Courtenay and the Mercenaries

by Brian Withecombe

  The officer in charge of the battery on the north side of the anchorage looked lazily out to sea. All he could see initially was the usual deep blue of the water, with the sun shimmering on the waves that rolled against the low headland. There had been no excitement here for a long time, and the only break in the monotony had been a few days ago when the smart looking brig wearing no colours had slipped into the roadstead, and he had found out that even she was only seeking to replenish supplies. There was of course the Spanish Naval frigate, which had been enjoying his country’s hospitality for some time. Now and then she would slip away, only to return a few days later. There had been the incident involving a blue ship which apparently had angered the country’s foreign Minister more than the King himself, but if the wise, great Solomon was angry, that was good enough for anyone else. He was not a man to be argued with. The man watching the sea might be an officer in the King’s Army, but he still believed in the old ways and customs and Solomon was not one to shrink from making use of them for his own purposes. He shivered for some reason as he thought of the man, and turned his gaze more to the south, to the other side of the wide anchorage.

  Then he froze.

  He could see a small ship heading towards him from the south west, and she seemed to be in a hurry. There was something of a low mist out to sea, but even as he looked the mist seemed to quiver and there was the sound of a cannon, followed shortly by a plume of water rising to one side of the ship he was looking at. He soon realised the small ship was the one which had paid his country a visit just a few days ago. Then he realised that she was being chased by another ship. More sounds of explosions rent the air and two waterspouts formed this time to the other side of the fleeing ship. Now he could see the ship more closely, he could see that she had suffered some damage aloft, but he was still making good speed, and he found himself willing the small ship on, although he had no idea as yet as to who the attacker was. Nonetheless….He turned and started shouting orders that brought some of his Militia men out of their huts, looking around to see what the excitement was about.

  “Move you idlers! Get the guns ready for firing! Come on, come on, otherwise the King will know of my displeasure with you!”

  Wide of eye, most of them were scared of anything the King might do if he was angered, and if it was not him, it would be Solomon, so they pulled on their clothing and hurried to their stations. A man stepped up and raised a battered brass trumpet, making the call that alerted the other battery, if they had not seen for themselves. Another man pulled at the halliards at a flagpole and the national flag was hauled to the top.

  The brig was now tacking again to enter the roadstead, then the anchorage, and even as she did so, she was bracketed by two more waterspouts that sprang up out of the deep blue sea. The water fell lazily back and the ship charged on, seemingly untouched. Then he could see the other ship, larger than the one being chased, with a white flag streaming from one of its yardarms. He raised his ancient telescope, a present from his late father, and looked at the chasing ship. It swam into view, then he saw there was a red cross on the white flag. He lowered the glass for a moment, thought, and then his face cleared as he remembered. It was a British Naval flag, and the King had decreed that no British ships were to enter Mondianian waters. He turned to his men and issued his instructions clearly and calmly. “Standby to open fire on that British ship.”

  The others turned and looked at him as if he were mad. Fire on a British ship! The most powerful Navy in the world they had heard of, and admittedly their knowledge was somewhat limited, and their officer wanted them to fire on one of its ships?

  “Don’t look at me you idiots! Prepare to fire on that ship! She is the King’s enemy, and you will fire on it! Now, turn the guns and be ready to fire on my word!” The guns were traversed to the officer’s liking, the men serving them looking at each other as if they might not see each other ever again, which might be the case if the might of the Royal Navy was unleashed against them. The officer raised his right arm. And brought it down. “Fire!”

  Down on what was now called the Pollyana, Courtenay and Hawkins/Smith were approaching the roadstead and looking astern at the frigate Arrow, which had been partly shrouded in the low sea mist, and automatically ducked as she fired one of her bowchasers. The ball sang overhead and plunged down into the sea wide on the port side. There was ‘damage’ aloft on the small ship, damage that had been done deliberately by Fardon’s men: damage that did not harm her passage through the water, but which would be consistent with being shot at by a pursuer. They started as there was the double explosion of both bowchasers being fired and this time the balls plunged into the water on the other side.

