Tall Orders (The Duty and Destiny Series Book 10) Read online

  “What course would the Spanish wish to take from Ferrol, Sir Iain? This wind is fairly much foul for their purposes.”

  The wind was set almost directly in the south-west, as was not unusual for the season.

  “Two choices, Sir Frederick. They can make a series of short tacks inshore, or run to a point somewhere deep in the Atlantic and then almost before the wind to Lisbon. Much will depend on the willingness of the French, who we assume are calling the tune, to be taken any distance to sea; their army might be distrustful of Spanish intentions.”

  “I could send the sloops to the westward, scouting, as it were… No! Let us assume the Frogs to be in control and to wish to be close to the land. Put another fifty men aboard Gloriosa frigate, I think, sufficient to run out her broadside and look fierce. If we sight them, we shall close, battle ensigns flying, guns run out and gnashing our teeth in ferocious fashion. We may hope that the Spanish will do exactly as we have seen before, will protect their convoy rather than seek battle. There is a certain logic to such an action, Sir Iain – what is the gain to a great battle which sinks a whole British squadron if in process they lose five thousand soldiers and are unable to carry out their intended invasion? The Glorious First of June springs to mind.”

  That was a battle better not mentioned, Sir Iain thought; a French fleet destroyed while its convoy made port almost untouched. France would have starved and the Revolution have been brought to an end had the convoy been sunk instead. The navy tended to draw a veil over that particular affair.

  “Fair Isle signalling, sir, flags streaming away, sir, unreadable!”

  “Assume enemy to be in sight, Sir Iain. Squadron to clear and run out.”

  The foremast lookout called out that Fair Isle was tacking.

  “Good man, that one, Sir Iain. Alert!”

  The lookout had realised that Fair Isle’s tack might have a good reason behind it, such as the need to keep out of range of an enemy.

  The familiar, horrible, long wait as the ships crawled towards each other, time dragging and nothing useful to be done…

  “On deck, a fleet, sir, distant from Fair Isle, tops’ls in sight, sir. Many. Large ships, sir. Closing course, sir.”

  Frederick glanced up, topgallants set, probably all the sail the ship could carry in this wind.

  “Sir Iain, could we set royals to the main? To make us more visible to the Spanish.”

  “Master?”

  “No, sir, not nohow, sir. Bring the whole bloody mast down, like as not, sir. All they Spanish is going to see from that is us in irons and not going noplace, sir!”

  Frederick withdrew the suggestion, a little hurt at the Master’s vehemence; it had seemed quite a clever idea.

  “On deck! The fleet wearing, sir.”

  The enemy ships came broadside on, hull-up as they made their slow turn.

  “On deck, sir. Two ships of three-decks, sir, very big, and another three of two-decks, sir. Nobbut one frigate, sir, and two what may sloops, sir. Convoy in a mess, sir, might be fifteen of ships and brigs and small stores, sir.”

  Five line-of-battle ships, from the Ferrol squadron, no doubt; frigates would be busier, almost unavailable to a port of lesser significance, working mainly in the Mediterranean where there were so many merchantmen to be escorted and protected from the Barbary pirates as well.

  A delay of fifteen minutes or more, then another shout.

  “On deck! Navy ships, sir, ‘as formed a line, more or less, and is clapping on sail. Leaving the convoy, sir. Fair Isle closing the convoy, sir.”

  “Admiral Ball said that the Spanish might take the opportunity to dump the French, Sir Iain. Sloops to close the convoy. Ourselves to do the same. Signal Fair Isle to demand the surrender of the convoy.”

  An hour, slowly closing on the French transports, the Spanish out of sight downwind. The troopships huddled together, firing their few guns at Fair Isle, refusing to surrender but making very little speed.

  “Spanish ships, sir, their crews in mutiny against the Frogs, sir. The soldiers don’t know how to sail the ships, but can man the guns.”

  “That seems logical, Sir Iain. We must disabuse them of their notions of defending themselves.”

  Winchester crawled onto the scene, broadside threatening, a single boat lowered under a white flag for parley.

