Sails Across the Sea: A Tim Phillips Novel (War at Sea Book 8)

by Richard Testrake

  The reason for his presence became apparent. Eckersley said, “Captain Phillips, our Sovereign has brought to the attention of the First Lord of the Admiralty his desire to have you present yourself in his court. Apparently he has become an admirer of some of your recent actions. Now, the First Lord, Charles Yorke, has become aware of certain talk concerning your mission to the Eastern Mediterranean last year. He made clear that while he knows nothing officially of certain events and is adamant he does not wish to know, he feels it best that you do not meet with King George.”

  “The First Lord feels the press may unearth certain issues that should not see the light of day. I may say that certain members of your old crew, in their cups, have discussed events that should remain hidden. I have managed to locate some of these people and they have been taken aboard King’s ships destined to undergo long voyages. For now, this talk has been dismissed as idle rumor. If the press investigate closely there is no telling what may come out.”

  “My intention, when I have opportunity to do so, is to quietly give you command of a King’s ship when matters have quieted and send you off to sea again. This, I cannot do at the moment. However, King George sometimes has a short attention span. Can you go somewhere that you will not be noticed for a time, while I arrange this?”

  Phillips reminded him of his parent’s estate in Essex. Lord Eckersley thought that would be ideal and told him to give his clerk notice of where he could be reached. Phillips wondered about his ship. Eckersley asked if his first officer was capable of commanding her for a brief period until another captain could be assigned. Phillips assured him that was the case, but Hardesty had not taken his boards yet.

  Eckersley grumbled something about what another lieutenant more or less meant to the scheme of things, and said he would ensure Hardinger passed the examination.

  Commanding him to remain out of trouble and to attract no attention from the press, Lord Eckersley bade him goodbye.

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  Back at the town house, Tim found his father with his feet up with another brandy in his hand. Asked about his session with the First Lord, Phillips said he was being considered for another command. For now, he was ordered to remain out of sight. Would it be possible for him to return to the Essex estate and remain there until called to his new ship?

  John assured him he would be most welcome and suggested they leave first thing in the morning. When Tim suggested they take the chaise, his father demurred, suggesting they would be more comfortable in the coach. The coach was presently at the livery where its enamel finish was being restored, but thought it likely to be finished by now.

  John sent the pot boy to the livery with instructions to have the coach and its driver sent around at first light next morning.

  When Tim rose the next morning, he found a selection of firearms and their accoutrements from the gun room had been laid out on the breakfast table. His father reminded him of the time years ago when highwaymen had waylaid them on their way to the estate. Stating he did not wish that to happen again, he asked his son to choose his weapons.

  The most lethal looking weapons appeared to be short-barreled, bell mouthed blunderbusses. Phillips had seen then in the gun room many times but had never fired one. His father explained. “Some people think the purpose of the belled muzzle is to enable the shot to spread out more.’

  ‘The real reason is to allow the person firing to reload the weapon in a hurry. If you are in a coach, perhaps up on top, with the horses at a run, the coach swaying and a highwayman closing in, if you miss with the first shot, you merely pour a handful of powder down the bore, drop in a handful of swan shot, slam the butt of the weapon against the dashboard, which will likely jar a bit of powder through the vent into the pan. Now, all that needs done is pull back the cock, present the weapon to the bandit’s face, who is now presumably riding beside the coach with his pistols out, and fire. If you do not blow his face off, you will likely frighten him to death.”

  When the coach arrived. The servants loaded the vehicle and father and son selected their weapons and boarded. Tim thought the blunderbuss was a bit more than the task required but took it to please his father. He took a pair of ornate duelers his parent offered him and his sword. John carried beside the blunderbuss, an ornate, silver mounted rifle. Tim had fired this weapon in his younger days and knew it was capable of knocking a man down at 300 yards.

  The driver and footman boarded and they set out. His father owned four matched bay geldings for drives in London. But for this trip, he hired four rather rough looking coach horses that would carry them at a good clip for miles. When they did tire, they would leave them at a posting in and take on fresh animals. Phillips did not care to leave his own expensive animals in the care of a seldom visited livery until he was able to come back and retrieve them.

  The first leg of their trip passed quickly, their being still much to talk about. The horses were changed at a relay point twenty miles down the road, and they were off again after each downed a pint of ale in the inn and visited the necessary.

  Halfway to the next relay, heir driver had stopped to rest the horses at the foot of a hill. It had rained recently and the roadbed was soft. With the wheels sinking into the mud, it was difficult for the animals to pull the weight of the coach up the incline. As the men continued the conversation, while the horses rested, the driver shouted down. “Road agents!” and popped his whip. As the coach accelerated up the muddy slope, Tim noticed some men sitting their horses in the cover of a copse on the right side of the road. There were four of them, and they spurred their mounts after the coach.

