Master and Commander - 15. Chapter 15

August 1794

“She's a rather small ship to be sailing halfway around the world,” Bertie said as he toured Intrepid with Granger.

“She is quite seaworthy,” Granger said, a bit too defensively.

“I am assuming that we will meet again, but with a war, and these uncertain times, it is possible that we will not,” Bertie said, then held up his hand to stop Granger from objecting. “You know that you're my favorite brother. Freddie and I could never quite get along. He's not a bad sort, well, that's not true. Actually he is. I bear him no ill will, but I bear him no love either.”

“You're my favorite brother too, even though you cause me endless problems. Your charm inevitably makes me forgive you,” Granger said, with a certain amount of love in his voice.

“Tell Mother and Father that I think of them often, and I love them very much,” he said.

“I will,” Granger said. And then, after one final embrace, Bertie descended over the side. Granger felt relieved, happy to be back in this venue that he understood, surrounded by people that he could rely on.

“Lieutenant Humphreys, have we stowed all our water and stores?” Granger asked, grinning at him. He usually called him “Mr. Humphreys”, but Fellowes had managed to convene Howard and Flagg yesterday, before the reception, to conduct a formal examination, and Humphreys had passed with flying colors. Carslake had passed as well, which put Intrepid up to a compliment of one lieutenant too many, but Granger figured he'd argue with the Admiralty about that when they got back to London.

“Yes sir,” he said, grinning back.

“Everyone is aboard? We're ready for sea?” Granger asked playfully. They actually had a larger crew than when they'd left London, having gotten some men from among the prisoners on Emeraude. Like most ships, she carried a varied polyglot of races and nationalities in her ship's company. The foreigners, and a few of the Frenchmen, had volunteered to join Intrepid, and Granger had managed to spirit them aboard before the admiral intervened and spread them among his ships.

“Yes sir,” Humphreys said.

“Mr. Fitzwilliam, signal Intrepid to Flag. Request permission to proceed,” Granger said. “Mr. Carslake, I'll have the anchor hove short if you please.” It took a good fifteen minutes to get an acknowledgment from Centurion, which made Granger chuckle to himself. He must have awakened the admiral, another benefit of leaving so early. “Take us out Mr. Humphreys,” Granger said, letting Humphreys handle the ship. It would be a good opportunity to see how he maneuvered her in tight quarters.

Granger pretended that he wasn't standing over Humphreys' shoulder by examining the new mizzenmast they'd managed to acquire and install. Granger knew that it was Bertie who had slapped the dockyard into shape, and this beautiful teak spar was the result. He kept avoiding Humphreys to give him his space, but in the end, he had nothing to fear. Humphreys had the feel of the ship, and guided her smoothly out of Madras. Granger found himself looking back at the huge city feeling relief at being at sea again. He'd had a fun time, gotten some well-earned prize money for his men, and had a nice visit with Bertie, but he somehow felt dirty. Maybe it was the nearness to commerce, he thought playfully, just to sound like his aristocratic father.

“What course sir?” Humphreys asked, jarring Granger from his daydreams.

“South-southwest,” Granger said. “We'll start our search for Rattlesnake in the Maldives.” That was the closest outcropping of islands and seemed a likely place for her to be if she was damaged. There were numerous atolls there where a ship could repair herself. “I'll be below if you need me.”

Granger headed down to his cabin and immediately went to check on Calvert. He'd had to throw a virtual tantrum to keep them from transferring Calvert ashore at Madras. It was only Doctor Jackson's insistence that had decided the matter. Granger suspected that Wilcox was behind it, just to irritate Granger. He didn't know how close to home he'd hit with that try.

“So we're at sea?” Calvert asked unnecessarily.

“No, we're flying,” Granger answered sarcastically. “How are you?”

“I feel a little better every day. It's just not fast enough. I want to be up and about,” he said.

“Well your little trip up on deck in Madras re-opened your wound and set you back, so maybe now you'll do as Doctor Jackson orders and focus on recuperating,” Granger said, unable to hide his irritation.

“I'm sorry,” Calvert said, melting Granger's anger as fast as ice would melt in this heat. “I traveled all this way; it seems I should get to see the place.”

“Well, you saw it, so no more nonsense.”

“You seem to be very interested in me healing up as fast as possible,” Calvert said with a twinkle in his eye. “Is Humphreys not a good first lieutenant?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I think he's the best first lieutenant I've ever had,” Granger said, teasing him. “I'm thinking of less professional reasons for you to get healthy.”

Calvert chuckled. “I'll keep that in mind. That should motivate me.”

