Chapter 26: A personal grudge

Once back in his ship, he therefore sat at his desk to update his latest letter to Mirabel, adding his plea to look after Teresa and assuring his intended that he was anxiously awaiting the day when they would see each other again. He explained his new tasks and expressed his hopes of returning to Gibraltar in the early autumn.

When this was done, he called for Bartleby and asked him to bring in Teresa. The girl smiled at him when she entered the cabin. She had become very familiar with him over the last two months and she noticed that something was amiss.

“Teresa, you know that I shall have to deliver you to your grandfather, don’t you?”

Teresa nodded hesitantly. “Yes.”

“We shall return to the Berber coast for a while and not sail for Gibraltar. A frigate is not the right place for you...”

“But I like it here and Tim takes good care of me!” Teresa protested.

“Yet, it is against the regulations, Teresa. Now, you heard me speak of my fiancée, Mirabel, didn’t you?”

“Yes?”

“I shall bring you on board the Tempest. She is sailing for Gibraltar carrying a real Viscountess with her. Her captain, Mr. Everton, will take you to Gibraltar and to Miss Goodwin, who will care for you until I can return. She is a very nice young lady, and you will have a lot of fun with her. Will you be a brave girl and sail with Captain Everton?”

Teresa looked at Bartleby who was looking at her with a grandfatherly smile.

“Do I have to, Tim?”

He nodded sadly. “The Captain is only doing this for your best, little one. Soon the weather may turn ugly, and we want to know that you’re safe.”

Teresa looked at Thomas again. “I shall go and I shall be good about it!”

“That’s my girl! Now, I have written a letter for you to take along. If you get lost, show this letter to a Navy officer. There’s also five guineas in it, for emergencies. Once you reach Gibraltar, you may spend the money on some new clothes. How does that sound for you?”

Teresa nodded. “Thank you. I’ll take good care of the letter and of the money, Sir.”

“All right. Bartleby, kindly pack her dunnage and have her ready by the start of the second dogwatch! I shall have to find Tempest now.”

In fact, Tempest was sailing slightly ahead and to windward of the flagship. Thomas asked for permission to change position which was granted and brought his ship to the wind. Out of consideration for Teresa, Thomas ordered the cutter readied to bring them and Teresa’s dunnage over to the smaller ship. Tempest was still in a very good condition as far as he could judge whilst approaching her, and he could still feel the attachment to his first ship.

The watch properly hailed them, and the coxwain hailed back “Unicorn” before they hooked to her port chains.

“Wait here,” Thomas instructed his young charge before he jumped for the Jacob’s ladder and climbed up to her main deck.

There was her captain, Commander Everton, waiting for the bosun’s mates to finish their salute.

“Captain Everton?” Thomas asked politely, and the man nodded. “Captain Thomas Grey, of Unicorn. May I perhaps have a minute of your time?”

Of course, Everton knew him.

“Of course, Sir. Perhaps in my cabin?”

“Thank you, Captain,” Thomas answered, but his gaze wandered over the deck and the men watching them. Most of them he still knew, but there were also a number of strange faces. James Piper was still the sailing master. Ernest Brown was now sporting a lieutenant’s uniform and looking important, whilst Paul Courtland was still a midshipman. Thomas gave them all polite nods whilst he followed Everton aft. Once inside, Everton offered refreshment, but Thomas declined.

“My business is rather pressing, and I should rather discuss it presently, Captain. I was informed that you will give transport to the Lady Caldwell?”

“Yes, Sir. I expect her before sunset.”

“Very well. I am afraid that I shall have to saddle you with another passenger, Captain. I have with me a girl we freed from the Berbers. Captain Dancer suggested that she should sail in Tempest. I would ask you to convey her to Gibraltar, and once there, give her into my fiancée’s care. The girl is nine years old and quite used to shipboard life by now. Never gave us any trouble either. I have taken it upon myself to locate her relatives and give the girl into their care. However, my new orders make it advisable to send her to The Rock before we sail. Would you be so kind, Captain?”

“Of course, Sir! I’ll have a cot rigged in the chart room for her, and she can stay in the cabin with Her Ladyship. She can share in the cabin food too.”

