Richard Testrake - (Sea Command 2) Read online

  Mullins had had a French tutor as a boy and still remembered a few words of the language, but was unable to carry on an intelligent conversation in French. He knew he should just get up and leave, but he did not have the energy. Unresponsive to the woman, she tried another language, which he took to be German, of which he had no knowledge whatever.

  Then, the frustrated woman said, in perfectly understandable English, “Well, I suppose there’s no point asking you if you speak English, is there?”

  Surprised, Mullins blurted out that he did speak English. With that, the woman ordered him to follow her, and she led him to a room in the rear of the church. It apparently served as a storeroom, but there was a table, and what appeared to be the remains of the woman’s last meal. A heel of bread, a little oil, a bit of cheese and a quarter bottle of wine. She shoved it in front of Mullins and ordered him to eat. A few minutes later, he felt much better than he had in days.

  As he finished, she was able to get the details of his presence on mainland France. He held nothing back, reasoning that she could do to him what she wished. He thought if she decided to help him, he should give her what information she needed.

  When he finished, she explained her own presence. She was Martha Baker. Her husband had been a fisherman from Plymouth with his own boat. She related he had been a good provider but had begun a search for God when their only son was lost at sea on a friend’s boat. Eventually, in addition to fishing, he began to preach his idea of the Gospel to people he met on the street. This was not well received by many, and eventually, he began to be treated as a pariah.

  During this time of trouble, a storm at sea left him stranded on the shore in France for several days, just before the Revolution. Appalled at the seeming irreverence for religion he saw there, he decided to locate to France and build a church. The idea in his mind was to bring religion to these people. He could already speak a sort of French, having conversed with French fishermen for much of his life.

  Mrs. Baker was not anxious to make the move, but she was a dutiful wife and would go with her husband. They sold everything they owned except for the boat and made the move. They bought this small building which Mr. Baker used as a church, with the rear and upstairs for living quarters. The Bakers were not well received in France, but her husband continued fishing and was able to make enough money to feed himself and his wife along with the occasional French seaman who had fallen upon hard times. Early in the Revolution, Mister Baker had taken ill and died.

  Martha would have been destitute save for a pair of displaced Africans who came in the church one morning. Originally taken from a slave ship on its way to the new world, a French naval vessel had dropped them off at Brest’s waterfront. Now free because of the ideals of the Revolution, the men were almost unemployable, with only a few words of French between them. They had been scavenging for food when they found Martha’s church. While she did not regard herself as a woman of God, she felt it her duty to assist any human coming before her needing help.

  Having fed these two, with no place else to go, they remained nearby, doing odd jobs for Martha in exchange for food. A fair sailor herself, she took the men out on her husband’s old boat one day and they tried their hands at netting fish. She soon learned that one of the Africans had been a fisherman himself, back in his African village. He had fished from a canoe on a lake there, and had used a different kind of net, but he was able to adapt to this sailing vessel. They began to bring back catches they could sell in the market, eating themselves the fish they could not sell.

  Life was better for Martha now than it had been for years, but now this war intruded. The revolutionary authorities feared she might be meeting British ships at sea to give away secrets, so began requiring her to take French soldiers on her fishing boat to prevent any mischief. These soldats often refused to help with the catch and always demanded a substantial percentage of the harvest for themselves.

  A visit with the soldat’s commanding officer failed to help, since he then also demanded a share of the catch. She wished she could return to England but feared to make the attempt.

  Mullins asked her if the boat was capable of making the trip across the channel. She said her husband had sailed it over, years ago, but she feared to be caught in a storm. With nothing more to say, she gave him some blankets and advised him to find a comfortable spot on the floor to sleep.

  Next morning, she announced she was nearly out of food in the house and it was time for her to go fishing again. Mullins wondered if he might go along on the trip, to examine the possibilities for escape, but she assured him he would be caught immediately. She said she had to give the local garrison notice whenever she sailed, so a soldier could be posted aboard her boat. She said if she did not do so, her boat would be confiscated. If Mullins were on the boat, the French soldier would arrest him and turn him in to the authorities.

