HMS Aphrodite (Sea Command Book 1)

  HMS Aphrodite

  Richard Testrake

  Copyright ©2015

  Richard Testrake

  v.4

  Dedicated to my wife Peggy, my daughter Lisa and my son Charles

  Table of Contents:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter One

  The Honorable Charles Alfred Mullins, Lieutenant, RN, pulled his hat down firmly on his head as he stepped into the boat that would take him to his new command. The brisk wind threatened to put this article into the water and he had no wish to entertain the watermen nearby.

  The Pool of London was crowded with shipping today, and the two oarsmen had their work cut out for them, skirting the other traffic, as they transported this officer to his new gun-brig. Mullins himself was still in a state of bewilderment. Still a very young man, he had been handed a commission by the captain of HMS Courageous and told he was now a lieutenant.

  Captain Phillips had not actually been involved in granting the commission. He was merely the messenger. The parchment had actually come from the Admiralty itself. Mullins had served as acting lieutenant in times of need before, but he had never had the opportunity to take his boards, which was usually considered a necessity if a midshipman wished to find promotion. No longer ‘acting’, he now had his commission, along with the orders for this new command.

  Mister Mullins was almost certain that his father, a Member of Lords, was the responsible person. With little communication between them, he had never been able to quite explain to his parent just how the Royal Navy really worked.

  He expected a word in the ear of another Member, perhaps with a little patronage thrown his way, had been the catalyst. At any rate, there was little for the new officer to do about the deed now, except to pray this did not reflect badly upon him later in his career.

  By rights, he should have been posted to some third rate, where he would have served as its most junior lieutenant, gradually absorbing the knowledge he must have. Instead, he had been given the command of HMS Havoc, a new twelve-gun brig, right out of the builder’s yard.

  The thought occurred to him that perhaps the politician who had managed this favor for his father was perhaps not quite a friend. There would be ample opportunity for this new officer to royally foul his hawser and destroy his career before it began.

  Musing about his good luck, he was caught by surprise when the challenge, ‘Boat Ahoy’ came over the water. Glancing at him and catching his nod, the cox’n answered, ‘Havoc’. The bowman hooked on the main chains and Mullins grabbed onto the manropes as he made his way up the side.

  There was the usual stamp and clash as the dozen Marines on board did their ceremonial while the boson’s mate twittered his pipe. His officers were waiting for him on the flush quarterdeck and one, a lieutenant who would not be shaving for another year or so, stepped forward. Doffing his hat, he named himself as Lieutenant Lassiter and introduced Mister Midshipman Wallace.

  The standing officers stepped forward, with Master’s Mate Waters foremost, followed by the bosun’s mate, gunner’s mate, carpenter and assistant surgeon.

  Mister Lassiter already had the hands drawn up on the foredeck and was prepared when his new captain handed him the orders to be read to the crew. The first officer did his duty without embarrassing himself and now Lieutenant Mullins, RN, having been ‘read in’ was captain of HMS Havoc.

  Captain Mullins turned the crew over to Mister Wallace who was the present officer of the anchor watch, and invited Lassiter to show him to his cabin.

  When the boatyard had turned the brig over to the Navy, the captain’s cabin had been a plain, unadorned space, the boatyard not having been provided funds to beautify it. Mullin’s father, by custom, kept a balance in his bank for his son to use when he was in London, and Mullins had availed himself of the largess and had a well-filled purse in his chest, to rectify any deficiencies.

  Actually, Mullins was impressed with what he found. The officers and crew had gone to much trouble to present their new captain with a functional living space, complete with hanging bed and a well-crafted combination desk and table.

  The ship’s books were laid out ready to examine. Respecting the effort which had been expended for his comfort, Mullins went to the pile of his belongings piled in the center of the space, waiting to be stowed. Pointing to a large crate with a securely nailed lid, Mullins asked Lassiter if they could have that crate opened.

  While the first officer was at the door explaining to the Marine sentry there what was required, Mullins had found another smaller box, this one secured with a lock. Opened, this one revealed nests of silver cups, goblets, plates and silver. Spread out on the table, they made an impressive display.

  The Marine at the door announced the presence of a tall seaman, who introduced himself as “Aikens, Cap’n of the foretop, sir”. Apprised of the needs of the officers, he pulled out a heavy seaman’s knife and pried the lid from the indicated crate, before departing.

  The crate was full of bottled claret, of which two were extracted and opened. While going through the ship’s books, the officers also discussed the state of the brig and the prospects for sailing soon.

  When the first lieutenant originally reported aboard, there had been almost no crew present, only a few newly-appointed standing officers. Gradually, men straggled aboard, some trained and immediately useful, others marched to the quay in chains who proved to be newly released prisoners from local gaols.

  A day before Mullin’s own appearance, a farm wagon drawn by a pair of heavy horses was driven through the city, and up to the landing, with a crowd of farm laborers escorted by a pair of bailiffs following. These had been sent by Mullin’s father. Some were farm workers who found themselves no longer needed or who had found themselves in some kind of difficulty.

