HMS Belvidera - 36. Chapter 36

June, 1796

“How is he?” Granger asked as he made his way through the sick bay to see Lieutenant Robey.

“It’s too soon to tell, sir,” Jackson said. “I’ve removed the splinter, and probed as much as I dared. I got all the pieces of wood out that I could see, but it’s inevitable that there will be a few shards missing.”

“I’m sure you did excellent work, Doctor,” Granger said sincerely.

“Thank you sir. Now we just have to wait and see if Mr. Robey’s body can fight the ill humors that have invaded it. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“I know I can count on you,” Granger told him reassuringly.

“Ten of the other men should heal, while I am concerned the remaining three will not make it. I will keep you apprised, sir,” Jackson said sadly.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Granger said. He found Robey in a corner of the sick bay, looking wan and weak. “You fought them off, James,” he said.

“Thank you, sir. I fear I am done for.”

“You have the best doctor in the fleet, and he does not share your pessimism, nor do I,” Granger said. He wasn’t sure if he believed his own words. Robey looked to be in a poor way. “You must marshal your strength, fight to beat this wound.”

“I’ll try, sir,” Robey said.

“Is there anything I can do for you? Can I move you to better quarters?” Robey looked at him nervously. “You may share my cabin if you like.”

“I’d like that, sir,” he said. “Would it be alright if Mr. Roberts called on me?”

“I’m not sure anything could stop that,” Granger said, grinning. “I’ll have Winkler rig a space for you off the quarter gallery. The breeze and light are nice there. They will help you recover.”

“Thank you, sir,” Robey said sincerely. Granger gave him an affectionate kiss on the forehead, and gave Jackson orders for his move, then went back up on deck to contemplate his next move.

They’d finally caught a slight breeze, enough to propel them away from the gruesome sight of their victory and to bring some welcome coolness to the ship. As Granger paced, he heard the sounds of hammers against wood as the carpenter and his mates worked furiously to patch up the holes from the battle and get Belvidera into fighting trim again. Granger walked back to the taffrail and looked at the captured xebec which wallowed along happily in their wake, securely under tow.

He needed to know what the situation was in Oran, and it would be best to do that before he arrived. He looked toward shore and noted they were still quite close. A new idea hatched in his mine. “Mr. Carslake, set course due north, away from the land,” he ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” said the redoubtable Carslake. That didn’t stop him from wondering why they were heading away from their objective.

Granger continued to pace, working out the details of his idea, until he saw Roberts come up on the quarterdeck and look around confused at their new sailing direction. “How is he, Mr. Roberts?”

Roberts strode up to him, a sad look on his face. “We have moved him, sir, but it wasn’t a pleasant process. He looks to be in a bad way.”

“I have had shipmates that looked to be worse off than he does, and Dr. Jackson has saved them. We must be optimistic and encourage him.”

“Yes sir,” said Roberts dubiously. “We’re sailing away?”

“Walk with me,” Granger ordered. “We are sailing away from Arab telescopes. People on the shore will have seen our victory, and will assume that we are well-satisfied with ourselves and our prize.”

“You want them to think we’re retreating, sir?” Roberts asked.

“I do. Then as soon as it gets dark, I intend to take the xebec, along with Carter, Somers, and a few others, and sail into Oran tomorrow morning.”

“Let me go, sir,” Roberts said, almost pleaded.

“No. I need you here to get the ship back in order and to keep Mr. Robey’s spirits up, plus I want to see the defenses of this town first hand. We will rendezvous off the coast tomorrow afternoon, and then tomorrow night we will attack the fort.”

“I understand, sir.”

“We’ll need about 25 men on the xebec, just in case we run into trouble. I’ll go put together a list of crewmen, and then we’ll detail them off. They can transfer over now and see if they can remove some of the stench.” Granger grimaced as he said that. Arab boats were even dirtier than Spanish ones, evidently.