“Look at this chart with me.” He wanted to keep Calvert focused on his duty and not his wound. “Here's where we parted with Rattlesnake.” Granger pointed at a spot midway between the Maldives, the Seychelles, and the Chagos Islands. “If Rattlesnake weren't in trouble, she should have made Madras by now, so we have to assume she's in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” Calvert asked. “Once we captured Emeraude, there shouldn't be anything in the Indian Ocean that can match her.”

“We must assume that something did. Maybe it was a French ship, maybe she struck a reef, who knows? But if she had a problem, where would she go?”

Calvert studied the map with him. “If it were me, I'd head to the Maldives and find a place to repair. They're Dutch, which makes them allies.”

“That's the same conclusion I came to. We're on course for them now. Unfortunately, it looks to be a large smattering of atolls, which means we're hunting for a needle in a haystack.”

September 1794

For three weeks they'd plowed around the Indian Ocean looking for Rattlesnake. Granger was in a foul mood as he paced his quarterdeck. He didn't like to fail; failure wasn't a word in his vocabulary. And it wasn't just that. He really didn't like to fail when it was Wilcox who was his commanding admiral. He'd make the most of Granger's dithering about, wasting time and resources better spent elsewhere.

He knew Bertie and Lord Hobart would make sure he stayed on the good side of John Company, but Wilcox would make the most of Granger’s inability to locate Rattlesnake. He'd point to that as proof that Granger had been promoted too quickly, and that he wasn't fit to command his own ship, much less one as beautiful as Intrepid. But what was Granger missing? Where hadn't he looked?

He had precious little to go on. Rattlesnake had left to investigate a strange sail, but what kind of sail? And what kind of ship could overpower a 32 gun frigate? A ship of the line? If there was a French ship of the line in the Indian Ocean, he needed to let Wilcox know immediately. But if it was a ship of the line, Rattlesnake could have easily outrun her. No, there had to be some sort of ruse employed, a trick to get Rattlesnake in her clutches. Assuming Rattlesnake had been captured at all.

“Sail ho!” Granger looked up to the foretop. “Deck there, sail ho off the starboard bow!”

“Mr. Humphreys, Mr. Fitzwilliam! I need your sharp eyes aloft,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” Humphreys said, and hurried forward to climb to the foretop with Fitzwilliam in tow.

“Weather looks to pick up a bit,” Barney said. Granger just nodded. Barney was an interesting sort. He'd fit into Intrepid as if he'd been meant to be there, and he'd brought with him an extensive knowledge of the Indian Ocean. Granger found out that he'd also served in the Caribbean. Even more impressive was his instinctive ability to divine the weather. If he said they were in for a squall, they were in for a squall.

Granger stood on the deck impatiently waiting for Humphreys and Fitzwilliam. Luckily for them they took the backstay back down and didn't crawl down the shrouds like lubbers. “Well?” Granger demanded.

“It's not Rattlesnake,” Humphreys said. Granger bit back the sarcastic retort that was on the tip of his tongue. “Looks to be an Indiaman.”

“Hand me that glass,” Barney demanded. He studied the sails, now visible from the deck. “I think I know that ship sir.”

“Indeed Mr. Barney? And what are we up against?”

“She's the Bon Frère a former Dutch Indiaman that's been converted into a privateer. I seen her in the Seychelles before the war. Don't close with her, she'll blow us out of the water.”

“Explain that,” Granger ordered. An Indiaman could carry powerful armament if she was devoid of cargo, over fifty guns, more than a match for anything but a ship of the line.

“She's armed with carronades, 32-pounders sir. She's got 25 of those bastards a side,” Barney said. “I'll bet she flies a Dutchman's flag to try and lure us in.”

“If she did that to Rattlesnake, she'd make short work even of her,” Granger said.

“Aye she would,” Barney said. “What will you do sir?”

“Stand off and pound her into submission. She's only got an advantage if she gets us close in. Our long twelves have twice the range of her carronades,” Granger said matter-of-factly. “Mr. Humphreys, beat to quarters and clear for action.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said. Within seconds the drum began to beat “Hearts of Oak,” the call to quarters. The men struck down everything that could become a projectile. Nets were strung over their heads to prevent spars from falling on top of them, the guns were cast off and charges brought up from the magazine, and all of this was achieved in less than ten minutes.

“What's all the hubbub sir?” Calvert asked, standing next to him. He was much stronger now, but still not well enough to return to duty. Still, he'd put on his full uniform.

