“Very well, thank you Justin.”
“Did I hear you and her Ladyship will be supping together this evening sir?” Wetherby asked.
“Yes, you did.”
“Shall I signal Justify sir?” He meant, shall I send a signal for Edward Courtenay to attend as well.
“No, I do not think that would be a good idea at the moment.” said Courtenay at the risk of upsetting his wife. “He is new to the brig, and he needs the company to get to know him and accept him as one of them. Might be better for him to dine aboard the flagship later on, if he has time.”
Jessica looked concerned. “Is he going to be very busy?”
“I suspect he will. The brig can get to places that even a frigate cannot. She, and the schooner, are going to be my eyes.”
She looked doubtful for a moment, then Fenwick suddenly found he had duties, and Trafford mumbled something about cleaning his cutlass, so they were soon alone.
Despite the fact Britain was supposed to be at peace, when the squadron set sail the following morning, it soon settled into the kind of formation that was familiar to all the Captains and their companies. With Dolphin setting her fore and aft rig as soon as she was clear of local shipping, she was well ahead of the others, on her way to deliver despatches to Gibraltar. Justify was well ahead of the squadron also, having taken up position off Bembridge early in the morning, and as the squadron cleared that point and headed down Channel, Harry Coles took his frigate off to windward, leaving the flagship ahead of a small line comprising the other two frigates. Martin Stevens, as the senior frigate Captain was immediately astern of the Flag, with Arrow bringing up the rear.
Giles Courtenay sat in his cabin, on the stern seat, cradling a last cup of coffee in his hands and remembering the previous evening. He and Jessica had dined well on the fare that Kingston produced and it had been quite late when they had finally had to part company. This time, however, she was taken ashore in Courtenay’s barge with Alex Trafford at the tiller, and its crew dressed in their best clothing. There was a cheer from the duty watch as she went down into the barge, and she waved to everyone as the barge sped away.
He picked up the chart again and looked at Balathia. There was a fair coastline to patrol, but patrol it the squadron had to. That was the only way in which they could hope to catch any ship which might try to get ashore again. The coastline was one hundred and fifty odd miles long. The river Bimara, and the town of the same name, were roughly one hundred miles from the north west point where the Kingdom bordered the adjoining country. He knew nothing about that place, but he could imagine a notation on his chart ‘There be cannibals!” He smiled briefly at the thought. Cannibals certainly existed, but they were very clearly not the people causing the present threat to the peace and safety of the Kingdom of Balathia. As he thought of that, his mind turned to the question of the ‘Colonial Officer’ Spencer-White. He did of course know that somehow the man had got away with the attempted attack on Jessica the previous year, and that he had tried to wheedle his way back into some branch of Government. Perhaps this was the last attempt by his family to find him something. He smiled broadly. Perhaps they were so tired of him this was one way of getting him out of their hair! He had been told to deal with this Peter Minter, because he was the man that really did everything, and he found he could easily accept that would be the case. So be it. He would ignore Spencer-White as much as he could.
There was a rap of the Marine sentry’s musket butt on the deck outside the cabin and the call, “Flag-captain, sir!” then the screen doors were opened and Fenwick came in.
“Everyone on station sir. Wind from the nor’west, good and steady. All sail conformable with weather, as you directed.”
“Good, have you time for some coffee?”
Fenwick smiled. “I should imagine so. Mr Irvine is on deck, and he seems a capable fellow.” He sat down and took a mug from Kingston. He smiled. “I see you have still not been persuaded that Admirals should drink their coffee from dainty little cups Giles?”
Courtenay snorted. “No, and I never will be.”
“Jess looked extremely well.” Fenwick said, looking at his friend over the rim of his mug. Everyone, including the usual cabin sentries, had received clear instructions the Admiral and his Lady were not to be disturbed whilst they supped.
“She was, thank you James. I hope her being aboard for a while did not cause any resentment among the lads. After all, they cannot see their loved ones.”
“She endeared herself to them the moment she came up the entry port stairs like a sailor. Believe me Giles, she can do no wrong in their eyes after that! It was good to see her again.”
