There they remained all morning, occasionally spelling each other when it became time to visit the necessary or to refresh their thirst. By afternoon, Hans had become impatient and irritable, deciding he was not going to wait for the Navy any longer. He decided he was going to the docks and see about obtaining passage to America for himself and his sister.
Nothing Phillips could say would dissuade him and he was determined to leave. When he found a ship, he would find his way back to the house and collect his sister.
The pair had noticed a thin man, balding and rather fragile looking appearing in the waiting room now and again all morning, speaking to every post captain in the room. As they neared the door, the fellow approached Tim.
“Lieutenant, I am attempting to find a Captain Phillips. Would you know of him and where he might be found?”
“Captain Phillips”, wondered Tim. “Would that be Captain John Phillips or might it be Captain Timothy Phillips?”
“Oh sir; Captain Timothy Phillips, to be sure.”
“Well sir, I am Timothy Phillips. Although I am a mere lieutenant, I command His Majesty’s Brig Alert and people do call me Captain sometimes.”
“Sir, I humbly beg your pardon. His Lordship the Honorable Viscount Eckersley has been waiting for you all morning. He is most displeased.”
“I too have been waiting all morning with Mister Kofoed here also and we are both most displeased.”
The two were ushered into a paneled office with an enormous desk. Phillips reported to the official and both men were requested to sit. Eckersley referred to the long wait both parties had experienced and said, “That fool Watson was told to bring in Captain Phillips and party. He approached every post captain that entered the building. It escaped him that officers without post captain epaulettes could also be addressed as Captain.”
He mentioned he had spent an hour earlier with Mister Lund and examined the documents he had brought from Denmark. Eckersley said both Lund and those documents were going to be very useful. Lund had been offered a paid position as an advisor on the Baltic region for the Admiralty, which had been accepted.
After discussing Danish affairs with Hans, Eckersley informed him that he was probably not going to be needed on an advisory position, but perhaps there might be another position open to a well-built young man.
“I am required to be escorted by an armed guard whenever I carry secret documents. My present man was injured when a footpad attempted to take my case a few evenings ago. Jenkins is mobile and still accompanies me but his arm was broken. Would you consider assisting him to escort me?”
It was soon settled. Hans would enter the employ of Viscount Eckersley. His sister also, might be considered as a companion for his wife. They were requested to bring her to the house that very night.
“Now then, Captain Phillips, what are we to do with you?”
Phillips sat mute. As a naval officer he had not expected he would have any input as to his assignments.
Eckersley went on, “I believe you were sent here by the Portsmouth Port Admiral in case you were needed to elaborate on anything Lund or young Kofoed might have to say. The documents Lund brought were self-explanatory and his own accounts were perfectly clear. I doubt we will need further clarification. I believe you are assigned to Admiral Saumarez in the Baltic, is that not so?”
‘Yes sir, my brig Alert, is mostly utilized for delivering dispatches and transporting supplies.”
“Ah yes, I am told you young firebrands are always champing at the bit to engage enemy vessels and gain glory for yourselves. I would imagine duties such as you describe must inhibit chances for action.”
“Young man, while the duties the Navy has assigned you to perform are most important, so is the hindrance of Bonaparte’s commerce. Every French trading vessel or one belonging to any ally that is captured or destroyed is a spoke in the French economic wheel.”
“Admiral Saumarez has indicated he needs more seamen for his fleet to replace men lost from injury or disease. Every ship we send to him, we endeavor to put extra men aboard.”
“Captain, where exactly is your brig anchored?”
“Portsmouth Harbor, Milord.”
“Ah, I was hoping you were in the Pool or perhaps at the Nore. Well, we will give you your orders here and you may draw on the Impress Service in Portsmouth for fifty additional hands. Your brig is being sent back to the Baltic, but on the way there, your orders will give you a free hand in pursuing enemy ships and trade.”
“You will have extraordinary freedom to bring discomfort to the enemy. Of course, the extra hands are intended to go to Admiral Saumarez, but you will be permitted to utilize some to send valuable prizes back home. Notice I said valuable. You will not regard this as a license to send back every fishing boat or small barge you capture. These you may sink or burn.”
“Now, Captain Phillips, are there any questions? If not, stop by the Admiralty tomorrow morning and collect your orders and travel voucher.”
That evening, Hans and Hilda visited Viscount Eckersley’s home and Hilda was interviewed. With satisfaction on both sides, it was decided the siblings would present themselves there the next morning for duty. Phillips would bid them goodbye tonight, since he must return to the Admiralty early the next morning.
The orders when Phillips collected them surprised him. All was as the Viscount had related to him the previous day, but Alert was not to sail for another two weeks. He was to await the arrival of the mail packet from Lisbon. Apparently news being carried aboard was to be sent on to Saumarez.
He decided to spend a few days in London then coach back to Portsmouth in case anything needed his attention. He was particularly concerned over the whereabouts of Mister Wainright, his first officer. He had no word of him since he took command of the prize corvette earlier.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Orders and documents in hand, he returned to the house. It was now early in the afternoon and the Portsmouth coach had already left. He settled in his library with a glass of wine and decided to read over his orders and instructions. Midway through, he was interrupted by the maid who presented him with a letter. It bore a private seal he did not recognize. The maid clarified, “It was a military gentleman that brought it. Royal Marine he said he was!”
