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

by Richard Testrake

  Early in the day, it was determined only beer would be supplied for the crew’s consumption, although this would not be the watery stuff supplied by the service, but real, full strength beverage purchased from the inn. To keep order, Phillips deputed his Marines. He assured the Sergeant, after the festivities were over, he would pay for them to have their own bacchanalia.

  When it was time for the launch to carry the party ashore for the commissioning ceremony, the boat and crew were as immaculate as possible. All crew members wore clean purser’s slop trousers with white shirts and sennit hats they had made themselves. In a private word to the cox’n, Phillips asked him to keep the men from drink until the ceremony was finished and they had arrived back at the ship. He assured the crew there would be drink enough for everyone then.

  The commissioning went rapidly. Admiral Parker was not one for long speeches, and before they knew it, they were back in the launch heading back to the ship, the new lieutenants proudly wearing their new uniform coats and swords. These swords had been seized from the deck of the captured enemy ship, Chacal. One had formerly belonged to the former captain, shot down shortly before the ship’s flag was dropped, and the other to the former second officer. Phillips made a mental note that he needed to get a better sword for himself. He still had the cheap one he had bought at a pawn shop a decade before in Antigua.

  The crew took over the fore deck for their party. Food and beer was constantly ferried out from shore, as necessary. The officers and guests had their party in the wardroom, although Phillips was soon forced to engage a shore boat to take himself, Sarah and her relative back to shore in the afternoon. The elderly lady was not up to the kind of social event this was threatening to turn into. They returned to the inn and the ladies retired for a bit to recover from the event. Later, the innkeeper had his hostler bring the carriage around, the footman riding in back. An extra wagon brought food, drink and necessary supplies.

  It was late afternoon when the vehicles pulled up on a hill outside of town. It was a perfect spot. Sheep had grazed the meadow grass short, and a stream bubbled nearby. The crew unloaded tables and folding chairs from the wagon, a cloth was spread on the table, and food was removed from the wagon and arranged.

  During the meal, Phillips kept Miss Arnold’s glass topped off with sherry. It was not long before she dozed off and fell back in her chair. Sarah covered her with a shawl, then joined Phillips on a blanket on top of the hill. Below them, the inn’s employees were having their own party, consuming the remaining food and beverages. Sarah and John were in each other’s arms when the hostler came hesitantly up the hill, clearing his throat multiple times, as he approached.

  “Sir, Ma’am, maybe we might ought to get the horses back to the barn soon. We don’t want to get caught in the falling damps now.”

  The two put themselves in order and went down to the table. The crew had already cleared the food and dishes back into the wagon. The confused Miss Arnold, was wakened and reassured. She was dreadfully concerned one of the employees may have taken liberties with her person while she slept.

  On the way back to town, the two discussed the future. Sarah confided to John that while her uncle was a kind and understanding man, he was just not in a position to provide a dowry for her, and without one, it was unlikely she would ever marry. John had his duty in the navy, being gone for long periods often without notice and unable to provide proper care for a family. The pair decided they would just wait for each other, and enjoy what time together they could catch.

  Once back aboard ship, Phillips went through it to inspect the damage. The party in the wardroom had died a natural death. Most officers had managed to make it to their cabins before falling, but a pair of warrant officers were face down on the wardroom table. Up forward too, the seamen had mostly quit after the beer stopped coming aboard. Men were passed out both on deck and below, but the damage was not nearly as spectacular as he had feared. Lieutenant Mullins came out of the shadows, and greeted him. Phillips complimented him on the state of the ship.

  Mullins said the Marines had done a superior task in keeping the drunks from demolishing the ship, and deserved their own party. They would have the whole day tomorrow to do their celebrating. While he had been ashore, a pair of passengers had boarded, lieutenants being sent to the Channel Fleet as spares. Mullins said the officer who escorted them aboard hinted that Admiralty was becoming irritated that so many midshipmen were being appointed lieutenants when so many already commissioned lieutenants were ashore on half pay.

