Chapter 5: The Great South Sea

Two days later, and after a tearful good bye, HMS Medusa put to sea. After four days of clawing up against westerly winds, they reached Plymouth where they were joined by two prison transports. A third transport was not yet ready, waiting for another consignment of convicts from a distant prison. The two other captains insisted on sailing, saying that the prisoners were on board already and had to be fed. Tony pointed out to them that his orders were to escort three transports, but they lobbied the Port Admiral who sent a message to London. New orders were made out for Medusa to sail with the two transports ready for sea. The third transport, the Pretty Jane was to sail later without escort. With direct orders from the Admiralty, Tony shrugged and readied his small convoy for sailing.

It was a day after the armistice with France was proclaimed when the Medusa, followed by the two transports, weighed anchor and left Plymouth. En route on a westward course, they met the ships of the mid channel squadron. They were already returning from the blockade of Brest, and their darkened, patched sails spoke of months of hard blockade duty. Medusa received signal from the flagship, Victory, for Tony to report to the flagship. The little convoy hove to, while Tony was rowed across to the flagship where he was led before the Admiral, Sir Charles Parker.

“Good day, Captain, and sorry to delay you.”

“Good day, Sir Charles.”

“To make this short, Captain, you still have your wartime crew, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Sir Charles.”

“Your pressed men couldn’t get a discharge, could they?”

“No, Sir Charles.”

“Here’s the deal, Captain. There’s a lot of sailors on board my flagship who want to remain in the service, volunteers. They’ll be more than happy to trade places with any of your ship’s company who want to have a discharge. That will leave you with a crew of volunteers, and I know my men will be taken care of.”

Tony’s face brightened.

“I have about 85 pressed men, Sir Charles, but I am a bit under complement. I can accommodate up to 20 additional crew.”

“I can easily find a hundred and more willing to sail a frigate, Captain. Captain MacFarlane,” he spoke to his Chief of Staff, “be so kind and ask the squadron for volunteers. We can finish this in an hour. Thank you Captain, I appreciate your cooperation.”

“It is me who has to thank you, Sir Charles. Should I return to my ship to organise the exchange?”

“Yes by all means, Captain. Have a safe trip. You’re headed for New South Wales?”

Tony affirmed this.

“Great chance for you, Captain. Never had a chance myself of sailing the South Sea. Always the bloody blockade duty. Well, you better be on your way.”

Tony had himself rowed back to the Medusa. To his surprise, only 76 of the 85 men who had been pressed into service wanted to leave the ship. When the volunteers from the Mid Channel Squadron arrived, and those other men had left, Medusa had 15 men over her full complement, all volunteers. This was a rare luxury for a Royal Navy captain. Only the purser, Mr. Matthews, made a long face, since he had to feed the extra men, cutting into his profits.

They made good progress in the following days and weeks and finished the first leg of the journey to St. Helena in excellent time. There, they took water, and inevitably, the officers were invited to dinner with the Governor. Tony was seated with the Governor while his officers sat with the officers of the garrison. They were grilled by their hosts about the newest gossip from England, but it was nice to eat fresh food and drink cooled wine. Three days later, they sailed again. They rounded the Cape of Good Hope, and then made a straight east-northeastern dash for the Timor Straits south of Sumatra.

The Timor Straits are a narrow stretch of water between the island of Timor and the Australian continent. This was where ships en route to New South Wales had to pass. It was also a part of the journey where the greatest danger from pirates was looming. Captain Carter kept his small convoy in close formation and his own ship to windward at all time. The captains of the transports were experienced men, and they did their best to remain in close contact with the frigate.

They were off Melville Island when the lookout sang out his “Ship Ho!”. It was a Brigantine that was nearing the convoy from windward on a converging course. A brigantine was always bad news, because there were hardly any English ships with such a rigging. Tony’s suspicion was roused instantly. When Medusa came to the wind to investigate the strange sail, the brigantine altered course too, clawing to windward and clearly avoiding the British frigate.

Tony resisted the temptation to give chase; his job was to escort the transports after all, but he had misgivings about the suspicious sail.

The officers had assembled on the quarterdeck.

“Damn pirate, if you want my opinion,” the sailing master grumbled to nobody in particular.

“I dare say you’re correct, Mr. Boyle,” Tony conceded. “It’s a damned shame we cannot run him down, but our duty’s with the convoy. He may have an accomplice waiting for us to be lured away.”