Tim opened it and found he was being informed of a gathering the Viscountess was holding in two days’ time. He was invited to attend.
What to wear for the event? Any of his old civilian clothing he had in the house was out of style and in any event, too small. He would have to appear in uniform. Luckily, it was in good enough condition and the maid assured him the women would get it in good order for the party.
When the time came, a cabriolet had been laid on and he boarded the little two wheeled conveyance looking his best. The Viscount’s doorman greeted him at the door and took his hat and sword. A maid led him back to the garden where the glittering guests were gathered around small tables covered with various foods. Apparently, one was supposed to take a plate and a servant at each table would supply you with your wants.
Another servant wended his way among the throng carrying a large tray of filled wine glasses. Not knowing the drill, Tim helped himself to a glass of wine and waited to see what might develop.
Standing near one of the tables, he felt a feminine hand touch his arm. He turned and saw Susanne Wilder! She wore a fetching and revealing white gown and was easily the most alluring woman he saw present. Behind her was a gathering of older officers, of post rank and above and not a few apparent wives were glaring their displeasure.
Knowing better than to interfere with superior officer’s intents, Phillips politely greeted her by name and tried to withdraw. She was having none of this though and maneuvered him toward a group of seats near the edge of the garden. Two women seated there sniffed when Susanne bade him sit and hurriedly jumped up to relate this to their peers.
Susanne had him pinned there in the little seat, standing in front of him with her br
east nearly in his face.
Desperately, he looked around and spotted Hans Kofoed entering the garden looking handsome in some kind of livery. He interrupted Miss Wilder in the middle of her account of a local scandal and excused himself, almost knocking Wilder over as he jumped up.
Rushing over to Hans, he shook his friend’s hand and indicated the pouting woman behind him. “Hans, you should go meet that woman. I think you might get lucky!”
“I can’t do that, old fellow. I am one of the servants here and must not become familiar with the guests. My sister is coming behind me, why don’t you talk with her. They don’t regard her as a servant, being the Viscountess’ companion.
Phillips saw Hilda being escorted down the path by a pair of fops much too old for her. Tim rushed to her side and offered to get her a glass of wine. The panicked look she had on her face disappeared and she said, “Tim, I don’t need any wine but I would like it if you would sit with me.”
The fops glared at him as they went looking for other prey and Phillips led Hilda to the same group of seats he had just left. Susanne had left to find another victim and the two spent much of the evening discussing matters of interest to them.
Even after the rest of the party moved indoors when it grew chilly, they remained. Phillips noticed her shivering and took off his heavy coat and draped it over her shoulders. Before the evening was over, they discovered they both wanted to continue their friendship and Tim told her she could write to him aboard HMS Alert in care of the Admiralty.
“It may take months before one of your letters reaches me and more months before I can reply, but I will do so, Hilda.”
Becoming more used to each other, they began recounting amusing things that had happened to themselves recently. She told him about the fops. They were as old as her uncle but had somehow thought if they persisted long enough they might be successful.
Her brother had approached them, but they dismissed him as one of the servants and threatened to have some bully boys thrash him. As new arrivals in London, neither knew what to do.
Phillips offered to call them out. Distraught, she begged him not to do that. “I hear both have been out many times and are deadly with both pistol and sword. Please promise you will not do any such thing!”
As an alternative, Tim suggested she speak with the Viscountess. Perhaps she might have some advice on the matter. In the meantime, she should not go out un-escorted.
It was getting late and the stars had come out when Susanne made another attempt. She came out of the house, marched straight up to Tim and said, “Dear, I must really go home now. Would you please escort me?” She reached around Hilda and clutched his arm as she spoke.
Seeing the pair of fops coming out of the house with no prey to take home, Tim was inspired. “Susanne, I know those two gentlemen would be glad to escort you. Would you like me to call them over?”
Infuriated, Susanne ran back into the house. Finding Hans standing like a statue observing, Phillips went to him and told him he too must leave. He wanted to get on the early Portsmouth coach the next morning. Could he escort his sister to her room?
After leaving, while waiting for a cabriolet to happen by, Phillips kept his eyes open and his hand on his sword. He had made some enemies this night.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
It was early evening the next day when the coach arrived at the Portsmouth dockyard. He begged a ride in another ship’s launch out to Alert. When he answered to the anchor watch’s hail, he saw in the fading daylight a strange officer on the quarterdeck. The lieutenant was at the entryway to greet him when he came aboard. “Lieutenant Prescott sir”, he said, introducing himself. “Your new first officer.”
“I am very happy to see you, Mister Prescott. Have you any news of my previous first?”
“I do sir. I was told he was given command of a gun brig himself, as a reward for his part in the action you had with a French corvette.”
“I am sorry that he will not be coming back to us. However, I am sure you will be an exemplary replacement. Have you had any information about our forthcoming mission?”