  Hawkins/Smith turned to Courtenay and said perfectly calmly, “I do hope sir that Mr Jackson (Arrow’s Gunner) has his aim and ranges right, especially since we are about to tack into the roadstead.”

  “Yes, Mr Smith, I share your hope!” said Trafford from the wheel. “I really does!”

  “Standby to go about!” yelled Courtenay to the men at the braces. “Trafford, put the helm down. Hands to the braces there! Let go and haul my lads!”

  The wheel went over, the yards were dragged round and the brig settled on her new course, just as two more balls slammed into the sea around them, one each side. There was a curse from one of the men on the braces as spray burst over the side and drenched him. “Bloody ‘ell, that were far too close for my likin’! Easy on Mr Jackson sir!”

  By the wheel Courtenay and Hawkins/Smith exchanged grins. Arrow’s First-lieutenant looked at Courtenay as he turned back to watch the frigate and found himself wondering for what had to be the hundredth time what on earth the Admiral himself was doing being here and sharing all the dangers when he could have detailed off someone else. Trafford, looking at him briefly as he then looked up at the sails, saw the look and smiled. He knew exactly what the young Lieutenant was thinking.

  Then they heard the guns from the battery firing and turned to watch the balls fall into the sea well short of the advancing frigate. There was another blast a few moments later and they got closer, but the frigate was bearing up, turning away. Just then another gun fired and Hawkins/Smith started as he saw his ship’s foretopyard suddenly collapse and drop towards the deck. A lucky ball had struck it at a point between the foremast and the yard’s tip and cut off the last few feet. Then the guns would not bear as the frigate slipped past the low headland and into safer waters. Courtenay let out a sigh of relief, as did Hawkins/Smith.

  “I think we will anchor away from the Spaniard Mr Smith.” said Courtenay calmly. “I do not wish them to be too close to us this time, for obvious reasons.”

  “Aye aye.” Hawkins/Smith turned away to bellow his orders and the brig came into what wind there was with the anchor dropping into the water once it had come to a rest.

  On Arrow, Priestley also let out a sigh of relief as they passed out of range of the batteries, not that the one on the other low headland had actually fired at them. He looked up at the damaged yardarm and saw the Bosun already sending men aloft to start the repairs. Priestley, like any other wise Captain, had made sure he had a supply of spare spars before they left England, and although the sail and the yard would have to be sent down, he was confident with his team of professionals the new yardarm would be in place and the sail re-hung from it in short order. He looked down at the main deck and saw the Gunner walking back from where he had been supervising the firing of the bow chasers. “Mr Jackson! Lay aft if you please.”

  Jackson came up the ladder to the quarterdeck and knuckled his head to the Captain. He thought for a moment he had done something wrong, but then his Captain’s face broke into a smile and he thrust out his right hand. “That was excellent shooting Mr Jackson. And I am sure the Admiral would make the same sentiment if he were here. I am most grateful to you.”

  “Got a mite close with that last one, but the Admiral turned ‘er a bit sharp like!”

  “He wished to make it appea
r realistic Mr Jackson, and that you did. Ensure the bow chasers’ crews receive an extra tot if you please.”

  “Aye aye sir.” Jackson disappeared down the ladder.

  Priestley turned as Clayton came onto the quarterdeck. “All guns secured sir.” The Third-lieutenant reported. He chanced his luck. “Do you think it worked sir?”

  Priestley smiled pleasantly at the young officer, who had showed great presence of mind when he had boarded Mary Jane. “I sincerely hope so Mr Clayton, I really do. At least I will not have to explain the loss of the Admiral should anything go awry. That will be down to Captain Fenwick, whom, I am given to understand is not unfamiliar with our Admiral’s rather unorthodox ways!”

  “It is rather odd, to say the least sir, to see an Admiral place himself in such a position of danger.” commented Clayton.

