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CHAPTER 16
May 1815
For the next several
weeks, the Laconia sailed due west, taking advantage of
the trade winds. The voyage was fairly uneventful, save for the
occasional thunderstorm. Nearly reaching the outermost Bahamas,
the ship turned and began to make its way to the northeast, using
the Gulf Current as an assist.
The trip proved
very profitable to Captain Wentworth in many ways. With Dr. Maturin
safely delivered to Commodore Aubrey, Wentworth could relax -
the time for secrecy was done. His easier manner had a beneficial
response upon the crew. They became the single organism he desired
rather than the collection of individuals they were at the beginning
of the voyage. The gunnery had improved to such an extent that
practice was reduced to twice a week.
Many of the men
attributed this change not to the removal of either the good
doctor or the wicked Pyke but to the influence of Mrs. Wentworth.
They were not far from the truth. Frederick used this time to
become better acquainted with his wife. He knew Anne, to be sure
- both personally and biblically. He was surprised to discover,
during the first fortnight of the trip, that there were still
things to learn, however. Her daily habits (she liked to awaken
slowly, she bathed before dinner); her eccentricities (she despised
any bacon that was not dry-crisp and her prayers always took
ten minutes); what she enjoyed and what she disliked. He bore
it all with good humor - he had his own demons to conquer.
His jealousy and
temper had served him ill; it had put a strain upon his marriage.
Arrogantly he expected Anne to trust him when it came to life
aboard ship; but he had not placed his faith in her decided attachment
to himself. With shame he recalled Anne's words to Harville in
Bath. He knew then that Anne was the most excellent of
women; why had he forgotten them after she was his forever? He
resolved to put away the orange-eyed monster for the rest of
his days; to take far greater forbearance in controlling the
angry beast within; and to never have cross words with
Anne ever again. He would prove to be mostly successful.
As for Anne, she
came to know she had lessons to learn. Sophy was right - to be
married to a ship's captain was to have two husbands; and two
occupations too. With mortification she now saw that she had
- unintentionally - placed Frederick in an impossible situation.
There were times when he could not be her captain and her husband
at the same time. It was her duty to know when those occasions
arose and to support the man, if she wished to sail with him.
And so she took to her study of the Good Sailor's Wife
with a vengeance, for being separated from Frederick was intolerable.
The last thing Frederick
wanted was a diminishment of Anne's spirit. So together, in the
quiet of their sleeping quarters, the two came up with a system
of signals and private words. Each agreed upon solution was celebrated
in the most delightful manner…
One morning Anne
came up on deck just after seven bells in the Morning Watch.
The Laconia was sailing northeast in a pea soup fog, the
breeze off the larboard beam. Anne looked over at her husband
on the quarterdeck, but said nothing. He was straining to see
through the mist. Finally he noticed her and touched his hat
according to their private signal: I am at my leisure.
"Good morning,
Mrs. Wentworth - you are rather before your time."
"Yes, Captain,"
(she had learned to refer to his thusly when on deck, as to not
diminish him before the crew) "It is very thick today."
"Yes, but it
shouldn't last much longer - see, the wind freshens as we speak."
"Was that thunder
I heard earlier, sir?"
"No - not thunder."
He looked out before the ship again.
As Anne turned to
look out, the fog vanished as if God had wiped His Hand across
the sky. Every eye on the ship saw the same sight, just as the
lookout cried out. A little over a league away, dead starboard,
two ships were drifting very close together.
Frederick and William
clasped telescopes to their eyes at the same instant. "What
see you, William?"
"Two ships…
One a merchantman…yes - British, I should say… the
other - Sir! She's boarding her!"
Price's exclamation
confirmed Frederick's observation: a British merchantman was
under attack. "Come about, Mr. Stokes!" As the ship
turned before the wind, Frederick was working out his antagonist.
French colors - ship-rigged sloop - no more than twenty guns…privateer?
Her rigging's hanging - the merchantman gave a good account of
herself - they haven't seen us yet.
"Seven knots,
Sir!"
"Very good
Mr. Dawsey. Mr. Price, I think we shall beat to quarters and
then serve the men breakfast."
Anne beheld for
her first time a warship truly preparing for battle. The motions
were the same as for gunnery practice, but there was a different
air. She saw a certain gleam in more than one eye as men set
themselves upon their usual tasks. Within minutes the crews stood
by their guns as the Laconia bore down upon her prey.
Messmates were then dismissed by their officers to collect breakfast
for their comrades. As the men began eating by their guns she
noticed Frederick coming up from below decks, belting on his
sword, Nowak following with a tray of food and coffee. She had
not noticed that he had left.
