Spotting a lugger beating out of the harbor, Phillips hung out his number, and gave her a gun. She was a dispatch vessel on her way to the Channel Fleet, or what was left of it still on duty. Questioning her captain, a twenty year old lieutenant with his first command, he found all ships had accepted the new terms negotiated by ‘Black Dick’ Howe. No ships in Plymouth were now flying the red flag.
While waiting for the ship to make its way to a mooring point, Phillips noticed the new ship’s surgeon leaning over some apparatus mounted on a tiny table. Asking his first lieutenant, he replied the doctor had some kind of curiosity he was investigating. Phillips ambled over to the contraption and questioned Doctor Perkins.
“Sir” Perkins said, pointing to a brown colored liquid in a glass on the table. “This is a sample of water drawn from one of the butts in the lowest tier. This is what we have been drinking lately. I think the water has been in that butt a very long time. I wonder if you would care to look at it through the glass?”
Examining the equipment, Phillips found it amounted to a framework, in which a very powerful magnifying glass was mounted. A pair of adjusting screws on each side raised or lowered the glass a minute amount with a turn of the screws. Beneath the glass was an open platform a few inches square.
Receiving a nod of agreement, the doctor took a small glass plate and fixed it on the little platform. Picking up a small glass rod, he inserted it into the glass and gave it a stir. Pulling the rod from the liquid, he held it over the glass plate, giving it a tap. A small drop of the brown water was deposited on the slide. He invited his captain to look, showing him how to adjust the height to suit his vision.
In the bright light from the sun overhead, Phillips saw a myriad of animated tiny organisms in the water, swarming about. The doctor now retrieved a small flask from his bag, and used the rod to extract another liquid droplet from it. “This is a little neat rum with lime juice added, the same as we use in our men’s grog.” he said.
After adding a droplet of this new material to the old sample, he invited his captain to look again.”
Observing carefully, Phillips noticed that many of the organisms were now still, with a few thrashing about, then becoming quiet, “What do you make of this, Doctor?” he asked.
“I am not really sure. It seems these animalculae do not like our rum, however.
Immediately after the salute to the Flag on entering Plymouth harbor, signals mounted the staff on shore. His signal officer immediately read it off. ‘Jason, Captain report to the Flag’. Phillips had already been anticipating that order, and was on his quarterdeck, freshly shaven, wearing his best uniform, and clutching the weighted leather case with the papers the admiral was likely to demand. The orders justifying all his high-handed maneuvering to the fore. The launch and boat crew from the Admiralty had followed the troops to the ship, so Phillips was able to use people he knew to be trustworthy. His cox’n had already ensured the barge’s crew was also ready to meet the most painstaking scrutiny ashore. As he gingerly descended the ship’s side, and found his seat in the boat, the bowman fended the boat free of the frigate and they were on their way to shore. As they approached the quay, Phillips noticed a solid block of red-coated Marines quickly come apart, and by the time they hooked on at the quay, a statue-like Marine was stationed every few yard along the seawall. Each with a gleaming spike bayonet fastened to the muzzle of his Sea Pattern musket.
Of course, the crew of this frigate had been in a state of mutiny a few days before, and for all the Port Admiral knew, was prepared to rain death and destruction onto his headquarters. Phillips was ushered into the stone building where Admiral Sir Peter Parker had his shore offices. He had no time for niceties, and demanded to know the status of the frigate. Phillips took him through the capture of the ship, and the disposition of the mutineers. He explained that while he had two hundred soldiers aboard the ship, none were sailors, and he needed to use at least some of the crew to get the frigate to sea. He explained how they had been fired upon by a nearby liner, and he had felt it necessary to get to sea before the firing became general.
