Dewey Lambdin - The King`s Commission

"But to man that many guns, and provide a guard force for both works, and still leave at least two hundred troops free to operate against Captain Dixon, would make how many, do you think?" Nelson asked, trying not to give the impression that he might like to tear King's head off, even if he did. "If there were other ships escorted here, of which I now am informed."

This is damned interesting, Alan thought, watching the young man grill the older (and, surprisingly, senior) post-captain over the coals. So post-captains can act just as ill with each other as any pack of surely midshipmen fighting over shares of a pudding?

"It would make over five hundred men, sir," Alan guessed aloud. "My captain says there's nothing much on the other islands, so Grand Turk is the key, and they must have located all their force here."

"And you are. sir?" Nelson asked, turning to face him. He didn't look pleased to be addressed, and thrown off the topic.

"Lieutenant Lewrie, sir, of the Shrike brig. First officer. I stand in for my captain, Lieutenant Lilycrop, who's in surgery now."

"The officer wounded ashore with me, sir," Dixon added.

"Yes, Mister Lewrie, over five hundred men, with twenty-four pounders," Nelson said, turning to address all of them. "We put, what, about one hundred sixty-five men up against a French regiment, and a fortification with artillery heavier than any piece we have at our disposal. But, we may still seize the day. I propose to shift the frigates opposite the town to reduce the fortification. If we start now, we may pound upon it all night if need be. As for the brigs, make a demonstration above Britain Bay, at the far end of the island, to get the field troops marching that direction. Then, at first light, we land here, after taking anchor in Hawk's Nest Anchorage, on the other side of the island from the town and battery. They shall have to abandon the work up north, and we may now concentrate our forces against theirs properly."

"Would it not be better to blockade the place for now, sir?" Captain King advised, shaking his head. "Send one of the brigs off to summon Admiral Hood? He must be back on station by now, after watering at Port Royal. Heavy guns and Marines from the liners…"

"Weakening the blockade of Cape Francois, Captain King," the diminuitive "commodore" replied, rejecting the suggestion with an energetic wave of his hands. "Perhaps their expedition had that as a secondary goal. No, we have a chance to confound our King's enemies here and now. With enough energetic action, enough alacrity, we may still prevail."

"I'd like to point out, though, sir," Captain Dixon said with a heavy look, "that even if we stripped every vessel present, the French can still field more troops, and once ashore, we'll have no field guns to counter their battery. It was dirt, and they could dig guns in anywhere they wish, once they see where we land. They hold the upper hand when it comes to moving on interior lines, whilst we are forced to sail all around the island to find another beach."

While Nelson was digesting this view of things, there was a rap on the door, and Nelson bade whoever it was enter, with an exasperated tone to his voice.

The officer who entered was Lieutenant Osborne, first officer of Albemarle. "Excuse me for interrupting, sir, but the winds are come more westerly, and still quite fresh. Another hour and we'll be on a lee shore."

"Yes, thank you for telling me, Mister Osborne," Nelson answered, massaging his brow with long, slim fingers. He used his other hand to spin the map of the island about to stare at it. "There is no good holding ground on the eastern side. Shallow reefs and shoals, and then a steep drop off to truly unfathomable depths. Hawk's Nest Anchorage is possible, but under the guns of the battery, and too far for useful fire from our pieces." He gave a heavy sigh, a bitter realization that even the seas and the winds conspired against him, and Alan felt quite sorry for him. The man had rushed in hoping that he would gain a quick victory against light forces, and he had been misled by the intelligence he had received. The French ships taken by Resistance and the other frigate had not carried the expedition, they had escorted other merchantmen or transports, who had equipped the place for a long defense, with heavy guns. Now Nelson would have to admit defeat, and sail back to his admiral with news of his repulse. Better he had done what King suggested in the first place; keep an eye on the island and send word immediately to bring line-of-battle ships that could shoot the battery and works to flinders, land nearly a regiment of Marines and reduce the garrison.

"Even the sea and winds aid the damned French," Nelson mused, as if God had turned out to be a Hay-Market tout, and had given him a false report on some horse on which he had bet the family estate. "Gentlemen… let us weigh anchor at once and work off this shore before we start dragging anchors in bad holding ground. No sense losing a ship, or another man, on this miserable island."

"And the expedition, sir?" Captain King asked, as if he liked rubbing salt in wounds. Or had the tact of a mastiff.

"I fear I must concur with Captain Dixon's estimate of the situation at the last. No, weigh and head back for the squadron off Cape Francois." Nelson scowled, turning away to look out the transom windows, unable to face them in his moment of failure.

"How is the captain?" Alan asked, once he was back aboard his ship.

"Mister Lewyss thinks he'll live, sir." Caldwell told him in a soft voic. "Left him a good stump, sir. Didn't suffer much, nor make a sound."

"Thank God for small blessings, anyway. Mister Caldwell, I'd admire if you took over as first officer, acting lieutenant. Your mate to rise to sailing master."

