On the King's Sea Service: A John Phillips Novel (War at Sea Book 1)

by Richard Testrake

  “Avery, I can’t do anything about you now. We’re on our way to report to the Channel Fleet off Le Havre. If you behave in any unprofessional manner though, I will have you standing in front of the admiral before you can spit. Are we understood?”

  “Yes Sir.”

  “I dislike telling a man when he can or cannot drink, but it would truly be wise for you to keep the cork in the bottle while we are at sea. Dismissed, Sailing Master Avery.”

  Going out to the quarterdeck, Phillips saw they were by themselves in a sunny sky, under a topsail breeze. Braddock had the deck and Phillips waved him over. “You’ve been on deck since we left Portsmouth. Who’s to relieve you?”

  “Well, Sir, generally the Master and I have alternating watches, but with him being sick...”

  “Sick, my arse. The man was drunk. Send somebody below and get him up here, then go rest, yourself. I’ll be in my quarters.”

  Avery reported on deck and relieved the lieutenant. Phillips saw he had attempted to shave, but had apparently been interrupted while doing so. Patches of beard and drying smudges of soap mottled his face. By standing on a chair in his cabin, Phillips could look through the skylight in his quarters.

  Observing, he saw one of the junior midshipmen making some antic gestures behind Avery’s back. A passing master’s mate stopped and apparently chastised the boy. After a moment, Phillips removed his coat and hat and went out on deck. Going to the helm, he checked the course and asked the helmsmen, “What was the problem a minute ago between the midshipman and the master’s mate?”

  The men were clearly hesitant to respond and one of them said, “Dunno, Sir.”

  Pondering a moment he went back to his quarters, speaking to the Marine at his door. “Private Burns, I don’t know all the men’s names yet. That master’s mate on deck now, up forward, do you know his name?”

  “That’s Mister Ackroyd, Sir.”

  “Would you pass the word for him to report to my quarters, please?”

  The captain heard several calls for ‘Mister Ackroyd, report to Captain’s quarters’.”

  A minute later, the Marine reported, “Mister Ackroyd, Sir.”

  When he said “Enter”, the alarmed young man came in the cabin.

  “Mister Ackroyd, I wonder what that exchange between you and that boy up forward a few minutes ago, was all about?”

  “Captain, he thought Mister Avery looked comical when he came on deck.”

  “What would you recommend we do about it, Mr. Ackroyd?”

  “Sir, if he were one of the other mids, I’d say we should masthead him.”

  “What’s different between him and the other mids?”

  “Sir, Captain Lord Brumley brought Mullins aboard with him. He is the son of a friend who serves in the Lords with him. We were told none of us were to administer any punishment to the boy.”

  “Mr. Ackroyd, since I am now captain, I will be making the decisions about administering punishment. For now, have Mister Mullins sent to whatever masthead you select. Make sure he understands about the change of administration. His next infraction will cause him to kiss the gunner’s daughter.” Boys committing infractions, were often bent over a gun, the ‘gunner’s daughter’ and beaten on the buttocks. As it was, young Mullins could expect to be exiled to the summit of one of the masts until either the captain or first lieutenant called him down.

  The next few days were spent in training the crew. Hours were spent exercising the various specialties aboard, especially the gun crews. The coast of France was just in sight from the deck, when another mastheaded mid spotted a sail hull down right up against the land ahead.

  As the Exeter swept in to investigate, her lookouts spotted the brig, pinned by the wind against the land in a little bay. She seemed at first to be attempting to beat out, but after spotting Exeter, she changed her mind and anchored.

  A village stood against the head of the bay. Fishing boats dotted the bay, with one in sight just around a point, to their starboard. The Exeter stood away from the land and slowly drifted back out to sea in the light airs, keeping the separate boat behind the point just in sight as long as the light lasted.

  As the sun dropped, the Exeter came back toward the last known location of the boat they were stalking. It had been drifting and was no longer where they had last seen it, but someone in the boat uncovered a lantern and revealed its position. Phillips had ordered the binnacle light covered and all other lights in the ship had been extinguished. The sloop ghosted right near the fishing boat before its crew heard the water burbling under the prow.

  The first lieutenant had gone about the sloop before, to see if anyone aboard was fluent in the French language. Surprisingly, the only such person was the young Mullins. He had had schooling in Paris before the war and was fluent.

  Phillips had him ask the boat’s crew whether they would sell some fish. After animated conversation, Midshipman Mullins reported that, while fishing was poor tonight, they did have a few they would sell; the boat crew hurriedly threw some fish in a wood box and passed it up.

  The only French coin available on the ship, were a few old silver livres belonging to crew members. Phillips traded a pound note for each coin. The French crewmen were excited about their good fortune, so Phillips asked if they would like to come aboard to have a glass of rum, or perhaps some wine. They gladly clambered up on deck and Phillips led the procession of French boat crew and Midshipman Mullins to his dining cabin.

  Phillips saw that Chips had made great strides in getting his quarters livable. A long dining table stood constructed and Jones had spread a length of sailcloth over it. A problem arose, when it became apparent there was only one chair available.

