St. Vincent - 16. Chapter 16

December 19, 1796

“It’s a nice evening, sir,” Lieutenant Clifton said to him as he strode up on deck.

“Indeed it is, Mr. Clifton,” Granger responded affably. The voyage had gone quite well so far. Even though it had only been three, almost four days since they’d sailed, Nelson fit into the ship perfectly. And that was another amazing thing about the man: he seemed to adapt to the ship, while in reality, the ship adapted to him. “Just a bit brisk.”

“Yes, sir,” Clifton said with a smile, “although I’m sure we’re faring better than our peers in the Channel Fleet.”

Granger chuckled at that. “I have managed to avoid that assignment, although there are advantages, such as being near home.”

“That’s true, sir. I do miss London at times.”

“This war does not look to be ending soon, so I expect we’ll be at sea for a while,” Granger cautioned. “But one advantage of being on a frigate is that we have a chance of seeing England more often.” He wasn’t sure if that was entirely true, but he figured he would try and keep Clifton’s hopes up.

A seaman skidded to a halt in front of them. “Sir, I didn’t want to shout, but we’ve sighted two ships dead ahead.”

“How far off?” Granger asked.

“Probably five miles, sir,” he said. “One of ‘em is carrying a light.”

Granger was about to order silence as they evaluated what the ships were, but with Blanche in company, that wouldn’t work anyway. “What do you make of them?” Granger asked.

“It’s hard to tell, sir, but I think the one with the light is a frigate, a big one.”

“They can’t be ours, can they sir?” Clifton asked.

“Not a chance, Mr. Clifton,” Granger confirmed. “We are the easternmost units here in the Mediterranean.” He turned back to the seaman. “What sail were they under?”

“Easy sail, sir. Practically hove to, begging your pardon, sir.”

“Not British then,” Granger joked, getting a chuckle from everyone within earshot. No self respecting Royal Navy captain would sail along at such a leisurely pace. “Good job,” Granger said to the lookout. “Keep me informed.” He turned to Clifton. “Please send for the Commodore, and pass the word for Mr. Roberts.”

Roberts arrived first, but just barely. Before Granger could brief him Nelson appeared. “Well Granger, you know I need all of my beauty sleep. What are you doing interrupting it?”

“I assumed you’d be up for a night action, sir,” Granger said. He watched Nelson transform before his eyes, from a charming and brilliant commander, into a fiery warrior.

“What do we have?”

“There are two ships ahead of us. There’s a light ahead on the poop of one of them, and she appears to be a large frigate. From what we can see of the other ship, I think she is a bit smaller. My guess is that there are two frigates sailing in concert. We should be up on them within two hours,” Granger said. “With your permission, I’d like to clear for action.”

“You may proceed,” he said. “Signal Blanche to close with us.”

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said. “Mr. Roberts, beat to quarters and clear for action.” The commotion had roused most of the ship anyway, so there shouldn’t be too many men rolled out of their hammocks. “Mr. Brookstone, have Blanche close with us. I want her within hailing range.”

“Aye aye sir,” they said in unison. Granger wasn’t sure if Blanche had seen the ships, or if the enemy ships had seen them, but as soon as the drummer began banging out that martial sound, they’d all know something was afoot.

“Sir,” the lookout hailed from the foretop. “Two frigates. Dons by the look of them.” That just confirmed Granger’s guess.

Nelson began pacing the deck, and Granger joined him. “What do you intend, sir?”

“There are two frigates. The one with the light will be the leader, so we’ll set our teeth into her. I’ll have Preston take on the other one.” That made sense, since the leader would be the bigger one, and Belvidera had heavier armament than Blanche.

“With the wind as it is, we may be able to rake her before we close action, sir,” Granger observed.

“You’re thinking in single-ship action terms, Granger,” Nelson said sharply. “It’s night as well, and despite the moon, we don’t want to lose them. Just lay us alongside. Your men will do the rest.”

“Yes, sir,” Granger said, swallowing his objections. Nelson had almost made it sound ignoble to try to outmaneuver the enemy, something Granger prided himself on. It was hard for Granger not to let that rankle him, but he forced his emotions aside. He had to focus on the action at hand.

“Sir,” Roberts said, breaking in on their conversation. “One of the men thinks he recognizes the Don with the light. It’s the Sabina.”

“Don Jacobo Stuart’s ship,” Granger observed.

“He is supposed to be one of their best officers,” Nelson said. “Perhaps that is because of his Stuart blood.”

