Chapter Six
Orders came to Frederick following a week of leisure, the day after three of the Antigua Squadron made port from a sweep along the island chain.
The Admiral’s offer was, quite obviously, tantamount to a command, and would not have been made had it not been his personal wish. There was a reason behind it, but that was none of Frederick’s business unless the Admiral chose to make it so.
“Yes, please, sir! Jackman is a very steady man, one I have a value for and one whose support will be a comfort to me.”
That should have laid it on thick enough, he thought, and, besides, was fairly much the truth.
“Good.” Farquhar glanced at the folders on his desk, sent his flag-lieutenant away to fetch one not there.
“The fact is, Mr Harris – and ye should know, being his captain – well, to cut a long and involved story short, that is… I must inform ye that Mr Jackman – unbeknownst to him, I believe – is in the way of being a connection of mine, that is… one might say that I knew his mother quite well when I was a captain on station here in the seventies, just before the American War, and was promoted away quite suddenly, and when I returned to this station, two years since, well … I discovered, that is, I had not known …”
Frederick nodded – all was now clear and young Mr Jackman was to be advanced in his career – without being acknowledged, of course, because a bastard could not lawfully become a commissioned officer.
“Gleeson and Arkwright will go with you, Captain Harris, they are your young men to form. You have a coxswain in mind?”
“I believe one has appointed himself, sir. My man, Bosomtwi, will come with me, of course?”
“He is your follower, Captain Harris, must do so. I have been told of his doings on the Hercule’s deck, have been most impressed, have named him in my report.”
“He was born a fighting man, sir, in one of the warrior tribes. I wish that I might be able to send him home again, one day, but he tells me that it is impossible, so he must stay with me, which is my gain, I truly believe.”
“Take as well the two big men who were with him, Captain Harris – they also have earned the right, sir, and should be regarded as your followers, and I believe you have the means to provide for them in later life. My Flag captain will detail the rest of your men. Now, sir, the First of Magpie has been given the gunbrig your Hornet took, as lieutenant in command, so the second becomes first, with a good enough report from his captain. Your standing officers are much as they always are, except that the gunner is forever sure he is ill – the belly ache, the marthambles, griping in the gut.”
“Perhaps he is unwell, sir, poor man.”
“Perhaps he is a bloody old woman, Captain Harris!”
“That also is possible, sir – I shall make it my business to discover which.”
“Do so. Whilst on medical topics, I have also made mention in my report of your surgeon, Isaacs, a brave man, one who should be remembered.”
“Thank you, sir, it is all – and the least – we can do. We should not forget, either, the Frenchmen who died with him, doing their best to save the wounded of both nationalities.”
“In the true tradition of the sea, Captain Harris. The cartel sails tomorrow to Martinique, all of the prisoners you brought in on her, without exchange, in recognition of their comrades’ bravery. I have written a letter to the French authorities expressing my respect for those men.”
“I am glad to hear that, sir. There is yet a place for decency in war.”
That decency would not, however, prevent either from bankrupting every enemy merchant whose ships they could capture or warehouses they might burn.
“Now, Captain Harris. Orders. I want you to shake-down with a convoy to Jamaica and then to cruise south to Trinidad and return up the island chain, looking in at every wharf, fishing village and port on the way. I doubt you will discover anything, but if there is any out-of-the-way occurrence, return immediately to inform me of it.”
This hardly made sense to Frederick, but that was nothing new, it was the navy’s way to be obscure when it felt it had a secret to keep.
All would be revealed, most likely by the lower deck grapevine which would know already in all probabilities exactly what any unexpected ‘occurrence’ was likely to be.
“I shall send you to the Louisianas again after that, I expect, they having showed great profit to you once already. There is talk, though, of a convoy having left there recently.”
Days later there came tell of the Glorious First of June, a protracted battle, it seemed, in which the French convoy escort was almost wholly destroyed, Black Dick Howe crippling a whole French fleet.
Only much later was it noticed that the convoy of more than thirty thousand tons of foodstuffs had passed by virtually unhindered, almost all making port in starving Revolutionary France.
For Frederick the victory went almost unnoticed – he had more important matters to deal with.
