Prizes of Opportunity

St. Georges Channel, fourth week of February 1807

When the lookouts spotted the frigate two points astern, port side, Sirius’ course was nor’ by east. The ship, according to its lookouts, was three miles behind the merchant ship. By its location and the rigging, it was assumed to be a Royal Navy frigate. The steady west so’ west wind was coming over the port aft quarter, pushing the 1,500-ton merchant ship along at a spritely seven knots.

The ringing of eight bells told Captain Caleb O’Brien that the Forenoon Watch was coming on duty. He would come on deck when he finished the entry in his log stating the midnight sighting showed them to be 52⁰ N, 70⁰ 30’ W or in layman’s terms two days from their destination – Liverpool, England. After looking at the frigate which was under full sail. Its royals, along with its top gallants, top and mainsails were all sheeted home. O’Brien concluded that Sirius and the Royal Navy frigate were sailing on roughly the same course.

Sirius was corkscrewing gently in the three-foot seas under partly cloudy skies. O’Brien looked at the setting of his ship’s sails and decided that setting its royals wouldn’t give them enough additional speed to justify the strain on the masts and rigging. Another quick look at the yellowed canvas sails of the Royal Navy frigate, and Caleb O’Brien left the quarterdeck to make his morning inspection of the ship’s three holds.

He was starting down the forward companionway when he heard a cannon fire. O’Brien, who had served on the Continental Navy frigate Trumbull, 30 guns, first as a midshipman and then as its Second Lieutenant, knew the sound of a naval gun when he heard one.

Forcing himself to remain calm, the 30-year-old O’Brien climbed up the companionway just in time to see smoke billow out from a gun on the port bow of the Royal Navy frigate. A second later, he heard the report and saw the splash of the ball about 300 yards astern of Sirius.

Running from the frigate was not an option. The two shots were signals for him to slow down so the frigate could come alongside. Other than small arms, Sirius, like all the other Fonseca-Laredo ships, was not armed. Company policy was when approached by a warship from any navy, stop, be courteous, but be adamant that the ship is not carrying contraband of any sort and is flying under the flag of a neutral nation.

O’Brien already knew what words he would write in his official log and report. He’d been stopped in 1805 and had eight men taken by the Royal Navy. As a first-generation Irishman, he had little love for the country that occupied his native land.

“Bo’sun, slacken all sails and slow us down to about three knots to make it easy for the Royal Navy to catch Sirius. When you are done, prepare a warm welcome for the Royal Navy. Quartermaster, hold steady on our course of nor’ by east.”

The warm welcome was two rows of seamen lining the gap in the bulwark on the port side of the main deck where the Royal Navy officers would board. His bo’sun would offer a sling chair if the officer was unwilling to climb the ladder made from blocks of wood and cast-iron grab bars screwed into the ship’s hull with screws.

Once he was confident that his orders were being carried out, O’Brien returned to his cabin and took the ship’s papers – manifest, certificate of ownership, insurance certificate and a list of each crew member containing their full name, place and date of birth. None of his crew were born in the United Kingdom of England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales as the country liked to be known. Of the 140 officers and men, about a third were born in European countries and the rest in the United States.

“Sirius, standby to be boarded and inspected.”

O’Brien thought it interesting that the speaker on the Royal Navy frigate did not use the name of his ship. “Aye, have your boat come alongside our port ladder. Will the officer need assistance?”

He didn’t need to hear what the officer with the speaking trumpet said to one of his officers. O’Brien could tell by his body language.

The Royal Navy frigate’s boat had an officer in a blue uniform coat with two gold epaulettes telling O’Brien that he was the captain. Another officer was sitting just forward of the captain, along with four Royal Marines with their muskets and fixed bayonets. Eight sailors rowed the boat the 200 feet that separated the two ships.

Built in 1796, Sirius was the second of six large merchant ships designed specifically for the North Atlantic and Mediterranean trade and could cruise with decent wind at six to seven knots with a full load. Like its sisters Orion, Polaris, Canopus, Capella, and Antares, Sirius displaced 1,500 tons, had copper plating to ward off seaworms, and at 171 feet long and 50 wide, it dwarfed the Richmond-class H.M.S. Boston that was only 127’ 5” long, forecastle to stern, 34’ 4” at the beam.

