West of Ireland, fourth week of March 1781
One of the tasks Darren always enjoyed was taking sightings with his sextant to determine his ship’s latitude and longitude. Darren compared the numbers on the slate with the appropriate tables in astronomer Nevil Maskelyne’s Nautical Almanac of tables, which converted the angle of the sun, moon, and stars into a position on the earth. He prided himself in the accuracy of his estimates of the ship’s position.
Sightings were taken at the beginning of the middle watch (midnight) and the afternoon watch (noon) by Gladius’ midshipmen and the officer on duty. His third lieutenant, Cyrus Tewksbury, who was not much older than the two midshipmen, Bart Jernigan, and Giles Fulton, had the responsibility of training the two youngsters in navigation.
After each noon sighting, the midshipmen wrote down their calculations of the ship’s position on a slate and compared their results with the one taken by Tewksbury. The three calculations were compared to the one taken by the captain and plotted on the chart Darren kept in his cabin. The result was a cluster of four dots, each with the individual’s initials, showing the ship’s progress toward England. What evolved was a friendly competition as to whose position estimate was closest to the captain’s. The midshipman with the greatest number of dots farthest from Darren’s would have to buy a bottle of madeira for the wardroom when the frigate reached Portsmouth. The one with the largest number closest to Darren’s plots would be given £10.
Today Darren had reckoned Gladius’ position as 17o 32’ West, 460 17’ North. The sailing plan was for Dilletante, Madeira and Aphrodite to sail north into the Irish Sea to Liverpool and Bristol with eight of the cargo ships. Liber, which only had seven weeks of provisions, would go straight to Portsmouth. Stirling Cross, Jason, Temptress and Gladius would stay with the remaining ships through the Celtic Sea, up English Channel to a point off the mouth of the Thames. Once the cargo ships were in safe waters, they would also return to Portsmouth.
The ship’s bell rang seven times, signaling there were 30 minutes left in the afternoon watch. That corresponded to 1:30 p.m. Darren wiped the brass frame of the sextant with a cloth and put the device back in its polished oak box with the blue felt liner. The sextant had been gifted to him by Captain Horrocks just before that good man had died, and Darren treasured it. He was latching the box when there was a knock on his cabin’s door. “Come in.”
Bosun’s mate Braxton stuck his head in the door. “Beggin’ the captain’s pardon, sir, Mr. Enfield would like you to join him on the quarterdeck. Lookouts have identified that ship that’s been shadowing the convoy as a Frenchie.”
“I’ll be right there.” Darren took the Dollond spyglass out of its case and headed for the quarterdeck.
The ship that bosun’s mate Braxton referenced had been sighted several times during the past three days. Each time the lookouts could see its top gallants and topsails, but not enough to identify it.
Gladius sent a signal that was forwarded from Temptress to Jason to Sterling Cross, notifying and asking permission to investigate. Rear Admiral Effingham sent back, “Approved. Investigate and discourage as necessary.”
“What have we got, Mr. Enfield?”
“Sir, we’re within three miles of the frigate, three points off the starboard quarter.”
Darren pulled open the brass tube of the Dollond spyglass, also gifted to him by Captain Horrocks, and looked in the direction Lieutenant Enfield indicated. Darren couldn’t see the French tricolor flag, but he did count 13 gunports in a white stripe along the side of the hull.
“Mr. Enfield, you know our orders from the flagship. If you were Gladius’ captain, what would you do?”
“Sir, I’d try and take her. The way she’s been dogging us suggests the captain is hoping for an opportunity to seize a prize, and I’d like to turn the table on him.”
“Or she could be going to St. Nazaire or Brest or Cherbourg and keeping enough distance to avoid a confrontation.”
“That too, sir.”
The French frigate was bigger than Gladius, and her main armament was 26 guns to Gladius’ 20. The question was whether the frigate was armed with French 8-pounders, which were equivalent to the English nines or equipped with 12-pounders. If so, in a broadside-to-broadside fight, Gladius would need to maintain a faster rate of fire to win.
A smile came across his face as he formulated a plan, and he thought, Jaco, my friend, you would approve.
“Mr. Enfield, show our colors to make sure he knows who we are, then loose the top gallants. Once the sails are set, you may beat to quarters. Let’s see if the captain decides to run or fight. Standby to wear ship to a course of so’ west by so’.”
The sound of canvas dropping free of the gaskets and snapping angrily as the sails were sheeted home caused Darren to look up. Already, the men in the yards were starting down the ratlines. Gladius’ speed noticeably increased.
