by Tom Grundner
The people had forgiven the government for firing him and bringing him home because, well, they had brought him home. Any town that was anywhere, anyone who was anyone, wanted to honor him. His wife and daughters could not even attend a concert or a play without receiving a standing ovation, not only when they came in but also at odd intervals during the evening, which quite unhinged the performers.
“Oh, that was a time,” Walker smiled in reminiscence. But it was also a sad period. A few days after they landed at Bristol, a platoon of Coldstream Guards showed up to take Bill Hanover back to London in royal exile from the navy. Then Sidney Smith left to see if he could get a new assignment from the Admiralty; and a day later Susan Whitney caught a carriage to Portsmouth, anxious to see if her mother was alright or, for that matter, even still alive. He would miss them. He really and truly would.
He heard a polite tapping at the door and his landlady came in bearing a letter.
“A messenger just came for you, sir, in a naval uniform. Such a handsome young man, too.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Wilson.”
He broke the red fouled-anchor seal on the back and opened it.
Sir,
Your presence is requested and required at Admiralty House, this Thursday December 12th, instant, at 2:00 PM. A carriage will be sent for you at your lodgings at 1:30 PM sharp.
I am...
Your most obedient servant,
Lord Walter Howell
“Thursday? That’s tomorrow.”
* * *
As promised, a stately coach and four pulled up to his doorstep at precisely 1:30. It was big, black, and quite out of place in his neighborhood. A very stiff and formal footman opened the door and Walker stepped in to see that both Sidney Smith and Susan Whitney were already inside.
They greeted each other as only old friends can, quickly getting caught up on the events of the past few weeks. Smith had been unsuccessful at getting another ship, but he still had hope. Susan’s mother was visibly older looking than she remembered, but in good health. Her mother couldn’t believe the prize money that Susan took out of her purse and started crying. In her poverty, that small purse represented over two years living expenses—more if carefully managed.
“So why are we here?” Walker asked. “Why are we going to Admiralty House?”
No one had an answer. Susan just commented on the stir it made in her neighborhood when the carriage arrived to pick her up.
They entered through the ornate double oak doors of Admiralty House, were greeted by a reception clerk, and presented him with their letters.
“Lord Howell is waiting for you. Follow me, please.”
They were led up a flight of ornate wooden stairs, down a darkened hallway lined with portraits of famous captains and admirals, and escorted into a large conference room. At one end, seated behind a table, was a gentleman preoccupied with the papers in front of him.
As they approached, he stood and came around the table. He introduced himself as Lord Walter Howell and shook hands all around. He already knew the names of the three people standing before him.
“Thank you for coming. Please, be seated,” he began. “I know you are all very busy people so I’ll not keep you any longer than I must.”
Howell pulled together several sheets that were before him on the desk, adjusted his spectacles, and consulted the papers.
“I have recently come from St. James Palace. It seems His Majesty is most grateful for your efforts in rescuing his son, Prince William. The prince has told us about the... ah... various adventures you had. The Queen Mother, after recovering several times from the vapors, told the king that he simply must do something for ‘those young people,’ and the King quite agreed. That’s why I am here.
“More specifically...” and here he consulted his papers again.
“Lieutenant Smith.” Sidney straightened up in his chair. “You are to be given command of the 18-gun sloop of war, Fury. The Admiralty Board has also received a ‘strongest suggestion’ from His Highness that this is to be viewed as a temporary command and that, as soon as you have acquired the requisite experience, you are to be promoted to post-captain and given command of a frigate of not less than 32 guns.”
Sidney could hardly believe what he so clearly heard. He was to be made post-captain years ahead of his time; and, better yet, given the one thing that all naval officers desire most in life—command of a ship—his own ship.
“Miss Whitney. As a member of the fairer sex, His Majesty thanks you in particular for your heroism. As a small token of his esteem, he would be most pleased if you would accept Thistledown, a 500 acre estate, with manor house, in Kent and a stipend of 1000 pounds a year.
The color began to drain from Susan’s face.
“Oh yes, one other thing. At the absolute insistence of the prince—and I know this for a fact as I was in the room at the time—you are to be appointed a ‘Maiden-in-Waiting to the Court of St. James.’ As a result of that appointment, you will henceforth be known as: ‘Lady Susan Whitney.’”
The color now reversed itself, bringing a blush to her face as she thought about her mother and the discussion she once had with Bill... with the prince... so long ago.
“And, finally, Mr. Walker. The king thanks you as well for your heroic efforts and also awards you a stipend of 1000 pounds a year. In addition, and I am not quite sure I understand this, but... the prince insisted the Admiralty be given the king’s ‘strongest suggestion’ to confirm your permanent, active-duty, warrant as a Ship’s Surgeon and Natural Philosopher in His Majesty’s Royal Navy—effective immediately.”