“Welcome Mr. Calvert!” Granger said. “You decided to join us for our battle?”

“Battle?” Granger gave him the glass.

Now they had a plausible explanation for what happened to Rattlesnake. She must have swooped down on the Bon Frère thinking she was a rich prize. As soon as she got close enough, Bon Frère would have unleashed those 25 carronades. Such a tidal wave of iron would have set her on her heels after the first broadside.

It was blessed good luck that Barney knew this ship, otherwise Granger would have done exactly what Rattlesnake probably did. This time, things would be different. This time, she'd have to fight at long range. Granger watched as the two ships neared, and then Bon Frère did what must be her normal trick. She turned to flee. The wind was from the southeast, and since Intrepid was to the northeast of Bon Frère, that put the wind beam on to both ships. There was no way she could escape Intrepid, nor did she want to.

“Raise the colors Mr. Humphreys,” Granger said.

“Aye aye sir,” Humphreys said, then delegated the task to Fitzwilliam as a good first lieutenant should.

“She's showing Dutch colors sir,” Fitzwilliam said. Just like Barney suspected.

“Mr. Fleming, we're going to make a slow approach. We'll have some target practice with the bow chaser!” That's what he would have done in any event. “You may commence firing when you think we're in range.” Granger turned to the assembled officers on the deck. “Gentlemen, if I should fall, you must make sure you stay at long cannon shot, beyond the range of her carronades.”

“Aye aye sir,” they all mumbled. It was really nice to see how upset they were at the mention of him being wounded or dying.

“You've done such a good job of filling my shoes, I wonder if I'll have a job when I get better,” Calvert said to Humphreys.

“I had a very good teacher sir,” Humphreys said, looking at Calvert with blatant hero-worship. Further conversation was cut off by the sound of the bow chaser as it fired. They watched the ball fly through the air and saw it splash, short and to the right.

“She's hauled down Dutch colors and hoisted the French flag sir,” Fitzwilliam called.

“Take a reef in the mains, Mr. Humphreys,” Granger ordered. By the time the men had achieved that, the Bon Frère was comfortably within range. Fleming began a steady, one gun bombardment of the ship. Granger saw him look down the barrel of his gun carefully, stand back and pull the lanyard. The gun fired and recoiled back. The shot flew through the air and smashed into Bon Frère's stern. They'd soon get tired of that kind of punishment, Granger thought. Four more shots, four more direct hits.

“She's lost her mizzen topmast,” Humphreys exclaimed, pointing at the yard falling to Bon Frère'sdeck.

“Our ‘friend’ is a cool customer,” Granger said with a smile. “He's trying to lure us in closer. His topmast falls so we move in for the kill, confident in our excellent gunnery skills. Only we didn't make that mast fall. Our gunnery is indeed excellent, but we’ve been aiming at her hull.” The others stared at him like he was a savant, which irked him. It wasn't that hard of a puzzle to solve. “Take in the mains,” Granger said. That would slow Intrepid considerably, but it was also a good fire precaution. The mains were closest to the deck, and were vulnerable to flying wads from the guns, or other combustible materials found in a battle. More blasts from Fleming's gun, more damage to the Frenchman.

“She's reducing sail sir,” Calvert pointed out. Realizing that he wasn't going to fool Granger, the Bon Frère was reducing sail, asking for battle.

“I think we're close enough. Stand by larboard battery!” Granger shouted. The guns had already been loaded. “Run out!” The guns began to push through Intrepid's ports. She was showing her teeth now. “Starboard your helm,” Granger said to the helmsman. Intrepid spun around neatly, with the wind right behind her.

“Fire!” Granger shouted. The guns went off almost in unison, pushing Intrepid over a bit. Granger saw the balls rip into the Frenchman's rear quarter as she desperately tried to turn to show Intrepid her own broadside. “Fire at will men. Remember your drills. We have to pour as much iron into her as we can!” Granger called to the gun crews.

Granger noticed that now that they were firing independently, the crews were working like banshees, trying to race the gun next to them. He saw Lennox reprimand one of the gunners who had almost forgotten to sponge out first. He was turning into a talented young officer.

Bon Frère was broadside to them now, her own guns run out. Granger saw her side covered in smoke as she fired, but the shots all fell short. They had the perfect range. She put her nose toward Intrepid, trying to work her way closer so her guns would bear, but Granger just adjusted course to keep them apart. He watched as ball after ball smashed into Bon Frère. She'd been out here in the Indian Ocean so long; she was such an old ship, that her hull was fused together. Instead of shot holes in her side, whole sections were blasted free.