"Mr. Price
- report."
"All men at
action stations and accounted for, Sir. It doesn't seem the Frenchman
has noticed us yet."
"That will
change. Take the deck, Mr. Price. Mrs. Wentworth, shall we…?"
The two sat at Anne's bench, eating their breakfast. About halfway
through their meal there was a change in the activity aboard
the French ship.
"They've seen
us for sure, Sir," said William.
"I agree. Send
for Mr. Mumphrey."
Moments later: "Yes,
Sir?"
"Lt. Mumphrey,
assemble a small boarding crew - no more than six men. We shall
continue after the enemy. You shall go aboard the merchantman,
take command of her and bring her into St. George."
"Yes, Sir."
"See the sailing
master - you'll need an updated chart with our position. Take
everything you will need to get home - trust that nothing will
be aboard that ship. Take Mr. Dawsey with you. Good luck with
your first command, sir."
"Yes sir -
thank you, sir!" Mumphrey gave a huge grin to Price and
scampered below decks.
"There she
goes, Sir," reported Price.
The privateer cast
off from her victim and started away downwind. "Raise the
colors, Mr. Price!" Frederick left Anne's side and took
his usual position on the quarterdeck. He watched the Frenchman
intently. Sharp enough setting sail - oh, ho! Courses are
shot up! That's will slow you down, my friend! "Mr.
Price - set courses."
Moments later the
great main sails were dropped. "Eight knots, sir!"
cried a midshipman. The privateer set all the sails she had,
but Frederick only shook his head. That ship, the rigging
in that condition, in this wind - you'll never do better than
six knots, no matter what.
Mumphrey and his
crew loaded their gear aboard one of the boats. Minutes later
it was swung over the side, ready to be lowered. Wentworth went
forward to bid his lieutenant goodbye. "Take care of yourself,
Mumphrey. Good luck."
"Congratulations,
Alex. See you in St. George!" cried William. Mumphrey, smiling,
waved as he joined his men in the boat. It was lowered to just
a few feet from the water. "Look sharp, there!" said
Price. Long minutes passed until they drew very close to the
merchantman. With a final wave at his friend, William ordered
the boat lowered into the moving water. Expertly, the boat crew
unfastened themselves and the bo'sun's mate steered the rudder
away from the massive hull. As soon as they were clear, the crew
unshipped the oars and began pulling smartly toward the merchantman,
whose sides were now crowded with crewmen waving handkerchiefs
and cheering lustily.
Frederick returned
to his wife's side. "Sir, should I remove myself to my 'station'?"
Anne asked.
"There is no
hurry for that, madam. We shall not be fighting for an hour,
at least."
"You sound
very certain, Captain."
"Oh, yes. Nothing
can stop it. We are both sailing before the wind. We are making
eight knots while that fellow over there cannot do better than
six. As long as we don't lose a spar," he touched wood,
"it is only a matter of time."
"And then?"
He lowered his voice.
"That is up to him, Anne."
"May I stay
up here with you for a while, sir?"
"I should like
it of all things."
Anne joined Frederick
on the quarterdeck, standing almost close enough to touch him
for the next three quarters of an hour. As Frederick predicted,
the Laconia grew ever closer to her quarry with each passing
minute. Anne was struck by the quiet inevitability of the coming
conflict: the men standing by their guns, balls and powered nearby,
a slow-match burning in a tub. The Marines were assembled at
the waist, splendid in their red coats. Every available eye was
on the pursued. The sun broke through the partly cloudy skies
for an instant, flashing sparkles in the waves.
"Frederick,
what are they doing now?" In the tension she forgot herself.
"Ah…they're
putting their water over the side, hoping that by lightening
the ship they may escape. It won't work. There goes some of the
stores - booty from other ships, I shouldn't wonder. The lads
will be unhappy about that."
"Why?"
"Well, it decreases
the value of the prize, don't you see."
"Are they so
sure of victory?"
"In battle
anything can happen… But yes, they are confident. Mr. Price!
I want the starboard guns ready for a broadside, and the larboards
loaded with shot."
William nodded.
Wentworth's planning to rake her.
"Let's see
how ready they are for a fight. Mr. Stokes! Do you think you
can get their attention with the bow-chasers?"
Stokes looked at
the distance with a practiced eye. "Give me five minutes,
Sir, and I can put one through his mainsail."
"See to it,
Mr. Stokes. My dear, I believe it is time to go below…"
Anne successfully
fought the temptation of embracing her husband - her look was
enough to tell Frederick of her feelings. As she approached the
companionway, she gave in to a sudden impulse. "Laconians!