  Mullins wondered, “What if I hid aboard the boat? Once out of sight of land, we could take that soldier and tip him over the side, then continue on out to find one of the blockading fleet.”

  “Oh, Captain Mullins, I could not take a hand in killing another human being. If you insist on that action, I must forbid you the use of my boat.”

  “Very well, what if we were to secure the soldier, tie him and turn him over to the British navy? He would be a prisoner of war, to be released when the war is over.”

  She thought for a few minutes, and then replied. “These soldiers are thieves and would deserve to be held in prison for a time. I must insist though; the soldier must not be harmed.”

  Mullins asked, “What about these Black crewmen of yours. Would they help me take this soldier?”

  She answered, “I could never pronounce their African names, so I call them Matthew and Mark. They seem not to mind. Both men are very ferocious appearing men and I doubt either would have any qualms of inflicting injury upon someone who was intent on doing me harm. I believe the thing to do would be to put it to them.”

  “But Captain Mullins, I gather you wish to leave right away. This I cannot do. I must first sell this building and many of my belongings; else I would be penniless in England. I am afraid we must allow time for the property to be sold.”

  Mullins answered, “Martha, we cannot wait. We will surely be discovered, and that would be the end of any idea of escape. As it happens, I am not without funds myself, back home. I would be pleased, once we land safely, to purchase any property you wish to sell at almost any price you wish to name.”

  Martha was fearful and hesitant, but in the end she agreed it would be for the best if they made a clean break immediately. She excused herself while she visited the garret where her employees resided.

  When she returned, she brought with her two Black men, both of whose faces were disfigured with tribal scars. These men, while tall and slender, were powerfully built and Mullins decided he would rather not engage in physical competition with either. Martha explained she had informed the men of her plans, as best as she was able with the language difficulty, and the pair seemed willing to do their part.

  Martha found an old shirt and hat from her husband, which he put on. Both were too large, but the hat, sitting low on his head did much to hide his bandaged wound. They left the building in a close group, with Mullins in the middle. Making their way to the waterfront, Martha pointed to a small fishing smack anchored offshore. When Mullins wondered how they were to get to the craft, she pointed to an overturned boat on the beach. She said she must now go to the garrison headquarters to report her plans to fish today. She thought he and the two Africans should get the beached boat in the water and row out to the smack. She told him of a cubby up forward where he could hide until it was time to secure their soldier.

  When Mullins tried to turn the boat upright, it seemed to be made of lead, but the two Africans were able to flip it over with ease. The trio dragged it to the water and soon had it floating. A single pair of oars was in the boat. Neither of the two crewmen seemed adept with them, s
o Mullins took over and rowed them out to the smack.

  Someone had gone to much trouble to clean the boat and Mullins had never seen a fishing boat that smelled this fresh. The cubby up in the bow was as described and Mullins cleared out some of the gear inside and arranged himself. It was crowded, but he knew he could stand the discomfort for a chance of a return to safety.

  The two crewmen began arranging the fishing gear for their trip. Mullins had left the little door to the cubby open for ventilation until he saw Martha on the beach with a soldier in uniform. She was waving a towel, apparently a signal for one of the Africans to drop what he was doing and row the skiff to shore to pick up Martha and her guest. The crewman, more used to paddles than oars, made slow work of the transit. Once ashore, Martha deposited some packages in the boat and took the oars herself. With powerful strokes, she propelled the boat out to the smack.

  Long before the boat approached, Mullins had closed up the cubby. In the darkness, he saw sunlight shining through a small knothole, and was able to keep watch on what was happening outside. He saw Martha and the soldier climb over the side. The soldier found a seat on an upturned bucket and sat down, his musket lying on the deck beside him. Martha had handed up a basket of food, with a large, stoneware container of wine displayed on top.

