The French were just as uniformly opposed to that idea and were allowed to crew the boats taking the civilians to shore. Alert and her latest prize made their way out to sea. With many of his crew gone into the prizes, Phillips did not wish to encounter any more enemy vessels.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Alert with her prize made port in Lisbon and found she was not expected for another few weeks. The mail packet had come in with word from Portsmouth that Alert had been given a cruise. Admiral Collingwood was at sea with the fleet, but one of his frigates had just come in to take on fresh vegetables for the fleet’s use.
As soon as Alert sailed into the harbor and made her number, HMS Alceste hoisted the signal for Alert’s captain to repair on board. Captain Murray Maxwell met Phillips at the entry port and took him into the great cabin. After finishing a glass of wine, Captain Maxwell got to the point.
“Lieutenant Phillips, I was tasked by Admiral Collingwood to come into port and take on what fresh provisions I could obtain for the fleet. Apparently the ships’ surgeons have determined scurvy may be about ready to pounce.”
“I have loaded aboard onions and lemons which I feel will fulfill my orders. However, I have since been approached by members of General Wellesley’s staff who wish me to deliver urgent dispatches to Malta. If I leave on that mission, Admiral Collingwood’s fleet may well suffer from the lack of the provisions I have gathered. Therefore, I am going to take you under my command and have your brig deliver the dispatches to Malta.”
Phillips considered arguing with the captain, but realized it would serve no purpose. He had had his cruise, made a fair amount of money and had to expect to go back to his work. He merely said, “Aye aye, sir” and waited for his instructions.
Captain Maxwell, relieved he did not have to ruin his digestion by arguing with the lieutenant, advised him to return to his brig and await the dispatches from Army headquarters.
As long as they were parting on good terms, Phillips decided to ask for advice about his prizes.
“Sir, on the way down, I took two prizes. One, I sent to Gibraltar. The other is moored near my brig. Having never taken a prize before, I have no prize agent and wonder what I should do about this.”
“Well, Captain Phillips, my own agent has a representative here in Lisbon, as well as another in Gibraltar.” He shouted for his clerk and told him to give Captain Phillips the name of the agent here.
“The Army will be all day getting the papers in order. I suggest you go ashore and see if Senhor Laveda can assist you.”
Phillips had his boat leave him at the quay and told it to return to the brig. He ordered Mister Akers, the new fourteen year old midshipman to alert the watch to watch for him. He would wave his handkerchief from the quay when he wanted the boat to come back for him. That settled, he hired a boy to lead him to the place of business of Captain Maxwell’s agent.
Trouble ensued when he tried to give instructions to the lad. The boy spoke no English and the written address was a complete mystery to him. A priest walking by asked in good English if he could help. Phillips explained his desire to be taken to Senhor Laveda’s office. The priest examined the note and spoke in rapid Portuguese to the boy.
With a nod, the youngster agreed to the task and held out his hand. At that internationally known demand, Phillips felt in his purse and extracted a silver sixpence. With a yelp of joy, the boy ran ahead, only to stop and wait for Phillips. After being led through a bewildering maze of alleys, he found himself in front of a small shop. A brass plate set into the masonry announced this was the place of business of Senhor Laveda.
Phillips guide scampered off and for want of anything else to do, he experimentally tugged on a braided cord that hung out of an aperture. A muted bell sounded inside and a slightly built woman answered the door. When her burst of rapid Portuguese did not elicit any response from her visitor, she held up her finger and left for a moment.
A young Englishman, dressed fashionably, came to the door and stated. “Sir, I am Amos Drew, an associate here. May I help you?”
Phillips told the young man his problem and wondered if he could see a prize agent. Drew explained. “My uncle is the chief officer of our office in London. He has sent me here to learn the differing business practices. The Laveda agency is allied with my uncle’s office and we can take care of your difficulty.”
Informing Drew of the prize trabacollo in Gibraltar, the fellow dismissed his concern. My uncle is associated with another agent there who will handle your business.
Drew informed him, after taking his particulars, the agency would see to both vessels through the different prize courts and handle any legal difficulties that might crop up. When the vessels were condemned, they with their cargoes, would be sold at auction and all monies deposited with his banker.
Phillips admitted he had no banker. Drew waved this off as a matter of no importance. “We can hold your funds until you do select a banker. For your information, Coutts does maintain an office here in Lisbon where you may discuss opening an account.”
With his immediate business taken care of, young Phillips decided to return to the brig. The prize agent could safeguard his funds until he was able to talk to a banker.
Knowing his guide was gone, Phillips asked Drew how he must go to get back to the waterfront. Drew took him out the front door of the agency and pointed down the street. “Turn left at the next cross street and you will see the bay in front of you.”
In the event, he was only a cable’s length away from the quay where he had landed. He pulled out his handkerchief and waved it tentatively. With no sign of any activity aboard Alert, he held it up and waved it more forcefully. This time, after a few moments delay, he saw the ship’s colors dip slightly, then the boat crew tumbling down into the launch.