Belvidera sailed parallel to the coast, out of sight of land, until she was directly offshore of Oran. As night fell, Granger transferred to the xebec to join the group of men already there, laboring to make the xebec more habitable. The xebec was a small craft, but he noticed she seemed significantly more pleasant after a day’s worth of work cleaning her out. It would be a shame to destroy her as he was contemplating: she was a lovely craft. She had two large and one small lateen sails, and was equipped with six small, four-pound cannon along her sides in addition to a twelve-pounder mounted forward. Xebecs were reputed to be the fastest and most maneuverable ships in the Mediterranean, although Granger didn’t think she’d hold up to much heavy weather, what with her low freeboard. She was all of 25 feet long, with a beam of eight feet, and her strangest feature was her stern, which extended out unsupported over the water.

The gig pulled up to the xebec and Granger climbed aboard her handily. “You may cast off and square away, Mr. Estabrook,” Granger said to the Master’s Mate he’d chosen to come with him. Estabrook was an older man, probably close to 40 years old; he looked grizzled and weather-beaten.

“Aye aye sir,” he said.

“Carter, as soon as it is dark, it will be your job to guide us in shore,” Granger said.

“Aye aye sir,” came the inevitable response.

“Then I will go below and see how a xebec captain lives,” Granger joked. He went down into the small cabin to find Winkler scowling as he got things organized to his satisfaction.

“Not much room here, sir,” he groused.

“You’ve become spoiled, Winkler.”

“As you say sir,” Winkler agreed, sort of. “There’s only this cabin.”

“Inform Captain Somers that I will share it with him,” Granger said. He tried not to get an erection thinking about that, about how exciting it would be later on to be alone and naked with Somers in such tight quarters.

“I’ll do that, sir,” Winkler said.

Granger headed back up on deck to get used to his new command and how she sailed. They edged toward the shore, not wanting to get too close, while Granger put her through some intricate maneuvers to test the limits of her handling.

“She’s a lovely craft, sir, begging your pardon,” Estabrook said.

“She is. I don’t fancy weathering a storm in her, though,” Granger observed.

“That’s why they mostly stick close to shore, sir,” Carter observed. “When you command a merchant ship in these waters, it’s best to stay as far out to sea as possible.”

“Indeed,” Granger agreed. He went below for the night and found Somers waiting for him. He spent the rest of the night with the randy marine, alternately penetrating and being penetrated by him. Granger smiled as he contemplated that the captain of one of His Majesty’s ships at sea rarely got much rest, but sometimes that was just fine.

“Begging your pardon, sir, but we should probably sail by the port like we was heading to Algiers. We’d be expected to peek in, but not stop,” Carter said.

“What course do you recommend?” Granger asked. Carter outlined their arrival, transit, and then exit from Oran in a very organized manner. “Very well. Mr. Estabrook, make sure you understand that plan.”

“I understand, sir,” Estabrook said, mildly irritated at having something as easy as steering a course considered a challenge.

“Excellent. Then you have charge of the ship. Carter and I will be in the main top spying.” The other two chuckled at his carefree attitude. That attitude was enhanced by their need to dress informally, lest prying telescopes from the shore sight them in distinctly European or naval attire. Granger thought about how discipline was usually easier on smaller ships. Even Belvidera, where teamwork was part of the culture, had a much more stratified system than what naturally evolved on a small ship like the xebec. “Pass the word for Captain Somers and have him join us.”

“Aye aye sir.”

Granger and Carter climbed up to the main top, such as it was. There was just room up there for the two of them and Somers, when he arrived. Granger tried not to notice how handsome Somers looked in just trousers and a shirt that was almost open to his waist. Instead, he watched the port come into view. “Hoist the Algerian flag!” Granger called down to Estabrook, who complied quickly.

“There’s a strong fort up there on the mountain,” Carter said. “Fort Santa Cruz. I’m not sure how damaged it is, but if those guns are well-manned, they can make life difficult for any force attacking the harbor. The other forts are down lower, dominating the harbor roads.”

“What’s that rock structure?” Somers asked.

“That’s their version of a mole, sir,” Carter answered. “They’ve been dumping rocks out there for years.”

“Doesn’t look like a mole,” Somers said. He was right. It looked like individual mounds of rocks, as if they’d been dumped there over the years without being spread out into a uniform causeway. “They look like little islands.”

“Ships at anchor, sir,” Carter noted. “That one closest to the shore, that’s the Caroline, I think. They must not have offloaded too many of her stores, she’s still low in the water.”

