True Colours (The Third Book in the Fighting Sail Series)

by Alaric Bond

  "They must hold a goodly number," Banks said, his tone flat and dry.

  "I’d say there were five in total, sir," Newman commented. "Say fifty men in each; mind not all will be seamen."

  "Not all will have to be, providing they can reach our stern."

  Banks’ estimate was nearer to seventy-five per boat, but even going on Newman’s figures, Pandora’s depleted crew would be outnumbered.

  "We can rig stern chasers in the great cabin, sir."

  But the captain shook his head; unless Pandora could be freed from the sea bed, anything they did would only prolong the agony.

  The clack of the capstan’s pawls slowed slightly, as the cable rose up from the sea and began to tighten. The gentle trickle of drips told how water was being squeezed from the hemp fibres as the strain increased. There would be no time to retrieve and reset the anchor; the boats would be on them long before they were even half way through. This attempt would have to work. Otherwise Pandora would be lost, and every man in her, taken.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  "BELAY heaving there!" Banks’ shout was unexpected and caused every man on the quarterdeck to look to him as he strode across to where the launch and cutter were just arriving alongside Pandora.

  "Mr Caulfield, I’d be obliged if you would secure your boat to the stern; you also, Mr King." Even the addition of the six oared cutter would make some difference.

  With the shore boats heading toward them, time was even more vital. A line secured to an anchor and pulled tight by a capstan was far more mechanically effective than any tow powered by oars. Adding the cutter and the launch to the pull would endanger them and their crews, for no great additional effect, although any increase would mean that much less pressure on the stream. And if the anchor’s hold was to shift, Pandora would be lost for certain.

  The boats were manoeuvred into position, and fresh cables attached at their stern sheets. Banks rejoined Newman and they both peered at the faint smudges of grey that were slowly becoming identifiable as oncoming boats.

  "Still a fair way off, sir," the marine said. "But the artillery has ceased."

  That was true, so much had been going on that Banks had almost forgotten about the sporadic, but constant, barrage they had been enduring from the shore guns.

  "Ready, sir!" Caulfield’s voice came from below, and Banks immediately bellowed for the marines and afterguard manning the capstan to continue to wind in the cable.

  "Pull! Pull!" Caulfield was setting a staggering pace but the men in the boats were equal to it, and rowed for all they were worth, causing the waters to boil about them as the boats remained stubbornly stationary.

  The capstan’s pawls clanked once, and once again, then were silent. The strain must now be at the highest; it was just a question of what would shift first, Pandora, or the anchor. "Pull! Pull!" King was joining Caulfield now, the two officers all but screaming at the men who were already sweating as they dug deep into the cold waters of the North Sea. Another clank came from the capstan and another, almost grudgingly, after that. Then, with a flurry that made everyone think the line had parted, the cable began to roar in.

  Banks looked back at Fraiser. The darkness meant there was no vantage point on shore to take accurate bearings. Either the anchor had lifted, or they were finally free of the sea bed.

  "Cease rowing!" Caulfield’s voice; Banks glanced down to the boats, to see his second in command waving back at him.

  "Ship’s free, sir!"

  He released a long pent up sigh; Pandora had been brought off the bar with no discernible jolt: certainly it had been a far sweeter removal than their arrival. "Very good, get all back on board as soon as you can; we will have company shortly." Banks turned from the boats, there was little need and no time to explain further. "Mr Fraiser, you have Mr King’s chart?"

  "Indeed sir." Fraiser spread out the notes that Lewis and King had made in front of him.

  "Then prepare us for getting underway, if you please."

  The boatswain’s pipes shrieked; many were still engaged with the boats there was a shortage of hands, but all on board knew the danger they were in, and made for their stations without orders, urging or protest. The launch would have to be hauled in first; men from the capstan went automatically to the yardarm tackle, while King manoeuvred his cutter beneath the quarterdeck davits.

