The Threat in the Baltic (The Merriman Chronicles Book 5)

by Roger Burnage

  The Merriman Chronicles

  The Threat in the Baltic

  By Roger Burnage

  Copyright Information

  The Merriman Chronicles

  Book 5

  The threat in the Baltic

  Copyright © Roger Burnage

  All rights reserved

  With the exception of certain well known historical figures the characters in this book have no relation or resemblance to any person living or dead.

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Chapter 1 - Capture of French Corvette.

  Spring the year 1800

  “Deck there, something on the starboard bow, a frigate I think Sir, no masts anyway”.

  The lookout's hail was clearly heard in the great cabin of His Majesty's frigate Lord Stevenage where her Captain James Merriman was trying to complete his report for the Admiralty on the events in Bombay and the Indian Ocean. His memory seemed to be playing tricks and he had just realised that he had omitted to include the full details of the capture of the first frigate in one of the enemy Indian ruler Tipu Sahib's shipyards. Glad of any respite from his tiresome task he hurried up on deck to see his officers gathered in a group on the quarterdeck and the Third Lieutenant, Shrigley, going up the ratlines like a monkey to the mainmast head. Finding room by the lookout who shuffled sideways to give him room, Shrigley opened his telescope and quickly found what the lookout had seen.

  “Captain Sir” he shouted, “definitely a small frigate but with its topmasts and mainmast gone. She is flying the French colours Sir.”

  “Thank you Mr Shrigley, stay there and keep me informed of what she will do. Mr Andrews, beat to quarters if you will, I'll take no chances.” “Aye-aye Sir” replied the First Lieutenant shouting the order. A young marine drummer immediately began the drumroll bringing about what to a landsman would seem to be a bedlam with men running in all directions at once. Crashes and bangs from below signified that all partitions and furniture and chests were being sent down below to clear space all along the gundeck from stem to stern. Men were gathering in their stations at the guns and others beneath each mast ready to go aloft to furl sail or whatever if the Captain ordered it. The marines assembled on the quarterdeck and fighting tops with their officers and on the order began to load their muskets. The bedlam resolved itself in minutes.

  “Mr Andrews, have the starboard battery loaded with round shot and run out ready and we'll approach her cautiously from astern.” As the Lord Stevenage neared the French ship she fired a single cannon shot but all her gun ports remained closed and a white flag replaced the Tricolour on the stump of the mizzenmast.

  “By God Sir, the Frenchies are surrendering without a fight” exclaimed the Marine Captain Edward St James. That one shot came nowhere near us”.

  “Probably fired for honour's sake so that they couldn't be accused of surrendering without a shot being fired” replied Merriman, “But remember the old saying, Bees that have honey in their mouths have a sting in their tails”.

  The French ship could be seen to be rolling heavily, broadside on to the waves and with no sails to give stability. The French coast could be seen as a grey line on the horizon and without help the ship was sure to strike the rocks. Closer still and the ship's rudder could be seen moving from side to side with the ship obviously not under control. The name was clearly seen painted on the stern, La Aigle Francaise. “Not looking to be much of an eagle now Sir”, remarked the acting fourth Lieutenant Gideon Small.

  “Indeed not Mr Small, you will go across with me. Mr Andrews, Mr St James, prepare parties for boarding, marines and armed seamen. I will go across with them.”

  The French captain was visible on the quarterdeck surrounded by his officers so Merriman seized a megaphone and shouted in the French he had learned from one of his prisoners in an earlier action some years ago. “Capitaine, I know you are flying a white flag but if there is any sign of treachery I will fire into you, do you understand?” The Frenchman waved his arm and shouted back “Oui M'sieur, we will not resist.”

  Boats were quickly lowered and filled with the boarding parties and on the crossing between the two ships Merriman ordered a petty officer and some men and Captain St James and some of his marines to secure the ship's magazine. Climbing onto the deck of La Aigle Francaise and surrounded by his seamen and marines with fixed bayonets, Merriman found the French crew sitting miserably on the deck with no weapons in sight. The captain and officers were in a group to greet him. The captain stepped forward, introduced himself as Henri Labourd and offered Merriman his sword.

  “Thank you Captain, my name is Merriman, James Merriman. You, Captain, may keep your sword but your officers should surrender theirs to this officer. They gloomily complied and St James soon had his arms full of swords which he passed on to his men.

  Merriman looked about him. The French ship was not a frigate but rather a corvette, a small frigate. The ship's mainmast had gone leaving only a stump and on both foremast and mizzen the topmasts had also gone. Strangely the ships boats seemed to have survived stacked amidships.

  He turned to Captain Labourd “What happened Sir, your ship is in a mess.”

  “Well Sir, we managed to slip out of Brest when a gale sprang up and your blockading ships were forced out to sea. Then a week later the wind changed and my ship was taken aback and the masts went overboard. If I had had a competent crew it would have been avoided”, said Labourd bitterly, “but most of them are not even seamen, men rounded up in the port and ordered aboard at bayonet point and were reluctant to carry out their orders even if they could understand them. Even some of my officers have come from the army with no experience at sea at all. The best men are the junior officers, what you call petty officers, but they were too few. Could we talk alone” he asked moving towards the bulwarks.

  There they were alone apart from Merriman's bodyguard of his cox'n Matthews and two marines, ready for any sign of treachery, Labourd said “I wanted to fight you but with my ship in such a condition I thought it would be a waste of lives. We are helpless to drift and couldn't fight as I would have done. Damn that fellow Napoleon Bonaparte, he thinks nothing of the navy, we have been denied spares of every kind, all he thinks about is his army. We have some of your English seamen secured below, I think fifty or so, they can be released. I would have ordered this done sooner but with no English officers I feared they would start to fight us.”

  By now they were speaking in English in the hope that none of the French would understand, but they were wrong. Suddenly one of the officers drew a dagger and ran at Labourd screaming “Labourd, you are no true Frenchman, you are a traitor and you must die”. He was spitted on the marines' bayonets before he got near either of the captains, but he managed to throw his dagger which struck Labourd on the shoulder but did no damage. The marines picked up the man's body and pitched it overboard.

  Merriman had been thinking about what he should do next but he quickly decided, “Captain Labourd, I am going to take your ship in tow with a crew of my own men and some of your prisoners. You have too many of your own men for us to guard safely all day and night so I propose to send them ashore except for fifty who will be confined below. Your boats appear to be in good order so they should have no difficulty but the men may have to be taken in two journeys. Your biggest boats have sails I expect which will speed it up. Meanwhile you must select some of your real seamen, perhaps your petty officers, to stay behind to help secure the tow. My marines will be alert for any signs of trouble. You and your officers are my prisoners and will be secured aboard my ship”.

  “Thank you
Captain, I don't think you will have any trouble. My men are thankful that there has been no fighting and will be happy to do as you say; glad that they will not be prisoners”.

  And so it happened, the French crew were ferried ashore and The English prisoners released. They staggered up on deck, blinking in the strong light. All of them looked half-starved and some had to be helped by their comrades.

  “Lieutenant Andrews” said Merriman, “Have the doctor brought over at once to see to these poor fellows, and have the cook started preparing food for them”. “Aye-aye Sir”, responded Andrews, already shouting orders as he turned away. Merriman turned to the ex-prisoners, “Men, you have nothing to fear now. My ship's Surgeon will be here shortly to examine you all and food is being prepared for you and a tot of rum will cheer you up, I shouldn't wonder. Now then I want you to tell Lieutenant Small who you are, your rating, what ship you were on and. how long you have been in captivity. Mr Small, you will attend to this, doubtless you will find paper and writing materials in the captain's cabin. Sit down you men and wait for the doctor to attend to you”.