He explained how all ship’s crew, from the ship’s boys to the highest ranking officer on board at the time, the Sailing Master, had been interrogated by his officers, with their answers written down. He had separated the active firebrands in the crew, and placed them in irons on the orlop. Many of the men, whose main crime had been to go along with the mutiny since they did not know what else to do, he put to duty about ship. On the cruise to Plymouth, the crew had settled down wonderfully, and he would trust them on a long ocean voyage.
“Admiral Parker, I most respectfully submit the cause of the mutiny was the treatment inflicted upon the seamen by their officers. I realize mutiny cannot be excused, but we have to understand many of the men have very simple minds, and knew not what else to do.”
“Captain, what would you have the Navy do, issue tea and cookies to the men when hammocks are piped below?”
“Sir, the Royal Navy is a hard service, no doubt about it. But, in my limited time at sea, I have found it worth my while to show whatever temperance possible to the men. Of course, if a man deliberately shows disrespect to his officers and his fellows, then he must expect whatever pain he has earned. But, a man doing his duty should not expect to be whipped for it.”
“These ringleaders, Phillips, you say you have them in chains? How many”
“Sir, I have twenty five I am sure of. Each one had at least two other seaman give evidence against him. I have a few more about ship I am not sure about. The evidence against them may be tainted by personal animosities.”
Parker let out a quarterdeck bellow, and a harried aide appeared. “Jackson, see the Marine captain, whatever his name is. He is to board HMS Jason, and retrieve the mutineers chained in the orlop, and bring them ashore.”
“Just send the twenty five you are sure about. Keep an eye on the others. Right. Now then Captain, how would you judge the loyalty of the remaining crew members?”
“Sir, that is hard to say. All we have to work on is what others say about them. I was surprised about what the Gunner had to say about his former officers. He said he had heard inklings of the mutiny, but had not reported them. I asked him if he heard of another such, would he report it to me?”
“He replied that he disliked bringing a man to a rope over something that he heard.”
“Captain Phillips, that is enough for me. He will be off your ship this afternoon. I am going to send a draft of men out to you. These will be from other ships in the harbor. You will replace any possible ne’er do wells with this fresh blood. Now, when will you be ready to sail?”
“Admiral Parker, at the moment, we have almost no stores on board. The ship had just landed much of its stores ashore, in preparation to re-stowing, when the mutiny happened. That remaining has been looted and damaged. We need the ship re-supplied before a long voyage.”
The Admiral was poring over the papers Phillips had brought ashore, especially the order signed by the Prime Minister. “You know Phillips, my budget is strained, whatever you might think, but these orders would seem to give us authority to do most anything we chose. What think you?”
CHAPTER THREE
With orders from the Port Admiral to get his ship ready for sea, the yard hands began to jump about. The mutineers had long since been marched off in manacles, and a new draft of men had been found, some of whom even seemed to be seamen. At intervals, as liners came into port, small detachments of their men were drafted and sent to HMS Jason, with an equal number replaced by the Jason’s men. By the time the ship was ready to sail, many of her crew had been replaced. His new first officer, Lieutenant Crawford wondered that Parker was not afraid of the news of mutiny becoming prevalent in the fleet. Phillips pointed to the freshly tarred bodies of the former mutineers twisting in the sea breeze from their gibbets. “They will receive news of that too, Mister Crawford.” indicating the new structures that had been erected along the hi
gh tide mark to accommodate all the new customers.
Phillips had wished to go to his nearby home in Essex to visit Sarah and the children, but his duties just would not permit this.
He requested Sarah visit him, but he received a rather cold letter in reply, saying she could not possibly leave her babies, and only a heartless person would insist on them making the trip. She then added, it was time he gave up his Royal Navy, and returned home to run his estate, any other responsible husband and father would do so.
Not knowing what he should write in reply to that missive, he did not; rolling the sheet into a spill, and using it to light the candles on his desk. He worked into the night on the ship’s papers, having no clerk or purser. One spot of cheer was the boy Thomas. He had repeatedly offered to send the boy back to the house in London on the mail coach, but the boy demurred, always finding an excuse to stay. The lad always seemed to find something worthwhile to do, and was usually successful in doing the work properly.