Yes, I certainly did not expect to see her until we return, whenever that will be. Now then James, I wish to discuss with you our dispositions when we reach Balathia. I intend that the frigates will cruise the shoreline from boundary to boundary. The schooner I intend at least to begin with, will carry out a short survey as to how much further she could reach up the river. As to Justify I think I might use her to liaise with the schooner along the river, but I suspect in the end I might use her further out as an additional guard-ship. We will have to see, and make decisions as and when necessary. My flagship, your ship, is going to be of little use for our patrols, but, having said that, she might come in useful if ever we discover what is going on. In the meantime, she will be useful to show how serious HMG is taking this matter.”
“You mean how serious the Government is taking it because there are diamond mines involved?” asked Fenwick, smiling slightly.
“So cynical, young James. You are, however, absolutely right! It is those mines the Government is most worried about. The diamonds provide a very good source of income. Mind you, King Khalfani does very well out of it as well. By the way, do you speak Swahili?”
Fenwick spluttered on the coffee he was drinking. “No, I do not! Neither do you!”
“I am told a good part of the population speaks it, and many, courtesy of Missionaries, also speak some English, but we have to rely on this man Minter to assist., He is, I am told, fluent.”
James Fenwick raised his mug. “Then here is to the good Mr Minter!”
The Straits of Gibraltar were long behind. HM schooner Dolphin had lived up to her name in reaching the important Naval base in record time, swooping across the Atlantic rollers off the French and then Spanish and Portuguese coasts before swinging round to the east and heading for the Colony. Now, she was once again ahead of her squadron, although within signalling distance of the brig Justify which in turn was in visual contact with the rest of the squadron. She reported through Justify that the African coast was in sight, and awaited instructions, which were not long in coming. The squadron had sailed around the western tip of the continent, skirting the Canary Islands to the east and now heading eastwards towards the Kingdom of Balathia.
Captain James Fenwick turned as he heard the footsteps of his Admiral, and before even there could be a polite cough from the duty Master’s Mate. “Good morning sir. Course roughly sou’east, wind steady from the nor’east, and we are making about six knots. Justify has just repeated a signal from Dolphin that she is in sight of the coast and is requesting instructions.”
“Good morning James. Good meal last night.”
“Yes, it was, but please remind me not to play cards with you and your Flag-lieutenant too often. The pair of you are too damn good for my liking!”
“Now now Captain Femwick, you were partnered by our Major of Marines, were you not?”
“Yes, and he is a damn good player but…”
“But nothing. You were unlucky, and next time it might be different! Now then, if Dolphin is requesting instructions we had better give her some. Where is that Flag-lieutenant of mine? Ah, here he is. Good morning Mr Wetherby. How are you this fine morning?”
“As well as can be expected sir, when you force all that claret on me. Orders sir?”
Justin Wetherby had learned well just how far he co
uld go with his Admiral, and the fact he was attempting a smile at the same time, made Courtenay and Fenwick know the humour behind the words.
“Yes, Flags. make to Justify repeated to Dolphin that she is to close the shoreline and follow it to our destination. Then you may signal our brig to remain on the present course, and to execute her previous orders.”
“Aye aye sir.”
The previous orders to Commander Pountney were to the effect that when the schooner altered her course to run along the shoreline, she would continue on the course that would bring her and Dolphin together at the mouth of the River Bimara. Both ships would then wait for the rest of the squadron to arrive.
On Justify Jonathan Pountney turned to his lieutenant and commented, “There goes Enderby then. He is to work his way close and run down the shoreline. We will have to remain on this course Edward and meet up with him down at the mouth of that river.”
“The Bimara sir. We have a trading post of some kind on the north side, is that correct?”
Jonathan Pountney smiled. It was almost like listening to the Vice-admiral. “Yes, that is correct. More than a ‘kind’ of trading post, young Edward. It is, I gather, fairly substantial with some houses for the officials who live and work there. According to my pack, it has quite good fortifications and some stout defences.”
“I see sir. Sorry sir. I rather gained the impression, especially since a certain Spencer-White is the so-called Colonial Officer there, that it might be a little place of not much consequence, despite our trading relationship with the King.”
