Frigates of War: A John Phillips Novel

by Richard Testrake

  The Danish guns on the starboard side made good practice, sending a few balls aboard with the first salvo. Some gear was shot away and fell into the overhead netting, while their own guns thundered away. Since leaving harbor back home, Mister Prescott had been drilling the ship’s crew unmercifully on the guns. The crew had originally come from several ships at the Nore. Not all captains were as avid at gun drill as was Phillips. It was true, most attempted to fire as rapidly as possibly but many had the notion it was only necessary to lay the ship alongside the enemy, and fire as rapidly as possible. At the moment they were a mile off Amager; both ship and battery surrounded by powder smoke.

  Previous practice with privately purchased powder and shot gave HMS Stag an advantage in this bombardment. A cheer went up as a ball hit a Danish gun and sent it careening through its crew. The last gun fired, the ship was free to enter the Baltic.

  Next forenoon, she was out of sight of land when Phillips, in his quarters, heard the hail for sail in sight. He went onto the quarterdeck, where he could hear and see everything first hand. Mister Horton, the second officer was deck officer at the moment, so he called him over, and asked what was about. Horton, advised the lookout had first spotted sail for one small craft, then several more. “Now, it looks like there is a gaggle of them. I sent Lynch up with a glass to see what he could make of them.”

  Soon, Lynch, sliding down a backstay, reported breathlessly to the quarterdeck. “Sir, looks like nine or ten of them. I know it sounds crazy, but one of them looks like he is flying a broad pennant. They look almost like the gunboats I saw back at the Nore.”

  Curious now, Phillips decided to stay on deck to see what might develop. Standing at the helm nattering with the master, Mister Hancock, he was alerted when Prescott came over with a proffered glass. “They seem to be up to something, Sir.” The sailing craft seemed to have dropped their lugsails, and gone to oars. First, they formed line abreast, coming straight at the frigate’s bow. Then, in succession, they altered, coming to line ahead, each craft directly in line with the one ahead or astern. Finally, there seemed to be momentary pandemonium, as the formation broke up and reformed. There were now three V’s, shaped in the points of a triangle, with a single gunboat at the front of the formation, flying a broad pennant.

  Turning to Lieutenant Prescott, Phillips said, “Just to keep these fellows honest, let us bring the ship to quarters.”

  Immediately, the milling spectators on deck went to their own tasks. As the leading ‘v’’, and its commander neared the frigate’s bow, the two trailers peeled off, one on either side and reformed at Stag’s stern. As the gunboats maneuvered, Phillips ordered a carronade fired, and then altered course so one broadside was facing each formation of gunboats. A flag signal from the pennant’s masthead brought the boat show to a halt, as their crews rested on their oars.

  The pennant boat stopped in position, and lowered a small boat. A crew tumbled aboard, and hoisted a white flag. Through his glass, he saw an officer wearing a uniform reminding him of that of a Commander in the Royal Navy. A nod to Prescott got a side party organized, and he waited by the starboard entry port until the boat hooked on, and its passenger clambered aboard. As soon as the salutes and formalities were over, Phillips invited the officer into his quarters. Peabody was waiting with an assortment of bottles, and some dishes of nuts on the table. First off, Phillips spoke of his complete inability to speak any Norse language. Adam Hansen saved the day with the demonstration his mastery of the English language as spoken in the region of Liverpool. He confessed to a mother from that area who had married a Danish trader. Adam had been brought up as an Englishman, even serving a few years in the Royal Navy as a midshipman. However, on the advent of Bonaparte, the trader had taken his family back to Copenhagen, where the son resumed his naval career in the Danish Navy. It seemed the Danish officer was incensed by the refusal of the Royal Navy to allow the midshipman to be promoted above that rank. The Danes however, had no problem promoting the young man to first, lieutenant, then to commander, and put to the command of a squadron of Baltic gunboats.

