Winning Read online

  Winning

  by

  David O’Neil

  W & B Publishers

  USA

  Winning © 2015. All rights reserved by David O'Neil.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any informational storage retrieval system without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

  W & B Publishers

  For information:

  W & B Publishers

  Post Office Box 193

  Colfax, NC 27235

  www.a-argusbooks.com

  ISBN: 9781942981121

  ISBN: 1942981120

  Book Cover designed by Dubya

  Printed in the United States of America

  Winning

  Part One

  July 1812

  Chapter One

  Independent Command

  The deck felt right beneath Martin’s feet, although it had only been a matter of twelve weeks since he was last on board HMS Vixen. Back on board a ship he felt comfortable, where he belonged. He confessed to himself, he was still a little uncomfortable with his land-based title as Sir Martin Forest-Bowers, Bart.

  Lady Jennifer, his wife, accepted her place without any problem. As the daughter of a naval captain, now a titled Vice-Admiral, and a noble Lady in her own right, she had been groomed for the part since she was a child.

  There was a clatter and a shout, disturbing his train of thought. He turned to see Peters, his cox’n, directing two men to bring a cupboard for glassware aboard. It was to be secured in his cabin alongside his new wine cabinet. Constructed to match, the two units made a handsome contrast to the rather spartan furnishings which Martin had lived with up to now.

  He ran his hand over the length of new timber replacing the rail, which had been shattered in the engagement with the French on his return from America. First Lieutenant Patrick Brooks joined him. “The remainder of your furniture has been delivered and installed, sir.”

  Martin looked up and grinned. “I suppose it is something I must learn to live with now. I always liked the way the cabin was before our French friends re-arranged it.”

  Brooks smiled grimly, “A fair exchange if I might put it that way, sir, one frigate-captain’s cabin for one 74-gun ship of the line!”

  Martin smiled. “I suppose, put that way, I cannot complain.” He straightened up and looked with affection over the ship, his command. The raw-looking replacement timber where the enemy cannon had ripped and torn the fabric stood out against the weathered appearance of the rest of the woodwork. A few weeks at sea and the scars would disappear. The Atlantic weather soon took care of that. “She is a good ship!” He said almost under his breath.

  Brooks heard. “She is that,” he agreed.

  The arrival of a carriage on the quayside interrupted Martin’s train of thought. He turned to see Peters, his Cox’n, already assisting Jennifer to the gangway, followed by his nine year old daughter, Jane, pretty in her summer dress. As Jennifer approached, Jane put her hands up to Peters, who swept her up high in his arms, causing her to laugh happily.

  “Good day to you, Patrick. Will I be introduced to your fiancée before you sail?”

  Without pausing, she raised her cheek for her husband’s kiss, and held her hand out to the blushing Lieutenant.

  Patrick bent over her hand, cleared his throat and managed, “It would be my pleasure to introduce you as soon as it can be arranged, my lady.”

  “We will expect you, if it is agreeable, on Wednesday, at Eastney, just a small private gathering of family and friends only. Your departure at the end of the week allows little time for social activities, so we must make the most of the time we have.”

  With a smile she turned and took Martin’s arm. “Now, my dear, show me your refurnished cabin. I trust it is an improvement on the ‘monk’s cell’ you used to occupy.” Their daughter, Jane, was by this time sitting cross-legged on the deck looking at an array of small knick-knacks which McLean, the former poacher, had laid out on deck to show her. James Woods, now Midshipman, looked on with interest.

  ***

  The house at Eastney was alive with activity when Martin arrived on Wednesday afternoon, having spent the morning in the office of the Admiral-in-Command of the shipyard at Portsmouth. It was Admiral Hope’s task, one he took most seriously, to see that the ships passing through his hands, were in the best possible condition before they were allowed back to sea. Martin had always tried to spend time with the Admiral who was now well into his declining years, though as his friends observed, in body alone. He was still as keen-minded, and astute as ever.

  Lady Jane Bowers, Martin’s adoptive mother, greeted him, presenting her cheek for a kiss. “My dear, we are in turmoil because we are fourteen at table instead of twelve.” She smiled. Martin looked at her fondly. She was still as beautiful as ever, though her hair was now silver.

  “You are as lovely as ever, Jane. If your daughter follows in your steps I am doubly blessed.”

  “Flattery, Martin. You never change!”

  “Nor do you, Jane, nor do you.” Taking her arm, he walked her through the French windows into the still-sunlit garden. As they walked, Jane confided her worry about Charles. “Martin, he is so busy at the Admiralty he does not eat properly and gets no exercise. I can see him getting unhealthier day by day. I do not want to lose him. I do wish he would retire and leave it to others to get things done.”

  Martin agreed with her, but he understood his adoptive-father’s reasons for remaining at his post. The war with France was bad enough, but the war with America was just more worry about over-stretched resources.

  They walked in silence for a few minutes then Jane brightened up. “Giles and Isabella are here with us, also Lieutenant Brooks will be here with his fiancée, Dorothea Winton, I believe. Do I understand that she is the daughter of the Rector of Wareham?”

