Distant Gunfire

by David O'Neil

  There had been nearly two hundred men found toiling on the works being built by the French. They had been replaced by their former captors who, apart from their officers, were being held on the island.

  As they sailed, Robert looked over his small fleet with some satisfaction. The Guerriere was a fine, newly-built vessel of 60 guns, she would be a formidable addition to the fleet. Whilst still a little short-handed, under the command of her temporary captain she should be able to make it to Gibraltar without trouble. Roister had a full crew. Though partly made up of released prisoners, they would soon settle in. Jaipur’s Captain Keith with similar crew replacements was equally confident. The Dove completed the group, keeping up well with her escorts. Under full sail the little fleet was making good progress westward. Robert was pleased to see the gun ports of the prize opened once more for gun practice, and was not surprised when Lieutenant Walker, acting first lieutenant, approached for permission to exercise the guns. There was no sign of a reduction in the vigilance of the men despite the comparative ease of the last operation.

  Robert was under no illusion, had the French not been taken completely by surprise there could have been a different end to the mini invasion, just completed.

  ***

  The fleet lay at anchor in the bay, overshadowed by the great looming rock. The prize lay awaiting the decision of the prize court, sitting at present in Government House. There was little activity on the other two ships, HMS Jaipur sitting above its reflection creating hardly a ripple in the waters about her.

  On HMS Roister Billy Beaufort yawned and stretched, he was restless, awaiting the decision of the Prize Court as were all the other officers and men of the expeditionary force. The original members of the crew had been returned to the ship after the transit east from Djerba Island. The little fleet had experienced an untroubled journey, much to the regret of the first lieutenant who had fancied the opportunity to take the Guerriere into action, “Now we wait, we seem to be always either sitting around or rushing about!” Walker, who had just come on deck in time to hear the comment, smiled

  “You youngsters are too impatient by far, relax and enjoy the quiet times, there will be plenty to occupy ourselves with when the French come out!”

  “It’s all very well to say that, suppose the war ends soon, there will be no chances for promotion in peace time and I’m not getting any younger.” Beaufort strolled along the quarterdeck to the stern rail. Looking down into the blue water he could see the fish swimming just below the surface. He stood upright and shook his head. “Sorry, Alastair, I’m missing my lady and it’s making me moody I just wish we were busy doing something rather than sitting around, it’s easier to bear the separation.”

  A shadow passed over the face of his friend, and he was immediately contrite. “I’m sorry, Alastair, that was thoughtless of me; I should have remembered your family. Please forgive me?”

  Walker shrugged, “I now realise that in some ways I am very lucky, my son is well looked after by a father who is always at home rather than roaming the world. He and my ex-wife are not wanting anything and let’s be honest, they hardly knew me, I was at sea when my son was born. I saw him when he was two, then back to sea for one year. I then saw him for one month, we had just got to know each other when I was off again this time for two years in the Mediterranean where I was captured and enslaved for five years. When I came home, I was a stranger; my home belonged to another man as did my wife and son. I shall now admit that I could have been diverted by Miss Mansfield had she glanced in my direction, I suppose that is a sign of something. Yes, I think I have decided that the past must remain in the past, and look to the future. After all, if their lordships decide in our favour I could be comparatively wealthy. Perhaps I will be able to afford new uniforms?” He looked ruefully at the frayed cuffs of his jacket and the tarnished braid of the trim.

  The two men were interrupted by the call of the lookout. “Deck boat in sight, It’s the Captain, Sir.”

  “Bo’sun pass the word, man the side for the Captain!” The order was given quietly and, observed Walker, confidently. The crew moved about smoothly and there was no wasted time rushing to and fro, the men knew what to do without shouted orders. He suddenly realised that Billy Beaufort, for all his casual light-hearted manner, had like the rest of the ship’s company become part of a team. The men, well led, worked together. There was no carping and no use of the lash. He had not even noticed that the lash had not been used, not since he had boarded this ship in Plymouth Dockyard. Looking over the assembled side party waiting the captain he realised what the difference was, the men were willing and proud, of their ship and of their Captain in a Navy where most of the crews were pressed men and ex-felons. He was suddenly aware that he also was proud, of the ship the ship’s company and of his Captain. He straightened as the pipes rang out shrilly, welcoming Captain Graham aboard. ‘I’m a part of it he thought.’

  In the stern cabin, Robert called his officers in to hear the orders. “First, I know you will be pleased to hear that the Guerriere will be bought into the service, the prize court decided today.”

  As the murmur of approval and congratulation died down he continued. “We are ordered home to England in company with the Guerriere for duties in home waters, whatever that means. It does mean that we will get the chance to see our families, and I know that will be mean a lot to some of us anyway.” He joined in the chuckles that greeted this comment, as Lieutenant Beaufort blushed.

  “The Guerriere will sail under the command of Captain Merrick. You may recall, gentlemen, that Lady Merrick, the Captain’s wife, was one of the ladies recovered from the action at Bone last year.