  These new officers had volunteered to travel as passengers, in the hope and expectation openings might appear they could step into. Furthermore, a draft of hands was expected at any time. Many of these were reputed to be seamen, pressed from returning merchant shipping, although of course, assize men must be expected too.

  It was another week before admiralty decided to release the frigate, and send her on her way. It was nearing the end of May, and Admiral Parker finally sent orders to get the ship to sea, find Lord Howe, deliver dispatches, and put Courageous under his orders. The new draft of men had also reported aboard, and the additional people were eating their way through the ship’s rations. The evening before, Phillips met the two new officers. He invited them into his cabin for a meal with himself and the first officer. Both had been on the half pay list for years. One seemed familiar, and it came to him as they were toasting the King. The man was Crawford, met back in ’82, in Antiqua while he was trying to get a crew for a cutter he was to sail back home.

  Then, Crawford had been a passed midshipman, living aboard a captured sugar transport after bringing in a prize, and waiting for his ship to return and claim him. Instead, Phillips had taken him aboard his cutter, with the permission of the governor, of course. The last time he had seen the man was when the Vixen was paid off at the end of the American war.

  Phillips raised his glass, and said, “Lieutenant Crawford, a glass with you sir.”

  After the courtesy Crawford said, “I didn’t believe you had remembered, sir.”

  “I nearly didn’t Mister Crawford. It was a long while ago, and many things have happened since.”

  “Gentlemen, Lieutenant Crawford and I met in ’82 on Antigua. I was a newly promoted lieutenant, trying to get a cutter ready for sea, and Mister Crawford here, a passed midshipman at the time, helped me get a crew, and then assisted me to get the Vixen across the Atlantic. The American war ended, and I haven’t seen him since. Tell us what happened with you Lieutenant.”

  “Well sir, when the Vixen paid off, I met an old officer I had served under before. He was a lieutenant getting a gun brig ready to go back to the Caribbean. He took me with him, and I stayed there for two years, until it was discovered the bottom was rotting out. We tried to sail her back. We got as far as Gibraltar, when a survey discovered she could go no farther, and she wasn’t worth rebuilding. I spent a few months on the beach there, when I met another officer I had known years before. This was a captain commanding a 3rd rate ship of the line that was returning to Plymouth. He had lost a lieutenant, and knew I had passed my board, so he took me on as fifth lieutenant. It was only for a few months though, when she too was paid off. I spent the rest of the peace working on my father’s farm. At any rate, I was a half-pay lieutenant though, instead of a midshipman, so I didn’t have to beg from my parent. It wasn’t until a week ago, I heard about this volunteer position. I am still on half pay, but will hopefully have a chance to get a berth on a ship eventually.”

  Phillips interjected, “We’ll see what we can do for you gentlemen. Mister Rodney, what about you sir? What have you been up to since you were commissioned?”

  The other new officer at the table admitted, “I was commissioned five years ago and served a year on a ’74 in home waters. One day, I was in the hold with the master checking the stowage, when the ship was hit by a big wave. A cask was not stowed right, and shifted. My leg was broken, so the captain put me ashore. I never got another ship.”

>   “Gentlemen, both of you have been unfortunate. If I had a vacancy aboard ship, I would take either of you. Unfortunately I do not. From past experience, I would guess your best chance will be if one of the ships in the fleet takes a good prize, one the captain will not wish to trust to a midshipman. In that case, one of you might well be given the prize to take home. This would take you off the half-pay book, for a while at least. In the meantime, while you are passengers, not required to work the ship, this may be a chance for you to get some fresh experience. Should you wish, I am sure the first officer could find something for you to do.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  WHERE IS THE FLEET?