From talking with captains who had fought the French during the Seven Years War, Darren had learned that the Royal Navy ships were often able to out-sail and out-maneuver French Navy ships of similar size. French ships tended to be faster and have more Marines aboard, and their captains often preferred a boarding action over an exchange of broadsides.
What puzzled Darren was the Royal Navy policy of using their ship handling skills to get into position to trade broadsides instead of maneuvering for advantage of position. Doctrine held that discipline and rate of fire from broadsides would carry the day. While this was often true, Darren believed it spilled English blood unnecessarily.
Droplets from the cold Eastern Atlantic splashed on the faces of the men on the quarterdeck. Darren enjoyed the salty taste as he licked his dry lips. Gladius was closing on the French frigate, which maintained its course of due east. He wondered why the French frigate had not changed course nor run out. Their lookouts couldn’t be that bad.
“Mr. Enfield, pass the word that I want the swivel guns manned in the mast head. Have a bag of chain shot brought to each cannon on the gundeck. Do not load until I give the order. Tell Mr. de Courcy that his Marines should take up station on the main deck and his marksmen should be prepared to sweep the rigging of the French ship, if we get close enough.”
Suddenly, the gun ports on the French frigate’s port side popped open and cannon were pulled forward by their gunners so the barrels were well outside the ship’s hull. Other men were moving up the rigging. Slowly the bow of the French frigate turned toward Gladius.
Darren could feel the excitement begin to overcome his fear. “Mr. Watson, pass the word to Mr. Tewksbury and Mr. Enfield to double shot with ball and chain shot. Mr. Spivey, we are going to wear ship to port. New course so’ by so’ east. We’re going to see how well this French captain handles his ship!”
A glance at the tell-tales in the rigging confirmed the wind was coming over the port side. The French captain started to wear his frigate back to its original heading, east.
“Mr. Spivey, new course: so’ so’ west. Mr. Loutitt, trim our sails accordingly. We’re going to threaten the Frenchman’s bow.”
Standing in the upwind forward corner of the quarterdeck, one hand on the railing that crossed the deck and one hand on top of the bulwark, Darren waited for the French captain to make his move. He could either turn the short way to the north or the longer way to a southerly heading. He chose south.
“Mr. Spivey, ease the helm so we are parallel to the French frigate. Let us see how our speeds compare.” Darren knew he was giving up the weather gauge and would be at a disadvantage if he continued south. Gladius was heeled to port; she must either slacken sails to slow or risk being holed below the waterline.
If neither ship changed course, they would pass abeam each other at about 400 yards, well within the effective range of Gladius’ 12-pounders. Since the French captain had not started to angle to get closer, Darren assumed that French frigate had 12-pounders.
He could see the officers on the Frenchman’s quarterdeck. One officer was looking directly at him through a spyglass. Next to him was a tall man wearing the tricorne, the three-sided hat signifying that he was the captain.
“Mr. Spivey, Mr. Loutitt, stand-by to wear ship. New course, due east.”
His quartermaster’s expression said as clearly as words: You want to turn away from the Frenchman?
Impatiently, Darren called out, “New course, due east, Mr. Spivey. Get Gladius turning, NOW!!!”
Darren waited until the bow began to turn before he spoke again. “Mr. Spivey, a confused or overconfident French captain is a good French captain. If he thinks we are cowards, we will soon disabuse him of that opinion.”
Gladius was now three points on the French frigate’s bow. Sailors on the French frigate were in the yards, releasing the ship’s royals for more speed.
“Mr. Spivey, Mr. Loutitt, let’s show the French Navy why Britannia rules the waves. Stand-by to wear ship to starboard. New course due south. We are going to play this tacking and wearing game until either the French ship makes a mistake and we pounce, or we force him away from the convoy. Either way, we win.””
“Sir, the lads are eager for a fight.”
“Aye. A fight we shall have, but on our terms, not the Frenchman’s.” I want to keep the butcher’s bill to a minimum, and Melody does not want me on that list.
“Deck, the Frenchman is wearing ship to the east.”
“Deck, aye.” Darren watched the French frigate turn and then steady up on a so’ easterly course.
“Mr. Spivey and Mr. Loutitt, on my command, tack ship to starboard, new course so’ so’ west. We are going to angle to pass behind the French ship. Mr. Abbott, please inform the gun crews that we may have a quartering shot at about 200 yards. They are to fire as they bear and reload with ball.”
The forward-most cannon on the French frigate boomed, then the second. Geysers rose up 1oo yards from Gladius’ bow.