Lord Howell looked up, smiling, only to see Walker’s eyes open in horror. Walker’s head jerked to the left and saw Sidney Smith convulsed with laughter. He knew. Smith knew this was going to happen. Hell, he probably arranged it.
“SMITH!!!” Walker screamed.
HISTORICAL POSTSCRIPT
In many ways historical fiction is, I believe, the easiest kind to write. The reason is because the things that actually happened usually outstrip anything the author could have imagined, or anything the reader would otherwise readily believe. Very little needs to be made up. You simply create the main characters, then get out of their way and let them bring the actual events to life. That’s what happened here, and what will be happening throughout the Sir Sidney Smith series.
Be that as it may, most readers of historical fiction still have a question constantly running in the back of their minds. “Did that really happen, or did the author make it up?” “Did they really say that?” “Did they really do that?”
I can understand the question and, at risk of revealing how un-fertile my imagination really is, I’ve written this postscript to separate fact from fiction in the novel you just read.
To wit:
CHAPTER ONE
The HMS Richmond was a real frigate in the Royal Navy and participated in the “Battle of the Capes.” Captain Charles Hudson was her commander at the time. John Rooney is a fictional character, as is Susan Whitney and Lucas Walker.
William Sidney Smith, however, was very real and was, in fact, a young lieutenant serving on the HMS Alcide at the battle. I merely moved him to the Richmond to make the acquaintance of Walker and Whitney. Smith, later Admiral Sir William Sidney Smith, went on to a brilliant and daring career that rivaled that of the British national hero, Horatio Nelson—whom Smith detested. The remainder of the books in this series, will involve Walker, Whitney and Smith in some of Smith’s actual, and most extraordinary, exploits.
The ship’s various routines, including the flogging (which was not routine but certainly did happen) are, throughout the book, as accurate as I could make it.
CHAPTER TWO
Smith’s personal history, as well as that of his father, is all true. Included in that, in case you’re wondering, is the incident with the girl and the washtub boat. It happened exactly as described. Smith’s description of advancement in the Royal Navy is accurate, along wit
h the Army’s policy of selling commissions.
The description of 18th Century shipboard medicine is as accurate as I could make it, along with the ease with which one could become a physician or surgeon in those days.
The British fleet that was on its way to Yorktown is accurate down to the ships names, respective sizes, and commanding officers.
CHAPTER THREE
The Battle of the Capes took place exactly as described including the ship names on both sides, their formations, the times, places, signals, actions, reactions, tactical quandaries, and mistakes. Admiral Graves and Admiral Hood literally spent the rest of their days blaming each other for the defeat in books, articles, and public appearances.
If the scenes of human carnage aboard the Shrewbury seem quite realistic, it’s because they are. I worked from 18th Century eyewitness accounts of casualties in other naval battles of the period, condensed them, and placed our hero in the middle. If it seems too gory and cruel to believe, it’s because it was too gory and cruel to believe. I did not make up any of it. It was the way things were.
Finally, Prince William Henry was indeed King George III’s third son. He was indeed a midshipman of some promise, and he was in New York on a morale tour during this period. I moved him down to Yorktown to thicken the plot, as it were. Prince William eventually became King William IV. If there had been no William the IV, there would have been no Queen Victoria, his successor, and 19th Century British and world history would, I believe, have been quite different.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Town of York was as described in 1781. Indeed, Nelson House, the Swan Tavern and Moore House not only existed, but still exist and can be toured as part of the Yorktown National Battlefield. I highly recommend you visit it if you are in the area (and my thanks to the caretaker who let me in to see Moore House, even though it was past hours).
The Richmond and the Iris were, in fact, dispatched back to Yorktown to destroy the French anchorage. They were both trapped by the returning French fleet and captured.
William Sidney Smith did indeed have two brothers named Charles and John; but his sister with the fancy name, Victoria Alexandrina, is fiction. I contrived it as a device to get Queen Victoria’s name into the story (and to show off that I knew her real name).
CHAPTER FIVE
The breakout along the beach is fictional, although the terrain, including the cove and sentry position, is correct. Our hero’s inability to swim the cove is not exceptional. Almost no one in the 18th Century Royal Navy could swim and they could not for the reasons given in the story. If your ship went down, to where would you swim? Rescue helicopters were in remarkably short supply back then.
The presence of profiteers during the War of Independence was certainly a fact and many of them did trail the Army to sell the army back its own goods. The term “blagger” is an old British slang word for a “con man.”
Susan’s home neighborhood of Portsmouth Common is historical along with the school she attended, Portsmouth Grammar School on Penny Street. Portsmouth Grammar was considered radical in its day for providing free education to the poor, the working class, and especially to girls.
