Across to America: A Tim Phillips Novel (War at Sea Book 9) (16 page)

The American sloop of war took up station herself to windward of the convoy forward of the brig, almost as if she too was one of the escort. It soon became obvious that some of the cargo ship masters were now becoming nervous since there was much jockeying for position, and the flag signals were constantly busy. The escorts found it necessary to fire guns to enforce their commands, and Harrison was glad he was not one of those escort commanders.

The convoy seemed not to be as tight as it had been when it was first observed. Occasionally, he found it enjoyable to make a run at the convoy. Once he sailed right into the port column then came back through the scattering ships back out to windward again. There was not an opportunity to snatch up a quick prize, since he well knew the brig and then probably the frigate, would have been on him immediately had he done so.

This did not seem to disturb the escorts all that much, but many of the merchant ships would break formation to escape the perceived threat. This would have been stressful on some of them, since many masters sailed with depleted crews. Then again, it was not unknown for one of the escorting vessels to come alongside a merchant and press a few crew members. The result was, with insufficient crew aboard, some merchants had a difficult time with the added sail handling caused by the maneuvering.

All of this maneuvering gave Harrison’s men some much needed drill at sail handling. As nightfall neared, he began informing his key people of his plans.

There was still heavy cloud cover and a rough sea when he made his move. With no starlight or moon, it was about as dark as it could be. Letting out some reefs, he began moving up the line of ships. His people could keep a fair idea of their position in relation to the convoy since most of the ships were showing some kind of light. Not so the Allen. His first officer had gone around the ship at dusk checking for light. Those people with tobacco were told to either chew it or throw it over the side. No smoking or lights of any kind were to be permitted.

At length, they were at the van. The big 64 gun liner was up there plodding along and some of the merchantmen had broken their column and clustered around her as if they were chicks huddling around the mother hen. Unseen, Allen eased over to starboard, closing a heavy looking brigantine as she labored along a few places astern of the battleship.

He was well aware he had little chance of successfully taking one of these ships as prize. In the first place, should he try, one or another of the escorts would be on him at once. Even if he did take one, and get it away from the convoy, he would never get it past the blockade. With his gunners having been ordered to fire high at the rigging, he came alongside and gave the target a broadside. The attack brought instant panic to the convoy. Merchant ships began breaking out of column and scattering in every direction.

Harrison took the opportunity to scatter himself. The massive 64 was coming around in her ponderous manner, and he wanted nothing to do with being a target for her big guns. Fortunately, the cluster of shipping around her precluded her from firing off her broadside.

In minutes, the sloop was racing away from the ships and was well out of reach of the blundering ship-of-the-line. Next morning, he saw the brigantine he had fired upon. She was lying broad to the swells, shrouds had been severed and her foremast was broken beneath the top. The brigantine was attempting to solve the problem with the few men she had aboard. Miles away, her absence had just been noted with the dawn, and the brig was rushing back to the rescue.

Captain Harrison was not in the least concerned about that brig. If he so desired, he knew he could fight her to a standstill, and make her his prize. That would be foolish though. The Royal Navy had dozens of escort brigs. The US Navy had only a few sloops and they were much too valuable to fritter away on ill-conceived individual actions. A fight between the two would likely leave both crippled to some extent. There would be an hour before the brig arrived so he sent the launch with an armed party over to the crippled vessel. They put the crew of the brigantine into her own boats and fired the prize. This would be one load of sugar which would never reach London. His crew was back aboard the sloop long before the brig arrived, and he took the time to dip his flag to her.

Phillips, although with a fair idea of where to look for the pirate now, knew it would still be a long search. The suspicion was she would be in one of her hiding holes in the innumerable bays and tiny harbors around Puerto Rico and the outlying islands. It could take quite a time before she was found, if she ever was. In the meantime, the larder was becoming low.

While there was still biscuit and pork, they were down to the bottom tier of casks of the salt beef. Occasionally, a bad cask was opened, and at this stage of the game, such a discovery could have unfortunate consequences. He decided this would be a good time to replenish his supplies. San Juan was just over the horizon, and while the Spanish government was often downright hostile to warships of other countries visiting their shores, the Regency government of Spain was, in fact, allied with Britain.

