A Continuing War_At Home and at Sea, 1803-1804

by John G. Cragg

  “Yes, sir?”

  “The Baltic trade. Naval supplies. Stockholm Tar, timber and so on. Very important even though much of our tar comes from America and some from tar-pits. Much of it carried in neutral bottoms.* Can’t interfere with that, though with the French coast under blockade we have turned a blind eye to privateers seizing those ships near the ports. But much of it is also carried by our own vessels, and recently they have been disappearing. Pirates or privateers, we don’t know which, but certainly more have vanished than can be accounted for by storms and shipwrecks. I am shifting two of the frigates away from the Flemish coast to farther east. Impetuous is one of them. You’ll be patrolling off the mouth of the Skagerrak along the Danish coast. Mithradates, Captain Blenkinsop, will be patrolling between the Skagerrak and the Thames. You are senior to Blenkinsop. Since he will be coming here regularly, he will be reporting to me. He will meet you at a rendezvous you will determine. He has gone ahead, and will meet you off the Skagerrak in two weeks’ time. Remember that most of the shipping will be neutral, but you will have to check them to make sure that they also have not been taken, whether they are neutral or captured British ships.”

  At this point, a hail was heard from outside, answered by a cry of ‘Medusa’.

  “Ah,” said the Admiral, “Captain Brown must be arriving.”

  In a few moments, Captain Brown was ushered into the Admiral’s cabin. He was a thin man who looked to be in his forties, with graying hair and a face that said its habitual expression was discontent.

  Admiral Gardiner introduced Giles to him and continued, “Captain Brown, you have just joined the Fleet coming from the Nore, have you not.”

  “Yes, sir,” was the reply, though Captain Brown’s expression expressed annoyance at being asked a question whose answer the Admiral should have known already.

  “Did you happen to send a press gang ashore while you were at the Nore?”

  “Yes, sir. I was short of men as a result of several being injured or dying on my previous cruise.”

  “Captain Brown, did you obtain a warrant for the gang?”

  “No, sir. There wasn’t time and the office was closed.”

  “The pressing took place in Chatham?”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Did it succeed?”

  “Only partially, sir. We only got three men.”

  “I see. Let’s see your muster roll … Yes, here we are … Coswell, Harrison, and … I am having trouble reading the third name … looks like Caten … but it could be Baten? First name is clear enough – Timothy, but it rather looks as if the first letter of his surname has been written over. Do you know him, Captain Brown?”

  “Yes, sir. He was about to be flogged when your summons arrived. The sentence will be carried out when I return.”

  “What was his offence?”

  “Talking back to an officer and refusing a valid order.”

  “Oh, dear. And I see he is listed here as able. What was he saying?”

  “He claimed that he was already on a Navy frigate and shouldn’t be pressed. My lieutenant, who was in charge of the press gang, says that he was passed out drunk when they took him.”

  “Was he? What was the name of your man, Captain Giles?”

  “Timothy Baten, sir.”

  “Then we had better get the man in question over here, shouldn’t we? And your lieutenant, Captain Brown. What is his name?”

  “Drew, sir.”

  “Send the signals, Mr. Arbuckle. Now gentlemen, while we are waiting, would you join me in a glass of Madeira?”

  A very uncomfortable interlude for the two captains ensued. Admiral Gardiner seemed to be unaware of the tensions in the room, as he talked of the grouse shooting he had enjoyed recently, the scandals involving other admirals or senior captains, the prospects of the French coming out, rumors that the King’s madness might be returning, and so on. Before too long, however, the boat from Medusa arrived and Lieutenant Drew and a rather scruffy-looking seaman were shown into the cabin. The seaman was notable for a black eye and a large bruise on his cheek.

  “Mr. Drew, I gather that you were in charge of the press gang that descended on Chatham,” the Admiral began.

  “Aye, sir”

  “Did you press this man?”

  “Aye, sir, we found him in a tavern and he put up a bit of a struggle, yelling that we had no right – well, those weren’t exactly his words, sir.”

