Far Foreign (The Duty and Destiny Series, Book 9)

by Andrew Wareham

  The Governor was sympathetic – he had long believed that promotion in the Navy was an erratic business, owing too much to good fortune, too little to careful planning.

  “Mr Elphinstone, one of our great merchants, has a country ship of some six hundred tons, one of the largest, running as far as Canton on occasion, regularly to the Cape. His captain has died of one of our many fevers and he has no reliable younger man to put in his place. Was your man to so choose, then he could make a very good living indeed, Sir Frederick, far better than as a lieutenant, and with no fear of ten shillings a week half-pay in a Portsmouth boarding-house for his old age.”

  “I will speak to him immediately, Your Excellency. I am well up for officers in the squadron and can replace him easily. A round of promotions will be very popular, as goes without saying, thus to give an additional benefit. He is a deserving man and will, I very much hope, take this chance.”

  Wickham spoke to Mr Elphinstone that afternoon, came back in the merchant’s boat with a pair of servants to collect his dunnage.

  “I am to read myself in, or whatever one does in a merchantman, in the morning, Sir Frederick! I am to earn three times as much as I now do, sir, and I am to have a share in the profits of each voyage. Ten years, sir, and I may retire to England and live in comfortable ease! Thank you, sir!”

  “You deserved better of the service, Mr Wickham. I am sorry to see you go, sir, for you are a very good premier. But I am happy to have been able to help you to the comfort you have earned. I wish you joy of your future life, sir!”

  “Sir Iain, my Mr Wickham has gone to a country ship as her captain and is to make his fortune in the commercial line, so I have a vacancy in my wardroom. My senior boy has only four years in and I am not yet willing to give him his commission, the more especially because his brother steps into the premier’s shoes. Have you a young man who could make Fourth for me?”

  “One boy with six full years under his belt, sir, but I had rather see him become a master eventually, sir. A good lad, in his way, but he lacks enterprise, which, one presumes is why he has yet to face his Board. I do have a master’s mate, a young man of twenty or so, who would do very well. Off the lower deck, made up for his natural virtue – able to read and write and work his tables easily, sir. He was brought aboard as a volunteer when he was no more than twelve years of age, though I know not why – it was before I was read in by some years, of course, and there has been none to tell me the story. I suspect he was of some minor family, something close to the County by his way of speech. Young Mr Tate would meet your needs, sir.”

  “Send him across, if you would be so good, Sir Iain. Now, Sir Iain, have you a chart of the Ile Bourbon? We are to beat up her coasts, for the benefit of the Governor here. It would appear that many privateers are in the habit of using her ports and they have become a nuisance of late. There seems, from the chart, to be a dozen of fishing harbours around the coast, all of which might be used by a small ship. If the storms come upon us, then we might be forced into any one of them for shelter. The word is that some have batteries to protect them, but which I know not. I am inclined to split the squadron, one half under your command to work the east coast of the island, the rest to follow me up the west.”

  They agreed that was an excellent scheme; they would meet off the largest town, or seemingly so from the chart, of St Denis. It was a small island and they could use their gunbrigs to keep in touch with each other.

  “Thus, sir, the aim is to take batteries where they exist and then to enter the harbours, if they have anything worthwhile in them. We would aim rather to sink the privateers than prize them, I think. They will be small, schooners and the like of less than one hundred tons as a rule, I would expect, like those we took on Madagascar, and not worth the effort of carrying them to a prize court.”

  “I would expect that to be the case, Sir Iain. There may be merchant vessels to take, though I am told it is not the season for sugar yet. I think this will be simply a case of sink, burn or otherwise destroy, and possibly cause a sufficiency of annoyance that the harbourmasters will discourage private ships of war in future. I believe that there may be a substantial garrison on the island, and we may amuse the French by provoking them to march from town to town in our wake. If, of course, we see troops and guns waiting for us, then we simply sail away to the next harbour but one, or two; we do not have to take them in strict sequence, after all.”

