Fully re-supplied, the Jason set sail. She had lost two men who had run from a watering party, but gained five more. These were a band of Blacks who approached one of his officers on the shore. They were runaway slaves, originally captured from a tribe a long distance to the north. These men had seen some of the ship’s Black crew members ashore. They wished to leave the colony and wondered if the ship needed more men. They were, not of course seamen, but two could speak English a little, and of course they could all be trained to do normal landsman duties. More importantly, they were willing, which was sometimes a rare trait on a King’s ship. All in all, Phillips thought he had done well with the exchange.
Sailing north up the western coast, just out of sight of land, he was in his quarters, now expanded by the departure of the envoy, when he heard the lookout report debris in the water. Investigation showed a few partially burned ships’ timbers. No sign of people in boats or the water appeared, and the Jason continued north. The next lookout report proved to be an American schooner, loaded with cheap trinkets meant for the slave trade, the ship was now bound for Simon’s Bay to resupply its stores. The captain reported being stopped and searched by a French corvette. The corvette had relieved them of a large amount of food, food that had been meant to feed a hold full of slaves.
Asked where he thought the corvette might be bound, the master said his mate, who knew a little French, had heard some of the crew talking, and he thought they were bound for Guadeloupe. “Maybe”, mused the ship’s master, “he is wrong, but if that pirate needs supplies, and perhaps men, he might do better there than try to reach France, what with your blockade, and all your ships at sea”
CHAPTER SIX
HMS Jason proceeded up the African coast until she encountered the westerly trades north of the Line. Phillips was of two minds about whether he should continue pursuing the French corvette, or simply return to Britain. After all, he had fulfilled his Admiralty orders, and few superiors back home would criticize his actions. Moreover, his chances of meeting the privateer were infinitely small, and the longer he pursued this ship was time not spent doing the King’s duty defending his homeland. However, he was covered by the orders of Governor Lord Mccartney. He resolved to sail westward to Antigua to pass on the information about the privateer. He reasoned the governor there should have resources to prosecute a search for the intruder. Having done this, he felt he would then be free to depart for home.
The voyage west was without incident; the lookouts sighting no ships, friendly or enemy, until reaching Caribbean waters. In late December, with the hurricane season safely over, and HMS Jason approaching Antigua, the lookout spotted a British snow-brig. She was directly down wind, and the heavily laden merchant had no chance to evade the frigate. She meekly backed her topsails and awaited the warship.
Jason still had an adequate crew, and Phillips saw no need to press men from the snow, so he just spoke the ‘Faith Atkins’ out of Liverpool, asking for news. The master of the merchant was so happy that he was not losing a sizeable fraction of his crew that he managed to transmit all the gossip of the Caribbean over the next glass. A half hour listening to the man was all Phillips wanted to spend, so when Jason’s bell chimed three times in the morning watch, indicating it was now half past nine, he bid the Faith Atkin’s master good-bye, and departed.
English Harbor, Antigua, was jammed with shipping, the more prominent being a third rate flying the broad pennant of a commodore. However, the flag of a vice-admiral of the white flew over government house. He displayed his number and ordered a salute fired to the Commander-in Chief; Rear Admiral Henry Harvey, which was duly returned. An hour later, a well turned out lieutenant appeared at the entry port, identifying himself as Admiral Harvey’s flag lieutenant; wondering what the devil a Channel Fleet frigate was doing in English Harbor. Phillips was not about to explain his actions to a lieutenant; instead asking to see the Admiral, and promising to produce his report, then.
Next afternoon, with his barge crew polished and shined, Phillips was transported to Government House, where he met the Admiral. Handing over his written report to the clerk, he gave a verbal one to Harvey, telling of his completed mission delivering the envoy to Cape Colony, and then the added mission to pursue the French privateer. Advising the Admiral he suspected that corvette had gone to ground in Guadeloupe; he wondered what his next actions should be.
