St. Vincent - 17. Chapter 17

December 20, 1796

Dawn broke to find them alone on the sea. “Mr. Clifton, you may secure from action,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” Clifton said dutifully, and then began rapping out the orders that would restore Belvidera to her normal state. The cabins would be re-partitioned, and the furniture, fittings, and livestock would all return to their normal locations.

Belvidera thrashed along to the northeast with her captured consort in tow, seemingly oblivious to the activity inside her. Granger strode to the taffrail and looked down at the cable, Belvidera’s largest, that extended through the aft gunports to Sabina’s foc’sl, where it was securely attached. Of that last part, Granger was sure. Roberts would never be remiss when it came to something as important as attaching a tow cable.

Granger let his eye take in Sabina, newly illuminated by the dawn light. Her spars were shot up; so much that they could carry no sail. He watched as Roberts directed his crews to try to shore up the damaged masts and yards enough to carry some piece of canvas, no matter how small. Even a little bit of sail would ease Belvidera’s burden immeasurably.

Granger turned his eyes back to his own ship, where his crew was trying to do the same thing for Belvidera. Sabina had shot up the rigging much more severely than they’d thought, and Granger was just now grappling with how extensive the damage was. There were a few holes in her main and foremasts, and so many of the ropes were shot through that they would almost have to re-rig the ship. Despite that damage, his crew had worked wonders. They’d been able to shore up the main mast and fore mast enough to set double reefed mainsails, and that had given them enough leverage to keep Belvidera moving forward, and to let her drag Sabina along as well.

Granger saw Nelson climb up the hatch to the quarterdeck, then stroll confidently aft. “Any sign of Blanche, Granger?” Nelson asked as he joined him at the taffrail.

“No sir,” Granger said.

“Where the hell has Preston gone off to?” Nelson demanded.

“I don’t know, sir,” Granger answered honestly. He shared Nelson’s irritation. Having Blanche here would have helped immeasurably, since the two wounded vessels could tap into her stores for spars, canvas, and rope. They also could have requisitioned some of her men to ease the burden on Granger’s exhausted crew.

He heard hammers below as Brookstone found some men to make repairs to the gun deck. Both he and Clifton were performing superbly, even though both of them were in way over their heads. Granger thought about Carslake, and felt his emotions churn as he tried to digest this latest loss. The man had been with him since the siege of Toulon, and had followed him through his service there to his first ship, the Intrepid. When Granger had transferred to Belvidera, the redoubtable and reliable Carslake had transferred here as well. Originally from the lower deck, Granger had recognized his sterling qualities and had gotten him promoted. It was rare in the Navy for a man to start as a seaman and rise to become an officer.

That is not to say that Carslake did not have his flaws. He drank more than most, so much that patience and forbearance had been required by his fellow officers because of some of the idiotic things he said when he was inebriated. He tended to be unimaginative, the kind of man who was good at following orders or a simple plan, but one who was flummoxed by some of the more challenging puzzles they had solved in the past. But not every officer had to be a brilliant tactician, and not every officer had the ability to think himself out of a tough situation. No, there were other attributes, golden attributes, required of an officer, attributes that were just as important as creativity and intelligence. Having decided to adopt that axiom, Granger concluded that his original thoughts of Carslake were correct, and that Carslake’s reliability had probably been his strongest trait. It was something they could use right now. Something they desperately needed right now.

“Mr. Clifton,” Granger called.

“Sir?”

“Let’s re-light the galley fire and get a warm meal in our bellies,” Granger said jovially, more to hide his own sadness at thinking about Carslake than due to any great good cheer.

“Aye aye sir,” he said, and dutifully passed the word for the cook. The men heard the order, and even those who hadn’t heard it could see and smell the smoke as the stove was lit and stoked. Granger looked back at Sabina and saw a similar cloud of smoke rising from her focs’l as well; Roberts had mimicked Granger’s order for breakfast. He wondered what the food was like aboard the Spanish vessel. Did they use more spices than the bland fare meted out to Belvidera’s crew? The prize crew would have some interesting stories when they came back, Granger thought.

Granger summoned Winkler and asked him to prepare something for their passengers, then began a methodical tour of the ship. The men were too busy working to be interrupted with small talk today, which was fine with Granger. His focus was on assessing, at first hand, the damage Sabina had wrought on them. He had just completed his inspection when Winkler told him that dinner was being served in his cabin.