  The Marine was called into the room and helped Jones construct a makeshift bench from a board laid over a couple kegs of his provisions that had not been stowed yet. The Frenchmen were impressed with the strength of the rum and several toasts were drunk to the glory of France and long life to the Republic.

  Phillips was uncomfortable with that toast, imagining the consequences that might ensue should his superiors hear of it. He comforted himself with the thought that since he knew no French, he had no official way of knowing what the toast amounted to.

  Finally, Phillips thought the fishermen might be in the mood to answer some questions he had about the harbor and its defenses. Immediately, the camaraderie ceased. The individual Phillips judged to be the owner of the boat gave a harangue in impassioned French.

  Mullins reported the French were insulted to be asked to spy on their village. It was obvious that the interview was over. As the group rose to go on deck, Phillips noticed that one of the group, younger than the others, was hanging back a bit. Phillips had the idea the lad did not want to return to the fishing boat.

  In a quick aside to his translator, the captain asked him to see if the boy would like to go inspect the midshipmen’s berth. The bewildered Mullins did so and the boy nodded agreement. The other two boat crew were now fuddled with the rum they had consumed and seemed not to notice they had lost one of their party. It was only after the two got into the fishing boat, that one started calling for André.

  Once the boat was cast off and left behind, Phillips ordered Mullins and André brought back to his quarters. His questions were answered. It seemed the lad’s grandfather, the old town mayor, had been visited by the local Committee of Public Safety. This was a group of loud individuals who had heard of that organization in Paris and thought it would be well if they could start a branch organization in the village. The idea being, they could use their imagined powers to rid the village of those who thought differently than themselves.

  They showed the local blacksmith a woodcut of a guillotine as used in Paris and one was soon constructed. The machine had already been tested. It worked as expected. The first test victim was a trussed pig, the mayor was the second. André was adamant that he wanted to be away from France. He felt he also would be soon under the blade if he remained in the villag
e. Phillips offered the lad passage to England, or any other destination in Europe his ship might go.

  The boy said the brig they had seen enter the harbor was anchored under the four guns of a newly constructed battery. He did not know the caliber of the guns, but held up his hands, indicating the size of the ball. Phillips guessed the guns to be twelve or perhaps eighteen pounders.

  Nothing like he would wish his little ship to face. For his ship to close the brig, or the town itself, they would first have to pass the battery situated on the side of the bay. Calling in the sailing master, they examined a chart of the area. The bay was located a little to the northwest of Le Havre. A stream running to the sea entered the little bay near the location where the brig was located.

  Exeter was behind a thin peninsula that formed the southern limit of the bay. The chart showed a coast road that ran northerly past the rear of the village.

  Releasing the men to their duties, Phillips ordered the French lad installed into the midshipmen’s berth and the ship sailed out to sea. At daybreak, the first officer was called to the captain’s quarters, along with the sailing master, now perfectly sober and capable, the Sergeant of Marines and the bosun.

  A plan was developed. The ship would demonstrate in the bay its presence, perhaps firing a shot or two toward the shore. Obviously the crew of the fishing boat would have reported their presence by now, so there would be no loss of the surprise factor. At dusk, the ship would sail directly out to sea, far enough out that no one from shore, at however high an elevation, could possibly see them.

  After dark, the ship would proceed to the far side of the peninsula and remain there overnight. Under cover of darkness, a landing party would be loaded into boats and sent to shore, hidden from the village by the intervening peninsula. During the night, they would proceed along the coast road until coming to the village.

  If undiscovered, they would remain hidden until first light, when they would attack the battery from behind. If detected during the night, the attack would commence immediately if a successful attack was deemed practical. If not, the landing party was to return to the boats and come back to the ship. In the event of an attack, if the opportunity existed, a red rocket would be fired at the beginning of the attack, with a blue light to follow when the attack was deemed to be successful.

  Boat crews would be left with the boats that had carried the men ashore. When they saw the blue light, they would proceed back to the ship, under sail if practical. It was judged best to leave the boats at the landing area temporarily in case something went badly awry and it was necessary for the attack party to return to the ship. If all went well, after picking up the nearly empty boats, the ship would proceed into the harbor and deal with any organized resistance.

  CHAPTER SIX

  First Blood

  The next day was spent out of the sight of land practicing for the evening’s work. The boats were lowered into the water to ensure the seams would swell and eliminate possible leakage. Men practiced lowering themselves into the boats, time and time again. When it was felt the ship and crew were as ready as they could be, the ship sailed for the harbor and up the bay ‘till a shot from the shore battery warned them to proceed no farther.

  Phillips decided not to return fire, since it seemed the enemy gun was an eighteen pounder and he did not want to advertise his relatively tiny six pounder weapons. He did however ask his officers to mark the location of the battery in comparison to the coast road, which they could see from the ship. Finally, he dipped his flag in salute and went back out to sea. That night found them at anchor off the other side of the peninsula, out of sight of the village and battery. The men’s weapons were checked before they were loaded into the boats.

  A buoy had been made up for their anchor cable. When the time came, rather than attempt to weigh with the few men left on the ship, they would slip the cable, its position marked by the buoy. The boats carried two dark lanterns. The light from the flame inside was hidden by tight fitting shutters. A lit dark lantern would be useful for lighting slow match for the firing of the pyrotechnics. In a pinch, of course, a little powder in the pan of an otherwise unloaded pistol or musket could also accomplish the same task.