  Priestley rubbed his chin. “I agree, but it seems that Vice-admiral Courtenay is not your usual type of Admiral.” He nodded to Clayton. “Very well, the deck is yours. You know the course to steer now to meet with the flagship, so let me know when we are in sight.”

  “Aye aye sir.”

  On Pollyana, aka Mary Jane the anchor had been let go, and the ship was now secure. Hawkins/Smith said without turning round to look at Courtenay, “Boat shoving off from the jetty. Seem to be some soldiers aboard.”

  “Ah, that will be our friend collecting rent for dropping anchor in their roadstead. Very well, I shall see to him when he arrives, but no-one is allowed on board. If necessary, I will hoist the Yellow Jack.” The yellow flag was the signal for fever aboard. Keep away!

  Trafford , leaning against the wheel, said casually, “I think that Spanish chap is going to come a-calling as well. Looks like they are lowering a boat.”

  “Thank you Alex. Peron is not coming aboard this time. I have no wish that he should see our extra cargo!” The ‘extra cargo’ was the seamen and Marines from Alexander which Captain Priestley had had aboard his frigate until the last meeting. “He might be a tad suspicious!” Hawkins/Smith laughed and Trafford grinned broadly.

  The boat with the soldiers did indeed include the officer Courtenay had seen before and he did indeed come to seek payment of what he described as his King’s dues. Courtenay went down the short ladder to his boat and haggled a settlement with him. The soldier never uttered a word about why the ship had returned. He simply smiled his huge white-toothed smile and said, “I am most glad we were able to assist you in avoiding the damned British! You are welcome again. Perhaps you will be allowing your men ashore? Many places for them to visit in our beautiful little town?”

  He meant the bars and the brothels. “I shall decide about that later. In the meantime, we have repairs to carry out.”

  “Of course. Goodbye Captain.”

  About half an hour later, the boat from the Senora de Fuentes came alongside, and clearly Peron expected the same kind of welcome as he had on the last occasion. He started up the ladder, but stopped when Courtenay appeared at the entry port. “I regret I cannot invite you aboard Captain, but the fact of the matter is that we have a lot of work to do to put the ship back to rights after our little fight with that damned British frigate. Perhaps when they have been completed?”

  “I understand Capitaine, but tell me, because I have an insatiable appetite for information, how did you come across the British ship. I thought you were heading south?”

  “Quite right. We did. She must have been on patrol down there. We came across her and she insisted she wanted to board us and look for slaves. I refused on the basis this is an American ship and she had no right to do so. Her Captain, damn his eyes, insisted, but his ship was not that well handled and we were able to slip past her using an old trick I learnt a long time ago. By the time they sorted themselves out, we were well away, but they gave chase. In the dark we changed course a number of times and I thought we had lost her, but this morning there was a bit of a sea-mist and then there she was again. The course I had taken brought us back this way, so I thought the best place was somewhere the British are not welcome. We took some damage in the process, as you can see. If you will excuse me Captain, there is work to be done.”

  “Of course, of course. Perhaps when the work has been finished, you would do me the honour of allowing me to entertain you aboard my ship? Away from home we may be, but I have an excellent supply of good Spanish vino and there are good supplies of fresh meat to be had ashore, so I can assure you a feast to remember!”

  “I would be most happy to oblige Captain Peron. I shall send a message when I feel it would be convenient, if that is in order?”

  Peron bowed slightly as he dropped back into his boat. “Of course. Adios amigo!”

  Courtenay stepped back from the side and looked at Hawkins/Smith. “He will be getting a visit from me sooner than he thinks, but not in the way he envisages!”

  The attack he had planned was timed to take place on the next moonless night, which would be shortly. That should allow time for Alexander to get into position to drop off her boats for the attacks on the batteries. The second part of the operation was over, the next part was due to begin.