“I had the honor of meeting him, sir,” Granger mentioned. “We conveyed the Spanish Ambassador home after the declaration of war, and we intercepted a Spanish squadron. Captain Stuart came to retrieve the ambassador.”

“Hmm,” Nelson said. “Two English frigates against two Spanish. The outcome should not be in question, even if he is a good captain.”

“I agree, sir,” Granger said, then smiled. “Although I hope you will factor into your report that Sabina is rated for over 40 guns, while we are rated for 32.” Sabina was a big frigate, with a heavy broadside. Not only that, but her scantlings would be heavier, making her a tougher ship than Belvidera in a battle. Royal Navy captains were used to tackling bigger odds, and Granger would never shirk from a battle against a foreign frigate, even one that was significantly bigger than his. At the same time, he wanted to make it clear to Nelson that these were not equal ships, and that Belvidera was tackling a much larger foe.

“Trust me to make sure that is duly noted, Granger,” Nelson said in a jovial manner.

“Ship’s cleared for action, sir,” Roberts said. “Shall we lower the boats?”

“When we get closer,” Granger mentioned.

“Remind me to ask you about your method for stowing boats, Granger,” Nelson mentioned. “I’ve been meaning to discuss it with you.”

“Certainly, sir.”

“Sir,” Lockyer said to Nelson. “Blanche is alongside.”

Granger, Nelson, and Roberts went to the rail and looked out into the night. The moon was bright, and perfectly illuminated Blanche. She was bustling along, quite close to Belvidera. “Captain Preston!” Nelson shouted through the speaking trumpet.

“Yes, sir,” came the reply from Preston. It was quite clear, so presumably Preston could hear just as well.

“We are going to engage the ship carrying the light,” Nelson said. “You will take on the other frigate.”

“Aye aye sir,” Preston’s voice came through.

“You’ll need to be on our starboard side to do that,” Nelson yelled. “Captain Granger will back his sails and let you pass in front of us.”

“Aye aye sir,” Preston repeated.

“Granger, back your sails and let Blanche cross your bows,” Nelson ordered as he handed Lockyer the speaking trumpet.

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said, and then began bellowing orders. With the handiness Granger had grown to expect from his crew, they backed the sails, which acted as a tremendous brake. Belvidera seemed to stop dead in the water while Blanche surged ahead, then in a neat maneuver; Preston swung her across Belvidera’s bows and took a position to intercept the other Spanish frigate.

Now there was more bellowing on Belvidera as she re-trimmed her sails and loosed the mains to gain back the space they had given up. He had almost expected the Spanish to run, but they were simply moving along at a smooth pace, as if they were waiting for the English frigates to reach them. “They seem to be offering battle, sir,” Roberts said.

“I do believe you are correct, Mr. Roberts,” Nelson agreed. “That will change as this war goes on, and we thrash them a few times.”

Granger watched their progress, and evaluated where they’d intercept. “Mr. Roberts, I want the starboard battery loaded but not run out. We’ll be at close range, so double shot the guns, and throw in a charge of grape shot for good measure.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said, and went off to execute his orders.

“Don’t want to tip your hand too early?” Nelson asked.

“Yes sir,” Granger acknowledged. “If he attempts to cross our bow, then I’ll swing to the starboard and cross his stern instead.”

“A good plan,” Nelson said, validating him. That did a lot to alleviate the irritation from Nelson’s earlier comments, and gave Granger some freedom to fight his ship. He did not want to submit his men to a raking.

“It should be a good hour before we’re up to them, sir,” Clifton said, gauging the distances.

“Then I shall walk about the ship,” Nelson announced.

“I will go with the Commodore,” Granger announced. “Alert me when we are within 15 minutes of the Spaniard, or if anything changes. You may lower the boats now.” Roberts acknowledged his order, and then Granger led Nelson below decks.

“Mr. Carslake, you may open your ports,” Granger said as they arrived on the gun deck. That would provide fresh air and moon light. “That way you men can see our next prize as it looms up.” That was directed to the nearest gun crew, and got a predictable cheer from them.

Nelson stopped at one of the starboard batteries. “What are we fighting, sir?” one of the men asked him.

“Just a Spanish frigate. Should be no work at all to dish her up.”

“Only the one, sir?” the man asked, and got a laugh from Nelson. Granger watched in awe as Nelson made his way down the gun deck, stopping periodically to talk to the men and encourage them. They reached the forward ladder and climbed back up onto the forecastle, where he talked to the men at the bow guns, then worked their way back aft. The two of them arrived on the quarterdeck and took stock of the situation again.

