HMS Hazard, page 4
Another set of flashes lit up the western cloud base, he counting on his fingers the time between the sight and the sound, trying to calculate the distance, as he would for thunder and lightning. He concluded, when he got above ten, it had to be many miles distant, which did nothing to provide enlightenment.
Yet one notion had to be considered: It might be a British warship engaged in action, perhaps one of the patrolling frigates of the Channel Fleet. It was never going to be a line of battleships: They were at anchor in Plymouth, ready to weigh and offer battle only if the enemy capital ships put to sea. This seemed an increasingly unlikely event since the drubbing they’d received at the Battle of the Glorious First of June.
‘Your opinion, Mr Hallowell?’ was a courtesy; the decision about how to react would be his alone.
‘If our duty permits, sir, I would be inclined to investigate. Our own comrades aside, there are likely to be a number of French privateers in the area. It could be a merchant vessel of ours in difficulties.’
‘Not in convoy?’
Cargo vessels sailing alone, in the third year of the war, were supposed to be a thing of the past and rightly so. Safety lay in numbers, meaning convoys which ran, very often to hundreds of merchant vessels, travelling in company, under protection from the Royal Navy. Gathered from many different ports, but mostly from London, they would congregate in the spacious anchorage off Deal, there to join with their naval escort.
Given such a duty was akin to herding cats, it was not a one to which a King’s officer happily subscribed, but their presence was essential. The escort had to be strong enough to contest anything but a main enemy battle fleet, such commercial armadas being the lifeblood of the nation’s trade. These convoys were thus the source of the funds needed to both fight a war and support and subside continental allies.
They formed an assembly of vessels heading for multiple destinations, the first being Lisbon for the Port Wine trade. Part of the armada would continue on in to the Mediterranean, while the remainder sailed down to the Azores, to detach from there the vessels heading for the Caribbean. This left, to carry on south, those heading for the Cape, India, and the Far Eastern Spice Islands.
‘There are always those who will take a chance if they have a speedy vessel. Of course, I can think of many other possibilities.’
There was a tone of eagerness in the premier’s voice, and Pearce was not immune to the emotion. Yonder lay the prospect of action, and what kind of naval officer would either man be if they did not crave to be part of it. He looked at the slate to assess the speed they were making, in truth no great shakes, which allowed for an appreciation of the time it would take to close with whatever was taking place.
‘I’m disinclined to increase sail, Mr Hallowell, for reasons I hardly need explain.’
‘Of course, sir.’
He knew, as well as his captain, the risks of sending aloft men of limited experienced on a pitch-dark night.
‘If it’s a fight,’ Pearce suggested, ‘it would be too much to expect we can come upon it in time to affect the outcome. But it could leave men needing succour, so it would not serve to just pass on by. Alter course to close, but I see no need to clear for action.’
Hallowell’s ghostly voice denoted quiet agreement, while the orders he issued, which brought the duty watch on deck to trim the yards, were enthusiastically bellowed. Midshipman Livingstone, sharing the quarterdeck, was ordered to go and tell the various bodies who, on hearing the noise, might think their presence was required, to stay in their cots. The youngster came across as confused, which had Pearce proffer soft reassurance.
‘Adventure, Mr Livingstone. This is what you joined the navy for, is it not?’
‘Aye, aye sir’ was an uncertain whisper, which got the Mite a gentle push to send him on his errand.
Pearce stayed on deck, waiting for more evidence of gunfire, the lack of which had him entertain the thought he’d made the wrong call. But it was done now and, in terms of extending the time to reach their proposed destination, it could only be minimal. To reverse his decision might not sit well with the crew, who would now have heard what was afoot. Having tasted action once, albeit in a limited fashion, in which there had been no real risk but the promise of reward, they would be eager for a repeat.
‘Am I allowed to enquire what we’re about?’
Pearce turned to face the very recognisable voice. Oliphant moved closer to appear, like everyone else, spectral in the glim, he, too, wrapped in a cloak.
