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

by Georges Carrack

  At Major Nott’s gesturing, Neville understood that he was to take his company to the left, and did so. By now they were all running. “Ahead there, Captain,” bellowed Daweson, “They’re taking to horse!” He knelt to fire his musket more accurately, and his shot knocked one man from his horse.

  “Cease Fire,” yelled Lord Hamilton. The command was repeated by Lord Hamilton, and then passed down the lines. The whole melee was in jeopardy of getting out of hand. Following a short conversation between Nott and Hamilton, the order was given to camp for the night.

  The Experimentals had begun to settle when General Codrington, on a quick tour of his forces, appeared in front of Neville. “All well, Captain Burton?” he asked.

  “Aye, Sir. Nothing severe: one broken arm from a fall on the hill. Sgt. Daweson shot one man from his horse.”

  “Damned fine shot, I’m told.”

  “I’ll tell him you said so, Sir. Thank you. May I ask you something?”

  “Yes, go on.”

  “Why did we attack the shore battery at Bayllif? What was to be gained?”

  The general looked down and shuffled his foot in the dirt, and when he lifted his face to Neville, he did not look pleased, “Do not pass this along, but it is the foolishness of Captain Wright. Some thirty of our men were killed – ten on Mary alone. Wright’s show of bravado wasted a good deal of ammunition and we lost the chance to land as we’d planned. It may have been a blessing, however, since the French were probably gathered to oppose us there at Anse La Barque. This approach was not easy, but we have flanked them. You saw them run.”

  “We lost a few men in the front ranks today, but tell your men we did well. The French had two officers killed and we had three wounded. Be ready to march tomorrow toward Bayllif and then Basseterre. I believe we shall take this island,” he concluded, and moved on to the next unit on his rounds.

  The morning of the next day one of Codrington’s aides arrived with a note: they were ordered to join with Colonel Williams in a flanking maneuver.

  “Do you know him?” the aide asked of Neville.

  “He’s been pointed out to me, but I’ve not met the man.”

  “Here he is,” said the aide, as they walked up beside a heavy-set marine officer absorbed in studying the battle through his telescope. “Colonel Williams?”

  “Oh, hello, Lieutenant. I didn’t notice you coming.”

  “Captain Burton here will add his forty men to yours for the flanking attack. Colonel Codrington requests that you begin as soon as you can gather up.”

  “Tell him we will be out of here very quickly,” said Colonel Williams, and turned to Neville.

  “Captain Burton, is it? I don’t remember you. From which ship?”

  “The Experiment, Sir; Jamaica.”

  “Ah, yes, I think I heard Captain Wright say something about a ship from Jamaica. Don’t remember what, but no matter. Can you form up here in, say, fifteen minutes?”

  This is good, thought Neville. Captain Wright may have a great dislike of me, but either he doesn’t bother to complain about me to everyone he sees or they pass off his complaints as just more of his stuff. “Aye, Colonel. Fifteen minutes.”

  “Captain Burton, take your men to the left flank. Lieutenant Miller, you’re to the right, and I’ll be center.” His voice was increasing with excitement with each word. “My signal to advance – steadily, not running - will be waving my sword. When you see, it, pass it along! My first pistol shot will be the signal to attack on a quick march. All good? Spread out!”

  All three companies were spread out and moving forward in then minutes, with Colonel Williams waving his sword. The battle below had been under way for an hour, and the noise of it increased as they advanced.

  A musket ball ricocheted off a rock near Colonel Williams, whining off into the distance.

  “They see us now!” he yelled, pulling out his pistol. He held it aloft and fired, which began a volley of musket fire and fearsome shouting from his men. They all began running at the French, who then converted to full retreat. The Experimentals could do little more than to shoot at a few of them who had the misfortune to flee in the wrong direction.

  After camping for the night where the French had been the night before, they marched for Bayllif. This early morning, before the sun had climbed high in the sky and the air had not entirely lost its cheerful freshness, the road to Bayllif was pleasant. Tropical birds called from the wooded hill inland, and for that short walk, it almost seemed that the world had regained some normalcy. They stopped at the platform that had fired upon their ships. It was now an abandoned shambles. The guns were overturned and spiked and the French were gone. General Codrington had taken the old plantation house above the town of Bayllif for his quarters. It was a good choice; there was a good wall around it, and it commanded the road to landward.

