“I think we have the answer Gentlemen,” said Merriman. “We’ll leave it until the morning, but I want you Mr Shrigley, to go to and have a word with Mr McBride. The boy may be more willing to talk to you now that his problems have come into the open, but I think he may be more inclined to confide in the doctor. Report to me anything you may learn.”
Left on his own, Merriman sat, thinking hard about how best to resolve the matter. That Dorrington was guilty he was certain, but certainty was not proof. Unless Small or Hungerford would admit what had transpired there was no proof beyond the boy’s injuries and without proof Dorrington could not be punished.
“Pass the word for my Cox’n,” he called, hearing the message passed forr-ard from the marine sentry. A few moments later, Owen arrived. He had been Merriman’s Cox’n for over four years and had saved his captain’s life more than once and if anyone knew what was happening in the crowded conditions aboard ship it was Owen.
“Sit down Owen, you may be able to help with a problem.” Merriman proceeded to tell him what he suspected was happening in the midshipmen’s berth. “Do you know anything about this?”
“I know Mr Dorrington is a nasty piece of work Sir, begging your pardon. He never tires of taunting the men as if e’s tempting them to strike ‘im, and e’s fond of threatening a flogging for any man that upsets ‘im. We know ‘im and the other one ‘ave been seen teasing Mr Small and pushing ‘im about, but that’s probably only skylarking Sir.”
Very well Owen, if you hear of anything else be sure to let me know.”
Later, approaching dawn, the boat was sighted bringing Grahame and the others back to the ship.
Once he was seated in Merriman’s cabin, the strain of the past events clearly showing on his face, he said “Things are bad ashore there James, The first man I wanted to see was lying dead in his own house with his throat cut and his terrified wife said that two men had burst in and killed him. Apparently it had happened only shortly before we arrived.”
“Doubtless somebody knew or suspected that he was one of your agents Sir”, said Merriman, “And what of the other?”
“When I called he was reluctant to open the door and when he did he held a loaded musket and a brace of pistols was lying ready on the table. He was in fear for his life which had been threatened but he wouldn’t leave his home. I think the fellow was frightened to stay and too frightened to move. Nothing I could say or offer him would induce him to talk. I told him of the fate of my other informant and even offered to bring him back here with me, but he would say nothing other than that he’d rather stay on his own land. I don’t think I’ll see him alive again.”
“Undoubtedly Sir. Did you see no sign of the men who killed your man?”
“Oh indeed we did. Somebody was following us. Jackson said he knew they were there but we couldn’t see them until they suddenly attacked us. I’ll tell you James, those two, Matthews and Jackson are first class fighting men and I was grateful to have them with me I doubt that I’d be alive now but for your forethought in sending them with me. I really can’t thank them enough and I trust you will prefer them when you can.”
“Jackson was a poacher once and used to the dark Sir. Anyway, I’m happy to see everybody back unharmed.”
“Well James, I can see no way of learning more. Assuredly there must be somebody who knows something but our chances of finding them or intercepting a messenger ship in this appalling weather are very poor.”
Since leaving Cork the ship had encountered high winds and erratic seas, but the rain had hardly ceased. Conditions below for the crew were unspeakable, with their clothing permanently cold and damp many were suffering from chills and fever. Merriman had authorised extra rum rations for each off going watch and the ship’s cook was ordered to keep a sort of broth hot for the men as best he could.
“Well, it’s now the middle of December and all the information we have indicated that the French would make the attempt before Christmas,” said Grahame, “although that is far from certain. Even if they have managed to get their ships ready and the troops assembled, they still have the blockade to consider.”
“True Sir, but remember that a strong offshore gale could scatter our ships and be ideal for the French to leave harbour. They could sail without a King’s ship seeing them.”
Merriman would never have thought of himself as having second sight, indeed in his usual hard headed way he considered all such to be stuff and nonsense, but unknown to him he was exactly right.