  Upon leaving port, HMS Courageous headed down the channel. His orders called for him to find Lord Howe. He decided to interpret that to mean he should look into Brest first. Howe had told him at their parting he was going to look there; and Phillips thought perhaps the fleet was still present. After reaching the mouth of the channel, the winds were blustery, nearly gale force winds, onshore, so he elected to remain well out to sea. While riding out the storm, the lookout reported a sail in sight abaft their starboard quarter, coming up on them slowly. A midshipman sent aloft reported the sail to be towing a dismasted ship.

  Fearing these might belong to Howe’s fleet, Phillips told the master to bring the ship to the wind, and work closer to the pair. By evening, the gale had intensified and Courageous was compelled to reduce sail. It was in the afternoon watch the next day before Phillips and the sailing master felt it proper to search for the now missing ships. With the sea empty to the horizon, the sailing master worked out where the ships might be expected to be, with the conditions of wind and current.

  Nothing was found that day but early the in the next, the same pair was sighted, beating toward the nearby shore. The lead one was identified as a French built frigate, and the tow appeared to be a third rate. Mister Rodney had volunteered to serve as signal officer, so Phillips had him hoist the ensign, as well their number and the present recognition signal. The tow had nothing to hang a signal to, unless it was to an oar or pike staff. The frigate ignored the signals entirely. As they approached the ships, the liner appeared to have been savagely damaged. Shot holes through her sides, and her counter was beaten in.

  The frigate seemed to be undamaged, except for some storm damage that had been mostly brought to right and was concentrating on her task of towing the 74 to a safe port. Phillips ordered the master to bring Courageous around to windward of the towing frigate, and had his ship cleared for action. At long shot range he looked the ship over. He was almost certain it was a Frenchman, but was puzzled at the lack of response of that ship. Finally, he ordered a shot fired to windward.

  Strange signal flags soared upward from the frigate, presumably directed toward the tow. The tricolor was hoisted, and the tow cast off. She fired off an irregular broadside of eighteen guns at long range, without much result. Phillips noted that two of her guns in the broadside did not fire, and only one ball came aboard, cutting some shrouds above the starboard mizzen chains. He saw the bosun leading a team to repair the damage.

  He calmly told his first officer, “Mister Mullins, I think we will try our luck with him now. Gunners will fire only when their guns bear. I would rather have all the shots hit, one at a time, than all guns go off at the same moment, and half of them miss. You may fire when ready.”

  Messenger midshipmen ran to tell each section what was expected of them, and soon every gunner’s arm was raised, signifying readiness to fire. He nodded, and the guns began firing, with a deadly stutter. There were a few splashes about the target, but many more hits. The jib boom came away, and the fore topmast came tumbling down in a tangle of canvas and rigging. Although the enemy ship had fired first, Courageous’ guns were reloaded and fired again before the enemy. Fewer misses this time, and Phillips noticed an enemy gun had been struck on the muzzle and pounded back through the bulwarks before it could fire. A few French shot hit the ship this time.

  A Marine standing in ranks on the quarterdeck suddenly sat down with a thud, his left foot missing. A few more men quilled with splinters when an eighteen pound shot came through the side. The ships began a slugging match, which Courageous seemed to be winning, as enemy gun crews seemed to be poorly trained in gun drill. Watching one enemy port, he saw it fired only one shot to two fired by a corresponding gun on Courageous deck.

  Still, men were falling every minute, and he wanted to minimize that as much as possible. His ship had little damage done to the rigging yet, even though the enemy was firing high to attempt to cripple her. As he watched, the enemy’s main topmast came down. Since most of her sail was set on her top masts, this slowed her right down, and Phillips asked the master to try to pull ahead and turn to starboard. As the guns kept crashing, a ball came through the side and smashed the carriage of an eighteen pounder. Most of the crew went down with splinter wounds.