  Phillips listened to the Commander loudly expressing his displeasure with Great Britain, and its Navy, while lauding the Nordic seagoing tradition. The contents of the bottle in front of the young man, was rapidly dropping. Phillips had just reached for the little bell that would summon Peabody, when young Hansen slammed his glass down, and demanded what Stag was doing in Nordic waters.

  Phillips tried to explain to the Commander that his mission was twofold: To ensure the safety of British trading vessels, and to determine from the various nations of the Baltic region the current status of the neutrality agreements previously agreed upon. Before he had finished his speech, the Commander had dropped in his chair, unconscious.

  Just as the seamen of Stag were used to the handling of drunken naval officers, so were those of the Danish Naval Service capable of the reception and stowing of such officers. They removed the lashings holding Commander Hansen to the carrying board. The coxswain of the craft held it up to the crew of Stag, to see if they wanted the board back. The Stag’s bosun indicated they should keep it, and the gunboat’s bowman shoved off. The oarsmen began their work, and the boat was on its way back to its squadron.

  On board Stag, Phillips and his first officer held a critique of the day’s happenings. Both were curious of the Nordic gunboats. Prescott admired the precision of the boats’ oarsmen in the rough Baltic Sea waters, but wondered about the big eighteen pounder gun’s mounting. It appeared to be fixed in the craft’s stern, with the muzzle protruding out over the rudder. There seemed no provision for recoil. Phillips guessed the boat being so long, thin, and with such a shallow draft, the whole boat was designed to recoil at the weapon’s discharge. Neither wished to spend many hours in one of the boats during the typical rough sea conditions of the early Baltic spring. Thinking about the damage an ill-intentioned small boat squadron could do to a becalmed frigate, Phillips called in his gunner and asked him if he had examined the swivel guns recently brought aboard.

  Master Gunner Fletcher had indeed been curious and had inspected the weapons. He reported, while the guns were serviceable, they had been stored under improper conditions and were rusty. In addition, their touchholes had been blocked, and he would hesitate to fire the weapons until he knew the reason why.

  Phillips chuckled, and related the story of the weapons, and explained the blocked touchholes. He ordered the gunner to begin mounting the swivels around the ship, most especially in the bow and stern, which the great guns did not cover well. He thought the swivels might well save them some trouble in the future.

  The gunner wondered, “Sir, what about ammunition? I could make up some bagged powder charges, but what about ball? We have nothing to fit these guns.”

  Phillips advised, “Find someone on board with a bullet mould for a pistol. Set up the forge on deck and melt down some lead, and cast that into balls. Put some mids on that job, just make sure they don’t set the ship on fire. You can get sheet lead from the carpenter. He uses it to plug shot holes. Have the sailmaker make up some bags for you to hold the shot. Better get the mids going now on the casting. I imagine it will take quite a while to cast the number we will need.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  21 March 1801

  Cruising eastward at the southern end of the Baltic, the Stag’s lookout spotted a fat brig flying the British flag coming toward them. Stag showed her the flag, and fired off a gun. Phillips rather expected her to make a run for it. Not many traders would wish to risk having a large percentage of their crew pressed at this time into a British warship in this part of the world. However, the brig sailed right up to them, and the master invited Phillips over for a drink. Taking the man up on his offer, Phillips heard the brig had sailed through a huge British fleet off Copenhagen, and had been advised to make himself scarce.

  According to the trader’s captain, there were nearly twenty liners in the fleet, as well as numerous smaller fry. P
hillips left the brig’s captain with a dozen bottles of claret he had brought with him, and Stag set course for Copenhagen. The ship had not yet come within sight of the city, when their old friend, Commander Hansen and his gunboat fleet appeared before their bow. On general principals, Phillips ordered the ship cleared for action. By the time this evolution had been accomplished, the boats were upon them.

  As when they had first met, the leading ‘V’ and it accompanying leader took up station on their bow, while the remainder split going around the frigate and reformed on each quarter. Phillips felt a bit queer letting those boats past his broadside without firing, suspecting he would soon be receiving fire from them. With the whole group heading for Copenhagen, the master’s mate he had stationed in the bows to keep an eye on the boats ahead sent a midshipman rushing aft.

