pointed to her masthead. The tricolor floated above the British ensign. The Courageous stood higher than the Frenchman, and he could see Mullins and his crew lined up, their hands lashed behind them. One man lay still at their feet. “Mister Mullins, are you able to speak?” Phillips shouted.

  He watched Mullins exchange a few words with his captors. Mullins called to Phillips. “Sir, we were taken as soon as the ship went hull down. The captain of Chacal died soon after surrendering, and his first officer took over. He is no seaman, and is having difficulty making repairs. He has told his people you will not fire since you will kill us as well as the French. Sir, I think if you could kill him, the rest of the crew here would surrender.”

  Phillips called to one of the midshipman who was on the quarterdeck for relaying messages. “Youngster, I want you to go down to the hold, and find my rifle that was struck down there when the ship cleared for action. Bring that back, as well as the hunting bag you will find nearby. I am in a hurry, please.”

  After the lad ran below, Phillips called to Mullins. “I take it the first officer on the Chacal does not speak English?”

  “No sir, I don’t know about some of the other officers though. We have to believe some of the crew members may have served as crew members aboard British ships in the past.”

  “Very well, we had better watch what we have to say.”

  Just then, the little mid came thundering up, the rifle in one hand, hunting bag over his shoulder, and an ornate carved wood box in the other hand. This box contained a pair of pocket pistols he had bought soon after being commissioned for protection. The pistols had been cheap, and probably not reliable. The armorer had gone over every component part of each gun, replacing what was needed. The carpenter had made a fine box from a length of mahogany. What resulted was a pair of reliable, ordinary appearing pistols in a beautiful box. Beauty was not what was needed now though. He flipped the frizzen’ open and found there was a pinch of powder in each pan. The flints were held tight in their jaws, so he slid the weapons into each pocket of his uniform coat. The rifle he knew was not loaded, so he remedied the matter. A measured charge of powder was dumped down the bore followed by a strange projectile. This consisted of a pair of short, greased bullets, each with a conically shaped hollow base, with s similarly shaped pointed nose. The components were bound together by a wrapping of thin, tough paper. The whole assembly was slid down the barrel on top of the powder. Normally, he would have primed the pan with a tiny amount of the coarse propellant powder, but since it was available, he used the fine priming powder for his pistols to put in the pan.

  He looked out at his target and examined the French officer commanding Chacal. This individual was becoming impatient and was becoming irate as he waited for a resolution of his problem. He was now addressing Mister Ranson the sailing master, apparently thinking the middle aged man wearing an officers coat, was the captain. Ranson did not understand any of the rapid-fire French the officer was shouting. Quietly talking to Ranson, Phillips ordered him to shout to Mullins, asking to relay the order to the French officer that he was to free his captives at once, and haul down that tricolor. As Mullins translated, all saw the French officer become almost choleric. Phillips stepped over to the mizzen and leaned against it while he brought his rifle up, aiming at his target. He had already set the sights for a distance of one hundred and fifty yards.

  As the ship rolled slightly from a wave, he waited a second ‘till the ship completed its movement. With a second remaining until the ship rolled back in the other direction, he touched the trigger; the flint fell onto the frizzen, generating a shower of sparks. Before the flint had reached its downward position, the priming powder had flashed to life.

  The flash immediately passed through the touchhole and ignited the main charge. The explosion of the powder in the barrel had expanded the hollow base of the rearmost projectile to fit the rifling of the gun. As the first portion of the projectile moved violently forward, it jammed into the second portion, enlarging it too into the weapon’s rifling. Before moving another inch, the former pair of projectiles were now jammed into one long bullet. Before the ship began its next roll, that projectile had left the barrel, and now no movement of the ship or man could affect it.

  The slug struck its target two inches to the left of the sternum, and a little low. The soft lead slug began to mushroom immediately, and when it exited from the man’s body, it left a hole the size of a man’s fist. This officer would never give another order again.

  The death of the former French first lieutenant of Chacal took much of the excitement from the scene. The boarding party was stripped of their bonds on the prize, and extraneous French crewmembers were ordered below. The re-captured Indiamen were now coming on the scene, and Phillips believed it would be better for everyone if the numerous French prisoners were divided into small parcels and sent to individual Indiamen. Phillips went over to the newly captured corvette and went through the ship, foot by foot. All went well, as long as his party stayed on the spar deck. There had been battle damage done before their initial meeting, but this had been crudely repaired, and the ship seemed ready to sail into port.

  Without thinking, Phillips swung down a hatch into the foc’s’le with Mullins right after. French crew members of both watches were jamming the interior spaces, and they were out of sorts. A few had got into some rough brandy, and were telling each other they were not about to go into the hulks as prisoners. In an instant the mood had turned ugly, and here was the captain and first officer of the British ship that was causin
g all the trouble.

  He felt a sudden, almost incapacitating sharp pain as a sailor tried to jam a knife into his ribs. It would have been the end for the young captain had the matelot had room to stab with force. However, everyone being crowded together, the stab was more of a push, and the push into Phillips body was hindered by his heavy uniform coat, with a pistol in the left pocket. His right hand being free, he found the other gun in that pocket and without removing it twisted the gun, coat pocket and all toward the French sailor, and pressed the trigger. He expected the weapon to misfire, being encumbered as it was, but somehow it did its job, and the sailor was hammered back as the heavy ball slammed into his body.

  Mullins, close behind him, now had room to draw his sword. Actually, the sword was a new weapon to him. He had been armed with a dirk, a short weapon with a blade as long as a kitchen butcher knife. There had not been occasion for him to procure a sword until he had confiscated the weapon owned by the dead French first officer. The thought occurred to him that he would be better served at the moment with the old dirk in this crowded environment.

  Now though, the newly acquired weapon was in his hand, and there was another drunken sailor in his front, also with a knife in his hand. With no effort at all, Mullins slid the razor sharp weapon between some ribs, and another body was spurting blood onto the deck.

  The discharge of the pistol had left a smoldering fire in Phillips’ pocket, and he did a little dance until it finally was smothered. The crowd of sailors had used the opportunity to draw as far from the British officers as possible, there was now room to breathe. The pair took the opportunity to go back up the ladder and let the Marines do the work of clearing the spaces below.