  "Abandon the stream," Banks ordered; in truth there was not the time for it to be raised; the cable was released from the messenger, and wormed noisily out through the stern gallery, finally flopping into the sea just as further shots began to rain about them.

  "They must have light guns mounted in their bows." Banks shouted at Newman. "Can you return?"

  Newman touched his hat. "I can get my men to fire at the flashes, sir. But it is devilishly long range, and we will be giving them the mark."

  "So be it; they might be slowed."

  At a word from Corporal Jarvis six of the marines formed up along the taffrail and began sniping at the boats while the launch was swayed up. The cutter was next, and was almost empty of men; King had sent the crew aboard Pandora as soon as they had attached the falls. It would only need to be winched clear of the water, and Pandora could be underway.

  "Make sail!" Banks bellowed; courses and topsails were set, and instantly began to fill in the offshore breeze.

  "Thank goodness we still have the wind," Banks muttered at Fraiser who nodded; he too had been giving thanks. Slowly the ship took life as the water began to mutter about her stem.

  "Starboard four points." Fraiser said in a soft, steady voice. The helm was put over, and Pandora began to follow the course that King and Lewis had marked out.

  The firing from the quarterdeck had slowed now, as the boats were being left behind, although the Dutch continued to take pot shots at Pandora as she eased her way back to deep water. One hit the cutter; a crack was heard, followed by the clatter of splinters, but no one on the quarterdeck paid it any great attention. It was only a ship's boat, and could doubtless be repaired or replaced. Besides, the Dutch craft would be unlikely to carry anything larger than four pounders, and the range was lengthening all the while.

  "Very well, Mr Newman," Banks said. Newman touched his hat and Jarvis ordered the marines to cease-fire. The deck was suddenly still, seemingly for the first time since Pandora had run aground, so many hours ago. The ship slowly gathered way until she was once more racing through the water, as if glad to be back to her natural element. The wind blew through the shrouds and stays, making the sweetest, most welcome music Banks had ever heard. Fraiser smiled gently at his captain, and Caulfield finally joined them on the quarterdeck. The captain shook his hand. "Gallant effort, Michael," he told him. "My thanks and the thanks of all on board."

  "I think you will find it a joint effort, sir." The lieutenant said, slightly more stiffly, and his expression was surprisingly serious. "But I fear I have bad news."

  "Really?" Banks could think of little that would diminish the feeling of elation he was currently experiencing.

  "Yes, sir. The last shot hit the cutter as we were moving off. Mr King was apparently knocked over the side. Cribbins went as well; he’s a strong swimmer, as I think you know."

  "And..?" Banks felt the disgrace and shame of the past few hours returning, now to be joined by a sickening dread; if anything had happened to King he would never forgive himself.

  Caulfield opened his mouth but said nothing for several seconds.

  "Come on, man," the waiting was just too hard to bear. "Tell me what happened!"

  "I’m afraid we lost them both, sir."

  * * * * *

  The wind stayed in the east for three days and nights. For the most part Pandora dodged the shallows to the north of Texel island, putting out to sea at pre-arranged times, to return less than four hours later, beating back to the south, to patrol Stork’s station for a spell. On most occasions she would have changed her appearance in some subtle way; her ensigns switched from blue, to red, to wh
ite, a predominantly marked topsail was replaced, only to be re-set hours later and on one occasion she proudly flew a commodore’s pennant. Meanwhile, still anchored in mid channel, Adamant and Venerable kept up a meaningless conversation with ships just beyond the horizon, ships that, if the Dutch had any knowledge of British signals, were increasing in number and strength on a daily basis. Circe was the most energetic of all, constantly departing with orders and requests, only to reappear hours later, carrying answers, and further questions from commanders of various squadrons in the fleet. To anyone on shore the appearance was that of an egotistical enemy, dead set on luring the gullible Dutch within the range of their guns. If the enemy warships anchored just inside the harbour had been from France or Spain, the plan might well have backfired. But the Dutch, even under the banner of the French run Batavian republic, were professional and calculating. Many years of sailing the same waters had given them a natural understanding and respect for the Royal Navy: a professional service, very similar to their own, and one they would never have believed capable of such outrageous deception.