  The French shot at the boat as it attempted to close the nearest troopship; they missed, possibly as a warning, perhaps because they were not used to their guns yet.

  “Recall the boat!”

  The boat cleared Winchester’s beam as she closed within half a cable of the belligerent transport.

  “Load grape over ball, lower deck. Grape to upper deck battery.”

  Frederick took a speaking trumpet, paced to the side.

  “Surrender now!”

  “Merde!”

  “Sir Iain!”

  “Shoot!”

  The ship’s captain must give the orders to its men.

  The broadside reloaded. The Tricolour was still flying, possibly from lack of a fit hand to lower it.

  “Shoot!”

  The mainmast fell, the offending flag with it; smoke rose from a sail which had fallen across the four guns of the transport’s battery. A powder charge exploded and the smoke grew and flames could be seen.

  “Boats to save life, if possible.”

  Every other transport had a white flag by now.

  “Sloops, Fair Isle and Gloriosa to send a party to each transport. Warn the French that we will sink any ship that offers any resistance, or which attempts to leave company. Course for the Channel and Plymouth, Sir Iain.”

  “Aye aye, sir. Beg pardon, sir. With this wind, Portsmouth might be fetched a fraction easier.”

  “Make it so, Sir Iain… that transport will not be saved. Order Pincher off! The risk is too great.”

  Pincher had been sidling up to the transport, trying to come alongside to make the rescue more quickly.

  “The wounded have no chance of escape, Sir Frederick.”

  “So be it, Sir Iain. I will not kill my men in the attempt to save them.”

  The other transports sent boats as well; between them they saved perhaps a hundred of soldiers. They took no count of how many died.

  The prizes parted company to make their course to Portsmouth, under escort of Gloriosa and the sloop taken with her. They had been sullenly obedient for the two weeks of their voyage, the example of the burned ship terrifying them.

  “Farewell to our prize crews, sir. We shall not see those men again, them in Portsmouth and us in Chatham!”

  “Inevitable, Sir Iain. A pity that we are not to join them in Pompey. We could have found a few days at home, I doubt not, but hardly from Chatham on winter roads.”

  “Too long away, Sir Frederick! A period of half-pay after this commission for me, I think, sir.”

  “You might well be right at that, Sir Iain. A year or two on land might do me good as well. I find myself growing less enamoured of the sea-going existence. Two ships burned by my command, and far too many men with them – a nasty commission that I am glad to see coming to an end. I am climbing the List now, and must be within a few years of my flag – anything from fifteen to twenty years, depending upon the incidence of deaths in those senior to one, from making post to rear-admiral. It could be Blue at the Mizzen for me as early as the Year Ten, if the French have been obliging and have killed a few admirals or senior captains. I might well wish to take a rest ashore before becoming Admiral in all my glory.”

  “A likelihood of a few years on the blockade for a new-made Rear-Admiral, sir; you will need be well-rested before facing that service!”

  The wind held and they reached the Downs and the difficult waters leading to Chatham; the navigation was not easy for the sandbars often shifted and the safe channels were crammed full with merchantmen waiting a change in the wind that would allow them to make their westing down Channel and into the Atlantic. A fortnight of foul winds could leave two hundred merchantmen at anchor, waiting impatiently for the change that must eventually come.

  They hoisted the flag for a pilot and delayed for an oared galley to come out to them; it was not an absolute legal necessity to take a Thames pilot, but a captain who did not and then ran aground would be many years ashore and with the prospect of only the worst of commands if ever the Admiralty relented.

  The pilot received his fee from the Admiralty, but the placing of five guineas in his hand made him far more willing to make more speed into the Medway.

  “Might I make so bold as to enquire whether Winchester be a weatherly ship, Captain?”

  Sir Iain scowled.

  “Winchester is a rotten slug which makes leeway faster than anything I have seen other than a bomb-ketch, Master Pilot. She is to go to the mud, I believe, on tying up in Chatham. I have nursed her from Portsmouth to Bombay and from there to Montevideo, making various excursions on the way. You have the privilege of carrying her the last few miles of her life, Master Pilot, and I am glad to wash my hands of her!”