  “And then?”

  “He was subdued, sir, by being hit on the head with a cudgel. We then carried him to the boat and took him and the other two we had caught out to Medusa. In the morning we had to pour a bucket of water over him but he still seemed confused. I got his name for the muster roll, but he objected to being enrolled saying he was already in the Navy. He spoke pretty rough to me, sir, and refused to be silent, so I had him put on remand. Captain Brown sentenced him to three dozen lashes. They have yet to be administered, sir”

  “I see. There seems to be some confusion about his name. Is it Baten or Caten?”

  “He told me Baten, sir, or, at least, that is what I thought he said, but Captain Brown said it must surely be ‘Caten’ and had me change the muster roll accordingly.”

  “Captain Giles, I suggest you return to your ship with Baten here. Do not leave the fleet until you get my written orders.”

  “Aye, aye, sir”

  As he was leaving, Giles heard the Admiral resume, “Captain Brown, this is a very serious…” The door closed behind them before he could hear more, but clearly Brown was in for some sort of tongue-lashing.

  The Flag Captain was on hand to bid Giles farewell. “This is your man?”

  “Indeed he is.”

  “Admiral Gardiner has not been pleased with Brown and must be delighted that you caught him out. I wouldn’t worry about any enemy you may have made. Brown’s influence has been on the wane.”

  As the ceremony greeting Giles on Impetuous ended, Baten shyly approached Giles.

  “Thank you, Captain. I didn’t expect that you would look out for me.”

  “You’re welcome, Baten. Better see the doctor about your wounds, especially your head. And I’ll tell your officer that you should only have light duties for a day or two.”

  “Aye, aye, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  “What was that about, sir?” enquired Mr. Milton.

  Giles explained. He was surprised by the lieutenant’s next remark, “I wonder if Captain Brown is about to be relieved of his command.” Giles hadn’t seriously thought of the possibility, and certainly Milton wasn’t about to be made captain of a seventy-four or likely to be affected by whatever changes occurred. However, Milton’s remark proved prescient. At two bells of the afternoon watch a signal was flown from the flagship ordering Mr. Milton to report to the Admiral.

  Giles restrained his curiosity with difficulty. It was highly unusual for a first lieutenant to be summoned by an admiral of a fleet without his captain also being required. What did the Admiral think that Milton might know about the taking of Baten? Giles’s puzzlement was only increased when Carstairs reported that Milton was returning with another lieutenant in the boat. Curiosity got the better of him so that he went on deck even as the boat was hooking onto the side of Impetuous. Milton ascended the ladder first, so he must be the senior of the lieutenants. If Milton was surprised to see his captain on deck awaiting him, he did not show it.

  “Captain Giles, may I introduce Lieutenant Hendricks? May we see you in your cabin, sir?”

  Giles led the way below and slipped behind his desk.

  “What is it, Mr. Milton?”

  “Sir, I have been appointed master and commander into Swan.”

  “What wonderful news, Mr. Milton! I confess that I shall be very sorry to see you go. You certainly deserve to get your step. What has happened to Captain Duncan?”

  “He has been made post captain, subject to confirmation, and appointed to Midas.”

  “That is more good news. She is a fri
gate is she not, captained by Captain Archer?”

  “Yes, sir, a thirty-two. Captain Archer is named to Medusa, sir.”

  “And Captain Brown?”

  “I am told that he will be going ashore, for health reasons, sir. His first lieutenant, Lieutenant Drew, seems to have caught the same malady, and will also be going ashore.”

  “I see. Well, again congratulations, Mr. Milton. I have been very happy to serve with you. It does, of course, leave me without a first lieutenant again. Mr. Miller is still very junior.”

  “Thank, you sir. I agree about Mr. Miller, though in time he will make a splendid premier. That is where Lieutenant Hendricks comes in.”

  “Mr. Hendriks? Yes. I did wonder what you were doing here.”