“Probably take them off and sell them elsewhere,” Somers said.

“That’s probably true, sir. The Bey of Oran likes his finery. He’s got a ruby the size of my fist, from what I hear, and a whole room full of gold. He’d as soon sell the supplies elsewhere and get a load of cash for it.”

“What are those other ships?” Somers asked.

“Looks like there are two other merchant brigs, and one bigger ship,” Granger said. The bigger ship was actually quite big, a large merchant vessel.

“I don’t know the smaller craft, but that big one is a Frog trader. I’ve seen her lots of times. Etoile, they call her, short for Star of the South,” Carter observed. “She used to carry a good number of guns, to ward off ships like this one.”

“The Mediterranean version of an East Indiaman,” Granger observed. “She looks pretty well laden too.” In fact, only the two other brigs rode high to show they were almost empty.

“Those small craft over there, those are the Bey’s fleet of xebecs. What’s left of them anyway, sir,” Carter said smiling. There were about 50 xebecs moored together.

“Will this wind hold?” Granger asked.

“Can’t say, sir, but it’s a good possibility, sir,” Carter answered. Granger felt that same adrenaline rush, the one he got when an idea came to him.

“Captain Somers, do you think you could fashion one of those lumps of rock into a crude fort, one to contain the mortars we brought with us?” Granger asked.

Somers looked at him surprised, and then smiled. He took the scope and scouted the mole carefully, taking in all of the possibilities. “I believe I can, sir. I’d choose that one, the third mound from the shore. It’s set back, so we couldn’t be flanked. That means we only have to worry about our forward defenses, assuming Belvidera has our back.”

“She will,” Granger said smiling. “Mr. Carter, I’ll want you to take this xebec and a party in to set those other xebecs on fire. If you want to try and save this boat, you may, but wreaking havoc on that force will be your top priority.”

“Yes sir,” Carter said. He was unable to hide his smile at being given such an opportunity to prove his worth, to command an expedition that was by all rights the domain of a lieutenant.

“Then I think we may return to deck and rejoin Belvidera as quickly as we can. We have much work to do. I will give you gentlemen time to work out your plans. Captain, when planning to construct your fort, be mindful of the range of the guns of Fort Santa Cruz.”

“Yes sir,” Somers said. They descended the mast and took in the view from the deck, studying the port and its inhabitants until they were out of range.

They could see the lights of the town flickering in the distance as Belvidera lay hove to, disgorging her contingents, her warriors. In the end, the plans had changed, and Carter was relegated to taking Belvidera’s launch off on his expedition, while Somers was using the xebec to ship his marines, some seamen to help configure the fort, and the weapons and stores they’d need. Granger stood against the rail, gazing down into the waist at his depleted crew. Belvidera was losing half her compliment, so if things went wrong, he’d be hard-pressed to fight the ship with those who were left.

“We’re ready to go, sir,” Carter said.

“Good luck. Be careful, but go quickly,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” he said cheerfully. Then he was gone, and work shifted to transferring men into the xebec. Somers was already over on his ‘island’, posting guards and figuring out where to dig and build. An hour after Carter left, the xebec cast off and sailed toward Somers’ island.

Granger looked about his quarterdeck and the ship in general, and although it was dark and he could see nothing, he felt as if the ship were empty. The French ship in harbor continued to bother him, and certainly explained the attack on the Caroline. The French must be making a concerted effort to build an ally here among the Oranians. The Spanish had left the port only recently, so it was a relatively new state, part of the ramshackle Ottoman Empire. It made sense that the French would attempt to develop a friend here. It also made sense that the others would turn a blind eye. Typical pirates, Granger though disgustedly. The Algerian Dey would claim to be England’s nominal ally, while his vassal, the Bey of Oran, would cozy up to the French. And both would claim ignorance about the activities of the other.

Granger wanted to pace his deck, to let the fatigue of walking back and forth calm his nerves, but if he did that, everyone would know that he was just doing it because he was nervous. He stood there, feeling as if he was trapped in a cage, until he decided that the hands aboard would already know that he was nervous about having half of their number off ship. Even Nelson or Jervis would be nervous at such a deployment. There was nothing to be gained by such stoic self-sacrifice. Granger began to walk.