“Sir, looks like she’s veering to larboard, but just a trifle,” the lookout called.

“Match her move,” Granger ordered. They were almost even with her. Granger could see her ornate stern with the letters Sabina emblazoned in gold leaf.

“Get us down to fighting sail, Mr. Roberts,” Granger ordered. Men rushed up the masts to take in all but the topsails, once again slowing Belvidera’s progress. She gained slowly on Sabina after that. They were close in, close enough for muskets to factor into the battle. Granger noted with approval that Somers had posted his snipers and grenadiers in the tops.

Granger watched their approach and pondered the outcome. Which ship would have the three things necessary for a victory? The first and most important factor was the rate of gunfire. That was simply a matter of firing the guns as quickly as possible, and Granger was confident that his crew could beat Sabina’s rate of fire, and more than offset her advantage of having a heavier broadside. The second factor was strategy. The British strategy was to fire into the hull of an enemy and create so much damage and carnage that the other ship would strike her colors. The Spanish and French shared a strategy of firing at the rigging, in an attempt to dismast a ship and render her incapable of maneuvering. That strategy was an old one, handed down from the days of the Spanish Armada, when warships were little more than floating castles. In one sense, such a strategy made sense, because if a ship’s rigging was damaged; it could render her immobile, and allow her foe to either move in for the kill, or to escape if needed. The problem was that it simply wasn’t very effective. The fact that Belvidera was once a French ship and was now English was a testament to both English rates of fire and strategy. But it was that final variable that created so much uncertainty: luck. Would their shots find the mark before Sabina’s? What kind of damage would they have to endure, and would it be less than their opponent? And who among the officers and crew would survive the battle, and who would fall?

“Quartermaster, helm to larboard,” Granger ordered. He didn’t want to board yet, and they were that close. Belvidera yawed away from Sabina, enough to let her broadside bear on the other ship’s quarter. “Fire as you bear, Mr. Carslake,” Granger called. Granger looked at his watch and noted that it was midnight, and at that moment the starboard battery erupted.

The flashes and sound of the guns were blinding and deafening, enough to disorient most men, but these sailors were veterans, and they knew the procedure. This is what all of the drilling and practicing was for. Now that they were engaged, it was a simple contest. He heard their shots slamming into Sabina, and heard cries and screams from her crew as some of them were wounded.

Those thoughts were quickly dashed aside as Sabina fired her first broadside. Granger’s world erupted around him. A shot crashed through one of the forecastle bulwarks, spraying splinters. Granger watched as two of his men were cut down by them, and watched as others hauled them below. Dr. Jackson would be busy tonight, Granger thought sadly. He looked up as falling blocks bounced off the chain slings rigged to protect the men below. The sails were marked with holes, witness to the Spanish strategy of aiming high.

After that first broadside, Granger allowed his men to fire at their own pace. Nelson commented on it. “You allow independent firing so soon?”

“Yes, sir,” Granger replied. “These men are well-trained, and I find that the competition urges them on. If you will observe the officers, you’ll notice that they’ll encourage guns that are firing faster, and that sets the tone for the rest of them.”

“It appears to be working,” Nelson allowed. “I think that’s as fast a rate of fire as I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you, sir,” Granger said with a smile. “I’ll tell the men you said that.”

“Only if I am cut down,” he said. “Otherwise I will tell them myself.” And that would be as motivating as any prize money, Granger thought.

He’d been speaking to Nelson as if they were standing at court, chatting away; while all around them chaotic action was taking place. Balls crashed into Belvidera, sending splinters flying, or sliced through the rigging. Granger watched in horror as a cannon ball decapitated a marine before their very eyes, but just like Nelson, he remained impassive, as if he were a statue.

“Look out, sir!” Lockyer cried. Granger and Nelson jumped back, just as the mizzen topmast fell onto the sling. The yard pierced through the gaps and stabbed one of the helmsmen through the chest like an obscene sword.

“You there,” Roberts called to a nearby seaman. “Man the helm.” And that was how it went. One man fell, and another took his place. Dr. Jackson would definitely have his work cut out for him today, Granger thought again ruefully.

“Sir, there goes her mizzen!” one of the seamen at the quarterdeck carronades shouted. Granger and Nelson looked as Sabina’s mizzen mast careened over slowly, and smiled as it took the main topmast with it. It would make no great difference in the battle at this point. Both ships were sailing slowly as they pulverized each other, barely making way. Belvidera still had her main and fore topsails set, but they were so shot up they weren’t drawing very well, while Sabina now only had her foretopsail to propel her. If Granger had the freedom to conduct this battle as he wanted, he might try clapping some extra sail on, perhaps the mainsail, and use that to position himself off Sabina’s bow, but he knew Nelson would never go for that.

