Back on The Tempest the two men were kept busy inventorying the stores and new medicines that were delivered. The story of the operation flew around the ship and Shelby found he was an object of ship wide pride. When he asked Marty about that he was told, “Sailors are a funny lot and very loyal to their ship. You have added kudos to their world as they now have something to brag about which can elevate this ship above others. No doubt the tale will be embellished and enlarged in the telling until you could be attributed divine powers.”
Shelby looked horrified.
“Don’t worry Shelby, you will look good in a halo.” Marty joked.
All stores loaded and fresh water in the casks they set sail for Madeira. The wind was strong and from the Southwest which meant they were beating against it for several days before it swung more to the West. The sea was rough with big rollers pushing in from the West. This caused the ship to corkscrew as she made her way Southwest and sent both Fletcher and Shelby to their cabins with acute seasickness.
That ended abruptly, when a topman slipped when reefing a sail, was stopped from falling to the deck by the reefing line which had tangled around his wrist. The dislocated shoulder he got as a result meant that four of his fellow topmen had to manhandle him down to the deck. Once they got him below Shelby was rousted out of his cabin and found the topman’s watch arrayed around the victim looking at him with almost religious expectation.
He didn’t even realise his sickness had stopped, they gave him such a fright, but his professional self, kicked in and he went to work.
“What is your name?” he asked the man.
“Stanford Sir,” he answered through clenched teeth.
“Well Mr Stanford,” he continued as he examined the shoulder which stuck out at a very odd angle, “have you ever done this before?”
“No Sir.”
“Well we are going to have to put that back where it belongs.”
Shelby went to a chest, dug around a little and took out a wooden ball about four inches in diameter. He looked at the assembled men and pointing at the two biggest, asked them to hold the man around the chest and waist while he was sat on the floor. He then took the ball and placed it under the displaced arm in the armpit.
Taking a leather strap out of the chest he put it between Stanford’s teeth and told him to bite down. The ship gave another lurch causing them all to pause and when it settled Shelby told another hand to hold the ball in place while he took Stanford’s arm and manipulated it. He placed his foot on his ribcage and heaved back on the arm to pull it out, then using the ball as a pivot, got it lined up with the joint and allowed the shoulder to gently slide back into place with a slight pop.
Stafford never made a sound, but the tears were streaming down his face and he was soaked in sweat by the time it was over. Shelby then strapped his arm in place across his chest in a sling. It was all done between lurches.
“No climbing or hauling until that settles back into place,” he cautioned and gave Stafford a large glass of brandy. “You will have one hell of a bruise later,” he handed over a small jar of green paste, “you can rub some of this arnica ointment into it and that will help it heal.”
The men left, each one touching his forelock and saying. “Thank you, Sir.”
Chapter 24 The Last Leg
They reached Madeira and entered the port of Funchal, overlooked by an impressive fort. They again topped off their water and loaded up with fresh fruit and vegetables. Marty put the word out they were taking on men and they got another couple of experienced hands that had been left on the island for one reason or another.
The next leg was down to The Canaries which would be the last stop before the turned west and made for Tobago. At every stop Marty sent letters to Caroline, Miss Katy and his family. He didn’t expect to get any from home until he had been in the Caribbean for a while. They would call in at English harbour every now and then to see if any had arrived.
They arrived in Tenerife and called into Santa Cruz. Marty just wanted to make sure they had as much fresh food and water as possible for the crossing so it was as short a stop as he could make it before they set off.
In consultation with the master he had decided to sail to Cape Verde and pick up the North Equatorial Current rather than try and go straight across. The advantage being if the wind died, the current would carry them on.
They stayed within sight of the African coast following the Canary current and swung more west towards the islands. Marty didn’t want to stop there if they didn’t have to, he was violently opposed to slavery and Cape Verdi was a centre for the trade.
They had just made the turn to the West when a huge storm hit them. The wind was shrieking down from the Northeast and they could do nothing but run before it. The waves were enormous, and The Tempest was picked up by the stern as they rolled beneath her until they got to the crest then they felt as if they were sliding backwards down the back of the wave until they reached the trough.
The helmsmen were worked hard keeping the ship with the wind on its stern and not letting her get side on to the seas. At the top of the waves they were exposed to the full fury of the wind but in the troughs, they were shaded from the direct force and almost stopped.
The hull flexed and leaked so they were having to pump for four hours, twice a day to keep her dry. It was exhausting work and it seemed it would never end.