“Captain, there is nothing I would like better than to take you and your frigate under my command, and search out some of these fellows. However, that is not my prerogative. You are under Admiralty orders, and it is your duty to report there and inform them of your actions. I will take your report under advisement, and will caution my captains to be observant. Now, is there anything I can do for you or your ship before your departure?
Phillips thought this would be a good place to rid himself of the remainder of his mutineers, still in irons in the orlop. The Commodore back in Port Simon had refused to take them, advising it might be months before he had enough captains to convene a court martial. Admiral Harvey was very happy to take the men from his hands. He felt a good hanging was just the thing to buck up his people’s spirits.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Well on her way, Jason was making good time on her way home, when a sail was sighted. This was not unusual, the area of the Caribbean being well populated with sail. However this one had her number hoisted, and proved to be a dispatch lugger, ordinarily utilized to carry messages and men between ships and islands. Jason made her number, and hove to. The young lieutenant commanding was rowed over and introduced himself. He had a message from the captain of Roebuck onboard. He also carried a captured mutineer from the sloop Marie Antoinette. He had a passenger, too; the midshipman grandson of Admiral Harvey.
Reading the message from the Roebuck, Phillips learned about the mutiny for the first time. Captain Morton of the lugger ‘Cricket’ informed him the prisoner had been foisted upon him to return to English Harbor, but he really did not have the facilities to restrain and guard him. Could the Jason take him? And perhaps the passenger, too? Cricket wished to search for the missing sloop, HMS Marie Antoinette.
With the prisoner in irons on the orlop deck, Phillips had to determine where to deliver him. Since the crime had been committed in the Caribbean, he really should deliver him to English Harbor. However, it was a long way out of their route, and so he decided to continue on to England. Morton of that lugger was really going to find his arse in a sling for giving away their star prisoner, but that was no concern of Phillips. No doubt the boy’s grandfather would be sorry to have missed the boy also, but the woes of a newly midshipman were not of importance to Phillips. He was sure there would be an empty gibbet at the Nore when they arrived, reserved for the prisoner. First though, it might be worthwhile to look into the port of Gonaives, to see what had happened to the Marie Antoinette. At the first opportunity, he had asked both the seaman prisoner and Midshipman Onsley what port they had sailed from. The seaman had listened to this question before, and remained mute. However, the mid had not been questioned and readily answered, Gonaives.
She was there, though in dreadful condition. Her masts were still upright, and her yards crossed, but the standing rigging was slack, and only a miracle could have prevented everything going over the side. When the Jason closed the shore, the beach began boiling with angry humanity. A small battery was present, although no attempt was made to man it. A few muskets were fired from shore, far out of range. Apparently the original populace of the town had been displaced, replaced with angry former slaves.
In a meeting with the Marine lieutenant, the first officer, bosun, and sail maker; a plan was developed. The ship would proceed out to sea, out of sight of land. Later, the wind serving, they would return in the dark. Hands would deploy as silently as possible into the boats, which would proceed to the schooners mooring. The bosun would immediately begin tightening up what standing rigging he could so they could try to get sail on her. While this was going on
, the ship’s Marines would go on shore to take the battery and disable the guns in it. A dark lantern would be opened as a signal when that was successful. Now, the Jason would sail into the bay, as close to the moored schooner as could be, with a cable passed out a stern port. They would attempt to pass the cable to the brig, and tow her out. Meantime, whatever canvas there was aboard the schooner would be loosed. Should there be none available, the sail maker would have a selection in the boat’s bottoms.