“Now now Edward, you should not talk of our Country’s representatives in such a fashion, even if they are scarcely deserving of the post they occupy!” He looked sideways at his lieutenant, who had raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Edward, I know all about Marmaduke Spencer-White, have no fear. My brother saw fit to tell me all about him one evening. We will all have to keep our eyes on that man, I can see that. Now then, I think the port foretopsail brace needs attention, would you not agree?”
The Hon. Edward Courtenay whirled round to look at the ever so slightly slack brace and rapped out his orders, firmly but without fuss. Pountney looked at his back and nodded once or twice. He then saw the young Sailing Master look at him and winked. It was a happy ship.
On Alexander, Courtenay was getting irritated. He hated having to travel so slowly, although he had long grown used to the two-deckers he had commanded and the fact they could not whip along like the frigates and smaller craft. He envied his son aboard the lively brig, and perhaps even more the young schooner Captain who would soon have his ship close to the shore and be keeping a careful watch for anything untoward. He paced up and down the lee side of the quarterdeck and every so often glanced at Martin Stevens’ Miranda, now to starboard and watching the squadron’s flank. He was still unused to the fact Britain was supposed to be at peace with almost everyone, and he knew everyone else felt the same, after so many years of being conditioned to act in a certain way. Safety came first, despite the fact strictly speaking the squadron had no enemies, so a frigate was retained to guard the flank. During the cruise to the south, he had replaced the guard frigate regularly, and now Tiger was at the rear of the short column, with Arrow immediately astern of the Flag.
He saw Trafford come on to the deck with a mug of coffee, and stride towards him. “Coffee sir? Kingston thought you might like some.” He looked over the starboard side and saw the lean frigate cruising along through the dark blue water. “Smart looking craft, that Miranda. Cap’n Stevens looks to be handling her well. Still remember him as a Middie!”
“H’mm, quite a coincidence Alex. Miranda is also the name of his ladyfriend. He hopes to marry her when we return home, whenever that will be.”
“Didn’t know he ‘ad a ladyfriend sir!”
Courtenay smiled. “Neither did I until he told me. Seems he has known her for some time. Only just plucked up the courage to ask her to marry him!”
“Well, I wishes him all the best in that case, cos he might need it!”
“Howso?”
Trafford smiled broadly at the use of the expression because in fact Courtenay had not used it for some time. “Well, its all right for you sir. You ‘ave a fine lady. Ain’t none better than Miss Jessica, and your children, well, you knows what I think o’ them, but not all women are the same, after all. Tough being married to a sailorman, sir, officer or not.”
“Is that why you have never married Alex? You would not wish to impose that on a young lady?”
“Bless you no sir. Never really found anyone I wanted to settle down with. Had plenty of chances though I suppose!”
“Yes, that is what I understand!”
Back on Justify with all sails set and drawing well, it was not taking too long for her to start overhauling the schooner was which was close in to the shore and looking into various bays and coves, making sure there was not someone there that should not be. Pountney was conscious of the fact and decided to take in some of his ship’s sails. The brig’s progress slowed and as evidence they were not far from the meeting point, the look-out yelled down that he had the schooner and the coastline in sight..
“H’mm, we are still going to get there first. Mr Piper? Alter course to the south and then we will tack and run back in for the rendezvous.”
“Aye aye sir.”
With the wind roughly nor’east, the brig came round more to the south and commenced what Pountney hoped would be a short tack to waste some time before heading for the junction with their schooner. For a while the look-out lost sight of the shoreline and the schooner, then the ship tacked again and with the yards braced sharp up, started to run in towards the mouth of the river to meet with Dolphin.
Before the look-out could announce he had spotted the schooner again, all those on the quarterdeck heard a sound that was unmistakeable. Pountney looked up, and Edward Courtenay, who had just come on deck for his watch, turned and looked ahead of their bowsprit, then strode to his Captain’s side. “That is gunfire sir!” he said. Pountney nodded.