  Colonel Blakiston was detached early in the morning with four hundred men to observe the island’s largest city, Basseterre, with an eye to its destruction.

  “Captain Burton, you will maintain a guard over this place until we call you forward to Basseterre. I can’t say when or even if that will happen.”

  “Aye, Colonel Williams. May I have a moment?” Neville asked after the general’s men had gone.

  “What is it, Captain?”

  “We know a large number of the French have gone to that old castle up on the hill. Would you mind if my men attempt to drill out a gun or two and fire at it? We have little else to do.”

  “I certainly do not. The lazy French did not carry away the shot, and we found some powder they left. We could fire the guns if they could be cleared, but it is three miles distant. These guns may not have the range. There is nothing wrong with being prepared or showing zeal, however, so go ahead.”

  The main British force had gone ahead into Basseterre under General Codrington, overtaken the town, and burned it. For the next three days, while the smoke continued to rise from the city, there were daily skirmishes with groups of French marauders who caused loss to both sides. Neville was pleased with the quiet of guard duty. The scraping at the guns was the loudest noise being made in the Bayllif camp.

  He had brought with him a quill, a small reservoir of ink and a thin packet of papers. His intention was to write Maria every day, but circumstances had so far not allowed it. He doubted that Maria would find it disconcerting, since it was likely that if she received the letters at all it would be in packets of several at a time.

  The island of Guadeloupe

  23rd April, 1691

  My Dearest Maria,

  In another time, I would wish that you were here with me. The island is quite beautiful. The jungle has birds that rival Jamaica’s, and the climate is very much the same. From our position at a fortified house on the western shore, we can see no island to the west. There are hills to the east that catch the clouds and make enough rain to cause the river that we had to cross to arrive here. The French still attack us in small numbers, but they are all but destroyed here. The General has burned the capital city of Basseterre, and we should see victory within the week. We have drilled out the guns they left behind and will fire upon them tomorrow. Perhaps this conflict will soon be over and I will be free to return to you.

  With all my love,

  Neville

  The next day his men announced two of the guns ready to try. While they were positioning them and reaving their tackle, a procession of Frenchmen arrived from seaward under a white flag.

  The island of Guadeloupe 24th April, 1691

  My Dearest Maria,

  A peculiar event occurred here today. While we were preparing to fire the guns, a white flag was observed to approach us from Anse la Barque. The French sent a delegation to exchange prisoners. General Codrington, who if I have not writ before, is also the Governor of Antigua, was summoned and came in great haste to negotiate with them. We have given over those we took at Marie-Galante for eighty-four English and made a very advantageous arrangement for future pr
isoners taken at sea. This took most of the afternoon, so we will try the guns tomorrow.

  With all my love,

  Neville

  Captain Neville Burton, feeling himself a coward, stood to the side when the first gun was fired. His leg ached with the remembrance of the incident at St. Christopher, and he prayed sincerely that the men who had drilled the gun had made no mistakes. They had no qualms, obviously, as they rammed the wadding over the ball and raised the barrel to its maximum elevation. A low wall separated him from the gun platform. It was merely a separation between an old construction and a newer one, but it was stone, and about two feet thick. Neville ordered the gun crew to fire when they were ready, and he’d strolled as nonchalantly as he could to the far side of the wall. There he sat upon it with his legs on the other side from the gun.

  The gunner lowered the slow-match to the touch-hole, and the gun fired properly, kicking back against its restraints. Neville let out a long slow breath.

  Black powder smoke drifted slowly downwind as Colonel Williams observed the shot. “You can try the other gun, Captain Burton, but this range is too long. We must move closer.”

  “Let us not waste the powder, Colonel. I agree we must move…. Who is this coming, here?”

  A skinny British midshipman approached the platform with a message pouch. He was very pleased to accept a cup of water before making his announcement.