“Ah Granger, so good of you to tear yourself away from your duties to join us,” Nelson said affably as he entered the cabin.

“I fear my stomach explained things to me, sir,” Granger said with a smile. He forced fears and concerns about his ship to the back of his mind and put on his charming façade to entertain their Spanish prisoners.

“Don Jacobo was just telling me that you inflicted some 164 casualties on his crew before they struck,” Nelson said. That was an exorbitantly high number, and would mean that over half of Sabina’s crew had been incapacitated. It was hard to believe such a casualty rate, but diplomacy demanded that Granger not call Stuart a liar and just accept his statement.

“I must compliment you on so bravely fighting your ship, sir,” Granger said gamely to Stuart with a deferential nod. “Such a feat of heroism is an example to all of us.”

“You are too kind, Capitan,” Stuart said. “I think I would have been a bigger hero had I suffered those casualties and been victorious.” That got a laugh from all of them.

“I am confident that your countrymen will understand your efforts, and will know that victory in battle has much to do with luck,” Granger allowed.

“I can see from your manners that you have spent much time at Court,” Stuart said with a smile. He was an engaging man. “Both yours and mine.”

“I have had that honor,” Granger agreed. “My visit to the Alhambra was a memory to be treasured.”

“It is not every foreigner that is honored individually by His Most Catholic Majesty,” Stuart said with almost exaggerated reverence. Granger was of a mind to tell Stuart that the memory he was relishing at that moment was actually of the last night he spent with the Duke of Cardona.

“That truly was an honor,” Granger agreed.

They were just finishing dinner when Villiers entered the cabin. He looked flustered, but a stern look from Granger seemed to calm him. “Sir, Mr. Clifton sent me to get you. We have sighted another ship.”

“Is it Blanche?” Nelson asked.

“No, sir,” Villiers said nervously. “Mr. Clifton believes it is the other Spanish frigate.”

“That would be the Matilde,” Stuart said.

“If you gentlemen will excuse me, I must go up on deck. I fear that if you are correct, Don Jacobo, we will need to discommode you as we clear for action again.”

“We will not get in your way, Captain,” he said, a pledge as much as a comment.

Granger strode slowly from the cabin so as not to let the Spaniards see him look frazzled, then increased his pace as soon as he was out of their presence. “What do we have now, Mr. Clifton?” Granger asked.

“It looks to be the other Don frigate, sir, approaching from the south-southwest” he said.

Granger took out his glass and studied the other ship. “The Matilde,” he said, leaving Clifton to wonder how his Captain knew that. Matilde was clearly in pursuit of her former consort and Belvidera. She had all her sails set, including her royals, as she surged toward the crippled duo of Belvidera and Sabina. Granger internally criticized the seamanship of his rival captain, noting that Matilde carried more sail than was needed. The extra canvas she was showing was giving her more leeway, so by spreading the extra sails, she was actually losing speed. Granger remembered having a conversation about that with Chartley, and that conjured up memories of that man, another enigma in Granger’s life. He pulled himself out of his daydream, knowing that as exhausted as he and his men were, he’d need all of his energy soon enough.

“Sir, Mr. Roberts is hailing us,” Clifton said. Granger went aft to the taffrail. Nelson came up on deck and joined him there.

“Sir,” Roberts shouted. “We’re ready to get some sail on her!”

“Very well, Mr. Roberts,” Granger shouted back. “We’ll be casting you off so we can go take care of our latest challenge.”

Roberts looked back at Matilde, which was still closing with them, and smiled. “I’m not sure that’s much of a challenge after beating this ship, sir,” he shouted.

“A good officer,” Nelson observed.

“Yes, sir, he is,” Granger agreed. “I have been remiss in pressing his career along. I worry that I have fallen into that trap of appreciating his services aboard this ship such that I do not want to lose him.”

“It is an easy trap to fall into,” Nelson agreed. “I do not think you are guilty of that, though. I think he is just now at the level he needs to be at to take that next step. Maybe I can help him along.”

“We would both be most appreciative of any help you can provide, sir,” Granger said with genuine conviction.

“In the meantime, we have to see if we can add another Don frigate to our little fleet. If Preston had done his job last night, you wouldn’t have to do double-duty.”

“Yes, sir,” Granger said. Where was Preston? If Blanche were here, Matilde wouldn’t dare approach them. “Mr. Meurice, we will cast off our tow at once.”