“By God, you’re right, Sir. The pirates in these waters are damned cunning. It’s time somebody’s put a stop to them.”

“I suppose there’ll be a chance for us on the return journey. Those transports are supposed to wait for the next escort so I’ll be free to do some hunting.”

“I wonder where they have their base. Must be one of the small islands to the north. I just hope the Pretty Jane will not run into them.”

Tony thought about that.

“I guess, we can try to find them at the entrance to the strait on our way back and escort them as far as the Torres Strait, just to make sure.”

Mr. Boyle nodded and more was not said. The strange sail disappeared over the horizon, and the convoy continued their journey through the Arafure Sea and the Torres Strait. From there, they ran south easterly along the Great Barrier Reef, then past Cape Byron, before they cast anchor in Sydney Harbour exactly half a year after they had sailed from Portsmouth.

Sydney, in that time, was the centre of a penal colony and it looked the part. In addition, it was almost unbearably hot, even for Medusa‘s sailors of who were used to the clim ate of the Caribbean Sea. Even provisions for the ships were in scarce supply.

Tony felt uneasy anyway about the fate of Pretty Jane, and after a few days in which the crew replenished the water stores, he paid the necessary farewell visit to the governor.

With the next morning’s land breeze blowing, Medusa began her long voyage home. On the northward journey along the Great Barrier Reef, no sign of the Pretty Jane was seen, but Tony had hoped to rendezvous with the straggler later, beyond the island of Timor. He planned to turn around and escort the transport for as long as there was danger from pirates. He would then go about to return to England. This was the plan, and the Pretty Jane had still not been sighted when they turned westward and sailed through the Torres Straits. They had sailed close to 600 miles on their new course when the lookout in the masthead sighted a small boat.

Medusa bore down on the boat, which turned out to be a jolly boat. No movement could be seen, but there was a canvas-covered bundle near the stern sheets. Medusa backed her topsails and neatly laid alongside the small boat. The boat was hooked, and a midshipman jumped down to investigate while everybody watched. He lifted the canvas and started with surprise.

“There’s two women, Sir!” he cried towards the quarterdeck. “They look dead, Sir!”

“Mr. Turner,” Tony addressed the ship’s surgeon. “Kindly get down into the boat and see what you can make of this.”

Dr. Turner, a portly man, descended the rope ladder with some difficulty whilst one of his mates followed him with a bag of instruments. Almost immediately, the doctor turned up to the Captain.

“We need some water down here, Sir. They both seem to be alive. Seems like they’ve been cast out in the boat with no provisions.”

“Mr. Bell!” the captain addressed the midshipman, “Is there any sign from which ship this boat comes?”

“There’s ‘PJ’ burnt into the oars, Sir. I reckon it’s the Pretty Jane’s jolly boat.”

“Very likely, Mr. Bell. Bosun! Have the boat hoisted up on deck!”

“Aye aye, Sir!” came the reply, and within a few minutes, the jolly boat rested on deck in makeshift hocks. Meanwhile, the doctor’s ministrations had some effect on one of the young women. Her eyes were open, and she tried to speak. She could not, however, and made a weak gesture to her mouth.

“Give her more water!” Tony ordered and sat on his haunches beside the boat. After the poor woman had another quart of water, this time with some rum in it, she was able to clear her throat and whisper a feeble ‘Thank you’.

“Madam,” Tony addressed her, “I am Captain Carter of His Majesty’s Ship Medusa. Can you tell me what happened? Is this the Pretty Jane’s boat?”

To both questions the young woman nodded. She cleared her throat again with an effort and drank another draught of water before she spoke.

“I am Clarissa Durning. My father is - was - Captain James Durning of the Pretty Jane. We were attacked by a pirate. My father was killed” - here, she swallowed hard - “defending the ship. The pirates were too many. They killed all the men.”

“How did you escape, then?” Tony enquired cautiously.

“There is a secret hold under the main cabin where I hid. It was horrible. The leader of the pirates, he used the cabin, and in the first night, he...” she swallowed and looked at the blond girl, “ ... he had his way with Lucy here. I had to listen to all of it.” She shuddered with disgust. “When I heard him snoring that night, I sneaked out of my hiding place. I had this short sabre, and I ... I cut his head off.”

Tony had to admire this young woman. That had taken guts.