  They gave that question some slight consideration and decided it might offer some enjoyment; they could run the French to near exhaustion at no cost to themselves.

  “You must take Mr Vereker and young Dench, Sir Iain, and which of the gunbrigs will you choose?”

  “Warsash, if you will, sir. She has a bright young lieutenant commanding, a Mr Freeman if you remember, who will be reliable with despatches. I do agree, sir, that Mr Windsor will be better off under your eye. I believe he may have been the least bit fractious when junior to Mr Vereker on their little voyage to the Cape.”

  “He may well have difficulties with subordination, Sir Iain. I believe I may be able to cure him of his little problems. Mr Vereker must have learned a greater degree of tolerance than he was used to have.”

  “I seem to remember him to have slight patience with fools, sir.”

  “Does Mr Windsor qualify as such in your opinion, Sir Iain?”

  “I understand him to be longer on mouth than on sense on occasion, sir. He has been heard to announce his importance more than once when in company in Bombay.”

  “Evidently he must inform people of his stature for fear that they would not otherwise notice.”

  “Just so, sir.”

  “What of the other two, Sir Iain? They have seemed almost invisible – sufficiently efficient to bring no rebuke, so ordinary as to attract no notice.”

  “Harmon of the sloop Pincher – there’s a name for a naval vessel! And Powell of Growler brig. Both have dined with me onshore, in the nature of things, sir, meeting by offchance in an inn at the Cape and here in Bombay and sitting to table together. Unofficial gatherings at which they have been able to relax, something they could not do in the great cabin. Pleasant young men, sir, though Harmon may in fact be older than me! Both much in awe of your reputation and nervous to come to your attention for fear of not meeting your standards. I would have no hesitation, sir, in giving them responsibility. I do not know if Mr Harmon merits post-captaincy, but I am quite certain that Mr Powell could be given his swab as Master and Commander if the occasion should arise.”

  “Good. Thank you, Sir Iain. The problem with rising in rank, you know, is that one is forced to keep a distance from the younger men. Five years ago and I would have known both far better than I can now. Both vessels, by the way, were bought into the service just before the Peace of Amiens and kept their names. They were sold off when a ship-owner died without an heir; they had been in the Baltic trade and were strongly built for the occasional meeting with ice and so more suitable than most to carry guns. I was told that they were named for the owner’s dogs, he being fond of his animals and unwed as well, so having no other favourite creatures.”

  “Speaking of which, sir, the unwed, that is, your Lieutenant Petersfield might have been a fraction indiscreet in the company he kept in Bombay. There has been some disapproval of the dolly-shop he was seen to frequent; there are those indeed who referred to the house as a molly-shop!”

  “Oh dear! I am aware that he is said to have such inclinations – but so, after all, have so many among us in the service! I shall mention the matter to Mr Dalby, my new premier, and beg him to suggest, tactfully, to Mr Petersfield that he must exercise discretion in his amusements. Perhaps he should delay his entry into such places until after dark at least.”

  “Yes, sir. No doubt all will soon be forgotten. ‘Least said, soonest mended’ as I have heard more than once. Provided only that he does not exercise his inclinations aboard ship then there will be little to concern us.”

  “There
has been not the slightest whisper of such, Sir Iain. Mr Wickham was, I know, alert to that possibility – in the circumstances, one must be. I am sure the man will be aware of the need for concealment; a pity it must be so, but that is the way things are.”

  Frederick made a quiet resolve that, should a large enough prize be taken, then Mr Petersfield should have the honour of taking her in. Was he to be sent to Bombay, for example, then he would in all probabilities never be able to rejoin Endymion and would be posted to another ship in need of a lieutenant. The deaths from fever in the Indies were such that he would, with even a little fortune, rapidly be promoted – it would be to do the young man a favour. It was very easy to quieten his conscience, in fact.

  Frederick’s Standing Orders to the squadron were amended for the duration of the Cyclone Season. Was a great storm to come upon them and the squadron to be separated then all ships should run north, seeking the shelter of East India Company ports in the Red Sea. There was to be no attempt to hold any original course to the Ile Bourbon or the Cape.