“Aye aye sir,” Meurice said, and began to give orders to do just that.

“Mr. Clifton, beat to quarters. Clear for action,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” Clifton said. Once again, Belvidera was convulsed in chaos as her furniture and interior bulkheads were removed, and anything not essential to fighting was struck below. Some fifteen minutes later found Belvidera ready for battle yet again.

Granger saw Andrews come on deck, and summoned him over. “Mr. Andrews, our lads are asked to fight a second battle on the same day. Surely that is deserving of another tot of rum,” Granger said loudly.

“Aye aye sir,” Andrews said with his dour expression. The cry for “up spirits” went through the ship, and that got a rousing cheer from the hands.

“The men seem to be awake,” Nelson said with a grin.

“Rum energizes them, sir,” Granger joked. With another blast of grog in their bellies, Granger and Belvidera were ready to take on the Matilde. “Let us drop off a bit, Mr. Clifton. We will cross her bows and give her a good raking, then engage her with our larboard batteries.” Granger had enunciated their strategy as much for Nelson as for Clifton. They had the wind with them, so they should be able to inflict some punishment on Matilde before they slugged it out.

Belvidera turned about and headed west toward Matilde, clearly challenging her to battle. As they did, they sailed past Sabina. She was a beautiful frigate, one of the big ones the Dons and Frogs built. Now that it was daylight and Belvidera was almost next to her, the difference in their sizes was much more apparent. Taking such a large frigate in a single ship action was a notable achievement, one that would definitely make the Naval Gazette, and would probably get an article in The Times as well. Caroline would be proud, Granger thought, and then stopped that train of thought lest he become homesick right before going into battle.

The prize crew on Sabina cheered them as the two ships drew alongside each other, a cheer which was echoed on Belvidera herself. Granger smiled at how unnerving this must seem to the Spaniards on Belvidera. The ship that had just defeated Sabina was now inviting battle with yet another one of their ships, and the cheering crews would be a testimony to the high morale.

With both ships on converging courses, the gap between Matilde and Belvidera closed quickly. “Mr. Clifton, get us down to fighting sail,” Granger ordered. “In this case, since we don’t have our topsails, we’ll have to reef the mains.” That would keep them at least a little elevated. The threat with having the mainsails set in battle was that they’d catch fire from a flaming wad, or some other combustible. That was why ships usually fought under topsails only, but in this situation, they had no choice, since the main sails were all they could carry. Matilde was undamaged, though, so she didn’t have that constraint. Granger watched as she reduced her spread of sails to topsails only. Closer and closer they drew, until they were almost upon Matilde, when Granger gave the order to wear ship.

“Mr. Brookstone, you’ll have a target to larboard soon enough!” Granger shouted down to the gun deck.

“Aye aye sir,” he said. He came to the hatch and smiled up at Granger, his way of telling his captain he was ready.

Belvidera turned neatly to starboard, surprising the Matilde, which had expected her to range directly alongside. Granger walked over to the larboard side as the turn evolved, as slowly but surely Belvidera’s guns lined up with Matilde’s bow. “Fire as you bear,” Granger ordered. He stepped back with alacrity to avoid being deafened as the quarterdeck carronade next to him fired.

Granger watched with satisfaction as iron from Belvidera’s cannon slammed into Matilde. Splinters seemed to fly from her bow like so many wood chips. Granger watched proudly as his men poured two more broadsides into the hapless Spaniard while she desperately attempted to go about and get in her own licks. “Glorious!” Nelson exclaimed. “Glorious!”

Slowly Matilde came around to a parallel course. Granger stood there calmly with Nelson and Clifton as they watched her guns belch fire, and heard balls flying around them. More ropes parted, more blocks fell on the chain slings, and more balls slammed into the side, but nothing vital was hurt. More importantly, Belvidera’s crew was unmoved by the Matilde’s bombardment. Just as they’d done with Sabina, they poured a murderous fire into Matilde. In just fifteen minutes of action, Matilde turned away from Belvidera and sailed west.

“With your permission, sir,” Granger said to Nelson, “I would like to pursue her.” He was confident that if they could bring Matilde back under Belvidera’s guns for another fifteen minutes, she would strike as well.

“Signal Sabina to continue on a southerly course,” Nelson ordered, “Then you may pursue Matilde.”

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said, and turned to Clifton and Lockyer, rapping out his orders.