Fight well, my boys, and give those Frenchies what for!"
The ship exploded
with cheers from the crew. "HURRAH FOR THE QUEEN OF THE
BARKY!" Anne turned to Frederick and beheld on his face
an intense look of love and pride. With a small smile she continued
to the orlop, cheers following in her wake.
Her Champions at
Gun 26, the renamed "Lady Anne", were busting with
pleasure. "Ah!" cried Radle. "She does us proud,
she does! Why, Miz Wentworth's a regular Boadicea!"
"Who?"
asked Eades.
On the quarterdeck
Frederick was now able to fully concentrate upon the task at
hand. Slowly the two ships grew closer. On the forecastle, Stokes
was aiming the starboard bow-chaser. Looking down the barrel,
lanyard in hand, he waited for the roll of the ship. As the ship
reached the top of the crest, he pulled the lanyard which triggered
the flintlock on the touchhole. With a crash the 12-pounder rolled
underneath his curling body in recoil as the cannonball sped
towards its target. Stokes waved his hand through the smoke to
see a hole appear in the privateer's topsail.
"A bit high,
Mr. Stokes!" called out Wentworth in good humor.
Stokes bowed to
his commanding officer, moved over to the larboard gun and placed
this shot not a foot from the mainmast. Cheers went up from the
forecastle.
The celebration
was short-lived; the Frenchman opened up with her stern-chasers.
The four-pounders could not reach her target on the fly, but
a ricocheting ball off the waves can do damage as well. Stokes
began fighting the bow-chasers in earnest, but got no closer
to the enemy's masts. The sails, though, suffered terribly.
Frederick could
only admire the Frenchman's courage. He's outgunned and out
manned, yet he proposes to fight. Well, let us see if it is honor
or insanity that drives him. "Mr. Price! I believe we
are in range to give him a fair salute! Prepare to come about."
At about 800 yards,
the Laconia began a turn to the left, bringing her starboard
guns to bear. As soon as the target appeared to the gun captains,
the crews fired their cannons in a ragged broadside, raking the
privateer. Most of the shots stuck home, tearing great holes
in the stern of the ship. As soon as the last gun fired, the
quartermaster brought the ship back before the wind. The entire
maneuver took less than a minute and the Laconia lost
only 100 yards.
Frederick looked
closely at his opponent. There was no sign of anyone moving towards
the French colors. Does he mean to carry this on? Very well.
Frederick waited until they were 500 yards apart when he gave
the order to yaw to the right. This time the larboard guns fired,
and they fired not cannonballs but canister - packages of balls
about an inch in diameter. The effects were immediate - rigging
and sails were torn to pieces, stays flew apart, and a spar from
the mizzenmast was lost. It was too far to tell how many of the
crew were hit. Still the ship sailed on.
Suddenly the privateer
turned to the left and delivered a broadside of its own. A mistake
- Wentworth, sensing such a move, brought his ship back about
so smartly that he took the fire on his starboard quarter. Two
men were down at a 12-pounder on the forecastle. Now at musket
range, the Laconia returned a broadside that tore two
gunports in the Frenchman into one. The privateer fell away,
back before the wind, which gave Frederick the chance to rake
her once again. The larboard guns did so with gusto.
The Frenchman was
limping badly, its mizzen and main masts threatening to go over
the side. Surrender, you fool! raged Wentworth, when a
musket ball slammed into the mizzen mast not two feet from him.
Before he could react, there was a gunshot close by. Wentworth
saw a French sharpshooter fall from the foremast top. "That's
for him!" cried Greengard, his rifle smoking. "Are
you all right, Sir?" he asked as he handed the gun to a
Marine aide in exchange for a loaded one.
"I'm fine!
Prepare to board! Mr. Price, take your division and attack from
the bow! I'll take the afterguard and Marines and come from the
stern!" Wentworth's sword sang as it was pulled from its
scabbard. "Helmsman! Bring me along on our larboard side!"
Just as the larboard
guns were run out for a broadside, switching from canister back
to ball, there was a movement at the stern. "Captain!"
cried Stokes. "Look! She strikes! She strikes!"
Frederick looked
up to see the French flag come fluttering down. "Sir!"
cried Price. "Allow me to give you joy for the victory!"
"Thankee, William
- thankee."
"Man that
is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and is full
of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower; he fleeth
as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay. In the
midst of life we are in death: of whom may we seek for succor,
but of thee, O Lord, who for our sins art justly displeased?