HMS Roebuck sailed into San Juan Bay and was greeted by a gun from the defensive fortifications. Phillips noted the seriousness with which the Spanish defenders took their entrance into the harbor, when an actual shot impacted the sea a cable’s distance from them. The ship was immediately hove to at the warning and a boat bearing a white flag was launched. Lieutenant Wilson was permitted to land on shore and disappeared among a group of military officers waiting at the water’s edge.

Later that day, Wilson returned to the boat and boarded Roebuck with a lengthy document he was to give to Phillips. A low-echelon clerk of the Spanish military service accompanied him to explain the various rules of the region and to translate for them.

Wilson had already made the preliminary arrangements while on shore and Phillips learned salt beef in casks would be brought out in barges to the ship at its mooring out in harbor. The ship herself would not be allowed to come closer to shore, but seamen, in small groups, would be permitted to go ashore, so long as they caused no trouble.

Well familiar with the ease a British seaman could get in trouble in a foreign port, Phillips decided then not to allow his people to leave the ship. Wilson had mentioned their hope to locate the pirate frigate that was causing so much trouble in the region and bring her in. The military commander with whom Wilson had discussed this with, was not un-responsive to the idea. That pirate ship ‘Hortense’ had caused plenty of financial trouble and misery all around the Caribbean.

Don Quevido, the local military commander however, was dubious of the ability of the British ship to take the pirate. He explained the rovers had been removing the guns from every ship they took, and now had quite an arsenal aboard the frigate. Also, they had somehow acquired a man to train and operate the ship in a more professional manner.

Quevedo greatly feared the pirates would overcome the small British warship easily enough, taking her into their service, and then the region would be confronted with a pair of pirate ships. The Spanish forces however would not prevent the Britons to do what they could against the pirates.

Taking aboard the needed supplies and water, even some additional powder purchased from the huge defensive fortress, Roebuck set out again.

She sailed up past Cuba and through the straits between that island and Florida. Phillips was tempted to sail northward up the mainland coast to Georgia or the Carolinas, with the object of taking a few Yankee merchantmen, but decided not to. At this stage of the war, few American ships were at sea and any that were afloat would likely be snatched up by one or another of the blockading fleet anyway. He sailed instead, east and south along the Atlantic coat of Cuba, looking into any bays or harbors he saw.

Phillips was not interested in the major ports, since the Spanish forces, naval and military, were just as angered by the piratical depredations as were the British, and would have surely noticed the presence of the pirate ship. However, the frigate could sail into some small bay or fishing port and compel the locals there to assist them. Too, they would need a place to dispose of the goods they had managed to take. With nothing remarkable noted, Roebuck continued her voyage. Near to the eastern end of the island, a small island schooner hove into sight one morning. It was a chance meeting. She had just put out from a small island offshore when Roebuck came along.

She let fly her sheets at the shouted command from the Spanish speaking crewman aboard the post ship, and came to a stop. Mister Richardson, a midshipman Phillips felt was coming right along, went over to her with his launch crew and the translator. After the examination, the lad bought a large turtle the schooner’s crew had captured, and sent the relieved people on their way.

Phillips and Hornady went over to examine the enormous green turtle the lad had brought back to the ship. It was realized the beast was too large for the gunroom mess so Hornady bought it from the lad for the wardroom, with shares to go to the captain and the gunroom. With that important issue out of the way, Phillips asked Richardson what the schooner’s crew had to say of their quarry.

The lad stated they had been chased by a big frigate two days earlier but had escaped by sailing closer to the wind than their pursuers were able. The crewmen of the small craft doubted it could be the pirate since all previous reports had it that the pirate was a shabby, run-down ship. This one showed signs of naval smartness, with her sails and rigging in good order and the ship handling what one might expect from a ship with perhaps a rather junior officer in charge of the deck.

Phillips decided this latter frigate might be from some other navy, scouting opportunities here in the tangled confusion of the Spanish territories.

