Across to America: A Tim Phillips Novel (War at Sea Book 9) (6 page)

Andromeda had been kedged back to her mooring and was nearly ready to sail when a shabby little skiff was pulled up to her port beam and the gun maker’s apprentice passed up the rifle and package of ammunition to the anchor watch. Returning from another visit ashore, Phillips examined the weapon and was satisfied with his purchase. Enlisting the service of the new Royal Marine officer, Lieutenant Daniels, who had come aboard in Halifax, he went onto the quarterdeck to see what opportunities presented themselves to test the rifle.

Gulls were wheeling about overhead, and several were perched on pilings protruding from the water. The birds were at respectable distances and neither officer expected to hit one of them.

Daniels was most enthused about the new ignition system. At sea, firing a flint lock weapon was often dubious because of spray. If the powder in a pan became damp, the weapon would surely not fire until the priming, at least, was replaced. These caps seemed to fire every time though.

The gulls did not seem unduly perturbed by the target practice. After the first few shots, most of the birds ignored the discharges unless a ball passed too close. Finally, Daniels managed to strike a bird at nearly one hundred yards distance. The ruined bird fell thrashing into the sea and the remainder departed for a safer environment.

Mister Daniels volunteered his servant, a Royal Marine private, to clean the rifle, and Phillips called over his first officer to discuss the ship’s next voyage. The visit ashore with Vice Admiral Sawyer had produced his sailing orders and his instructions. American privateers were swarming to sea all along the eastern seaboard, with the intent to savage British trade. He was to attempt to disrupt this activity as much as was possible.

American shipping had in the recent past been of great importance to Britain and its action in Spain and Portugal. The harvest in Britain had been poor in recent seasons and prices were climbing daily for needed farm produce. Any American shipping, wishing to continue that trade, should be encouraged. For now, no pressing of seamen from these ships would be countenanced.

However, those American ships attempting trade with France or with French forces wherever found should be taken as prizes, the ships brought to a British port if possible, else they should be destroyed.

Any American ships encountered at sea, should be closely examined to determine their destination.

One of the final projects he had done in the dockyard was painting ship. A previous cargo from home landed from the last convoy was paint. With his own funds, Phillips purchased enough brown paint to give the ship’s sides a coat. From his place on the quarterdeck, he overheard a pair of midshipmen passing in a launch comparing the post ship to an old barn. Mister Darby, the second officer, was present and outraged at the effrontery of the young men. He clearly wished Captain Phillips to summon them aboard to have their ears roasted, but Phillips smiled and ignored the event. Truthfully, he hoped any Yankee privateers they encountered would think the same. Surely, no King’s ship, would put to sea in such a state.

The new paint covered the gun port lids, and from a distance the closed ports were not apparent. From the chandler’s, he had procured some old barrels and crates which could be strategically placed around the deck, making the post ship appear to be a small down-at-the-heels trader.

To gild the lily, some cast off sailcloth was obtained from the dockyard. This was old, thin stuff with multiple patches. Already condemned and destined to be destroyed because of its condition, the dockyard master was willing to sell it for a small sum. The sailmaker set to with his crew cutting the poor material to fit.

At the last minute before sailing, a draft of seventy men was put on board launches and pulled out to Andromeda. These were mostly involuntary levies from the other ships in harbor, although some were volunteer landsmen, succumbing to the tales of wealth likely to be garnered from all of the American prizes taken.

HMS Andromeda was pulled out of harbor by her headsails. Initially, Phillips intended to follow the trade route merchant shipping generally followed on the way to the Channel. He had hoped to join up with a convoy, but the next was not due for weeks yet, and Vice-Admiral Sawyer was explicit with the necessity for her to depart as soon as possible. The first matter on the agenda was to look for enemy privateers. After several weeks of that, it would be time to search for the next convoy from home. He hoped to meet up with that shipping near Bermuda, but he well knew there was always the possibility they would miss each other. He would have been more comfortable with several more ships. However, he must make do with what he had. 

One problem with travelling alone was, according to a recent Order in Council, British commercial shipping was forbidden to sail unless in convoy. This action had been taken soon after the American declaration of war had been received in London. Thus, posing as a lone British merchantman might be suspicious.

Mister Harding voiced his doubts about the effectiveness of the disguise, but Goodrich, the third officer assured him a previous Order in Council had removed the requirement of sailing in convoy because of the elimination of the French threat in the Caribbean. It was only after the American entry into the war that it was re-imposed. “Who is to say we did not sail before we learned of the new order”, Goodrich assured the sailing master.