  “Commodore Wright hereby orders all marines and seamen of his fleet aboard ship with utmost haste,” he said, pulling from his pouch the written version of the statement. “There’s a French fleet sighted in the cul-de-sac: eleven ships, and they have landed troops.”

  Colonel Williams read the message from the midshipman and handed it back. Pointing down the road, he said, “Three miles to Basseterre, Mr. Midshipman. That’s where you’ll find General Codrington. You’d best hurry. Sun’ll be down soon. Tell him I said we’re ready here to do as he orders.”

  Mr. Midshipman turned to the road where Colonel Williams had pointed and shuffled off in a less-than-hurried pace.

  “I wouldn’t want to deliver that message, either,” said Williams to Burton. “The general will be most displeased. He will accuse Captain Wright of being concerned only with his own protection. We had best be ready to pull out, though, for if the fleet leaves, we have no stores except what we now carry upon our backs, and any small troop-carrying craft that would wait for us would stand no chance against French men-of-war. Pass word, Captain.”

  Noon of the next day found all the Experimentals back aboard ship and most of the island regiments either aboard, in shore boats, or staging on the beach.

  “As nice as it was to set foot on land and hear the cheer of birds, I am pleased to have my cabin back, Lt. Ratshaw,” Neville espoused at supper. He had invited his first lieutenant to exchange reports on their activities; it was really more of a gossip session over a good meal of fresh-caught fish and some unfamiliar but tasty island root.

  “We’ve really done nothing but swing at anchor this whole time, Sir. Chips has replaced that planking on your gig, if you didn’t notice it on the way out, and Mr. Hatter has done a remarkable job of mending the forestaysail and main topsail. They were our worst, if you remember?”

  “That’s excellent, Lieutenant. From ashore I have the rumor that General Codrington is furious over Captain Wright’s recall. He was ready for an assault upon the fort and we would have had the island. We lost no men in our retreat, however. That reminds me, I must ask MacRead about Mr. Farmer’s broken arm. As to our future, all I know is that we will weigh anchor this evening as soon as all are boarded. We shall then sail south and east from this island to Marie-Galante. I have no news of Captain Wright’s intentions.”

  “Cheese tray and a small glass of wine, Lt. Ratshaw?”

  “Aye, thank you – and for the meal.”

  “Heave the anchor short after supper, if you please, lieutenant.”

  “Will do, Sir.”

  At dusk, the boatswain’s mate forward called out, “Anchor’s aweigh.” Experiment followed the others as last in line. The sailing orders were to stand south by southwest out of the anchorage, south to the tip of Guadeloupe and inside the Les Saints. They would tack northeast into the southern cul-de-sac as darkness fell, and then turn south for Marie-Galante in the morning.

  “Pleasant night, isn’t it Mr. Greaves?” Neville asked on his midnight stroll to the quarterdeck. It was as quiet as it would ever be aboard ship. The wind could be heard swishing through the rigging, and the spars creaked at regular intervals as the ship rode over the low mounding waves. They heard the sea rushing alongside, and the wake was visible, twinkling in the starlight. A few snores could be heard, but no shouting or tweeting of the bo’sun’s pipes.

  “Aye, it is, Sir. What with this light westerly breeze and no cracking on required, it’s pleasant, indeed. I think half the watch is asleep on deck. I keep seeing something there on the leeward quarter, though, that makes me anxious. I don’t think we’ve sailed past any ship in our fleet, but I wouldn’t want a collision at night.”

  “Keep an eye on it, and tell your relief to do the same. Who is it, Tilburne?”

  “Aye, Sir.”

  16 - “Madame Loire”

  “Captain, Captain!” Suddicke’s voice was in his ear, urging him awake. He had not called to be woken at any particular time, and as he cracked his eyes open he could see it was not fully light yet. Suddicke’s voice carried an urgent note.

  “What is it, Suddicke?” Neville asked, waking rapidly.

  “Mr. Tilburne’s compliments, Sir, and he asks that you come up right quick to see. Here’s your trousers, Sir.”

  “Thank you, Suddicke,” he said while pulling on his trousers, and went up the companion steps with neither hat nor jacket. He expected the normal warm breeze, and was not disappointed in that.