  “Yes, sir. Admiral Gardiner appointed me to you. I was third on Medusa.”

  “I am very glad to have you. I am sure Mr. Milton will be happy to introduce you to the wardroom while his things are being gathered. I hope you will sup with me later in the day so that we can get to know each other better.”

  Lieutenant Hendricks appeared to be a rather nervous man, about twenty-five years old. He was the son of a doctor in Hull. The nervousness might be put down to being suddenly placed in a new position with a bit of a cloud over his head with the sudden changes in the officers of Medusa. It might also come from being appointed as first lieutenant on a crack frigate. More disturbing to Giles than the nervousness was the revelation that all of Mr. Hendricks’s service had been in ships of the line and that he had never seen combat. There was, of course, nothing that Giles could do about that. However, he would have to be careful to give Mr. Hendricks more explicit instructions than he usually would need in orders to his First Lieutenant. The interview was pleasant enough, and when Mr. Hendricks settled in and became used to Impetuous’s ways, he might well become a good shipmate.

  Impetuous received her written orders just after dawn the next day. There was a fresh breeze from the north-west and Giles, even without reading the orders, told Mr. Hendricks to make sail, all plain sail to the royals. In the usual fashion, Mr. Hendricks bellowed the orders to accomplish this, hoping that the other lieutenants and the petty officers would know what to do in detail. A minute later, after consulting the master, Giles gave the course to the helmsman. He turned to Mr. Hendricks, “We usually let the petty officers trim the sails on this ship, unless there is something unusual, though the first lieutenant has to make sure that they are, in fact, doing the right thing.”

  The first lieutenant was surprised. On Medusa the lieutenant of the watch used to fuss over the petty officers, even though the petty officers certainly knew what had to be done. Hendricks watched in astonishment as the top men raced up the masts while the landsmen prepared to trim the sails. They seemed happy to be performing the tasks, and there was none of the low-level grumbling that had accompanied any general order on Medusa. It took Hendricks a few moments to spot what struck him as really unusual: the bosun’s mates were not “starting” anyone with their rope ends. In fact, they did not even seem to have rope ends. Instead, they were participating themselves where an extra hand might speed up some operation. He would have to get used to Captain Giles’s ways, but they seemed to be effective. What was clear to Mr. Hendricks was that the Captain expected to have the ship running in top-notch condition and it would be up to him to make sure that this occurred, even though Mr. Milton had told him that the Captain did not think flogging improved performance or morale.

  Chapter XVII

  Daphne’s lassitude kept returning during the first few weeks of January. It certainly wasn’t like her, but she had to make a conscious effort to feel real interest in the two estates. She started to think that possibly she should get a steward for Dipton Hall to lighten her load. Not that she wanted to abandon her interests, planning and management of the agricultural activities, but some of the routine work was getting to be less satisfying as she became more familiar with the needs and cycles of farming. She also wanted more time for planning with Mr. Griffiths.

  Daphne’s usual enthusiasm started to return as the days lengthened and the first hints of the coming spring became evident when she was going around the farms. The urgency which she felt to get the facilities for horse breeding and training was mitigated when Mr. Griffiths pointed out firmly that nature’s schedule did not correspond to an eager young woman’s. Producing a colt took eleven months from start to finish and then it would take time before the offspring would be ready for training. Had Salton Masham Grange’s brood mares been available, the endeavor could have got off to a major start that very spring and the plans would have to be developed and be implemented quickly. Things could be more relaxed now that that possibility was closed.

  “Unfortunately, we don’t have much to start with right now,” Mr. Griffiths remarked regretfully. “There are two mares that would be excellent. Stallions are not the problem. You can always arrange for a good stallion, for a fee. A single stallion can service upwards of two hundred mares in a year, though usually they do not have such a heavy schedule, partly because mares are not always fertile and there are good and bad times of the year to have foals.”

  “Which are the two mares?” Daphne asked.