  “That is correct. He spotted her in passing and could not, nay would not, rest until he had discovered who she was. A meeting was arranged, and as a result they found they shared the same feelings, and that day they became engaged, with the Rector’s blessing.”

  The successful dinner party was the last event before the departure of HMS Vixen. Martin’s title of Commodore was withdrawn because the ship was now in company only with their old friend, the schooner HMS Hera, still under the command of Lieutenant John Harris, also present at the party, though as yet without a wife or expectation. He had pointed out to his colleagues that marriage was a lottery, especially for a seaman. It was even more difficult for a man as expert as himself, since he was in demand all the time with little chance to socialise.

  At this point his friends would either sit on him, or throw him into water if it was available. Needless to say, apart from being an excellent officer, he was a good friend and popular with his colleagues and crew.

  ***

  The two ships had been at sea for just three days; for the majority of those aboard any initial queasiness was now past, with sea-legs once more well and truly regained.

  Martin felt a little odd sailing without his friend, Commodore Antonio Ramos of the Portuguese Navy. Other Portuguese ships had arrived, and Antonio had found himself as senior officer, in command of his own flotilla. He had consequently been sent, with his ships, to the Island of Madeira to ensure there was no attempt by the French to seize the island. This excursion was scheduled to be followed by a visit to the Brazilian seaboard for the same reason. He was due back from his expedition two months hence.

  Martin’s original task had been to gather information. Since the event of Britain’s former colony America actually declaring war, he was now tasked to make a nuisance of himself and create as muc
h turmoil as possible.

  But things, however well planned, tend to be altered by circumstances. When the two naval ships were approaching Cap de la Hague, at the end of the Cherbourg peninsular, they encountered the French corvette, Oiseau, which happened to be attempting to apprehend two smugglers escaping through the Channel Islands.

  The yawl leading the escape was followed by a former naval cutter, which was just setting her sails fully, to allow her to head-reach on the pursuing ship. The unfortunate Corvette racing under full sail from the channel between Alderney and the Cap de la Hague had no chance to run from the naval ships, her guns were not run out and she was on a converging course with HMS Hera.

  HMS Vixen was bringing up the rear, and whilst, at the sighting both British ships had cleared for action, the French ship was just not prepared for conflict.

  The Oiseau was a survivor of the French Royal Navy. Her 24 guns were sufficient for her size, and her graceful lines promised a speedy ship in the right hands. Her current captain, Camille Berthold, had been a fisherman. His previous boat had normally carried smuggled goods. His successful efforts as a smuggler had made his reputation in the area, particularly when war had made things simpler, with a blind eye shown to his activities.

  The Corvette, under her original name, Garonne, had been part of the rebellion and, as things went in the time of terror, old scores were paid off simply by accusing old enemies of crimes against the people. Feuds were only too often settled with the help of the guillotine.

  Camille Berthold had never been prominent in these matters. But he was always prepared to give consideration when a question was put to him. It would only ever be after a sober, initial, public display of assessment. Often it would be a private summing up of whether the accused could be of use to his career, or not. He would advise the people of his opinion. Such was his growing reputation for even-handedness, his judgement was respected.

  Still a young man at 35, Berthold had been present when the crew of the Garonne mutinied while tied up alongside at his home town, Granville.

  The incident was brought to him since the ship was tied alongside the town quay. He listened to the case for the captain with great interest, also the case for the men. He retired to consider a verdict. It was here that he made the first mistake in his short career as a people-appointed arbiter. He condemned the captain and left the court on the shoulders of the crew, who chose him to be their new captain.

  To do him justice, Berthold learned to handle the pretty warship, renamed Oiseau, so that the connection with the former French Royal Navy was fogged, if not actually severed. Since he had taken over, he had made several profitable sorties into the Channel waters, pirating stray merchant ships of all nationalities – a practice that met with his recently acquired crew’s approval.

  Having worked into his role, and found a uniform, the captain also took part in some naval activities, thereby acquiring a certain respectability he did not really deserve.

  It all went wrong when two smugglers failed to produce Berthold’s portion of their cargo. Believing they were undiscovered, they left Granville harbour in the night and sailed into the cover of the offshore islands.

  Watchers informed Berthold, so he set sail to cut them off at the passage past Alderney, sadly arriving just in time to see the pair passing through into the Channel itself.

  Deciding to give chase was where it all went wrong. As he sailed past the Cap de la Hague he saw the two British ships bearing down on him.

  Always a man to play the odds, Berthold shrugged, ordered one gun fired, and then had the tricolour lowered, signaling his ship’s surrender.

  The sails of the two smugglers taunted him as they fled across the waters of the Channel.

