A Journal of The Experiment at Jamaica (The Neville Burton 'Worlds Apart' Series Book 2)

by Georges Carrack

  “Burton, I will have your orders writ fair this very afternoon to go aboard as captain and set you to the protection of Jamaica and also thus protect you from any of Wright’s wrath, let us say on the twentieth instant.

  “Now, gentlemen, I really must go. This has taken longer than I had expected.”

  No sooner had his carriage left the courtyard, than Neville turned to Colonel Fuller. “There were a few things I didn’t understand, sir, if I could have your expertise….”

  “You may, but not now. I believe I shall now go sleep until supper.” With that, he walked off in the direction of his bedchamber.

  “Lord Inchiquin mentioned something about the pirate Laurens sailing a ‘barcolongo’. Pray tell what manner of ship that is, Sir,” was Neville’s first question at supper after the normal pleasantries and Colonel Fuller’s dialog about his trip inland to assist in quelling the negro rebellion.

  “I am no seaman, mind you, and have never seen the vessel, so you may need to seek another seafaring man to get a better description. I have heard her called both a lugger and a ‘fragata’ – not frigate, like ours, probably – but possibly only a Spanish term for it – though she is a three-masted vessel with fore-and-aft sails, and therefore a very fast and close sailer.”

  “I wonder about the Experiment; whether she is as fast, or even sails well at all. I pray she is not another Swan. If Lord Inchiquin’s opinion of Captain Wright is accurate, I think he would not send one of his better ships to Jamaica. I walked out to the overlook, and I could see her. Even with a glass, I could not comprehend much at this distance. I must go aboard as soon as possible, so to understand what officers I have, if any at all, and what men, and to begin provisioning. If I can be well enough in a week, might I beg a horse or carriage to visit?”

  Immediately Maria was asking, “May I go as well, father – to see Neville’s ship? I’ve never seen one so big as the Experiment.”

  Thomas and Neville looked at each other for only a moment before Colonel Fuller responded, “Not at this time, I’m afraid. I think Neville agrees.” Neville was nodding. “There is first the city of Port Royal. Neville has not yet seen it for himself, but it is the most vile place one can imagine! Drunkenness in the street, brawling and gambling – and worse. You know yourself that we can hear some of the noise even here on a quiet night. A girl like you could never go without a guard, and I caution Neville to take his sword. Moreover, there is the question of the disease, though it sounds as though it may be quelled now.

  “Yes, Neville, you may take a horse, but Trombé will go with you and will mind them while you go aboard, or you will not have them to come back. I suggest you do not remain long aboard, lest the disease still linger, so I expect to see you back the same day you go. The twelve miles each way will make for a long day.”

  His imagination of the grandeur of his first ship was smashed like a china doll on the cobbles when he first stepped aboard. Before climbing up the side he could see the yards all ahoo, stretched, sagging rigging with great strips of thrice-layed stuff and badly-furled sails. She was a frigate, though, and would be his first command and that at the age of nineteen. In his mind’s eye, that could mean only that he perceived a beauty there that he could extract with care and work, although he realized that the work could be considerable. Excitement and disappointment floated there together, joined in a single ship. She looked as though she might sail well; at least at anchor she looked much faster than did the Swan, being as it was a sort of impersonal ship and not all crinkum-crankum. Her mizzen sail was unfamiliar to him as well. It was not that he hadn’t seen lateen-rigged mizzens, for there had been plenty of small ships so rigged in the Mediterranean, and even on one or two older English brig-sloops at Sheerness or Spithead, but he had never sailed in one. He had been told that they were popular on the little trading vessels because they were efficient and very easy to handle.

  A single shabbily-dressed lieutenant was standing at the sally port to receive him, and even he stood with arms akimbo in a stance more like protecting his vessel than receiving visitors. There was no call at all from the ship to the approaching shore boat. There were no marines, sideboys, drummers or boatswain’s whistles, white gloves, red coats or dipping of the flag. He was less than unexpected. There had been no message sent to the ship to the effect that any officer would be coming. There had been nothing for weeks but death and the visit of the shore boat to exchange dead bodies for food and water. The lieutenant of the marines had been one of the first to die, the first sergeant was still ill, and the remaining marines either did not care about the navy’s activities or was keeping to the shade, or both. Furthermore, no person from shore had dared set foot over the brow since the ship had arrived.