On board, Dale showed him the bag of dispatches and gave him the written instructions which had been brought aboard earlier. With everything understood and a land breeze that would just take them out, Alert hoisted the signal requesting permission to depart. When no answer came after half a glass, Dale said, “I wonder if those Army people even know how to answer you?”
When the final grains of sand ran from the half hour glass by the binnacle, Phillips said, “To hell with them, let us up anchor and get to sea while we can. If they have any complaints, they can bring them to Admiral Collingwood.”
The crew now well versed in winning their anchor, the brig soon had the breeze on her quarter and was making her way to sea. As they left, signal flags rose to the signal mast on shore. Dale approached his captain with a frown on his face. “That signal they just sent is complete gibberish. Some soldier probably just pulled flags out of a drawer at random and ran them up the mast.”
“Well, just send them a ‘Not understood’ and bid them goodbye.”
More gibberish mounted the shore side mast, until it dropped out of sight.
With his orders, Alert could have just sailed through the Straits and on to Malta, but Phillips thought a dispatch vessel, such as Alert might have an excuse to stop at Gibraltar. He did want to check on the disposition of his prize trabacollo and hopefully retrieve his crew.
He entered harbor with no difficulties and took a boat ashore. A visit to the ‘Convent’, a former actual convent which had come into British hands a century ago at the conquest of Gibraltar and now served as Government House, served no purpose. An official there did not deem it necessary for him to see the acting governor, but did find some military dispatches that needed to be sent to Malta.
Arranging for it to be delivered on board the brig, he went in search of the prize agent’s office here. After some effort, he was led to the place by a pair of redcoats and went in to discuss his trabacollo. The letter from Lisbon had not arrived yet, so they knew nothing about him, but his papers which he had brought explained everything. Like the agent in Lisbon, the people agreed to handle his vessel through prize court and oversee the distribution of funds. He was told he really should visit a
banker and obtain an account to which money could be remitted.
At their direction, he found the local branch of Coutts and arranged for an account to which money might be sent. When he returned to the brig, he found the trabacollo prize crew already aboard.
As Alert was preparing to sail, a lugger came up to the port side and announced they had mail to be delivered to Malta. This was normal post, rather than military mail and Phillips thought it would have been pleasant had someone asked him earlier to accept such mail, however he realized as an acting lieutenant, he had absolutely minimal influence here, so his best option was to do as he was asked, before someone made it an order.
An official at the harbormaster’s office had told him there were few French National ships that he needed to be concerned about these days in the Med, but many privateers, indeed. It seemed any fisherman with a rowboat and a punt gun was given a Letter of Marque these days so he could go privateering.
The official’s advice was to make certain the privateer could see his force before they became engaged. Most of these people were careful not to endanger their own vessel unnecessarily. The truth of this showed itself early on, when another of the ubiquitous trabacollos showed itself with a bone in its teeth coming up from behind.
These craft were built for trade, not for raiding and were not usually very fast. This one was no exception, but she was just slightly faster than Alert. The brig had not been flying her red ensign or commission pennant, since both were becoming tattered.
However, now was the time to hoist them. The trabacollo was not impressed and fired off a six pounder bow chaser as she was closing. Unable to escape, Alert fetched to and ran out her guns. A sensible captain might have called it a day and left for other pastures, but this one was stubborn and kept coming.
Alert’s gunners were by now well trained. Every port side gun captain had his arm raised, indicating he was ready to fire. Phillips nodded to Dale and he ordered, “As your guns bear, you may fire.”
One after another, each gun fired deliberately. They were at long gun range and the first few balls put up splashed near the oncoming privateer. Then, one hit the sea just short of the trabacollo and ricocheted into its hull. Then others found the range and began hitting the enemy solidly.
The vessel, unprepared for the assault, tried to tack, but her foremast came down as she tried to come about. Dale gave her a parting salute before Alert got before the wind again and sailed away.
Dale oversaw getting the guns housed before reporting to Phillips on the quarterdeck. “I wager that fellow will think twice before he tries to attack a British warship again. I wonder what possessed him.”
Phillips advised. “To him we probably looked like an unarmed trading brig at first. Even after we showed him our teeth, he likely assumed the guns were quakers.” Some merchant ship captains used black painted logs on their decks to simulate guns.
“We did some expensive damage to his brig. He will need a new foremast and his owners will not be happy about that. Shouldn’t we go back and finish him off? We could stand off and hammer him until he hauls down his flag.”
“I think not, Master Dale. Admiralty will not be happy if we interrupt our voyage to take a prize. At the moment, we have merely defended ourselves. Anything further we do may incur their lordships displeasure. Besides, the vessel is already a wreck. If we had to pound her more, we might never be able to get her to port.”
With the brig ready to run out her guns at the approach of any enemy, she made it to Valetta harbor in Malta without further incident. She unloaded her mail bags and the dispatch case without more such coming back on board. Phillips learned the scheduled mail packet had departed just the day before, clearing the postal office of all mail waiting shipment.
