For the Honor of the Flag: A John Phillips Novel (War at Sea Book 2) (14 page)

The captain was on deck when the hands set to sanding it down with their ‘bibles’, then swabbing it dry. Wainwright, who kept no watch as first officer, stayed below until well after the sun was above the horizon.

The man newly assigned as his servant, a ruptured former topman, was aghast when he was told the captain would not be having breakfast this morning. In truth, he had not taken the time to shop for cabin stores, and his larder was empty. Phillips had planned to go ashore this morning, and purchase necessary cabin stores. He thought to buy something for breakfast from one of the vendors on the waterfront.

Seaman Hanlon had already explored his captain’s belongings and discovered the nested cooking utensils and crockery in one of the cases. Hanlon took one of the smaller pots down below and threatened the cook with mayhem if he did not fill the container with burgoo.

Now, this burgoo was basically stale oatmeal, liberally flavored with boiled beetles and a smattering of rat dung. Everyone on the ship was well acquainted with the substance. Hanlon thought he could improve on the article though. Up forward, Maude, the wardroom goat, was taking the sun in her little pen. The wardroom steward was a lazy sod who had not milked the goat yet, so Hanlon did the honors. He drew off a liberal amount of milk, enough for the burgoo with some left over for the coffee.

The coffee was his own concoction. He had gone into the galley while the mess cooks were just getting the galley fire going. Into a pan with a long handle, he put a big handful of dried peas and toasted them over the fire. When they looked scorched enough, he added some crumbled up ship’s biscuit and toasted that too. Of course, there were a few maggots also, but being small, they would hardly be noticed. When the biscuit crumbs were well browned, he took a bung starting hammer and pounded the contents of the pan to powder.

The resulting product was put in a pot and hung over the fire to boil. Now, having obtained the milk, he was ready to serve his captain. Before leaving the galley, he filched some molasses which he added to both the burgoo and his ‘coffee’.

The only table in the captain’s quarters were the boards laid across some boxes. He had previously laid sailcloth over the boards and placed the oatmeal and ersatz coffee upon that.

All being ready now, he went to the quarterdeck to call the captain for breakfast. Phillips was not amused at the announcement. He knew well his larder was empty and did not wish the ship’s officers to regard him as an improvident sort who would likely be begging meals from the wardroom. His stomach would just have to wait until the men had had their breakfast and he could feel justified in ordering a boat crew to pull him ashore.

Hanlon looked so distraught over his refusal to come though, Phillips relented and entered the cabin. He knew at once the foul smelling burgoo had not come from the wardroom, but the seamen’s mess. He was touched by the servant’s thoughtfulness. The ‘coffee’ too brought back memories. Many a time, back in his midshipman days, the gunroom had not the funds to buy real coffee, so they had made up an article such as this. Those memories brought a smile to his face as he ate his breakfast.

It was late in the morning watch when he was ready to go ashore, but first he wanted to see Mister Wainwright. Mister Harrison was on deck, so he asked him where the first officer was. With the reply, “Mister Wainwright is in his cabin”, Phillips grew livid. Some questions to the men elicited the information that the first officer had not been on deck for the entire night.

Phillips almost blew up. Every man of the ship’s crew had been up since before daylight, and here the first officer was still abed. Wainwright was exempted from standing watches since as first officer he was expected to be on deck much of the time. He came and went on his own accord, but all first officers that he had known spent an ungodly portion of the day and night on deck, supervising. That could easily be corrected, though.

He sent Harrison below with a summons for Wainwright. From his station on the quarterdeck he could hear the commotion from the wardroom as Wainwright lit into the hapless Harrison. When the first officer reported on deck, Phillips drew him over to the windward rail and began discussing his wishes. He told Wainwright that he wanted him to start standing watches with the other lieutenants. The premier was aghast. He informed Phillips that he had not stood a watch since he had gained enough service time to be first officer on his ships. If Phillips was adamant on the subject, he would have to go ashore and discuss this matter with Captain Hancock and the Governor.

Phillips nodded and assured Wainwright that he need not stand watches if he chose not to. Smiling over his victory over this young captain. The lieutenant went below. He was sure before this commission was over, it would be himself that would be running the ship.

There was some consternation among the witnesses to the exchange, but Hanlon assured one and all the captain was a deep one. He was not going to let the lieutenant get away with this.

The boat crew pulled Phillips to shore, where the first thing he did was find his way to a good breakfast. A combination of a Spanish posada and English inn was nearby, and he paid extra for them to stoke up the fire and prepare some fried pork and eggs this late in the morning. His belly satisfied, he went out to look for Mister Baker. They had not arranged a meeting place, but Phillips felt the place was small enough that he should find Baker without trouble.

Actually, there was a good bit of effort expended before he found Baker’s lodgings. Baker was not there but his landlady, a rather comely young widow, knew right where the lad was wont to linger. They met on a quay only a stone’s throw from where Phillips had come ashore.

Upon questioning, Baker announced he was feeling low and wished he was back in England. He felt he would never get a ship here and hated to go hat in hand to his uncle for assistance in getting home.

Phillips nodded gravely. “That is too bad, Mister Baker. I have a position as third officer on the Blanche to offer you, but if you want to go home I will not stand in your way.”

Baker almost danced as he assured Phillips that a third officer’s position on a frigate was the height of his ambitions.

Telling Baker to wait there on the quay for him, Phillips took a little donkey drawn carriage to the Convent. Captain Hancock was in and told him plans had been made. Blanche would be sailing as soon as provisions had been topped off and needed men taken aboard. Phillips, in turn, described his confrontation with Wainwright. He mentioned the other officers aboard Blanche were acceptable and he would like to put young Baker on the ship as third officer. Harrison could take over as first. After listening intently, Hancock said, “Certainly you cannot sail with this officer after such a confrontation. Send him ashore, I’ll see if I can get him passage on something to take him back home. If you will wait a bit, I’ll have the clerk draw up orders relieving Wainwright from duty on Blanche.