Thomas knew that Tempest was still sailing endless escort duties and that prize moneys had eluded her stubbornly. Everton was likely living by his pay which was a mere £280 per year. True, Teresa was no glutton, but Everton would have to host the Viscountess and count himself favoured for the dubious and costly privilege. The lady would not take kindly to hardtack and salted beef. Thomas felt sympathy for his successor and was happy to have made preparations.

“That is very kind of you, Captain. Allow me, however, to recompense you for the expenses. The girl has quite an appetite and she is my responsibility after all. There may be other expenditures as well, and I should hate to burden you with those. Please accept these ten guineas and my gratitude for your troubles.”

Everton hid his emotions well enough, but he certainly looked more enthusiastic about this new chore.

“I shall take good care of your ward, Sir. Where may I find your fiancée?”

“She is living with Mrs. Benning, the wife of Captain Benning of Northumberland and an old friend of mine. The house is on Cloister Ramp, perhaps a ten minute walk from The Convent. May Teresa came aboard?”

“She is waiting in your cutter, Sir?”

“Indeed. I took the liberty of bringing along her dunnage hoping for your kind acceptance.”

“Then, by all means, let us get the boatswain’s chair rigged, Sir!”

Five minutes later, Teresa was standing on Tempest‘s deck, wearing a fine dress, long blonde braids and a myriad of freckles in her cute face. There was not a man on deck whose heart did not melt instantly, including Commander Everton.

“She’s a cute one, Sir. She’ll have everybody wrapped around her fingers in a jiffy.”

“She managed to do the same in my ship,” Thomas chuckled. “She’s well behaved though and won’t cause trouble.”

“Well, she’ll be more pleasant than my other passenger.”

“Have you met her, Captain?”

“Once, yesterday. She took a look at the after cabin, put her nose in the air, and demanded to be taken back to the flagship until our departure.”

“What nonsense!” Thomas expostulated. “Tempest‘s cabin is roomy and well built. I had less room and comfort in the Dido frigate.”

“Oh, I love this ship, Sir. She’s the finest ship sloop one can imagine. Yet, the lady ... Well, she’ll have to live through the next week and I have learned to close my ears.”

“That is probably the best attitude. It’s a week to The Rock, and if she’s as dotty as everybody claims, she’ll forget you and Tempest within a day.”

Thomas bade his farewell to Teresa then, promising her to visit her at the first opportunity and extracting a promise from her to be well behaved. Then he saluted the quarter deck of his old ship and climbed down into the cutter, returning to Unicorn. Having supper without the lively and inquisitive girl was a sad affair, but he knew that he had done the right thing.

Finally, he had the time to look through his mail. He forced himself to read the letters from Mr. Conway first which reported on the estate and the planned land purchases. Conway, together with Mr. Chalk, had contrived to add 1,600 acres to the Grey estate, plus 400 acres of woodland from Mr. Thompson. Apparently, Mr. Thompson saw those woodlands as less profitable for his scientific farming approaches.

There was a letter from Mr. Egerton as well who offered his felicitation for the knighthood Thomas had won. Obviously, the dispatches between Sardinia and London had travelled very fast, as well as the mail from London to the Mediterranean Fleet. Mr. Egerton assured him of his efforts to persuade H.M. ministry that Captain Grey deserved a knightly title.

A letter from the Admiralty officially confirmed Thomas in his command of Unicorn and detailed his new pay as a captain of a fifth-rate ship.

Finally, he had time for Mirabel’s letter. The envelope contained no fewer than eleven sheets of paper written in Mirabel’s fine hand and covering a two-months period. The first three pages had been written before she had received his latest letter and dealt with the events in Gibraltar. She was still attending soirees at The Convent together with Angela Benning and Florence Soubeyran. Florence was being courted by a Colonel Fielding, an elderly, childless widower who owned an estate in Kent and who was on the verge of retiring from his regiment. Florence was considering his proposal with favour. Thomas had to smile. The girl was certainly smart enough to catch a good husband on The Rock where pretty girls were in short supply. He wished her good luck.

The tone of Mirabel’s letter then changed, as she had received Thomas’s answer. In short, she formally accepted Thomas’s proposal and considered herself his affianced bride. She also let him know how happy she was and that she was awaiting his return with impatience and deep longing. She implored him to not seek danger on purpose whilst expressing her understanding of his duties. Thomas kept smiling with delight until he finished the letter which ended with “Your loving bride, Mirabel”.