The descriptions of the woods and the fields of daffodils in the vicinity of Gloucester are accurate. It seems that area of Virginia is the perfect environment for daffodils to flourish. Early settlers brought the bulbs with them from England where they got passed around and planted in all sorts of locations. One variety in particular, the Trumpet Major, seemed to thrive on neglect. In the 1930’s Gloucester was named the “Daffodil Capital of America” and, to this day, they hold a festival every spring to commemorate its history.
The description of Gloucestertown is historically correct including my descriptions of the Courthouse Tavern and the Debtor’s Prison. The “Tavern at the Gloucester Courthouse” was described in an advertisement in a 1774 edition of the Virginia Gazette. Amazingly, it really did have a billiard table. Both buildings still stand. The fishing village, however, is fictional even though there is a “Drum Point” and there is a road called “Bailey’s Wharf” in the vicinity.
Letters of Introduction were common requirements for travel in Colonial days and convicted criminals really were branded on the palms of their right hands. That is the origin of “raising your right hand” before giving testimony on a courtroom. The court is simply checking out your rap sheet.
The burley Hugh Hayes is a fictional character. Any resemblance between him and a certain All-State left tackle that played next to me on our high school football team is purely coincidental.
CHAPTER SIX
The Debtor’s Prison is as described and can still be seen in the town of Gloucester, where the barred rear windows do indeed face the street as described.
Captain Finch is fictional, but “Washington’s Wolfpack” is not. They were the U.S. Navy before there was a U.S. Navy. Unfortunately, few modern readers have ever heard of them (H-m-m-m, might be the grist for a novel there).
Hayes’ description of the lot of a pressed man was accurate. They were literally picked up off the streets and involuntarily whisked away to a waiting ship. Each was asked if they were willing to join rather than be pressed. The only difference was that if you joined you received a shilling (known as “Taking the King’s Coin”) and the word “Vol” was put after your name in the ships muster book. Either way, you were going.
The press might sound like a cruel and capricious institution and, in many ways, it was; but, it would be a mistake to judge it from the standpoint of our modern, social safety-netted, society. In 18th Century England, being “poor” did not mean you were unable to afford a color television—it meant you were unable to eat—and there was no shortage of poor people.
Yes, people were involuntarily swept up and placed on those ships. But they were also guaranteed three meals a day, clothing, a sheltered place to sleep, a tot of rum per day, and medical care—all of which was unheard of in the slums of London. And yes, being in His Majesty’s Navy was hard, dangerous, work where you could easily be killed or maimed. But that was equally true of working in the mines, mills and, later, the factories of the era. The very concept of OSHA would have been laughable in the 18th Century.
True, the Navy did not pay well, but you also had no immediate expenses and there was a possibility of growing relatively wealthy via the prize money you could earn.
Hayes’ description of his torn loyalties between living under the Crown and living in a free society were representative of thousands of people in the colonies. His statement: “We just want to be left alone. Is that too much to ask?” pretty much sums up most people’s attitude toward the whole war.
The first experimental military rockets were indeed developed by General Thomas Desaguliers (1683-1744) at the Royal Laboratory in Woolwich; but they proved to be too uncontrollable for practical use. After the period of this book, however, Thomas Congreve, Jr. perfected several versions that were more workable. Indeed, when we sing our national anthem and relive “the rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air” over Fort McHenry—those were Congreve Rockets. The stabilizing system that Congreve used was a long pole trailing after the rocket, sort of like the “bottle rockets” kids (young and old) will set off today on the Fourth of July. It wasn’t until the fin was developed, however, that rockets became stable enough for practical use.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Tisiphone was a real ship, which, under Captain James Saumarez, distinguished itself at the Bay of Biscay, and was selected to deliver the news to Admiral Hood in the West Indies.
Captain, later Admiral, Saumarez was to become one of the greatest fighting captains in the Royal Navy, some would say second only to the great Nelson (or Thomas Cochrane, or Sidney Smith—this topic will draw an argument every time among historians of the period). He distinguished himself in numerous major battles including being Nelson’s second-in-command at the Battle of the Nile. (See The Temple - Book 3 of the Sir Sidney Smith Series.)
&nbs
p; Cornwallis’ surrender occurred as detailed including the alleged playing of the song: “The World Turned Upside Down.” Modern scholars, however, now doubt that particular piece of musical tradition because: a) it is not mentioned in any of the eyewitness accounts of the surrender, and b) as Saumarez points out—Cornwallis had no band in his army. However, it is true that Admiral Hood set forth to rescue Cornwallis on the very day he surrendered.
The Battle of Biscay (also known as the Second Battle of Ushant) occurred as described and dealt a crippling blow to France’s attempts to reinforce and re-supply DeGrasse.
Hiram Boult is a fictional character along with his approach to medicine. Any resemblance between him and a former colleague of mine from my medical school teaching days is purely coincidental—even if Chad would have loved to serve on one of those ships.