[Lieutenant Oliver Anson 02] - Strike the Red Flag

by David McDine

  She laughed. ‘Nonsense, uncle! Those are mere pastimes for silly girls destined to become submissive decorative wives of wealthy men. I would sooner exercise my mind rather than my needle!’

  Anson thought immediately of his own two sisters who spent their lives at just such pastimes – gossiping, and sizing up all well-off eligible males within striking distance as possible husbands. Cassandra Parkin was clearly a different kettle of fish altogether.

  ****

  Dinner that evening at Ludden Hall was one of the most pleasant occasions Anson had enjoyed for many a month.

  The affection between uncle and niece was infectious and the conversation ranged far and wide, from the habits of potter bees and other curiosities of natural history to be explored in the grounds to the straightness of Roman roads and the survival of Anglo-Saxon place-names.

  When Parkin steered their chatter to life in the navy, Cassandra was fascinated to discover that Anson had joined as a thirteen-year-old, exclaiming: ‘Goodness, I was still playing with my dolls at that age!’

  She laughed charmingly at his tales of being tricked by older members of the midshipmen’s berth into searching for the golden rivet, being sent to hear the dogfish bark or to ask the purser for a hammock ladder, and being mast-headed for not knowing his foremost edge from his bitter end. ‘A part of a sail and a rope’s end,’ he explained.

  ‘Can you recall, Lieutenant Anson, at what stage did you cease being the butt of your fellow midshipmen’s jokes?’

  ‘Oh, as soon as someone younger than I came on board,’ he admitted.

  ‘At which point you became one of the tormenters rather than the tormented?’

  Anson laughed. ‘Very perceptive, Miss Parkin. That is the natural order of things, but no, I never saw the need to subject the youngsters to such torture. Life at sea is hard enough for them as it is.’

  ‘When did you, as it were, come of age and become a lieutenant?’

  ‘Ah, thereby hangs a tale. It’s necessary to have six years’ sea service after which there is an examination—’

  ‘Just like school?’

  ‘I can assure you that it’s a far greater ordeal than any test at school. Worse than the labours of Hercules! I had to attend a board with my certificates and logs and was subjected to an interrogation from a trio of extremely grumpy old captains who insisted that I convince them of my diligence and sobriety and asked me the most impossible questions about such things as seamanship, gunnery and, worst of all, navigation, which was never my strongest subject. I was reduced to a quivering, stuttering imbecile.’

  ‘But you passed?’

  ‘Yes, to everyone’s astonishment, not least my own, they passed me, and then it was just a matter of waiting for a commission to a ship when a vacancy for a lieutenant occurred. It helps speed things up if you have what’s euphemistically known in the service as “interest” – the support of senior people, but I have none.’

  Parkin was puzzled. ‘Yet your surname indicates a kinship with the great Admiral George Anson, does it not?’

  It was what he was always asked and he shook his head slowly and confessed: ‘Only a very distant kinsman, I fear, many times removed …’

  Nevertheless he was finding the evening’s conversation in such amiable company most entertaining and enjoyable.

  And although normally reticent about the rigours of life afloat when talking to ladies, Anson found himself cheerfully answering questions from Cassandra and her uncle on everything from flag signals to flogging.

  Cassandra was especially intrigued about the crowded living conditions at sea but supposed the wardrooms for officers must be palatial compared to the sardine-like crowding of the sailors.

  Anson laughed at the thought. ‘I fear I have yet to come across a wardroom anything like a palace in a ship of the line – and of course our frigates do not even run to a wardroom. Their officers inhabit the gunroom instead. But in the navy we grow used to living cheek by jowl and any rough edges one may start out with are very soon smoothed out!’

  While they were eating the conversation turned to food at sea and she again laughed charmingly on hearing that kippers were “Spithead pheasants” and tapioca pudding was known as “fishes’ eyes” in the navy. Out of delicacy Anson chose not to mention “babies’ heads” – the sailors’ slang for steak and kidney puddings.

