by David O'Neil
“His father died and they had a problem with the local squire over the house occupied by their mother; the matter was not resolved until the squire fell off his horse and managed to spear himself on his own sword. There were no witnesses so, who knows?
“Suspicion made life difficult for Peter so he joined his brother with the fishing.” He finished his story with a shrug. “The rest just seemed to happen. Supply and demand, plus a good knowledge of the coast here, and over the water, coupled with an unpopular import duty led to the so called Free Trade being born. The war has in fact fostered it.”
Robert decided that he must have some vague memory from the days of his youth in the Manor house, but why should Tregarth be interested in him now? He shrugged, his future would take him far from here and unlikely to lead to further contact. He promptly forgot Peter Tregarth, having remembered where he knew the name Martin Walker.
He had made a point of visiting the home of William Dawson, at Broadway when he had arrived in Plymouth from London. He had made his way via the Channel Packet to Weymouth and hired a horse for the three-mile trip to the little village of Broadway.
The parents of William Dawson were very pleased to see him and most grateful for the gift of £100.00 contributed by the officers and crew of the ‘Witch’. Robert was not impressed by the son-in-law married to Dawson’s sister. He suspected that much of the money would end up in his hands; he shrugged, there was little he could do. While there he was presented to Dawson’s son.
At twelve years old he was a fine upstanding young man who obviously disliked his uncle intensely. Young Alan was cared for by the younger brother of William and his wife, but both had been killed when the coach to Dorchester had been held up. The driver had been killed and the coach horses had bolted, careering over the edge of the road at speed, leaving the passengers piled up in a heap of broken bodies. His uncle broke his neck and his aunt died of blood poisoning within three days. The ten-year-old orphan had been brought up since by his Grandparents.
Dawson senior asked Robert quietly if the lad could be taken on as a midshipman. The Commander had entered him on the books as captain’s servant over two years ago so he could join as midshipman if a Captain would accept him. They could fund his uniform and such. Robert questioned the lad in private, not that he would not have taken him anyway, just that he wanted to hear from the boy how he felt about going to sea. He need not have worried, Alan Dawson had been preparing himself for a career at sea ever since he was old enough to know what his father’s profession was. Impressed with the lad Robert took him back with him on his return to the ship. Alan Dawson was appointed as Midshipman in HMS Roister the following day, with the creases newly pressed on his first uniform jacket.
***
Robert visited Barbara on several occasions during the refitting of the ship, and she visited the ship with her father the week before it was completed. The special sea cabinet for wines and glasses was now standing in his cabin, a gift from his prospective father-in-law.
The Marquis had been seriously delighted that his strong-minded daughter had found a man she would marry, and, what’s more, one that he approved.
He was a bluff country gentleman who adored his daughter and thoroughly approved of her sensible outlook on life, noticeably more practical than her contemporaries from within the local hunting set.
He came of ancient lineage, and would often be heard boasting of the Viking origins of his Norman ancestors, and the bloody history associated with them. In view of the paternal way he regarded and treated his tenants, this caused some amusement to his immediate family.
Robert had ridden horses since he was big enough to sit a saddle. What is more, his riding instructions had been undertaken by a onetime farrier-Sergeant of the Life Guards. Once the Squire’s coachman, Michael Green was now the village blacksmith. Robert’s training had followed the program required for recruits to the Cavalry, and started with bareback riding and progressed from there. His father had always deemed it necessary for a gentleman to learn the accomplishments of gentlemen, and despite his relaxed upbringing nothing important had been ignored.
Visiting Hartwell Hall, Barbara’s home required that he ride, usually on his one of his own horses; he now had several in the Manor stables. But as the sailing date drew near, Barbara and the Countess came and stayed at the Manor conveniently closer to Plymouth. Although their homes were only twelve miles apart as the crow flew, the different county roads entailed a much extended journey to cover the distance between the two properties.
This saved Robert the extra journey involved to see his fiancé. His father was hale and hearty and had over the past few weeks become acquainted with his prospective daughter-in-law, Barbara. They found an easy friendship between them. Squire Graham had lost his wife, Robert’s French mother, when Robert was eight and he had never remarried. He found new friends at Hartwell Hall and he made sure that welcome awaited visitors from Hartwell when they came to the Manor.
The Countess and he became particular friends, finding many common likes and dislikes. Both were confirmed in their present lifestyles and the question of romance between them never arose; but she welcomed the visits, and enjoyed the lively discussions between them. At the Graham celebration of the betrothal she offered her services as hostess for the occasion and graced the event personally with great panache.
For Robert and Barbara the good relations’ between the two families was a great boon. The social climate could have made things difficult, but the similar backgrounds of both fathers made the association of the two families easier than it might have been. As Lord Hartwell pointed out, the two crusty old widowers had a lot in common apart from their children.
The betrothal celebration at Hartwell was held during the last week before sailing, the ship being left in the charge of Lieutenant Walker while the others attended the celebration. Robert, torn between his new command and his love for Barbara found the period very trying.