  Without saying a word, the soldier reached over to the basket and took out the jug. Removing the cork, he tipped the jug to his lips and took a pull. Martha and her men pulled up the anchor and set sail, while the soldier sat swilling his wine. There was a good offshore breeze which propelled the smack out of the harbor. With the vessel on course and no obstructions or traffic ahead, Martha lashed the tiller to keep the smack on course and went to her food basket.

  The soldier had already made inroads on the wine, and now pulled a cold roast chicken from the basket, and was gnawing away on it. Martha was burning with anger, which she dared not express. This food had been meant to feed several people for the voyage across the Channel and this boor was demolishing the food supply by himself.

  Deciding to ignore the soldier, she went aft where the pair of Blacks waited for their cue. After draining half the wine, the soldier staggered to his feet and made his way to the rail where he relieved himself over the side. Grunting with satisfaction, he found a clear space on the deck and laid down on the deck, covering himself with his greatcoat. In minutes, loud snores were coming from the soldier’s mouth.

  Grinning, Matthew came forward, examining the sleeping guard and placed his foot on the musket on the deck. Now, Mark came up with a length of line and tied one end to the outstretched arm of the fellow. The line was passed through a ringbolt on the deck and the end seized to the other arm. When he pulled the line taut, the sputtering soldier tried to sit upright, but was held back by the line, while Mathew got another line on one of the kicking legs. A turn was made around the other leg and the deed was done. Mullins, when he emerged from his hiding space, used more line to make a more seaman-like package, but to all intents and purposes this soldier was wrapped as tightly as any goose ready for the roasting spit.

  When the rapidly sobering prisoner began to continually utter threats, Mullins took it upon himself to locate a wad of tow and stuff it into the soldier’s mouth, securing it with line. He could still breathe and mumble but the loud threats were now muffled. By the time all this was accomplished, the smack was well out to sea, with the shore an indistinct line in the distance.

  Mathew, up in the bow, came back and pointed out something on the horizon to Martha. Looking in that direction, Mullins saw a spot of white right on the horizon. He knew it to be a ship’s tops’ls, far in the distance. Later, as the vessel grew nearer, he recognized it as the HMS Hornet, a sloop of war, armed with 16 six-pounder long guns. They were safe.

  Chapter Two

  The refugees soon realized they might be physically safe, but their troubles were not over. Captain Morton of Hornet was a bitter old man who had spent much of his life as an unappreciated lieutenant, with long periods on the beach. Promoted to commander just weeks before, he well knew he must make his mark on this commission or he might never be employed at sea again.

  He was finding it impossible to believe the young seaman he had just brought aboard was actually a King’s officer, with a commander’s commission dated before his own. The young man’s problem was he did not actually have that commission on his person, he claimed it had gone down with HMS Aphrodite.

  Captain Morton was not born yesterday. He knew better than to believe the first words from a man’s mouth. The order to his first lieutenant to press this man as a common sailor was on his lips when a master’s mate standing by the helm doffed his hat and greeted ‘Captain Mullins’.

  This was Mister Waters from Mullins old command HMS Havoc. Captain Morton sharply admonished Waters for speaking out of turn and asked Mullins where he knew Waters. After the explanation, Morton decided he might well have erred and decided to tread lightly.

  He agreed to give both Mullins and Mrs. Baker quarters in the wardroom, but announced he would put a crew aboard the fishing smack and claim her as his prize. Morton assured him he would signal HMS Canada of his presence as soon as she came in sight.

  It was a week before they sighted the blockading fleet. During that time, Martha was upset over the possibility of losing her boat. Mullins, by now having his fill of the arrogant Captain Morton, assured her his claim to the boat would not hold up. In any case, he intended to retain a solicitor on Mrs. Baker’s behalf to inquire about recovering damages for her property loss. Almost as bad as losing her boat was the loss of her two men, Mathew and Mark to Hornet’s first officer, who had ‘pressed’ the men straight away.

