A Press of Canvas: Volume One in the War of 1812 Trilogy Read online

  Amethyst and Jolie reacted promptly to the gun and each backed their foretops’ls, rounding up a few points as they did so. Orpheus sailed on; the order had not been given for the topmen to lay aloft and consequently, sails were not backed. It was only due to the lightness of the breeze that Fitzgerald could correct his error without sailing out of sight before Orpheus was hove to. Naturally, this correction included berating both Sailing Master Smosky and the Bosun Tice for being as ill-prepared as was Gunner Chase.

  Captain Winston stepped closer to the junior lieutenant and spoke so quietly that none but Fitzgerald might hear.

  “You surely won’t win any praises from the boat crews bringing their captains across; we could have been several cables closer had you heaved to when you signaled them to.”

  The captain was not one to mince words, nor did he suffer fools gladly. Fitzgerald’s performance had been a comedy of errors and Captain Winston became highly exercised when any king’s ship, but most particularly his own, did not perform with the highest level of competence and seamanship.

  “The warrants let me down, sir. They were not ready as I had instructed them to be, and Tice had no men aloft to back the tops’ls…”

  The eyebrow shot up, then returned. His eyes glowed in anger, and his expression, when the young lieutenant saw it, stopped his pathetic litany of excuses in mid-sentence. Winston spoke quietly, but there was an ominous undercurrent to his words.

  “You mean they didn’t pull your chestnuts from the fire, do you not, Mr. Fitzgerald? You were in charge, not them, and your abilities, or rather your lack of them, will likely keep you a lieutenant until the Admiralty sends you ashore once and for all. As for now, kindly turn the watch over to Mr. Hardy and retire to your cabin until I send for you.”

  “Boat ahoy!” The cry came from the waist of the frigate where Bosun Tice, knowing what was happening had already assembled the appropriate sideboys and bosun mates to properly receive the visiting captains.

  “Amethyst” came the reply, indicating that the captain of that ship was in fact in the boat, and the rendering of proper honors would be expected. As a Post Captain in the Royal Navy, he was entitled to four sideboys and four bells sounded on the ship’s bell as he stepped over the side. All of the pomp was carried out flawlessly, and Captain Winston, now at the waist to greet his guests, escorted Captain McCray aft, admonishing Lieutenant Burns as the two captains stepped away to “Bring young Smithfield aft to the Cabin as quick as ever he gets aboard, if you please.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  First Contact

  Isaac Biggs and his fellow topmen lounged on a furled stays’l at the maintop, awaiting orders from the deck to set t’gallants. The men had remained aloft after getting under way from the captains’ meeting since they were not on watch and were enjoying the cooling breeze which was considerably less noticeable on deck. Biggs noticed the seeming haste with which the visiting captains departed Orpheus and the rapidity with which sail was made on all three ships. Smosky seemed to have a genuine urgency instilled in him and heightened anticipation moved quick as a summer squall through the ship’s company. They were actually going to fight the French, and more importantly, much more importantly, there would be prizes in which they would all share.

  “When do you think we’ll catch up with them, Coleman?” Biggs’ level of enthusiasm was no less than the others even though he was not a British sailor, but an American pressed into service. He still would experience the danger, the excitement, and was entitled to a share in the prize money when it was distributed. The men had practiced on the great guns, and several had been close at hand when Gunner Chase had allowed to the first lieutenant that he thought the crews could actually maintain an acceptable rate of fire while at the same time, hit more or less what they were aiming at. There was no one on board Orpheus who was not eager to go to battle and take some prizes.

  “Maybe tomorrow, Isaac. Believe me, it’ll come quicker than ever you would expect.” Coleman thought for a minute, absently fingering his gold earring, then added, “Even though you know it’s going to happen, and yer even eager for it, it’ll seem a surprise when it does. You mark my words.” His normally smiling face was flat and expressionless. Isaac pondered his friend’s enigmatic words.