  The verbal that accompanied the written orders pointed out that the squadron was sailing to no fixed set of times, there was no date appointed for them to reach the Cape. It occurred to the more perceptive among the captains that Sir Frederick might prefer to reach the Cape later rather than early. They wondered why.

  The squadron sailed in its two flotillas, practising station keeping in their new order. The sole difficulty to be overcome was familiar already – the two seventy-fours were slugs and the smaller vessels were continually reefing and taking in sail to avoid over-reaching them, for there was no greater sin than to forge ahead of the senior ship.

  Two weeks out of Bombay they spoke three Indiamen who told them of empty seas but of storms to the south. They had changed course twice, they said, ending up to the north of their desired track to avoid probable cyclones, or hurricanes as the old-fashioned insisted on calling them, thinking the whole world to be the same as the Sugar Islands.

  “Useful to know, Mr Dalby. You have checked the suit of storm canvas, of course, sir?”

  “Sails has done so, sir. No rat damage and all are immediately to hand, sir.”

  “Very good. Officer of the Watch to be reminded to call me at the slightest sign of a storm.”

  “All three are aware, sir, and the Master is keeping a close eye on the barometer.”

  “Very wise, Mr Dalby. I must say that I have no wish to experience a great storm in this ship. She did not behave quite as I might have desired in the half-gales of the Atlantic.”

  “Mr Mason has given much thought to the matter, sir, and has a more appropriate sail-plan in his mind, or so he hopes, sir.”

  “Very good. Let all officers be aware of his intentions – it will make our response quicker and more certain.”

  “We may well not come near a storm, sir. They do not come every year, after all.”

  “Very true, Mr Dalby. Yet I very much hope not to experience a storm in this ship, and that makes it almost a certainty that I shall. The least desirable possibility is always the most likely outcome, after all.”

  “Ah, yes. Sod’s Law, sir – ‘that which can go astray, will, and quite probably already has’.”

  “Just so, Mr Dalby.”

  The master reported the barometer to be falling rapidly just two days later.

  “The question arises, Mr Mason, of altering course. We will not take a more southerly bearing, as goes without saying, but should we make our way due north, or perhaps north-west, even north-east?”

  “The wind is veering, sir, into the south-west. The book says that the southern Indian Ocean cyclone takes its track in an arc from south-east to due west, generally speaking, eventually to lose its force on the shores of Africa. It may, however, reach the African coast to the south of Madagascar or almost at the shores of the Red Sea. There is a corridor, or so one might describe it, several hundreds of miles in width down which the storm may travel. My advice, sir, would be to put our head due north. Bearing in mind Endymion’s sailing qualities, sir, we do not wish to be directly before the wind.”

  “Make it so, Mr Mason. Inform the squadron, Mr Dalby. Should we order storm canvas yet?” He answered his own question. “Yes, I think so, better safe than sorry, I believe. All hands, Mr Dalby! Set storm canvas and instruct the squadron to conform.”

  The lighter tropical canvas was to be removed, sail by sail and replaced by the heaviest weight storm suit of sails. It was hard, tedious labour and would eventually have to be reversed; the topmen would not thank Frederick for the order.

  “Strike topgallant masts, Mr Dalby. We can save a little of the labour thus.”

  “What of topmasts, sir?”

  “No. Bare poles will suffice, I would imagine if the winds should rise to full gale or more. I much hope to avoid the worst, however. Guns, Mr Dalby. Double the breechings and bowse them tight up to the sides. Warn the Gunner and Mr Mockson that they must be ready for the ship to pitch and roll. Tell the Surgeon as well to be ready to tie his patients into their hammocks. Hell and damnation! I almost forgot! Warn Jemmy Ducks to look out for his beasts, to tie down the chicken coops at least.”

