Pirates and Prisoners Chapter 3 Lesson at Sea
Posted: Wed Jan 11, 2023 4:28 am
The sun rose above the horizon as the two men met on the dock at English Harbor. “Well,” Robert Kerr grinned as he shook Thomas Phillips’ hand, “our new Master and Commander, here to take over his first command.” He gave his friend an intense look. “You look like you didn’t get any sleep last night.”
“I didn’t. I was too excited to sleep.”
“I’m glad you admitted it. I don’t think I’d like sailing with a man that doesn’t understand the importance of the event. I tried hard to bring you along to this point. I believe you will serve the King well. Don’t make me wrong.”
“I won’t. Were you able to find more ammunition? I’m not so worried about food, we’ll find it. But I’m concerned that I must be ready to fight as soon as we leave the harbor.”
“We’ve made some adjustments.” Kerr explained, “We believe this pirate ship is armed with a mixed battery of twelve and eighteen-pound guns. I planned to arm you with eighteen thirty-two-pound guns. But, considering the ammunition situation, you’ll have ten thirty-twos and eight eighteens. So, you have fewer but bigger guns than we think your enemy will have. And this is a fine sailor. I don’t think he can outrun you.”
Kerr frowned. “I am worried that you don’t have enough powder to practice live firing. You’ll have to have your gun crews drill without actually shooting. I’ve done the best I could. Come along; I’ll introduce your officers.”
In the next few minutes, he met his Lieutenants, sailing master, carpenter, and surgeon’s mate. There was no time for more than brief introductions. Kerr walked Phillips to the gangplank linking Siren to the dock.
“Well, friend, this is where I stop, and you take over. I’ve done the best I can to make you ready.” He sighed. “It hasn’t been easy. A number of us think this is an important task. We cannot defeat the Colonials without defeating these damnable privateers they send worldwide to harass our war effort. The Admiralty orders said as much. Then they sent the men and material all over the world; men and material we need here.”
He smiled and extended his hand. “Good luck.”
“Thank you, sir. We will do our best to make you proud.” Phillips saluted and turned to board his ship. He took his place on the quarterdeck and ordered the first lieutenant to take “Siren” to sea. The crew cast off from the dock, allowing the slow-moving tide to take the ship clear.
Watching the men struggle at their tasks, Phillips shook his head. One man tied a lubber’s knot on a rope securing a cannon. Another dropped an eighteen-pound ball on the deck, which rolled around as the ship rode the waves. Several men laughed as the man who dropped the ball tried to stop it from rolling around. Commodore Kerr had warned him that finding a good crew was difficult. The Royal Navy was scooping up the men it desperately needed for the war.
Phillips had planned to use the more experienced men as standing officers to lead and train the men. But unfortunately, he wasn’t sure he had enough men that knew what they were doing.
As he watched, a man got his leg tangled in the ratlines. As he tried to extricate himself, he lost his hand hold and fell. Now he hung upside down; cursing while his shipmates laughed at him. Finally, two more experienced men climbed the ropes and freed him. A fight broke out as soon as the man reached the weather deck and set about settling scores with the men who had made fun of him. Phillips buried his face in his hands for a moment. ‘It’s going to be a long cruise.”
“Sir?” The helmsmen looked at him.
“Nothing, I didn’t realize I was talking aloud.”
He got the attention of a ship’s boy and told him to round up the officers and have them report
to his cabin. “Tell them to leave their best man in charge while we talk.” He scanned the empty sea. “I don’t think they can get in much trouble here. We need to have training in place. When I accepted this position, I thought I would get a good ship and trained crew.”
One of the officers snorted. “Sir, I believe you were misled.”
“So do I.” Nervous laughter sounded around the table. “I wanted to work the crews on the guns. We needed to hone our fighting skills. I do not believe that now. We must concentrate on basic seamanship. If they can’t work the ship, we can’t fight her.”
At that moment, they heard a shout from the deck. The sound of men running and cursing filled the air. A man screaming in pain added to the sense of disaster. The ship’s boy who had found the officers for Commander Phillips opened the door without knocking and yelled, “sirs, you are needed on deck.”
Phillips made a mental note to talk to the boy about showing respect to his superiors. Right now, he needed to find out what was going on. As he emerged from his cabin onto the weather deck, a sailor ran up to him. “It all happened so fast. I couldn’t help it.”
“Explain yourself,” Phillips snapped.
The main pointed at another sailor in the ship’s waist, howling in pain and trying to reach his legs.
“Another cannonball was not safely stored in the ready-use rack. It slipped out of the rack and rolled across the deck. That man tried to stop it with his foot. It broke his leg.”