He hurried to finish his latest letter to Mirabel and included it with the mail bag that was sent over to the flagship. Then, before the light faded, his new orders arrived from the flagship. There was nothing in them beyond what Pellew had told him, and he sent signals to Dido and Thisbe to be ready by sunrise.

In a way, the next morning was the pinnacle of Thomas’s career up to this point. After saluting Sir Edward’s flag, Thomas laid a course for his three-frigate squadron. Commodore or no commodore, he was commanding a squadron of three post-ships on a cruise along a potentially hostile coast. He was not the only one to feel the distinction. Pretty much all of Unicorn‘s officers watched the first manoeuvres of the small squadron, excited to be in the lead for the first time. Unicorn‘s wardroom was not yet used to distinction, and they felt pride at their ship’s achievements. With three bad apples taken out, the wardroom had transformed considerably under Darby’s leadership and with Hearn supporting him. Unicorn was developing into a crack frigate.

The wind was favouring them for a change, blowing in a six-knots breeze from the West, and the small squadron plowed through the choppy sea on a southern course until they reached Minorca and Port Mahon. They spent two days there taking water and fresh foods, before they continued their journey in south-western direction. Their first landfall would be at Oran, under Ottoman rule since 1792, and the second-largest harbour under the rule of the Dey of Algiers. Here, Thomas had earned his first merits when rescuing Catherine Duncan, and he remembered the city as a rather dismal place. Oran had been largely destroyed in a strong earthquake before the Spanish relinquished it to the Ottomans, and it had still shown the signs of destruction back in 1807.

Appearing before them in the early morning light three days later, it still showed no improvement in Thomas’s eyes. They sailed past the city, just out of range of the shore batteries, taking stock of the larger vessels in the harbour. There were only two moderately sized xebecs that appeared to be ready for sea, with the rest of the shipping consisting of smaller fishing boats and three hulks. Oran did not appear to be a hotbed of piracy.

They continued along the coast in eastern direction, reaching Mostaganem just before sunset. The small coastal town had a proud history as a corsair port under the feared Hayreddin, but it, too, was just a sleepy, decrepit place with nothing larger than fishing vessels in its port.

The three frigates sailed on from there and formed a line athwart for the 120 mile leg to Algiers. No shipping was encountered during the night, and nothing more than fishing boats during the following day. Not wanting to reach Algiers in the evening, Thomas had his ships heave to for the night, and spent a boring evening writing his report.

Approaching Algiers on the next morning, they had to round the cape to the north of the city, obviously setting off alarms. When they approached the city and harbour, two men-o’war were already lifting anchor and spreading their sails. One of them was a two-decker of perhaps 56 or sixty guns, an old fourth-rate from the times of Lord Anson, with an honest-to-God lateen sail on the mizzen mast. It was gaudily painted and swarming with men. Thomas saw that her lower deck gun ports were barely three feet over the waterline, and that her pumps were going even on that calm day.

The other ship appeared to be a fifth-rate frigate, but with an odd collecting of sails. She was riding high on the water, leading Thomas to believe that she was neither fully armed nor shipping provisions.

The two ships were heading to cut the British frigates off from the shore. Thomas was keeping his ships out of range of any coastal guns and he had them change course one point further east, making it clear that they were sailing past Algiers without turning tail.

“Deck ho! They’re clearing for action!” the lookout from the mast head hailed.

“Mr. Darby, beat to quarters! Guns loaded, but not yet run out, if you please!” Thomas ordered. “Signal to Dido and Thisbe: ready for battle!”

The drums began to roll and the men poured from the hatchways. Within nine minutes, the peacefully sailing Unicorn transformed into a fighting ship, with the bulkheads lowered, the decks strewn with sand, the yards secured with chains, and the guns readied and loaded. Down below, the surgeon would clear the sickbay and set out his torture instruments whilst the cook and his mates threw the fire over the lee side. Thomas’s own cabin was now part of the quarterdeck station, with the two six-pounders uncovered and loaded.

Darby rejoined Thomas on the quarter deck, reporting the ship ready and assuming his position as second-in-command.

“Thank you Mr. Darby. If it comes to blows, we shall try our best to pass the two-decker on the lee side.”

Darby nodded. “Yes, Sir, I can see that she’ll have trouble opening the lower deck ports.”