Shelby had a constant stream of minor injuries to deal with including the occasional broken limb, concussion or rupture. He overcame his seasickness and dealt with every case increasing his reputation, becoming something of a talisman. As long as Shelby was with them, they were invincible.
The storm raged for a week and by the time it ended they were far Southwest of their planned course somewhere off the coast of Brazil. Marty, James and the Master managed to get a noon sighting and they all recalculated it twice before they believed it. They were South of the equator!
They set a course due West and sailed until they picked up the coast then turned North. They came upon a town and entered the bay to ask its name. As soon as they dropped anchor a host of bum boats came out that were offering everything, from fruit to women, to the crew. Paul La Pierre walked around the sides and had his men positioned to make sure no alcohol or women came aboard.
Fletcher bought fruit and asked where they were. He reported back to Marty and the master that the town was called Recife. They both peered at the map in vain until Marty got a magnifying glass from his cabin and they both peered again.
The Master jabbed a finger on the map.
“There! That’s Recife.” he said.
He got out the dividers and measured of the distance. They had another two thousand seven hundred miles to go and if they could maintain ten knots that would take another twelve days. Realistically he knew it would be at least two weeks before they hit English Harbour.
“Tom! Get a watering party organised. Top up the butts we won’t be stopping again,” he said. There was a squeal and a splash, then a stream of Portuguese invective. Marty walked down the deck and looked over the side to where the noise was coming from. There was a rather pretty woman swimming towards a boat that was edging towards her. Marty looked around and saw John Smith leaning against the foremast cleaning his fingernails with his knife. He didn’t need to ask.
The watering party made several trips as they emptied the stale water from the casks and scoured them with sand before sending them to be filled. Once it was completed Marty set sail and they headed North. The easy thing to do would have been to follow the coast but Marty decided to ‘cut the corner’ and sail direct to Tobago then follow the islands up to Antigua.
The weather was kind with clear days and steady winds. The heat was something else and Shelby had multiple cases of sunburn to deal with. He had been told in Recife about a plant called Aloe which had a sap that soothed burns and cooled the skin. He had procured as much as he could much to the amusement of the crew, but they soon changed their tune when
he started applying the cooling sap to their blistered skin.
They first landfall was eleven days later, and they identified it as Tobago. They turned to a couple of points West of North and followed the islands staying on the Atlantic side.
Another five days saw them entering English Harbour and dropping anchor. They had arrived.
Epilogue
Back in England two old men sat in front of a fire and discussed the state of the war.
“We have the French bottled up in Brest and Toulon but it will only take a storm from the wrong direction and they will get out,” said Admiral Lord Hood.
“Yes, and we are still getting reports that Napoleon is building his troops up at the channel ports and they are building barges by the dozen” replied William Wickham. “They are still making those damn balloons as well.”
“Martin’s little bout of pyromania didn’t stop that then?” Hood asked.
“No, they just moved the places they make and inflate them away from the troop encampments.” Wickham sighed.
“Well as long as we command the seas between here and France they won’t invade, it would be suicide.” Hood observed and sipped his Brandy. “How is young Wellesley doing?”
“He has trumped that fellow Holkar and now the East India Company controls most of Southern India. He wrote that Martin did an excellent job and they have had very little trouble with pirates lately. Well none the Marine can’t handle anyway.” Wickham replied.
“Capital. Capital. By the way did you hear some Cornish fellow made a steam engine that could travel on the road?” Hood asked. “Damn fellow will be putting one in a ship next.”
“Yes, read it in the Times. Stupid thing blew up, wouldn’t do in a ship, and you wouldn’t get me on one if they did.” Wickham replied. “Have you heard from Martin?”
“Yes, he arrived in Madeira five weeks ago and was on his way to Antigua.”
Hood replied. “A toast. To the end of piracy in the West Indies! May Martin create confusion, mayhem and fire!”
The two drained their glasses and smiled at the thoughts the toast inspired.
“Another Brandy?” Wickham asked.
Author’s Note
It was fun writing this episode of Marty’s adventures as I had to research what was happening in India at the time and try and build a story around it. Why wasn’t it set in Europe? Well the problem with peace, or even impending peace is that not a lot happens in a military or even intelligence sense so I had to send Marty somewhere he would have something interesting to do. It gave me an excuse to put in some Indian food which I love. I also wanted to expand Caroline’s role as well as the number of children. You can’t go at it like those two do without it having consequences!
