Chapter 5: Blockade Duty

Summer 1808

Thomas was standing on the quarter deck of HMS Andromeda, 32, and watched The Rock growing smaller in the distance as the ship made her way through the calm waters under full sail before the moderate westerly breeze. Captain Benning had retired to his cabin once they were under way, and Thomas still had most of the Forenoon Watch ahead of him. It was his first watch in Andromeda under sail and as such exciting enough, but he could not help thinking about the sweet woman he had left behind.

After his three days’ pass of which he spent as much time as possible with her, he had only had one more opportunity to see her, and that had been in public. She had been brave and cheerful, and he had no doubt that she was serious when she wished him luck and happiness for his future, but it had still hurt to know that he might never see her again. Captain Benning had hinted that his wife would assist her. Yet, what would become of Catrina and her daughters once she returned to the British Isles?

Something disturbed his musing and he looked up. Sure enough, the main t’gallant sail was not trimmed well and flapped a little.

“Mr. Allison, a pull on the lee brace of the t’gallant!” he ordered, and the boatswain’s mate of the watch assembled five deckhands for the task.

From what Thomas could tell, the ship moved well enough but was no match for Wolverine. During the stay in Gibraltar, they had laid the ship over to remove as much of the seaweeds and barnacles as possible, but according to Mr. Brown she would need a stay in the dry dock sometime during the next year. This reminded him of the need to have the log cast which revealed that they moved along at a little over five knots. This close to the straits and considering the tides, it would be more like six knots over the sea floor. Thomas noted down the numbers on the blackboard and resumed his pacing on the quarter deck.

Their orders were to join the fleet blockading Toulon, the major French naval base in the Mediterranean. The French still had a number of ships of the line and frigates lying there, some of them having escaped the British at Trafalgar, others not ready to sail when Villeneuve broke from Toulon. Apparently they were also still building ships, even though they had problems finding officers and crews for the existing ones.

From what Thomas had heard and read, the French navy was not in fashion amongst the aspiring young men. That was not astonishing. Whilst the French armies marched through continental Europe almost at leisure, French naval victories were few, far between and limited to isolated single ship actions. Hence, the flower of France rather joined the victorious armies and the men left to command the ships were often quite happy to be blockaded. This did not mean that France had no energetic officers, but their initiative was often suffocated by their dispirited superiors.

This allowed the British to blockade the French ports with limited forces, sometimes even with mock fleets in which smaller inshore squadrons kept watch covered by make-believe fleets beyond the horizon. The French never knew the actual strength of the blockading forces, giving the British command opportunities to allocate line of battle ships to other tasks when needed.

Thomas knew all this from the gossip he’d heard in Gibraltar, but blockade duty would be new to him. Officers and crew had hoped for a detached duty, patrolling the enemy coastline, for that was a chance to conquer ships and earn the coveted prize monies. This was especially true for the numerous second and third sons who would not inherit the family possessions, but were used to their families’ lavish life styles.

Oliver Brown, the 1st lieutenant fell into that category, but he at least received generous stipends from his maternal grandfather, a Scots landowner. Adam Bingham had to live by his pay, but he was engaged to the only daughter of a wool merchant from the midlands. All he needed was promotion to commander for his bride’s father to give the final consent. Thomas, by contrast, was the sole heir to his family’s lands. During the last days of their stay in Gibraltar, he had even received the long awaited letter from his parents, containing another bank draft as a reward for passing the exam. This, together with his pay, gave him sufficient funds to contribute to the wardroom’s expenses and to afford a few amenities, such as a chest of books and a fine sword, the latter a forfeit pawn from a pawnbroker’s shop and as such quite a bargain.

Their captain was in the comfortable position of having successfully wooed the well-to-do widow of a regimental commander, Colonel Pelham. Mrs. Benning’s son had received a lion’s share of the estate, but his mother still had substantial means, which were now Captain Benning’s of course.

Pacing the deck and musing over these issues, the watch passed quickly for Thomas, and at noon he was relieved by the sailing master, Mr. Beverly. He took his noon meal in the wardroom after which he assembled his starboard battery for a gun drill. The twelve-pounders Andromeda shipped were longer than and as heavy as the 32-pounder carronades he was used to, and they required larger crews for handling. Still, whatever his predecessor’s faults might have been, the crews were well trained giving Thomas little to correct or improve.

