A Sloop of War

by Philip K Allan

  ‘Welcome aboard, sir,’ he said with a grin of pleasure. Clay could tell that Munro was excited at the prospect of action, whatever the odds.

  ‘Good to see you again, Mr Munro,’ he replied, shaking the Ulsterman’s hand.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Munro,’ said Parker. ‘Kindly carry on. Now, captain, let us find ourselves a little privacy over by the rail here. You men, go over to the leeside of the deck, if you please.’

  ‘Aye aye, sir,’ came the replies. One side of the quarterdeck cleared, and the other became crowded. Clay noticed that the section of rail beside which he stood was quite new. This was the spot where Captain Follett had fallen. No, was killed he corrected himself. He tried to envisage how it would have happened. The shot-torn deck, strewn with the wounded and awash with the debris of the fallen mast. The survivors struggling to hack at the rigging, on the far side of the deck in an odd parallel of the situation now, he thought, glancing towards the mass of marines and gun crews gathered there. And Sutton, his closest friend, leaning over the side and cutting free a man to drown. He shuddered to think of it, unable to contort the well loved face of his friend into the mask of fury necessary to have carried out such an act. With an effort he shook himself free of the scene, and forced his thoughts back into the here and now.

  ‘I collect from the state of the Agrius that you mean to fight, sir?’ asked Clay, mopping a bead of sweat from his brow.

  ‘Of course,’ replied Parker. ‘Your ship and mine may be able to outpace a lumbering seventy-four, but the Dons will make short work of the transporters.’ He pointed to where the four troopships swung at anchor close inshore, with the looming sugar loaf mountain a dome of green immediately behind them. ‘I will not abandon the shipping we were ordered to protect without even firing a shot, captain. If we are unable to devise an alternative strategy it will be our duty to fight, however slender the chance that we shall prevail.’

  ‘I understand, sir. Might one of us keep the San Filipe engaged while the other brings down the main fleet from Castries?’ suggested Clay, but then answered his own question. ‘Except that the San Filipe now lies between us and them.’

  ‘Precisely so, captain,’ said Parker. ‘But might you not circumnavigate the island in the other direction, and come upon the admiral from the north?’ Clay looked up at the Agrius’s commissioning pennant and shook his head.

  ‘That would take many hours, with the wind where she lies now, sir. Any action here would be long resolved before I could return with assistance. No, I submit we need to beat off the Dons with the resources we have to hand. What we require is a plan that will place them at a disadvantage. Could we lure them within range of the fort?’

  ‘Regrettably there are no gunners up there yet,’ said Parker. ‘By the time we got them manned with gunners from our ships the Dons will have had plenty of time to finish us off. I thought that we might stand off and on the San Filipe, and endeavour to first cripple her at range?’

  ‘The Rush is not best placed for such an action. She has just been fitted with carronades, sir,’ said Clay. ‘Powerful weapons, but only at close range, and at such a range even a poorly served seventy-four would still lay waste to the Rush with a couple of broadsides.’

  He stared out over the bay seeking inspiration. He took in the calm water, the fort at the end of its narrow peninsula, the town with the transport ships in front of it, and the stubby silhouette of the Rush. Where was the plan they needed he thought. How could he put the elements of the puzzle together? He looked back out to sea. The San Filipe had grown closer since he had first seen her that morning. Her hull was now visible over the horizon. She was almost bow on to him, just as she had been for hour after long hour during that slow pursuit of the Rush. Those well remembered masts towered up and wide spreading yards seeming to reach out towards him once more. He looked at the Spanish ship, then back at the Rush, and once more at the San Filipe as the idea began to come to him. He turned to Captain Parker.

  ‘Sir, do you know how much those transporters draw when fully laden?’ he asked.

  ‘I do not, but I can have them signalled to find out,’ replied Parker. ‘What is the significance of that?’

  ‘Why, if it is sufficiently above twelve foot six, I believe I may have a plan that will answer, sir,’ said Clay.

  *****

  On his return to the Rush, Clay’s feet had barely stepped down onto the main deck before he was busy issuing orders.

  ‘Mr Sutton!’ he called.

  ‘Sir!’ came a reply from near the wheel, and he appeared, looking down at him from the quarterdeck rail.

  ‘Can you kindly pass the word for Mr Carver and Mr Appleby to join us on the quarterdeck directly, if you please, and then let us weigh anchor as quickly as may be convenient.’

  ‘Ah, Mr Carver,’ said Clay as the boatswain ran up onto the quarterdeck with ape-like ease, coming to a halt in front of Clay and Sutton. The large figure of the master followed him, rather more slowly, his face red with the effort of keeping up with the long-limbed boatswain. ‘And Mr Appleby too, that is splendid. Now gentlemen, to business. We will shortly be standing out towards the San Filipe, making as if we wish to pass her in order to bring down the rest of the fleet from the offing off Castries,’ he explained.

  ‘When you say “making as if”, I collect that this is not what we are really about, sir?’ asked Sutton.

  ‘Quite so, Mr Sutton,’ said Clay. ‘The wind will not serve for such a journey. By the time we brought the admiral here, we would have lost all the transporters and perhaps the Agrius too. We shall make the show of being in earnest, but will actually want to be blocked in our attempt by the Dons. Our true object is to attract the attention of the San Felipe such that she attempts to close with us. Clear so far?’

  ‘Aye aye, sir,’ replied the officers.

  ‘Excellent,’ continued their captain. ‘Now, I also need the Rush to seem to the San Filipe as if we are still encumbered with weed. We need to present ourselves as the slow moving hulk they almost caught last time we encountered them. How do you suggest we best accomplish this?’ The officers thought for a moment.

  ‘We could set our sail in a lubberly fashion, sir,’ suggested Appleby. ‘Spilling the wind, and not sheeting home properly.’

  ‘Might that not be spotted by the Dons?’ said Clay. ‘For my plan to work, I need them to close with the Rush, but not to be suspicious of us. Poorly set sails might reveal we are not in earnest?’

  ‘Drogue, sir,’ said Carver with decision. ‘Get an old jib sail, and stitch it into the shape of an open cone, with a bit of chain on the bottom to hold the mouth open and to keep it below the surface. If we towed it behind us it will slow us like a sea anchor, and we can cut it free the moment we need to crack on. The Dons would need to have eyes like a hawk to spot a couple of lines running down into our wake.’

  ‘I like it, sir,’ said Sutton. ‘But I would say only half a jib, else we will be too slow.’

  ‘I believe you are right, Mr Sutton,’ said Clay after a moment. ‘How will we get it deployed? We will need to turn into the wind to do so.’

  ‘Easy, sir,’ said Carver. ‘Do it when we tack. With the wind where it is we will be bow on to the Dons as we go about. They will not see a thing going on at our stern.’

  ‘Very good, gentlemen; we have a plan. Mr Carver, kindly get the drogue fashioned as quickly as convenient. Tell the sail maker he may draw on as many of the crew as he wishes to help with the construction. Mr Sutton, kindly have the Agrius signalled. Rush to Agrius, permission to get under way.’

  ‘Agrius signalling,’ announced Croft. ‘Proceed. Good luck.’

  ‘Acknowledge, if you please, Mr Croft,’ said Clay. ‘Mr Sutton, let us weigh anchor and then stand out towards the San Filipe, but we must travel slowly through the water. You will need to set sail poorly for now while we await the drogue, but the enemy is far enough away for that not to signify.’

  He strode forward to the front of the quar
terdeck. Looking down onto the main deck he could see the sail maker and the boatswain busy supervising a swarm of cross-legged seamen as they stitched away. Clay walked back to join the ship’s master.

  ‘Now for your part, Mr Appleby,’ he said. ‘Do you still have those bearings I asked you to take when the Burford ran aground?’

  *****

  Evans stood near the stern rail of the Rush, and pointed towards the Spanish ship of the line that had been looming ever closer for the last hour.

  ‘Just so I have the plan straight like, Mr Green,’ he said. ‘We are to get real close to a ship as is much too big to fight, and that we spent a day and a night trying to get away from. Then when we are good and near, we shall put this here drogue in the water so as to make us sail real slow. I am certain it’s bleeding genius, but I am a little unsure how?’

  ‘Stow your noise, Evans,’ rumbled the petty officer. ‘You’re not here to do the thinking, look you.’

  ‘I am with Sam on this,’ hissed O’Malley, glaring at the drogue as it lay under the stern rail. ‘I am after thinking that Pipe has had a bit too much fecking knock me down last night with them soldiers.’

  ‘I trusts him with my life,’ announced Sedgwick, with sudden intensity. ‘He took me into the bark so I didn’t go back into slavery. If his plan were to voyage to the moon, I would follow him.’ The others looked at the normally quiet sailor in surprise.

  ‘I was only asking,’ muttered Evans.

  ‘Able has the truth of it lads, for shame,’ said Rosso. ‘Didn’t he turn the tables on the Frogs back in Flanders, when we all thought it was over? Didn’t he do for the Courageuse? He has a sound plan, I don’t doubt. There are few deeper than Pipe.’

  ‘Did he let anything slip about his plan like, when he was in the Jollyboat, Able?’ asked Trevan.

  ‘No, but on the way back I could tell he was a-pondering on something,’ said Able. ‘He kept looking about him, and we couldn’t row quickly enough for him.’

  ‘Well I hopes you’re fecking right, and we are bound for the moon,’ said O’Malley. ‘For I can’t see how else he means to get us out of this, trapped in this fecking bay by that hulking great ship.’

  ‘Green, are your men ready?’ called Carver, coming over to the group of men.

  ‘Aye aye, sir,’ replied the Welshman, indicating to the sailors to pick up the drogue.

  ‘Make sure those lines aren’t twisted,’ said Carver. ‘Tail end goes in first, that’s you, Evans.’

  ‘Aye aye, Mr Carver,’ said Evans. He still looked at the bundle of canvas in his arms with a deal of suspicion.

  ‘Wait for my signal, Mr Carver,’ called Sutton. He received a nod from Clay, and put the ship on the other tack.

  ‘Helm over!’ he ordered. ‘Brace the yards round! Head sails!’ The Rush came up into the wind and turned on the spot from one tack to the other. At the moment that her bows pointed directly at the San Felipe, Sutton turned towards the stern of the ship.

  ‘Now, Mr Carver!’ he yelled. ‘Deploy the drogue.’

  ‘In she goes, lads,’ ordered Green. The drogue slipped over the side, and sank beneath the waves.

  ‘Neatly done, Mr Green,’ said Carver. ‘With all the confusion of tacking, I warrant the Dons will not have seen a thing.’

  As the Rush gathered speed on the other tack, the twin lines rose up from the wake of the sloop and stiffened into rods as the strain came on.

  ‘How does she feel?’ asked Clay to the quartermaster at the wheel.

  ‘Steering by the stern, sir,’ he said, as he moved the wheel a little from side to side, ‘and she be right sluggish, but I should be able to handle her well enough.’

  ‘Very good,’ said Clay. ‘Take her as close to the wind as she will go as if we mean to slip between the Dons and the coast over there.’

  The yards were braced around on the San Felipe, and she turned broadside on as she headed across the water towards the green coast of St Lucia. The two ships were on parallel courses now as the Spanish moved to head off the Rush’s clumsy attempt to slip by her. Clay studied his enemy with care. Her side rose like a cliff from the sea. Each of her two long lines of gun ports was emphasised by a pale yellow strip painted the entire length of her black hull. Her masts towered up high into the blue Caribbean sky. Something in her foremast caught his attention, a spar that was out of place perhaps? He focused on it with his telescope, and realised what it was. The captain of the San Felipe had had a large wooden cross hauled up to the top of the mast to inspire his crew in battle.

  ‘God, she’s a big bugger,’ said Sutton from beside him. ‘Never mind the two rows of guns of her main batteries; she has more fire power than us just on her quarterdeck and forecastle.’

  ‘I fear you are right,’ agreed Clay. ‘We are close enough now, Mr Sutton,’ said Clay, still examining their opponent. ‘Kindly put her on the other tack. Let us now appear to try and round her by heading out towards the open sea. You had best wear ship with that drogue on our tail.’

  ‘Excellent point,’ said Sutton, ‘They would make short work of us if we were caught in irons this close to them.’

  The Rush made a long curving turn downwind, rather than the quicker but riskier tack through the wind, and settled on her new course, heading away from land. Like an obedient dog, the San Felipe followed her turn and began to head reach on her once more. There was to be no escape this way either. The ships’ courses converged further, and the Spanish ship grew even larger in Clay’s view. He could now see individual officers on her quarterdeck watching him, and the tiny figures of crewmen in her rigging. Then the look of her changed as she opened her gun ports. All along her sides the twin lines of huge cannon were run out pointing towards the little sloop.

  ‘That will do, Mr Sutton,’ ordered Clay. ‘I believe we have her attention now. Kindly bring her to the wind and head back into the bay. Once that is done you can clear the ship for action.’ He next turned back towards the ship’s master.

  ‘Now, Mr Appleby, do you have the location of the Burford’s sand bar fixed?’

  ‘Yes, sir, I have it to hand,’ replied the master.

  ‘Very good,’ said Clay. ‘I want you to lay me a course that will take the Rush right over the middle of that bar.’

  ‘Right over it?’ queried the master. ‘But sir, if we should run aground at such a speed, it would do cruel damage to the ship.’

  ‘But we shall not, Mr Appleby,’ announced Clay. ‘The Burford drew fifteen feet on the day she touched, and she only lightly ran aground. What does the Rush draw?’

  ‘Twelve foot six at the stern, fully laden,’ said Appleby.

  ‘Exactly, so we will fly over that sand bar with two and a half feet to spare.’ Clay turned to look behind them, to where the San Felipe charged along in their wake with all sail set.

  ‘Tell me, Mr Appleby, how deep do you think the San Felipe’s hull goes? I should be very surprised if they draw an inch less than twenty feet.’

  Chapter 15

  Battle

  The Rush may have been one of the Royal Navy’s smaller ships, but things on board were still done correctly. Her contingent of marines, only twenty-five strong, was not large enough to have their own drummer boy, but they did have a drum. Corporal Patton, who was known to possess a little musical ability, had it hung from one of his wide leather cross belts as he marched out into the centre of the main deck. From where he stood no member of the crew could have been more than fifty feet away from him, comfortably within range of his parade ground bawl. But the preparation of a warship for battle was not called beating to quarters for nothing. He thunderously sounded his drum, and the crew of the Rush organised themselves for the fight ahead in a swirl of movement all around him.

  Able Sedgwick ran along the main deck to his place at number five carronade. Rosso, the gun’s captain, was there already, casting loose the breaching and rigging the gun tackles.

  ‘Able, grab the other tackle and rig it to the port sid
e, mate,’ ordered Rosso. Sedgwick unhooked the heavy block and tackle and fitted one end to the ship’s side and the other to the carronade. He pulled it tight to test it, and the gun edged forward on its slide. While he did this Evans and O’Malley arrived. Evans untied the rammer from the underside of the gangway over his head, while O’Malley went to collect a bucket of water from those being filled at the deck pump.

  Sedgwick looked up to see one of the ship’s boys walking towards him, scattering handfuls of sand broadcast on the deck as if he was feeding chickens.

  ‘Bit more of that on the deck here, lad,’ called Evans. ‘I don’t want to fall on my arse first time we run up.’

  ‘No, that generally only happens the second fecking time,’ said O’Malley, pulling off his shirt, and putting it away. The others followed suit.

  ‘Right, I am off to get this lit,’ said Rosso, tying a length of slow match onto his linstock. He looked around him. ‘Where’s that lazy little nipper with the first charge?’

  ‘It’s all right, Rosie,’ said Sedgwick. ‘Barker will be here soon. Here come the powder monkeys now.’ A line of ship’s boys ran up the main ladder way from the magazine deep below the waterline, each one carrying a leather case with the cloth bag of powder for the gun they were allocated to.

  When Rosso returned to the carronade with his linstock spluttering into life, the gun was rigged, the equipment all allocated out and the crew stood around it waiting for the next order.

  ‘Is she loaded?’ he asked.

  ‘That she is,’ said O’Malley, whose job this was.

  ‘Number five gun loaded and ready, Mr Green,’ he called across to the petty officer in charge of this section of guns.

  ‘It’s a funny looking bugger, ain’t it,’ said Evans, pointing to the shiny new carronade. ‘Don’t seem quite right somehow, not having no wheels an all.’ The others looked at the squat mass with interest. Instead of the more normal gun carriage the barrel slid forwards and backwards on a heavy slide. This in turn was fixed by a huge bolt to the ship’s side at the gun’s port end. The inboard end of the slide had a roller on the bottom which rested on the deck and allowed the whole gun to be swung to the left or right.