  “Captain, look ‘round,” said Tilburne, wearing a very concerned look on his face.

  The sun had not yet risen, and only the first hint of light was turning the sky from black to purple. The stars had not yet gone, and Guadeloupe was more of an apparition to larboard than a vision - a place where there were no stars.

  “There,” Tilburne said, pointing aft to the larboard quarter, “and there,” now pointing abeam to starboard. “We’re amongst them some’ow; ships all ‘round. I thought you’d want to know.”

  “Yes, thank you Mr. Tilburne. Let’s have Mr. Silas at lookout. We’ll have light soon.”

  Neville called Suddicke for his coffee to be brought to the quarterdeck, and it arrived as Tilburne’s mates began piping up the new watch. Fifteen minutes later the lookout slid down the starboard backstay, landing with a thump behind his captain.

  “Captain!” he called in a very strange, excited half-whisper, half-shout.

  “Why have you come down, Mr. Silas? Why did you not call out?”

  “I d’nay think they’re ours, Sir. French or traders or pirates, maybe, but not ours!” he again whisper-shouted with wide eyes. “I d’nay think you’d want the noise of me yellin’.”

  “You’re right, Mr. Silas,” said Neville, now fully awake and peering into the gloom, “Thank you. Now please go back up, and we’ll post a man halfway up the shrouds to relay your messages.

  “Mr. Tilburne, We’ll clear for action. Do NOT beat those drums or blow your pipes. Have your mates rouse the men to quarters. Piping the watch is one thing; piping to quarters is something our friends would notice. I think it’s not a great rush. They won’t know who we are either. We’ve not got our colours aloft. Pass word for Lt. Ratshaw, if you please.” He took another gulp of his coffee.

  Lt. Ratshaw arrived on the quarterdeck three minutes later, asking, “What’s afoot, Sir?” He was properly attired, but there was no taming the blond hair that stuck out all sides of his cocked hat.

  “Look ‘round, Lieutenant. We’re surrounded by unidentified ships. I don’t mean they are threatening, and the closest is maybe half a league. These
you can see here are privateers or pirates, maybe, but they are not French Men-o-war. Merchants, is my best guess, but maybe not English, either. The light is improving, and we can see Tiger ahead – also about half a league, and Mr. Silas up there,” he wagged his finger toward the maintop,” has relayed down that topsails of some other ship can be seen now ahead of Tiger. He was smart enough not to start shouting, and we have a relay man half up.”

  “Relay says topsail’s tacked south, Sirs.”

  “We are last in line, remember. I should like to follow in her wake. Let us watch to see if Tiger does the same.”

  In another half hour it was almost light, the sun being barely below the horizon. The ocean was changing from grey to blue, and a few brown and white seabirds flew overhead, winging their way from Marie-Galante to Guadeloupe in search of their morning meal of sardines. In the passage between the two islands that was open to the Atlantic beyond, the seas had risen to five feet, but did not cause an uncomfortable motion. We’ll have a bit of spray after we tack over, Neville thought.

  “Lt. Ratshaw, tell Mr. Silas he may holler down as he wishes. Bring the relay man down. There is no longer a question that we all see each other; only of what we’ll do. I still don’t see colours aloft on any of them.”

  Tiger tacked. Experiment followed a half hour later when the sun was fully up, but only one of the two unidentified ships followed. That other must be French, then, noted Neville.

  Silas yelled out, “Land Ho! Two points to larboard.”

  At 670 feet of height, Marie-Galante’s Morne Constant Hill is visible to about thirty miles in clear weather, so the sighting was not unexpected.

  “I’ll come up,” yelled Neville, and trotted to the starboard main shrouds.

  “Good work, Mr. Silas,” he said, as he settled into the top. “Pass me your glass, please.” He took a slow look all around and was surprised at what he saw. In a month of beating to windward from Jamaica, they had seen something on the order of only twenty ships, and most of those at great distance. Here there were more – maybe twenty-five – ranging in size from the small island cutters carrying troops home to the 44-gun Mary. He could see no action between any of them. Certainly, they were all mixed with the French fleet. If so, there were mostly merchants and not men-o-war.