  “Sir, Mister Roberts up forward thinks at least one of those boats up ahead is preparing her gun to fire.”

  Phillips ran forward on the gangway, a telescope in his hand. That rearmost boat was several cables forward, but he could see the slowmatch smoking in its tub. The boat was a bit to starboard, but the muzzle of the stern-mounted gun was pointed right at them. A glance at the boat to port showed its gun also pointed at them.

  A run aft, showed the boats ahead had dowsed their lugsails and deployed their oars. Their crews were straining to overtake the frigate. While Phillips watched, they started their turn. Knowing their rear mounted guns would be trained on the Stag in a few more minutes. Mr. Hancock, the master, was standing by the wheel, his station at quarters.

  “Mister Hancock, I believe those gunboats will try to rake us soon. I want you to take the ship and bring us to starboard. That will take us from the field of fire of some of their guns, and will give us a chance to fire at some of them. I want you to handle the ship now, while I command the guns.”

  As Hancock began giving helm and sail orders, Phillips was briefing Mister Prescott. “We will be turning to starboard in a moment. As soon as our guns begin to bear on those boats, I want to open fire, both at the boats forward, and aft. They have eighteen pounders in the stern of those boats, and I would prefer not to be raked by them.”

  As the ship began its turn, the first guns began to fire from the gunboats. Their practice was not good, with the field of fire limited, and the high seas trying to push the boat’s stern away. One boat, having fired its gun, found itself near the course of the Stag. Mister Hancock had a word to one of the men at the wheel, and the Stag moved a few compass points toward the boat. Guns aboard Stag began pounding out their fire, and this boat managed to avoid serious damage, at least ‘till HMS Stag closed her. The coxswain of the boat managed to turn the boat in its own length, but Stag came alongside and ground down the length of the boat, smashing oars and injuring oarsmen. As the boats ground past each other, men at the rear carronades grabbed 36 pound balls and began tossing them down into the boat. The first ball smashed the leg of one of the oarsmen, but did no significant damage to the boats itself.

  The second ball however, went right through the bottom. Other boats, both ahead and astern, were being hammered by the guns on both broadsides. Before clearing the area, Phillips ordered the reloads be done with grapeshot. The guns behaving like enormous shotguns, horrible damage was done to the men and hulls of the gunboats. The swivels began banging off their loads of first pistol ball, then when that ran out, sacks of musket balls.

  With barely a boat left without some sort of damage including several either awash or sunk, Phillips decided to leave the area, and attempt to locate the British fleet. Stag had received damage, too. Two eighteen pound balls had come aboard. One, fired from its low position, had penetrated the hull low down near the water line, and ranged upward, coming up through the deck on the opposite side of the ship, showering two gun crews with splinters. The guns themselves were unharmed, but five men were sent groaning to the surgeon. Another ball came through the stern, narrowly missing the stern post. It took a bite from the lower mizzen mast, then deflected slightly, ranged forward and upward, coming through the deck near a forward carronade. The guns slide was wrecked, and the gun‘s barrel sent flying. Three men were mangled so badly, they were not sent below. Swift mallet blows to the skull put them to sleep, and then they were passed out a gun port into the sea.

  This action had taken place early in the day, and it was late afternoon before they found the fleet. The lookout spotted the HMS Elephant, now flying Nelson’s flag. Phillips had composed a short flag signal telling of the recent action, and sent it. A signal soon flew, requesting Stag’s captain to come aboard.

  Admiral Nelson greeted Phillips with the utmost courtesy, and listened to his report of the Danish gun boat fleet with gravity. “But”, he asked, “You have handled the boats you met very severely, I think?”

  “Yes Sir, once we broke their formation, they were much easier to defeat. We took aboard some swivel guns before leaving port last month, and they seemed to be the deciding factor. One of our gunners, a Marine, was able to eliminate half the oarsmen on a boat, every time he fired. One shot from him would eliminate a gunboat’s effectiveness.”