‘Young Livingston told me I had no reason to stir, so I couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would be required to.’
‘He should have passed you by, but I cannot fault him for failing to do so.’
‘As it was, I was awake. It is not easy to sleep with the ship never silent. How you slumber through constant bells every half hour I cannot fathom.’
‘Can I suggest you engage in more activity during the day, as well as fresh air, instead of reading and napping in your berth?’
‘I prefer to take my ease when the chance permits, Pearce. And, as you know well, I lack duties and do not choose to partake of any. I doubt the safety of the ship would be improved if I decided otherwise.’
‘Which I would be obliged to most heartily concede.’ Pearce moved closer to add in a very soft tone. ‘Do I have to remind you, in public, you must address me as captain?’
‘No doubt to stroke your self-esteem.’
The tone of the exchange, though icily polite, could not disguise the constant undercurrents in their relationship. Ever since he had first encountered Oliphant, there had been an air of uncertainty around the man, one he almost willfully encouraged, which extended even to his name. He’d been introduced by Henry Dundas as Oliphant, but Pearce had heard him confidently called by another name, something the man had declined to explain, even when challenged.
This had occurred in Paris, on a mission to encourage those seeking to overthrow the Revolution. It had proved to be not only a fiasco, but actually a deception and a trap. Forced to contrive an escape back to England, circumstances had obliged them to split up, which allowed Oliphant to get home first. Henry Dundas, the man who’d sent them on this wild goose chase, had thus been fed a very tall tale, suggesting an unqualified success instead of complete failure. This aura of fabricated achievement led to their present assignment.
‘You have, I’m informed by the same young man, altered course.’
‘By a few points only, to investigate something of interest.’
‘You feel you have the luxury of wasting even more time?’
The response was sharp. ‘I feel I have the deck and the right to choose.’
Aware of others on the quarterdeck, Oliphant indicated, with a jerk of the head, the need to talk without being overheard, one to which Pearce felt obliged to respond.
‘I will be in my cabin, Mr Hallowell. Call me if anything requires attention.’
They entered to the smell of coffee, which had Pearce smile at what had been a commonplace with Michael O’Hagan. The giant bruiser of an Irishman had to be the least likely looking servant any captain had ever employed, albeit he’d been assiduous in carrying out his duties. On taking up the responsibilities of the master-at-arms, Michael had taken care to ensure his replacement, a fellow called Derwent, knew the ropes, as well as the captain’s habits.
If chalk and cheese had a physical manifestation, it would have perfectly described the difference between the two. Derwent was a slight, soft-spoken, corn stalk–thin fellow from Dorset, and this extended to a subservient manner. Michael’s brute strength and bulk were only half of the very sharp contrast: He had habit of treating his captain as an equal in private and quite often guying him too.
‘I took the liberty, your honour,’ Derwent said, tray and pot balanced on one hand, the other used to steady himself against the door jamb. ‘On account of Mr O’Hagan saying it were the way you liked things if you was hauled out overnight.’
‘For which I’m grateful. Put it on the desk and fetch a cup for Mr Oliphant.’
This obliged them to wait several seconds, in silence, until the request was fulfilled, which pointed up another difference, the requirement for discretion. Pearce would not have cared a jot if Michael overheard what was about to be discussed. He trusted him absolutely, indeed, many times in the past, his opinion on important matters had proved not only valuable but lifesaving.
Oliphant didn’t sit, even when invited, until the cup had been delivered and Derwent had once more departed for his pantry. Even then he waited a few seconds, before opening the door to ensure the servant was not eavesdropping.
‘You never cease to demonstrate distrust’ came from John Pearce, with a sardonic chuckle. ‘I’ve no doubt this extends even to me.’
It was not taken as amusing; indeed, the response was deeply serious. ‘How many times have I said to you, the habit is why I’m still in one piece? Trust has killed more fools than stupidity or happenstance.’