On December 17th the French fleet sailed. It was a formidable force with several massive ships of the line, including Les Droits de L’Homme, Revolution, Indomptable, Courageux and Surveillante. Wolfe Tone was aboard Indomptable and Moreau aboard the corvette La Sirene, with the soldiers crammed aboard the warships and transport ships.
The blockading English ships under Sir John Colpoys were blown off station by an offshore gale which allowed the French to escape without hindrance. The only English warship to see them was Pellew’s Indefatigable. The French fleet was now loose in the Atlantic and Pellew headed south, believing that they were going to Spain, and hoping to warn the English fleet
When the gale abated a thick fog descended which had the effect of scattering the French ships, although most managed to rejoin the main body, and on December 20th, in relatively calm weather, thirty four out of the original forty three approached the Irish coast and entered Bantry Bay. There they anchored, making their preparations for landing the troops.
The flagship, which had not been seen since the fog enveloped the fleet, carried the Admiral and the commander in chief General Hoche. General Grouchy, aboard one of the ships at anchor, made the worst decision possible from the French point of view. He decided to wait for them to arrive before ordering the troops ashore.
That same morning, Lord Stevenage began to retrace her movements along the Irish coast. Merriman was on deck, pacing up and down as was his habit when thinking. As yet young Small had revealed nothing. The doctor had confirmed that the boy would be stiff and sore for a time but would recover from the beating though not fit for duty for a few days. At eight bells of the morning watch he reached a decision and spoke to Lieutenant Andrews who had just come on watch.
“Mr Andrews, my compliments to Mr Laing and would he bring Mr Hungerford to my cabin and ask Mr Shrigley to bring Mr Dorrington down but wait outside.”
Laing ushered in a pale and trembling Hungerford who stood before the table looking nervously from one officer to the other. Neither spoke but simply stared at the youth who became more and nervous as the moments passed. Merriman finally broke the silence.
“Mr Hungerford, I know all about what has been going on in the midshipmen’s berth. Mr Small has been badly beaten and - - - ,” here he paused, stood up and leaned forward until his face was close to that of the terrified midshipman and roared “I WANT TO KNOW WHY YOU DID IT.”
“No Sir I didn’t , it was Mr Dorrington Sir, he made me.”
“But you helped him didn’t you. Why?”
“Yes Sir, I held him down on a sea chest while Mr Dorrington beat him with a riding whip he has Sir. He said he would beat me if I didn’t and would have his family throw my parents out of their shop. He found out that his family owns the property my father rents Sir.”
The boy was openly weeping now, “What else could I have done Sir. My parents scraped together every penny they could to give me this chance of a career, and they would be destitute.”
“Very well Mr Hungerford, tell me how long this has been going on.”
“Almost from the first, when Mr Dorrington came aboard Sir.”
“And do you know why he picked on Mr Small?”
“Y-Yes Sir, he wanted Mr Small to do some of his duties for him and he wanted to do things to him and Small wouldn’t let him.”
“What things? Come on boy, speak up.”
“To him Sir, you know,” and the boy pointed vaguely to his groin.
“Ah-h-h, I see. T
hank you, now stand over there. Mr Laing, I believe we have the truth at last. We’ll have Mr Shrigley and Dorrington in now.”
Dorrington attempted to keep a supercilious sneer on his face when the officers stared at him in a silence broken only by muffled sobs from the other boy.
“We know what you have been doing Mr Dorrington, how you have been beating Mr Small, literally the smallest and weakest of you, because he won’t fall in with your depraved wishes, and bullying Mr Hungerford into helping you.”
“It’s a lie! If Hungerford told you that he lied. You can’t take the word of the son of a shoemaker above mine. He was the one doing the beating. I tried to stop him but - - - - “his voice trailed away before the fury on Merriman’s face.
“The Honourable Arthur Dorrington, that is your title I believe, isn’t that so?”
“Yes, you know it is,” replied Dorrington.