  “I didn’t expect anyone,” stated the lieutenant flatly, looking at him curiously. Whether by way of apology, curiosity or distrust, Neville didn’t know. He was a tall skinny fellow, just short of a fathom. His uniform hung limply on him. It looked to be well made, so it was likely he was not a careless dresser but rather had lost a great deal of weight due to illness. He looked not much, if any, older than Neville, having a healthy shock of brown hair, long in the back and tied sloppily with a blue ribbon. His long nose accentuated the drooping eye sockets and cheeks. Long ears and dark stubble on an unshaven face completed the picture of a man who had been sick for some time, but would probably survive. “May I ask the nature of your business?”

  “I am not yet, but will soon be your captain. The orders are being written. My name is Burton; Neville Burton. I have come to gain some understanding of our situation.” He leaned forward and offered his hand. “You are…?”

  “Vincent Verley, Sir. Acting Captain these sad three weeks; previously Second Lieutenant.” He appeared to have made a conscious decision and stretched his arm out to shake hands. “Would you care to step into the shade, here aft? We can take a proper tour if you wish and if you dare. I think we are about shot of the mortal diseases, though. We may rig the waist awning tomorrow, if we can gather enough men with the strength. Do you expect I will continue as first, Sir?”

  “I expect so; we haven’t much choice. Sorry, no offence meant.”

  Four hours of daylight was expected for travel from the Fuller’s and back, leaving the two officers eight hours to review everything aboard ship. The ship’s company was Neville’s first concern.

  At the conclusion of Verley’s tale of misery, Neville said, “I approve of everything you have told me, Lt. Verley. I will be pleased to have you as my first lieutenant. Of these four midshipmen, is there not one who can act as second lieutenant?”

  “I didn’t mean to deceive you, Sir. One of the midshipmen died, as well. I believe Mr. Ratshaw could go from senior midshipman to acting second lieutenant. He’s young, but sharp. The second midshipman, Mr. Dinman, is an older man with considerable experience. He was previously an able seaman, but his seniority as a midshipman is less than Mr. Dinman’s. I would recommend he continue as master’s mate.

  “Very good. Any other recommendations?”

  “We have no surgeon, but the carpenter, pusser’s mate, two boatswain’s mates and the cook have survived.”

  “I’m pleased to see no women aboard,” said Neville.

  “They don’t dare, Sir because of the disease. We’ve only been here a few weeks, and we’re not pirates with bags of gold to steal. Nobody amongst us has a wife in this port, either.”

  “The situation is not hopeless, then, said Neville,” beginning to feel better. “Lieutenant Verley,” he said in conclusion of his tour, “open all ports whenever the rain permits, in order to air the ship out as best possible. Hang out all the hammocks and bedding, and get the waist awning rigged.

  “Once you organize these activities, assign the execution of it all to your new Acting Second Lieutenant Ratshaw. I’m staying the Fuller planation. Come out to tomorrow. Bring the purser’s mate with his provisioning papers. Take heart, Lt. Verley. We will not sit in this harbor and rot.
We will sail these beautiful waters in search of great adventure, and we will find it!”

  He gave directions to Fullers, scooped up the ship’s log and musters, saluted his new subordinate, and departed for ‘home’.

  Lt. Verley arrived with Mr. Gooden at the Fuller plantation in mid-afternoon the next day as was expected, but did not present well. They arrived soon after yet another rain squall had passed overhead, dropping buckets of warm water on everything in its path. Verley’s baggy uniform draped over his thin body in a manner that would have been comical if the cause were not known. The much shorter Mr. Gooden wore a hat that was plastered to the sides of his round face. His bushy wet mustache drooped well over his upper lip. Neville was called as soon as their arrival was known, and so stood waiting at the door to the inner courtyard. Verley had looked about in awe, until he saw Maria, and then his jaw had dropped.