Granger watched his Commodore, and he truly seemed to be enjoying himself. “This is the only place I want to be, Granger,” he said. “In the heat of battle, doing our job, doing what we’re supposed to do.”

“Yes, sir,” Granger agreed. He suddenly felt almost cowardly, because he wasn’t enjoying the battle. For Granger, a battle was exciting; a chance to prove himself and his ship, but it wasn’t fun. He could never blind himself to the carnage, to the loss of valuable crewmen, men that he knew. As he pondered that, a ball came through the starboard carronade port, ripping the port open and ricocheting off the carronade barrel. From there it plowed into the carronade crew on the other side, killing one man and wounding two others. Maybe that’s what makes Nelson such a good and charismatic commander, Granger thought. Maybe his ability to shut out these vignettes was what made him so good at leading other men. Granger decided that if that were so, he would never rise to those levels himself.

He re-focused on the bigger battle and watched as Belvidera poured iron into Sabina, her rate of fire barely slackened, while Sabina’s fire slowed perceptibly. “She seems to be firing more slowly, sir,” he told Nelson.

“There goes her foretopmast,” Nelson said, pointing. “She’s all but dismasted. She should strike now.” It actually took a few more rounds from Belvidera’s guns to convince the Spaniard that the battle was not going his way.

“Sir, I think she’s struck!” a marine called. Granger saw the Spanish flag come fluttering down.

“Cease fire!” Granger called. It took a bit for it to filter down to the main deck, and that meant a few more shots got off and a few more balls crashed into Sabina, but it couldn’t be helped.

“Mr. Roberts,” Nelson called. “You will take command of the prize. We will take her in tow until you can get sail on her.”

“You’ll need a prize crew,” Granger added.

“It won’t need to be too big, Granger,” Nelson added. “The Spanish crew will be mostly peasants, and they’ll follow orders from whoever is in charge.”

Somers was on the quarterdeck. “Captain, maybe you can go and assist Mr. Roberts,” Granger said. That would give Roberts someone who was well versed in security. “Take 40 men with you. Who speaks Spanish?”

“I do, sir,” Gatling said, just coming onto the quarterdeck.

“And when did you learn Spanish?” Granger asked.

“Jorge taught me, sir,” Gatling said. If it weren’t dark, and Gatling’s face weren’t covered by soot from gunpowder, Granger knew he’d be able to see Gatling blushing three shades of red. Granger wondered what else Jorge had taught him, and how close they were.

“Very well. You may assist Mr. Roberts,” Granger ordered.

“Send the Sabina’s officers back to us,” Nelson said as Roberts put his crew together. “That will remove anyone who is bright enough to try and re-take the ship, and it will let us keep an eye on them.”

“Aye aye sir,” Roberts said. “And thank you for this opportunity.”

That last sentence emphasized the significance of this moment. This could very well be Roberts’ first step on the ladder of promotion to captain. Earning command of a prize, especially a prize as significant as Sabina, was a clear mark of favor. Granger put aside his ruminating, his thoughts that he may never see Roberts again, and answered for both himself and Nelson. “You have more than earned it, Mr. Roberts.” Granger took a few minutes to approve Roberts’ choices for his prize crew, saw his first lieutenant over the side, and then turned to put his own ship to rights.

“Mr. Clifton, let’s clear away this wreckage,” Granger ordered. He threw himself into a frenzy of activity.

“Pardon me, sir,” Meurice said. “The rigging is shot up pretty badly.” It was his job to know these things as the Master.

“Can we carry any sail?” Granger asked.

“Not yet, sir,” he said.

“Secure the guns and detail parties to get our rigging in shape,” Granger ordered, prioritizing for them. Men who had only moments before been exerting themselves like demons tending to their guns were now called upon again, only this time their mission was to repair the damage the battle had left. They swarmed up the rigging, trying to repair the damage. Blocks and yards, along with topmasts, lay like dead things, suspended above them by the chain slings.

“What of the Blanche?” Nelson asked.

Granger hailed the lookout, who reported seeing flashes to the south. “She must have engaged the other frigate to the south, or at least driven her off.”

“Are they still engaged?” Nelson wondered aloud.

“Do you see any gunfire?” Granger called.