  John turned to his son. “This is why we brought the weapons. Hold your fire until they come up to us. The footman has a double barreled fowling piece loaded with swan shot. One of the bandits may come up from behind and attempt to board us from the rear, Barney’s job will be to dissuade him. They will probably come up on either side and threaten us. Maybe kill a horse to stop us. When you are sure of your shot, shoot to kill. If you miss, load again or take up another weapon. These people are deadly serious. If caught, it is the gallows for them, so it is no concern to them if they kill one or all of us.”

  As the coach rocked along, having now crested the hill, there were meadows on either side of the road. A gaping shepherd with his flock stared at them as they passed. With a curve in the road, the highwaymen left the road and raced cross country in the meadow, scattering sheep in every direction. Now closing in, the men separated, with two men on the right, one on the left and another coming up behind. Tim put his head out the window, to judge how close the man behind was.

  When the racing bandits approached, there was a loud shot from the top of the coach and Tim saw the trailing horse lose his stride for a moment. Continuing on, another shot sounded a second later and the horse went down at once. Kicking and thrashing, the horse had his rider pinned underneath.

  Now a rider had appeared on the left side of the coach, where Tim was seated. The bandit was riding with a pistol in each hand, and the reins in his teeth. Unsure how this weapon patterned, Tim fired a little early. The cloud of smoke gushed out the muzzle at the shot but the man kept coming. Frantically, Tim grabbed for the powder flask by his side and poured an enormous charge into the bell muzzle. A handful of shot was dropped down the barrel on top of the charge. Had he been using an ordinary musket or fowling piece he doubted he would have been able to reload in the rocking coach.

  The weapon charged, he rapped the butt stock sharply against the floor, presented the weapon out the window, and there was the fellow racing for all he was worth just outside, only feet away with an enormous pistol in his right hand. Praying there was enough powder in the pan to fire the main charge, he pulled back the cock and pulled the trigger again. This time, there was a noticeable delay, but then the priming flared and the weapon fired with a loud explosion and a vicious recoil against his shoulder, The smoke disappeared instantly, swept away from the racing coach, and Phillips saw the
bandits face turn from a white blur into red ruin and the large shot destroyed his head.

  In the same moment, his father’s weapon sounded. Phillips grabbed his pistols to see if he needed to do anything on that side, but the sole remaining highwayman was racing away up the hill, His companion was lying in the meadow behind the coach and the fellow’s horse was heading across the meadow by itself. At the summit, the sole remaining bandit stopped his horse and looked down, probably to look for his companions. Phillips senior shouted for the driver to stop the team and pulled up his rifle and rested it on the window frame.

  The weapon had three rear sights, each adjusted to a different range. Selecting one, he raised it, took careful aim, and fired. The man’s horse jumped forward, and his rider remained on its back for a few steps, then fell off like a sack of corn.

  Reloading their weapons, the driver, footman and the Phillips stepped over to view their handiwork. Two of the three outlaws were dead. Another lay under his still thrashing horse, with broken bones but still alive. John put the horse out of his misery with a shot to his head. The driver and footman produced a rope which they tied to the dead horse and fastened to the coach. The injured bandit’s groans turned into a scream as the horses pulled the dead animal off him.

  There was a brief debate about what to do with their trophies. In the end, with nobody enthusiastic about climbing the hill to retrieve the distant body, a good three hundred yards away, the dead were left where they had fallen, and the injured one was loaded into the carriage. Neither father nor son wished to remain in the coach with the sobbing felon, but the footman volunteered. He had reloaded his fowling piece and kept it ostentatiously trained on his victim, although, it was difficult to see how the fellow could escape or harm anyone with his broken limbs.

  More screams issued from the injured highwayman as the coach got under way, rocking on the uneven ground, but the footman assured him his pain would go away quickly the next day when they hung him up.

  The horses, being blown from their dash up the hill with the heavy coach, were kept to a walk. When they came to a village, they asked for the magistrate. They were directed to a sprawling manor house on the edge of town. A servant asked their business. When informed, he went over to a huge brass gong, with East Indian goddesses decorating the surface. He struck the metal with a heavy mallet which created a noise that probably could be hears for miles. Phillips had seen a similar object on his voyage to the East.

  Eventually, the magistrate came riding up with his daughter. A young woman of about sixteen or so. Introduced as Mistress Susan, she eyed Tim speculatively. He kept his thoughts to himself. He had enough problems on his plate without adding another in the form of this young woman.

  Apprised of the situation, a wagon was produced and horses led out for the men to ride out to retrieve the bodies. There were only three horses available in the stable fit to ride, the pair ridden by the magistrate and his daughter having been ridden hard all morning chasing a fox. The girl wished to ride with the men to see the bodies, so Tim offered to stay behind to watch over the prisoner. Emily pouted when he declined to go with the others, but she did not offer to remain behind also.

  Before the men rode out, Tim wondered what he should do about the injured highwayman. The magistrate answered. “Not much you can do, son. I am going to ask you to stay over tonight. We’ll have the inquest in the morning, right after that is over, we’ll have the trial, and hang the fellow up in the afternoon. I’m not sure what we’ll do about the gallows. It’s been a few years since we’ve used it and the overhead beam does not look right to me. I’d hate to see it break with the weight of this fellow.”