  The wind grew in strength but remained in the south-west and Mason gave his opinion that the eye of the storm was many miles to their south and was showing very little of north in its track. Endymion rolled heavily and pitched only a little, Mason pointing out, several times, that his new sail plan had much improved her handling.

  “Nothing on the mizzen, sir, and the forecourse with two reefs rather than three as had been our wont, and a pair of storm-jibs, sir. Maincourse set, although three-reefed, sir, so that we can make a reasonable speed, thus to avoid being pooped, as had happened more than once in the German Ocean, sir. I would estimate a good five knots, sir.”

  “What is your opinion of the cloud, Mr Mason?”

  “Darkening, sir, certainly, but you will observe it to be heaviest somewhat to the south-west of our position, sir, the storm progressing across our stern and remaining to our south.”

  The wind slowly veered through the day, was accompanied by very heavy rain, was a strong south-easterly as night fell.

  “Less than gale force, Mr Mason?”

  “Easing a fraction, sir. The rain is lessening as well, sir. We may see lightning to the south as the light fails, sir. It is very probable that we have avoided the worst of the storm.”

  “Very good, sir. I am glad indeed that we have done so. What is the prospect of a second such?”

  “There will be others, sir, every season generates its cyclones, but I believe it to be rare that they follow a similar track.”

  “Even better.”

  The Carpenter reported an extra foot of water in the well; even the relatively moderate rolling they had experienced had caused the hull to work sufficiently to allow a greater inflow.

  “Inform the officer of the watch that he must pump, Mr Dalby.”

  The second, whose watch it was, heard the order but it would have been discourteous not to pass the word through the premier, he being on deck.

  “Inform me if it takes more than two hours to reduce the water to its accustomed level, Mr McDonald.”

  It was possible, but unlikely, that there was an actual leak and it was as well to be alert.

  All of the squadron was present at dawn, having been able to maintain station on the lanterns at Endymion’s mastheads. Frederick was pleasantly surprised, had in fact expected that the smaller sloops and brigs would have been driven far distant.

  “Course for Ile Bourbon, Mr Mason?”

  “East South East, sir, initially. We may wish to modify that a point or two when we have taken our noon readings, sir our position relying on dead reckoning, for the cloud cover allowing no sights yesterday. The winds suggest that there is a strong possibility that the cyclone may have passed close to Ile Bourbon, sir.”

  That posed a difficulty; it would be the height of inhumanity to descend upon a coast that
had been battered by a massive storm and was still in the early stages of recovery. It could not be done, and, in fact, if they discovered the ports to be much harmed they would be obliged by custom to assist in rescue and the provision of food and water to the survivors. That might cause difficulties with the politicians in London, few of whom were renowned for their attributes of humanity and decency.

  “Mastheads to be warned to observe the shoreline carefully and to inform me of any signs that the cyclone has felled trees or caused flooding, for example. If such is to be seen, do not close the shore.”

  The wisest course would be to play least in sight; the squadron would take itself off and avoid the obloquy of attacking the unfortunate and the political unwisdom of giving succour to Bonaparte’s people.

  “Heads you win, tails I lose, Mr Dalby. Whatever action we take we shall be in the wrong. Thus, we must take no action at all, and that is wrong too.”

  They closed the port of St Denis, saw certain evidence of destruction and fled; no privateers would be sailing from there for months, they consoled themselves.

  They set course for the Cape, making no effort at all to hurry.

  “We must beg the use of the Cape’s dockyard, sir, for we were tossed about a little at the edge of one of the great storms. The Mauritius and Ile Bourbon were directly in the track of the cyclone, it would seem, sir, and will not be harbouring private or national cruising ships for some space of time, which we shall all be pleased to hear.”

  “We want no French squadron on our coast, sir, especially just now when I have no more than a pair of sloops and a nearly useless Fourth Rate on station! The remainder have gallivanted off to South America, no less – under command of Admiral Home Popham, whose financial state is an open secret and who would most certainly welcome his shares of a shipload of Peruvian treasure!”

  Frederick made no comment.