Chapter 4: Captain

Anthony Carter, not quite 24 years of age, unfolded the crackling parchment. He looked at the crew of HMS Medusa, swallowed once and began to read loudly from the paper in his hand:

“Orders given to me, Anthony Carter, Esq., Captain Royal Navy, by Lord Wilbour Desson, K.C.B., Vice Admiral of the Red and Commander in Chief of his Majesty’s Naval Forces in the West Indian waters.

“Sir, you are hereby requested and required to assume the acting command of H.M. frigate Medusa, lying at present in Kingston Harbour.

“Signed: Wilbour Lord Desson, October 3rd, 1802.”

He folded the parchment. He had “read himself in”, a crucial formality of assuming command. Only now was he legally captain of the Medusa. He paused for a moment, trying to recollect what he wanted to say.

“You officers and men! Our good Captain Fanning has been appointed to a ship of the line. He has been an excellent captain for this ship for nigh on five years. Those are large footsteps to fill, but I am determined to follow the example he has set. Let us put all our efforts into keeping Medusa the happy and successful ship for which we know her.

“Now, you all have come to know me. You know I shan’t stand sloppiness in the execution of duties. Do your duties as you did under Captain Fanning, and we will write yet another successful chapter in the history of our beloved ship.

“Mr. Carson! Dismiss crew, if you please!”

“Aye aye, Sir! Hats on! Carry on!”

Mr. Woodrow, the boatswain, looked around and took a deep breath.

“Lads! Three hoorays for our new captain! One-”

“Hooray!” the men shouted as one.

“-two-”

“Hooray!”

“-three, and a tiger’s roar!”

“Hooray!”

The crews of the surrounding ships had climbed in the riggings to watch.

“Thank you, Mr. Woodrow,” Tony nodded.

He was moved but he could not show it now.

“Mr. Carson, you are 1st lieutenant now. You will find the necessary documents in your new cabin. We have to make ready for sea as quickly as possible. A Lt. Dunning will report on board later today to complete the wardroom. He is junior to you and to Mr. Lambert. I must go ashore for at least two hours. See to it that the stores are replenished from the victualling yard.”

The new Nº1 saluted, and Tony called for his gig. He called for the Captain’s steward, too, and told him to pack all his uniform coats. Epaulettes had to be fixed to the right shoulder of his uniform coats. That would do for the first voyage. He would need new uniform coats, however, and better shirts, breeches and shoes. Luckily, he had been able to save his inheritance and most of his prize monies over the past years. He was by no means rich, but he could afford appropriate uniforms.

Once ashore, with his steward in tow, he visited a tailor. There, he ordered three new Captain’s coats, a new cocked hat and a half dozen white breeches. He would also need silk cravats, silk stockings and silk shirts. The tailor rubbed his hands in excitement over this windfall and promised all these things to be ready when Captain Carter would returned to Kingston. Meanwhile, an apprentice added epaulettes to Tony’s old coats.

Less than two hours later, Tony left the tailor’s shop. He sent the steward back with the altered coats and took a cab to his house. Rushing in, he caused poor Rose to shriek in surprise before she recognised him and rushed into his arms.

“I’ve no time today, Rose. I am in a terrible hurry. I will come home tonight for supper if you can fix something for me. Then I will tell you everything. How is Emily?”

Emily was the child Rose had born two years ago, a lovely girl who was the spitting image of her mother.

“She is fine. I am so happy to have her. And I am happy to have you here for a day at least. How long can you stay?”

“Three days at the most. I may not be able to come home every night, but I’ll try.”

“Fine, I’ll have supper ready for you; I’ll hold myself ready, too,” she added with a sly grin.

Tony hugged her tightly and kissed her lips. “You do that and I’ll have something ready for you as well.”

Rose held him at arm’s length. “Something happened,” she stated, and looked him over. Her gaze caught the single epaulette on his right shoulder that signified a captain of less than three years seniority. “You’ve been posted! You’ve been posted captain!” she exclaimed. “I am so proud of you, Tony. Wait until the neighbours will hear. What ship?”