After making arrangement for the draft of men from HMS Triumph to come aboard, as well as topping off Blanche’s supply of provisions and expendable supplies, its captain went back to the quay where Baker waited.

There, Baker was sitting on his sea chest. Another large chest sat beside the first. Phillips had intended to signal for a ship’s boat, but Baker had already arranged a shore boat. It had a crew of two Gibraltar natives who between the pair carried both chests to the beamy boat and loaded them. By the time both men got into the boat with the heavy chests, there was not a lot of freeboard. Once away from the quay, the crewmen set the boat’s lugsail, and as it took the wind, the boat’s starboard gunnel was dipping very chose to the water. The crew knew what they were doing however and the boat shipped not more than a few gallons of sea.

Somebody on Blanche spotted the boat leaving the quay and recognized their captain. As they drew up alongside the starboard entry port, the officers and Marines were there along with the bosun’s mates and their pipes. The only person missing from the ceremony was Lieutenant Wainwright.

Mister Harrison was on deck and was profusely apologetic over the absence of the first officer. “I am afraid he is a bit overtaken by drink, sir. I am sure he will be recovered shortly.

“Never mind that, Mister Harrison. Would you and Mister Peabody come aft with me? I have some news for you.”

Bidding Baker to accompany them, all went onto the quarterdeck. With no crewmen close enough to overhear, Phillips introduced Baker to the others and announced, “Mister Wainwright will be leaving us today. He will be going ashore and Mister Baker here will be joining us. You, Mister Harrison, will now be first officer, effective immediately. Peabody is advanced to second, and Mister Baker here will be third. I have orders that send Mister Wainwright ashore. He will be leaving shortly. The question I have, is he sober enough to leave under his own power?”

Harrison answered, “I doubt it Captain. When I went to his cabin to announce you were coming aboard, he just laughed and told me to get out.”

“Well, you are the first officer now. I will leave the matter in your own hands. If you have to, you can always strap him to a board and lower him into a boat.”

“But what do we do with him on shore? We can’t just leave him on the quay.”

Baker answered. “Sir, I am already paid a week ahead on the rent for my room. We could leave him there,”

Harrison then interjected, "Sir, as I am now first officer, I must inform you of our severe lack of hands. Mister Wainwright has been allowing other captains to take our men as they wished. I expect we could win the anchor with the men we have, but surely we will be at a stand should we encounter an enemy.”

Phillips looked out over the harbor at HMS Triumph. Her topmasts had been sent down, and she seemed rather forlorn. A launch was up against her starboard beam, taking aboard men.

“Mister Harrison, I expect a draft of men from Triumph. We should begin receiving them shortly. Now, before they arrive, I must tell you of my wishes of how are hands are to be treated. I believe Mister Baker here is aware of my ideas, and now I will tell you.”

“Every captain has his own methods and I have nothing to say about those. On my ship, I require the men to be treated decently and with a modicum of respect. I would prefer the bosun would never let his cat out of the bag, if I may speak facetiously.”

“On the other hand, we are on board a King’s ship, with certain duties to perform. All of us, from the boy servants to myself are required to perform those duties. If a man willfully fails to perform, he will be punished. I prefer to do that initially by stoppage of grog, tobacco and extra duties about the ship on the off watch. If a man continues to shirk or causes trouble, then I will ask our bosun to make up a cat-o-nine tails and do the necessary.”

Looking out over the harbor, the ship’s boat from Triumph was seen pulling their way, loaded with men. Another, alongside the liner, was loading. Pointing toward the boat, Phillips said, “That could possibly be the first of the draft of men we are expecting. We will welcome them aboard in a decent manner. Mister Harrison, would you indulge me by having a table and a pair of chairs brought up to the quarterdeck, as well as the muster book. Have the clerk furnish some pens and ink and extra paper. We will spend the next hours getting the men on our books and assigned to their proper stations.”

As the officers scattered to their duties, Wainwright staggered onto the deck. He was clearly under the influence of a night’s drinking and could barely stand. Speaking slowly however, he could articulate his words and was plainly indignant.

Without a preparatory “Sir”, he addressed Phillips. “That damned Harrison came below and insisted I report on deck. I tell you I will not have this. I am first officer and he is subordinate to me. I insist he be put in his place.”

Phillips searched in the sailcloth bag in which he carried his important messages and withdrew the order from Captain Hancock removing Wainwright from the ship.

“Lieutenant, I sent Mister Harrison below earlier today to summon you. He informed me that you were unwilling to report and seemed to be overtaken with drink. It seems we do not agree on the way we need to operate this frigate, so I believe the way to solve this problem is for one of us to leave the ship. Captain Hancock has decided that you will be the one to leave, and you have been replaced as first officer. Mister Harrison is now premier and will take over your former duties.”

“If you will ask him, I feel sure he will send you and your effects ashore in the jolly boat. We have a new officer on board, Mister Baker, who is now third officer. While he was on the beach, he took rooms for himself and he tells me he still is paid up for a week ahead. He informs me that you are welcome to stay there for the next few days until you decide upon your future actions. ”

Looking around, Phillips saw Baker at the entry port, where the new men were coming aboard. Pointing him out he told Wainwright to see him and get directions to his rooms.

Sputtering, the indignant officer stamped across the deck, ignoring Baker, and approached a bosun’s mate, demanding a boat made ready to take him ashore. The confused petty officer complied, not quite understanding recent changes in the hierarchy of the ship. A working party quickly brought up the contents of Wainwright’s wardroom cabin, and soon he was being pulled to shore.