Calvert had moved among the guns and was moving men off the starboard side to replace the exhausted gunners on the larboard, a judicious use of manpower to make sure the men didn't wear themselves out. Such a smart thing to do, and so typical of Calvert, Granger thought.

He looked at his watch. It had been thirty minutes since the first broadside and Intrepid continued to pour a relentless fire into her. Bon Frère was quickly turning into a wreck. Her side was smashed in beyond recognition, and there was blood flowing down her sides from her scuppers, making it look as if the whole ship was bleeding. A ship that size, fitted out as a privateer, would have a huge crew. The slaughter must be unbelievable below her decks.

Granger turned to Barney. “Why doesn't she strike? She's taken more punishment than most ships already, and not a shot in return.”

“She's a privateer, sir. They've had a good deal going until we came along. Probably unwilling to let it go,” he said philosophically. Granger just shrugged. Well, if she wouldn't strike, he'd fill her full enough with iron that she sank into the Indian Ocean. So the guns continued their relentless fire. With Calvert's expert management of the crews, they could fire continuously until they ran out of powder and shot.

“There goes her main mast!” someone shouted. Granger watched as the Bon Frère's main mast tilted forward and smashed into the foremast, taking that mast down as well. She was all but dismasted, with just a stub of a mizzenmast standing. Intrepid stuck with her, under reefed topsails, blasting away.

“What's that?” Fitzwilliam asked. Someone was waving a flag from her deck. A union flag, a British flag, probably one they'd used to trap other unsuspecting ships. She'd finally struck.

“Cease firing!” Granger ordered. “Sway out the launch. I want a full boarding party, including all the marines!” He looked down at the deck. “Mr. Calvert!”

“Sir?” he asked, rushing back to talk to Granger.

“You are obviously fit enough for duty,” Granger said with a smile. “You have the ship.” He looked to see if Humphreys' feelings were hurt, but he seemed fine with it.

“You're not going over there are you sir?” Calvert asked, horrified.

“I am,” Granger said firmly. He nodded to the men and lowered himself into the launch. Carslake was there with him, along with Fitzwilliam and a full boarding party, armed to the teeth. They set the lugsail and moved briskly through the water toward the stricken Bon Frère.

The closer they got to her, the worse she looked. Her sides were smashed in in several places, some of them near the waterline. In any sea at all, she was doomed, and he could feel the wind freshening with the oncoming squall Barney had predicted. “I don't think we can save her,” Granger said.

Carslake looked at the sky, as if seeking divine guidance, then at the Bon Frère. “I think you're right sir. We'll be lucky to get the crew off the ship in time.”

Jeffers guided the boat smoothly up to the scarred side of the Bon Frère and Granger climbed up her damaged main chains. He strode onto a deck in complete chaos. “Who's in charge here?” he demanded in French.

“I am monsieur,” said a young man, a midshipman to all appearances. “Pierre Laval.”

“Mr. Laval, where are the other officers?” Granger asked.

“They are dead or wounded. I am the ranking midshipman.” He motioned toward an older man. “This is the sailing master, Jerome.”

“Are any of your boats seaworthy?” Granger asked.

“No, they are smashed,” he said.

“Mr. Fitzwilliam,” Granger said, getting his attention. “Signal Intrepid to close. I want all her boats in the water immediately.” He turned back to the Frenchman. “Get your men together, bring the wounded up. We must abandon ship.”

“Yes sir,” he said, slipping back into the routine of taking orders.

“I'll be below. Jeffers, you're with me.” Granger said. They worked their way past moaning and bleeding men to what had once been the captain's cabin. Granger entered and noticed what was left of the beautiful furnishings. The havoc and destruction Intrepid had caused was stunning. Granger went to the captain's desk and pried it open. There were lots of papers in there. Granger looked around and saw the tablecloth still on the massive dining table in the cabin. He tore it off and dumped all the papers in it.

“Looks like a safe here sir,” Jeffers said, pointing to a squat object in the corner. Granger went over and tried to open it, but it was locked.

“I'm going up on deck. Open that safe, even if you have to blow it to pieces,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” Jeffers said.

Granger found the deck even more chaotic than before. There were wounded men all over the place, having been hauled up from below. He looked over the side to see Intrepid much closer as Calvert maneuvered her nearer. “How many wounded?” he asked Carslake.

“There are fifty wounded men sir,” Carslake said, “and about one hundred fit men.”

“Well we'll have to fit them on Intrepid,” Granger said. The seas were already rising, and he could feel Bon Frère getting more and more sluggish as she took on more water. “We don't have much time.”