  Once HMS Canada was informed by flag signal of Mullin’s presence, Commodore Warren ordered his presence aboard the flag at once. When Morton signaled Mullin’s presence, he did not include his reported rank, merely calling him Charles Mullins. However, the reply from the flag referred to the passenger as Commander Mullins, which disturbed Morton greatly.

  By now, Morton had decided that Mullins might really be a commissioned officer but he was comforted by the notion that he was likely going to be taken down a peg for losing his ship. Mullins had been spending his time writing a report on the loss of Aphrodite. Morton refused to supply him with paper and pen so Mullins wrote out a note-of-hand to the purser to obtain the necessary material, at usurious rates.

  Both paper and ink were of poor quality and Mullins was ashamed of the report’s appearance, but all of the information he could recall was there.

  Canada sent a launch for Mrs. Baker and himself when it was time to report aboard the flag. At first, the atmosphere aboard the third-rate was chilly, and Mullins thought there might be suspicion he had lost his ship through carelessness or neglect. He was separated from Martha at once and he did not see her again until after the matter had been resolved.

  A panel of post captains from the fleet subjected Mullins to several hours of detailed questioning concerning the loss of Aphrodite. Clerks from several ships took copious notes of the proceedings. When the questioning was finished, he was left alone in the wardroom with no hint of what the questioners might be thinking or reporting.

  Finally, a ship’s officer entered the wardroom and told him deferentially that Commodore Warren wished to see him at his convenience. The lieutenant escorted him to the commodore’s great-cabin and waited outside for him.

  Sir John was affable, asking about his father, whom he had known in London. Warren recalled meeting Mullins years ago when he was a small boy.

  He grumbled, “Morton in Hornet thought you to be an imposter sent by the French to deceive us. For tuppence, I would send that old woman ashore where he belongs. I have read over your report and listened to what my captains have gleaned from the talk they had with you. Mrs. Baker, who brought you out in her boat, says she has heard talk on the docks the French fleet will sail for Ireland at any moment, if it has not already. Have you any information concerning this
?”

  Mullins replied, “Sir, I have very poor French, but I do know a few words and phrases. While on the third-rate that sank my ship, I understood enough of what some of the officers were saying to believe an invasion was soon to take place.”

  Sir John replied. “I am going to act on your intelligence. I will say you have done as I asked you when last we met. No disciplinary action will be taken in regard to the loss of your ship. If your information leads us to the French fleet, the loss of your ship will be worthwhile.”

  “Now, what shall I do with you? There are few opportunities for employment in this fleet for a commander that has lost his ship. For the time being, I think we will keep you here on Canada as a passenger. Perhaps an opening may appear later. Have you any questions?”

  “Sir, we left Brest in a fishing boat owned by Mrs. Baker, a British woman who helped me to escape. Captain Morton in Hornet has claimed the fishing smack as a prize. In addition, he has ‘pressed the two African crew members that helped us escape.”

  “I would like to have the boat returned to its owner, Mrs. Baker. In addition, I would wish to claim the two Africans as my personal servants, to accompany me when I leave HMS Canada.”

  Sir John laughed, “Commander Mullins, no one can tell me that you have any great fear of authority. I must tell you that Mrs. Baker’s claim her fishing boat was British will not wash. By her own statement to one of my officers, she says her husband brought the boat to France before the war began. It has remained there ever since. It must be regarded as a British prize, lawfully taken.”

  “Now, Commander Mullins, I had occasion to visit my own prize agent shortly before sailing. It seems he also represents yourself. Mr. Phelps entertained me by detailing the numerous prizes you yourself had brought to his agency. He claimed you are bringing more profit to him than the rest of the Royal Navy together. A suggestion to you. Since Mrs. Baker was instrumental in getting you away from France, perhaps you could show your appreciation by purchasing the rights to the prize from Captain Morton? You could then return the vessel to her as a gift.”