There was the vital business of being read in on Magpie, his new first lieutenant having a wonderfully sonorous voice that conveyed a solemn, brooding menace to the admonitions to good behaviour contained in the document, making the ‘peril’ very real indeed.
Introduction could be made then to his officers, only ‘his’ once he had been read in, his commission publicly announced on board.
Fraser, the first and too old, thirty-something, fifteen years passed as a lieutenant, half-pay between the wars, so ten years at sea as master’s mate and lieutenant – he might well be embittered by his failure to progress.
Even if he was promoted now, rapidly to Master and Commander and then post, he would still never fly his flag at sea, age would certainly yellow him, leave him an admiral in name only.
All the rest of his service would be clouded by this knowledge, unless he happened to be one of the unambitious, in which case he would be of small use to Frederick – he wanted a hungry man at his heels, not a complacent, easy-going soul.
Jackman, Gleeson and Arkwright in line, suppressed smiles, hats lifted fully, no mere touching of the brim – Frederick suddenly realised how respectfully they were greeting him, the great man, their patron, he who would carry them up to the heights with him.
He did not relish the responsibility he found; he could not, would not, avoid it.
The master, Munson, older than Fraser, only a slight paunch despite his forty years, very neatly turned out, keen and efficient seeming, confident in the best sense.
Two quite horrible midshipmen – spots were allowed in the navy, but this was taking acne too far.
“Midshipmen Horrocks and Puckett, sir,” Fraser announced, taking great care to enunciate clearly. Well, he knew what their nicknames were.
Finally Fraser introduced the standing officers, solid, indistinguishable, tanned, four-square professional men, each with the same slightly quizzical expression as he surveyed the new young comet crossing Magpie’s firmament; the same mutual, unspoken message – ‘thee don’t frig with me, young master, and I’ll not frig with thee’.
The surgeon and purser stood to one side, both dressed in black – red-cheeked country parsons, one might have said. Both would bear watching, neither was in a profession where benign naiveté was to be expected.
A speech to the people? An extra rum issue? No! He had neither desire nor need to court popularity. They would know of him, and the dozen Athenes would tell them all about him – he had no need to introduce himself, and if they thought him hard at first sight, that would do no great harm.
“Watchkeeping officers to my cabin, please. Will you introduce your mates, Mr Munson? Can they hold the deck whilst we confer?”
“They are capable, sir.”
In his cabin, Bosomtwi quietly organising things as he felt best, enjoying the sudden vast increase in space available, the quarters in the Magpie, for the use of one man, as large as the wardroom of the Athene.
Ablett was there as well, at a loss, wondering just what he should do, where he should be in harbour.
“All well, Ablett?”
“Yes, sir. Thank’ee, sir!”
“My pleasure. Will you look after sword and pistols for me? Keep the sword sharp for when I remember it.”
“Yes, sir.” Ablett risked a grin. “Bose and me, sir, we’ll look after all you need, sir.”
The three officers filed in, Jackman still with a light dressing across his cheek.
“Gentlemen! We have a Jamaica convoy and then a pair of cruises – with luck. We shall be sole escort to Jamaica, so there will be nobody else to blame. We must use the convoy to establish our discipline – tight, but sensible – we are to be no Hermione, gentlemen.”
Nods, mutters of agreement, Munson catching his eye.
“Mr Munson?”
“Hermione, sir. I hear tell she is missing on a cruise off the Main.”
“I did not know that, Mr Munson, but it possibly explains our orders. We are to examine the ports from Trinidad to Antigua – now we know why.” Frederick turned to Fraser. “We are ready to sail, I believe, Mr Fraser. The Admiral tells me that stores are well up. Have the new men arrived on board?”
“A dozen Athenes, sir, two of them the most enormous black men I have ever seen, not tall but two men across the shoulders.”
“Good men, too, Mr Fraser, and very dangerous in a fight.”
It was an unfortunate comment – Fraser had never been in action, felt the lack very keenly.
“No matter – let us get ourselves together before anything else. Sail and gun drill above everything – I know those iron trucks on the guns cut up the decks something cruel, Mr Fraser, but shining white decks are not the most important thing on this ship, sir!”
They nodded, gravely.