  Phillips saw Lieutenant Crawford get a line around the muzzle of the wayward gun and lash it down. This was getting to be hot work indeed. As the Courageous started angling toward the enemy, her fire seemed to speed up. Certainly it was becoming more deadly as the frigate closed in. Phillips knew the enemy captain wanted to turn his ship at the same time as the Courageous, so as to stay broadside to broadside, but he was handicapped. His ship had received so much damage to the rigging, she was barely under control.

  Finally, the ships were close enough together that the carronades could be used. First the forward thirty-six fired, then the aft. The first ball smacked into the sea a few fathoms before the enemy’s hull. The after gun, perhaps fired a little higher on a wave, hit that hull at the water line. Thirty six pounds of iron traveling at a speed of hundreds of feet per second could do massive damage, and this one did. Another minute of firing, then the tricolor was hauled down. Officers and midshipmen went around the ship bellowing ‘Cease fire.”. It took a while for the men to get the blood lust out of their systems, but finally calm prevailed.

  Phillips looked around, Crawford was close beside. “Mister Crawford, I’d be obliged if you would take some men over and take command of the prize. Better take as many Marines with you as you can. Watch out for any nonsense.” In the end Crawford took the launch and longboat, filled full of men, and boarded the frigate. When Crawford signaled all was well, Courageous bore away for the third rate, which was several miles away by now.

  The big liner was dead in the water, broadside to the waves when they approached. They came up across her bow, with every gun on her port broadside bearing. These guns had not been fired in the previous engagement and all were functional. With no response from the liner, Phillips had one of his starboard guns fire. Someone on the enemy quarterdeck put a white shirt on the tip of a pike, and waved it.

  Realizing his first officer had little experience with dealing with senior enemy officers, Phillips said to Mullins, “Lieutenant, I am going to go over to that ship myself and see what they intend. I’ll be on their quarterdeck. If they try any nonsense, lay off their bow, and pound the piss out of her.” His barge had been towing behind, and it was drawn up. He cautiously made his way dow

  n the battens into the boat. No point in breaking bones at this stage.

  The remainder of the Marines followed him, and the boat then filled with seamen. His cox’n gave the order, ‘Give Way’, and the boat made its way over to the line-of-battle ship.

  It had obviously been in a savage battle, smashed gear and rigging hung over the side. When the bow man hooked on under the entry port, Phillips could see no easy point of entry. The man ropes had been removed, and the ship’s crew seemed to be ignoring them. The cox’n solved the problem. He detailed a few seamen to board the liner. One of them grabbed a line dangling down the side, he walked his way up the side of the ship, others following.

  A few minutes later, they had man ropes rigged, and all ready for the captain to board. The Marines went first, their muskets slung over their backs, then Phillips followed. He misse
d the sound of bosun’s pipes, but the Marines put on their usual show.

  He looked around for an officer to discuss the surrender with, but there seemed to be no such on the quarterdeck, alive that is. There was a multitude of bodies sprawled about, and more than a few terribly wounded people in agonizing pain. He watched as a French seaman held a piggin of what he assumed was brandy to a helpless man’s mouth, and saw that many of the men wandering aimlessly on deck were in the latter stages of intoxication. He turned to his messenger, a thirteen year old midshipman on his first cruise, clutching his dirk, as though ready to take on the whole French navy.

  “Mister Henderson, I would like it if you returned to the ship and told Lieutenant Mullins what you have seen here. Tell him I need more people. When our doctor finishes treating our own people, I wish him to come over here. Go as fast as you like, sir.”

  The Marine sergeant had his men herding the crew of the ship below, leaving the dead and wounded where they had fallen. Phillips went below, escorted by half a dozen Marines. Hundreds of French sailors were milling about below, most of them already drunk. One boy, dressed as an aspirant, the French version of a midshipman, came up to him and introduced himself in good English. He reported he was the only officer alive aboard, save for a few other aspirants younger than himself. The captain and all his lieutenants had perished in a big fleet battle earlier.

  Are there no other officers at all aboard older than yourself?

  “Le médecin, peut-être.” (The doctor, perhaps.)