Later in the day, he was taking some time to start the next letter to his parents, when he heard the masthead sing out a sail. Closing the inkwell and stowing away the letter, he rose and climbed up to the deck. The sighting was of a two-masted vessel, likely a brig, and as such in all likelihood British. Still, she bore closer examination, and the Captain had the rudder laid to starboard. Sailing with a full wind, Andromeda showed that she was a quite passable ship and they closed quickly to the brig.

Once the other ship was hull up, Andromeda hoisted her flag and the signal flags with the recognition signal. A minute later, the strange brig went about, clearly heading for Malaga. Immediately, the watches were roused and the topmen ran out the stunsails to either sides of the topsails and courses, increasing the press of sail. The royals were also set and the staysails appeared between the masts. Andromeda was now lying over in the breeze, and a cast of the log showed her to make 6 1/2 knots.

They were clearly gaining on the brig which would not or could not make more sail, but it was an open question whether they would catch her before she could reach Spanish waters. Not one to give up the slightest advantage, Captain Benning had the windward guns run out to even the ship a bit better, giving her keel more grip and yielding a slightly better turn of speed.

By the First Dogwatch, they had reduced the distance to a little over two sea miles, and by the Second Dogwatch they were within range of the long twelve-pounder bow chasers. The gunner, Mr. Abrams, was summoned and after carefully selecting some round shot, he loaded and laid the port side twelve-pounder with great care and an extra pinch or two of gunpowder. When Andromeda’s bow raised on the next wave, he jerked the laniard of the gunlock, and the gun roared out.

Five telescopes were raised to watch the sea around the foreign brig, and Thomas saw what looked like a water fountain.

“A cable length short and to the left, Sir,” he reported.

“Once the breech is hot, she’s in range,” Benning commented. “Keep firing, Mr. Abrams!”

The second long gun, also carefully loaded by the senior gun captain, barked and the fall of the next shot could not be ascertained. Then Mr. Abrams fired again, and the shot fell perhaps a pistol shot away from the brig’s hull, quite possibly hitting it as a ricochet. The starboard gun fired next, and again there was no splash to observe, but Thomas thought he saw splinters fly.

“You hit her!” Captain Benning exclaimed, confirming Thomas’s observation. “And still no land in sight!”

The next shot by the larboard gun hit the stern. Thomas could see damage under the stern windows, and suddenly the brig began to steer erratically.

“Hit the rudder! Well done, Mr. Abrams!” the Captain exclaimed. “She’s ours!”

Indeed, the brig’s crew could not bring her on a steady course anymore, the vessel zig-zagging quite openly, and she quickly lost what lead she had. Benning had Andromeda cleared for action, and when she drew up with her guns run out, the brig showed her Spanish colours and hauled them down again. On orders from the Captain, Mr. Brown took the longboat to accept the capitulation and to inspect the prize, and he returned rubbing his hands.

“She’s the Estrella del Vigo, 400 tons, one day out of Marbella, with a cargo of grain and wool cloth for Barcelona.”

“The fleet purser will buy up the grain for sure,” Captain Benning nodded. “I’d say, eight hands under a master’s mate. Was she damaged?”

“The rudder was hit, Sir, and her longboat was smashed.”

“Then we had better have the carpenter see to those damages before we send her back to Gibraltar,” Benning mused. “Send him over with his mates and a work crew, if you please!”

That evening, the mood in the wardroom was festive. The brig by itself might not fetch more than £1,200, but her cargo of 250 tons of wheat and almost five tons of cloth would exceed that value by at least twofold. After the prize agent had taken his cut, over £3,000 would be distributed, of which the wardroom would receive one eighth – over £100 per officer or half a year’s pay.

The repairs on the prize lasted until the next noon when she was sent off with her prize crew whilst Andromeda settled on a western course again. Five days later they passed Port Mahon, and three days later, Andromeda sighted the Mediterranean Fleet, some 20 miles off the coast. She hove to a cable length from the flagship, HMS Ville de Paris, 100, and Captain Benning was rowed over. He returned two hours later with new instructions. Andromeda would join a small squadron of frigates which blockaded Marseille, a port larger than Toulon, but with only limited naval presence. It was the leading commercial port of France, and blockading it was an important task.