“Don’t tell them yet, Rose. Maybe, next time I am in harbour. Lord Desson has given me the Medusa,” he added and his pride showed. “Listen, I need to be on board. I’ll be back tonight.” He left her with a kiss and hurried back to where his gig was waiting.

Later that evening, after a whirlwind of activities, as he was rowed ashore by his gig’s crew, he thought about Rose. She had proven an invaluable help in the last years, easing the hardships of a sailor’s life. Always ready for him, always bringing happiness into his life without asking for anything. He knew that she also had advantages out of the arrangement: a decent living, good accommodations, the respectable position as a gentleman’s housekeeper, a modest but sufficient salary. But he felt that he still owed her. With this in mind, he entered a small jeweller’s shop on his way home and purchased a modest gold necklace with matching earrings.

When he entered his house, he was first greeted by little Emily who squeaked when he picked her up and pretended to poke her tummy with his finger. Rose came to relieve him of the little girl and to bring her to bed. He used the time to change out of his heavy coat and put on a fresh shirt. Supper was ready when he was done, and they sat down to eat. He told Rose of the day’s events and of his plans for the next days. She, in turn, told him about the necessary repairs to the house, the purchases she’d had to make and other mundane matters.

When they had finished supper, a certain playfulness entered their conversation. It was then when Tony asked her to sit with him on the bench by the fireplace. With some stuttering he managed to express his thanks and appreciation for her help during the last years. At last, he gave her the small parcel with the jewellery. Her response when she saw the necklace was a gasp. A second later, he suffered a violent attack on his mouth, and a tongue shoved into his throat. Rose was weeping and laughing and kissing him, all at the same time. When she calmed down a bit, she looked into his eyes.

“Thank you, Tony. This means so much to me. I know that I am not a woman you could marry. Yet, you have been so good to me and to Emily, and now you give me this beautiful necklace, and I know that you appreciate me. You are the first man ever to make me feel worthwhile, you know, more than just a whore.”

“But you are worthwhile, Rose. To Emily, to me, to the neighbours. They all think highly of you. I think highly of you. No matter how my life will turn out, you will always own a place in my heart, Rose.”

“Now stop it. You’ll have me crying all over again, and I don’t want to cry. I want to make love to you, I want you to feel as happy as I am. Let’s go to my room, shall we?”

They locked the door, extinguished the candles and went to Rose’s room. Within seconds they were locked in a passionate embrace, kissing and fondling each other. Piece by piece their clothing disappeared until their bare bodies intertwined. This was not the lusty coupling to which Tony was used. There was an urgency to their action, a deep feeling of togetherness. In that night, Rose became his lover, and he felt a deep fondness for her. They stayed together even after their climaxes, kissing and whispering endearments. Still cuddling together, the two lovers fell into an exhausted sleep.

Two days later, an extremely satisfied and incredibly tired Captain Carter took his ship, the frigate Medusa, out to sea, together with the rest of Lord Desson’s squadron. The last two days had seen him working tirelessly through the day, not only getting the ship ready for sea, but also studying the ship’s books. He had to reorganise the crew, promote petty officers, and to make sure his officers knew their new tasks. His nights had been spent in the arms of his lovely housekeeper, and he felt like the blood would never return to his sore member. Now he had to concentrate on his tasks to keep Medusa sailing in her prescribed position at the head of the squadron’s van.

For almost two weeks, Lord Desson worked his squadron through battle line evolutions, nightly alarms, landing operations, and simulated emergencies until everybody in the squadron, officers and men alike, cursed him. Yet, the purpose was well served, since more and more shortcomings were revealed until, near the end, even seasoned captains showed the strain. Everyone was relieved when the flagship, after 15 days, hoisted the signal for their return to Kingston.

The first evening back in port, the tired captains received an invitation by their admiral to dine at Admiralty House. After a delicious dinner, and before the wine could dull their senses, Lord Desson began to discuss the exercise. He was surprisingly positive, avoided to pin criticism to individual ships and their captains, and in general gave a boost to the squadron’s morale. He knew that he had driven them to the breaking point and that his experienced officers had seen their shortcomings themselves. When Anthony Carter staggered home late that night, he thought that he had met his commander-in-chief’s expectations.