  Mullin’s father was also a magistrate and had been saving up some of the minor miscreants who came before him. When these were advised they could leave their dank prison cell and serve on a Royal Navy warship, most agreed. Those few deemed capable of making the long trip joined the procession.

  The wagon was loaded with the men’s belongings, as well as a store of provisions to sustain them on their journey.

  Supposed volunteers, two dozen men and boys had started out on the journey, but only sixteen arrived at the landing. On the long tramp through the countryside, some had listened to reports of the realities of Navy life and decamped, despite the vigilance of the bailiffs.

  Apprised of the varying deficiencies of the new men, Mullins was matter-of-fact about the problem. He had had ample opportunity in his short career to watch other ship’s crew in similar circumstances, being trained into useful seamen and he was sure the same could be done with these.

  At least these farm laborers seemed to be healthy and strong, who could be useful aboard ship, even if they had no seafaring skills. A day after Mullins had been read in, a pair of ‘John-Company’ ships had arrived from the Orient. Of course, these ships of the East India Company had been met by ships of the Royal Navy before making their w
ay up the Thames, and relieved of a major portion of their crews.

  Now, at anchor in the ‘Pool’, most of the remaining portion of their crews came into the clutches of the Impress Service. Mullins had thought he would get few or none of these experienced seamen, being the very junior captain of an insignificant warship, but was mistaken. A full dozen outraged seamen were escorted by Marines to the quay, where a launch was waiting to bring them aboard.

  Mullins later decided this was more of his father’s work, probably the result of a word in the Port Admiral’s ear. He was in sympathy with the seamen, who had been snatched from their ships after nearly a year away from home, now to be impressed in a King’s ship for a commission that might last for years, without a chance to step onto dry land for even a moment. Their new captain found it easy enough to harden his heart, though.

  The midshipman in charge of that boat also carried Admiralty orders for HMS Havoc. She was ordered to immediately proceed down the Thames to the Nore, there to join a convoy on its way to the Med. Upon arriving, she was to report to the Mediterranean Fleet commander.

  On the way to the sea, Mullins had time to become used to his command. Perhaps realizing a very inexperienced captain was in command of this new brig, someone had sent a senior pilot with a small crew aboard to con the brig down the Thames.

  He soon became aware that he had a rather powerful vessel under his command. Rated as a 12 gun brig, she carried a pair of twenty four-pounder long guns as bow chasers. Guns such as these were more often found in heavy frigates and ships-of-the-line. In addition, she had ten eighteen-pound carronades on her broadsides. Guns as heavy as these were almost presumptuous on a small brig.

  Had all of the guns been heavy, long guns, of course, the brig could never had handled their weight. The broadside guns were very much lighter carronades which threw their eighteen-pound projectiles at reduced velocity at their limited ranges. At close range, these heavy balls, with as much weight of broadside as a mid-sized frigate, could inflict desperate damage upon an enemy who was unwary enough to allow herself to be brought to action at carronade range. Of course, if that enemy realized the deficiencies of his opponent, the tables could be turned. If the enemy remained out of the carronade’s range, she could deliver fire from her long guns to which the brig could find it difficult to respond.

  Immediately prior to reaching the Nore anchorage, the pilot came to Mullins with a proposition. It had been realized before the brig departed that this new vessel, with an untrained crew and inexperienced captain might find herself in trouble in her passage down the Thames.

  Without any consultation with Mullins, a Thames pilot and five men had been put aboard to see the brig to the Nore. . Many ships starting on this voyage were manned by inept crews that needed assistance in navigating the confined waters of the Thames. As Pilot’s Crew, these men were exempt from impressment and earned their wages without fear of being pressed and sent to sea for months or years.

  Upon arrival at the anchorage, the pilot approached the brig’s captain and remarked he might consider discharging his crew now they had reached the anchorage. After all, Havoc had reached the sea safely and had no more need of these specialists. Of course, since they would no longer be on his crew, they would have to suffer the same opportunities for impressment as any other professional seamen. For the sum of one guinea, he was prepared to let his men go. This was actually good business for the pilot. He could replace the men easily enough back in London from the many seamen desperately eager to get one of his warrants exempting them from the press.

  Mullins knew he should be shocked, but having been around the machinations of such persons making their livings by controlling unwary seamen, he was prepared to overlook his qualms. After all, five skilled seamen could be without price in the near future.

  The deed was done at the quarterdeck rail and once the promised coin was handed over, the pilot descended into a waiting trawler. His former crewmen, up forward bantering with some of the brig’s watch standers, failed to notice this little drama. It was only when the brigs’ sails filled to catch the wind did the alarm become evident.

  As seafaring professionals, the seamen knew just how much outrage they could display before the Marines stepped in and matters became more serious. With the pilot gone, there was really no one to whom they could safely vent their anger upon, so by the time of the evening grog ration, relative peace had returned to the brig and her men were slowly becoming acquainted with their new-found mess mates.