“No sir.”
“It will be the Baltic. Alert has been there several times before. We will deliver mail and dispatches, as well as some extra hands the Impress Service will hand over to us. These are intended for the fleet but we will have use of some of them should we take any prizes on the way.”
“We will be sailing under Admiralty orders and have their lordship’s permission to discomfit Napoleon’s commerce as best we can. We will be permitted to send valuable prizes home, utilizing some of our extra hands, if necessary.”
“Now Mister Prescott, have you had any warning as to when these hands will be coming aboard?”
“No sir, your news is the first I have heard of the extra men. Yesterday, beef and pork in casks came aboard and our master’s mate has it stowed below. I am told the water hoy will be alongside at first light tomorrow to top off our water.”
“It looks like you have matters well in hand, Mister Prescott. We will not be leaving until the Lisbon mail packet comes in. It seems we will be carrying some dispatches from the Peninsula to the Baltic. Hopefully, the extra men will not appear until just before we leave. I need not tell you that the men will be jammed in like peas in a bag.”
“Sir, I neglected to tell you four midshipmen came aboard the day before yesterday.”
“What may I expect from them, Mister Prescott. Are they children right from their mother’s arms or are they old enough that we may get some use from them?”
“Sir, two of them seem to be seamen. The other pair have a year or two at sea.’
“Very well. We may be needing some of these young gentlemen for prizemasters. You will want to give each as much responsibility as he can handle. If one appears to be an ignorant dolt, tell me before we leave so I can set him ashore. We will have no space for useless hands on this voyage.”
The days passed rapidly. The crew drilled incessantly at the various shipboard tasks, including daily gun drill. Of course, in harbor, it was impossible to actually fire the guns, but they were now being readied for simulated firing in record time.
Phillips had gone ashore to make some purchases for the next voyage and discussed with the outfitter his need to obtain balls to fit his thirty two pounder carronades. Because Admiralty was parsimonious about supplying ammunition for practice purposes, if a captain wished to do very much live-fire practice, it was necessary to purchase his own ammunition.
The outfitter thought a moment and said it was possible a man he knew might be able to help. That evening, a sailing barge appeared off the larboard beam and the anchor watch was asked to inform the captain.
Midshipman Kearns, one of the new mids come aboard and old enough in the service to take no nonsense, offered to drop a ball through the bottom of the boat if it did not leave.
A passenger in the boat assured the mid the captain indeed would wish to talk with him, so Kearns send Mister Midshipman Halliday, one of the youngsters, to inform the captain. “Better for this lad to get his ears burned than himself”, thought Kearns.
Captain Phillips surprised him by welcoming the man in the boat aboard and taking him to his cabin. Shortly after, the man was tucking a wad of currency into his coat pockets, while Midshipman Kearns was ordered to call the watch below. In the bottom of the barge was a quantity of thirty two pound balls. A line from tackle on the mainyard hauled aboard in a cargo net filled with the heavy balls and seamen carried each ball below one at a time.
It was necessary to repeat the operation several times before the barge was empty. Mister Prescott had appeared on deck as soon as the first balls came aboard and supervised the operation. As soon as the barge had left and the deck had been swabbed down, dried and the men sent below, Phillips invited Prescott into his cabin for a drink.
“Mister Prescott, when you get a chance, take a look at a few of those balls. To me they looked to be in perfect condition. I would not be
surprised if they came direct from the Carron Company in Falkirk.”
Lieutenant Prescott’s face remained blank so Phillips explained further. “You know of course of our difficulty with obtaining practice ammunition from the Admiralty. It is my custom to try to purchase such from private sources whenever I can. At this time, I need no powder since I obtained a quantity from the corvette we took on our last voyage.”
“Normally, the only balls I can find are defective or badly rusted. These are new and without a blemish. I suspect there may be a captain in the anchorage who has signed for a consignment of balls without counting them. Probably his gunner has made some extra income.”
“Sir, should we not report this to the admiral?”
“There is that, Mister Prescott. However, we would then see the ammunition seized and my money would be gone. We would see a gunner lose his warrant and a captain made a mockery. Perhaps an enemy may escape our intentions because of our poor accuracy with the guns. I assure you, Mister Prescott, these balls will be fired at the enemy, rather than rusting in storage below. Perhaps the King’s money will prove to be well spent.”
The day came when the awaited dispatches were brought to the ship. On the same day, fifty hands were ushered aboard by the Impress Service. Few were impressed. Many of them were criminals of one sort or another who had spent weeks or months in gaol. A few were actual seamen who had been taken when their merchant ship arrived in port. Some of them seized by the Press before they had received their pay or had a run on shore.
It was time for Alert to sail.
The brig sailed over to run along the French coast. Pickings would be slim there since the Channel Fleet would have taken whatever shipping they could find. However, Phillips had learned the fleet was looking for some French ships of the line that had escaped from the Mediterranean earlier and few British liners remained on blockade. Some of the smaller ports were not guarded and Phillips wondered if some shipping might take the opportunity to get to sea.
His Magesty's Brig Alert: A Tim Phillips Novel Page 10