  The Pilot nodded thoughtfully, stamped his foot as if to check whether the deck would hold his weight.

  “Strip to topsails, sir?”

  “Willingly, Master Pilot.”

  They crawled into the port and tied up at the Gun Wharf where the Master Intendant inspected their battery and pronounced the great guns to be good and took them all ashore, with the exception of the very large sixty-eight pound carronades, which were discovered to be the private guns of the Commodore and his Captain respectively.

  “Purchased in Bombay, I do not doubt, gentlemen!”

  “Exactly so, sir!”

  They had coughed up eighty guineas, gold, between them, but thought ten apiece for the cannon to be a worthwhile in
vestment for their next voyage; the Master Intendant agreed with them.

  “What is to be done with your guns, Sir Frederick?”

  “If they could be tucked away under cover in a secluded corner of your yard, perhaps, sir? I am given to understand that Winchester is to be replaced by one of the Danes, and no doubt she will be warped alongside to be re-gunned in due time. Fair Isle frigate is also to be put out of commission, sir, her crew again to be transferred as a whole. I know nothing of her battery, sir, but Captain Vereker will certainly wish to discuss it with you.”

  The Master Intendant realised that this meant that Captain Vereker was also not a poor man; he made his farewells chuckling quietly to himself and mentally promising his lady wife the silk dress she had long desired.

  The Port Captain arrived on board and announced that the Admiralty Yacht was conveniently tied up close to hand.

  “You are to present yourselves to the First Lord, gentlemen, without delay. I am to discuss with your premier the transfer of your people, possibly to a newly commissioned two-decker, while you are absent; the exact vessel depending upon which shall arrive first. It is thought that you will not sail for some weeks, sir, and so the crews must be dispersed, but new men will be found at the proper time.”

  Use of the Admiralty Yacht was a privilege rarely granted to officers lower than an admiral in an important command. Lord Mulgrave was very clearly showing his favour. He would probably have been informed by the telegraph from Portsmouth of Winchester’s imminent arrival and have then sent the Yacht down to wait for him.

  “Very pleasant while it lasts, Sir Iain! Let us make all haste!”

  “My Lord, I am pleased to meet you. May I introduce my Flag Captain?”

  “Thank you, Sir Frederick. How do you do, Sir Iain?”

  All very urbane, Frederick noted, three gentlemen together rather than First Lord and his subordinates.

  “I wished to meet with you, gentlemen, in order to discuss at length the orders which led to your recent voyage. Put simply, what and why? You will notice that I am not attended by any secretary or lesser officer.”

  Frederick drew a deep breath; he did not like being frank in this place.

  “In the confines of your office, My Lord, politics! I had been offered a squadron for the Mediterranean – by the previous First Lord, Lord Barham as then was – and it was no longer desirable that a man with my connections should hold so delicate a command. I could not simply be sent to half-pay, it would seem, and so I was given a nasty squadron to perform a task that was at best ambiguous in its nature. I was fortunate, My Lord, in that I came across a situation in the Indian Ocean that permitted me to gain the approbation of the Honourable East India Company. On returning to the Cape I found that I was to assist the Governor there by offering protection to his anomalous expedition to the Rio de la Plata. Whether this had been envisaged in London, I know not, My Lord, but my orders very definitely placed me at the Governor’s disposal. I was able to carry out the instructions given me, but made only the most unsatisfactory contact with the Spanish flotilla that was my prime target. I could not catch them, My Lord! My ships were too slow and even with the wind-gage I simply could not come up with the main body of the convoy. I was forced to rely upon my small ships, who did the very best they could.”

  The First Lord listened and heard the words unsaid – the whole purpose of Frederick’s voyage had been to serve the commercial interests of the City of London. He had been sent off in an ill-found Third Rate and might have sunk in a storm or have been destroyed by the French or Spanish enemy with the good will of the First Lord of the time.