“Yes, from the bearing I would say someone has fired on Dolphin. Very well Mr Courtenay, set the courses and then beat to quarters and prepare for action. We will go and see who has opened fire on us!”
Courtenay looked at him, and Pountney noticed the glint in his eyes. “Should we not report back to my…to the Admiral sir, and request instructions?”
“By then it might be too late, if, as I suspect, our schooner is under attack. What would the Admiral do Mr Courtenay, do you think, if he were here instead of me?” He shook Edward Courtenay’s arm. “Be honest Edward, I will not think ill of you.”
Courtenay smiled. “He would do what you have suggested sir. He would consider it far more important you investigated and ascertained what was happening before making a vague report and asking, ‘What shall I do?’”
“Exactly, so we will investigate, but not without being ready for anything we have to deal with. Chop, chop Mr Courtenay sir, we have work to do!”
THREE
H.M. brig Justify very slightly changed tack so that she was running more directly for roughly where Pountney judged Dolphin to be. As she did so, because Pountney knew they were just in contact with Tiger he gave instructions to the signals party to report to the Flag.
“Make to Flag repeated Tiger. . Gunfire heard, Suspect Dolphin under attack. Will investigate and report.” He turned to Edward Courtenay. “That ought to keep them happy on the flagship. Now then, Mr Courtenay, you may load and run out.. I am not taking any chances.”
“Aye aye sir.” With that Edward Courtenay was down onto the gun-deck in a trice, issuing his orders and watching as lashings were cast off and the guns were made ready for firing. On his small quarterdeck, Pountney had his glass levelled and saw the schooner swim into the lens, just as her mainmast went, collapsing onto the slender deck and over the side, He moved the glass to the right and saw a lean dark blue ship exiting the river mouth, her starboard gunports open an
d smoke appearing from her guns as she fired another salvo. The ship showed no colours. He closed the glass with a snap, and turned to the Midshipman next to him. “Damme Mr South, damme me. Run up the colours lad, quick as you like. Then make to the Flag repeated Tiger, Enemy in sight. Am engaging.” He looked down at the gun-deck and saw the preparations for battle were almost complete.
“It would appear some miscreant has fired on our schooner. No colours showing. Schooner has lost her main, and she looks to be in a bad way. We will not have much time Mr Courtenay. One broadside, our seven against what may be ten at least, and then we will be past, but I want that broadside to count, you hear me?”
Edward Courtenay waved by way of reply and swung back his men. “Open ports! Run out!”
On the flagship, they had also heard the gunfire, even though the wind was blowing the sound away, then they saw the signals flags appear on Tiger and Justin Wetherby was already in the port shrouds with his glass to read the hoists. He turned to see his Admiral watching him intently. “From Justify repeated Tiger Dolphin has been fired on sir. Commander Pountney says he is investigating.” He looked again. “Another signal from Justify sir. Enemy in sight. Am engaging. Orders sir?”
“Acknowledge.” snapped Courtenay. “Captain Fenwick, I will trouble you to set all available sail. Mr Wetherby? Make to Tiger, Investigate reports from Justify and report to the Admiral.”
“Aye aye sir.”
The signals party, harried by the Midshipman in charge, rushed to locate and bend the flags onto the halliards, then watched as they soared aloft and broke to the wind. Harry Coles, on Tiger, had been anticipating such orders and both Courtenay and Fenwick smiled broadly as extra sails appeared within a scant second of the signal and the frigate crammed on speed to follow the brig into the bay.
On Justify, all was set. Pountney was satisfied in his own mind that the dark blue ship was an old French corvette. Very similar in size to a British sloop-of-war, and he had seen plenty of them during his service. He had even had a hand in capturing one during the last stages of the recent war, which was how he had come by his appointment. He spoke to Courtenay on the gun-deck. “She’s a frog corvette, Mr Courtenay, if ever I saw one. I can count she is pierced for twenty guns. She is coming straight out of the river mouth. I wonder if he knows there is a channel out of the river, with shoals and a sandbar to one side? Let us hope not, eh? She is coming straight towards us at the moment, but she may change tack. All ready Mr Courtenay?”
Courtenay and the Mercenaries Page 3