After making their offing, the ship was readied for the closest inspection by a marauding privateer. The tops’ls were replaced by the ancient canvas secured from the dockyard. It had been reinforced by the sailmaker so no splits were likely to occur at in-opportune moments. The ship’s cook got into the act by throwing some visibly noxious substance over the side, leaving an unsightly stripe down to the waterline.

Some of the empty boxes and casks secured ashore were place strategically about on the weather deck. The remainder were disassembled and struck below into the hold. In the event the ship would clear for action, the material on deck could be thrown over the side in a minute.

The hands entered into the scheme with a will, often coming up with their own notions. Despite this however, Andromeda was not a universally happy ship. The extra draft of men taken aboard severely strained the living space in the berth deck. Then too, some of the levied men were those their old captains thought they could well do without. Already, the sea lawyers among them were muttering about their outrageous transfer away from the old ship and mates. The landsmen had not had the opportunity to be disgruntled yet. Most of them were too incapacitated from sea-sickness.

Phillips had asked Admiral Sawyer for the extra men. He had thought if he took several prizes, the extra hands would come in handy to man them. Otherwise, captured ships would necessarily be torched. Now though, with the new turmoil on his previously well-ordered ship, he was not so sure he had done the right thing. On the third day out, he had about come to the conclusion he must start flogging some men, if but to just get their attention. There had been some downright disobedience toward his officers and petty officers, and names had been taken.

He mentioned to Mister Gould, who was standing on the quarterdeck, just aft of a party of men holystoning the deck early one morning, that it was time to have a mast for defaulters. He knew this would be discussed by the men on the berth deck on their off watch.

Late in the fore-noon watch that day, the masthead lookout reported a sail approaching on their starboard beam.  He soon advised the stranger to be ship rigged but was still hull down. It seemed to be altering course to intercept their own.

Phillips did not regard this as unusual. The likely explanation was a King’s ship coming up from southerly regions. As he went to his quarters, after taking the noon sights, everyone on the ship with a glass was leaning over the rail to examine the sail plan of the newcomer to see if she could be identified.

It was his second officer, Mister Darby who reported hesitantly, and announced. “Sir, we do not think this sighting to be a King’s ship. Her rig is not what we would expect to see on such. I myself have never seen her before, I am sure. Some of us are thinking she may be a Yankee privateer.”

“Well Mister Darby, you cannot say we look all that much like one of His Majesty’s ships, ourselves. However, you could very well be correct. I will be on deck shortly.”

On deck, the stranger had distinctly closed. She was now over the horizon and the details of her hull were becoming apparent. She appeared to be a rather large, ship rigged vessel, probably not new, but spacious enough to carry either a large cargo or plenty of men. From her inquisitive nature, Phillips would have wagered on her carrying more men than cargo.

It was unlikely for a timid merchantman to approach a strange sighting so boldly. It could be she was a merchantman with a letter of marque. These documents, Phillips had been informed, were being issued by the hundreds from every port on the American seaboard. Such a document would allow a trading ship carrying cargo, to take prizes, provided the ship had a few guns and enough men to take the risk.

At any rate, Andromeda could not continue sailing along fat and dumb, waiting for the stranger to close. There was every chance she would smell a rat and sheer away. Sailing in light westerly breezes under her ancient topsails, Phillips gave orders to set the fore and main courses. These were no better than the tops’ls, being old, discarded sailcloth gleaned from the dockyard scrap, of the type a parsimonious owner might choose to equip an old ship.

With the extra canvas, the ship began showing a wake, but with some judicious work at the braces, enough wind was spilled to allow the stranger to slowly continue to come up. It was coming on close to sunset when the pursuer hoisted her flag and fired a gun. It was a Yankee, and the gun she fired appeared to be a nine pounder long gun.

Phillips ordered all plain sail set, and the yards braced to the wind. Before the sun set, it was now certain Andromeda was holding her own, neither gaining nor falling behind. The sky was overcast and no moon was present, so for the moment, at least, they were out of sight of their pursuer. Satisfied, called his officers into the cabin along with the bosun’s mate of the watch.

“Gentlemen, I wish to set before you what I hope will happen. Of course we are all aware a Yankee privateer is close behind us with a powerful ship, likely full of men. We could come about now and engage her with a most likely positive result. We might well lose more men than I would wish by engaging in the dark though, so I propose to wait until dawn, when we shall make the attempt in the morning light with our men rested.”