Rose was still up when he came home. Of course, she had seen the squadron put into harbour, and she had assumed that he would come home that night. Tony was too exhausted, however, to do anything but take off his coat, neck-tie and shoes and drop onto his bed.

Rose roused him at sunrise the next morning because she did not know his plans for the day. Once again, he thanked providence for his housekeeper. He had to be back on board and set an example for the tired crew. After a hasty breakfast, he promised Rose that he would be back for supper and hurried to the harbour. A jolly boat brought him out to the Medusa, just when the morning watch was called. For several hours he was immersed in the task of organising the replenishment of stores. Several repairs had to be effected urgently, too. When he finally told himself that he could rest for a moment and have something for lunch, a boat from the flagship approached. A midshipman came up the entry port and saluted the quarterdeck. He handed an envelope to Tony, saluted and hurried back into his boat.

In the privacy of his cabin, Tony opened the envelope. It was an order to go to sea. In a week, Medusa was to guard a convoy of merchantmen from Kingston to London. Convoy duty was an unwelcome routine tasks for frigates, but as the youngest captain in the squadron, Tony could hardly expect to be asked his preferences.

“Guard, pass the word for Mr. Carson!”, he shouted at the cabin door.

A minute later, his First Lieutenant appeared.

“Sir, you asked for me?”

“Mr. Carson, we have new orders. We’ll take the convoy to London next week. See to it that you use this week in port to renew the water. Inspect the pork barrels and the other provisions and have the boatswain inspect the running rigging. It’s not often that we have a week in port.”

“Aye, aye, Sir!” came the answer, although until three weeks ago they had been sharing the Medusa‘s wardroom.

Left alone in his cabin, he felt tempted to chide his steward for not having prepared the lunch he desperately needed. He thought better of it and called for his gig instead. He had himself rowed to the shore and visited an upscale eating house where he had an excellent lunch. Then he visited his tailor. His new coats were ready, as was the rest of his orders. The bill amounted to more than £22, a small fortune, but a necessary expenditure. His career may well depend on making a favourable outward appearance.

The tailor sent one of his apprentices to accompany Captain Carter and carry the new clothes to his house. This was almost ridiculous to Tony; he was an able-bodied man who could carry a few coats and shirts himself, but the tailor insisted that it was inconsistent with the dignity of a captain to carry a bundle of clothes.

When Captain Carter reached his home, several neighbours greeted him on the street to congratulate him on his promotion. He had never realised it, but he was a hero to the people who had watched him grow up. He was one of them, and he had reached the exalted rank of a post captain!

More and more people joined. There was no other way, he had to invite the neighbours into his house. Rose rushed into the cellar to fetch a few bottles of wine, and it took almost three hours until the last well wisher had his fill. Tony himself had drunk sparingly; he did not like the feeling of being drunk. When they were finally alone again, he helped Rose to clear the wreckage his neighbours had left in the living room, against her protestations to be sure. Little Emily watched them from her stool and, finally, Tony remembered that she, too, had something to celebrate. He rushed to his room, where the tailor’s apprentice had dropped the parcels and sifted through them. When he had found what he had been looking for, he returned to the living room.

“Happy birthday, Emily,” he said, handing her the parcel he had brought. The child clumsily ripped off the paper wrappers and a huge smile lit up her pretty face.

“Mummy, look! A doll!”

And indeed it was a doll that Tony had ordered from the tailor. Little Emily clutched it to her chest and beamed at her mother. Rose, in turn, looked at Tony with a look of deep affection in her eyes.

“You’re just too good to us,” was all she managed to say.

“Ah, forget it. It’s her birthday, isn’t it,” Tony tried to downplay the matter.

“If anything should ever happen to me, will you look after her, please?” Rose suddenly asked with a slightly trembling voice.

“Well, certainly I shall,” Tony assured her. “You are both dear to me. I should feel honoured to take care of Emily. But why do you ask? Is anything amiss?”

“No, dear. I am just worried. I am the only person Emily has. You know, when my mother died, nobody cared for me. This is how I ended up in the Blue Posts. I don’t want that to happen to Emily.”

“Well, Rose, be assured that I shall look after Emily if ever the need will arise. Does this placate your worries?”