All went well. The people ashore were asleep, with no one keeping a watch. Had they not just frightened that white devil manned ship away in terror? These were not the original townsfolk. Those had mostly ran away or been slaughtered. The present population was freed slaves, looking for food, weapons, women and shelter. The Marines were the first to reach their objective. The previous tenants of the battery had removed the guns from their embrasures; and remounted them facing inland. There they remained, as they had been left when the last French soldat (soldier) died. The Marine sergeant went around to each of the guns hammering a hardened steel spike into each touchhole, the rapping sound of the hammering now attracting an increasing gathering of the locals. At first, the brandished bayonets kept them away, but when the final spike was broken off, the Marines gladly boarded the launches in a rush, and backed water. By the time somebody on shore remembered to fetch a musket, they were out of effective range. A Marine corporal entrusted with the dark lantern, remembered his instructions at the last minute, even remembering the thwart he had earlier thrust the lantern under. Luckily the light inside was still lit, so he furtively showed the opened port of the lantern over the side of the boat. The sergeant who had disabled the guns reckoned they would never be fired again. The spikes he had driven into the touchholes were as hard as any drill likely to be used to remove them, and he doubted whether there were tools and expertise of how to remove them locally.
Aboard the Marie Antoinette, matters had not gone so smoothly. About twenty civilians of various genders and ages had taken up quarters on the brig, and they were being noisy. The boarders ran most of them below, men, women and children, to keep them out of the way. A few swimmers went over the side. Seamen were scrambling in the rigging, making such repairs as they went, while a party went to the sail locker to see what they could find. Bundles of mouldering canvas were toted above decks and bent on. The sail maker, knowing this rotten material was liable to split as soon as it caught the first breeze, was frantically trying to make a new fore staysail that might take them out. The populace ashore was now awakened and aroused. Other than a few random musket shots, they were in no real danger, but there seemed to be thousands of angry people on shore, many armed with machetes. A concern was that some might find boats to come aboard. There was only a light offshore breeze, but as soon as that staysail was raised, and the cable cut, the brig started to move to sea, almost running aboard the Jason which had been trying to maneuver to deliver its cable.
HMS Jason still had the old jolly boat towing behind. With quite a collection of local civilians aboard now, he allowed all that wanted to leave to drop down into the boat. Remarkably, a few, including a woman, wished to stay behind and become Royal Navy sailors!
The next morning saw the Jason and her prize well out to sea. The bosun had repairs well under hand aboard Marie Antoinette, and seamen, under command of her new Captain, Lieutenant Crawford, were sanding the accumulated filth of the last year from her decks. The question of whether or not to return to English harbor was answered though. What provisions remained on board the Marie Antoinette were spoiled. All the beef and pork casks had been opened, and Phillips smelling the remnants, would not have fed the material to a pig. It was now a necessity to return to Antigua.
The men had hardly recovered from the excitement when a sail was reported from the masthead, then another. The reports soon had both vessels ship rigged, and proceeding on the same course as themselves. As the watch changed, Phillips noticed the lookout who had just descended report to the deck officer. Both came to the quarterdeck, where the lieutenant doffed his hat in salute, and the seaman knuckled his brow.
“Sir”, reported the officer, “Hudson here thinks those ships up ahead are French.”
“What makes you think that, Hudson?”
“Well Sir, I guess by the way her sails are cut. They don’t look like any British ships I have seen. My last ship chased a corvette for most of a day. Her sails were cut like both of these ships.”
“Do you think these may be warships, Hudson?”
“If I were a betting man Sir, I’d put money on it. I think the forward one is a corvette, and the one behind is a frigate.”
“Good report, Hudson.” Turning to the deck officer he said, “Mister Anderson, would you ensure that Hudson here is issued an extra tot?”
As the day wore on, it was obvious Jason was overtaking the ships. As they neared, a flurry of flag signals appeared on the pair and they wore around, heading now toward the Jason and her prize, again the corvette in the lead. Phillips almost ordered the helm put over. While to the enemy, the frigate and schooner-sloop probably appeared a worthy opponent, the pair of warships clearly had him outnumbered. In a fight, the Marie Antoinette counted for nothing. She had not a single gun left on board. Every one of her four pounders had been left disabled at the French battery. However, he thought he had the legs on both of the enemy, and decided to continue the approach for a bit longer. The prize, with new canvas being installed as fast as it could be fitted, was now showing a remarkable wake, even allowing for the weed growth on her bottom. In an aside to Mister Anderson, who in the absence of Crawford was now first officer, he said, “Mister Anderson, I’d be obliged if you would clear the ship for action.”