  The rest of the day passed uneventfully. The wind continued to be light out of the north-northeast and the three ships maintained their line abreast formation as they moved southeasterly in search of the French merchants and their escorts. The logs showed four and five knots at each half hour interval, and the watch on the quarterdeck felt the captain’s frustration as he tried in vain to gain an extra knot of speed. The ships had all set most every sail they could; tops’ls and t’gallants, and in the case of Amethyst, studdings’ls on the windward ends of her main and fore yards. When the wind did pick up, they would be busy indeed to get some of the sail in before it could do any damage, but that was an acceptable risk to each of the captains, given the limited opportunity to catch up with a sizable French fleet.

  As night fell, the wind did indeed pick up some, and the ships were now moving nicely with the log showing over eight knots at each throw. Captain Winston seemed pleased with this, but was careful not to show the crew that his enthusiasm matched theirs; he felt it necessary to maintain an air of aloofness from the men and his officers, not only to maintain his natural separation from the two groups, but also to keep everybody attending the ship carefully. He did call the evening watch together as they assembled to relieve their mates.

  “Men, I fully expect to see the French at first light on the morrow. That is not to say we could not see a light from them tonight if they are showing any, and those of you posted to lookout duty must be more than usually vigilant. Should one of you catch a glimmer from anywhere forward of the beam, you must let the officer on the quarterdeck know as quick as ever possible.” He paused, looking at the eager faces, each filled with excitement and anticipation. Few showed any concern or fear. He reached into his jacket pocket and held up the golden coin he pulled out. It glinted dully in the moonlight and held every eye. Winston swept their faces again with his gaze and continued to hold the coin aloft as he spoke. “To the lookout that first sees a sail, or a light that turns out to be the enemy, will go this guinea.” This last he thought might inspire those at the mast heads to stay awake for the duration of their trick at lookout. There was considerable nudging, smiling, and a few risked murmuring, as each of the men thought of the delights a gold guinea would bring ashore until petty officer Toppan, responsible for the starbowlines, commanded “Silence!” in a voice that left no doubt among the members of his audience that to continue talking and skylarking would result in a meeting with the cat.

  The watch was dismissed to carry out their assigned duties, and for once, there was no reluctance to go aloft on lookout duty. The lookouts were still assigned in one hour turns to maintain their sharpness, and even the normally deck-bound waisters and idlers were seeking an opportunity to win the gold guinea. Even though they were not assigned to lookout duty per se, the topmen all headed aloft to their stations, determined that they would see the lights of the fleet first. Biggs and Coleman moved almost to the cap of the topmast, resting on the main tops’l yard while they scanned the horizon one hundred eighty degrees forward. The wind continued to build during the watch, and by midnight, when they starboard watch was relieved, the ship was scudding along at ten and more knots, reaching in a now northerly gale, which allowed a more easterly course.

  As a concession to the increased wind, the t’gallants had been handed before midnight, their poles struck down, and still the topmasts groaned and whined under the enormous strain placed on them; the shrouds and backstays were taut as iron bars, and Biggs commented to Coleman as they reached the deck that reefing or handing the tops’ls in this wind was best left to the larbowlines as, in his opinion, someone would surely get hurt.

  Hardly had the men gotten below and into their hammocks when there was a loud
bang followed by a crash. These sounds were followed immediately by Toppan’s bellow for “All hands lay up on deck!”

  “Have we started the fight?” seemed to be on everyone’s lips. They pulled on trousers and climbed the ladder to the deck they had just left to discover that the fore tops’l had blown out and the sail was shredding itself while the topmen struggled to get it contained. Coleman and his maintopmen leaped into the shrouds of the main mast and headed aloft almost before the bosun had finished bellowing orders to get the main tops’l handed before it too blew itself to ribbons. The larbowlines were already aloft which made it rather crowded on the yard, but Biggs, Coleman, and two others climbed quickly on up to the main topmast, ready to assist their shipmates with the sail as the waisters on deck eased the tops’l halyard, lowering the yardarm, while others on deck heaved mightily on the clewlines and buntlines pulling the sail up in the middle like a droopy bag. This bag, however, was full of wind, and gathering it in and securing it to the yard was no small task. With the extra hands, however, the job was accomplished, and the ship responded to the reduced sail.