Roebuck continued past Cuba back to Puerto Rico. This time paying close attention to the numerous islands. One fine Sunday morning found them anchored in a tiny bay on the lee side of a small island. It was a beautiful place with a fine beach and a thick forest behind the beach. It had been a lengthy period at sea and Phillips felt the men were becoming jaded. Accordingly, he gave instructions that port and starboard watches would be granted alternating liberty ashore.

Mister Hastings, their Marine officer would take a party of Marines ashore and examine the near jungle behind the beach for threats. Assuming no danger was evident, the first watch would proceed ashore while the watch on board would be vigilant for any danger.

Phillips accompanied Hastings ashore, taking along his rifle. Once past the beach, they entered the forest. It was difficult penetrating the thick jungle cover at first but they soon came to a clearing, halting when they heard the excited clatter of teeth from a group of pigs. Most were of small size, but one sow was probably close to 200 pounds.

The rifle was already loaded and at half cock. When that sow began looking as if she was about to attack, Phillips levelled the long rifle. She was less than fifty yards away, and could be a danger should she attack. Knowing his weapon would shoot a little high at this range, he placed the front bead on her upper neck and squeezed off the shot. Immediately, Hastings fired his musket at one of the smaller pigs and both animals dropped where they stood. The ball from Phillips’ rifle took her in the mouth and entered her brain, killing her instantly.

The two officers stood by their kills while the corporal took the Marines on a quick scout to see if the shots had been noticed.

The corporal reported upon his return that he had seen no sign of another human being here. With this news, the pigs were dressed out and the carcasses carried out to the beach on poles. At the sight of the meat the liberty men on the beach immediately began building a fire and soon the smell of roasting pork filled the air.

After consuming a few slices of the fresh meat, Phillips returned to Roebuck and relieved Mister Layton. The first officer then began shuttling the men on the ship to the beach, bringing the sated members of the first watch back to the ship.

Master Commandant Harrison stood by the windward rail of his quarterdeck with some difficulty. The sloop was pitching like a wild horse under him. Even after a lifetime at sea, his stomach was telling him it had nearly had enough. He had been exercising his mind for days, ever since he had first received these orders, studying just how he was going to carry them out.

Patrolling the seas off New England was not producing any results. Convoys were few and far between, and when they were found, produced few positive results, at least for his ship and the US Navy. He had not been able to duplicate the success of the attack on that first convoy soon after his escape from Boston. The shipping he did meet with all had capable, aggressive escorts.

Every day, looking over the reports from his department heads, he saw the consumable stores depleting steadily. Men were also being expended. Robert Jenson had been swept off the pitching deck by a rogue sea two nights ago. He went down immediately in the icy sea and was never seen again. Two men had been ruptured with the strenuous work required at sea and Ben Wilson had his foot crushed when the gun he was serving rolled over it. The surgeon doubted the foot could be saved.

He felt he was wasting his time now, but what else could he do? The blockade was strangling the ability of American ships to put to sea, naval and well as merchant. If he returned to port, there was no way to know if the ship could ever escape to sea again. As long as he was still out here, there must be some constructive action he could take.

The thought crossed his mind to cross the Atlantic, to take the battle to the enemy on his own shores. The problem was, he would be far from a friendly haven, and he had to expect his losses in men and stores were going to continue or even mount. Of course, he could always seek refuge in a French port, but he felt the blockade on those ports was probably as severe as was the one on the ports on the American coast. If he was to be blockaded, would it not be better to be home, rather than in a foreign country?

In the end, he decided to sail south, and at least make an effort to find that pirate the new Secretary of the Navy was upset with. He was almost certain he would not find a trace of the fellow or his ship, but at least they would be away from the cold weather. Too, there were all those British controlled islands with numerous ships sailing between them. Surely he could collect a few of them.

Having made up his mind, he called for his first officer. Mister Laird was a solemn Puritan, and not a joy to the fellow members of the wardroom, but he was a competent officer who was perfectly in tune with the ship. Phillips rather wished he was not so strict with the hands as to their language, but was willing to ignore his foibles and hoped the hands could learn to do so as well.