“No, sir,” came the response. Whatever action Preston had gotten into, it must be over now.

Carslake came trooping up to the quarterdeck, walking a bit unsteadily. “How bad is it below?” Granger asked him.

“They aimed high, so most of the damage was up here, sir,” Carslake said. “There are a few casualties.” The man was swaying on his feet. Just as he began to collapse, Clifton rushed forward to catch him.

“What is wrong with you, Mr. Carslake?” Granger asked.

“Just a small splinter wound, sir,” Carslake said. They pulled open his uniform and saw a large splinter firmly lodged in Carslake’s abdomen.

“You fought with that lodged in your innards?” Nelson asked.

“Yes sir,” Carslake replied, barely able to speak he was so weak.

“That is one of the bravest acts I have ever seen, Lieutenant,” Nelson told him. It would be the last thing Carslake would hear, as he died in Clifton’s arms. They all just froze, staring at Carslake’s dead body, until duty recalled them.

“You will assume the duties of First Lieutenant while Mr. Roberts is gone,” Granger said to Clifton.

“Aye aye sir,” he said. Clifton was relatively inexperienced, and that meant that Granger would need to be much more involved in the operation of Belvidera. He almost sighed at the thought of the extra effort and responsibility that would entail.

“Please attend to the repairs aloft,” Granger directed. “Mr. Brookstone!”

“Sir?” Brookstone asked.

“You will assume the duties of second lieutenant pending Mr. Roberts’ return.”

Brookstone beamed. “Thank you, sir!”

“Take charge below,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” Brookstone said, and went below to supervise the gun deck.

“Sir,” Granger said, getting Nelson’s attention. “If I may, I would like to borrow Mr. Lockyer to handle the signals for us.”

“That’s fine, Granger. He’s quite capable.”

“As he has proven, sir,” Granger said, smiling at Lockyer. He turned to the marine near him. “Pass the word for the carpenter. And for Winkler.”

Winkler arrived first. “We will be hosting the officers of Sabina on board. Please see to clearing away a section aft so we may receive them and offer them some refreshments.”

“Will we be securing from action, sir?” he asked.

“There’s another frigate still out there,” Granger mused, more to himself than anyone. “We’ll remain as we are for the time being. You’ll have to make do.”

“Aye aye sir,” Winkler said, and scampered off to execute Granger’s difficult order. With all of his furniture and cabin stores below, welcoming a Spanish delegation would not be an easy task.

The carpenter appeared next, and thankfully the man had anticipated Granger’s question and had already checked the water in the well. Granger was relieved to discover it was all but dry.

“It appears you dodged damage below, Granger,” Nelson noted.

“Yes, sir,” Granger said. But as he looked up at the rigging, he decided that they had more than enough to worry about aloft.

Granger heard a hail as a boat pulled up alongside. Clifton was certainly shining, in that even with all that was going on; he managed to gather a suitable side party to welcome the Spaniards aboard. Granger looked at his watch and noted that it was almost 3am.

Don Jacobo Stuart came aboard; looking much as he had the last time Granger had seen him. The battle did not seem to have mussed up his appearance much. He approached Granger and Nelson, bowing to salute them, bows that Granger and Nelson returned.

“Welcome aboard, Capitan,” Granger said politely in Spanish. “I am sorry we are meeting again under such unfortunate circumstances.”

Stuart responded in English. “It is hardly unfortunate, Captain, when such a battle is fought. No matter who is the victor or who is vanquished, all can feel the satisfaction of fighting with honor.”

That got a smile from Nelson. “I could not agree with you more. I am Commodore Horatio Nelson, commanding this squadron.” Stuart proffered his sword to Nelson, as senior officer, formally offering his surrender. “Señor, anyone who fights his ship as well as you did, deserves to retain his sword. Please keep it with my compliments.”

“Thank you, sir,” Stuart said.

“It is my intention to accommodate you aboard Belvidera,” Nelson went on. “As soon as is practical, I will return you to your countrymen.”

“We will need to arrange an exchange,” Stuart said cautiously.

“Such things are for diplomats, not gentlemen,” Nelson joked. “I will be satisfied if you give me your pledge not to fight against His Britannic Majesty or his allies until such time as an exchange can be effected.”

“Thank you again,” Stuart said, bowing low. Granger was able to foist him off on Nelson, and let them all go below to talk about the battle they’d just fought. Granger stayed on deck to get his ship back in order. There was no telling what dawn would bring, and what new challenge would lie on the horizon.