When Roister was finally ready for sea, it was a relief to get back into the ship routine. Although the past few weeks had been among the happiest in his life, Robert was ready to resume his chosen career. The last three days were busy and when the eve of sailing day arrived, Robert entertained his fiancé, the Countess and both parents, in his newly refurbished cabin.
Since he was not aware of the full extent of his forthcoming detachment, his orders taking him to Gibraltar only, they were unable to decide when he would be available to marry, but the evening went well despite this uncertainty.
Chapter Eight
The surface of the water was grey and choppy, the wind whipping spray from the wave tops. Across Plymouth Harbour the anchored ships rocked and pulled at their moorings in the rising wind.
The orders for HMS Roister required them to carry a passenger to Gibraltar on behalf of the Foreign Office. They were still awaiting his arrival, and the timing was becoming critical if they were to make the tide. So it was with some impatience Captain Graham stalked the deck of his new command awaiting his passenger.
“How is the tide, Mr. Beaufort?” Robert said gruffly.
“It’s on the turn now sir, we really should be away already.” Beaufort was sounding worried, and with reason, as the tide, once it really started running, would be difficult to stem, even in the blustery wind.
The officer of the watch, Lieutenant Ogilvie called at that moment, “Boat approaching starboard side.”
As he approached the ship in command of the gig, Midshipman Alan Dawson was thinking how three weeks in the ship had made a complete difference to his life. Always a natural on the water he had taken to the handling of the gig without a problem, his easy friendly manner had made him popular with the seamen of his watch. The fact that he was his father’s son had also helped, and to Alan it seemed that he had come home. When he first arrived on board he had learned his way about so quickly it had gained him respect in the gunroom, it now felt as if he had been in Roister for years.
The gi
g rounded the stern of the merchantman lying to shoreward of the frigate, and with a flourish of oars ran alongside the Roister. The bo’sun called for the falls to be attached and had the boat and crew complete with passengers raised and swung over to drop neatly into the chocks on the main deck. Alan leapt out of his place to assist the passengers onto the deck. The two women thus helped out of the boat looked round in a bewildered manner at the sight of the seamen marching round the windlass, raising the anchor, whilst others ran around the rigging releasing the sails. As the sails cracked open in the breeze, the cry, ‘Anchors aweigh,’ came from the foc’sle; and the ship began to make headway, nodding her head into the waves driven by the tide.
Robert watched while the salutes were exchanged with the admiral’s flag, and the frigate gained headway against the incoming tide. After watching their progress for a few minutes, he realised that they would be able to clear the headland and, with a relieved sigh, he turned to the waiting passengers.
Surprised in the first place that it was two people waiting to introduce themselves; not one, both women. The nearer dressed in men’s breeches and riding boots, he had initially thought to be a man but now seeing her properly standing erect with the black hair cut close to her head and piercing dark eyes, he realised how mistaken he had been. Full five-feet six inches tall, handsome rather than pretty with a fine drawn face; he estimated she would be about thirty years old. The other, shorter than the first; pretty, fair-haired and blue-eyed, dressed conventionally in bonnet blouse and skirt, with a shawl round her shoulders, carried a carpet bag.
“We are expected, I believe?” The voice was throaty and cultured, with just a touch of something in the accent that made Robert think she may not be English.
“Of course,” Robert said. “Though I was not told you would be a lady.” He amended his comment. “Two ladies,” he answered.
“I would have travelled alone, but convention demands that on a ship crewed entirely by men I must have a chaperone, hence my companion, Amelie. I am Charlotte Mansfield at your service.” She bowed, inclining her head.
Bowing back to the lady Robert introduced himself.
“Captain Robert Graham at your service, Madam... er Miss….Mansfield.”
“I am a widow, Captain. My friends call me Lotte. Since we will be together on you little ship, you may find it easier to address me as Lotte.” She smiled, and her face lit up and he realised she was quite beautiful. She indicated the bags that were now placed on the deck beside her companion. “Perhaps we can be shown our accommodations so that I may get changed!”
“Of course, Madam – er – Lotte. Meadows, here man!” His servant appeared with two seamen to take the bags and the ladies to the captain’s cabin. Robert had moved out to the first lieutenant’s cabin, causing the first lieutenant to oust the second from his cabin, consigning Walker to the gunroom.
Out in the open sea the breeze freshened and the motion of the frigate steadied as she set course for Gibraltar down the channel and through the Bay of Biscay. The wind from the quarter allowed the ship to carry full sail, and she fairly flew across the blue water, flinging up a fine spray to spatter across the foc’sle and create a large damp area of deck. The passengers were both on deck standing by the starboard rigging. The companion Amelie’s hair had escaped from her bonnet, so she had removed it and it streamed out like a blond pennant in the breeze. She was laughing from the sheer joy at the motion of the ship and wind in her hair. Lotte smiled, her own hair free to flick and flutter also. She was dressed today in a dress that clung to the contours of her body in the steady breeze.
The midshipman of the watch, young Robin Abbot, was standing as close to the two women as he could, ready to dance attendance on their slightest wish.
Concealing a smile, Lieutenant Walker, officer of the watch, called Abbot and gave him a navigation problem to work out. To his evident chagrin, Abbot left the deck to collect his journals and instruments to perform his task.