“How did you get into this boat?”

“They had left the jolly boat trailing. I roused Lucy, and we were able to reach it from the stern windows. We cut the line and drifted away. Then we took oars and rowed in a southward direction. We hoped to reach the main shipping route. We had no hope, really. But we thought, under the circumstances, that is was better to die at sea.”

“Just a moment, Miss Durning. Do you know which direction the pirates sailed?” Tony interjected.

“Northward, I think.”

“You are a brave young lady, Miss Durning. Did you hear anything about how far the hideout of the pirates may be away.”

“The leader sneered to Lucy that she would see her new home in two days.”

“Excellent, Miss, that narrows down the possibilities. We’ll find that hideout and then you can watch the murderers of your father swing from a yardarm.”

Just about this moment, the second young woman slowly regained her consciousness. Clarissa Durning turned to her and hugged her tightly.

“Lucy, we’re safe! This is a King’s ship. We will not die.”

“You’re safe, I’m still a convict,” the other woman whispered hoarsely.

“Don’t say that, Lucy. I’ll do anything in my power to get you a pardon.”

“Would you ask her if she knows anything that may help us locate the pirates?” Tony interjected.

The girl Lucy looked up at him and smiled as much as her crackling lips allowed.

“You can talk to me directly, Captain. I may be a thief but I can talk.”

“Sorry, girl. Why don’t you have some more water and then I shall ask my questions?”

“Yes, please. I can use some water.”

After she had slaked her thirst, she looked up at him.

“Miss Durning has already given me the story of what happened. I just need to know whether there is anything you know that may help us find the pirates and free the other captives.”

The girl tried to think and started to crinkle her nose, but the sunburn hurt and she relaxed her features.

“One of the pirates said we’d be living with them on their island and that it has a good - I don’t remember the word, something with anchor...”

“Anchorage?” Tony asked.

“Yes, anchorage. He said they have a village where they live and that we were the women they needed to start families.”

“He did not say anything of the whereabouts of that island, did he?”

“No, Captain. That’s all I remember. They were not talking a lot to begin with.”

“Well, I guess I will let you two young ladies have some rest. Giles!”, he bellowed for his steward.

“Sir?”

“See to it that the young ladies get the unused chamber on starboard. Have the smith fit a lock in the door and get two cots in there. In the meantime, let them rest in the after cabin and see to it that they have some food.”

“Aye aye, Sir.”

“And, Giles, see that they get a gallon of fresh water each to clean up.”

Giles nodded.

“Now if you will excuse me, ladies, and follow Giles here? He’ll do his best to make you comfortable.”

The young women stumbled under deck and Tony went to the chart roomwith the sailing master. Together, they studied the charts for a while.

“Must be that small island east of Timor, if you ask me, Sir.”

“Very likely, Mr. Boyle. The chart says it’s uninhabited, and there seems to be a good anchorage on the northwestern shore. We shall investigate it first.”

They set a course for the island in question, and the Medusa came to the wind again on a northward course. The excitement of the encounter and the prospect of immediate action galvanised the crew, and it seemed as if Medusa herself was feeling the tension. The ship tossed across the waves on her new course as if she were eager to see action. The officers made use of the afternoon to exercise the gun crews and the small detachment of the Royal Marines exercised on the main deck under their Lieutenant Walker. The two young women did not show, but Giles, the steward, reported that they were snoring in their chamber.

On the next morning, Tony invited them to share his breakfast, and when they showed, it became obvious that the sleep had done wonders. They had also used some tallow from the surgeon’s stores to moisten their parched lips. They were both a sight to behold.

Clarissa Durning was rather tall, probably just a shade under six feet, and while she was by no means skinny, she had a slender, sinewy appearance. The even features of her face were framed by straight dark brown hair that she had tied into a severe bun. She held herself upright, smiled little and did not behave like the 20 year old that she claimed she was.

Lucy Gutteridge, on the other hand, was apprehensive. That did not detract from the fact that she apparently had a sunny disposition. She was smaller, about five and a half feet, with blond curls, blue-grey eyes, a wide, full mouth and decidedly female forms. Out of necessity, both women wore men’s clothes, but there was no mistaking Lucy Gutteridge for a boy! From her first words the day before, Tony assumed that she was a convict deported to New South Wales, and he was interested in how such a lovely girl had earned such a harsh sentence.