  And so with a well run fleet and an army and transports prepared, and with Britain effectively defenceless, the enemy remained in harbour, held back by an old man, two antiquated warships, a couple of small frigates, and some false flags.

  Banks remained extremely active throughout; indeed it was his example that kept the crew of Pandora as busy as they were. Despite being short-handed, no officer spent as long on the quarterdeck as he did; being there for all of the day, and most of the night. He even took to eating scratch meals while standing next to the binnacle and talking with the officer of the watch. Lewis was brought up to act in King’s place as watch keeper, and the other officers did what they could to cover his remaining duties. The continuous activities were such that there was no time for formal meetings; no grand dinners eaten at the gunroom or captain’s table, nor any real chance to reflect and consider what had happened and, in Banks’ case at least, who ultimately was to blame. But they all missed him, and the captain, whose hurt was heightened by regret and not a little guilt, missed him more than any.

  News came on the fourth day, just as the wind had finally shifted. Banks woke from an hour’s sleep; one of two he had allowed himself that night, and came up and on to the quarterdeck as dawn broke. They were to the south of the Texel, at the end of the Schulpen Gat and about ten miles from the spot where Adamant and Venerable were thought to be continuing their vigil, when the flagship’s topmasts were first sighted. By six bells in the morning watch they had made contact and were heaving to, with Circe and the cutter Rose in attendance. Banks was transferred to his gig and prepared to visit his admiral.

  Once more the bosun’s chair was swung towards him, but this time Banks thought better of it. The sea was relatively calm, and he opted for the gangway port and a more dignified arrival. There was just a momentary feeling of doubt as he reached for the damp steps; to miss his footing now must result in a dunking and then the subsequent interview, spent sitting wet and steaming in front of Duncan, would be far more discomforting than any lift. But he had made up his mind and, in his present mood, cared little if such an indignity should occur. In fact, as he clambered up the side and pulled himself in through the port, he realised that secretly he would almost have welcomed such a public humiliation.

  Fairfax and his second lieutenant were there to receive him, and along with Hackett, captain of Circe, and Brodie, the lieutenant in command of the cutter Rose, Clay led the visitors through to the admiral’s quarters.

  Duncan was there when they arrived; he looked up from his desk with a smile of genuine pleasure, rising to meet them and shaking each by the hand before indicating the waiting chairs.

  "Gentlemen, be seated please, Menzie will bring refreshments presently. You’ve had a busy time of it?"

  None of the commanders were over thirty, and it was hard for them to regard Duncan as anything other than an affable and supportive father. He listened to each report with attention, commenting approvingly on specific points, but not missing a mild censure when everything was not quite as he would have liked. When it was Banks’ turn there was respectful silence. Of all of them, he was the only one to have actually engaged with the enemy. Shots had been fired, and taken in return; damage had been done to his ship and… And men had been lost.

  The admiral nodded gravely, steepling his hands when Banks had finished; nothing was said for a moment. Then he drew a deep sigh, and his expression lifted just a little.

  "It is a sorry tale, Sir Richard. Mr King was a promising officer, and I am sure we all regret his loss. However he died doing his duty and I am certain none of us would deprive him of that, nor wish to go in any other way."

  "Sir," Banks persisted. "I feel I was at fault."

  "At fault?" Duncan’s expression was one of genuine confusion. "Because you ordered your boats to assist the men at the capstan? They ran a risk, to be sure, but it was a risk well justified by all accounts. Better to expose the crews of a cutter and a launch to occasional fire than risk the loss of your ship. And you did everything necessary to get those men back on board; you could hardly have abandoned both launch and cutter: I seem to recall you having lost one boat already," he smiled suddenly. "And a frigate without amphibious abilities is severely restricted in her usefulness."

