“It should stand by a bit to the south so it will not mask our guns. I also would like a spring on the anchor cable. Our port broadside should bear on the beach where our boat is landing.”
This last would entail some trouble, as it called for running a cable via the capstan through a rear port, then forward to the anchor cable itself. A turn of the capstan would turn the long axis of the ship. The ship’s broadside could be shifted from one aiming point to another in short order by men heaving at the capstan.
The master had remained by the helm, with his night glass focused on the jolly boat, now nearing the shore. He warned, “Landing party ashore now.”
At that moment, there was the blast of a gun on shore, followed by the crackle of musketry. Phillips roared, “Fire on that gun and reload with grape.” As the broadside crashed out, three more guns on the beach fired at the jolly boat, which was trying to get off shore. Phillips quietly ordered Braddock to sweep the beach with grape.
The guns continued firing until no further fire from the beach was apparent then he ordered the launch to investigate. From the Exeter, the jolly boat appeared to be dead in the water. The master approached with his night glass extended, “Sir, I can just see men on the beach road. Don’t see any guns.”
Phillips took the glass, but had a difficult time with it. The image it showed was upside down and hard to decipher. None the less, the order was given to buoy the cable and let slip. The ship would follow the retreating men down the beach path, firing as they sailed.
It was difficult for the fleeing enemy to escape. The ship was faster than they could travel. Some tried to climb the cliff, but a blast of grape soon ended that plan. Some tried to take refuge in the water, but even when hiding underwater a few inches, the grape could often find them.
When the ship finally gave up the chase and returned to the landing beach, the launch was waiting for them. The jolly boat was drawn up on shore. As Ackroyd reported, she had taken much of a charge of grape, killing or wounding half her crew and leaving the boat in a sinking condition.
Ackroyd had beached the jolly boat, giving such aid to its crew that he could, with the launch standing just offshore covering the area with the boat gun. While searching the beach, his men discovered the bodies of Fitzhugh and his men. The bodies had been riddled with the musket caliber grape the French were using in their light field guns.
Phillips oversaw a burial party to lay his dead to their final rest, but decided to leave the French casualties to their own people. One wounded enemy officer was found and brought aboard ship. He had a lot to say. It seemed the M. D’Orleans, the Viscount’s friend, had been captured early on and forced to pen letters to Britons who might wish to aid him.
When he had finally refused to write more, he had been summarily executed. The letters written to Fitzhugh and his friends were inspired by the area’s radical political leaders for the sole purpose of sabotaging British efforts to bring the war to the continent.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Battle by Land and Sea
It was a blustery fall day when Exeter found the Thunderer, close-hauled to a strong westerly wind. In the absence of instructions from her, Phillips came in astern and followed the battleship. Later that same day, the lookouts spotted a brig, hull down to the west. As she drew nearer, she signaled her number to the liner, which Exeter’s new signal midshipman also read.
Mullins reported, “She’s gun brig Bulldog, sixteen guns, Sir. Lieutenant Drummond commanding.”
“Well, we will no longer be the junior ship on the station”, Phillips mused to the master.
Next morning, Lieutenant Braddock, coming up from the wardroom, noticed signal flags flying from the Thunderer, with Exeter’s number prominent. With no one from the signal crew on the quarterdeck, the outraged officer screamed for Mullins who was meditating up forward in the heads. The signal yeoman, who had been nattering with one of his friends jumped to his station, read the signal from memory and reported to the first officer, “Signal to Exeter and Bulldog, ‘Captains repair on board’.”
Phillips had heard the exchange while in his cabin and was now on deck in his new coat and a decent hat, a report on his failed mission with Viscount Fitzhugh under his boat cloak. He ordered, “Get an acknowledgement hoisted and the launch lowered.”
The Bulldog with a more alert signal crew had beaten him to the flag by a good five minutes. Phillips climbed the side of the line of battle ship and saluted Captain Astor to the twittering of boatswain’s pipes and the stamp of Marines. A rotund lieutenant in a rather ancient uniform was standing beside the captain and Phillips guessed this was the gun brig’s captain.
Astor ushered them both to his quarters and his servant put glasses of wine in their hands. While his captains were sampling the wine, Astor looked briefly over Phillip’s documents. He expressed his condolences over the death of the Viscount. “You say the French knew about our plans, all along?”
“Yes sir, According to a French officer we captured, the friend of the Viscount was captured early on. He penned those letters to Lord Fitzhugh at the command of the French political officials in this district. When this friend refused to write any more letters, he was executed forthwith.”
“Dreadful business. Do you still have the weapons you were to deliver?”
“Yes sir, they were never landed. Apparently the trap was sprung early. Presumably because the Viscount was met by French soldiers, rather than the partisan he expected. It was pure carelessness on their part. We captured four of the French army’s field guns, about four pounders. We eliminated their crews with grape. The gun carriages were damaged too badly, so we burned them as well as their limbers. Those horses still alive were sacrificed. The guns were brought aboard ship.”