“Then your title is a sham. There is neither honesty, manhood or anything honourable about you, you are arrogant, a liar, a sadistic bully and a shirker. No gentleman would force another by means of threats to help him ill-treat another, and a boy a mere twelve years old at that. Your behaviour is despicable and not that expected of an officer in the King’s service. You will be punished, oh yes! you will be punished. Keep quiet boy, and I’ve told you before to say Sir when you address an officer.”
“Mr Shrigley, kindly pass the word to the Bos’n that he is needed on the quarterdeck with two of his mates and to bring his cane. We will join him there.”
“Aye – aye Sir, with pleasure.”
“Sir, what are you going to do?” cried Dorrington in a panic. Gone was his arrogant pose, he was looking wildly about him as if looking for a means of escape, but there was none.
“Do? Why, nothing you don’t deserve. I’m going to have you beaten as you beat little Mr Small.”
“No you can’t, you can’t, I couldn’t stand it. I’ve never been beaten.”
Merriman was a stern disciplinarian but not a cruel man and he felt a pang of regret that he was being forced to subject the youth to this punishment, but he hardened his heart.
“Then you should have been, it may have curbed your temper and arrogance. Mr Laing, please take the two of them on deck and hand them over to the Bos’n. If Mr Dorrington causes you any difficulty we’ll have a couple of marines drag him up there. I will follow.”
The other officers and Mr Grahame had gathered on the quarter deck and Mr Brockle the Bos’n, with two of his mates was standing apart with the two midshipmen between them. Temporarily the rain had ceased and Lord Stevenage was swooping and rolling in a quartering, confused sea.
“Mr Brockle, these boys are to be punished. I think you will know what for.”
“Aye Sir, We all know what they’ve done to Mr Small and we ‘eard of the state of the lad’s back.”
It was amazing how word travelled round a ship. Only those in Merriman’s cabin had heard all that had been said but already the watch below and other hands had appeared on deck to see what was happening.
“Right Mr Brockle, start with Mr Hungerford. He is not the main culprit so I think six strokes will do, six of the best mind. Bend him over that gun.”
“Aye – aye Sir. As the Bos’n rolled up his sleeve, Merriman was pleased to see Hungerford walk to the gun and bend over it without being told, his face set determinedly. “May be hope for that one,” mused Merriman as the Bos’n administered the six stinging cuts with his cane without a sound coming from the boy’s lips.
“And now for Mr Dorrington. He is to have twenty strokes, and laid on with a will Mr Brockle. If your arm tires, one of your mates may continue the punishment You may need to hold him down,” warned Merriman.
When he heard the sentence, the midshipman broke free of the bos’n’s mates and attempted to run forr-ard, but Owen thrust out his foot and the two men were on him in a flash, dragging him kicking and screaming back to the gun. There they spread him over it and hung on to his hands and feet.
“Lay on Mr Buckle.” Merriman watched with a face like stone while the youth writhed and bawled unavailingly. At twelve strokes Merriman called the doctor to look to the boy.
“He’s well enough Sir,” he reported with a grin. “He’ll stand the rest.”
“Very good, continue Mr Brockle if you please.”
After the last eight strokes Dorrington struggled to his feet. His sobs and screams had finished and when the doctor made to attend him he snarled “Keep your filthy hands off me, damn you.” Holding himself stiffly erect he looked round the watching officers, his face scarlet with fury and humiliation.
“I’ll see you dead for this outrage if it’s the last thing I do,” he almost spat the words out, looking directly at Merriman as he did so.
“You’ll keep your mouth shut and get below before I ask the Bos’n to give you another ten strokes,” replied Merriman, “And if I hear of any more of your bad ways, you’ll find yourself bending over a gun again. From now on you will not lay a finger on Mr Small and I want that whip of yours given to Mr Shrigley to throw over the side.”
For the time being nothing more would be heard from Dorrington but that he had not accepted his beating would soon become dreadfully apparent. Merriman had made himself a vengeful enemy.
Chapter 9 : French corvette and three troop transports arrive in Ireland
The next day a lookout sighted a sail which turned out to be a naval cutter. Both ships hove to and the young lieutenant in command of the cutter climbed aboard wet to the waist having badly misjudged the movement of his boat relative to the frigate in the heaving sea.