  Meanwhile, on the quarterdeck, Captain Winston was discussing with Smosky whether or not Orpheus could safely carry reefed tops’ls and full courses as was Winston’s preference, or whether they should reef both as advocated by the Sailing Master. The captain wanted to give nothing away in the way of speed, and he knew if they didn’t catch up with the French fleet in the next day, their chances of finding them would diminish greatly. He was prepared to cast aside his usual cautious early reefing to attain this end, and while Smosky was most likely correct in his assessment of the wind and conditions, he bowed to his captain, muttering under his breath in his native Russian as he walked away. The ship continued to career through the night, and occasionally, the watch on deck would catch glimpses of lights from both Amethyst and Jolie, the latter struggling to maintain the speed of her sisters, and straining her rigging to its limits. Toward daybreak, Winston came on deck and instructed Lieutenant Burns, who had assumed the watch a few hours before. He assessed the conditions, and made up his mind.

  “Signal the others to shorten sail now. Use the lanterns as well as flags, if you please, but no gun to wind’ard. If the French are where I expect them to turn up, a gun would most assuredly give us away. I want to see what the light brings.” He turned to Bosun Tice who was on the gangway just forward of the quarterdeck. Having heard Winston’s orders to Lieutenant Burns, he stayed close for the next orders which he guessed would be for him. He was right.

  “Mr. Tice. We will reef the courses now, if you please. We’ll continue under reefed courses until we have sufficient light. Kindly carry this out with a minimum of noise. Until I know where the French are I do not wish to give our own position away with a lot of bellowing and caterwauling.”

  “Aye, sir.” Tice moved forward, speaking to his men and starting a few of the slackers with his cane. They were aloft in a trice on the fore and mainmasts and orders were given on deck to haul clewlines and braces in a normal speaking voice. The wind made it difficult to hear to commands, but the men were well trained and had carried out the maneuver so many times that orders were almost superfluous. Certainly the topmen needed no bellowed orders, as the starbowlines had the watch and were well experienced in their jobs.

  The ships in company had likewise reefed and slowed; Captains McCray and Smithfield knew that plunging into the dawn at break-neck speed would be ill-advised and so had been expecting the command to shorten sail.

  As the dawn broke, the lookout in the foremast, standing on the tops’l yard hailed the deck.

  “Eight…no, nine sail. A point to leeward and hull down. Make that ten sail.” He could not hide the excitement in his voice, anticipating as he was the thought of battle at long last, with its resultant prize shares and the golden guinea which he could now claim.

  The words had barely been blown away by the wind when the captain was dashing forward, long glass in hand, headed for the foremast shrouds. As he reached them, he slung the glass over his shoulder and leaped agilely onto the bulwark and stepped into the rigging. He moved aloft with the sureness of foot and grace of a man of fewer years, surprising several sailors who had not before seen him go aloft. When he reached the foretop by way of the lubbers hole instead of the futtock shrouds, a concession to his age, he did not pause, but continued on to the topmast. He stepped onto the tops’l yard and swung his leg around a shroud to steady himself while he brought the long glass to bear on the strange sails.

  “My guess is French, sir.” The lookout was so excited he could barely contain his exuberance, and spoke his opinion, unasked, to the captain. Continuing, he said, “I seen Frenchies afore, sir. They set stays’ls different than us. Sheet ‘em sloppy on top of it.”