“Well, I am dreadfully sorry for the loss of the Viscount and his people but the success of this mission was never counted upon. Coming to other matters. I would like you to meet Lieutenant Drummond, commanding Bulldog, of sixteen guns.” During the ensuing conversation, Phillips learned the Bulldog was fresh out of ordinary and the new officer, Drummond, was right off many years on the beach.
“Gentlemen”, Captain offered, “I have just learned from orders delivered to me a few moments ago by Captain Drummond, that I will be the Commodore of this band of Merry Men.”
“I have not yet told my first lieutenant, so you will have to wait a bit to view my broad pendant. However, I do want to explain my wishes to you without further delay. Thus far, the French fleet has not honored us by making an appearance. Perhaps they are in the same straits as us, attempting to get old, worn out ships from ordinary and to find trained seamen from wherever they have taken themselves.”
“Whatever the reason, it is our duty to make their efforts as difficult as possible. Their coast roads are in deplorable condition and they will find it much easier to transport men, provisions and materiel by coastal shipping rather than by foot or wagon.”
“Captain Drummond, you may not know as yet, that Captain Phillips has recently made a pretty penny for himself and his crew by capturing a brig that was hiding in a small bay north of here.”
“The brig’s captain apparently thought he was safe, since the bay was guarded by a battery of four eighteen pounders. Captain Phillips sent a landing party ashore at the next inlet and his people marched along the coastal road and attacked the battery from the rear. After his party secured the battery, the Exeter entered the bay and her people took the brig and the town, capturing some much needed sailcloth and timber in the process.”
“I wish to see actions like this continued. Thus, I am sending the two of you on a cruise, to see what mischief you can get into. You will patrol between Le Havre and Brest, causing as much harm to the enemy as you may. I will expect you back here in two weeks with a report.”
Phillips asked Drummond to stop by the Exeter on the way to his own ship. There, he had his servant lay out some wine for his guest. He was no longer embarrassed by his quarters, as the carpenter h
ad finished with his cabinet work and he now had storage space for his clothing and gear. He did need more cabin stores to entertain guests, but that could wait until reaching port. The limited stores he had purchased from the naval outfitter were enough to stave off total embarrassment.
The first lieutenant and master came in with the charts and a council of war begun.
The plan, as it developed, called for the two vessels to sail easterly along the coast, right around the Cotentin Peninsula and on toward Ushant. Generally, the Bulldog would remain as close to shore as practicable, perhaps flying the French tricolor, while the Exeter would remain farther out.
Initially, the plan worked well. The Exeter’s lookouts spotted a hull-down sail at seven bells in the forenoon watch. The ship spotted was barque rigged and heading toward a small port at the head of a sheltered bay to the east of the Cotentin Peninsula. The barque was close-hauled to the off-shore breeze and it appeared the ship would, with the advantage of her rig, make port without needing to tack.
Exeter steered slightly away to avoid appearing threatening. The Bulldog, making to windward a bit, as if she too was trying to make the same port, appeared innocent as a lamb, with her tri-color flying.
As the Bulldog approached the target, the barque became suspicious and tried to put the wind on her quarter and get out to sea, but the Exeter was already there and now showing her proper colors. The Bulldog came up, with a bone in her teeth and guns bristling, while the barque’s master was dithering. Bulldog’s tri-color dropped and she hoisted the British Union also.
At that, the prize-to-be let fly her sheets and surrendered. Bulldog’s captain went aboard to inspect, as did Mister Braddock of Exeter. Reporting back, Braddock itemized the cargo as sawn timber, tanned hides, shoes and harness; a valuable prize indeed.
To make matters better, she had a mixed crew; some of them, Dutch and Germans, seemed willing to change loyalties and ship under the British flag, instead of the Tri-color.
Leaving Braddock aboard Exeter, Phillips went aboard the prize. Drummond reported he had found six members of the Bonne Citoyenne’s crew who were willing to serve in the British Navy in lieu of being sent to the prison hulks, but he hated to leave the men aboard the prize, in case they had a change of heart later and tried to retake the ship.
Phillips thought a moment and said, “Send me three of them and you take the other three. We can then make up a prize crew with people from the Exeter and Bulldog. Do you have anybody to take command of the prize?”
“Well, pondered Drummond, “For navigation officers, I have only my first lieutenant and master’s mate, besides myself. But for my sawbones, I have a surgeon’s mate, who once served on a slaver as mate. I’ve had him on the quarterdeck taking sights and I’d warrant him to bring the ship to port safely.”
“Fine.” said Phillips. “I have a good bosun’s mate who is a fine seaman and I’ll throw in some prime topmen.”
“I believe I can furnish the rest of her crew,” said Drummond.
The warships began transferring the men and their sea chests, with all being complete by mid watch. At first, the enemy battery fired a round occasionally as a warning, but with the offshore breeze pushing them out to sea, that soon died out. None of the balls had come anywhere near them and Phillips thought their battery commander was just using the occasion as an excuse to exercise his gunners.
Before parting, Phillips met with the new captain of the prize, the former surgeon’s mate with the boatswains’ mate acting as the second in command. “Before we part, are you gentlemen confident you can make a British port safely?”