‘We are on a ship at sea, man. Even if you have a host of secret enemies aboard, none can harm you. That is, unless any of the crew have found a way of communicating by sorcery. You are safe.’
‘If not entirely content, and I have not been so since we left Falmouth.’
‘Really?’
‘You spent two weeks, much of it dithering in the Thames, which was bad enough. Now more than another week has gone by and we’re sailing as if on some form of pleasure cruise. Surely we should be going as fast as the wind will carry us? And by what right do you choose to deviate from the direct course you have set, without consulting me?’
‘Consulting you!’
This was shouted loud enough to pass through the bulkhead, Pearce only able to contain his temper for so long. Yet he was annoyed at himself and worked hard to calm his irritation. The raised voice must have been heard on the deck and would set tongues wagging.
Besides, it seemed to have no effect on Oliphant, who said calmly, ‘Do not seek to deflect me. I’m justified in asking.’
‘You’re not’ was imparted in a normal tone, not without difficulty. ‘But there are sound reasons.’
‘Which are?’
‘Those that fall to me as the captain to decide. So accept it, only as a courtesy, if I choose to explain.’
Pearce poured the coffee, then indicated Oliphant should sit down, in a manner that left him no choice. Still suppressing his annoyance, he outlined his motives, this to a fellow not in the least willing to accept an explanation. Not even the fact, at sea, if it was felt another vessel was in danger, there was an obligation on all to seek to assist.
As he was talking, another matter was nagging him. Given how little Oliphant knew about ships and sailing, Pearce was left with a query of his own. Where did that remark about a ‘pleasure cruise’ come from?
‘Do I sense you’ve been asking a few questions of the crew you so mistrust?’
The response was defensive. ‘And why would I not?’
‘The fact it may be bad for discipline should be a consideration.’
‘Which I term as rot. I say again we are well behind where Dundas expects us to be, which leaves no time for sailing slow. You were present when he insisted time was pressing, and this was driven home in his letters. So you cannot plead ignorance, in which case my previous question stands.’
‘I daresay you anticipated a better set of hands, as did I, proper seamen. But we must do the best with what we have.’
‘I know the reasons why it was the case. I’m less sure as to why this is so now.’
‘They are the same as pertained previously.’
Oliphant made to speak, but a sharp gesture stopped him.
‘If you want to criticise anyone, take it out on the sods at the Admiralty. I didn’t consider myself that high in their judgments as to be the cause of such malice and, if I am partly so, it’s a sideshow. I suspect in taking out the experienced crew they set out to humbug Dundas, by making it plain his ministerial authority, by which he oversees the army, did not extend to the navy. So when he demanded they provide a ship, they gave him one, but then ensured he was gifted with men utterly lacking in skill and with no time to change matters. Yes, I can crack on, setting everything we have aloft and seeking maximum speed, which would be a good way to bring on the exact opposite.’
‘Stuff’ was Oliphant’s uncertain reply.
‘To do as you ask would see the crew never off the deck and me and my officers with them, a situation we have only just ceased to require. They would be shifting, setting, and altering sails every hour of the day and, if you had your way, at night as well for days on end. How many men would make a mistake, would be injured by being fatigued and pushed into tasks they are as yet uncertain how to perform, sometimes like tonight, in the pitch dark? How would it play with hands still new to their duties, to be worked to the bone, and how long do you think it would be until we suffered some damage to the ship or the rigging?’
Oliphant sought to look defiant; to Pearce it came across as petulant.
‘As of now, they are, in the main, slowly learning their duties. So I should go back to our master. Ask him if he would be happy to drive the crew hard to gain a few knots of speed, risking, in the process, the contentment of these men as well as the safety of the ship?’
‘How do you know it was Williams?’
‘Because you’re not the only one aboard with a deductive ability. My officers would never talk to you about such matters and my midshipmen are too ignorant. You’re not the type to condescend to conversations with a common seaman, even if you could find one who knew anything, which the majority don’t. It doesn’t leave much to guess at.’