  He also thought it wise not to stray to the consumption of rats by impoverished and half-starved midshipmen. She might be happy to observe her uncle dissecting them but, like him, would most likely draw the line at eating one, he surmised.

  The two men lingered talking for a while after she had left them to their port, and it was with some reluctance that he finally dragged himself away to get what sleep he could before the morrow’s journey.

  9

  A Neutral Officer

  Alone together in the coach next morning, Parkin cautiously enquired about Anson’s prospects.

  ‘I hope to make post – captain, that is. But after that, well, a naval career is something of a lottery dependent on a great many variables: whether or not you have influential friends on high – the “interest” that I mentioned; and luck, of course. Luck is everything. Some can go through their service without seeing any significant action, yet others—’

  ‘And, as you pointed out, Nelson is a case in point?’

  ‘Indeed, life at sea for him has been full of incident and his career is no doubt far from over yet. He is capable of more great deeds.’

  The old man asked: ‘I am intrigued to know what you will do after the navy?’

  Anson laughed. ‘Is there such a thing?’

  Parkin appeared not to notice the irony and asked: ‘I believe you mentioned that you were the Reverend Anson’s second son?’

  ‘That’s correct, sir. My brother Gussie will inherit, such as it is. The local squire has the advowson—’

  ‘The power to appoint the rector?’

  ‘Yes, my father owes his living and therefore his allegiance to the Brax family rather than the church itself. But why do you ask—?’

  Parkin put up his hands. ‘Merely my inquisitive nature, but no matter – let’s talk of happier things.’

  ‘Rats?’ Anson asked mischievously.

  ‘Why not rats, indeed, both ashore and afloat? And of the eternal search for the golden rivet!’

  ****

  At Chatham, Anson asked to be put down at the main gate and as they made their farewells he asked his host: ‘How can I begin to thank you, sir? You have truly been a Good Samaritan.’

  ‘Nonsense, my boy. My niece and I have much enjoyed your company and if the opportunity arises I trust you will call upon us again, in a less dramatic fashion, I hope. We country mice are starved of agreeable company.’

  Anson raised his hat. ‘I will indeed, sir. Please give Miss, er, Cassandra my compliments. I will write to you once I have joined my ship in the Mediterranean to record my thanks – and give account of what occurs after we part.’

  The old man was clearly touched. ‘That would give me a great deal of pleasure.’ And, waving farewell, he rapped his gold-topped cane on the carriage door and ordered his coachman: ‘Walk on!’

  ****

  The gatehouse guards showed little interest in Anson. To them he was just another officer among the many, and, rather than keeping visitors out, their chief duty was preventing dockyard workers making off with official stores.

  The guards directed Anson to the commissioner’s house where on arrival he was ushered immediately into the presence of Captain Wills.

  ‘Ah, Anson, isn’t it?’ Waving him to a chair, the captain enquired: ‘So you’ve not been well, but you’ve had a good long rest, I hope?’

  It would take too long to explain in any detail, so Anson responded: ‘Indeed, sir, and I am back to full strength and ready to be of service.’ He well knew he was stretching the truth in claiming to be fully fit, but this was not a time for sounding feeble.

  ‘Good
, good! Well, we have a role for you. I recall that you told Admiral Buckner you were willing to undertake any mission that might arise while waiting for the store-ship to take passage for the Med?’

  ‘Indeed, sir.’

  ‘Well, such a mission has arisen. May I take it that you have kept yourself up to speed with the so-called mutiny?’

  ‘I have, sir, insofar as one can glean a true picture from the news-sheets.’

  The captain grimaced. ‘Hmm, in my book there never was an inky-fingered gutter press scribbler who got the facts straight, but I suppose we can’t entirely blame them if we in the navy keep things close to our chests, eh? And it wouldn’t do for them to print the truth about our dispositions and whatnot and give the French valuable intelligence, would it now?’

  Anson smiled agreement. He had long since learned that most senior officers abhorred openness and favoured maintaining a silent service, no doubt for good reasons. He had heard that smugglers based in the Channel ports regularly took the latest newspapers across to France – for a price.