  “That is good news, Captain Phillips. I will advise all my captains to utilize what swivel guns they have in the event of a fight. For now, I will be sending you back to Britain with our respective reports at this time. You will set your course for London, rather than Great Yarmouth. Tell me Captain, how did your crew work out?”

  Phillips had to think a moment before he realized what the Admiral was talking about. “Sir, the men behaved very well; just like any other crew I have sailed with. There were no incidents at all. I’ll say again, they behaved superbly, just as one would expect a British crew to behave.”

  “Captain, I am delighted. No one knows better than I how difficult it is to recruit and train good seamen. The thought of executing them by the hundred repels me.”

  “Yes Sir, as it does me, also. Yet, we have officers in the fleet who would treat these highly skilled men like so many animals.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The Pool of London was crammed with shipping. Both Phillips and Hancock were glad to put the ship in the hands of the pilot. The pilot recommended he go to his quarters, assuring him the ship would be brought to its berth safely. Phillips, of course, knew better. Should his frigate so much as scrape a little paint from the wrong ship, and he was not on the quarterdeck, his career would be at an end. However, the pilot brought the ship to its mooring, and a kedge was deployed to reduce any unwanted swing. Phillips had just paid off the pilot when he heard a childish voice piping from over the side. “Letter for Cap’n Phillips.”

  The midshipman of the watch went to investigate, and returned. “Captain, there’s two children in a boat alongside. One says he has a note for you. Won’t give it up unless he gets a shilling.”

  “Well, bring the boy aboard and let us see what he has.”

  There was a little conversation with the lad. He seemed to be concerned that he would be pressed. Finally though, a boy of about twelve climbed through a gun port, and was directed aft.

  “The lady said I was to get a shilling”, offered the boy. Phillips dug into his purse, and offered it to the boy. A cursory glance showed it to be from his wife.

  “Lad, just where is the lady that gave you the letter?”

  “She’s at an inn, the ‘Red Lion’. Says it’s near the Admiralty, but I don’t know where that is.

  Phillips announced, “Pass the word for Midshipman Lynch.”

  Lynch appeared on the run.

  “Lynch, do you know where the inn ‘The Red Lion’ is located?”

  Lynch thought for a moment, and admitted he had never heard of the establishment.

  Addressing the boy who had brought the letter, Phillips asked, “Lad, I want you to show Lynch here where the Red Lion is. He will hire a cab and give you a ride there, then give you another shilling. Will that serve?”

  “Yessir. Can my sister go too?”

  “Sure
ly, just where is your sister?”

  “She’s in the boat.” pointing over the side.

  Looking overboard, Phillips saw a punt up against Stag, a tiny girl hanging onto a line someone had dropped to her.

  “Lynch”, his captain ordered, “Take the jolly boat. First, return the punt to where it is supposed to be. Then, hire a cab, and load these children aboard. Have the boy direct you to the Red Lion. There, I want you to locate my wife Sarah, and tell her I will be with her shortly. If she needs any help, do what you can for her. Find what she wants you to do, if she wants to come to the ship, then bring her. Better take Peabody with you. It would take a brave footpad who would interfere with that man.”

  In a few minutes, Lynch and the children loaded into the jolly boat. A boat crewman took the punt in tow. On the way to shore, the boy whispered to Lynch that he might have forgotten to ask permission to borrow the punt. Without a second thought, Lynch ordered the cox’n to pull the boat and its tow between a pair of fishing boats moored near the quay. Stroke oar took the punt’s painter, and took a few turns around one of the boat’s anchor cable. Then they were off to shore.

  Lynch and the children left the boat, which returned to Stag. Lynch led the way to a nearby stable where he had rented vehicles in the past. There was a little suspicion at first, until Thomas showed the well filled purse. He was able to hire a sound cabriolet, as well as a likely looking bay gelding. Loading the children aboard, they were off. An hour later found them in front of an old, but newly painted inn. Growing up nearby, Thomas remembered when it had had a different name also.