  Banks opened his mouth to say more, but Duncan stopped him.

  "Or is it because you overruled the advice of your sailing master? Yes, I thought that could be weighing heavily upon you," he turned to the others. "Perhaps this should be said in private, but I feel we are all experienced officers, and some might benefit by Sir Richard’s situation," he looked at the younger man. "You have no objection if we discuss this matter?"

  "No sir." Indeed he had not. There was a lifetime’s command experience stored up in Duncan’s ample body, and recent events had taught Banks just how little he knew.

  Duncan considered the officers in front of him. "Tell me is there any one amongst us who has not done the same in such conditions? I’m not necessarily talking about events that caused loss of life, but taking a slight risk, using your intuition, or instinct; something that would be called brave and inspired were it to succeed and rash or foolhardy should it fail." Banks looked about the cabin, and noted the shy smiles and nodding of heads. "Hindsight is a wonderful thing, Sir Richard." Duncan had turned back to him now. "’tis the pity we do not have it prior to an event." The general laughter broke the spell a little, although the admiral’s expression remained serious. "You were concerned that Mr Fraiser was being slightly too careful; it is understandable, and one of the attributes of a good sailing master. You, however, are a frigate captain, and not expected to choose the safer course; indeed it is almost against your nature, or should be.

  "I might remind all present that you do not command East Indiamen full of wealthy and cosseted civilians; what you have are warships: and warships are crewed by fighting men. You have a duty to risk those ships – and those men. And on occasions they might come to harm; but that is not necessarily your fault. No one regrets the death of Lieutenant King and the seaman more than me, but I would find it far harder to bear if Sir Richard’s action had been truly slipshod, or were he wanton in his ways." The smile returned, and he fixed Banks with his eyes. "And were that the case, I doubt that you would be feeling quite so full of remorse."

  The admiral drew back. "I tell you to think no more of it, sir. And that, if you like, is an order." His expression was deadly serious again. "I speak to you all, and mean what I say with my heart. An officer who does not concentrate his energies on defeating the enemy is of no use to me, nor the British Navy. You must forget the incident and continue as if it had not occurred; there is not the time for self recrimination or regret: we do not have the luxury of such elegances: do I make myself clear?"

  The silence hung about them for several seconds; then Duncan spoke again. "Gentlemen, there is more to say. I have not left the Texel completely unatt
ended. At first light we were joined by Russell and Sans-Pareil, both seventy-fours, as I think you know. Russell brought word from Captain Trollope that things are moving on a pace at the Nore. They have yet to reach a settlement," he added quickly, raising his hand. "But I think we might look for one in the near future. Henry Trollope is more than confidant of his own people; tells me they are doing all they can to make up for what passed before, and he is ready to trust them in battle." Duncan smiled. "Four capital ships and your own assistance will not hold the Dutch, but I feel we can be slightly more confidant than we were a few days back."

  His attention switched to Banks. "Sir Richard, I am pleased to tell you that Russell has a replacement cutter for you, as well as a draft of twenty-five men. The Admiralty will be making arrangements to replace your purser, although that might take slightly longer. I have also secured a suitable man to serve as second lieutenant; he is currently on my books in Venerable, although he has been ashore as his father passed away. Rather than take him back I will lend him to you for a spell. Duty aboard a frigate might wake him a little which, between ourselves, would be no bad thing."

  Banks nodded. "Thank you sir, we have been considerably undermanned."

  "Then I trust that will make matters a little easier. Now, if we have nothing else to discuss, I propose that you all repair to your ships and return to the Dutch coast without delay. Venerable and Adamant will remain here for a spell, and probably join you in a day or two," he gave a quick smile. "You can expect us to be wearing different ensigns and, who knows, maybe a change of paint?" There was the murmur of shared laughter as the young men left the great cabin. Duncan watched them go in silence before returning to his seat behind the desk.