For the next half hour, they tacked on whatever sail they could, attempting to close with the Spaniard, but her rigging was largely intact, whereas Belvidera was laboring under a significant handicap. Just as Granger was about to call off his efforts, Matilde suddenly came about, as if once again inviting battle.

“Did she repair her damage, sir?” Clifton asked curiously.

“Unlikely. Masthead!” Granger shouted. “What’s beyond the Don?”

“Deck there!” the lookout called. “There are three ships beyond the Don!” The lookouts must have been so focused on the pursuit that they hadn’t looked farther on the horizon. “About five miles distant!”

“One of them could be the Blanche!” Nelson exclaimed. “That would make the odds three Dons to two of ours, and that ship is well knocked about already!” Nelson gestured at Matilde to indicate he was talking about her.

“I’m going aloft,” Granger said. “With your permission, sir, until we know what we are up against, I’d like to hold our position.”

Nelson looked at Granger as if he’d grown a third head, but then seemed to see the logic in his actions. “Very well. Heave to, Captain.”

“Mr. Clifton, heave to,” Granger ordered. “I will be aloft.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said. “Begging your pardon, sir, but the main mast would be safer. It’s more stable than the foremast.”

“I’m sure that’s good advice,” Granger said. “Thank you.” He strode to the shrouds, what was left of them, and climbed up the scarred mast, dodging holes in the shrouds as he went. It took him twice as long as it normally did to reach the main top.

“Over there, sir,” a seaman said. He pointed to the northwest. “I been seeing a fleeting sail in that direction too,” he said. “I’m not sure if it’s a sail, or my imagination.”

Granger trained his eyes on the three ships beyond Matilde, and his experienced eye identified them quite clearly. “Mr. Clifton,” Granger shouted from the tops. “Course northeast!” That was the course that would take them away from the Matilde.

“Aye aye sir!” he said. He’d let them wait for his news until he got back on deck.

“Now let’s see this will-o-the-wisp you’ve sighted, Crawford. You’re sure this isn’t some rum-induced hallucination?”

“That’s quite possible, sir,” the seaman said, grinning. Granger trained his glass to the windward and saw what Crawford was talking about.

“In any event, that is indeed a sail you’ve sighted,” Granger said. “Unless my eyes have gone bad, that ship is the Blanche.”

Crawford looked with more purpose. “I think you’re right, sir.”

“I’m so glad you agree,” Granger said, but jovially. Crawford swallowed nervously anyway. “Keep an eye on those ships and let me know what they do.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said.

Normally, Granger would have grabbed a backstay to slide down to deck quickly, but the rigging was shot up so badly, that wasn’t an option. Instead, Granger went back down the shrouds, going as quickly as he could. No matter how quickly he went, he knew it wouldn’t be fast enough for Nelson, who stood fuming on deck, wanting to know what they were up against. “Well?” he asked Granger.

“Sir, the three ships beyond Matilde are Dons,” Granger said. “There’s a sail on the horizon to windward, and I believe her to be Blanche.”

“She’s all but useless, then,” Nelson snapped. He bit back a negative comment about Preston. “What are the Dons?”

“I should have suspected that there’d be more of Sabina’s squadron, the same one we met up with when we transferred the Spanish Ambassador. There are two other frigates, and the Principe de Asturias.”

“The Principe de Asturias is a first rate!” Nelson exclaimed.

“Yes, sir,” Granger said. “She is rated for 112 guns. I would prefer not to engage her.”

Nelson smiled at him. “I think that having captured one frigate and all but captured a second one is enough fighting for one day. Let’s see if we can’t extricate ourselves from this situation.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said. Belvidera was heading to the northeast, with the Spaniards approaching her from the west-northwest. Sabina was lumbering along under her reefed mainsail, heading in a more southeasterly direction. “Mr. Lockyer, signal Sabina: Enemy in sight to the west! Three frigates and one ship of the line.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said.

They were retracing their steps and closing on Sabina quite quickly. Granger looked aft and could see the Spanish from the deck now. Matilde had turned from pursued into pursuer again and had clapped on sail to try and get close enough to Belvidera to cripple her. Granger smiled ruefully as he thought about that term. She was already all but crippled as it was. Granger walked to the taffrail and looked down at the Belvidera’s wake, trying to think of a way out of this latest dilemma.

Nelson joined him. “They are gaining on us. It does not appear that nightfall will come soon enough to save us.”