  On the 98-gun Alexander a junction had been made with the Arrow, and James Fenwick had spoken briefly to Priestley as the frigate was lying-to under the flagship’s lee. He had heard Priestley say he had chased the brig into Mondiana’s roadstead and had taken some damage in the process, which had been repaired. He had also spoken with Lieutenant Law of the Dolphin who was probably now almost back at Balathia to collect Peter Minter in accordance with his instructions. He looked at his Senior, Henry Irvine, and gave a small smile. “Well, Henry, it would appear all is according to plan…at the moment. We will be at the point soon where the boats will leave us. I will not ask if you have any questions, because I know you now well enough to know that had you had any, you would have asked them!”

  “Yes sir. Our part in the operation is all clear. Major Berisford will take half his bullocks and a party of seamen and attack the nearest batteries. I will take the other half and some more of our lads and attack the other. No noise, and the Admiral has made it very clear that he wants nothing more serious than a few sore heads.”

  “Yes, but take no chances. However, it is important that there is no noise. Silence them quietly.”

  “I understand sir.”

  Under cover of darkness, the flagship came to a rest off the coastline of Mondiana, and out of sight of the land. She was roughly halfway across the bay formed by the two low headlands, so that the boats’ crews would have the same distance to row on each side. Irvine was about to go down into the launch which would take him ashore when Fenwick ran lightly down the starboard ladder and held out his hand. “Take care Mr Irvine. No heroics now. I wish to have you back aboard safely.”

  Irvine smiled. “Thank you sir.”

  The third part of the operation was about to begin, closely followed by the fourth.

  On Pollyana, Courtenay was checking his time-piece whilst Trafford loaded two pistols for him. His cutlass was in place, on the end of a broad leather cross-belt. He smiled his thanks, took his pistols, and thrust them through the bright blue sash that was around his waist. Trafford hefted his own sharp as a razor cutlass and looked from Courtenay to Hawkins/Smith, who had sported a bright green bandana around his head.

  “Sorry Mr Smith sir, you still don’t look like any kind of pirate I’ve ever seen!” said Trafford.

  “Never mind Trafford, I am sure my credentials as a buccaneer will not be called for this evening!”

  “If Captain Fenwick is in place, which I am sure he is, my flagship should be a couple of miles off the coastline and the boats should be on their way.” said Courtenay. “We will give the men aboard the Spaniard time to get their heads down, especially since it appears many of them went ashore this evening and came back in very good spirits and then go. Alex, we will head directly for the frigate, so the other boats can leave before us as they have further to row. Mr Smith, you will head for t
he bows, and disarm the anchor watch. make sure they are well secured. I wish this to be done with no noise, apart from any noise we can make that would appear to the townspeople is as a direct result of the crew’s carousing in town.”

  “I understand sir.”

  In the meantime, on the low headland to the south-west of where the brig was lying, Lieutenant Henry Irvine was ashore and checking his men. There was not a great distance to go before they reached the position of the battery, and he had already sent two Royal Marines to ensure there were no sentries to dispose of. One came back, panting from running.

  “All clear sir. I left my mate to make sure it stays that way, like!”

  “Good. Very well, Mr Anstey, get the lads moving. Not a bloody sound, d’ye hear?”

  The Midshipman nodded nervously and started to form the men into some kind of order. The Royal Marines shouldered their Brown Bess muskets and moved off under their sergeant. The seamen filed along behind. One had a case on his back containing two rockets. One red and one blue. The other party had a similar package. If the batteries were taken, the red rockets would be fired. There might be some people in the town awake and who would see them, and perhaps wonder what they were, but by the time someone might investigate, the deed should have been done.

  The boat from the Pollyana approached the Spanish frigate. When Courtenay looked to starboard, he could not see in the darkness the other boats, but he knew that even now, they would be swinging round to come in on the other side of the Spaniard. He was of course fully aware of the fact the frigate carried far more men than he had with him, but he counted on many of the crew being drunk and therefore fast asleep and then others being tired and far from awake. He hoped to catch them for the most part below, where they would find themselves under battened down hatches and companions and to force Peron into surrendering his ship. Again, the watch word had been silence. If there was a lot of firing, it would awaken the townspeople to the fact that something was not right, and before they knew that for a fact he wished to have control of the frigate and the batteries.