“Yes, and running out those guns will not make things easier for them,” Thomas replied. “She must be fifty years or older. I doubt that those old timbers would stop eighteen-pounder balls. Let’s aim low and for the waterline, although I believe they’re only trying to scare us away.”

“Yes, Sir. We’re the Unicorns though. We don’t scare easily.”

“Quite right, Mr.Darby. Let’s call their bluff. Let’s take in the t’gallants and the courses. Have the boarding nets rigged too. There’s an awful lot of men on those ships.”

“Aye-aye, Sir!”

“Oh, and dip the flag. Let them not say we are impolite! Is that a broad pennant on the two-decker? Six-gun salute!”

“Aye-aye, Sir!” Darby grinned.

A minute later, the quarter deck six-pounders fired a six-round salute for the Algerian commodore, whilst their own flag was quickly hauled down to half mast and raised again in greeting. Thomas watched the Algerian ships through his glass and felt relief when the two-decker dipped his flag in greeting too. Shortly after, the Algerians shortened sail and kept five to six cable lengths distance whilst the British frigates crossed the bay. Once they were past Algiers, the Berber ships turned and headed back to the harbour.

“Mr. Darby, kindly release the men from stations and have the bulkheads raised again. The cook can start his fire again. I believe we can all stand something hot for breakfast.”

“Yes, Sir. Do you think they got the message?”

“I believe so. My father gave me the advice to be always polite, but to keep the matches burning. I shall be in my cabin writing a report of the encounter. Carry on, Mr. Darby!”

They continued their cruise along the Barbary coast, with the next point of interest being Annaba, another corsair stronghold. There were three or four larger xebecs in that port, but none of them appeared to be ready for sea.

The port of Bizerte at the mouth of a large bay was their next target. Here, the corsairs enjoyed the protection of massive shore fortifications, and there was a dozen vessels anchored in the port. Again, Thomas wrote a detailed report of their observations.

Another day later saw them off Tunis, one of the principal bases of the Barbary pirates. Over 160 years before, General of the Sea Robert Blake, with fifteen English men o’war had bombarded city and port, destroying shore batteries and shipping, in retaliation for the attacks of Tunisian pirates. In these days, the Bey of Tunis could be considered one of the more moderate rulers, having suffered another bombardment by the Venetians some 10 years before. There was a British consul in Tunis, and Thomas’s orders were to see the man and get the latest intelligence.

Therefore, the squadron anchored out of range of the city after saluting the Bey’s flag. Indeed, Mr. George Mahoney, of the British Diplomatic Service, arrived in a boat not two hours later, a huge man with a flaming red beard and a booming voice.

He obviously knew his way about a man o’ war too, for he smartly saluted the quarter deck when coming aboard. He surprised Thomas too when he addressed him by name.

“Good day, Captain Grey. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Mahoney. Have me met already?”

“Your name is quite well known, Captain. Especially here on the Barbary coast. But that is part of the information I have for you.”

“Then let me show you to my cabin, Mr. Mahoney. Mr. Darby, kindly send signal to Dido and Thisbe to invite Captains Muir and MacAuliffe.”

Whilst Thomas led his visitor aft, the signals rose on the mizzen halliards. Mahoney looked around with interest in Unicorn‘s cabin.

“That’s a fine cabin, Captain. I always envy the Navy men for being able to bring along their little homes.”

“It is a boon, to be sure,” Thomas replied. “Speaking of which, what can I offer you?”

“Do you have ale, Captain?” Mahoney asked eagerly. “They grow wine here, but there’s no ale to be had. Something made of pork?”

“Yes to both, Mr. Mahoney. I’ll have my steward prepare a repast. Bartleby!”

“Yes, Sir?” Bartleby asked, appearing out of nowhere.

“Have we some of the pork roast left?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Prepare some cold cuts and some Sardinian sausages. Captain Muir and Captain MacAuliffe will join us too.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Tap one of the kegs of ale to go along with the pork.”

“Aye, Sir! I better hurry.”

“That’s the worst of being posted here,” Mahoney said with emphasis. “The endless mint teas, no ale, no pork, no sausages! I swear, once I get back to Dublin, I’ll eat pork chops for the remainder of my days. But enough of foods. Captain, you’ll have to watch out.”

“How so, Mr. Mahoney?” Thomas inquired politely.

“His Highness, Haji Ali Ben Khreli, Dey of Algiers, really wants you captured.”