  Winston was pleased to have found his enemy where and when he had expected. He said nothing nor did the young seaman notice the eyebrow as it rose quickly, then disappeared behind the long glass. Lowering the brass and leather instrument, the captain said, “I think you are right, young man. You have keen eyes. I promised you a guinea, and a guinea shall you have.” He returned the glass to his eye and studied the fleet for several minutes longer, then without further comment to the astonished lookout, Captain Winston stepped onto the rope ladder to the foretop and arriving there, reached for the lower backstay and came down as smooth as any topman would. He went to the quarterdeck, finding most of his officers already there. Word had spread, and to say they were eager would be gross understatement.

  “Quartermaster, we will have the signal ‘Enemy in sight, two points to leeward’, if you please. Also show ‘Alter course one point to windward’, and ‘Make all possible sail’. There will be no gun for this signal, Mr. Burns. Bosun, have the men piped to breakfast, if you please. I expect we will be engaged by mid-morning. Mr. Smosky, let us shake out the reef in the courses and set the mizzen and main stays’ls, if you please.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Uppers as well as the lowers, I think. It’ll strain her a mite, but speed now is quite essential.”

  The captain paused, looking around to see that everything he ordered was in fact being carried out. He turned to Burns and spoke again.

  “I shall take my breakfast in the cabin now, Mr. Burns. Bring her up a point and let me know at once if anything changes. Also the moment the French are hull up from aloft.”

  The first lieutenant responded and turned away to issue the necessary orders to sail handlers and the helmsmen. The crowd of officers on the quarterdeck dispersed heading to the gunroom for their own breakfast. The ship was at a fever pitch and Burns knew that beating to quarters would be a formality as all the men would be at their battle stations with the ship rigged for fighting prior to the first notes of the “Heart of Oak.”

  He thought to himself that this would be the telling action of his heretofore uninspiring career, and hoped that not only would he conduct himself in the manner expected, but that his actions and conduct would be noticed and forwarded on to the Fleet Admiral for further forwarding, with a seal of approval, to London and the selection board for commands. While Burns had seen some action off the coast of France, and again in the Leeward Islands – this latter under Captain Winston – neither had been sufficiently bold to gain flag notice, he recalled. The first had been when he was still a midshipman and had resulted in the taking of a French brig and her merchant consort. This might have been noteworthy had not the ship he served on been a thirty-eight-gun frigate, easily capable of thrashing a modest brig, which they had indeed done. The second was on Orpheus, and was of similar stripe, only without the benefit of a prize as the brig had caught fire and burned to the waterline and the merchantman was so badly damaged that it was incumbent upon Winston to sink her.

  Joseph, you’re finally going to be tested, he said to himself. This action we’re heading into will be a major undertaking, with the three of us facing at least three and possibly four French fighting ships and potentially armed merchants. There�
�s going to be damage and death aboard Orpheus as well as the other two, but I know the confidence is high in both the gunroom and the fo’c’sle; after all, Orpheus, Amethyst, and Jolie are British ships manned by British crews and as such, are arguably the best in the world since the halcyon days of Drake. We have that strong tradition behind us, and I am confident that the men of Orpheus will do nothing to diminish that glory. I surely hope I do not either. He paced up and down the quarterdeck, watching as sail was crowded on his and the other ships, racing them to a favorable position which would maintain the weather gauge on their enemy. He noticed with some chagrin that he had started to sweat, and a trickle of wet ran uncomfortably down his back.

  Burns had sent Midshipman Blake to the foretop to watch the French ships with a long glass, admonishing him to inform the quarterdeck of the slightest change in their position or course. From deck could barely be made out the top hampers of the nearest ships, and Burns felt confident that the distance was great enough that the British ships would not be noticed for a while yet, giving them the opportunity to close the distance and work more to weather before having to chase down their quarry.

  Time passed; the three men of war worked further to windward while still closing the French fleet, albeit not quickly. The French were still hull down, and while their t’gallant masts and in a few cases their topmasts were visible from the deck of Orpheus, their actions indicated that either they thought they were still alone on the high seas, or the approaching ships would not threaten. As the sun rose higher in the sky, Biggs questioned the delay.