  Wills leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘Well, the latest situation is that the hotheads among the so-called delegates, led by that reprobate Parker, have been trying to persuade the rest to blockade London itself, or even to desert to the French, for God’s sake! They’ve been flogging any of their shipmates who’ve refused to join them, and now we hear they’re planning to take the ships to sea, although I doubt there’s enough support for that.’

  ‘I had heard of the blockade proposal, and that some are for deserting to the enemy. Either course would be a very serious escalation, would it not, sir?’

  ‘Just so, and many of the men know it. We have reliable information that a good number wish to un-mutiny or whatever the opposite to mutiny is. If they were sheep, which you could argue they are, it would be a case of returning to the fold …’

  ‘Indeed, sir.’

  ‘But they are afraid of what the other mutineers might do to them if they back out, and at the same time they are nervous of the reception they’ll get from us if they bring their ships in. Would we flog ’em or string ’em up from their own yardarms …?’

  He pondered for a moment as if imagining such a fate. ‘Only natural to worry about such things if you’ve been in a mutiny I suppose?’

  Anson nodded. ‘Quite understandable, sir.’

  ‘Put simply, they are damned if they do, and damned if they don’t. But some sensible men have bitten the bullet and offered to break free and turn themselves and their ship in. You know Euphemus?’

  ‘Only as one of our sixty-fours, sir.’

  ‘Well, now they’ve had a chance to stew in their own juice, sniffed the noose, seen the error of their ways and so forth, many of Euphemus’s people want to throw in the towel. They have sent a boat here to seek confirmation that the dockyard is not controlled by mutineers and that the ship will be received safely and not fired upon by shore batteries if she effects an escape. They are particularly nervous of the Sheerness batteries and all the yeomanry bumpkins milling around there, so have opted to come here.’

  ‘So, sir, what part do you wish me to play? Is it to help bring her in here, to Chatham?’

  ‘No, that could prove too tricky. Sheerness is far closer and I’ve given the men who’ve come here the admiral’s personal assurance that Euphemus will be welcomed back there with open arms.’

  ‘So …?’

  Wills smiled. ‘So, among the requests these un-mutineers have put is for an officer to be sent to help do just that ’

  Anson was puzzled. ‘But if they sent their officers ashore when the red flags were raised, the captain etcetera will be available to take command again?’

  ‘Ah, sadly that cannot be. The problem is that the men had become, shall we say, disenchanted with their officers. There are still some hotheads on board Euphemus and if one of their own officers returns, the whole mutiny thing could kick off again. No, what’s needed now is a neutral officer, someone not tainted by what’s occurred. In short, you …’

  Elbows on the desk, he clasped his hands together and fixed Anson with a not unfriendly stare. ‘You must be aware that this temporary command could well turn out to be a poisoned chalice. I cannot be certain that the rest of the ship’s company will welcome you on board, and even if you are able to break free from the other ships there is every possibility that some or all will open fire on you.’

  Anson shrugged. ‘Nevertheless, sir, I am happy to accept.’

  Wills smiled, obviously relieved that he had a willing volunteer. ‘Handsome of you, Anson! In all honesty I cannot exactly wish you joy of such a brief and tainted first command, but I can assure you that if you can pull this off it will not be forgotten. By-the-by, how’s your mythology?’

  ‘Sir?

  ‘Are you aware of the origin of Euphemus?’

  Anson pondered, trying to recall the Greek mythology learned from his classics-obsessed father. ‘Wasn’t he the helmsman for Jason and the Argonauts in their quest for the golden fleece?’

  Wills nodded. ‘Correct! He was a son of Poseidon and Europa and had the gift of moving over the sea so swiftly that his feet remained dry.’

  ‘I hope I manage to keep mine dry too, sir, but I daresay that’ll be tricky in a tidal river with mudflats and all. I have to confess I’m not the navy’s most able navigator or seaman, not by a long chalk—’

  ‘This is not about navigation or seamanship, Anson. What’s required in these circumstances is leadership.’