The boy had been semi-adopted by a new member of the crew, a man foisted on them by the captain of a third rate as one of a levy. This man was small and frail, with no apparent nautical skills aboard ship. He was no seaman, nor was he strong enough to do the brute labor inflicted upon the landsmen. It turned out, what he was, was a failed cleric. The man had received the education to become a Church of England priest. Unfortunately, the only living he could find did not pay enough to keep body and soul together. He had tried to secure an appointment as a chaplain. When that did not happen, he had taken the bounty offered by a party of the Impressment Service, and now was a member of the Royal Navy until such time as the war ended. The boy, with his well-known attachment to the captain was able to get the man spared from some of the most difficult duties. In return, the man undertook to teach Thomas his letters.
The only place the two could do this in some privacy was in the captain’s store room, using that worthy’s ink, paper and quills. Phillips went there one evening to retrieve some paper, when he saw light gleaming through the cracks around the door. He caught them in the act. Gibbering in fear, the instructor nearly fainted, but Thomas stood as straight as he could in the tiny space and explained the Reverend Harkins was merely preparing him so he could serve his master better.
Picking up the paper Thomas had been copying, Phillips was struck by the improvement in the boy’s penmanship. The thought struck him that he could use the boy as his clerk, but then another came to mind. He ordered the two into his cabin, and had them to sit. He picked up a paper he had been studying, when he left to enter the storeroom. This was part of the evicted purser’s paperwork, and he could not make head or tails of it. The handwriting was illegible in some places, and some of the entries were nonsense.
“Landsman Harkins, what do you make of this?”
The man looked at the mess, and asked. “If I might have pen and paper, Sir?”
Thomas ran back into the storeroom, and retrieved the necessary articles. Then Harkins began attempting to transcribe the paper. When he finished, he handed the paper to his captain. “Sir, I did my best, but some of the text was simply illegible, and the figures did not add up. However, this is what I have come up with.”
His handwriting was beautiful copperplate, and perfectly legible. There were empty spaces in the text where the dismissed purser had scribbled nonsense. There were neat columns of figures with two results. One consisted of the often erroneous figures of the purser. The others were the actual correct sums.
Phillips was nonplussed by this prodigy. What to do with him?
Evading the question for a moment, Phillips asked, “Harkins, who is your division officer?”
“Mister Halloway, Sir.”
Raising his voice, he yelled out, “Sentry, pass the word for Midshipman Halloway.”
A few minutes later they all heard someone run to the cabin door. The sentry slammed his musket butt to the deck, and announced “Mister Halloway, Sah.”
The visibly nervous Halloway approached, his hat held at his side. His jacket was buttoned awry, as if he had donned it in a hurry. Phillips eyed the petty officer. He appeared to be in his late teens, and might be standing in front of his board soon. He did not know the lad, since he had just joined the ship in the last few days. He did remember the lad had completed cruises in two previous ships, so presumably knew the bowsprit from a clove hitch.
Pointing to Harkins standing beside Thomas, he asked, “Is this man in your division, Mister Halloway?”
“Yes sir, he is one of the landsmen.”
“I am transferring him, Mister Halloway. He will be attached to me. Would you please let Lieutenants Anderson and Crawford know? The transfer is effective immediately.”
Phillips now turned to Thomas. Young man, since you arrived here, I have offered several times to pay your fare to London. I will further offer you a position in my home as long as you wish. Last chance, I will not ask you again.”
“Sir, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to stay on the ship, if I could. The men are teaching me a lot.”
“Thomas, you may stay. How would you like to be rated a midshipman?”
“Why, I’d like it main well, Captain.”
“Consider it done then. Report to the first officer and tell him of your new change. Remind me of your last name. I can’t recall it.”
“Sir, I was a foundling, Somebody said the name Lynch was pinned to my blanket, but I never really knew.”
