Chapter 8: A Convenient Seizure

January 1809

Thomas was resting on his bed in The George and Serpent Inn. The inn was located at a convenient distance from the Admiralty where he would report in the morning. Mister Egerton had indeed given him transport to London, but had not extended an invitation to stay at his house. One reason might have been the interest that Missus Egerton had shown in Thomas on that long coach ride. It was quite clear that Mister Egerton did not trust any man in the presence of his cherished young wife.

Thomas was not too unhappy about this, for Mister Egerton was a bit too pompous for Thomas’s taste and his unreasonable jealousy was unsettling. Thomas resolved to find excuses should Mister Egerton yet decide to invite him.

His room was on the third floor and small, but well appointed, clean and with a comfortable bed. The costs, two Crowns for a night, were at his upper limits, but tolerable for a brief stay. Supper, served in the common room, had been satisfactory, and now he was reclining against a soft pillow and reading in the light of an oil lamp. The books of poems in his hand was a gift from his mother, by one Mister Cunningham, and it was perfect for the purpose, namely making him sleepy in short time. Thus he was well rested when a maid knocked on his door to wake him.

“Seven o’clock, Sir!” she called, and he translated the landlubber time to 6 bells.

“Come in!” he called, and the maid, a skinny waif of perhaps 10 or 11 years slipped in to leave a burning candle on the wash stand. She also placed a filled water jar next to the wash basin for his use and left quietly. This being the depth of winter, it was still dark in the room, and he used the candle to light the oil lamp.

It was a tricky business to shave in the light of the lamp, but he had practice and completed the task without bloodshed.

Down in the common room, a hearty breakfast was waiting for him, and he enjoyed it with all the appetite of a young and active man.

“Wind from Southeast, bit of rain,” the innkeeper informed him, prompting him to don his oilskin over the uniform when he left the inn.

A look at his fob watch told him that he was right on time when he stepped through the arch and into the courtyard of the Admiralty building. He produced his papers and orders to the Marine sergeant who commanded the sentries and was given directions to an anteroom on the ground floor where another lieutenant was already waiting. Bowing politely, Thomas introduced himself.

“Thomas Grey, at your service!”

The man looked up. “James Partridge, commission from June ‘09. Yours?”

“December ‘08.”

“Good morning, Sir!”

Well, that was a new experience for Thomas who until then had never met a commissioned officer junior to him.

“Is anybody in there, Mister Partridge?” Thomas asked, pointing at the office door in front of them.

“No, Sir. They like to sleep longer here, it would seem.”

As if to prove him wrong, an elderly gentleman hurried into the anteroom, coming from the outside.

“Good morning, gentlemen. Is either of you Lieutenant Thomas Grey?”

Thomas stood and nodded. “Lieutenant Thomas Grey, at your service, Sir!”

“And you are?”

“Lieutenant James Partridge, Sir.”

“Please be patient for a brief time, Mister Partridge. Mister Grey is urgently wanted. Please follow me, Sir!”

After a brief shrug, Thomas followed the man outside, up a stairwell, and along a corridor.

“We were advised of your arrival by Mister Egerton, Sir,” the man explained. “Please, this door!”

Thomas stepped through the door and found himself in a rather large and opulently furnished room. Behind a huge desk sat a man in rear-admiral’s uniform, with bushy grey eyebrows and opulent side whiskers. On a chair in front of the desk sat Mister Egerton.

“Lieutenant Thomas Grey, Sir Wilfred!” his guide announced.

To Thomas’s astonishment, the admiral rose from his chair.

“Please, do come in, Mister Grey! I am Rear Admiral Sir Wilfred Harrow. You know Mister Egerton of course.”

“Yes, Sir W-Wilfred. Thank you, Sir!” Thomas answered as was proper when facing a vastly superior officer.

“His Excellency the Governor has been singing your praise in this report, Mister Grey. Unfortunately, His Royal Highness, the Duke of Clarence, is unavailable for presenting you with your medal. However, Lord Mulgrave has consented to do the honours. We shall escort you to his offices in a few minutes. You are also seeking employment?”