Mister Laird came up from below, with the expected sour look on his face. Harrison had planned on discussing the new plan with his second-in-command, but was put off by the man’s expression and merely informed him he was going to his cabin to warm up a bit. He ordered Laird to put the ship on a course that would take them to the Caribbean. They were going pirate hunting.

Not wanting to go against the Gulf Current for the whole distance, Laird took them out to sea that day and turned south that evening. It was early in the morning watch when the officer of the watch sent down Jason Hendricks to wake him. Hendricks was a newly appointed midshipman of sixteen. He was not very knowledgeable about Navy affairs yet, but had served on his grandfather’s merchant fleet for some years and had the makings of a seaman. “Sir”, he shouted, “Mister Wilson says to tell you a ship is in sight.”

Hendricks added, “I know her well, sir. She’s the Amy Benson. She sailed out of Boston for years but now her owner Amos Hunter flies the British flag and sails out of Halifax.”

Harrison grumbled, “Keep your voice down, Hendricks. I can hear you just fine.”

Hendricks could not be satisfied unless he got the last word in. “Mister Wilson told me to make sure you were awake”, using the same shout he had used before.

Groaning, Harrison donned his heavy wool coat and picked up the new bicorne hat his wife had given him before the voyage. Searching for his heavy gloves, he found them where his servant had hidden them away. Higgins thought they were much too fine and expensive to wear aboard ship, and was always hiding these items and leaving out his ancient, worn-out attire.

On the quarterdeck now, he shivered as the frigid wind found its way under his heavy coat. Although they had made some southing, it was just as cold here as it was to the north. His watch officer, Mister Wilson, approached and pointed out to starboard. “There sir, right on our beam.”

A big, ship-rigged merchant was plodding along on her northerly course. Harrison wondered aloud, “I wonder what she is doing out here when she could be coming up the Gulf Stream, making port a little sooner?”

Young Hendricks was right there, shamelessly eavesdropping. “Sir, I know the man. Right now he flies the British flag on his ship so he can avoid the blockade. But he doesn’t want to have to wait for convoys, so he sails out here where he thinks he will not be noticed.”

“Won’t the British fine him for not obeying that Order in Council?”

“No, that is the beauty of his plan. When he enters Halifax harbor, he hoists the American flag. Admiral Sawyer there is happy to have rogue American ships bring trade, so he says not a word about it. He will give a license to anybody that asks.”

Harrison ordered the ship put about, and the Allen began coming up to the ship. It was high daylight before they came alongside, the ship ignoring their presence. When he fired a gun, the ship raised an American flag that matched their own, and kept sailing. The gunner tried another shot, and this clipped her cutwater, bringing forth some outraged gobbling from a portly gentleman on the merchant’s deck.

Close enough now to use a speaking trumpet, Harrison shouted for the fellow to heave to. With no response, he warned, “Those last were warning shots, the next will go into your hull.”

The remainder of the ports opened and the guns were rolled out. The merchant set her tops’ls to the mast and slowed to a crawl.

“Mister Laird”, Harrison told the first officer. “I want you to take an armed party and examine that ship. Mister Hendricks will accompany you. He is to rummage the master’s quarters, to see what he can find.”

It was an hour before Laird returned to the sloop with a case full of papers. Young Hendricks had remained on the merchant with some armed hands. Laird approached his captain and announced. “When I went aboard that merchant, her master handed me her papers and manifest. Supposedly, she is the Amy Benson whose home port is Boston. She has a cargo of tobacco from Virginia in hogsheads bound for Boston, or Halifax, depending on which set of papers you want to believe.”

“When we went past her stern before boarding, the sternboard said she was the Amy Benson out of Halifax, but she has another sternboard under that one saying she is out of Boston.”

“Young Hendricks worked as an apprentice for that master two years, and knows some of his little tricks. He found one set of documents in the cabin saying she was a British ship and another proving she was American. Amos Hunter, her owner and master, has papers identifying himself as an American and as an Englishman. Apparently Mister Hunter wishes to be all things to all people.”