  “Much as I had feared, Sir Frederick. You did remarkably well in the circumstances, sir. What of the frigate Mercure and her, interesting, shall we say, captain?”

  “An old ship, My Lord, like all of the jackass frigates, but, capably handled, could have achieved more than she did. Captain Windsor was not unintelligent; the opposite, perhaps. But he had a somewhat inflated view of his own importance in our world. He achieved a degree of notoriety in Bombay with his very open hints of his paternity, the name being not uncommonly given to royal bastards, and he very firmly believed in Divine Right, it would seem, being inclined to rely far more upon providence than on nautical skill.”

  “Elegantly expressed, Sir Frederick! He died well, however?”

  “Bravely, My Lord, but he allowed a frigate that had been months at sea and trailed a great mass of weed to cross him. No handy little twenty-eight should have been taken so unawares.”

  The First Lord was no sailor, but he had heard admirals who very definitely were, make the same point.

  “Poor seamanship, you would say, Sir Frederick?”

  “I believe so, My Lord.”

  “You would agree, Sir Iain?”

  “Very much so, My Lord. Captain Windsor was an inflexible man, or so it seemed to me. A decision once made, an action commenced, and he would not change his course even though the circumstances no longer held.”

  “Unfortunately common, that particular fault, especially in Parliament. Thus, a brave man, but, between these four walls, a fool!”

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  “The Prince of Wales has shown some interest in the young gentleman’s demise, apparently at the instigation of one of his brothers. I shall assure him that the good captain died nobly in combat with a far superior foe, his actions allowing his comrades-in-arms to prevail in the battle.”

  “That is in many ways true, My Lord, but perhaps as a fortuitous outcome rather than a planned result.”

  “Not to worry, Sir Frederick. We need not concern ourselves with quibbling technicalities. Or with absolute truth – we are dealing with Royalty, after all!”

  The First Lord rang a small bell on his desk, was joined by his private secretary.

  “It remains only to congratulate you on your action north of Lisbon, Sir Frederick, and to inform you that head money will be paid for the soldiers taken and that the warlike stores will be valued generously. A pity that one of the troopers was lost, but you did very well to take the remainder captive. A most impressive achievement, and one that in all probabilities enabled the Portuguese to make their successful flight to Brazil, much to the pleasure of His Majesty, of course.”

  Frederick had wondered if his action against the troopship might have been thought overly ruthless; it had been a long war already, however, and there was little left in the way of sympathy.

  “Now, gentlemen! What do we know of the situation in Spain? To answer my own question, remarkably little!”

  The First Lord stood and paced across to the great wall, covered in charts of all the world’s oceans, and drew their attention to the Peninsula.

  “Portugal was and still wishes to be an ally. Spain, on the other hand, has more commonly been our enemy. Spain is still at war with Britain, but has been making very slight attempt to pursue that war these last few months, as you will have noticed. France may well be in the process of attempting to subsume Spain into the French Republic – we know not. We do believe that Spain is on the verge of civil war as a result of the French ambitions. The effect is, gentlemen, that we require a naval presence on the Spanish coast, but one which will exercise the most delicate discretion, as I am sure you will appreciate.”

  “Bash the French, but not, if it can conceivably be avoided, the Spanish, My Lord?”

  “Precisely, Sir Frederick. You must, if at all possible, give no affront to Spanish honour. The grandees especially must be treated with the greatest of respect. The French have humiliated Spain, but we must be seen to recognise that Spain is an old, dignified and proud kingdom.”

  Frederick was not sure how one could simultaneously rescue a weak country while admiring it as proud and powerful. The first Lord proceeded to make matters worse.

  “There is also the question of what to do about the Russians.”

  “Still, My Lord? I had thought them to have gone home long since.”

  “No, Sir Frederick, they are still in the neighbourhood of the Seven Islands, though it is said that they are giving consideration to making their way west. There are certain gentlemen in London, not unknown to you, who will wish to speak to you privately on this matter.”

  “Ah! I may guess the name, but there is no great need to mention it aloud, My Lord.”