Both men agreed they could do so, Phillips addressed Taggart, the prize master. “Mister Taggart, you have your position and copies of our charts. As to seamanship, you will listen carefully to whatever advice your second in command, Mister Montgomery has to impart. Are we understood?”
After again agreeing, Phillips bade them both goodbye and briefly conferred with Drummond before going over the side. “Captain Drummond, I’d like to discomfit that battery ashore that has been potting at us. We will set sail as though leaving and once around the headland, I would like you to come alongside and we will confer.”
That evening, the ships came together after the sun dipped below the horizon and Phillips gave his orders. “Before sunrise, I will take a party ashore to deal with that battery. I propose to land on the shore road a mile or so from the battery and march the party along it until we arrive at the location. You will take Bulldog to the bay and demonstrate in front of the battery, taking care to remain out of range.”
“You may want to have your remaining boat approach the battery in a threatening manner. You may attempt to make the battery’s gunners to believe they might be attacked from your boats. When you hear our attack, at your option, you may give us fire support with all due discretion. I would like it if you would not send any balls past my ears.”
With the details out of the way, Phillips took aboard Drummond’s first officer, Mister Marshall and some of the Bulldog’s landsmen, to fill out the landing party. The party went into the boats, at the start of the middle watch. Four hours later, the oarsmen were resting on their oars just offshore.
With no undue sounds apparent other than the lapping of the surf on the beach, Phillips gave the order to close the beach. Not wanting to make unnecessary noise, he had his landing party go over the side in waist deep water. He savagely remonstrated with a couple of men who thought it appropriate to exclaim loudly about the cold water. When the party got to the road, he put those men at the head of the column so they would have the best chance of being fired upon first.
The party trudged along the road for an hour, before he judged they were closing the battery location. Walking ahead of the party a hundred yards with the malefactors, he thought he heard men talking. When he saw a trail branching from the road toward the sea, he hurried back along the column warning the party they were about to halt.
Sometimes, a column of men halting suddenly, could cause men to jam up close together, with consequent confusion and noise. With a warning, Phillips hoped to prevent that. Mister Marshall had a little French and thought the voices heard came from sentries complaining about their corporal.
There was high ground toward the east and the sun would be a little late in making an appearance, but that did not dissuade a rooster the French troops had, from announcing his presence. Someone’s dog, possibly catching a scent, also began barking vigorously.
Phillips had designated Lieutenant Marshall as commander of his reserve force as well as the signal officer charged with signaling the ships. The dozen men of the reserve force would hold back from the initial attack and advance into the fray anywhere the attack seemed to falter.
There were shouts in the enemy camp as men called out epithets to the barking dog. Thinking this confusion was as good a chance as any, Phillips ordered Marshal to ignite the blue light as soon as he heard the party make contact with the enemy. The blue light was a wooden container holding a pyrotechnic mixture that would burn with a brilliant, blue flame. This would warn the ship the attack was starting and hopefully blind the defending soldiers.
As Phillips ordered the men to prime their weapons and advance, Marshall placed the blue light on a large boulder and raised his dark lantern. As the men started to run, one fool fired his musket, starting the dance, so Marshall opened the shutter on the lantern and ignited the blue light.
As cries of alarm came from the French camp, the pyrotechnic became fully alit and a glaring blue light lit up the night. When the attacking party swept through the camp from the rear, many of the erstwhile defenders broke and ran out the front. Some of those who stood and faced the attackers paid the price.
CHAPTER NINE
Securing an Enemy Battery
The attack was over in minutes. Basically, the landing party swept through the emplacement from the rear and the defenders ran out the front, into the forest on either side.
After
the initial excitement had subsided, Phillips and Marshall organized a defense all around the encampment. This was a new battery, probably in place for only a few weeks. A wooden causeway laid upon the sand showed where the guns and other heavy gear had been trundled ashore after being unloaded from the transport.
Men searching the shallows at the head of the bay found a swamped barge, abandoned there after the battery had been established. Phillips thought he had perhaps a day before enemy forces began to gather before the installation. He had planned to destroy the guns in the same manner as they had the previous battery, but his boatswain came to him with an idea.
“Sir, I think we can pump out that barge and load those guns on it. I think it will hold them. We could float it out into deep water and sink it. Bore a hole in the bottom and it will sink, right enough, or we could just fire a couple of musket shots through the bottom.”
Checking the chart, Phillips noticed there was an area near the mouth of the bay with a depth of ten fathoms or more. He thought that sixty feet of water was enough to prevent the guns from ever being found or raised.
His gunner had some hardened steel spikes in his equipment box. He set to work pounding a spike into the touchhole of each gun, then breaking each brittle spike off. Since the spikes were harder than the surrounding cast iron of the guns themselves, it would be a major job to return them to working order, even if they could be raised.
Men were put to work digging a channel into the beach at the foot of the causeway. His people found some heavy timbers laid into the parapet of the battery. The prisoners, upon being questioned, reported they had originally made up the big tripod that had been used to hoist the weapons from the barge.
On the King's Sea Service: A John Phillips Novel (War at Sea Book 1) Page 7