Yet, O Lord God most holy, O Lord most mighty, O holy and most
merciful Saviour, deliver us not into the bitter pains of eternal
death. Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts; shut not
thy merciful ears to our prayer; but spare us, Lord most holy,
O God most mighty, O holy and merciful Savior, thou most worthy
judge eternal, suffer us not, at our last hour, for any pains
of death, to fall from thee."
As Captain Wentworth
continued with the service, Anne looked upon the three canvas
bags, covered in three Union Jacks, lying on three gangplanks,
preparing to be buried at sea. She did not have the opportunity
of knowing two of the men preparing to be so honored, but as
for the third…
"Forasmuch
as it hath pleased Almighty God of His great mercy to take unto
Himself the soul of our dear brothers here departed, we therefore
commit their bodies to the deep, to be turned into corruption,
looking for the resurrection of the body, (when the Sea shall
give up her dead,) and the life of the world to come, through
our Lord Jesus Christ; who at His coming shall change our vile
body, that it may be like His glorious body, according to the
mighty working, whereby He is able to subdue all things to Himself."
At a signal, the
three teams raised one end of their boards, one at a time; and
one at a time the bodies slid into the air, for but a moment,
before entering the all-enclosing embrace of the ocean with a
splash. The two cannonballs sewn in with each body ensured that
the macabre packages would quickly journey to the depths of Davy
Jones' Locker; the possibility of the Sea giving up her Dead
before the Coming of Christ practically eliminated.
Recalling herself
to her situation, Anne noted that Frederick had completed the
service and had replaced his hat upon his head. She took his
arm and returned to the cabin.
"To our dearly
departed shipmates." toasted Frederick.
"Here, here,"
replied the table.
"Are you well,
my dear? Are you bearing up, at all?"
"I am fine,
Captain Wentworth; I am in perfect health," Anne answered
while wiping a last tear from her eye.
"It is a melancholy
thing, to be sure. Those forecastle men were in your division,
Mr. Price?"
"Aye, Sir;
and good men they were, too."
"I must say
I was surprised about Tarleton - I never saw that he had come
up on deck…"
"I saw him,
Sir," answered Greengard. "I believe he wanted to take
part in any boarding - he had his sword with him."
"There wasn't
that much fire from their tops - one of those sharpshooters nearly
got me as well."
"My regrets,
mon captain… Such is war…" The French captain
said in way of an apology.
"Think nothing
of it, Captain. I take it your men had rifles?"
"Oui, monsieur.
But such a conversation to be had, with Mrs. Wentworth here!
You must forgive us, madam."
Anne nodded in thanks
to the French officer, again befuddled by the customs of the
sea. Only a few hours ago these men were trying to kill one another;
now the captain of the privateer (a French Naval officer in charge
of a converted merchantman-of-war) was Wentworth's dinner guest,
drinking their wine. He was a prisoner-at-large, having given
up his sword and was on parole until he could be exchanged. He
was even given Lt. Price's old cabin, now that Colonel Tarleton
had no more use for it (the special cabin built for Doctor Maturin
had long since been struck).
"I am afraid
I am new to the customs of the sea and the rules of war,"
she admitted. "What happens to you now?"
Frederick leaned
forward. "As soon as the Saint Jean is ready to sail,
Lt. Price shall take her into Bermuda as a prize of war. Captain
Lacombe and his officers -" (his remaining officers) "shall
sail with us - they have their parole."
"And the crew
of the French ship?"
"Those not
wounded -" (or dead) "will remain on the Saint Jean,
held below decks under guard. Mr. Price will have a prize crew
with him to sail the ship."
"And are they
to spend the rest of the war in Bermuda?"
"Alas, non,
Madame," answered Lacombe. "My men and I are destined
to a far chiller clime - Halifax. Hopefully, our stay there will
be of short duration."
"You expect
to lose the war?"
The officers exploded
in laughter. "Oh, ho ho ho… It is good to find such
a charming innocent! Forgive me, Madame, I meant no offence…"
"My dear, the
French officers will be held until an exchange of prisoners may
be arranged," explained Frederick.
"And the men,
too…?"
At that the French
captain lost his good cheer. "Non. They are condemned
to a prison ship until the cessation of hostilities."
"As are our
men held by the French." Wentworth nodded. The disease on
gaol ships was legendary.
"Oui."
"Then, gentleman,
may we drink to a cessation of hostilities?" Anne raised
her glass.
The party all raised
their glasses. "To peace - be it ever so sweet - and may
it come soon," intoned Wentworth.
"Here, here,"
responded the party.
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