The frigate, commissioned in 1762, displaced only 676 tons and carried twenty-six 12-pounders as its main armament. It had two 6-pounders mounted on the forecastle and four more on the quarterdeck. On a good day, with a clean bottom, it could make seven knots, maybe eight.

Once tied up, the captain was the first to climb on board. He stopped on the main deck, surprised by what he saw. First was a line of 12 sailors, six on each side. O’Brien was at the end next to his bo’sun who blew the whistle in what is known as “still.” That Sirius sailors knew meant pay attention.

Sirius’ bo’sun announced in a loud, clear voice, “Royal Navy frigate Captain, arriving.”

By the look on the cluster of Royal Navy men by the entrance to the main deck, they were not expecting this welcome. O’Brien strode forward wearing his light blue coat with pewter buttons. “Good morning, sir, I am Caleb O’Brien, captain of the Fonseca-Laredo ship Sirius and headed toward Liverpool.”

He extended his hand as he stepped forward. The Royal Navy captain kept hands clasped behind his back “Reginald Preethy, captain of H.M.S. Boston.” He scanned the rigging before returning his attention to O’Brien. “Do you know why we stopped your ship?”

“Frankly no. We are headed for Liverpool and are carrying no contraband. And we are registered in the United States which is a neutral nation.”

“What are you bringing to England?”

O’Brien knew his ship’s cargo. “15 tons of indigo; 100 of cotton; 50 tons of logs; 40 tons of salted fish; 60 of salted beef; and 60 of salted pork.”

Preethy pursed his lips. “His Majesty King George the Third believes that every ship from your country has Englishmen on it. And, as such, they are required to do their duty to King and country in her time of need. As such, the Royal Navy has been ordered to stop all ships and determine if there are any English citizens are on board. If so, then we are authorized to enlist them in His Majesty’s Navy.”

O’Brien tried to sound conciliatory. “Captain Preethy, I can assure you that there are no Englishmen on Sirius. We are all citizens of the United States.”

“Hogwash. You’re Irish. What year were you born?”

“1777 in Salem, Massachusetts.”

“See, you are English by birth.”

“No, Captain Preethy, I am not. We declared independence on July 4th, 1776, a year before I was born, and it took eight years and four months to kick you British out. I am no more Irish, or worse, English than my second officer who is Dutch and my bo’sun who is Spanish.” My parents left Ireland because they didn’t like an English parliament making laws for Irishmen who had no say in the matter. They were some of the first members of the Sons of Liberty, and my father was wounded twice in his eight-plus years in the Continental Army.

“So, you were a rebel?”

“Aye, Captain Preethy. I was a wee lad during our war for freedom, but had I been old enough, I would have joined the Continental Navy. If that makes me a rebel, so be it.”

“Then, if I wish, I could take you into the Royal Navy. You could start at the bottom, and maybe, after twenty years, you might qualify as a bo’sun.”

“I’ve already done that, Captain.”

“Well, Captain O’Brien. Time’s a wasting. I want ten men, do you pick them, or do I ask for volunteers, or do I just take them.”

“Neither sir. If you take them against their will, it is kidnapping, which is, by the by, against the law in England as well as the United States.”

“The Royal Navy calls it impressment, and it is blessed by King George and Parliament which makes it quite legal, I’m afraid.”

“With each man you take, Captain Preethy, England inches closer to war with the United States.”

“We fought you once, and we can do it again. This time we shall prevail.”

O’Brien stepped between his crew, mustered along the bulwarks forward of the main mast, and Captain Preethy, “I doubt that. This time you’ll face a united population bound together to maintain our independence and freedom. I submit, the end result will be the same, only England will lose even more sons.”

“I doubt that.” Preethy faced the crew. “You, you, you….” By the time he finished the “you’s,” he had pointed to 10 members of Sirius’ crew. “Step forward so I can have a look at you.”

The men refused at first until one of the Royal Marines started prodding them with the tip of a bayonet. After having them all open their mouths and lift their shirts, he said, “You’ll do. Off you go into my boat.”

By now, a second long boat from H.M.S. Boston was tied alongside Sirius. As the 10 men were herded to the hatch in the bulwark, O’Brien said loudly, “Fonseca-Laredo will ensure your full wages from this voyage will be paid to your families and if needed, provide employment. Be assured, your families will be cared for in your absence.”

O’Brien had to say it because he wanted to give the men comfort that their loved ones will not starve or be cast out of their homes. “Captain Preethy, will you please do me the favor and get off my ship. Be advised, my government will be notified of your actions.”