“Yes, Sir Wilfred.”

“Splendid! It so happens that my brother-in-law, Captain Sir Everett Hume, has an opening in his ship. Have you heard of him?”

Thomas was dimly aware of Sir Everett’s deeds on the Catalan coast, and he nodded.

“Yes, Sir Wilfred. I was serving under Lord Collingwood in the Andromeda frigate all last year. We heard about his exploits, Sir.”

“Then you will raise no objections if posted to his new ship? He is appointed to the Sultan, 74. She’s a rather new ship currently refitting at Deptford. Your commission dates from January ‘08? Well, that would place you as her Nº4. What say you, young Mister Grey?”

“I feel honoured, Sir Wilfred, and I accept with gratitude,” was all that a junior lieutenant could say when appointed to any ship. At least she was a new ship, launched less than two years previously as Thomas remembered, and her captain had the reputation of being energetic.

“Excellent! Mister Overland, please make out those orders for Lieutenant Grey! I trust that you brought your kit, Mister Grey?”

“Yes, Sir Wilfred. It’s at The George and Serpent.”

“Splendid! I shall send a note to Sir Everett that you will report, say tomorrow? Not too early?”

“No, Sir Wilfred. I only wish to write a letter to my father to advise him of my new posting. I could report today.”

“No, my dear young Mister Grey. Today, you belong to Lord Mulgrave and to Mister Egerton. You are the hero of the hour after all, and the newspapers will want to know more of you.”

Years of discipline prevented Thomas from rolling his eyes, yet a sigh escaped from his mouth. Sir Wilfred and Mister Egerton laughed at his plight.

“There is a price to pay for fame, my dear young Mister Grey,” Egerton chuckled. “We shall have a reception at my house too.”

Of course, with a rear admiral in presence, Thomas could not decline.

“You are very kind, Mister Egerton,” was all he could think of.

Henry Phipps, 1st Baron Mulgrave, was a friendly looking gentleman with long standing ties to the ministry. He had held a colonelcy in the Army, but went into politics and had served as Foreign Secretary under Pitt. Clearly, presenting a gold medal to a mere lieutenant had to be very low on his list of priorities, but he was polite enough.

In less than a quarter hour, he bestowed the medal and “A Sword Valued at 50 Guineas” on Thomas, conveying the warm thanks of King George III and the ministry. He was followed by Mister Egerton who made much mention of the fact that Parliament had in fact awarded medal and sword. All the while, three gentlemen wearing Tory colours were busy jotting down names and dates into little notebooks. These proved to be reporters from those newspapers friendly to the Ministry, and they asked Thomas a number of questions afterwards before they rushed off.

Thomas, Admiral Harrow and Mister Egerton then had refreshments at Mister Egerton’s club, before Thomas was led to Westminster Palace where he was introduced to several leading MPs, had to drink several glasses of port, and had to shake quite a number of hands whilst a fresh batch of newspaper reporters stood by to take notes.

Then, it was off to Mister Egerton’s house where a reception took place. Again, any number of solemn-looking, wigged gentlemen offered their felicitations, toasted his health and success, and generally depleted the offered refreshments. Thomas’s head was whirling badly when a Navy captain appeared in front of him. Thomas stood to attention.

“Lieutenant Thomas Grey, Sir, at your service!”

“Easy, Mister Grey. My brother-in-law told me that I’d find you here. I’m Sir Everett Hume. He also told me that you accepted the posting to my ship?”

“Yes, Sir Everett. I feel honoured to serve under your command.”

“Thank you, Mister Grey.” He looked around. “I imagine that you’ll be happy to escape to the safety and quiet of a wardroom after today?”

Thomas could not hide his grin. “Very much so, Sir.”

“Mister Egerton already let me know that you’re from Guildford. Your father was in the Navy too?”

“Yes, Sir Everett. Commander Theodore Grey, late of HM sloop Cormorant, of 20 guns.”

“You also served in her?”

