HMS Aurora: A Charles Mullins Novel (Sea Command Book 3) (11 page)

Observing a ship’s launch from a ship going into ordinary, pulling a pair of spars behind, Major Gibbons wondered about the purpose. Carter explained the subject ship, no longer needed on active service, was to be placed in ordinary, or reserve. Her masts and spars would be sent to the large mast pond where they would float, protected from splitting from the effects of the summer sun.

Watching the spars being pulled by, Carter excused himself and called for his boat crew. Having his crew pull him to the mast pond, the transport captain located the caretaker. Explaining his wants, he was taken to the end of the pond where some old spars remained, some so waterlogged they could no longer float. Pointing to several, he asked to take them. The caretaker was dubious. “Those are rotten, Captain. They will fail in the first squall you find.”

It took a little effort to explain to the caretaker what it was he wished to use the rotten spars for. Shaking his head in wonderment, the caretaker had him sign an indent for condemned spars. The long, waterlogged poles were towed out to the ship and hoisted aboard. Placed fore and aft on the upper deck to dry, he called away his carpenter from his duty.

“Chips, I need you to continue your work on the carriages. But, I have something else for a few of your people to work on. Would you know what a ‘Quaker gun is?”

“Yes sir, back in the American War, some of the Yankee merchant skippers sometimes made up wooden guns if they could not get the real article.”

“Yes, well I want to use these spars to make up some Quakers for our upper deck. I want some of your men to saw them to length and mount some trucks under the sections, so we can run them out, as though they were real guns. After the sections dry out a bit, paint them black.”

“These dozen twelve-pounders we are putting into service are all very well, but we will not want an enemy to realize they are all we have. I hope to convince an interested enemy that we are a fully armed third-rate.”

The missing Redcoats finally came marching in to the rattling of a drum, wielded by a twelve-year old drummer boy. Fresh from their training depot, the 150 privates were actually under the charge of Sergeant Hardwick, and a few corporals, although a pair of ensigns accompanied the troops.

Hardwick had served much of his career in India and returned to England when his enlistment expired. Later, after the death of his wife, he returned to the colors, at first shepherding recruits in the depot. Disliking that duty, he did not protest when he was ordered to deliver a draft of men to Portsmouth, for shipment abroad.

At the time, it was thought the men would reinforce an established regiment of foot, but it soon became apparent these men and a unit of the Royal Artillery would together occupy some dismal Danish island. Against his better judgement, Hardwick allowed himself to be persuaded to join the expedition.

Major Gibbons took command of the foot troops. After watching Hardwick get his people loaded aboard ship, the artillery officer confided to Mullins over wine in the cabin that he could not understand Horse Guards sending raw recruits on a mission of this importance. He did admit Sergeant Hardwick to be a capable leader. The ensigns, of course, were useless.

Already late, HMS Odin pulled up her hook and sailed, while the troops were still being stowed below with their kit.

Aurora was still standing off Honfleur at her rendezvous point, her captain wondering if the transport had been taken already. In due course however, Odin’s tops came over the horizon and her escort went out to meet her.

Captain Carter came aboard and was shown to the cabin. Over port and some rock-hard Suffolk cheese, Mullins explained their course and the difficulties they were about to face. Carter, over twice as old as Mullins, and having made this same journey many times before, wisely kept his council.

Until, that is, he sensed he was about to be dismissed, when he brought up the subject of Odin’s guns, both real and spurious. Captain Mullins replied he would like to see these guns. Carter, before coming to his escort, had arranged a signal that would cause the guns to be run out.

The blue peter signal flag at the fore would do this. Immediately, Mullins ordered his first officer to so display the blue flag with its white square center. A moment later, Odin’s upper gun ports opened, and her guns emerged, almost simultaneously, both real and Quaker. The display was realistic enough to convince Mister Burns, their gunner, that Odin’s armament was authentic. Approaching Mister Hardinger, the first officer, Burns wondered when Odin had regained her commission as an active ship-of-the-line.

“I served two commissions on the old girl, and thought it was sad when they made a transport of her.”

Mullins was impressed and ordered his gig prepared to take him over to inspect. Carter was using the Army troops, both foot and artillery, to man the guns. His major problem was, while he did have a supply of rusty twelve-pounder balls, he had almost no powder.