Phillips looked back at his officers, trying to remember which one was his surgeon. Before he had to decide, a man stepped forward. “I’m a surgeon’s mate, not a full doctor. I was told this vessel didn’t rate a real surgeon. But if we get him below, I’ll do what I can.”
Phillips waved at two sailors, “get that man below.”
As soon as they disappeared down the companionway, he turned back to his officers. “Well, that is a good example of why we need training. That should never have happened and would not have if everyman knew his job and that of the man next to him.”
The Bo’sun, a man named Goodewell, was next to speak up. “Cap’n, you’re right. We need to beat some sense into this lot. I’ll get the cat.”
He started to go below when Phillips’ shout stopped him. “You will do no such thing. I will not have a man flogged for making a mistake. Especially when that mistake is our fault because the King’s Navy didn’t train him properly.” He saw several of his officers scowling at him.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “I still believe that physical punishment is proper if used to keep discipline. But not for mistakes.”
He paused for effect. “Let’s get to work; we have a lot to do.”
Unfortunately, his plans to start a naval training school fell apart, victim to a poorly disciplined crew. A riot broke out among a dozen men only minutes after his officer’s meeting ended. Phillips never learned precisely what started the fight, except that it involved two men that didn’t like each other, a woman they knew ashore, and a lot of grog. The whole lot was confined to a cabin suitable for conversion to a ship’s brig.
“Goodewell.”
“Sir.”
“Captain’s mast, at four bells in the forenoon watch. I don’t like the whip, but it will be five lashes for each of those men.”
“Should be twenty, sir.”
“Let’s start with five. I still have hopes of making professionals of these men.”
“Aye, sir,” Goodewell replied, still obviously unhappy with his captain.
#
A day’s sailing north of Siren, Ben struggled with similar problems. He had the advantage that about half his crew had sailed with him before. Most of the others had at least some experience at sea. Still, about two dozen knew little about the sea. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir,” O’Reilly began with his usual salutation. “How do people who lived and worked on an island not know anything about boats?”
“Are you reading my mind?”
“Sir, you’re assuming there is something there to read.” Marcus Cunningham climbed up the quarterdeck with a broad grin. “And that Mister O’Reilly can read.”
All three men laughed, but the conversation quickly became serious. “Mister Cunningham, I assume you arranged the watch bill to pair the landsmen with more experienced men.”
“Yes, it’s more like two lubbers and one experienced man. For some – classes-- for want of a better word, I have one experienced man teaching as many as ten landsmen. More efficient. But it’s not easy.”
A sudden storm of Italian curse words drew the attention of everyone on deck. Cunningham pointed at Garibaldi, who was yelling at a circle of seamen he had been instructing. “A case in point.”
“I don’t speak his language, but I can tell Mr. Garibaldi is upset. Why is he trying to teach.”
“The names of the yards, sails, and ropes,” Cunningham answered. “I think it is a lot to digest all at once.”
“I see.” Benjamin bit his lip. “Mr. Cunningham, will you have a word with Garibaldi? I don’t like this screaming at the men. They won’t learn anything from it or become better sailormen. This ship has dozens of sails and yards. The rope that makes up the standing and running rigging is measured in miles. We can’t expect these fellows to learn it all in an afternoon.”
“Sail, ho.” The lookout yelled down from the main mast. “Broad on the starboard beam.”
The three men ran to the rail and quickly scanned the eastern horizon. Benjamin pulled his telescope out of its case and focused it. “I can’t see it. There must be some haze that isn’t noticeable.”
“Lookout, can you still see it?”
“Yes. Not a large ship, perhaps a sloop or brig. I cannot even tell if it’s a warship.”
“What is its heading?”
“Cannot tell, sir.”
Benjamin nodded. “Helm, turn two points to starboard. Let’s see if we can get a better look.”
#
Caitlin spent an hour with Henry and Tabitha composing a note to Captain Allen. In her conversation with the captain, they had worked out a system of coding their messages before he sailed. Some of it made sense to her, such as using the names of different fish to identify types of ships. Then, when these ships sailed, she could list various names such as “George” or “Nicholas” as possible destinations.
Caitlin had lists of other code words. Several factors hampered the process of writing the note. Caitlin’s command of English was uncertain at best, and she could not read or write in any language. She disliked trusting people like Henry and Tabitha to write the note for her, but who else could do it? Tabitha hated the English but did not know where Henry’s loyalties lay.
On top of that, she had no code for “there is a spy on your ship.” She needed to find a way to get the information to Captain Allen. It would be at least a month before it could reach the Allen family home in Boston. Would it still be helpful with time? She had no way of knowing, but she had to try.