It seemed to bother him not one bit as to the ill-concealed amusement of the officers and men on deck, he squelched across the quarterdeck to where Merriman was waiting. “Lieutenant Heatherington Sir, the cutter Tiny. I have despatches and letters for you Sir, and one for a Mr Grahame.”
“Thank you Mr Heatherington, perhaps you will join me in my cabin for a glass of something to warm you while I read these despatches. My servant will find you a towel. Mr Grahame, will you join us?”
The despatches contained little of use except the news, now several days old, that the French fleet was expected to try to break the blockade at any time. “That means that if they have succeeded, they could arrive off this coast at any moment,” exclaimed Grahame after Merriman had passed the despatch to him.
“Exactly so Sir, they may have arrived already.”
“Mr Heatherington, dry or not, back to your ship at once. There is a French invasion imminent and we could have French cannon balls about our ears before the day is out. Have you been given any further orders?”
“Only that I should go back to Portsmouth after finding you Sir.”
“Good, well then my orders are that you sail eastwards ahead of this ship but remain within signalling distance. Any sign of enemy ships and you’ll signal so and then make your fastest time to Cork to alert the garrison there. Try and stay out of trouble. If you do sight the French, keep away from them. It is more important that the army is alerted than that you test your popguns against a French warship.”
“Aye – aye Sir, are the French really going to invade Ireland Sir?”
“Indeed, they are going to try Mr Heatherington, they have much to gain if they succeed. Another thing, if you can discover where Commodore Pellew’s squadron is, you must make haste to find him and warn him, after you have been to Cork.”
Heatherington practically hurled himself down into his boat and almost as soon as he was aboard his little ship it was under way again.
Merriman called his officers together. “You know what this means Gentlemen. If the French succeed in their purpose and wrest Ireland from our control, then England will be ringed about with the enemy. If we sight the invasion fleet we must avoid the warships and endeavour to attack and sink as many transport ships as possible. Those ships will be carrying cannon and powder and the bulk of the army’s equipment, not to mention hundreds of soldiers.
Every one we sink means fewer troops for our garrisons to fight.”
“It seems like a David and Goliath situation Sir,” said Lieutenant Weston, “Just us against a fleet. Long odds I would say”
“Quite right Mr Weston, but the navy thrives on long odds. When we get among the transports I’ll be looking to those big twenty-five pounders and the smashers to speak well for us.”
“Oh they will Sir, I have no doubt. Mr Salmon and I have paid special attention to the crews of the big guns. They are the same men that stood to them aboard Aphrodite.”
Speed was impossible with the two ships sailing into the teeth of rising winds which made progress slow. The cutter made better time with her fore and aft rig than the big frigate with square sails and Heatherington was forced to reduce sail so as not to leave Lord Stevenage behind.
The wind increased and Merriman was forced to shorten sail even more whilst Lord Stevenage rolled and pitched without cease. Mr Grahame groaned, turned green and bolted below and Midshipman Dorrington, who regardless of his soreness still had to stand-to with the ship at action stations, was crouched in the scuppers retching his insides out to the amusement of the officers and men on the quarterdeck.
Merriman went below to read the letters delivered by Lieutenant Heatherington. It became obvious that his hastily scrawled letters, sent from London, had reached home very quickly and just as quickly the replies had reached him.
“The naval postal service has excelled itself for once,” he thought to himself as he read one from his father congratulating him on his promotion. Apart from giving him all the family news the letter also told him that his friend Captain Saville had finally returned home from the West Indies and would be at the wedding. Another piece of news was that a man named Robinson, a lawyer from Chester who had been helping the French agent Moreau in the affair of the Viceroy of Ireland, had at last been traced to America where he had vanished, probably in Boston or New York. Robinson was wanted not only for his traitorous activities but also for the murder of his wife.
Merriman and the French Invasion (The Merriman Chronicles Book 2) Page 8