Preethy started down the ladder, and when just his head and shoulders were visible to those on deck, he said, “Your government can piss off. Next time I stop an American ship, I might take ten or fifteen.”

Sadly, later in the day as O’Brien wrote his report, he believed that none of these men will ever see their homes again. He wondered how many American seamen were impressed into the Royal Navy and vowed that when he returned home, he would volunteer to serve in the U.S. Navy, if only to have a chance at teaching arrogant Royal Navy officers like Reginald Preethy a lesson.

---

Vicinity of 48⁰N, 6⁰E, third week of February 1811

For most of the voyage from New York, Darren thought the weather was decent. It was cold, windy, at times, but not stormy. He was on City of New York, one of AS&PLs newest ships, on its maiden voyage. Three others, City of London, City of Boston, and City of Charleston, were soon to follow. 

Each of these ships had improvements that came about from passenger input and lessons learned from the line’s decade-plus of operation. The City-class, as they were referred to in AS&PL and their literature, were much larger than their predecessors.

Each had 32 cabins, 16 on each of two decks, four owner’s suites in the stern of the ship, and on the lowest deck, there were two dozen small compartments made from partitions in which four hammocks could be slung. They provided a modicum of privacy but did not have a door.

Meal service as well as the quality of the food kept improving and now included fresh fruits and vegetables that could be served almost every day. Along with a selection of wines, smoked meats, cheeses, freshly baked biscuits, and breads were part of the fare offered.

Passengers were fed in two shifts: those in the cabins and then those on the “berthing” deck. For those in the owner’s cabins, room service was available.

City of New York was easily plowing through the long six-foot swells. Its up-and-down motion became almost rhythmic as on the up take, the bowsprit would appear to point at the sky and then plunge down, sending cold, 45⁰ Fahrenheit (~7⁰ Celsius) spray down the main or promenade deck.

For most of the day, City of New York was in and out of rain showers. Besides soaking those who were needed on deck to handle lines, the light rain made it hard to see any ship more than a half a mile away.

This was typical for this time of year. They were well east of where what Franklin called the Gulph Stream split. Part of the current flowed north and passed between Iceland and Scotland while the other continued east into the Bay of Biscay. Even though they were not in either current, when the warm air over the Gulph Stream mixed with the colder air coming off Greenland, it created clouds, fog, and rain.

Normally, when an AS&PL ship made its maiden voyage, either Darren or Jaco was the captain with the future captain acting as the First Lieutenant. On this voyage, it was Ezekiel Winters, Melody Winters Smythe’s youngest brother.

Ezekiel had left Charleston with the British when they evacuated Charleston in 1782 and went to Barbados. From there, he joined the British East India Company as a midshipman. After making lieutenant, Winters learned he would, as someone born in the Thirteen Colonies, never captain one of their ships. He left and made his way back to the United States, where he joined AS&PL.

Like most of the other AS&PL officers, he held a reserve commission in the U.S. Navy. Born in 1764, Winters had been at sea for most of his life.

Darren was also on board because he had business in London. One was a meeting with Henry York, his attorney at Scoons, who sent him a letter inviting him to discuss some investments. York also wanted to introduce him to Arthur Haver-Brown, who will take over his practice when York retires.

While in London, he planned to ride from London down to Portsmouth to spend a day with his father while City of New York spent its five days in port.

Standing in an enclosed platform at the aft end of the three-masted schooner AS&PL, called the “bridge,” Darren called a godsend. It protected the quartermaster and officer of the watch from the cold wind and spray. Arrayed on a board at the front of the enclosure were the compass, inclinometer, and thermometer.

Darren had returned to the captain’s cabin which was just forward of the passenger cabins and aft of the crew berthing compartments in the forecastle. He’d gone on deck to get a sense of the weather which had turned very cold with the outside temperature now down to 36⁰Fahrenheit (~2⁰ Celsius) both he and Ezekiel were afraid the cold rain might turn into freezing rain.

He was making notes on the trip for his report and evaluation when there was a firm knock on the door. “Yes?”

The door opened, revealing a young midshipman. “Sir, Captain Winters respects, sir. He would like you to come to the quarterdeck as soon as possible.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Yes, sir, if you call a Royal Navy frigate captain being obnoxious, there is.”