While preparing Venus for sea, Allen talked about raiding and the money they would make taking British prizes. But Caitlin was sure he intended to go to Boston first and, if possible, rescue his father. That would be challenging to carry out under the best of conditions. A spy aboard Venus might make it impossible.
Finally, Caitlin and Henry agreed on the wording of their message. They could only hope that he could figure out the meaning of one sentence. “The hidden, but all-seeing eye, will know what happens aboard Venus and report to its master.” That sentence was buried in a verse of a bawdy poem, they both thought Benjamin could work it out, assuming he didn’t just skip over it.
“It will have to do, Miss Caitlin. We will write up several identical copies and send them to people likely to see Captain Allen. I don’t know how else to ensure he gets it. But it increases the likelihood of one falling into the wrong hands.”
Caitlin shrugged. “Do what we can.” She took a deep breath, unsure how to deal with a sudden rush of emotion. “Captain Allen kind to me; he wants father free; I must help him.”
Henry gave her a crooked smile. “I can’t help but notice that you seem a bit taken by this young captain.”
“I have Cornelius. I don’t need another man.”
“If you say so.” Henry saw the look on Caitlin’s face. “I didn’t mean anything, but it seems you like this man.”
“I must go. Thank you for your help. I get letters tomorrow. I will pay you then.” Caitlin wanted didn’t like the look on Henry’s face. She knew he thought her one of the loose women that worked the waterfront. They all thought some gallant sailor would free them. Was the honorable captain Allen and his father her ticket to freedom?
#
Moses Allen lay on the rough deck with nothing but a dirty coat to serve as both pillow and blanket. He no longer had stomach pains; he thought his body was so starved that it no longer reacted to the lack of food. So, he huddled in the dark and tried to sleep while a man somewhere toward the stern screamed repeatedly. He had written a note to his wife, although he doubted she would receive it. She could bring him food. He hoped Ben could raise enough money to buy his freedom.
“If he doesn’t get here soon, I’ll be dead or insane.” Then, as if to punctuate his thoughts, the screaming man began cursing, words spilling out of his mouth continuously. Finally, Moses pulled the coat over his ears and tried to sleep. Next to him, Cornelius labored to breathe; his lungs gurgled every time he inhaled. Moses didn’t think the man would live much longer if they could not move him to healthier quarters.
Book one of The Privateer series now for sale on Amazon
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B09TDW84GD
“I didn’t. I was too excited to sleep.”
“I’m glad you admitted it. I don’t think I’d like sailing with a man that doesn’t understand the importance of the event. I tried hard to bring you along to this point. I believe you will serve the King well. Don’t make me wrong.”
“I won’t. Were you able to find more ammunition? I’m not so worried about food, we’ll find it. But I’m concerned that I must be ready to fight as soon as we leave the harbor.”
“We’ve made some adjustments.” Kerr explained, “We believe this pirate ship is armed with a mixed battery of twelve and eighteen-pound guns. I planned to arm you with eighteen thirty-two-pound guns. But, considering the ammunition situation, you’ll have ten thirty-twos and eight eighteens. So, you have fewer but bigger guns than we think your enemy will have. And this is a fine sailor. I don’t think he can outrun you.”
Kerr frowned. “I am worried that you don’t have enough powder to practice live firing. You’ll have to have your gun crews drill without actually shooting. I’ve done the best I could. Come along; I’ll introduce your officers.”
In the next few minutes, he met his Lieutenants, sailing master, carpenter, and surgeon’s mate. There was no time for more than brief introductions. Kerr walked Phillips to the gangplank linking Siren to the dock.
“Well, friend, this is where I stop, and you take over. I’ve done the best I can to make you ready.” He sighed. “It hasn’t been easy. A number of us think this is an important task. We cannot defeat the Colonials without defeating these damnable privateers they send worldwide to harass our war effort. The Admiralty orders said as much. Then they sent the men and material all over the world; men and material we need here.”
He smiled and extended his hand. “Good luck.”
“Thank you, sir. We will do our best to make you proud.” Phillips saluted and turned to board his ship. He took his place on the quarterdeck and ordered the first lieutenant to take “Siren” to sea. The crew cast off from the dock, allowing the slow-moving tide to take the ship clear.
Watching the men struggle at their tasks, Phillips shook his head. One man tied a lubber’s knot on a rope securing a cannon. Another dropped an eighteen-pound ball on the deck, which rolled around as the ship rode the waves. Several men laughed as the man who dropped the ball tried to stop it from rolling around. Commodore Kerr had warned him that finding a good crew was difficult. The Royal Navy was scooping up the men it desperately needed for the war.