Mullin’s thought a seemingly fully-armed line-of-battle ship might be a convincing argument to bring to the Dane’s attention at their destination. Learning from Carter of his slim professional manpower resources, he promised to send over a gunner’s mate and a supply of powder. Carter, in turn, agreed to continue exercising the guns.

Since the diplomat who would serve as negotiator was prostrate with sea-sickness in a partitioned off space in the great cabin, Mullins had the time to oversee his accompanying transport. He had gained much confidence in the elderly captain and felt the Royal Navy was the loser by not recognizing his skills years before.

Realizing Carter was handicapped with his small number of seamen, Mullins sent over more hands, who could supplement the soldiers Carter was using. The pair was sailing past the Low Countries, when their preparations were tested. A small convoy was sighted, approaching. As the ships neared, it was seen that a frigate flying the tricolor escorted ahead, to windward, while a brig brought up the rear.

Mullins realized he could be in trouble. The frigate was pierced for thirty-two guns, while the brig probably had a dozen more.  he frigate easily outclassed the ship-sloop, even considering her carronades. The pair of escorts could defeat Aurora and then go on to take Odin. Their only chance was to maintain the deception.

The frigate stood away from her convoy to investigate these strangers. Carter raised a spurious commission pennant, then an equally false broad pennant. Then signal flags announcing ‘enemy in sight’ were displayed followed by ‘engage the enemy more closely’.

Mullin could legitimately have been outraged by this lieutenant daring to give him orders, but he understood what Cater was trying to do. If they were to make this frigate captain believe that Odin was really a commissioned third-rate British warship, she would undoubtedly have the senior officer aboard that would be issuing the commands. Of course, the French captain probably did not have the British codes for this month, but there was always the chance they had been obtained, so it made sense to issue appropriate orders.

HMS Odin was a surprisingly fast ship and was closing the frigate probably sooner than that French captain might have wished. The French captain’s decision to turn aside to avoid, gave Aurora a chance to cut inside the frigate’s stern, and give her a broadside from close range. Those raking balls caromed down the length of the enemy ship, tearing and rending everything with which they came in contact.

The frigate had been ignoring the ship sloop up to this point, regarding her as a minor player who could be attended to in due course.

A heavy ball from one of Aurora’s starboard carronades striking her quarter changed that captain’s mind, when it caused major hull damage. Turning into the smaller ship to brush her out of the way, only got her more damage, and now Odin was upon her. With her guns, real and Quaker, bristling from the upper gun ports, Odin fired her twelve-pounders at close range into the frigate. The half-dozen balls impacted her midships and now Aurora was now across the frigate’s stern, pumping broadsides into her, mercilessly.

The frigate, unable at the moment to respond to Aurora, fired her broadside into Odin. Even though the big ship was no longer officially armed, she still had the heavy scantlings of a third-rate line-of-battle ship. The twelve-pound balls fired at her did little damage.

The same was not true of the frigate. A more lightly built ship in any case, she was receiving fire from two sources. Aurora, now on the frigate’s quarter, was steadily pumping fire into her enemy. One of her carronades sent a thirty-two-pound ball into the frigate’s sternpost, disabling her rudder.

Unable to steer, with the supposed third-rate on her beam and the ship-sloop on her quarter, rather than continue to exchange broadsides with the perceived liner, the French frigate Juno hauled down her flag.

There were some repairs necessary after the battle, While the massively built Odin had received little damage, Aurora had been badly knocked about by the frigate’s fire and the Juno was a shambles. Luckily, there was plenty of room aboard Odin for the French prisoners, as well as sufficient Army troops to guard them. Mullins could imagine the Juno’s captain’s chagrin, when he discovered he had struck his flag to a transport.

Mullin’s had first thought he and Carter might receive kudos for taking a modern French frigate, but one of Aurora’s carronades had smashed a huge hole below the Juno’s waterline which was causing major problems. It was only by pumping ship night and day Juno made Anholt Island while still afloat, where the frigate was put on a mudflat. With insufficient resources to make needed repairs, she was left aground for the Baltic weather to finish. Some of her guns were salvaged in order to furnish a battery for the island, if that were needed.