“Yes, it does. Thank you for your kindness.”

“Now, Rose, let’s stop this. You know damn well that you mean a lot to me. And how much I appreciate you as a woman you should know as well,” he added with a grin.

“I’ll put Emily to bed now,” she responded. “Say Good Night to the Captain, Emily. Yes, you may keep the doll.”

“Good night, Sir,” the child chirped and followed her mother upstairs to her room.

Later that evening, Rose joined Tony in his bed. This night, there was no passionate love making. Both were content to sleep in each other’s arms, to enjoy the security of the other person’s embrace.

A week later, using the weak puffs of the land breeze, HMS Medusa crawled out of Kingston Harbour under her topsails. Behind her, the ships that formed the convoy followed suite. The captains of the merchantmen were experienced in the convoy business. The war had been lasting for eight years, and those who could not or would not learn to co-operate with the Navy escorts had long since been weeded out by French and Spanish privateers.

Once the convoy caught the trade winds, Tony positioned Medusa to windward of his charges. From this position, he could reach each of the ships entrusted to his protection in very short time. The 32 gun-frigate was likely to be of superior strength to any privateer that might attempt to catch one of the valuable merchantmen. As long as each ship stayed in the prearranged position within the convoy, they were reasonably safe, and indeed, the three-week journey went without any incident.

It was a sunny Sunday in late November when they cast anchor in the Pool of London, and Tony Carter was rather excited. He had been to London before sailing with his father, but he had merely been a boy then. He was looking forward to seeing the capital of the realm. He was also anxious to get his promotion confirmed. He had to be “posted” in the London Gazette, the official bulletin of the Admiralty, to have his captaincy for certain. Promotion by the commander in chief of a foreign station was usually confirmed without questioning. Yet still, one could never be certain.

Therefore, the next morning saw acting captain Anthony Carter in his best uniform and with all his papers sitting in the antechamber of the Secretary to Their Lords Commissioners for Executing the Office of Lord High Admiral, Mr. Edward Nepean, waiting for an interview with the man who, in effect, ran the Royal Navy. After waiting for an hour, he was shown in. Mr. Nepean was a gentleman of the highest refinement. He took his time studying the documents Tony had produced, then reread part of them. Looking up, his clear blue eyes fixated on Tony.

“You are aware, Captain, that our government is negotiating a peace with France? No? Well, it is so. As soon as an agreement is reached, we shall have an armistice. Of course, the Royal Navy will be cut down in size, and no promotions will be authorised.”

A chill ran down Tony’s spine. “You mean to say, Sir, that I will not be posted?”

Mr. Nepean allowed himself a smile. “No, Captain, I mean to say that we shall have to hurry to get you into the Gazette. Before our politicians, in their infinite wisdom, will ruin a promising career.

The relief must have been evident in Tony’s features. “Thank you, Sir.”

“We shall also have to give you some time in your first command. We shall have to send you far away and out of reach. You realise that once an armistice is in effect, most of our ships will be laid up, and your precious frigate, so insignificant now, will be coveted by hundreds of captains on half pay, all of them senior to you. You will therefore escort three prisoner transports from Plymouth to New South Wales. The Dartmoor was supposed to escort those ships, but she was hit by lightning last week. Your appearance here is a stroke of good luck. Besides, this should give you at least one year in your new command.”

“Thank you, Sir!”

“Don’t thank me, Captain. Just do your duty. You’ll receive your orders tomorrow, so you better make ready for sea. You’ll be sailing in a week. Carry on.”

“Aye ay, Sir!”

With that, Tony hurried out. If he was to sail to the other end of the world a week from now, there was a lot to do. A one horse dray brought him to Whitehall embankment where his gig’s crew waited for him. Back on board, he informed his officers of the new plans. He secured the help of the ship’s purser to assist his steward in replenishing the cabin stores. The members of the wardroom were anxious, too, to obtain sufficient provisions for a journey that would likely take a year to complete. Tony also ordered the crew’s provisions to be examined thoroughly and to take an extra consignment of navy rum which was not to be found in the Great South Sea.