“Yes, Sir Everett. Three years as captain’s servant before I mustered at the Navy Academy in Portsmouth.”

“I imagine you were less useless then than your fellow graduates. Captain Benning gave you a glowing recommendation. I shall be happy to count you amongst my officers.”

“Thank you, Sir Everett. I shall do my best to do justice to Captain Benning’s reports.”

“Well, Mister Grey, enjoy the evening! I’ll expect you tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Sir Everett.”

Later that evening, Mister Egerton presented the evening papers, where on the fourth page of the Gazette, but fairly high up, was a short paragraph telling London that Lieutenant Thomas Grey of Guildford, Surrey, had received a medal and an honour sword for a courageous rescue off the Barbary Coast. Mister Egerton had obtained several copies, and from one of them, his clerk cut the article for Thomas to keep. Another would be sent to his father, Mister Egerton promised.

Short accounts also appeared in several other newspapers. Even the Morning Chronicle, ever critical of the Ministry, devoted eleven lines of print on page 6 to Thomas’s feat.

Finally, at 9 o’clock p.m., a cab brought Thomas back to The George and Serpent where he had a pint of ale and instructed the innkeeper to have him woken at 4 bells.

In the next morning, after another hearty breakfast and a boat ride downriver, Thomas reported for duty in HMS Sultan. She was new and quite roomy for a 74-gun ship, in particular when compared with the ageing fifth rate Andromeda. The wardroom was more than twice the size of Andromeda’s, but it also housed more officers — six lieutenants, a captain and a lieutenant of the Marines, the sailing master, the surgeon, the chaplain and the purser.

All officers excepting the sailing master and the purser were freshly appointed, and two of the lieutenants had received their commissions only recently. As the Nº4, Thomas was in command of the mizzen mast, but also had the quarter deck and forecastle guns under him. He began to exercise what crews were available both in sail drill and in the handling of the carronades.

They were still woefully short of their complement of 550. The Marines, 110 of them, had arrived, and 315 men of the ship’s former crew had been transferred back from a receiving hulk, but they needed an additional 125 hands to work the ship. The 1st Lieutenant, Mister Edgar Dumfries, sent our recruiting parties daily, or rather nightly, for the best way to find men was to look in the brothels. Many a sailor or landsman went upstairs with a girl only to wake up as a member of HMS Sultan’s crew. The boatswain knew of a number of establishments whose owners were not averse to earning premiums for recruits. Over the next two weeks, this netted some 45 recruits, with the prisons contributing another 60 “volunteers”. A night raid on Battersea under Thomas’s command conducted with longboat and cutter and with 36 reliable men succeeded in collecting another 18 able bodied men.

With the wardroom complete and the crew close to complement, Captain Hume and his officers concentrated on training the raw men and on keeping them from escaping whilst completing the stores. Since Sultan was being recommissioned, all her stores should be fresh, but of course, the Victualling Yard tried to slip them older meat casks. Fortunately, the purser had over twenty years experience and would not fall for those ham-fisted attempts.

In the meantime, Thomas had also got to know the other wardroom members. Lieutenants John Waterton and Trent Powell were senior to Thomas, whilst Mr William Ruark and Mister David Shearer were recent promotions and junior to Thomas. Mister Dumfries as Nº1 and the sailing master, Mister Jonathan Tanner, had their separate cabins on the quarter deck, whilst the five other lieutenants, the Marine officers, the purser, and the surgeon shared the wardroom. Thomas, at nineteen years of age, was the youngest wardroom member by two years.

All the lieutenant’s cabins were large enough to house a desk and a small wash stand in addition to the cot. As Lieutenant Brown had said, the cupboards were getting a little bigger.

The wardroom officers also purchased their own stores through the purser, Mister Clements. Thomas and the other officers each contributed £18 to the pool, yielding almost £200 from which their wines, ales, smoked hams and sausages, jams, pickled eggs and other delicacies were bought and stocked. Whilst the wardroom had access to the ship’s stores, anything beyond the basic ship’s fare came out of their pockets.