  A quiet “Goodbye” sent the boats off. After waiting for any last minute problems to arise, the ship slipped her anchor cable and proceeded to the area they were to wait. Few men were left on the ship. Phillips had agonized over whether he should remain on the ship, or go with the attack party. In the end, he decided he would best remain on board while Braddock and Ackroyd would go with the attack party. The night was unusually dark, there being a low lying overcast. The light breeze was from onshore, though Phillips judged he could beat into the harbor if it did not veer. Avery said he would stake his reputation on it holding steady. Withers, he kept on board, so he had another officer other than Avery to rely on.

  Finally, just as the faintest hint of a sunrise came in the east, the crew could hear the sound of a distant bell clanging away, then the popping of muskets. Judging the fight had started early, Phillips gave the order to proceed on course to the pickup point. As the ship gained speed, they saw the red glare of a rocket and the shooting seemed to die down, although the bell kept clanging. Then, the blue light was seen. There was another interminable wait until the ship’s boats appeared.

  Phillips now wished he had ordered the boats to sail independently into the harbor, but he recognized there were good reasons for either choice. The boat’s crews were quickly taken aboard and the boats themselves were left in the water to trail behind. The sun was well up when they entered the bay and got close enough to shore to see what was going on. The battery seemed intact, but a British flag over a tricolor was flying from the battery’s pole. A crowd of townspeople appeared to be menacing the British sailors in the battery, but they could see the Marines, as well as a party of armed sailors guarding the open rear of the battery. As they went close by the merchant brig they had come for, its flag came fluttering down.

  Phillips ordered an armed boat crew into a boat to take the brig. As soon as they were on the vessel and had its crew under control, the ship continued toward shore. A couple of mounted men in uniform had ridden up to the crowd menacing the captured battery. One of them pulled out a short carbine and fired an ineffectual shot at the men. The seamen and Marines answered with a volley and a few members of the crowd fell. When another shot came from the crowd, Phillips ordered a gunner’s mate, who had been left on the ship, to fire a forward gun at the crowd. The gun roared and the ball hit the ground a few score yards before the mob. The ball bounced right over most of the crowd, but knocked over a file of people in the rear, leaving a few people on the ground. The screaming mob disappeared into the village and Phillips told his men to hold their fire.

  Going ashore, he learned from his men the sequence of events. It seemed as the men were marching on the road past the village, a pair of dogs had menaced them. They made such a racket that some villagers came out of their homes. Since the crew had just come up on the battery, they had attacked its unguarded rear on the run. The artillery men had not been able to get to their small arms and either surrendered or ran away directly. However some brave souls in town had opened fire with whatever weapons they had and a half dozen people from the Exeter had been killed and wounded. After some of the snipers had been eliminated, the rest ceased fire.

  Braddock was put in command of the defense and men were sent into the village to find whatever military equipment and supplies were available. The gunner was given the order to do as much damage as he could to the guns of the battery. The guns were already loaded, so he maneuvered one around so that its muzzle was inches away from a trunnion on another gun. The men were ordered behind the earthen embankment in front of the battery. The gunner pushed his vent prick down through the touchhole, to make sure the flash had a pathway into the main charge. He pushed a length of slow match down the touchhole.

  Covering the area around the touchhole with a heavy dam
p cloth, to make sure sparks from the match did not prematurely reach the charge, he cut the fuse to the length he wanted and looked around, making sure nobody was unprotected. He himself was close to the embankment, so blowing on his match, he touched it to the match protruding from the breech. As soon as that started burning, he ran up the embankment and dived over. It took a few minutes for the fire to reach the charge, but then the gun went off with an almighty explosion.

  The gun slammed back on its trail and came back down, intact. The target gun was torn spinning from its carriage, with an iron trunnion gone and a big divot in the breech. Two other guns in the battery were served in the same manner. Finally, the gun surviving was loaded with a double charge of powder, with a pair of eighteen pound balls down the muzzle. Wooden wedges were jammed in, freezing the balls in place, then earth was pounded into the muzzle.

  When finished, again the men were hidden behind the embankment and again the gun was touched off. Again the tremendous explosion and the breech of the gun had burst open.

  After examining the carnage, the gunner found one gun that could just possibly be fired again. It still had a bit of a trunnion left. He pulled a hardened steel spike from his pouch and hammered that into the touchhole of the gun just as far as it would go. He struck the spike from the side, breaking it off. When Phillips examined the guns, he could think of no way any of them could be fired again, without a great deal of work first.

  The people searching the village had returned. One obvious target for destruction was a ship on the stocks, its frame in the process of being clad. A warehouse had been found, holding such materials as baled raw wool and casks of oil. He had one cask rolled over to the stocks and oil splashed liberally around the hull. His servant, Jones, came running up asking if he could have one of the bales of wool. He could see no earthly use for the material, but had no time to debate. Nodding to the man, he watched as a crew put fire to the hull, setting a blaze that would prove impossible to put out.