Darren grabbed his heavy woolen coat and followed the midshipman out the cabin door. On deck, Darren could see a Royal Navy frigate a quarter a mile ahead of City of New York beginning to tack to port to cross the schooner’s bow. Through a spyglass, he could see that the frigate’s 18-pounder guns were run out.

Ezekiel Winters had ordered the crew to wear the more maneuverable City of New York to port. Darren arrived on the quarterdeck in time to see City of New York’s bow begin to turn so it would pass a safe distance behind the Royal Navy frigate, thus avoiding a collision.

“Where did he come from?”

“Sir, we saw the top of its masts and caught a couple of glimpses but continued on our course to enter the English Channel. The Royal Navy rarely bothers us. As a prize, we’re not worth much!”

“Apparently, this ….”

The number 1 cannon on the frigate’s port side bellowed. The ball screamed past the aft end of City of New York and splashed a half a mile away. The message to both Darren and Ezekiel was clear.

“Slacken all sails.” The booms creaked as they were let out. Ezekiel wisely had the crew keep them taught enough to maintain steerageway. City of New York slowed to two or three knots and waited while Minerva finished tacking around to come alongside. Two boats were lowered into the water by the frigate’s crew and began rowing the 100 yards that separated the two ships.

“Ezekiel, let us find out what the Royal Navy wants.”

The Royal Navy captain was the third man to arrive on City of New York deck. He was preceded by two men with cutlasses hanging from their belts, into which each had stuffed two pistols.

“Are you the captain?”

Ezekiel Winters replied evenly, “Yes, I am Captain Ezekiel Winters of the United States schooner City of New York. Besides fifty-two passengers, our cargo is only U.S. and Royal Mail and baggage along with a few barrels of dried apples. We have no contraband.”

Without introducing himself, the Royal Navy captain turned to a lieutenant who was the fourth man to board City of New York. Darren noted that in addition to Minerva’s captain, one of his lieutenants and eight of his sailors were now on board the schooner.

“Search the ship!” The Royal Navy captain strode up to Ezekiel Winters. “How many men are in your crew?”

“Besides myself, there are three officers, thirty sailors, a chef, and two stewards. May I ask your name, sir?”

“Captain Everett Martingdale the Second. Captain Martingdale to you Winters.”

Darren winced. He hadn’t heard the name Martingdale in years. He served under Captain Martingdale on board H.M.S. Puritan. Martingdale refused Darren’s suggestions on how to take the French frigate Oiseau. Martingdale’s combination of stupidity and arrogance got his ship damaged and many of his crew, along with himself, killed. He may be a relative or even a son.

The lieutenant came up on deck. “Nothing but chests of clothes and provisions in the hold along with the mail.”

Martingdale nodded. “Winters, line up your crew on the leeward bulwark.”

Ezekiel Winters stood his ground, “Why may I ask?”

Martingdale drew his cutlass and shoved the point under Winters’ jaw. “Because I said so. My ship is short-handed, and I am taking fifteen men. I will be polite, and if no one volunteers, I will pick them.”

Darren had seen enough. “You will do nothing of the sort. This is a ship registered in the United States and flying its flag, and you have no right to take any man, woman, or child off this ship.”

Martingdale turned toward Darren, waving his cutlass. “And who may you be?”

“To start with, my name is Darren Smythe, and I am one of the owners of American International Passenger and Shipping Lines. I am also a retired Royal Navy captain and know the rules and policies under which you operate. What you are doing is illegal, and you and I both know it.”

“So, you are English?”

“I was born in England, but now I am an American citizen.”

“But you were born in England?”

“Aye, that I was.”

Martingdale spun around and ordered, “Take this man by force if necessary and clasp him in irons. He is a traitor to his king, his service, and his country.  I will deal with him later.”

The Royal Navy officer went down the line of sailors and took a dozen who were prodded by pistol barrels and cutlasses to the waiting long boats. Once they were away from City of New York. Ezekiel looked at the relative positions of the two ships. The schooner had drifted slightly aft, so he ordered the sailors to pull in the booms, and as soon as the ship started to accelerate, he picked a course that would make it difficult for Minerva to bring its guns to bear.

Once clear, he had all the sails the ship could carry and Ezekiel had the quartermaster set course for the entrance to the Thames River. All the male passengers volunteer to handle lines and sheets. Guided by the bosun, they did well, and in less than two days, City of New York would dock.