  “We will be sailing in two days time so there is much to do!” he stood and the group dispersed. He stopped the first lieutenant, “Billy.” He said. “We will be sailing without our friends on Jaipur. I will be entertaining Captain Keith tonight. How about the other officers, do you think the ward room is up to it?”

  “Of course, sir, we will miss Jampot and her company. I’ll be delighted to entertain them, tomorrow. And, if it’s in order, would you care to attend as our guest?”

  “Why thank you Billy, I would be honoured.”

  ***

  The fog was thinning slowly as the Roister made her way through the grey waters of the English Channel. On the portside could just be seen the outline of the nearest ship still in company the brig Dove; astern the two East Indiamen clung to the fringes of visibility, though the clearing fog allowed more of the surrounding area to be seen almost like the withdrawing of a curtain. The Lizard Point appeared to port as the group of ships opened Falmouth bay, several fishing boats came into view in the clearing weather.

  “Our first view of England,” Lieutenant Beaufort commented, raising his glass to scan the area, “Anything to report?” He called to the masthead lookout, as the lookout made his cry “Land ho, port beam!”

  “Stay awake up there, or I’ll find you something to occupy you!” Billy Beaufort was not pleased.

  “Sorry, sir, I was watching the sail on the starboard bow, she’s a wrong–un I reckon.”

  Beaufort swung his glass to locate the sail in question in time to see the ship, a racy looking schooner, turning back into the fog towards mid-channel once more. “What did you make of her?” Beaufort asked. “Here, Dawson, take my glass and get aloft, see what you can see.”

  As Dawson ran up the rigging, glass slung round his neck, the captain came on deck. “How’s the lad managing?”

  He indicated Dawson scrambling through the rigging.

  “He’s doing well. The others already here are struggling to keep up with him in navigation; and practical seamanship seems second nature to him. I think with the right backing he’ll go far. Nice lad!”

  “So what’s all this fuss about?” Robert waved his hand towards the boy in the tops.

  “Looks like one of Peter Tregarth’s pals either late or early for a delivery.” Billy explained about the schooner tha
t had reversed its course back into the fog when they sighted Roister and her companions.

  “Any sign of her?” He called aloft.

  “Sorry, sir, she’s out of sight, the fog is still thick to the south, there’s no sign of her now!” Young Dawson slid down the backstay and returned the glass to Beaufort.

  “Log the incident, Billy. Either the smugglers are getting slack or perhaps they have too many friends; whichever, I am not happy to see British seamen trading with our country’s enemies.”

  ***

  HMS Roister lay alongside having her rigging renewed under the eagle eye of the master, Mr. Callow. Beside him stood the quartermaster Abel Jackson; the two had become good friends during the time they served on the ship. Both were anticipating a run ashore that evening.

  Mr. Callow’s wife Elizabeth was an excellent cook and her neighbour and good friend Judith would be joining them for the meal in the comfortable quarters behind the ‘Half Moon’ Inn, owned by the Callow family and run in Sam’s absence by Elizabeth. Judith helped in the Inn on the occasions when it became busy on market and feast days. She was the widow of an Excise man, shot by smugglers during a raid over the county border into Cornwall. Three officers died that night on the cliffs above St. Austell Bay.

  Judith was a fresh-faced country lass of slender build, 27 years old, and she had liked the look of Abel Jackson from the moment she had first seen him in the inn. As for Abel, he was looking forward to furthering his acquaintance with the lady.

  As he stood on deck beside his friend Sam Callow, his face broke into a smile that lightened his rather stern angular face. “Why, Sam, I must say I’m looking forward to Elizabeth’s cooking tonight, she does have a way with that Stargazy Pie.”

  Sam looked sideways at his friend. “You’re not fooling me, Abel Jackson; my Lizzie’s pie is great I grant you, but ‘tiz Judith that brought that smile to your face!”

  “Well I do admit, she does stir up this old man’s blood, but not to detract from Lizzie’s pie. The both together are enough for any red-blooded man, you mark me!”

  Mr. Callow turned, spotting something that did not please him. “Watch that sheet, you great lummox, you got it twisted through the sheave. Get it straightened out before I come up and box your ears!” This was to one of the workmen on the rigging who incidentally was twice the size of the diminutive Mr. Callow. “Aye aye sir,” the big man grinned and straightened the rope as ordered, much to the amusement of Abel Jackson. He was made aware once more of the respect the dockyard workers had for his friend.

  That night in the snug quarters behind the Inn the four friends enjoyed a convivial evening, and Abel Jackson made up his mind. However, before he could raise the subject, Elizabeth Callow—with a straight face—asked him when he would like to have the party.

  “Party? What party?” Abel was puzzled.

  “Why, your betrothal party, of course. Am I the only one here who knows then?” She asked innocently with a sweet smile.

  Abel spluttered, Judith blushed and Sam roared with laughter and said. “She got you going there!”

  “But I haven’t asked her yet!” Abel said.

  “Well, you better get on with it, you silly man. We can’t all wait forever, you know!” Lizzie’ could hold it in no more and she collapsed into the arms of Sam and the pair dissolved completely with laughter at the dumbfounded faces of their two friends.