Phillips had planned to use the more experienced men as standing officers to lead and train the men. But unfortunately, he wasn’t sure he had enough men that knew what they were doing.
As he watched, a man got his leg tangled in the ratlines. As he tried to extricate himself, he lost his hand hold and fell. Now he hung upside down; cursing while his shipmates laughed at him. Finally, two more experienced men climbed the ropes and freed him. A fight broke out as soon as the man reached the weather deck and set about settling scores with the men who had made fun of him. Phillips buried his face in his hands for a moment. ‘It’s going to be a long cruise.”
“Sir?” The helmsmen looked at him.
“Nothing, I didn’t realize I was talking aloud.”
He got the attention of a ship’s boy and told him to round up the officers and have them report
to his cabin. “Tell them to leave their best man in charge while we talk.” He scanned the empty sea. “I don’t think they can get in much trouble here. We need to have training in place. When I accepted this position, I thought I would get a good ship and trained crew.”
One of the officers snorted. “Sir, I believe you were misled.”
“So do I.” Nervous laughter sounded around the table. “I wanted to work the crews on the guns. We needed to hone our fighting skills. I do not believe that now. We must concentrate on basic seamanship. If they can’t work the ship, we can’t fight her.”
At that moment, they heard a shout from the deck. The sound of men running and cursing filled the air. A man screaming in pain added to the sense of disaster. The ship’s boy who had found the officers for Commander Phillips opened the door without knocking and yelled, “sirs, you are needed on deck.”
Phillips made a mental note to talk to the boy about showing respect to his superiors. Right now, he needed to find out what was going on. As he emerged from his cabin onto the weather deck, a sailor ran up to him. “It all happened so fast. I couldn’t help it.”
“Explain yourself,” Phillips snapped.
The main pointed at another sailor in the ship’s waist, howling in pain and trying to reach his legs.
“Another cannonball was not safely stored in the ready-use rack. It slipped out of the rack and rolled across the deck. That man tried to stop it with his foot. It broke his leg.”
Phillips looked back at his officers, trying to remember which one was his surgeon. Before he had to decide, a man stepped forward. “I’m a surgeon’s mate, not a full doctor. I was told this vessel didn’t rate a real surgeon. But if we get him below, I’ll do what I can.”
Phillips waved at two sailors, “get that man below.”
As soon as they disappeared down the companionway, he turned back to his officers. “Well, that is a good example of why we need training. That should never have happened and would not have if everyman knew his job and that of the man next to him.”
The Bo’sun, a man named Goodewell, was next to speak up. “Cap’n, you’re right. We need to beat some sense into this lot. I’ll get the cat.”
He started to go below when Phillips’ shout stopped him. “You will do no such thing. I will not have a man flogged for making a mistake. Especially when that mistake is our fault because the King’s Navy didn’t train him properly.” He saw several of his officers scowling at him.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “I still believe that physical punishment is proper if used to keep discipline. But not for mistakes.”
He paused for effect. “Let’s get to work; we have a lot to do.”
Unfortunately, his plans to start a naval training school fell apart, victim to a poorly disciplined crew. A riot broke out among a dozen men only minutes after his officer’s meeting ended. Phillips never learned precisely what started the fight, except that it involved two men that didn’t like each other, a woman they knew ashore, and a lot of grog. The whole lot was confined to a cabin suitable for conversion to a ship’s brig.
“Goodewell.”
“Sir.”
“Captain’s mast, at four bells in the forenoon watch. I don’t like the whip, but it will be five lashes for each of those men.”
“Should be twenty, sir.”
“Let’s start with five. I still have hopes of making professionals of these men.”
“Aye, sir,” Goodewell replied, still obviously unhappy with his captain.
#
A day’s sailing north of Siren, Ben struggled with similar problems. He had the advantage that about half his crew had sailed with him before. Most of the others had at least some experience at sea. Still, about two dozen knew little about the sea. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir,” O’Reilly began with his usual salutation. “How do people who lived and worked on an island not know anything about boats?”
“Are you reading my mind?”
“Sir, you’re assuming there is something there to read.” Marcus Cunningham climbed up the quarterdeck with a broad grin. “And that Mister O’Reilly can read.”
All three men laughed, but the conversation quickly became serious. “Mister Cunningham, I assume you arranged the watch bill to pair the landsmen with more experienced men.”
“Yes, it’s more like two lubbers and one experienced man. For some – classes-- for want of a better word, I have one experienced man teaching as many as ten landsmen. More efficient. But it’s not easy.”