“Very well, Tom Lynch will go on the books. Go along now.”
Phillips turned to Harkins as Tom left. “Now then, sir, what are we to do with you? Your talents are wasted hauling on a rope. I’ll tell you what I need. First of all I need a clerk, someone to tend to my correspondence. I also need a purser, and am not likely to get one at this late date. Then, I need someone to stuff some education in my younger midshipmen’s heads. I can appoint you my clerk, and ship’s schoolmaster as far as that goes. To be a purser, you need a warrant, and to get that, you need to post bond. What I can do is make you my clerk. That will get you out of the clutches of every petty officer that comes along.”
“Additionally, I will appoint you ship’s schoolmaster. Every student will be required to pay you a minor sum. Finally, since we have no purser now, and are unlikely to get one, I will appoint you temporary, acting purser. Now, if a real one comes posting down from London, waving a warrant, you will lose your job. However, until that happens, I will advance you the money to purchase your stores. If you can’t make a profit off the articles you will sell to the crew, it will be most unusual. You will need to spend much time in my quarters, getting my papers in order. While there, we can get our heads together and see if we can learn what you will need to know as purser. I have been trying to master that occupation since I took command, and may have learned a bit.
A few days after the previous Gunner had been escorted ashore by a file of Marines, the new Master Gunner came aboard. He came in a heavily laden launch, the cargo covered in sail cloth. Phillips was impressed with Gunner Wilson. They discussed the mutiny in the privacy of his office, and Phillips was satisfied with his answers. Wilson assured him he would have no difficulty with informing him of any anomalies that might point toward mutiny.
“Tell me, Gunner, what is it you have under that sailcloth in the launch?
“Sir, I have spent the past two years working with the Army Ordnance people in their warehouse ashore. We had a pile of swivel guns in the way. They were going to be sent to the foundry to be recast. It was my thought that an active captain like yourself might have a better use for them.”
“Let’s go out and look at them.”
There were a dozen of them. They were little iron guns, with a bore about one and a half inches in diameter. They could be mounted around the exterior of the ship, or up in the fighting tops. In addition to small iron balls, they could also fire bags of half inch diameter pistol balls. All in all, they appeared to be thoroughly dangerous close range weapons.
&
nbsp; Phillips mused, “Mister Wilson, I have one concern about these swivels. If some ill-intentioned crew member wished, it would be easy for a few people to take over one or two of these and take out everyone on the quarterdeck very rapidly.”
“Sir, I can understand why you would think that way. If you wanted, I could secretly disable the swivels so they wouldn’t fire.”
“Just how would do that, Mister Wilson?”
“I’d whittle out some tight fitting wooden plugs and drive ‘em down the touchholes. I’d do it on the sly, so nobody saw me do it.”
“If we subsequently went into action, how would you fire the guns?”
“Either drive the plugs the rest of the way into the bore, or just drill a hole in the plug. The first shot would blow the remains of the plug out.”
It was a month before the ship was ready to sail. The envoy and his staff had posted down from London, and Phillips gave up his day cabin. The carpenter divided it for the new people. With no further word from Sarah, in the final days before departure, he took up his pen and wrote a long letter to his wife, telling her how important she and their babies were to him. He told her he felt his duty impelled him to continue to defend the kingdom, but the war could not last forever. And, he asked her to remember the intervals in his service they had already experienced, time they had been able to spend together. He promised Sarah, he would try to keep her apprised of his whereabouts and actions, but she must remember he might be at sea months at a time, and of course she would not receive his mail for those same months. He reminded her of the circumstances where they had met. He asked her to remember the thousands of Republican soldiers encamped around Boulogne. Should French Republican forces ever defeat the Royal Navy defending the shores, and invade Britain, as their General Bonaparte had every intention of doing, the same terror she had known in France, would certainly be visited upon England.
Frigates of War: A John Phillips Novel Page 3