Harrison had himself pulled over to observe matters himself. The master of the ship was most indignant of his treatment and would surely call upon the new Navy Secretary, Mister Jones, and forcefully express his displeasure.

Leaving the master in the hands of his Marines, Harrison had a hatch opened. Hogshead after hogshead was wedged tightly in place. He approached his bosun’s mate standing by the hatch and asked if he could knock in the top of one of the large oaken casks. He wanted to see the contents.

Obligingly the seaman located an axe and had a top knocked in within a few minutes. The pungent aroma of Virginia tobacco emerged. “Dayton, I am planning to burn this ship. If you or your mates wish any of this tobacco, and have a place to stow it, you may take what you will.”

Harrison had it in mind that every tobacco user aboard ship would take a few pounds of tobacco from the huge barrel. After returning to the Ethan Allen, he looked out his stern window and saw the Benson’s windlass cranking a hogshead through the open hatch from the end of a cable leading through a block on the mainyard. As he watched, his crew braced the yard around until the container hung over the side. The Benson had a big barge on board and that had been dropped into the sea and led under the hanging hogshead. Slowly, the barrel was lowered into the barge, making it settle deeply into the water from the half ton weight of the tobacco.

How they were going to stow it on the Ethan Allen, he had no idea and knew better than to ask.

The first tendrils of smoke began seeping through the open hatches before they set sail. Soon after, flames began gushing out and she was then fully engulfed. Harrison had sacrificed a jug of whale oil that he had intended to use for his lamps on the voyage. He decided he could just use slush from the galley instead.

Mister Hunter was confined to a little storeroom the bosun said they could use. He had a stool to sit on and the deck on which to sleep. A bucket for his bodily wastes, which he could empty over the side once a day and a Bible, although he would have a difficult time reading it for lack of a lamp. When he complained bitterly, he was told he could sleep in irons on the orlop deck if he preferred.

The USS Ethan Allen continued south, once sighting a dozen ships heading in their own direction. Closing to inspect them, they found three of them were British warships, two frigates and a ship-sloop. Wanting to say nothing to any of them, Allen hoisted everything she could carry and the race was on. The big 38 gun frigate was soon sunk under the horizon, but the sloop and the smaller frigate were not so easily left behind. The pair remained with the American ship the rest of the day, the Allen escaping only in the dark of night. Harrison would have gladly met with the ship-sloop by herself, but an action would have only bad results if the frigate was present too.

Harrison was becoming depressed. He commanded a warship and his duty was to seek out and destroy any enemy warships he met. Here he was, slinking around like a burglar, hiding from everyone, almost afraid to come out in the open.

The men though, seemed to be taking it in stride. They were in the warmer waters of the south and men were now caulking on deck on their off watches, taking the sun and working on scrimshaw.

One day, while taking noon sights with the midshipmen, he found they had left Florida, the last appendage of the North American mainland in these parts and were closing Cuba. He had no instructions concerning these Spanish areas. While Spain was technically an ally of Britain in her was with France, he knew of no reason why the United States should not be at amity with Spain.

He decided it might be worthwhile to send a boat into San Juan harbor to find if he could bring the Ethan Allen into the port to load supplies and find out more of this pirate ship. It had been months since Navy Secretary William Jones had issued the orders for this mission. The pirate could well have been taken long since and his bones might be decorating some gibbet along the shore somewhere,

Harrison selected Mister Laird to take the boat in. Although he was not the most pleasant person to deal with, he had a good head on his shoulders and was able to make clear decisions rapidly. Laird was dead-set against ‘Papists’ and was apt to fly into a rage discussing them. Harrison reminded him the people in these parts were Roman Catholics, and he must not discuss religion with them.

It was nightfall when the boat returned. Laird had had a productive day on shore. Their quarry was still terrorizing the local populace and the American’s efforts to suppress this menace were welcome. Supplies were available but it was not deemed advisable for crew to come ashore on liberty. A pilot would come out in the morning to take them to their anchorage.