  “When we get back, I’ll ask my people if we have a good beam around that will suffice.”

  After the party left, Tim thought he should stay by the prisoner. He soon became depressed by the fellows sobbing and pleas for mercy. He assured the man there was nothing he could do for him. He had chosen his fate when he chose this life. Eventually, becoming tired of the man’s noise, Tim climbed on top of the coach and retrieved a bottle from his bag. It contained a quart of the white liquor he had bought for the ship’s crew back in Simonstown at the cape.

  Since he had purchased it he had developed a taste for it, and had come to enjoy a drink of it in the evening. The bandit, while he suffered from a compound fracture of a leg and a simple fracture of his upper arm, still had one hand he could use. Pulling the cork from the bottle, he handed the man to take a drink. The man coughed and spluttered when it went down, but he soon took another sip. He kept drinking until the bottle was half gone. Turning maudlin then, he started crying for his mother. Phillips could not decide whether he disliked this man’s theatrics more drunk or sober. The man passed out before the bottle was finished so he replaced the cork, just in case the fellow needed a drink the next morning.

  The party returned at dusk with the bodies. The magistrate said he would send a work party of his ne’er do-wells to dig a pit and bury the horse the next morning. Nobody commented on the unconscious man. Phillips wondered they did not smell the drink on him, but the man’s smell had been pretty rank before he had a drink, so perhaps they thought that was his normal smell. In the end, they did not need to hold the inquest for the fellow the next morning. He had died during the night lying on the stable floor and was stiff and cold in the morning.

  The horses had had a rest overnight, and given fresh hay and mash in the morning, were ready to resume their journey.

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  It was good to be back home again. His mother was happy to see him but had few words to say to her husband. His parents had had their ups and downs over the years. Apparently this was one of her ‘down’ days. John, being used to the silent treatment, ignored his wife. That afternoon, Tim had the groom saddle one of his father’s hunters and rode over to see Charlotte Norris, a neighbor woman who had filled an important part of Tim’s childhood. At times, when his real mother was having one of her episodes, Charlotte served as a sort of default mother, giving him the love and affection his own mother could not.

  Charlotte was a wealthy woman with a young son. She did have a husband somewhere who had not been seen in years. She had been impregnated by one of his father’s old seamen, a capable man able to do almost anything a person could wish. He served her in various capacities for years. The man loved Charlotte deeply, but she had not wished to encumber herself with another man, so gave him the position of manager of an estate elsewhere in the county which she had foreclosed on. Both parties seemed content with the relationship and Tim knew better than to comment or ask.

  He wished to speak to Charlotte about investment advice. They had spoken last time he had visited about purchasing property and he had left her a large sum of money with which to purchase whatever she found. Most people would find this was a strange and foolish way of doing business. After all, he had given her a case full of large bills without even asking for a receipt.

  He was sure the funds were safe in her hand and was perfectly satisfied with the arrangement. After their enthusiastic greeting and another greeting with his younger sister Abigail, who lived with Charlotte, she called for horses and announced they would all ride over to look at some property. The place was an hour’s ride away, and the trio had a chance to do much reminiscing on the ride.

  Initially, it was a disappointment to Tim. The house and outbuildings were in poor repair, apparently having been built centuries before from stone blocks taken from the ruins of a long crumbled castle on a nearby hill. The meadows and fields seemed fertile and were presently being utilized by numerous red cattle. Charlotte pointed out, while a new roof was needed, the basic structure was sound. She felt that a team of good workers could have the buildings in good repair within a month. She invited him to ride out to examine the fields and meadows, and they spent the afternoon riding the boundaries. The previous owner had died leaving no heirs. She had purchased the estate from a young man who owned a note against the prope
rty. Apparently, the young man’s father had loaned money to a friend that owned the property. The funds were never repaid, both parties had died and the young man just wanted to go to London and live on the money as long as it lasted.

  Although provided with enough money to pay for it by Tim, Charlotte had used her own funds to pay for it. She said if Tim did not want it, she would gladly keep it for herself. If he did want it, she would sell it to him for what she had paid. She offered to have one of her people supervise the repair of the buildings while he was at sea next.

  Unable to say much about his real reason for being home just then, he told Charlotte and Abigail there was a little difficulty that made it difficult for him to remain in England for lengthy periods, at least for the time being. He assured them he had done nothing criminal and the First Lord was assisting him to secure another ship. He did expect a summons any day now to take command of a ship.

  Tim and Charlotte rode into town where they met Charlotte’s solicitor. After signing the papers, Tim was now the owner of his own place. There was still enough of Tim’s funds in Charlotte’s possession to pay workers to make the necessary repairs.

  After all the events of the past week, Tim was exhausted but elated when he rode back to his parent’s place and informed both he had purchased his own place. John knew it well, having ridden by it numerous times. His mother wondered if she could come and stay with him. Not knowing just how to answer this, Tim told her the place was just a pile of stones piled on each other. It would be necessary to do major repairs before it became livable.