  “Serene Masham, of course, and Moonbeam.”

  “Yes, I wouldn’t want to be without either, though I won’t be using Serene often in the summer, when there is no hunting.”

  “You told me that Moonbeam was bred on your father’s estate, did you not, Lady Giles?”

  “Yes, she was, but I don’t know which horse was the sire. It was an unintentional breeding and it could have been any of four horses. Moonbeam’s dam is Moonshine.”

  “Does your father still own the horses?”

  “Yes, he doesn’t like selling them.”

  “Do you think he would allow me to examine them to see if I can determine which one is Moonbeam’s sire?”

  “I’m sure he will. I’ll ask him next time I see him. He probably would allow you to breed them again if you wanted. I can see that is what you have in mind. Very likely he would let me have Moonshine. He doesn’t need her now that I am married, but I suppose that we should get some mares of our own as soon as possible. I never realized how long it takes to produce a foal.”

  “That would be a good idea, my lady. There are several auctions in the winter that might have promising mares.”

  “Then I will suggest that Captain Giles think about it in my next letter. I really want his approval at each step of the way.”

  The next meeting of the Hunt came along, and Daphne rode in it, while Lady Marianne and her daughters demurely followed from afar. For them, the prime attraction wasn’t the hunting, but the mingling with the other riders that took place before the hunt started. Lydia and Lieutenant Charles seemed to zero in on each other and act as if no one else were there. By contrast, Catherine seemed to be very distant with Captain Hicks and more welcoming to some other officers from Lord Moresby’s Regiment. Daphne was finding Major Stoner less objectionable. That may have been the result of his remark, “You have a very good bottom, Lady Giles, very good! As good as any man in the Hunt.” She had been about to take offence when she realized that the Major was referring to how well she could ride.

  Even the failure to be invited to the Hunt dinners had ceased to bother her. Lord David’s enthusiastic description of the gatherings had quite convinced her that she would not have enjoyed them and her presence would simply have put a damper on the enjoyment of others. It seemed as if these dinners were simply a longer version of what happened at other dinners when the ladies had withdrawn, with a greater consumption of alcohol in proportion to the lengthier time. Mr. Summers kept fussing over the details of the ball, even after Daphne had assured him that all was in hand.

  A marked change for Daphne came one day in the middle of February. She awoke feeling poorly even before Elsie pulled the drapes. Almost immediately after getting out of bed, just as she was handing her nightgown to Elsie, s
he was overcome with a wave of nausea. She only just had time to grab the chamber pot before she vomited into it. As the heaving ended she realized that that was not the most pleasant receptacle in which to put her nose.

  “Elsie, we had better have another chamber pot here,” she announced, remembering that she had not felt well the previous morning though she had not had to throw up. “I don’t know what is the matter with me. I’m never sick.”

  “Oh, m’lady. I wonder if we have caught something. I was sick first thing in the morning, too, and I am not feeling very well right now. Should we call Dr. Vardour?

  “No, not that quack. Let’s see how we feel later. I am feeling quite a bit better already.”

  The next day brought the same problem, and for Elsie too. Elsie also complained that she had felt sick in the middle of the day. On the third day, Daphne finally became worried. “Send for Mr. Jackson, Steves,” she ordered when she came downstairs for breakfast.

  The apothecary arrived soon after Daphne completed her breakfast. He examined her, asked some questions about her time of the month and then stood back. “Daphne, you have the only woman’s problem that I am happy to diagnose.”

  “What? Am I sick?”

  “Not really sick. No, I wouldn’t say that.”

  “What is it? Stop teasing me.”

  “You are with child.”

  “I am? But I’ve been throwing up every morning.”

  “Yes, that is one of the symptoms. It is called ‘morning sickness’. Didn’t you know?”

  “No. No one told me.”

  Jackson realized that having been brought up without a mother, by a father who might be supremely ignorant about any of the details of human reproduction, Daphne might well have no idea of what she was going to encounter as a result of being pregnant.