  One of the men, tall and fair haired stepped hesitantly forward and touched his forelock, “Captain Sir, may I speak?” “Yes, yes, speak out man, what is it”. “Sir, my name is Sorensen Sir, I'm Swedish and I was a seaman, rated Able Seaman on board the old Argonaut under Captain Edwards and you were a Midshipman then. These men have asked me to speak for them Sir, to thank you for releasing them from the Frogs and we'll do whatever we can to help your prize crew tho' not all of us are strong enough, the Frogs starved us Sir”. “Very well then Sorenson, thank you for that, What rank or rating are you now?”. “Master's Mate Sir” the man replied.

  Just then Doctor McBride climbed aboard with one of his assistants and began to examine the men. As he did so, he said as doctors the world over would say, “ Hmm, hmm, very good, a'ha, that wound needs some attention, how long is it since your arm was broken, I don't like the look of that” and other such comments. He sorted the men into three groups and then reported to Merriman. “Most of them are well enough Sir although most of them are weak and need feeding up. Some of them have wounds that will need immediate attention and three of them have very serious wounds, I fear that one of them will not see tomorrow’s dawn. His wound is badly infected and gangrene has set in”. “Thank you Mr McBride, have a look below to see what this vessel has as a sick berth and treat them here. Feel free to use any of the French materials you find.”

  Meanwhile, a party of English seamen with a bos'n's mate set about repairing the broken tiller “Soon have that fixed Sir, the old one was rotten at the inboard end, no wonder it broke. We can fix that with a new piece of timber”, reported the bos'n's mate. Another party, helped by the remaining Frenchmen and some of the released prisoners secured a thick hawser floated over from Merriman's ship. That took several hours and meanwhile the bos'n and some seamen managed to rig up trysails on ropes from the top of the lower foremast and the mizzen lower mast and to re-rig a spanker on the rear of the mizzen mast whilst all the time Merriman kept a keen watch on the French coast to which they were drifting ever nearer.

  At last all was done that could be done, the French officers secured in the gunroom on Lord Stevenage and the petty officers and fifty of the best seamen secured below in the French ship under an adequate guard of marines. Then came the difficult bit. Sail was set on Lord Stevenage and the pitiful small sails on the prize. Progress was slow, at first it seemed that the ships weren't making any headway but slowly they began to move further out to sea. Merriman had left Lieutenant Henry Merryweather in command of the tow with Lieutenant Shrigley, but all went well. Fortunately the weather never gave more than a stiff wind and Merriman ordered more sail set before staggering below completely exhausted and collapsed into his cot unaware that his servant Peters covered him with a blanket.

  Merriman appeared on deck again as the dawn light was beginning to show. He had been woken by the noise of the crew going to action stations which was the normal activity on board Naval vessels at dawn in case the increasing light showed an enemy ship nearby. There were none and the crew were ordered to stand down to start the endless routine of maintenance and cleaning

  “Good morning Sir, I hope you managed a few hours sleep” said a grey faced and exhausted Lieutenant Andrews and Midshipman Green who had kept the deck together “Good morning David, I did, which it seems is more than you two did. How is the tow, any problems in the night?” “No Sir, none at all. She is following like a lamb after its mother as you can see.”

  “Very good David, now you and Mr Green can go and get your head down”. Merriman had been aware of his servant Peters hovering round carrying a steaming jug of coffee. “Freshly brewed coffee Sir? And your breakfast will be ready soon”. “I'll be down shortly Peters, for breakfast and a shave”. But he took a cup and then he turned to the Ship's Master, a recently promoted Tom Henderson, originally a Master's mate under the old Master, Mr Cuthbert, who had his legs cut away by a round shot in an action with pirates off Ceylon some months ago.