The still incapacitated diplomat had to be physically removed from his bed, but once ashore, he soon recovered his health and began his duty. Only the resident villagers remained on the island and they had no wish to dispute the British. When they found the British would pay hard money for anything purchased, any potential animosity disappeared. It was arranged, to the satisfaction of the diplomat, for the troops be landed for a short stay, and a battery established to defend the light.

Before Odin left, Mullins handed Carter a report to be sent to Admiralty, detailing the action and praising Carter’s seamanship and good judgement, explaining the mission could very possibly have failed without his forethought in arming his ship.

With Odin gone, Aurora had to remain. This was boring duty, with few people with whom he could interact. A pair of additional transports eventually arrived, with specialists aboard, as well as a cargo of firewood for the light and provisions for the villagers. The mailbags brought were doubly valued.

Mullins received a stack of letters, mostly from Doris. Selecting one at random, he learned about Doris’s pregnancy difficulties and how happy she was that her Charles was the father. Mullins was dumbfounded. Of course, he was well aware of how babies were made and he was well aware his own actions had perhaps caused this difficulty but somehow he thought the woman could somehow prevent pregnancy. He had received no information on subject such as this as a young man.

Opening each of her letters, he tried to put them in order by date. He soon found she had usually neglected to date her letters, sometimes just using the day of the week. Occasionally however, she had inserted the month in the letter and he could make some semblance of order with this information as well as the subjects of which she was writing.

In the earlier letters, there was no mention of a coming birth. In later ones, she related she was ill on many mornings. Only in the later ones did she mention that Mrs. Cooper was sure a baby was in the offing. Now, the subjects of her letters were speculations on the sex of the coming infant as well as the various names they might consider. This was too much for Mullins to absorb at one sitting. Fatherhood was a subject that he had never spent much time considering. Of course, it could be expected that most healthy men could plan to gain such status sometime, but Mullins had not considered himself to be at that point yet.

Major Gibbons, the military commander of the island, proved valuable to Mullins. A father many times over, he was always ready to dispense advice. He did come to the point when Mullins first brought up the subject.

“You are sure you are the father of this infant, are you not?”

“Major, I am sure I must be. Doris is a very shy, retiring kind of woman who would never do that kind of thing with a man.”

Gibbon’s reply was, “Well, she did it with you, did she not?”

Failing to bring Mullins around to any other conclusion, Gibbons went on another course.

“Very well, since you are convinced this is your child, what are you going to do about it?”

There was the rub. Mullins reminded Gibbons he was frequently at sea, perhaps on the other side of the world. He forecast himself to be a horrid kind of father.

Gibbons reminded Mullins of the facts facing a fatherless boy of that day. For one thing, the boy could never aspire to be an officer in the army or navy. He would go through life identified as ‘Bastard’. Even if the mother could locate a man to accept the child as his own, would he relish another man raising his child?

Reluctantly, Mullins agreed. Over a bottle of wine in Gibbon’s quarters, he agreed, “Probably the best solution would be to marry Doris.”

That evening, back in his cabin he sat down and drafted a letter to Doris, explaining he had just received her letters concerning her pregnancy, and would marry her as soon as he returned.

He explained he would not be able to leave his present station until winter set in. Then, he expected to be ordered back home. He assured her he would write to her, keeping her appraised of his expected wanderings. With the letter, he sent her a note of hand, the sum should support her for a year.

Life on the island was bleak and dismal for most of the inhabitants. The major industry was fishing, and fish made up much of the local’s diet. A delegation of Danish military officers came to the island under a flag of truce ordering the British troops to leave immediately. The negotiations were left to the diplomat brought out from London, but as he had no instructions, little was done and the Danes departed, with no success.

A few days later, a brig from Admiral Parker’s Baltic command stopped at Anholt, on her way to Britain. From her, it was learned that the British fleet was undertaking to detach Denmark, either by diplomacy or by force, from the League of Armed Neutrality, which Tsar Paul of Russia had arranged among the other nations neighboring the Baltic. The members of that league had hoped to force Britain to acknowledge their right to have unrestricted trade with France.

The lieutenant commanding the brig handed Mullins a sealed packet containing orders which required the captain of any British ship of war to proceed without delay to the waters off Copenhagen, there to report to Admiral Parker, aboard the flagship, HMS London. Mullins hastily scrawled a letter to Major Gibbons explaining his departure and gave it to his cox’n to deliver ashore. As soon as the boat returned, they were off.