The ladies walked backwards and forwards on the after end of the deck, Lotte stopping to pass the time of day with Walker on the way.
During the first two days, the ladies added a new dimension to the lives of the officers and men of the ship. They had maintained smiling faces since they had boarded the ship in Plymouth. Their late arrival had been caused by the conditions on the road from London. Far from being the servant of Lotte, Amelie Parker was her colleague. Both, it seemed, were experts in their fields, though it was not readily apparent just what these fields covered. Robert was told in his orders to exercise tact in the matter and thus he discouraged discussion of the subject whenever it rose.
Whilst not as vividly handsome as Lotte, Amelie was a pretty woman, who seemed to be quite unaware of her good looks; content, it seemed, to stand in the shadow of her more dramatic-looking friend.
There was no doubt the crew admired them both, though they kept their distance. The ladies were particularly interested in the daily exercise of the guns, and both were happy to stand by the wheel whilst the gun crews ran out the guns and loaded and fired at targets flung overside for the purpose; mainly barrels or crates. The extra powder used had been provided by Robert for that purpose. The first lieutenant was well pleased with the speed of loading and the accuracy of the guns when fired.
He was himself very taken with the lady Amelie Parker and sought her company whenever it was possible. She, it seemed, enjoyed the attention though she took care to give more attention to the rather gauche conversational offerings of Lieutenant Walker and the midshipmen when they had the chance. David Ogilvie pursued Lotte to absolutely no avail. Lotte treated all with polite attention, encouraging none and offending none. She made it quite clear that she had no interest in men at the moment, though privately Robert had the impression that there were circumstances which could change her attitude.
The days of smooth sailing were all too short and soon Cape Trafalgar appeared to port and the ship had to make the turn to enter the strait and into the bay of Gibraltar.
The harbour was busy with ships, the Mediterranean fleet preparing to sail the next day.
They sailed into the harbour, firing the salute to the Admiral’s flag, but as soon as they dropped anchor the signal for Robert to repair on board the flagship was made and acknowledged. He was rowed across immediately. He had to say farewell to the two ladies who were being taken ashore as he boarded the gig. Whilst he welcomed the use of his cabin once more, he would, like the rest of the crew, miss their cheerful chatter, and the softening effect on the atmosphere of the normally all-male society of the ship.
Rear Admiral Willard had a hard, sour, look and a reputation to match. He was temporarily in command of the Mediterranean fleet, and already overdue for relief.
It seemed he was not expected to live to enjoy retirement, the way he treated his captains, made them feel that he intended taking them with him. His orders were brief, the Roister was to patrol the North African coast and intercept, where possible, any ships found to be interfering with the free passage of the merchant convoys passing through the area. The orders were to intercept and take such steps as necessary to terminate the activities of these North African pirates. As Robert observed to Lieutenant Beaufort, orders like this can be interpreted in more than one way, and god help the captain that chose the wrong one.
One of the problems involved in carrying out their orders was the existence of an agreement with the Bey of Tunis, who had promised to stop interference with British ships passing his shores in return for a generous annual payment from the British Government. Unfortunately the Bey’s orders were not always obeyed and several ships had been attacked and taken along the coast of Barbary.
***
The longboat crept carefully and silently into the harbour at Bougie. The North African night was like black velvet with the stars scattered across the sky, the immediate area was dark but the waterfront was lit up by fires along the shore and the sound of drums and pipes seemed to vibrate the very air.
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In the long boat the men were packed together waiting for the order to be given. Lieutenant Walker was poised, ready to board the moored galley, one of three lying at anchor in the harbour. The other two were targets of the gig and the two jollyboats, commanded by Ogilvie and Midshipman Abbot and Masters Mate Hanson, the giant Swede, one of the volunteers in the crew, with Alan Dawson.
As the boats approached their targets, Alan Dawson turned to Hanson, “Do you ever get scared before a job like this?”
Big Sven smiled and looking across at the diminutive midshipman “Once the action starts all fear disappears, you are too busy surviving to worry about the ones you’re up against. You’ll see!”
Shipping the oars, and using rope fenders, the longboat came gently alongside the galley. Once the boat was stopped, held in place by several of the crew, Peter Morse, in the bow, crawled over the bulwarks of the galley and disappeared from view, Peter had been a poacher. Having been arrested he was given the choice, the Navy or the treadmill; having chosen the Navy he had fitted in with the top-men and become a valued member of the crew. When his head appeared once more he signalled the first group to board. Six men climbed quietly onto the galley; there was a brief scuffle and a strangled cry, then the signal was given for the others to board. On the stern deck, Walker raised the shielded lantern and opened the panel in the direction of the other three boats. He closed and opened it twice. Then, receiving an answering flash from the other boats, he ordered Abbot to have the lateen sails raised to sail out of the harbour with the offshore breeze. The slaves were stirring with the activity around them, and a murmuring rose from the benches. The six marines in the party cocked their muskets and strode along the walkway between the benches hushing the chained men. Walker spoke to the slaves in a language they obviously understood because they quietened down immediately.