A sudden storm of Italian curse words drew the attention of everyone on deck. Cunningham pointed at Garibaldi, who was yelling at a circle of seamen he had been instructing. “A case in point.”
“I don’t speak his language, but I can tell Mr. Garibaldi is upset. Why is he trying to teach.”
“The names of the yards, sails, and ropes,” Cunningham answered. “I think it is a lot to digest all at once.”
“I see.” Benjamin bit his lip. “Mr. Cunningham, will you have a word with Garibaldi? I don’t like this screaming at the men. They won’t learn anything from it or become better sailormen. This ship has dozens of sails and yards. The rope that makes up the standing and running rigging is measured in miles. We can’t expect these fellows to learn it all in an afternoon.”
“Sail, ho.” The lookout yelled down from the main mast. “Broad on the starboard beam.”
The three men ran to the rail and quickly scanned the eastern horizon. Benjamin pulled his telescope out of its case and focused it. “I can’t see it. There must be some haze that isn’t noticeable.”
“Lookout, can you still see it?”
“Yes. Not a large ship, perhaps a sloop or brig. I cannot even tell if it’s a warship.”
“What is its heading?”
“Cannot tell, sir.”
Benjamin nodded. “Helm, turn two points to starboard. Let’s see if we can get a better look.”
#
Caitlin spent an hour with Henry and Tabitha composing a note to Captain Allen. In her conversation with the captain, they had worked out a system of coding their messages before he sailed. Some of it made sense to her, such as using the names of different fish to identify types of ships. Then, when these ships sailed, she could list various names such as “George” or “Nicholas” as possible destinations.
Caitlin had lists of other code words. Several factors hampered the process of writing the note. Caitlin’s command of English was uncertain at best, and she could not read or write in any language. She disliked trusting people like Henry and Tabitha to write the note for her, but who else could do it? Tabitha hated the English but did not know where Henry’s loyalties lay.
On top of that, she had no code for “there is a spy on your ship.” She needed to find a way to get the information to Captain Allen. It would be at least a month before it could reach the Allen family home in Boston. Would it still be helpful with time? She had no way of knowing, but she had to try.
While preparing Venus for sea, Allen talked about raiding and the money they would make taking British prizes. But Caitlin was sure he intended to go to Boston first and, if possible, rescue his father. That would be challenging to carry out under the best of conditions. A spy aboard Venus might make it impossible.
Finally, Caitlin and Henry agreed on the wording of their message. They could only hope that he could figure out the meaning of one sentence. “The hidden, but all-seeing eye, will know what happens aboard Venus and report to its master.” That sentence was buried in a verse of a bawdy poem, they both thought Benjamin could work it out, assuming he didn’t just skip over it.
“It will have to do, Miss Caitlin. We will write up several identical copies and send them to people likely to see Captain Allen. I don’t know how else to ensure he gets it. But it increases the likelihood of one falling into the wrong hands.”
Caitlin shrugged. “Do what we can.” She took a deep breath, unsure how to deal with a sudden rush of emotion. “Captain Allen kind to me; he wants father free; I must help him.”
Henry gave her a crooked smile. “I can’t help but notice that you seem a bit taken by this young captain.”
“I have Cornelius. I don’t need another man.”
“If you say so.” Henry saw the look on Caitlin’s face. “I didn’t mean anything, but it seems you like this man.”
“I must go. Thank you for your help. I get letters tomorrow. I will pay you then.” Caitlin wanted didn’t like the look on Henry’s face. She knew he thought her one of the loose women that worked the waterfront. They all thought some gallant sailor would free them. Was the honorable captain Allen and his father her ticket to freedom?
#
Moses Allen lay on the rough deck with nothing but a dirty coat to serve as both pillow and blanket. He no longer had stomach pains; he thought his body was so starved that it no longer reacted to the lack of food. So, he huddled in the dark and tried to sleep while a man somewhere toward the stern screamed repeatedly. He had written a note to his wife, although he doubted she would receive it. She could bring him food. He hoped Ben could raise enough money to buy his freedom.
“If he doesn’t get here soon, I’ll be dead or insane.” Then, as if to punctuate his thoughts, the screaming man began cursing, words spilling out of his mouth continuously. Finally, Moses pulled the coat over his ears and tried to sleep. Next to him, Cornelius labored to breathe; his lungs gurgled every time he inhaled. Moses didn’t think the man would live much longer if they could not move him to healthier quarters.
Book one of The Privateer series now for sale on Amazon
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B09TDW84GD