  When seated and questioned by the British, Captain, Berthold adopted his arbiter stance, treating each question with proper gravity. He was quite open about his port of origin, and his purpose in chasing the smugglers, omitting the subject of his portion, of course. “Granville is no longer fortified, though the walls still exist. Since the siege in 1793 there seemed no reason to continue keeping troops in the area. Apart from the small town garrison, currently one company of local militia, there are none. The militia act as guards for British prisoners taken from ships and shipwrecks over the past years. I believe about two hundred in all.” He willingly pointed out the location of the prison. “The prisoners were well fed, and looked after. This I know. They are sometimes allowed out in town to take part in preparing for festivals and occasions.”

  Martin looked the man sitting in front of him. “I am going to send your crew back to France. I will land them on the Grande Isle. I have also decided to collect the prisoners from the jail.”

  Berthold sat impassively saying nothing, interested in what this man was saying.

  “You will assist if you will, by arranging for that release.” Martin sat back and watched the realisation cross the face of the man in front of him.

  “My English is good, I believe. You are saying that I am to release the British prisoners?”

  Martin nodded. “Exactly, in return for the release of your crew from Oiseau. I will then take the prisoners and send them home along with yourself, for your own safety, of course. I may not have you sent to prison, but I think instead to someone who will be happy to use your talents, to everyone’s benefit, I believe.”

  “I may consider this?” Berthold was puzzled.

  “I will be sailing to Granville in your ship one way or the other, as soon as I have completed our discussion.” He took out his watch, “You have five minutes.” Martin rose to leave.

  For once Berthold did not hesitate. “I have decided to accept your intriguing offer, sir. I am at your disposal.”

  “Capital. Now, how will you obtain the prisoners?” Martin sat down once more.

  “I will send a message to the captain in charge.” Berthold said.

  Martin considered for a moment. “How would it be if we, you and I, with a group of my men of course, walked up to the prison and spoke to the captain personally. Inform him that the prisoners are to be transferred to Cherbourg on your ship. You would need ten guards only, your own men would help if needed. How does that sound?”

  A smile spread across Berthold’s face. He had not realised that the British could be so devious. “I think it would work, sir. Yes, indeed. a good plan!”

  Chapter two

  Risks

  The Corvette sailed into Granville, with Berthold prominent on deck next to an officer in captain’s uniform, the Tricolour prominently wrapped about his waist. The ship was crewed by men from both British ships, many of them royalist Frenchmen.

  She came alongside her usual place on the quay. The gangway was placed and Berthold, the captain and six men armed with muskets at their shoulders, came ashore and strode off to the old barrack building which had been constructed next to the port buildings.

  The captain of the militia, Armande Artois, leapt to his feet at the sight of the naval officer standing before him. He turned to Berthold. “What is this? What do you want?”

  Berthold held out a paper to the militia officer. “Armande, Captain Lature is here to transfer all the British prisoners to Cherbourg. They will use my ship for the short voyage. Be a good fellow and assemble them to travel. I am sure you will be pleased to see them gone. Now, come on. Let us move. I do have the tide to worry about.”

  Captain Artois took the paper and glanced at the writing. He could not read but saw no reason to divulge that fact, nor reason to question these orders. He rose and called out, “Sergeant, we are moving the prisoners. Get them up and in line. Bring the sick in the wagon.”

  “Yes, sir!” The sergeant started calling orders. There were seven sick, all placed in the wagon. The column of 170 men led the wagon down to the quay. They were accompanied by twelve guards. All were loaded on board and made to sit on deck, leaving passages between them for the crew to move about. The militia captain returned to the shore calling, “Return my men w
hen the prisoners have been delivered.”

  The gangway was lifted and the Corvette left the quay side. They departed, passing Grande Isle, where the crew of the Oiseau had already been dropped. There they dropped off the disarmed guards, before sailing up the Alderney passage to rejoin the two British ships off Cap de la Hague.

  The prisoners, an assortment of both naval and merchant seamen, realising they had been released were more than happy to volunteer to crew the prize to Falmouth.

  Acting Lieutenant Athol Gibbs commanded the prize for the voyage to Falmouth where she would be left for disposal as a prize of war. HMS Hera would accompany her and collect Gibbs, after he had handed Berthold over to the agent for the current ‘plain Mr. Smith’. In a note to Alouette, Comtesse de Chartres, Martin had suggested Berthold might be useful in the shadowy world of espionage.

  HMS Hera would rendezvous with Vixen at Funchal, Madeira, which was scheduled to be the first official port of call.

  ***

  The voyage to the island was without incident, and the crew were well shaken down in the process.

  It was in Funchal that Martin had news of Antonio Ramos and his flotilla. While visiting the Governor in Government House he was informed that Commodore Ramos was presently on his way to Brazil, having called just two weeks ago for a formal visit to the colony.

  Martin was well received and he accepted an invitation to dine with his host for himself and his officers.

  His Excellency, Carlos Eusavio, said that in Funchal it was de-rigueur to bring the young men from visiting ships, as the young ladies on the island had no other chance to meet people of their own age from elsewhere. The hospitality was lavish and the younger members of the Vixen’s gunroom were pestered with invitations from the young ladies of the island.