  “Mr Henderson, did you have a good night? Good, now you will have to take command with Mr Small while I go below for breakfast and a shave. The weather looks good so I don't think you will have any trouble. We should soon see some of our ships on blockade duty so keep the lookouts alert for any sail”. “Aye-aye Sir, you can depend on me Sir” replied Henderson, touching his forelock. “I know that Mr Henderson or else you would not be here”, said Merriman disappearing below. Peters had been keeping an eye open and as soon as Merriman went down he emerged from the galley with a dish covered with a towel. “Your breakfast Sir, your favourite, pork fried in biscuit crumbs and there is more coffee Sir”.

  After breakfast and a wash and shave Merriman put on clean clothes and went on deck, quite satisfied with life. Lord Stevenage was pulling strongly on the Aigle Francaise which was following docilely in her wake. The sun was shining, the wavelets sparkling and Merriman wondered how long it would be before he saw home again, his wife Helen and his little son now over two years old. A letter from Helen received in Bombay had told him that both his mother and father had died soon after he sailed for India. His mother had been unwell for months and her death was expected but his father had been expected to live much longer. He shook his head and returned below to carry on with writing his reports.

  Chapter 2 - To Portsmouth with prize Corvette

  Captain Merriman was feeling very proud. Things had happened so quickly after his ship entered the outer harbour at Portsmouth with the crews of other ships cheering at the sight of the French ship with the French flag flying with the British flag flying above it. The formal gun salute was fired to the Port Admiral's flag and then as the French ship reached the spot indicated by the harbourmaster's launch, the tow was cast off and the skeleton crew of British sailors dropped her anchor assisted by some Frenchmen under marine guard. The topsails on Lord Stevenage were hauled round into the wind and backed to stop her in the right place where she too dropped anchor. The sails disappeared like magic into a tight harbour furl and the ship was at rest for the first time since leaving India many months before. Merriman knew that from the shore many telescopes would be looking for any sloppy handling of the ship but he also knew that his officers and men were so well trained that no watcher would find anything to criticise.

  The anchor had barely touched bottom before the Signals Midshipman Green shouted “Signal from Flag Sir, our number, Captain and passenger to report to Flag at once.” “Thank you, Mr Green, have my boat called away.” There was no need for that last order as Merriman's cox'n Matthews already had the boat's crew ready, wearing their best uniforms bought especially for them by Merriman so that they and the boat looked as smart as new paint. The boat was quickly in the water and Merriman, clutching an armful of reports and wearing his best uniform looked round for the passenger who was to go with him.

  The passenger was none other than Mr Laurence Grahame. Grahame worked f
or the Treasury Department, under the direct control of Lord Stevenage who in turn reported directly to the Prime Minister William Pitt the younger. At that time the Treasury Department was responsible for England's agents abroad, spies really, on whom the country depended to pass information from Europe's capital cities and ports which could help England in the ongoing struggle with Napoleon Bonaparte. Mr Grahame was ready and knowing what was expected of him, climbed down into the boat with Merriman last as tradition demanded, to the usual squealing of the Bos'n's whistles and the cloud of pipeclay as the marines smartly presented arms. Merriman and Grahame had worked together on several adventures in the past, in the Irish Sea, Ireland, The West Indies and latterly in India. All these events had been successfully completed and the two men worked well together, indeed Grahame who was one of the Treasury's top agents, asked the Admiralty for Merriman to join him in his forays abroad.

  As the boat sped over the water at the urging of Matthews, Merriman took a moment to look back at his ship to be sure that everything was as it should be, then he smiled, he knew that the skies would fall before his First Lieutenant Andrews would miss anything. The sails were all tightly furled, the yards were exactly square and level and he had seen the various parties of seamen on deck doing all the last minute things needed. He looked round him for anything new. High on a hill was a strange structure consisting of three sturdy uprights sticking out of the roof of a small building and with octagonal panels between them. Even as he watched it appeared that the panels moved in some kind of order.

  He drew Grahame's attention to the sight, asking “What do you make of that weird thing on the hill over there?” Grahame studied it through a small pocket telescope he habitually carried, “It could be one of the new signalling stations which were being talked about when we were here last, but perhaps we will know soon enough.”