It seemed as if a long time had elapsed, so long Granger had almost given up on pacing and gone below to see if he might not rest for a little bit, when the xebec re-appeared, momentarily alarming all those on board. Roberts came aboard, looking very focused. Granger had relented and given him nominal command of this part of the expedition, deploying men to build the fort, but he sensed that Roberts was still distracted with Robey’s poor condition, and hadn’t wanted him out of Belvidera for too extended a period of time.

“Captain Somers is working fast, sir,” Roberts said, reporting in. “He’s got the mortars in place, and is working on building the walls to protect them. I gave him permission to offload three of the xebec’s guns to give him something to train against the ships in harbor and against any ships that attack him.”

“You did well,” Granger said. “I’d like to go over there and inspect the fort at dawn.”

“Sir, it won’t be safe there,” Roberts argued, once again worrying about his Captain, who seemed bound and determined to put himself in harm’s way.

“Mr. Roberts, A King’s officer does not shy away from danger,” Granger replied curtly, cutting off any further annoying but well-intentioned arguments.

“Yes sir,” he said reluctantly.

“Deck there! Looks like fire at the south end of the port!” Granger rushed to the forward shrouds and climbed up slightly. He peered through his glass at the darkness that was the harbor, his lithe body leaning away from the ship while he held on to the ropes to steady himself. Surely the masthead lookout was wrong. All Granger saw was the flickering of lights. Then he saw a ‘light’ in the harbor get bigger, and bigger, and bigger still, expanding until it was a full-blown blaze.

“Looks like we caught them unawares, sir,” Roberts said from the deck. Evidently his fear of heights precluded him from ascending even the 20 feet off the deck to hang in the shrouds like Granger.

“It does indeed,” Granger agreed. The xebecs had been moored closely together, with good reason. They had sighted no enemy, and were not in a declared war, in any event. There was reason for them to be complacent. That would cost them, Granger though wryly. With ships packed that closely and a seaward breeze, fire ships were the best weapon of choice. “Make sure the lookouts stay alert. I don’t want a pirate boarding us in our weakened state, but I also don’t want to fire on our returning party.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Roberts replied automatically. “Should I light the lantern at the main yard?”

“Yes, see to that if you will,” Granger ordered. That would guide Carter and his boat back to Belvidera. Granger stayed there, hanging precariously away from the side of the ship, while he watched the inferno Carter had started under his orders. He was so entranced by the magnificent fire that he was somewhat surprised when the hail came from Belvidera and was acknowledged by Carter. Granger dropped back down to the deck and resumed his place on the quarterdeck to await Carter.

Carter ambled up to him, a smile plastered on his face. “Report, Mr. Carter,” Granger ordered.

“Sir, there was only an anchor watch on the xebecs. We managed to board three of them and fire them without drawing attention to ourselves. As soon as the flames shot up, we were able to escape. I don’t think they saw us.”

“What are the chances they’ll think the xebecs just caught fire?” Granger asked.

“I’m not sure about that, sir, but it will hopefully delay them from giving the alarm,” Carter said, finally getting where Granger was coming from. They didn’t want any cannon balls hampering Somers’ efforts. “You did very well Carter.”

“Thank you sir. My men performed superbly.”

“That’s good of you to say, Carter,” Granger said, smiling. It was one of the traits of a good officer to make sure subordinates got credit for their achievements. It was good to see Carter exhibiting such good leadership skills. “I’m heading over to the fort. You may use my desk to complete your report while I’m gone, if you like.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said. Granger went below to change into his second-best uniform and to give Winkler instructions to make sure Carter was fed while he worked at Granger’s desk. Then he went back up on deck.

“Call away my gig,” he ordered Roberts. It was still pitch dark, the sliver of a moon having long since set, but Granger was anxious to go over to the fort. “If I should fall, make sure that you capture those merchants in the harbor.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Roberts said. Granger looked at the sky, as if seeking divine inspiration, then nodded to Roberts as he left the ship and descended into his gig.