With no further orders awaiting, the brig cleared port and turned north, then sailing around Sicily toward the Italian peninsula. Sailing up the western coast, she began to encounter coastal shipping. She stopped several traders and inspected their cargoes. A vessel carrying anything that could be construed as useful to the French military was burned and the crews shifted into their own boats.
There was unrest in the brig as the men saw their prize money burn merrily away. Captain Philips tried to explain to the crew the impracticality of sending every small craft away with a prize crew, but few wanted to listen or understand.
Alert did gain a few seamen as some of the Italian sailors voluntarily asked to join the ship. The reason being given was their probable conscription into Napoleon’s army when they reached a French controlled port.
With more men aboard than when they left Portsmouth, Phillips began actively looking for a vessel worth sending home. He found what he was looking for as the brig rounded Elba, between Corsica and the Italian mainland. She was a brig, much the same size as their own vessel, heavily laden and low in the water.
Flying the tricolor, Alert approached the oncoming brig as if she too, was merely rounding the island in a northerly direction to windward of the trader. When the two brigs were passing, Phillips ordered his starboard guns run out and the ensign and commission pennant flown.
A forward gun firing told the stranger this was no mistake and she immediately let fly her sheets, wallowing to a stop. Visiting the brig with the launch’s crew and a boat load of men, Dale returned with a smile on his face. “She has a cargo of wine in casks, as well as a large consignment of salt beef. The casks all have French military markings. Her captain and first mate are French and she sailed from Toulon bound for occupied Cagliari on Sardinia. She is a good prize, Captain.”
Many of the brig’s crew were Italians, subject to conscription by the French. These men mostly volunteered to join the Royal Navy, believing this would be better than being a foot soldier in Napoleon’s forces or rotting in the prison hulks. Dale stowed them below in Alert, picking out trustworthy crewmen from Alert to crew the prize brig.
With limited space to stow more prisoners, Phillips decided to sail for Gibraltar to drop off his prisoners and the prize. Then, he thought, it would be best if he returned to Admiral Collingwood’s fleet. His orders to deliver dispatches to Malta covered his absence, but now he felt he needed to check in with the Admiral.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Approaching the blockading fleet off Cadiz, the masthead lookout spotted the ships exercising. The largest ship in the fleet was the second rate line-of battle ship HMS Ocean, which served as the flagship for Vice Admiral Sir Cuthbert Collingwood. Making her number to the flag, Alert was ordered to come under the three decker’s lee.
Wishing he had a sailing master aboard with more experience than himself, Phillips maneuvered the brig through the fleet and perhaps by accident, found herself in the proper position without disgracing herself.
After a few moments delay, a flag hoist ordered Alert’s captain aboard the ship-of-the-line. Phillips had become accustomed to the big Atlantic swells on the way from Gibraltar, but now, in the cutter, they seemed monstrous.
Determined to board the flag without making a spectacle of himself, he gathered himself as the bow man hooked on to the big ship. Waiting for his moment, he stood as the boat was rising on a swell and simultaneously grasped the man ropes and put his foot on a batten on the flag’s hull.
The boat then dropped into the trough, leaving him stranded on the liner’s hull. Before he could find the batten with his other foot, it had sunk into the water, soaking his foot and calf in the ice cold water. Getting himself together, he began the climb up the hull.
The flag captain met him at the entry port and commiserated with him on his wet foot. Ushered into the great cabin, Vice Admiral Collingwood immediately ordered him to sit and ordered his servant to fetch a towel. After the worst of the water had been swabbed off, Sir Cuthbert ordered, “Captain Phillips, you must know that dousing your body in cold water as you just did is the best way to bring on the ague that I know. There is only one sure remedy.”
Sir Cuthbert ordered his servant to bring his own elixir
for the prevention of ague. He disclosed the recipe to Phillips. “Patterson will take two measures of Navy rum, another of brandy and add that to a glass of Bordeaux wine. A raw egg is dropped in and finally a quantity of crushed Jamaica pepper and Peruvian bark added. The medicine must be downed in one draught, or it will not be effective.”
The servant brought a tall class nearly filled with the concoction and Collingwood bade Phillips to down it in one gulp. Phillips needed to have several gulps, with the vice admiral urging him on. When finished, the combination of the spirits and the pepper left him barely able to breathe.
His superiors left him alone in the great cabin to recuperate while they went on deck to discuss matters away from his groaning.
When they returned, he had almost decided he might live. Sweating profusely, he listened to the fleet commander as he expressed his desires.
“I have read the note Sir Roger sent me concerning yourself from Portsmouth. He believes, in spite of your youth, you should receive the King’s commission. I do not normally believe in advancing young men as young as yourself, but you have been resourceful and successful. Therefore, I have directed those captains present in my fleet to come aboard and we will convene a board to examine your qualifications to become a commission officer.”
Phillips tried to demur, saying that he needed time to study for the examination.
Sir Cuthbert retorted, “Young man, you are either capable of commanding a King’s ship, or you are not. If you are unable to convince my captains of your abilities, then you have no business commanding Alert.”
His Magesty's Brig Alert: A Tim Phillips Novel Page 4