“Mr. Spivey, wear ship now. New course so’ so’ west.”
The masts and yards groaned in protest as they were pulled around. One after another, the French gunners fired the remaining 11 guns on its broadside. Four slammed into Gladius bulwarks. The popping sound of punctured canvas caused Darren to look up. He counted two holes in the foremast mainsail and two in the mainmast’s mainsail. One by one, Gladius cannons fired. Those looking could see the hits but no visible damage. Darren knew the French frigate’s captain was now in a quandary. Gladius’ maneuver had been a way to regain the weather gauge at the cost of enduring a broadside.
The French frigate turned to the so’ east but couldn’t sail as close to the wind as Gladius, lost speed, and fell off to a course of so’ by west.
Darren ordered Gladius to wear around to the east. As the Royal Navy frigate passed within 200 yards of the French ship’s stern, Darren saw its name was Picard. Gladius’ cannons hammered the French frigate. In retaliation, both aft-facing 6-pounders on Picard’s quarterdeck fired. The balls struck Gladius but did little damage.
Overhead, the distinctive, sharp bark of the swivel guns sounded between the boom of 12-pounders. Once the stern of Gladius passed that of the turning Picard, Darren yelled, “Mr. Watson, wear ship to port. New course, Mr. Spivey, nor’ by east. We’re going pass behind the Frenchman again.”
Darren saw the ratlines to Picard’s mizzen mast part. French Marines fell to the deck, while others clung desperately to ropes that were now streaming with the wind. The tall man wearing the tricorne with gold braid was gesturing with his arms as he issued orders. He had to have guessed what Darren intended.
Gladius’ bow was passing through east when everyone on board heard a loud Crack! Those on deck looked up at their own masts, and then, seeing they were still in position, looked over at Picard. Its mizzen mast was crashing down, bringing with it the white flag with fleur-de-lis of the Kingdom of France. Men were dodging falling debris or running forward with axes to clear the deck. Before the number 1 gun on Gladius’ port side was in position fire, the tall man on Picard’s quarterdeck waved at Gladius with a white piece of canvas, probably from one of the mizzen sails.
Daren bent over the quarterdeck’s forward railing and bellowed, “CEASE FIRE!!! CEASE FIRE!!!” Once this was acknowledged, he turned to his quartermaster. “Mr. Spivey, wear ship to starboard to take station with Gladius’ bowsprit within one hundred feet from the port quarter of Picard’s stern. Mr. Loutitt, slacken sails as we coast in.”
Once Gladius was close enough for voices to carry back and forth, Peter De Courcy, who spoke the best French, yelled out, “Avez-vous abandonné?” Have you surrendered?
The French captain nodded and replied, “I am Capitaine Gaspard Moulin, and yes. I do not wish to continue this charade.”
“Stand-by to receive a boat. We will bring over you and your first lieutenant.”
“My first lieutenant was killed, but I will bring René Blanchard, another officer.
Lieutenant Nathaniel Watson was standing at the ready when Capitaine Moulin climbed up the ship’s ladder, followed by a young man who was not much older than Lieutenant Tewksbury. As was proper, Moulin had brought his sword, and he addressed Watson in clear, although accented English.
Watson led the way his captain’s small cabin. Darren had a loaded pistol within easy reach, and Peter De Courcy stood armed with a pistol in each hand.
Moulin stopped, bowed, and drew his sword, which he offered horizontally and hilt first to Darren. But Darren said, “Sir, I don’t need your sword. What I do need is your word of honor that you will do as I request.”
“If it is reasonable and does not harm my crew, but of course. We are your prisoners.”
“If your ship can make six or seven knots, you will follow me until we catch up with our convoy. At that time, Picard will be given a station to keep. If you try to escape or attack any of the cargo ships, Picard will be pounded into splinters and your men will be food for the sharks.”
Another bow of the head. “D’accord. We will have our mizzen mast repaired to carry sail shortly. Then we will follow you.”
“Mr. Watson will give you some basic signals to use. I would like to get underway as soon as possible.”
“I prefer to fire my guns to empty them; is that acceptable?”
“Yes, as long as you are firing at the sea.”
Moulin smiled. “But of course. May I ask you one question?”
“Please.”
“Why did you not come alongside to fight in the traditional English manner?”
“I did notice the invitation you extended. But I prefer to maneuver to gain an advantage. This reduces the casualties on my ship.”
Moulin pursued his lips, thinking, This young man with the unruly hair may not look the part of capitaine, but he has brains.