After he had inundated his officers with various tasks and responsibilities, he sat down at his desk and wrote several letters. He had to inform his faithful housekeeper and lover of the fact that he would not return to Kingston for at least a year. He also wrote a letter to his solicitor in Kingston, to arrange for the financial needs of Rose to be taken care of. Next, he wrote a few billets announcing his presence to the few people he knew in London. He hesitated and then wrote another billet to Lady Lambert whom he knew to have taken residence in London while her husband was stationed in the Baltic Sea. That finished, he called his secretary and had him deliver the billets.

It was well past noon when he had a short lunch. Afterwards, he called his boat’s crew once more and had himself rowed ashore. A cab took him to Whitehall, and he spend a few precious hours viewing the centre of the British World.

When he returned to Medusa, he found several notes on his desk, mostly acknowledging his billets. One of them, however, was an invitation by Lady Lambert to have tea with her the next day, in Sir Richard’s townhouse on Cavendish Square. She also asked him to bring Lt. Lambert. Tony cursed himself for not allowing young Andrew Lambert to visit his family. He quickly wrote a note of acceptance to be delivered the next morning, and then informed his Nº2 of the invitation. Andrew Lambert’s relief was evident; he had not seen his family in almost two years.

In the evening, Tony returned to shore and had his supper at a restaurant that catered to Navy officers. He used this opportunity to acquaint himself with as many brother captains as possible. He also gathered a lot of information about the situation in Europe and the state of the Navy. The older captains were helpful and kind to the most junior entry in the list of captains. Once the rank of post captain was reached, all promotions and appointments were allotted strictly depending on seniority, the notable exception being the Duke of Clarence, second-oldest son of George III., who was promoted with unseemly haste. While this system made for a certain inflexibility, putting able officers under the command of senior, sometimes less able captains, it also served to reduce jealousy among the captains and promote co-operation.

When Tony returned to the Medusa, he conceded to himself that he had spend a most delightful and informative evening. The day had left him exhausted, though, and he slept soundly until four bells were sounded on the morning watch. After a brief breakfast, he spend the morning in negotiations with the Navy Yard and Dock Yard officials to obtain enough spare parts and provisions to see him through his long voyage. After lunch, he had a meeting with his officers to discuss their progress. That finished, he dressed in his second best uniform to make his call upon Lady Lambert.

A rented cab brought him and his Second Lieutenant, Andrew Lambert, to Cavendish Square where upon his knock, they were received by a footman and shown into a tea room. He noticed that the table was set for more than just four people.

“I suspect, Sir, that my mother will entertain a number of guests,” Andrew Lambert confided to his Captain. “This is my first visit here; father purchased the house after his return from the West Indian Station.”

They heard light footsteps outside, and then Harriet Lambert rushed into the tea room and hugged her brother fiercely. Stepping back, she took in his appearance.

“You look distinguished, Andy. Oh my god, I am so happy to see you!” She positively beamed at her brother whom she had barely tolerated as a boy. Remembering her manners, she turned to Anthony Carter. “It is good to see you, too, Captain. Thank you for taking such good care of my brother, and my felicitations on your promotion. We all knew that there was a brilliant career ahead of you.”

Tony bowed to Harriet Lambert. “Well, Miss Lambert, there is no need to thank me. Lt. Lambert took care of himself all right, and I count myself lucky to have him among my officers. It is good to see you again. I trust that you feel more comfortable being back in London?”

“Well, to tell the truth, Captain, I miss the sun. I never realised just how cold it is in England.”

Just then, Lady Lambert entered the room. With a short, apologising look at Tony Carter, she rushed to her son and embraced him. This outbreak of emotion did not last long though, and Lady Lambert welcomed her other guest warmly, treating him, in fact, like an old friend of the family. The footman announced the arrival of new guests, and Tony swallowed, hearing the name of Sir John Jervis, Earl of St. Vincent. The First Lord of the Admiralty was a sailor of tremendous fame, having conquered the Spanish Fleet at Cape St. Vincent in a battle that won him an earldom. Lady Lambert certainly was well connected to receive the supreme commander of the Royal Navy and his wife for tea. He realised that this arrangement was primarily for the benefit of young Andrew Lambert, but still, he was elated to meet the First Lord face to face.