‘I have good reason to speak with him.’ Seeing Pearce’s irritated curiosity, Oliphant added, ‘Mr Williams obliges by keeping me informed of our position.’
‘What difference does it make to you knowing?’
If Oliphant was stuck for a reply, it did nothing to dent his air of justified frustration.
‘You should share my concerns instead of deriding them. I doubt failure will endear you to Dundas and I don’t have to spell out what that could mean. You have this command by his gift, one that can just as easily be removed. That’s something, I feel, given the lack of esteem in which you’re held, the entire naval service would cheer. In the face of their low opinion, what hope can you have of another command, or even a place?’
The sound of the bell being rung on the quarterdeck, to signal seven bells, informed Pearce the watch would change in half an hour. It also told him he would have to be on deck in less than four hours himself. Dawn came early at this time of year.
‘A risk I will have to take and one by which you will just have to abide. Please do not pretend it’s me for whom you are concerned. It’s your own future employment which is causing you to worry. Lose the trust of Dundas and he’ll throw you on the scrap heap.’
‘I will not deny I have reasons for wishing to keep his good opinion.’
‘Nor should you, but they do not extend to our progress. Now I suggest you go back to the wardroom and get some sleep, something I fully intend to do the minute you depart.’
It didn’t come easily, and no amount of seeking distraction in other thoughts could keep Pearce away from recalling the conversation. It was only after half an hour he realised, when the bell rang once more, how long his fruitless ruminations had kept him awake. Not that the determination to remedy the matter helped much.
Chapter Four
He was fully dressed and on the quarterdeck at the appointed hour, as was Samuel Oliphant, as ever, far from happy at being roused out pre-dawn by the hullabaloo of the ship coming to life. With no repose possible, he’d chosen to come on deck, granted permission to be there as long as he stayed out of the way of John Pearce. He also had to avoid impeding Hallowell and Worricker, the four midshipmen, Mr Moberly, the lieutenant of marines, along with a half dozen of his eight men, now lined up, muskets at rest.
The ship had been cleared for action, bulkheads down to provide a clean sweep fore and aft, with the cabin and wardroom furniture struck below. The gunner, Mr Low, in his regulation felt slippers, was sat behind a wetted screen, the passage to the gunroom covered in damp sand, while the fellow newly designated as yeoman of the powder room was standing by in the filling chamber or light room.
The carpenter, Towse, had a small band of helpers standing by to effect repairs should they engage in battle, while the surgeon, Mr Cullen, and the pair chosen to assist him were below, ready to receive casualties. All was as it should be for Pearce, bar one concern: The excessive amount of time it had taken to man, load, and run out the guns, a precaution mandatory at first light in wartime to guard against surprise.
He had, in the Thames, instituted as much practice as he could within the limited time left over from other vital tasks, even buying extra gunpowder in Faversham to facilitate extra firing drills, hoping the excitement of actual firing would bring on encouragement. If it had brought a better standard it was nowhere near enough to even hint at what was required.
Worse was the evidence of fumbling, not too much of a problem in what was a routine daily duty, with time to make adjustments, which would not do if they found themselves in sight of an armed enemy. Even then, there was usually time to prepare, matters at sea rarely being subject to immediate gravity.
But it was what would follow which lay at the seat of his concerns. The first discharge could be controlled, even carefully aimed if properly supervised. It was the rate at which his crew could reload and get off a second or any subsequent salvo that mattered. They needed to achieve the rate of fire necessary to subdue a foe, as well as strike home on their target in a rolling broadside. It was upon such ability to outgun the enemy the Royal Navy depended, the source of their battle superiority. Lacking it could put HMS Hazard at a severe disadvantage.
There was nothing he could do about it now. It had to be put aside so he could concentrate on the present duty, keeping alert to any threat that may appear with the dawn. The first tinge of grey had begun to show to the east, though the western seascape was still in darkness, which made surprising the cry from the masthead.