He was distracted by a sharp explosion. Carslake looked at him nervously.
“I think Jeffers has just opened the French captain's safe,” Granger said. He turned to find the French midshipman. “Monsieur Laval, tell me of your capture of the frigate, of Rattlesnake.”

“I cannot betray my countrymen,” he said indignantly. “I cannot reveal information about this ship or her operations.”

“Very well. Then I have no more time for you. You will have to take your chances in your boats. We're about to fire the ship,” Granger said.

“But we have no boats,” he said.

“Then you will die,” Granger said bloodlessly. He turned to Carslake and said in English: “Stop loading the wounded into boats. We're leaving them here.”

“You would not do such a horrible thing!” Laval said. So he spoke English. Crafty bloke.

“Their blood is on your hands, not mine monsieur,” Granger said. “We have what we need, so we'll be leaving. Good day to you.” He watched the conflict on the young man's face as he grappled with his duty to his country as opposed to his duty to his men.

“I will tell you what you want to know,” he said.

“Carry on Mr. Carslake,” Granger said. “Tell me about Rattlesnake's capture.”

“She came swooping down on us. The captain was concerned because we have orders not to engage British ships, but she was relentless. She came up next to us, in range of our guns, and we dismasted her within ten minutes. Then she surrendered,” he said in a matter-of-fact way.

“Why aren't you supposed to engage British ships? Our countries are at war,” Granger asked.

“I do not know. I only know that when we encounter a British ship, we bear off. Rattlesnake is the only British ship we captured, and we did not plan to do it, we had no choice.”

Granger stared at him, thoroughly confused now. “So what kind of ships do you normally capture?”

“Dutchmen. We usually cruise around the Maldives, sometimes as far east as Malaya,” he said.

“And when you capture one of these Dutchmen, what do you do?” Granger asked.

“We send her into port for sale,” he said.

“Which port?” Granger asked.

“Sometimes Port Louis, sometimes Pondicherry, but usually Madras,” he said.

“Madras? A French privateer sends its captured vessels into a British port for disposition?” Granger was amazed, and not quite sure he could believe this Frenchman.

“Yes,” he said simply.

“What of Bon Frère. Does she frequent British ports as well?” Granger asked.

“Of course,” he said. “Almost more than French ones. We fly British colors then, and are welcomed.” Granger hid his surprise.

“Why did you not surrender sooner?” Granger asked.

“The Captain refused. He said our mission was too important to be lost now. Then a cannon ball cut him in half, and I was left alone, so I surrendered.”

“So you captured Rattlesnake. Where is she now?” Granger asked.

“I cannot tell you that,” he said indignantly.

“You can and you will monsieur. The activities you just admitted to are those of a pirate. Answer my questions or I will hang you from that yard arm before this ship sinks!” Granger said loudly.

“She is based out of the Seychelles. She is due to sail east shortly,” he said resignedly.

“What happened to her crew, to the crew of Rattlesnake?” Granger asked.

“They are being held as prisoners on Mahe,” he said. That was one of the Seychelles.

“Thank you Mr. Laval. Now go help rescue your people. We must move quickly if we are to save them before this ship sinks.”

“Yes sir,” he said.

“Mr. Carslake, I'm going back to Intrepid. Transfer as many of these people as you can. If she starts to sink, you must save our men first,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” he said. Granger took his bundle of papers, including those found in Bon Frère's safe, and had himself rowed the short distance back to Intrepid.

“How was it sir?” Calvert asked.

“Confusing,” Granger said obliquely. “I will be in my cabin. You will have to arrange for the accommodation of some one hundred healthy and fifty wounded prisoners,” Granger said, dropping that challenge on Calvert.

“That should be a task sir. But we'll get it done,” he said readily. It was good to have him up and about again.

“Send Mr. Barney down to me with our current position,” Granger said, and then headed for his cabin. What was going on? Why did a French ship have access to British ports? Was that done in exchange for her not preying on British ships? Granger looked at the stack of papers on his desk, the papers he'd retrieved from Bon Frère.

There was a knock on his cabin door, and Barney entered when bidden. “You wanted to see me sir?”

“What is our current position?” Granger asked, pulling out his chart.

“We're here sir, about two hundred miles east of the Seychelles,” he said.

“We've got a fair wind for them. We could be there day after tomorrow if we're lucky,” Granger said. “As soon as we have evacuated Bon Frèreand set her ablaze, plot a course for Mahe.”

“Aye aye sir,” Barney said. He looked confused. So was Granger.