“Hopefully, the enemy believes us to be a ragged merchantman, barely able to stay out of his clutches. Likely he will stay with us as best he can in hopes of getting a few shots into us. I want to assist him in keeping us in sight, but of course I will not allow him to close or fire into us.”

“Thus, now that he can no longer see us, I will take down our old canvas and hoist our good sailcloth, taking care to not fall behind. As soon as that is finished, we will begin to encourage our pursuer. Presently, we are darkened so that it is difficult for her to see us. Therefore, we will begin making some mistakes.”

“Mister Gladding”, Phillips ordered, addressing the bosun’s mate of the watch. “Occasionally, one of your men will wish to light his pipe. He may do this from the binnacle light, which is of course now shuttered, to keep it from the view of the enemy. By opening the shutter, the people behind us will get a quick glimpse of the light, enough to determine our position. This must seem accidental, so as not to invoke suspicion.”

“The deck officer may also feel the need of tobacco. Therefore, I am leaving a supply of Spanish cigars by the helm. At his discretion, he, as well as the helmsmen, may wish to smoke also. As with the men forward, they may light their cigars from the binnacle lamp, making certain the shutter is closed when finished.”

“Soon after we have disclosed our position to our followers, we will make a course change to port, as if we are attempting to draw away. Before we get too far away however, it will be necessary to ‘accidentally’ disclose our new position once again.”

“While this is going on, I would like our deck cleared of all of our trash. It should be taken down and struck below. I do not wish it thrown overboard just yet for fear of alerting the enemy.”

“Before first light, we will clear for action, and see what we can attempt with the enemy. Are we all clear, gentlemen?”

During the black night, Andromeda made her twists and turns, only to be followed by her pursuer. It was only in the early part of the morning watch that sufficient light discipline was able to be imposed that she could now remain completely out of sight. Phillips, assured the ship was in good hands, got a few hours of sleep. It was still black outside, when he was awakened by the morning watch coming on deck. He was on deck before the crew came to tear apart his quarters as was their duty in clearing the ship for action.

A bleary Lieutenant Daniels greeted him as he gained the quarterdeck. It seemed neither of the watch officers on duty that night were smokers. So the Marine had remained on deck all night, smoking one cigar after another. He reported his mouth and throat were foul and he was never going to smoke another cigar again.

All his officers were on deck, and it was Mister Harding who pointed out the enemy. She had ranged up during the evening, and was now approaching the starboard beam, still well astern. The ship was mostly invisible, but the sailing master pointed out an infinitely small sporadic twinkle at her helm as someone sucked on his pipe. Harding chuckled. “Sir, we aren’t the only ones smoking on duty.”

The enemy was right to windward, so Phillips knew the fresh breeze would blow any slight noise made aboard Andromeda right away. He told his officers and midshipmen he wanted the ship brought to stations with guns run out, as quietly as possible. Matches were not to be lit in the darkness. Instead, the flintlock firing mechanisms would be relied upon until action commenced.

At the point when he judged the lightening sky would begin to reveal him clearly to the privateer, he ordered his ship stripped to fighting sail, with the courses furled, and the fore tops’l laid aback. The ship slowed to almost a halt in the sea and waited for her pursuer to come booming up.

Come up she did, her cutwater throwing the sea at her prow aside in a white mustache, all doubts of her prey’s location dispelled. One of the stranger’s guns up forward slammed, and the ball struck perilously close to Andromeda’s bow.

At that point, Phillips nodded to Mister Gould, and the broadside crashed, all guns firing almost simultaneously. At cable’s length range, most shots struck, and ruin struck the enemy ship. Men were smashed to red jam, guns torn from carriages, and equipment smashed. The surviving members of the enemy crew were transformed instantly from a confident unit expecting to receive the surrender of a helpless foe into crippled, beaten individuals.

A few guns from the privateer’s broadside fired in reply, but it was too little, too late. As guns were reloaded on Andromeda, they began their savage duty, pounding their iron balls into the privateer. With her foremast and bowsprit now down, the helpless ship began drifting toward Andromeda.

Aware of the masses of men often aboard these privateers, Phillips ordered his guns to shift from firing ball to grape, this being more effective against personnel. After a blast of that medicine, he then ordered the tops’l yards braced around and the ship put to the wind. She came around the bow of the stricken ship and again backed her tops’ls with her guns run out, offering to bow rake the privateer.

With no escape possible, the ship lowered her flag and surrendered.