The ships approaching, Phillips noticed a curiosity. Whenever the enemy signaled, which was becoming quite frequent now, he observed it was always the corvette that initiated the signal, while the frigate signaled a curt reply. It almost seemed as if the officer commanding the corvette was commanding the squadron, but how could a corvette captain give orders to a frigate captain? Perhaps the frigate captain had died or was disabled?
The ships nearing, Phillips noticed the frigate taking in sail, allowing the corvette to pull farther ahead. Phillips began to suspect that something was not right. His previous intention to abandon his approach evaporated and he took a quick tour of his guns. To each midshipman, commanding a section of guns, he gave his orders. “When an enemy appears in a gun’s sight, I want that gun to fire. I would rather see the guns fire individually and get all hits, than fire simultaneously and have half the balls miss. Do not fire, unless the gun can reach its target.”
To his first officer, he said, “Mister Anderson, I believe the frigate is hanging back a little, as if his heart just isn’t in this confrontation. We will meet the corvette first, and I intend to meet her broadside to broadside, and put her out of action immediately. By the time we are up to the frigate, I expect we will have reloaded our guns, and we will handle him severely. Have you any observations, sir?”
As the Jason’s port bow overlapped the bow of the corvette, her individual guns began going off, and Phillips immediately saw hits on the corvette. It appeared the corvette was an eighteen gun ship, armed with the French ‘huit’ (eight) pound guns. The enemy’s gun crews appeared to be un-nerved, since instead of replying with single guns, as they bore on their target, fully half of her broadside fired at once, most balls going off into the blue. One ball only hit the Jason.
With only four of her eight pounder guns left loaded on that side, the corvette was in an embarrassing situation. She had nine guns a side, nearly the same caliber of a British nine pounder. The Jason fired eighteen pounders, and there indeed eighteen of them on a side. When those guns finished firing, the corvette was a wreck. She had lost her fore and main masts, and her port side was beaten in. With scantlings as flimsy as hers, she had no business taking on a ship like the Jason.
The corvette obviously finished, Phillips l
ooked for the frigate. That vessel had tacked, and was now retreating from the field as fast as she could.
Phillips called his first officer over. “What is our status, Mister Anderson?”
“Sir, we only took a few shots aboard. We suffered no obvious damage. Sir, I think that frigate is a transport, armed ‘en flute’. I think she has few guns aboard.”
A ship ‘en flute’, with empty gun ports, reminded one of a musical instrument, like a flute. Such a ship however, offered little danger to the Jason.
“Well, let us go after her. She may not have many guns, but if she has soldiers, they may well be firing volleys at us, so we had better be aware. After we fire off the loads now in the guns, we had better re-load with grape.”
“Sir, did you catch the name on the counter of the corvette as we passed her? It was ‘Helene’.”
“So, it looks as though we fulfilled our orders after all. I suspect the Helene after reporting into Guadeloupe, was ordered to escort the frigate to her destination.”
The Jason rapidly overhauled the transport, if that was what she was. Finally, seeing the writing on the wall, the frigate hauled down her flag, and let fly her sheets. With her wallowing in the sea, Phillips put the Jason athwart her hawse. Loading the ship’s Marines into the launch, he sent them to board the frigate, the boat crew to return forthwith to pick up another load of seamen.
It soon was evident there were no soldiers aboard the frigate. She had spent too much time in harbor, her bottom growing weed, and her crew succumbing to fever. Being unable to fight; most of her guns were removed to arm privateers. Finally, with the appearance of ‘Helene’, she had been sent under escort to see if she could procure soldiers at another of the French islands.
Frigates of War: A John Phillips Novel Page 5