* * *

On board Minerva, Darren was shoved down the companion way to the orlop deck, where manacles were placed around his ankles and handcuffs around his wrists. The ship’s bilge smelled like rotten seawater that hadn’t been pumped out. It probably hadn’t been cleaned either.

In the dim light, he could see the barrels of food and beer, some of which were cracked. Rats were scurrying around, suddenly interested in the new resident of the orlop deck.

He leaned against the ship’s rib and tried to make himself comfortable. The rough wood made it difficult. Darren closed his eyes and wondered what Ezekiel Winters was doing with City of New York. Smiling, whether he lives or dies, Martingdale does not know or understand the firestorm he has unleashed. He grinned when he thought about what Jaco would do once he found out the Royal Navy kidnapped him.

Darren could tell by the creaks and motions of the frigate that Minerva was again underway. He didn’t have to wait long for Martingdale to make his appearance.

Two Royal Marines came below and undid the shackle that kept his manacles chained to the deck and led him up the forward companionway to the main deck and then aft to the captain’s cabin. When he was ushered into the captain’s cabin, only Martingdale was there.

“What’s your story, Smythe?”

“After the American Revolution, I was put on half-pay, turned down the King’s shilling, and retired. Along the way, I emigrated to the United States, married, and became one of its citizens. Today, I am the managing director and one of the owners of the shipping line that owns City of New York.”

“Where were you born?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. If you were born in England, you are English. Once an Englishman, always an Englishman. The fact that you left is more evidence that you are a deserter and a traitor.”

“I was born in Gosport. And I am neither a deserter nor a traitor.”

“Then why didn’t you accept recall?”

Darren was sure Martingdale didn’t understand either process or care. “I wasn’t eligible. By law, England is allowed only to recall English citizens, of which I am no longer one. I notified the Royal Navy that I had renounced my English citizenship and even had to defend myself in court. The Royal Navy, by the way, lost and was fined.”

“So, you changed allegiance to avoid serving your king and country. That makes you a coward as well.”

Darren forced himself to remain on an even keel. “No. That is incorrect. I did all this long before England was at war.”

Martingale slid a sheet of paper across the table. “Read this.”

Darren saw the seal of the First Naval Lord, which said that Royal Navy captains whose ships are short-handed may stop any ship on the high seas and remove, by force if necessary, anyone they believe is an English citizen. They are to enlist them in the Royal Navy or offer them a chance to serve in the British Army. The policy, the paper noted, was reinforced by Parliament in 1703, 1705, 1740, and 1779.

“This is preposterous!”

“Maybe so, Smythe, but what I did is well within my authority as captain of Minerva.”

Martingdale pulled the sheet back and put it on his desk. “So, did you ever serve with my father?”

“I did. I was his first lieutenant on Puritan.”

“Were you there when he was killed?”

“Yes.” The less said, the better.

“Where were you when he was mortally wounded?”

“On the quarterdeck.” Everything in his being was holding Darren back from telling Martingdale that had his father accepted Darren’s advice and forced a maneuvering fight, they would have easily captured Oiseau, and his father wouldn’t have been killed. Thanks to his father’s arrogance and despite the crew’s efforts, a boarding fight couldn’t be avoided. The French frigate was old and badly damaged in the fight. It sank so there was no prize money.

“Then you saw my father die?”

“I did. He was struck by three balls from a swivel gun. He was dead by the time he arrived in the surgeon’s cockpit.”

“And then what happened?”

Darren gave a short summary, saying that he took command, ordered Puritan’s crew to pull in its sails so it could accelerate and cross Oiseau’s bow. The French captain anticipated the move and managed to ram Puritan, but the Royal Navy crew prevailed. Two days later, Oiseau sank.

“That is what the action report says. Did you write it?”

“I did.”

“Well, Mr. Smythe, I still think you are a traitor. I am going to bring you to Portsmouth and let them decide what to do with you. In the meantime, I will write up my thoughts. You will be kept manacled and cuffed but will be given a lieutenant’s compartment. You are not to speak with any member of my crew unless one of my officers is present. You are forbidden to speak with the men I took from your ship. Any violation, and I will throw every Article of War at you and watch you dance at the end of a yardarm.”

With that, Martingdale yelled, “Guard,” and instructed him to take Mr. Smythe to the empty gunner’s compartment. A guard was to be posted outside it every hour of the day.

Coming soon