Arthur Wellesley is an interesting character. He has a reputation for being an unmitigated snob and having no time for the filthy lower classes. But that is in direct contradiction to his abilities as a military leader. He prided himself on not wasting his men’s lives and for making sure he had the logistics of every campaign worked out before he started. You don’t win wars with sick or starving men and no ammunition. He could also spot talent when he saw it. In the end I am happy with my version of him.
Returning to England at the resumption of the war he learned that command is not always easy, and that failure has its consequences. The Navy was intolerant of failure or shyness in combat. It had built its reputation on ruthless aggressiveness.
Finally, I would just like to say thank you to all of those who pre-ordered this book you give me the energy to keep writing.
Please check out the website, you can chat to me there or on The Dorset Boy Facebook page. I will always answer as soon as I can.
And now! A short preview of book 5
Book 5 – The Tempest
Chapter 1 Unhappy landings
The Tempest dropped anchor in English Harbour and Marty looked around in surprise it was just a Navy base and it stank! The lagoon was as filthy as a cesspit with the accumulated sewage from a couple of thousand people and the debris from careened warship hulls. There was no current and very little tide, so the filth just stayed there. Shelby is the only one who will enjoy stopping here. He thought as he saw the Physician at the rail taking notes.
Marty and his new ship, The Tempest, had been tasked to investigate, infiltrate and disrupt the pirate activity that had recently surged in the Caribbean. The Tempest was a former Navy Jackass Frigate, which was, to all intents and purposes, a Sloop of War with a raised quarterdeck. They had fitted her with bigger guns and carronades including two twenty-four-pound chasers, a natty set of red sails and a crew of one hundred and fifty men for the trip over to the Caribbean. His main concern now was to boost that to around two hundred.
He had left his wife, Lady Caroline Candor, behind in England with their two children. He had brought his dog Blaez with him who was sat beside him on the quarterdeck sniffing the air not quite sure if he liked the smell or not.
Where were all the people and a town? I should have done more research, he thought with a mental grimace I’m not going to find more crew here.
He consulted with Tom and James and decided to talk to the Yard Commissioner. He was one of their contacts for passing reports through and was appointed by the Navy Board. Admiral Hood had told them that the Honourable Francis Chapman was the current incumbent and he had written to him asking for his assistance.
Marty had the boys take him over in the gig, Tom joked that he could have walked the water was so thick with shit and made his way up the hill to the Clarence House the home of the Commissioner. He knocked on the door and a black house slave answered it. Marty asked to see the commissioner and was shown into what was obviously a waiting room. At least its cooler in here he thought as he sat and waited.
After an hour, during which he wasn’t offered refreshments, he was ushered into an office. It was functional but he noticed that the cut glass decanter set and glasses on the sideboard was very good quality but a little too flashy for good taste. There was a picture of King George was pretty standard but the gilt frame too loud.
He was brought to attention by a cough and turned to see a man in an outdated powdered wig stood behind the desk, which was also a little ostentatious in its carving.
“Mr Chapman, I am pleased to meet you,” he said as he stepped forward holding out his hand. “Martin Stanwell at your service.”
The man didn’t take the offered hand but replied as he sat down.
“Mr Chapman succumbed to fever some two months ago I am Seymour Owen. I am acting commissioner until the Navy Board either makes me permanent or designates another to the post,” he said with a hint of bitterness in his voice.
Marty took an instant dislike to the man, which was unusual as he normally waited to form an opinion before judging. But his offhand manner and rudeness rankled with Marty’s sense of correctness.
“Mr Chapman had been in contact with Admiral Lord Hood I believe concerning my, aah, business here. Did he mention anything about it to you?” Marty enquired, caution making him reticent.
Owen made a show of shuffling some papers.
“Why would Lord Hood be sending messages here about you?” he asked.
Alarm bells were going off in Marty’s head, so he procrastinated.
“I am sponsored by the old fellow. He got me my letter of marque and helped fund my expedition.”
“Letter of marque you say? Then you are a privateer?” Owen replied suddenly looking sly.
“Why yes,” Marty replied. “Mr Chapman was to help me send my reports back to Admiral Hood so he could keep abreast of our progress.”
“Please sit Mr Stanwell we have some business to discuss.”
In Dangerous Company: The Dorset Boy Book 4 Page 19