  Neville had said, “Welcome. Please come in.” On reaching out to take his hand, he pulled Verley close and whispered, “She will be my fiancée in not too many months,” and Verley’s jaw had snapped shut. “Please meet Miss Maria Fuller. Miss Fuller, my First Lieutenant Vincent Verley and Mr. Gooden, our Purser.”

  “I’m not….,” said Mr. Gooden, beginning his correction regarding rank, but thought better of it and closed his mouth in mid-sentence.”

  “I think you are now,” interjected Verley.

  Vincent Verley and Neville Burton worked together for the next three days on provisioning and muster lists, and then enlisted the assistance of Colonel Fuller on both problems. Maria’s frequent interruptions, for any reason she could find to see Neville’s face, did not annoy any of them, so pleasant a visitor she was. The dispositions of both visitors improved markedly with better food, particularly fresh fruit, the shade of cool trees, and quieter rest, and Lt. Verley began to fill into his own skin.

  As to provisions, Colonel Fuller had simply sent Mr. Gooden off to see the Governor’s aides. The ship’s shortness of men had been a bigger quandary until Colonel Fuller had come up with two suggestions. First, since they had no intention of carrying any more marines than necessary to work the ship and fight sea battles, they would offer any who would otherwise be put ashore the opportunity to volunteer as seamen. Second, they would inquire about the island for ‘picaninnies’ – small slave boys who could be released from plantation to ship duty for anything from cook’s helper to servant or ‘powder monkey’. This duty would probably be an improvement for them, since it was as good as would be had by any English boy at sea in the navy, and only their owners would see it as an inconvenience.

  Neville’s orders from Governor Inchiquin arrived. He read them, stole a kiss from Maria, and read them to her. She did not seem completely pleased. As the governor had said, he was to ‘go aboard and take command’ on the twentieth. On the nineteenth he had sought Colonel Fuller, and finding him in his study, knocked politely at the door.

  “I have come to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage, Sir,” he had said once standing in front of the desk.

  “I expected as much,” Fuller had replied rather sternly. “I’ve never seen her as radiant as the last few weeks, and I wish for her to be that way forever. Nevertheless, Neville, I must withhold my permission for now. I could not bear for Maria to be a nineteen-year-old widow, and you are beginning a dangerous adventure. When you return – alive and having proven your ability as a navy captain – I expect my answer will be different,” but he added with a wink, “I will not object if you give her a parting kiss, assuming she permits it.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” Neville had said, releasing a long relieved breath, “I think she will; and I will return safely.”

  The next day he had taken what few personal objects he owned and departed the Fuller Plantation with a wave for the house staff, a hug for Juanita, a handshake for Thomas, and to Juanita’s surprise, a kiss for Maria.

  Neville’s arrival at Experiment was very different from his first visit. There were drums and Bo‘sun’s pipes and marines at attention and sideboys with white gloves. Lt. Verley saluted, the flag dipped, and Neville stepped up to the quarterdeck as he had observed others do, and read himself in. To the assembled ship’s company, he had taken out his orders and announced:

  “I am Commander Neville Burton. By these “Orders from Lord Inchiquin, Governor of Jamaica, in command of the armies and navies of their Majesties William and Mary on and about the British Island of Jamaica, to Lieutenant Neville Burton of their Majesties’ Ship Antelope: You are ordered to repair aboard their Majesties’ ship Experiment now lying at Port Royal, Jamaica and to take command as Captain Burton and to discharge your duties as directed by the Governor and also by the Admiralty as you may receive such orders from them.” He turned to step down to his cabin, paused briefly, and turned back to the company who had begun straggling off to their duties or off-duty undertakings.

  “Wait!” he commanded. “There’s more I wish to say. Under my command, discipline is of utmost concern. We will be – we are - a small ship in a vast sea, with little or no help close at hand.” He paused, and thought he detected stiffening amongst the men. “We are English,” he continued, “and we will do our duty because it is our duty – not because we fear the starter or the lash, or we will all die together. Officers, sergeants, and mates are not to use their starters unless it is truly deserved, and we will not have the cat out of the bag for a minor offence. It is not me you should fear. You will obey your orders without backtalk or the pirates and the French will cheerfully feed you to the sharks.”

  “To my cabin, Lt. Verley,” he finished, turning again to go below.

  The ship’s company was silent and unmoving for most all of Neville’s walk aft, but before he opened his door, there arose a cheer: “Hip, hip, hoorah! Hip, hip, hoorah.”

  Neville smiled as he entered his cabin. They did have a chance.

  Lt. Verley had suggested that he believed Marine Sergeant Daweson was capable of filling in for the deceased marine lieutenant, and was so promoted. Apparently having some respect for Daweson and sensing that life in the island regiments ashore was far worse than life aboard ship, every single marine had stayed aboard. With the addition of six of the scrawniest little black boys Neville had ever seen, the ship’s company had risen to ninety-three, as opposed to the authorized one hundred thirty-eight.

  A furious week of provisioning and ship-cleaning had followed as the ship’s company recovered from their illnesses. Fresh food and meaningful activity were making a difference. The island’s fleet of private and privateer sloops was being readied as well, and Experiment would return after a fortnight’s shakedown cruise to lead them out.

  They were ten days into preparing Experiment for sea when a carpenter’s mate in the waist called up to the quarterdeck where Burton and Verley were having a spirited conversation about revising the rigging on the bowsprit, “Shore boat, Sirs, there to larboard.”

  “Thank you, Lars,” said Neville patiently. This will be the limes I ordered, then, he thought. He turned to glance at the little vessel on its way out. The morning’s blazing sun, glinting off the wavelets in the bay, made it impossible to tell who or what was in the boat, but something there gave him to believe it was not his limes. Color, that’s what it was: bright green and yellow. What could that be? Normally one would see such color only on a woman’s dress. Dress?

  Neville, suddenly as alert as if the enemy had been spotted, said, “If that’s a packet of whores from town who’ve heard our men are well, I’ll send them off quick enough. We haven’t time for such diversion.”

  “Lt. Verley. Hand me that glass, if you would, please,” he snapped, and with it in hand sprung to the main chains.

  Hopping down from the bulwarks moments later, Neville, his countenance changed unexpectedly, ordered, “Lt. Verley, please prepare for the boarding of dignitaries - civilians, but not the governor, although you’d best keep a watch. It appears we will have a visit from the Fullers.” His heart was skipping beats
now, and he looked about nervously, feeling for all the world like a lost schoolboy who didn’t know what he should do next.

  Lt. Verley, knowing of Neville’s feeling toward Maria and guessing his predicament, quickly suggested, “I’ll have all ready in a blink, Sir, if you’d like to tidy up below,” while worrying that his new captain would not take his suggestion as a disrespectful implication that things below were not as they should be, or that Neville himself needed tidying. “I’ll pass word for Sergeant Daweson to have sideboys and two marines. And Mr. Tilburne’ whistles, of course. Anything else, Sir?”

  “Ahh… No, thank you. I’ll be back before they arrive,” Neville answered hastily, and hurried toward the aft companion.

  The arrival ceremony was quick, but formal enough; fitting for dignitaries and sufficient to display the courtesy of the navy, with marines at attention and the boatswain whistling. The guests were indeed Thomas and Maria Fuller, but no governor. Thomas climbed the ships’ ladder, but Maria, under the watchful eyes of most of the ship’s men, came aboard in a bo’sun’s chair. The calm day and shelter of the bay reduced the chance of mishap to nil.

  “You know Lt. Verley, here, and this other gentleman is our Second Lieutenant Ratshaw,” said Neville, shaking Thomas’ hand and beaming at Maria. “Come aft, if you please, under the awning on the poop. Would you care for a tour ‘round a Man-o-War or a glass of lemonade in the shade, there? To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

  “We would both enjoy the tour, Captain,” responded Colonel Fuller. “I’ve never actually been on a navy ship before, and my daughter insists on knowing what sort of vessel attracts you to leave us for a life of adventure.”

  A walk ‘round the nicer parts of the ship followed, with the lower decks and forecastle omitted. Had the heat not been oppressive, they might have remained in his cabin below where Maria would not have been such a distraction for the men. The poopdeck, however, where the light breeze could waft past, was a far more comfortable place for a short chat.