  Chapter Two

  The convoy Havoc was to join, had already left. The dozen merchant ships filled with provisions and other supplies for the Mediterranean Fleet were already out in the Channel, under escort by the third-rate 74 gun liner, HMS Pontus, assisted by HMS Belligerent, a frigate of 28 guns.

  Sir Roger Morris, a very senior post captain, commanded the line-of-battle ship. Not the most patient of commanders, Morris had been irritated when he learned Havoc had not yet made her appearance at the Nore when he was ready to leave. Feeling that his liner along with the frigate were more than enough protection for the merchants, he gave the order to sail.

  Both escort and convoy had their difficulties as they worked their way out to sea. The merchants had the very minimum of crew aboard, for reasons of economy. It was difficult for the individual ship masters to immediately obey ship-handling and course corrections from the escort commander with the few men available.

  HMS Pontus had just returned from the Caribbean where she had picked up a remarkable weed growth on her bottom. Originally scheduled to be breamed, with her bottom cleared of marine growth and new copper applied, she was instead turned around and ordered sent to the Med, where this cleaning might be done at a more convenient time.

  With her old crew having been scattered to other ships, her captain was forced to sail with new hands, a large percentage of them landsmen, with not the slightest knowledge of seamanship. Now in the channel, half his crew was prostrate with seasickness, while the others were being berated by bosun’s mates for their ignorance of their duties.

  HMS Belligerent was in a better state, with a competent crew and a clean bottom. She was still not a fast ship however, and her captain did not believe in frequent gunnery practice. Wishing to keep his white decks pristine, he avoided firing his guns so as to avoid the scarring that would result.

  Passing Land’s End and approaching the Scilly Isles, a masthead lookout in Belligerent was the first to notice their pursuers. Two ships and a schooner, probably out of Brest, were coming up behind them. The ships were small, probably British sloops of war or French corvettes. With nothing like the schooner in British service though, most probably these were French national ships or privateers. Sighted, at first light, barely hull up, it would be a while before they could interfere with the convoy.

  Sir Roger, in Pontus though, was beginning to regret sailing without a larger escort. The missing brig, of course was of no consequence. She was much too small to influence any action. It was just that she could have acted as a shepherd, keeping the convoy in order, while the big ships handled the enemy.

  Following on the same course, Havoc was far behind. Mullins was not at all unhappy to have been left behind. He would obey orders, of course, and report to the Governor in Gibraltar for further instructions. At least he would not need to harry recalcitrant merchant captains for the entire voyage.

  Soon after dawn, with Havoc sailing close to the French coastline, in the hope of finding a fat French merchant vessel, the lookout spotted a pair of corvettes coming from the direction of Brest. Two corvettes at once were more than Mullins wished to face, so he changed course to the north. The corvettes followed him in a desultory manner for a bit, then sheered off as they approached Plymouth.

  A schooner, coming up from the south, then joined up with the corvettes. When the trio steered westerly, Havoc followed. Mullins had the idea he might be able to get a chance at the schooner, if the cards fell his way.

  Well int
o the afternoon watch, Havoc’s captain listened to the blandishments of his steward and went to his cabin for his dinner. He invited Mister Lassiter to lunch with him and the deck was left in the hands of Master’s Mate Waters. After a leisurely meal, during which a pair of claret bottles were emptied, the officers went out on deck.

  Mullins was startled when he saw how close they were to the enemy. All three vessels were French of course, all flying the tri-color. Their details were clearly visible through his glass, and he saw one corvette was pierced for twenty-two guns, while the other carried twenty-four. The schooner, farther out on the flank seemed to have ten small guns.

  Turning to Waters, Mullins asked him sharply why they were so close to the enemy. Waters replied, “Captain, I think they are chasing something. I sent Mister Wallace to the masthead with a glass and he thinks he saw tops’ls on the horizon ahead of the corvettes.”

  “Very well, Mister Waters, I expect you did right. Do not close any farther though until we see what we have ahead of us. If the enemy has a convoy in sight, perhaps we may join its escort and have a bash at them.”

  Wallace was sent back up to the masthead and he soon called down that numerous ships were ahead, coming hull up. His next announcement was that one of them was a third-rate. As the situation became clearer, Mullins became certain this was their own convoy. As such, he felt it his duty to give it what assistance he could.

  Closing now upon the convoy, the trio of pursuers separated, with the corvettes swinging out to either flank, while the schooner went for the rear-most ship, a slow, fat merchantman carrying salt beef and biscuit to the Mediterranean Fleet.

  When Havoc ran up her commission pennant and her Union, a sigh of relief could almost be heard aboard HMS Pontus from her captain. When the trailing brig had first been sighted, it had been taken for another Frenchman. Of course, by herself, Pontus was more than a match for all of the enemy at once. None of them, singly or together, could do the battleship any harm.