HMS Diamond (18 page)

Authors: Tom Grundner

BOOK: HMS Diamond

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But, by far the most striking characteristic of the
Diamond
was her color. Just above the hull’s coppering there ran a three-foot wide black strip along the wale from the bow to the stern. Higher up, just above the gun ports a narrower band of blue ran from the bowsprit to the aft cabin. And in between... she was painted a gorgeous golden yellow.

"She’s a greyhound," Smith immediately thought when he first saw her. "She’s a purebred—born to run—and she’s mine. My God!"

He turned to hand Lady Whitney out of the carriage, but to his surprise, she ignored his hand and got out herself.

"Captain, if you please, as of this moment I am no longer Lady Whitney. I am Susan Whitney and I am reporting aboard as a volunteer. In 1780, sir, I was rated able surgeon’s mate aboard HMS
Richmond
, served in several other ships before that, and I can fill in as a gunner’s mate in a pinch.

"Request permission to go aboard and join your ship’s company." She then knuckled a rather impressive salute and held it awaiting its return.

Returning the salute, he mumbled a surprised, "Granted."

Women on board Royal Navy ships were not uncommon. Often they were the wives of officers or warrant officers and filled in as supernumeraries, taking care of the sick, doing laundry, mending, cooking and generally making themselves useful. Smith knew full well that Susan was not officially an able-rated surgeon’s mate. He was the first lieutenant aboard the
Richmond
when she was there.

She had come on-board originally as the wife of the ship’s gunner. When he was killed in action, she stayed on-board to help tend the sick and wounded and to learn as much as she could about shipboard medicine. He knew she was also more than a simple surgeon’s mate. For many months she was, in fact, the ship’s surgeon when their regular surgeon proved to be a drunk. She would again resume the role of surgeon’s mate, although her name and her rating would never appear on the ship’s books or any other official record. Women were allowed to serve; they were not, however, allowed official recognition for
having
served, nor would they be paid. That was simply the way things were.

Walker turned to Smith. "Well, Sidney, I am not going to be as formal as Susan. I am not sure I even remember how to salute. But, as you know, I am a fully trained physician now and I hold a warrant from the Sick and Hurt Board that says I am a qualified naval surgeon. Captain Smith, I request permission to go aboard and volunteer for your ship’s company."

Sidney just smiled. He had no idea what to say to these two old, dear and loyal friends.

Smith hung back as his friends disappeared on board. He knew that Susan and Lucas would be informing the Officer of the Deck that the captain would be coming aboard soon, and that same officer would now be scrambling to pull together an honor guard to await his arrival.

There were seven people lined up to greet him when he arrived on board: two petrified ship’s boys, two seamen, a lieutenant and a man he took to be the ship’s master. Off to the side, a bosun was trilling on his pipe. There were no additional officers and only a couple of small groups of curious shipyard workers standing at a discrete distance. "Where were the rest of the officers?" he wondered. "And the men?" Usually when a new captain reports aboard almost everyone will find some pressing business on deck so they can see their new skipper. Smith was wondering where they were? And where were the ship’s marines?

At the conclusion of the bosun’s eerie call, the lieutenant stepped forward and saluted.

"Welcome aboard, sir. I am Lieutenant Pine, your First Lieutenant." Sidney returned his salute.

"And may I introduce the ship’s master, Mr. John Wilkie." Sidney nodded briefly to Wilkie and turned back to Pine.

"Thank you, lieutenant. It’s good to be here," he said while automatically looking around the quarterdeck and up at masts that were not there. Pine self-consciously interjected.

"I know she doesn’t look like much right now, sir, but she’s a sight better than she was a while ago. She got her bottom coppered just last week; we’re expecting the masts to be stepped any day now; and the guns will be arriving next week. She was officially commissioned two weeks ago, as soon as her hull was completed. It’s all in the Log, sir.

"Yes. Yes, I am sure it is." Smith replied. "I’ll want to go over that with you in the near future. Meanwhile, if you would be so good, please sway my baggage aboard, and that of Dr. Walker and his surgeon’s mate, then assemble the ship’s company."

"Yes, sir. I’ll have a ship’s boy show you to your cabin."

A few minutes after his sea trunk and several small crates had been delivered, the lieutenant appeared again. "The company is assembled, sir." They left his cabin, climbed a short ladder and emerged onto the quarterdeck for one of the most important ceremonies in the navy—the "reading-in."

Technically, Smith had no authority whatsoever aboard this ship until the ship’s company was assembled and he could read aloud a copy of his orders. Before that reading-in, any consideration shown to him was done out of courtesy. After that reading, he had life and death control over every man on the ship. He could award promotions and floggings, commendations and death sentences at will and with no one to gainsay him. In some ways he had more power than the King, as even the King didn’t have the power to flog someone.

Smith saw only a few men along the two catwalks that ran from the quarterdeck to the fo’c’sle. He stepped to the rail at the forward edge of the quarterdeck, looked down into the open gun deck and saw only a few men there. He immediately spun around on Lieutenant Pine.

"Lieutenant, I believe I asked you to assemble the ship’s company and by that I meant the
entire
ship’s company. Was there something unclear about that order?"

The blood instantly drained from Pine’s face as he stammered: "Sir? Why, no sir. This
is
the entire ship’s company, sir; minus two men who are ashore in hospital with injuries."

It was Smith’s turned to look shocked. He turned back to the gun deck and realized that out of an authorized ship’s company of 300, he had maybe 40 seamen. He couldn’t get a sloop underway with that size crew, let alone a 38-gun frigate!

Regaining his composure, he pulled out a large document, unfolded it, cleared his throat, and started reading.

"By the Commission for Executing the Office of Lord High Admiral of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland..." Smith hurried through the opening ruffles and flourishes, and soon got to the meat of the document.

"We hereby appoint you captain of His Majesty’s ship
Diamond
frigate, willing and requiring you forthwith to go on board and take upon you the charge and command of her accordingly: strictly charging and commanding all the Officers and Company of said ship to behave themselves jointly and severally in their respective employment..." Smith paused briefly to look up.

Lieutenant Pine was standing near the quarterdeck rail. There would be apprehension and strain on his face for the next few days until he learned more about this new captain and could judge his character, competence and moods. Below, standing with what passed for the medical division, was Walker and Susan, both beaming like proud parents.

"...and you likewise to observe the General Printed Instructions..."

Smith went on until he came to what, for him, was the crux of his new responsibility. "Hereof nor you nor any of you may fail as you will answer to the contrary at your peril; and for so doing this shall be your warrant..."

And
that
was the bottom line.

What Smith’s orders said, in effect, was this. You are to command a King’s ship. In so doing we will give you almost God-like powers over that vessel and all who sail on it. However, we will also likely short you on equipment, probably short you on supplies, and certainly short you on manpower. We will place you in impossible situations with orders that make sure that if you fail the blame falls on you and not your superiors. If you succeed, your superiors will get the lion’s share of the credit and, if you are lucky, some might... just might... trickle down to you. Take it or leave it. And Smith knew there were literally hundreds of superbly qualified men who would take it in an instant.

"By command of their Lordships. Signed, Evan Nepean. Secretary to the Board." Smith finished up, folded the paper and tucked it inside his dress blue coat.

He knew what was supposed to happen next. He was supposed to give a speech and for once he had no inclination to do so. He looked at the motley assemblage of pensioners and near-children that was his current ship’s company; and even Smith, a born optimist, had the wind taken out of his sails. Still, he knew that everyone expected him to say something and that whatever he said would be quoted and dissected for the next month as the ship’s company tried to get an initial measure of the man who would be their Lord and master.

"Men of the
Diamond
." Smith began, unsure of what to say next. "As you know, this ship has been commissioned and placed in His Majesty’s service. I have been designated as her captain. I know she doesn’t look like much right now, but she will shortly. Soon she will be underway and looking to confound England’s enemies. I know, because I intend to take her to the enemy’s shore and do just that."

"God," Smith thought. "I am starting to sound like a pompous idiot. Change topics, you fool."

"As your captain, I expect only one thing: that each of you will do his duty to the maximum extent you are able. If you but do that, you’ll find I am a fair man. I am not a captain who looks for reasons to discipline or flog, but I will do so if
you choose
to do the things that call for it. The choice is yours. If you but do your duty, I will be as fair and as just as fallible human nature will allow."

Smith groaned inwardly. "That’s worse," he thought.

"Now, we have a lot of work to do and not very much time in which to do it. And the first thing we need is to get some more men on board this ship!"

The crew broke into laughter, which startled Smith because he had not intended that sentence as a joke. "Good grief. It’s time to end this fiasco." He thought.

"That’s all for now. Division heads, dismiss your men."

At this the bosun stepped forward. "Men, three cheers and a tiger for Captain Smith!"

As the men gave the traditional cheer for a new captain, Smith thought he heard a tone to their voices. Did they sound like they were really cheering instead of going through the motions? Or was that simply wishful thinking on his part?

***

Lieutenant Horace Pine couldn’t tell which emotion was the dominant one: frustration or depression. For the past five days he had traveled from Deptford, to New Cross, to Lewisham, to Brockley, to Peckham and back to New Cross—stationing himself in one pub after another. Currently outside the door of the latest hope were the ship’s drummer boy and the bosun, standing near a tall pole with a now somewhat tattered white flag flying on it. The three had one mission and one mission only—recruit men for the ship!

Oh, things began well enough. The captain had some flyers printed up and Pine had dutifully posted them all over the area. He picked up one that was laying in front of him, wiped off some of the beer that had spilled on it and read it over one more time.