The men rowed until they were away from Belvidera’s lee, and then set the lugsail. It didn’t take them long to reach the fort on Somers’ Island. Granger hadn’t planned to inspect the structure or the men, so his arrival was a surprise to everyone. They were working in the darkness with the light of only shielded lanterns, but it was enough for Granger to note the grins and nudges from the laboring men as soon as they saw him, and was glad that he came.

“Welcome, sir,” Somers said cheerfully. “We’re almost ready.”

“That is good timing,” Granger observed, “Since it appears dawn is almost upon us.” Somers seemed to look around for the first time, and just now noticed that the sky was slightly lighter.

“Yes sir,” Somers said. “Will you come this way, sir? We’ve made an observation area. It’s surrounded by rocks, so you should be safe.”

“I am not a doll, Captain,” Granger said curtly, getting irritated with all of these officers who tried to nursemaid him.

“A fact I am personally well aware of, sir,” Somers whispered in his ear. Granger couldn’t help smiling back at him. “We’ve rigged a battery in front to ward off any attacks.” With only a little light from the lanterns, Granger could see a battery shaped like a semi-circle, well shielded by rocks. “If we had more time, I’d have tried to put a roof on it.”

“To deflect their mortars?” Granger asked.

“Yes sir,” Somers said. “Our mortars, on the other hand, are well shielded. It will take a really lucky shot to dislodge one of them.”

“Let us hope then, that luck is not with our barbarian ‘friends’.”

“Yes, sir,” Somers said. “If you want to evacuate most of the seaman, their work here is done.”

Granger got another idea, one so obvious that he was irritated he hadn’t thought of it before. He looked around frantically for a reliable officer and saw Clifton there, supervising the men as they finished up their work. “Mr. Clifton!”

“Sir?”

“You’ll take my gig and as many of the seamen as you can cram into it and go board that ship over there,” Granger said, pointing to the French merchant. “I want you to seize her and the Caroline and take them out of the harbor. You may allow the prisoners to escape.”

“Aye aye sir,” Clifton said. Granger smiled inwardly at the stoic way that Clifton hid his excitement. He decided to taunt the young man a bit.

“Captain Somers, now that I think about it, shouldn’t that kind of a command belong to a lieutenant?” Somers picked up on his tone of voice and played along.

“I think you’re right sir,” Somers said. “It would be wholly inappropriate for a midshipman to lead the mission.” Granger almost laughed as he saw the sadness and disappointment penetrate Clifton’s stoic defenses.

“Then I will have to alter things,” Granger said. “Mr. Clifton, while Mr. Robey is convalescing, you are hereby promoted to acting lieutenant. You will assume the duties of Belvidera’s third lieutenant after you have returned from this mission.”

Clifton only stared at him blankly for a moment, then his face broke into a broad grin. “Thank you, sir.”

“You have earned it. Now be off with you. Go make us all richer, and singe the sultan’s beard.”

“Aye aye sir,” Clifton said, as he hastily loaded all the men he could into the gig.

It was light enough now to see the faces of the men as the boat shoved off and rowed around Somers’ Island. “I would have thought they’d have a guard boat out,” Granger observed to Somers.

“We took precautions for that, sir, but they are so complacent and secure, they obviously didn’t see the need,” Somers said. Slowly the light brightened, until the sun came into view on the horizon. “They don’t seem to notice that we’re here.”

“I suspect that will change soon enough,” Granger said, gesturing to the French ship. The gig was almost to her, when Granger heard her hail it from across the water. “Be ready to fire the moment the Arabs figure out we’re here.”

Granger didn’t hear Somers acknowledge his orders, so enraptured was he by the sight of the gig latching on to the French ship. Then he watched as his men surged up the sides and onto the deck. Granger couldn’t see what must have been a brief scuffle on her deck, but it was over soon enough. Still no sign from the Arabs that they’d noticed anything happening at all.

Granger heard a loud gun clap and saw some smoke from a battery near town. “Mark that battery, Captain,” Granger said to Somers. He watched the shot soar over them and splash a full cable’s length short of Belvidera. They’d finally sighted her anyway. What must they be thinking now as this ship that had so marauded them lay hove to, just out of their range, Granger mused. He turned back to the port and saw the gig shove off and head toward the Caroline. Meanwhile, men swarmed up the masts of the Frenchman, what was her name again? The Etoile. They swarmed up her masts and began to make sail.