"Aye. sir," Caldwell preened. "Though I hate to prosper at the captain's sorrow, sir. I must advise you, sir, the wind's come westerly and…"

"Yes, get us under way soon as you can. Lay out the sweeps if you think they might be necessary. Easier than being towed out by the boats. Mister Fukes, prepare to get under way!"

"Aye aye, sir!"

"We still going to try something else against these Frogs, sir?" Caldwell asked as the bosun's pipes shrilled for all hands on deck.

"No," Alan snapped. "They're too strong. The captain's going to lose his ship for nothing. Goddamnit, I'm getting tired of this."

"You and me too, sir," Caldwell agreed.

They veered out to take up their stream anchor, hauled back up to short stays on the bower, and got under way. The wind and waves were too much, and she paid off immediately, rolling her larboard rail almost under, even under bare poles. "Sweeps, Mister Fukes!"

Like an ancient oared galley, Shrike extended her sweeps, too few to Alan's eyes, but they needed strength to finish hauling up the anchor by the capstan, fish it in and ring it up on the catheads. More hands were already aloft, loosing the spanker and jibs, leaving only twenty or so hands to pull at the long oars. It was enough to hold her head up to the fresh breeze until the rudder could bite, and the fore and aft sails could give her forward motion.

Not trusting to square-sails until they were out beyond the reefs, they short-tacked away from the lee shore, employing the sweeps to get her head around on each tack and keep her driving forward no matter how slowly, until the sails could fill and impart drive. The leadsmen in the forechains swung their shorter sounding lines continually, until they reported no bottom. Then, when even the deep-sea lead could find no bottom, they hauled their wind to the south and loosed topsails and courses, now out over the abyssal depths of Turk's Island Passage.

Some of the other ships had had to use their row-boats to tow them out against the wind until they had room to pay off when loosing sails. Shrike had to stand off and on the coast until all vessels were safely at sea and in company together.

"Neatly done, sir," Caldwell told him once the off-duty watch had been allowed to go below and the ship was out in her proper element.

"Yes, we hadn't worked with sweeps before, but they did well," Alan replied. "We did a lot better than the others."

"Aye, sir. Um, I'll expect we should have someone strike for master's mate."

"How would Mister Rossyngton do, would you think?"

"Well, sir, he's a bit flighty for me." Caldwell frowned. "Long enough in the Navy, I expect, but my word, sir, he's a terror."

"It did me a world of good to get some little responsibility as acting master's mate. And it is only temporary. Let's give him a try."

"Aye, sir. Um, something else, sir. What about the captain?"

"Well, we can't sail for harbor for one wounded man, and I'm sure the captain would not let us, once he comes around," Alan replied. "We'll rejoin the squadron and see what they say. If Mister Lewyss thinks he will recover, he'd probably prefer to do it aboard his own ship. If we can be fitted with a false leg below the knee, he should do alright."

"No, sir," Caldwell said, throwing water on the tiny flickering embers of Alan's hopes. "They'll pack him off home, whether he heals or no. New commander for us, looks like."

"Poor old bastard," Alan muttered, feeling guilty all over once more about staying aboard during the landing. "Should be me in there less a foot."

"I think he would have gone, even if you'd been whole, sir," the sailing master told him, taking off his glasses and pulling out a large pocket kerchief to polish them clean of salt spray. "Something grand to do before the war ends, to make a name for himself. It was his last chance."

"Just like this Nelson fellow." Alan nodded. "Like my old captain in Desperate . To make amends for an earlier failure."

"Aye, sir. Like that thing up in Florida. Clear his name."

"But damnit, Mister Caldwell, we didn't fail in Florida!" Alan protested.

"Somebody thinks we did, sir, and that's the same thing." The older man shrugged. "Wonder what Captain Nelson failed at before, to make him so eager to tackle the French here?"

"Who knows?" Alan replied.

The next morning, with Sand Cay, the last speck of land of the Turk's and Caicos Islands just under the horizon, Albemarle signaled Shrike to close her, and once close alongside, ordered her to back her tops'ls and heave to. As they wondered what the matter was, a boat set out from the flagship's side, bearing little Captain Nelson. He scrambled up the side and took the salute from the side-party, then advanced to where Lewrie and Caldwell were standing.

"Good morning, sir," Alan said. "What is the matter?"

"I have come to see your gallant captain Lilycrop, Mister Lewrie," Nelson told him. "I trust he is well enough to see visitors?"

"Aye, sir, he is," Alan replied. "If you will allow me to lead you to his quarters? Mister Caldwell, would you take the deck?"

"Admiral Barrington took the highest number of casualties," Nelson said as they walked aft. "It is my intention to go there later, to see to their needs. Your captain is recovering?"

"Still in much pain, sir, as I'm sure you'll understand," Alan replied, mystified that Nelson was making the effort. Was he salving a guilty conscience that people had been hurt at his orders in a doomed adventure? "I saw him this morning, and he was awake, mostly."

"Your surgeon holds hopes for his recovery, then, sir?" Nelson pressed.

"Aye, sir. He's very strong for his advanced age. Spent a lifetime at sea, you know," Alan told him, feeling the urge to put the needle in at Nelson's expense. "This was his first command. And now he'll likely lose it."