“Yes, sir,” Granger said, trying not to sound glum. Life in a prison, even a Spanish one, was staring him right in the face. The thought of that, of losing his freedom, his ship, and his men, was so overwhelming that Granger almost wretched.

He and Nelson pivoted and looked forward, both pairs of eyes focusing on Sabina. Granger studied the Belvidera’s masts, and her rigging, and then gauged the wind. “Mr. Clifton, I want every man who is able aloft working on the rigging. I need the topsails and the staysails operational within two hours.”

“Aye aye sir,” Clifton said, with only a slight hint of dubiousness in his voice. Whistles blew and the petty officers rousted the men aloft.

“Two hours, Granger?” Nelson asked.

“It is either that or a Spanish prison, sir,” Granger reasoned.

“And what of her?” Nelson asked, gesturing at Sabina. “She’ll never be able to outrun the Dons.”

Granger thought about that, and a plan emerged in his mind, one that gave them hope but was almost equally distasteful. “We could sacrifice Sabina to save Belvidera,” Granger suggested. “Sir,” he added hastily, the first time in memory he’d almost omitted the honorific, and a sure sign of how hard was his internal struggle.

“You think the Dons would go running off to recapture their own ship and leave us alone?”

“I think it is possible, especially if it is done correctly, sir,” Granger said.

“The decisions of command are not always easy, Granger,” Nelson said sagely.

“No sir,” Granger agreed.

“Close with Sabina,” Nelson ordered.

“Sir!” Clifton called, interrupting their conversation. “Sabina’s gone about again. She’s back on a southerly course!”

Granger smiled, not because of the situation, but because of Roberts’ action. “I think, sir, that Mr. Roberts has come to the same conclusion we have, and has made the decision for us, as it were.”

“An excellent officer, as I have said,” Nelson said.

“Sir, boat’s putting off from Sabina!” Villiers called.

Granger turned his glass to the boat and saw it set its lugsail and move to intercept Belvidera. It looked as if there were about 20 men in it, with Gatling sitting in the sternsheets. Granger was determined that Roberts’ sacrifice would not be in vain.

“Shake out the reefs in the mains,” Granger ordered, even as he wondered if her masts could handle the strain. There was nothing else to do. They needed the extra speed. He watched as the sails were loosed, and his eyes gauged the additional strain on the masts, and he determined that they would hold.

With her extra turn of speed, Belvidera seemed to leap forward. Granger heard a ‘clunk’ as the Sabina’s boat came alongside. “Once those men are aboard,” Granger ordered, “you may cast the boat off.”

“Aye aye sir,” Clifton said. Gatling appeared in front of him.

“Welcome back, Mr. Gatling,” Granger said affably.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, but with a dour expression. “Mr. Roberts ordered me to return to the ship.”

“Sir, look at Sabina!” Clifton interrupted. Granger turned to see Sabina raising her colors: the British ensign over the Spanish flag. Not only that, but Roberts had run the flags up on both her flagstaff and her mainmast. If the grumbling of the Spanish officers on Belvidera’s quarterdeck was any indication, that would inflame the Spanish squadron.

“Now tell us what Mr. Roberts said,” Nelson prompted Gatling.

“He told me he was going to sail south to try and distract the Dons from attacking Belvidera, sir,” Gatling said. “He said to tell you, sir, that unless you signal otherwise, that is his plan. He hopes to escape, and if he does, he plans to sail Sabina to Gibraltar.”

“That is quite brave of him,” Nelson said solemnly.

“Yes, sir,” Gatling said unable to hide his irritation now.

“And why are you and twenty men back with us?” Granger asked.

“Mr. Roberts sent back all the hands that were French, sir,” Gatling said. Belvidera had acquired Granger’s prior crew from the Intrepid, and of those men, many were Frenchmen who had volunteered for duty aboard Granger’s ship after his return from Toulon. “He was worried that if they were captured, they might be handed back to the Frogs.” That was entirely possible, and the French would consider these renegade seamen to be traitors, and guillotine them without hesitation. It was typical Roberts, to show concern for those who served under him.

“And what of you?” Granger asked.

“I wanted to stay, sir, but Mr. Roberts insisted that you needed me here,” Gatling said.

“And just as with his other decisions, he is right in that one as well,” Granger said soothingly. “You will assist me as we re-rig this ship.”

“Aye aye sir,” Gatling said, with a grin that masked his melancholy mood.