“Clifton is certainly moving quickly, sir,” Somers observed.

“He is,” Granger said. He was quite proud of the officer Clifton was becoming. “I think you may commence firing. Let’s show them they have an even bigger problem than Mr. Clifton.”

“Aye aye sir,” Somers said, smiling as he readied his first shot. Granger had seen mortars in action many times, but the loading process, with the need to measure the charge and the fuse just right, still seemed foreign to him. Somers lit the first fuse, and then his men dropped the shell into the mortar. Somers quickly pulled the trigger, and with more of a “whoosh” than “bang”, the mortar fired. Granger watched the shot arc up, then descend until it landed in the town. There was a slight delay before it exploded.

“That shot was over, and your fuse was a little long,” Granger observed.

“We’ll correct that now, sir,” Somers said philosophically. Now there was a different kind of sound, the sound of some sort of trumpet as the garrison was called to arms. The Arabs finally seemed to realize they were under attack.

Somers had managed to set up five mortars. After that first shot, he removed himself from the actual mechanics of firing the beasts and focused on directing their aim. Granger watched him and found himself totally impressed with Somers’ ability to organize and direct the men under his command. He encouraged and prodded them, while shell after shell fell on the town. They’d targeted the forts on the waterfront, but they would miss just as often as they hit, and those other shots landed in the town. Granger saw a different color of smoke, the color of fire. A wooden town like Oran could very well be burnt to the ground by an attack like this. Meanwhile, fire from the Arab forts usually went far wide of their island fortress, but even those shots that hit them plowed harmlessly into the rock walls Somers had built.

Granger was contemplating that his real place in this action was back on board the ship, but he didn’t want to go back. It was much more interesting and exciting to be here. “There goes the Caroline, sir,” Somers said, pointing toward the shore where Caroline’s canvas began to appear. Clifton was doing a masterful job of bringing those ships out of port. “What about the other two ships?”

“The Arabs will give them to us when we leave,” Granger said confidently.

“You think they’ll just hand them over, sir?” Somers asked, amazed.

“I do,” Granger replied.

“Boat approaching, sir,” shouted one of the seaman who’d been left behind when Clifton went off to capture the merchants. “Flying a flag of truce.”

“Should we cease firing, sir?” Somers asked.

“No, keep it up. No good will come of giving them time to get their defenses in order,” Granger said. “Just make sure not to hit that boat.” He turned his glass to the boat that was approaching and studied the imposing figure in the back. The man was older, and dressed quite elaborately. Granger had the feeling this wasn’t the Bey, but was probably his adjutant. They waited until the Arab’s boat grounded and he disembarked before Granger allowed Somers to cease firing. “Use this time to plan your next targets. I want one gun trained on that palace, and another on the mosque.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Somers said. The marines led two men into his presence. Granger stared at the grizzled old Arab but did nothing. He was not familiar with their customs, but he wasn’t about to do something to show weakness.

“His Eminence represents the Bey of Oran,” the other man with them said. Clearly he was the interpreter.

“Tell him I am glad that he does,” Granger said. The man rattled off some barbaric sounds, and the other man responded angrily in the same language.

“Why do you attack us? We are not at war,” the interpreter said.

“You insult my intelligence, sir,” Granger said, not just acting offended. “One of His Britannic Majesty’s merchant vessels was just rescued from this port after having been captured by your forces. That was an act of war.”

The interpreter relayed that to the old man, and he started chattering back. “He says the ship was smuggling.”

“He is wrong, but I am not going to argue about such ridiculous points. Tell him that he has two choices: Agree to my demands, or watch his whole town burn down around his ears.” Granger watched the old Arab react with outrage when he told them that.

“He says he has come here to negotiate your surrender, not his,” the translator said. Granger stared at them blankly, and then laughed. Somers joined him, both of them laughing uproariously at the old Arab man. He glared back at them, his eyes full of hatred, both at their disrespect and at their answer. The Bey had tried his first shot, and his bluff had failed.