  Abel turned to Judith sitting next to him. “Will you?” he said hesitantly.

  “Oh I suppose so, yes.” She replied and flung her arms round his neck and kissed him soundly on the lips.

  “Am I to understand that I am not the only member of the crew to be getting married while we are in England?” Abel heard the Captain behind him and turned hastily from checking stores being unloaded to enable the ship’s hull to be fumigated.

  “Why, yes sir,” he stammered, blushing in his embarrassment. “I am proud to say that my proposal has been accepted. We are to be married two weeks hence on the Saturday, in the church down by the Hard. All are welcome.”

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Jackson, I will bring my fiancé Miss Beaufort if I may, and if you are here at the time I would welcome you and your lady to my own wedding, one month hence in the Church at Hartwell Hall. You shall receive an invitation from Miss Beaufort direct.”

  Robert made a note in his cabin and sent a note to Barbara to change the invitation to the wedding from Mr. Jackson and friend, to Mr. and Mrs. Jackson. In addition, he advised her of their invitation to attend at the church in Plymouth for the wedding of the Purser and his lady.

  The preparation for the wedding was left to the efforts of the Countess and Barbara. Between them they recruited Squire Graham and the Marquis, both of whom were only too pleased to assist.

  It was the efforts of Mrs. Callow of the Half Moon Inn, and Mrs. Wharton from the Manor that made the difference. The cook at Hartwell Hall was accomplished but for the local delicacies, the two ladies excelled themselves, leaving the trained chef at the Hall open mouthed in admiration. As Mrs. Callow told her husband, he had asked for, and received the recipe for her Stargazy Pie, for future feasts at the Hall.

  The Chapel at Hartwell Hall was cleared and decorated for the occasion and bridesmaids from the local gentry invited and clothed. By the time Robert and Billy stood side by side before the altar, waiting for the appearance of Barbara and her father, it could be said that all that should be done had been done.

  The entrance of Barbara on the arm of her father was dramatic and heart-stopping as far as Robert was concerned. She was stunning in a white dress of fine muslin, styled like that of her mother’s when she married the Marquis. The bouquet of red roses made a splash of colour against the pale gown. The Marquis, in a blue coat with his star and decorations of his rank, looked proud as they strode down the aisle.

  To Robert the rest of the ceremony passed in a moment and it seemed that they were exchanging the rings while he was still taking in the promises they had made. The crowd assembled outside the Chapel was huge. The couple were well liked in the area and many of the guests came from London and even further afield.

  The couple led the ball that lasted until the following morning, though by then the happy couple were well on their way to the London house.

  Chapter Twelve

  Baron and Baroness Brimpton were giving a reception at their Berkshire home when Robert’s new orders arrived. Robert and his new wife Barbara, as guests of honour, were dressing for dinner when the courier from the Admiralty came with the package for Captain Graham of HM frigate Roister. The happy smile on the face of his new wife was replaced by a rueful grin that quickly became a broad smile for his benefit. Observing this Robert took her hands in his. “I always knew how lucky I was when I found you, whenever I look at you I think I could not love you more, its then that I discover I do!”

  He bent and kissed each of her hands. She put her hands on either side of his face and looked into his eyes.

  “I knew you were likely to be called away for much of our lives together; I married a naval officer after all. Just keep coming back to me, my love. Now read your orders and we will make our arrangements for the future.”

  He opened the packet and read the documents within.

  “I am to report to the Collector of Customs in London in two days time to discuss strategy to stop the illegal import of goods from France and Holland. The ship is to be careened to clean her copper and give her the speed to catch the smugglers’ ships that are causing havoc amongst the revenue cutters presently engaged.

  “It seems they do not have the speed or the armament to tackle the smugglers effectively, especially the two schooners that are operating in the Western approaches to the channel; both are apparently armed with 9 gun broadsides probably as heavy as 12 pounders, certainly 9 pounders. The cutters 6 pounder popguns don’t have a chance against them. I will be stationed at whichever of the channel dockyard ports that I find convenient. So, my love, it may not be a long separ
ation after all.”

  News of Admiral Nelson’s victory at Abukir Bay had been gazetted to tumultuous celebrations by the people of England.

  After the victory at Cape St Vincent last year the stock of the Royal Navy had been high, but the disaster of the Mutiny at Spithead had quickly changed things. Now most of the action in the war was confined to the land. The king of Naples, having captured Rome, was evicted from there and had lost Naples as well. It seems that Napoleon was unbeatable on land at least.

  The lull in enemy activity at sea at the time was largely due to the blockades being maintained at the major French ports containing the bulk of the French Naval forces. The boring trudge to and fro keeping the entries and exits of the enemy ports sealed was a soul destroying business, but it did release some of the hard pressed fleet to perform other tasks. The rising number of attacks by privateers on merchant ships, and smugglers, in both directions, combined with the disaffection among the sailors of the fleet through sheer boredom and harsh discipline was all having its effect on the morale and efficiency of the service.”