  ‘But do I take it that the sailing master is still on board and that I can talk to the boat’s crew before we leave?’

  ‘The sailing master is indeed on board, although I hear he’s a bit of an old woman, inclined to be overly cautious.’

  ‘That might not come amiss, sir.’

  The captain smiled. ‘You could be right. Anyway, let’s get to it. The boat’s crew are waiting nearby to meet you. I confess I have built up your reputation somewhat, near kin of the great Admiral Lord Anson and all that, but I’m confident you will measure up to it!’

  ****

  Captain Wills led the way to a private office where seven men were sitting round a table, evidently in earnest discussion. They made to rise as he entered but he waved them to sit.

  ‘This, men, is the Lieutenant Anson I was telling you about. He is a fine officer, a member of the great Admiral Anson’s family, and has been travelling while all this mutiny business has been going on, so he is, shall we say, untainted …’

  The men nodded and their leader said: ‘We’re obliged, sir.’

  Wills added: ‘The bosun, here, Mister Rook, has been appointed—’

  Rook interrupted: ‘Elected, sir.’

  The captain looked doubtful. Elections were not normally known in the navy and like all officers he was deeply suspicious of lower deck politicking. But he shrugged. ‘Very well, elected by the loyal men to lead them back to the paths of righteousness. I refer, of course, to their ship’s escape from the mutinous fleet.’

  Rook rose. ‘It’s true that I’ve been elected, sir, but I’d like to make it plain that I’m not what they’re calling “a delegate”. All the ships chose delegates to put their grievances forward when the mutiny kicked off, but I didn’t want to be one of them.’ This was understandable for a warrant officer of his standing.

  ‘Are the Euphemus delegates on board now?’ the captain asked.

  ‘No, sir. They are away at some meeting with Parker planning to blockade London, but the rest of us … well, most of us … want to jack it in and bring her in. That’s what I’ve been elected to do.’

  Anson sized the boatswain up and liked what he saw. Rook was a broad-shouldered man of a type he had come across many a time in his naval career: tough, alert, and – he believed – dependable. It was easy to understand why his shipmates had chosen him to lead them in the absence of their officers and the so-called delegates with whom they had become disenchanted.

  Captain Wills contin
ued: ‘Lieutenant Anson has offered to return to Euphemus with you and help you take her in to Sheerness, so are you still up for it?’

  Rook looked around at his nodding shipmates before speaking for them. ‘We are, sir.’

  ‘Good men! But understand this, who elected whom and for why is of no interest whatsoever to me. If this is to work you must accept Lieutenant Anson here as your leader, your temporary captain. A lot could go wrong in this venture and you and the loyal men back on board must accept his orders without question. Is that perfectly clear?’

  They exchanged glances again and Rook spoke for all. ‘Aye, sir, perfectly clear.’

  ‘Good. Now, I’ll say it again in front of this officer, just so’s we’re all singing from the same hymnbook. You have my personal assurance on behalf of the admiral himself that you won’t be fired on when you bring your ship in and that every man jack aboard will be given a pardon covering anything any of them might have done during the mutiny. Like at Spithead, it’ll apply to all who return to duty. One of the clerks is busy putting that on paper at this very moment and I’ll sign it for you to take with you just in case you need to convince any doubting shipmates.’

  They nodded their appreciation.

  ‘Good, then I’ll leave you to make your plans with Lieutenant Anson. But before I go let me say that much depends upon you. If you can bring Euphemus in safely I truly believe the mutiny will crumble and the navy will be able to get back to its rightful business of fighting the French. It’s not over-stating the case to say that the fate of our country lies in your hands.’

  They rose as he made to leave, and at the door he turned as if struck by an after-thought. He delved into his pocket for a small leather-bound book. ‘Anson, men, I almost forgot that I meant to remind you of Francis Drake’s prayer. You are all familiar with it, are you not?’

  Puzzled looks revealed that they were not, but Wills appeared not to notice. ‘It is most apt for men in your shoes …’

  He opened the book, cleared his throat and read: