HMS Diamond (20 page)

      
A bit later Smith wandered over to where Pine was industriously handing out shillings and logging men into the service, and looked at the muster book. He could hardly believe his eyes. The men had come from all over southeastern England; and the list of vessels on which they had previously served was like a directory of great fighting ships. They came from the
Marlborough
and the
Princessa,
the
Bedford
and the
Resolution.
There were even a few who had served with Billy Cornwallis on the
Canada
and Ed Pellew on the
Indefatigable
. Even better were their skill levels. Smith ran his eyes down the Muster Book: Able Seaman, Able Seaman, Gunner’s Mate, Captain of the Foretop, Able Seaman, Captain of the Maintop. Finally he could contain himself no longer.

      
"Mr. Pine!" he said sternly.

      
"Yes, sir."

      
"It’s not nice to fool your captain about your recruiting skills."

***

      
The next month was a blur of activity, with one task falling into another so that it was almost impossible for most people to recollect what day it was. Strangely, Smith was not aboard the whole time. Several days a week he mysteriously disappeared for several hours, either in the early morning or late afternoon. When Walker or Whitney would ask him about it, he’d just say he was working on a "special project" and say no more. Finally, as work on the
Diamond
was nearing completion, he herded the two into a dockside carriage saying only that he had "something to show them."

      
The
Diamond
was being fitted out at the wet dock at Gordon’s Dockyard, which was on the Thames River just south of the Limehouse Reach. Following the twisting river they headed south on Grove Street past the Victualling Offices and, on the other side of that, the massive pond where masts and spars were floating in salted water, curing and awaiting claimants to take them to their new shipboard homes. Eventually Grove Street emptied on to the Deptford Lower Road, which took them to Stowage Road, which took them to... well, it took them to no where, as far as Walker and Whitney could tell.

      
The three stepped out of the carriage. Smith swept his hand toward Deptford Creek and pronounced, "Isn’t she grand?"

      
Walker and Whitney looked, and looked again, but could see nothing particularly grand anywhere downrange of Smith’s outstretched arm. There was an old cutter tied up to a pier on a somewhat foul-smelling creek; and beyond that, on the opposite bank, was the South London Waterworks, with the Thames Street Timber Yard just beyond that.

      
"Isn’t what grand?" Walker ventured.

      
"The ship! Can’t you see the ship there?"

      
"You mean that beat-up old cutter?"

      
"That is not a beat-up old cutter, my friend. First of all it’s a gunboat, not a cutter; and second, it’s the future of His Majesty’s Navy!"

      
"It looks like the tail end of Queen Anne’s Navy, to me." Whitney sniffed.

      
"Ah, but wait until you see the surprise it holds." And, with that, Sidney led them aboard.

      
Walker’s confusion over the ship type was understandable. The vessel had a single mast and her rigging could have made it either a cutter or a sloop. Moreover, there was no hard and fast definition of what constituted a gunboat. Most commonly it referred to a small ship that carried a single gun in its bow; but it could have one mast, two masts, no masts and be completely oar powered, or any combination of masts and oars.

      
The gunboat had several significant advantages and one serious deficiency. The advantages were that it was extremely maneuverable, could sail in very shallow water, the gun that it carried was normally a large one; and, most of all, they were very easy and cheap to build. The primary disadvantage was that a ship as small as a frigate could reduce it to matchsticks with a single broadside—although a frigate that was surrounded by a swarm of gunboats in shallow water was in serious trouble indeed.

      
The ship before them was single-masted, 54-feet in length and with a 19-foot beam. She had a large gun-well amidships with a ladder that led into the well and below deck to the crews berthing area, captain’s cabin, powder room, and food storage areas. She had three guns, a 24-pounder in the bow and two 12-pound carronades poking out of the stern on either side of the tiller. But, none of that was unusual. Even after studying her, Walker could detect nothing special.

      
Smith led them to the bow and the 24-pounder.

      
"As you know, I am forever plaguing the Board of Admiralty with ideas. Well, one of them finally got approved and I was given permission to built and test it while the
Diamond
was being fitted out.

      
"Lady and gentleman, I give you the Smith Gun Mount." Sidney said while patting the barrel.

      
Especially confused was Susan Whitney, who knew more about naval guns than many gunners. "Sidney, you’ve got a 24-pounder on a wheeled truck, sitting on a raised platform. That’s the Smith Gun Mount?"

      
Undeterred, he went on. "You both know what happens in a sea battle. Both ships are armed with guns pointing out of the sides of the ship, and 90% of the fight is spent with the two captains jockeying their ships around so their guns will somehow bear on the enemy."

      
"Yes. So? That’s the way it’s always been."

      
"Observe," said Sidney.

      
Smith went to the front of the gun, placed one hand on the barrel, and walked the muzzle 90-degrees to the left, walked it 90-degrees to the right, then returned it to its original fore-and-aft position.

      
"The Smith Gun Mount," he said again.

      
Whitney was shocked. "Sidney, how’d you
do
that?"

      
"If I might invite you to look under the platform."

      
The three got on their knees, including Lady Whitney who could give a damn about the "Lady" part when it came to learning something new.

      
"You’re quite correct, Susan, the gun is on a wheeled truck, which is on a raised platform. But look at what the platform is on. Yes, there are wheels on each corner of the platform, but they are not what support the gun’s weight. They’re there only for stability. The center of the platform sits on a steel plate that rotates around a pivot pole and rests on a circular track of well-lubricated cannon balls. It is those balls that support the weight of the gun and allow the platform to rotate freely."

      
They all stood up and swatted the sawdust off their knees. "Do you see what this could mean? Smith continued. "Let’s say you had a ship in which the weather deck was all of one piece—a continuous surface from the fo’c’sle to the quarterdeck. Now, suppose you had a string of these guns mounted along the midline, and they were able to swing round in a 360-degree arc."

      
"Then that ship could fire on another ship no matter where it was." Susan finished for him. "Sidney, that’s fantastic!"

      
"Yes, actually it is," Smith agreed with his characteristic modesty. "You could be slamming balls into your enemy from any angle; while he’s still trying to figure out a way to bring his larboard or starboard guns to bear on you."

      
"And you wouldn’t need as many guns, would you?" Walker asked. I mean, if the same gun could fire to either side, then you’d only need half as many, right?"

      
"Exactly."

      
"There’s only one problem, Sidney," Susan interjected. "The Admiralty will never approve it. Not in a hundred years."

      
"Why not?" He asked.

      
"Because it makes sense."

***

      
The
Diamond
had just made the turn around Margate Sand and was headed southeast toward the main channel when Walker heard the bosun’s mates moving through the ship calling for the sick to report to the upper deck. Walker put down his book, sighed, put on his coat and paused for a moment to admire his new sickbay.

      
Admiral Jervis had recently taken over as Commander-in-Chief of the Mediterranean Fleet. One of the first things he did was to order all ships in his command to move their sick bays away from the stuffy, foul-smelling confines of the lower decks, to the "most airy part of the vessel" wherever that might be.

      
Prior to Jervis there had been no regulations concerning the placement of the sick bay. Space being at a premium just about everywhere on a ship, it was usually tucked into some out of the way area in the lower reaches of the ship and consisted of a row of hammocks, a table for the surgeon’s kit, a canvas screen and, in times of battle, a cobbled together operating table. It was a place of low ventilation, low sanitation, low light and high despair.

      
Jervis’ order was popular with the men and even more popular with the ship’s surgeons; and it did not take long for the change to spread throughout the fleet. Because the
Diamond
was newly built, she was one of the first ships to have an intentionally designed sick bay built into her. Located on the starboard side of the upper deck near the fo’c’sle, it had spacious hanging cots, ports that could be opened to let in air and light, specially designed examining tables and one other thing of which Walker was very proud.

      
By re-hooking a few chains and swinging out a few partitions, he had the ability to segregate men into quarantine areas anytime he felt a patient might have a transmittable disease. This was his own idea and he insisted that the Deptford workmen make the changes. To his surprise, instead of fighting him about it, the ship’s master shipwright not only complied, but said it was a good idea—a change he was going to make to the other ships he was working on. Walker would still have to do his surgery from the orlop deck during battle because it was below the water line and safer for the wounded men; but all that lay before him now was his domain, and he was proud of it.

      
Walker walked around the sick bay screen and saw that Susan had already set-up a table by the mainmast. A small line of seamen had formed. Standing over her was Lt. Sandsbury, the ship’s third lieutenant. He was there representing the captain to make sure that the men who presented themselves were actually sick or injured and not malingering. So far, on this ship, Walker had seen very little evidence of that.

      
Susan’s role at the noontime sick call was essentially to sort the men out. As each came forward she would write his name in the Sick and Hurt Log along with his complaint. If it was something minor, splinters, cuts, sprains and the like, she would take care of it herself. If it was more involved she would have the man come back for a later visit with Dr. Walker. Men who needed treatment for syphilis came back at a separate time also.

      
The treatment for syphilis consisted of using a special syringe to inject a small quantity of mercury into the urethral opening of the patient’s penis. This presented the seamen with a dilemma. Who did they want to do the injection? Did they want to expose themselves to a female, or have their organs manipulated by a male? They weren’t crazy about either option but most opted for Susan’s ministrations.

      
Walker loved watching Susan’s ability to generate common sense solutions to just about any problem. For example, Susan had a special way of dealing with the occasional problem of tumescence while she was administering the syphilis treatment. She carried a small wooden ruler on the table next to her. If a man’s penis should start to grow hard she would give it a quick whack with the ruler, thus rapidly returning it to its normal state, and continue with the treatment as if nothing had happened. It was actually a pretty good solution to a problem that was potentially embarrassing to both the crewman and to her.

      
Walker saw that Susan had things well in hand, so to speak, so he proceeded up the starboard ladder to the gangway. There he stopped to simply gaze at the sea.

      
There was something about the ocean that Walker found calming—almost hypnotic. Perhaps it was its deep blue color. Perhaps it was its ever-changing patterns and moods. He didn’t know the answer; but he did know that he never wanted to be far from it.

      
While standing on the gangway his thoughts drifted back to Susan, something that occurred with surprising regularity these days. He thought about her smile, her body, her... and then his mind flashed to an incident, and he had to smile. It was The Great Whitney Literacy Campaign. It began when the ship was being fitted out.

      
One morning, as the ship was nearing completion, Susan could be seen tracking down officers all over the ship. Eventually, she got around to Walker.