Dewey Lambdin - Reefs and Shoals

“It is my honour to make yours, Sir Alan,” Gilpin declared.

“Join me in my cabins, sir,” Lewrie invited, “for a glass of something cool.”

“Sounds grand, sir,” Gilpin agreed.

“Rhenish, Commander Gilpin, or cool tea?” Lewrie offered once they were seated on the starboard side. “Mind the cats, they’re just curious,” he cautioned as Toulon and Chalky came slinking.

“Tea, sir, if you please,” Gilpin decided, wary of the cats, who found any new visitor worthy of sniffs and inspection. Gilpin had on his best-dress uniform, and the blue coat (so far) was pristine.

“You were down South with Captain Forrester, I take it? Just before he departed, he sent me a letter about it,” Lewrie said. “He wished me t’join him, but I had other orders. They’re finished now, at last. Did you manage t’catch up with Villeneuve and his fleet?”

“We never did, sorry to say, sir,” Gilpin told him as he was presented with lemon juice and turbinado sugar to stir into his tea. “We got as far as Antigua and English Harbour, put in to speak with the officer commanding, and found that the first arrival, that French Admiral Missiessy, had already hared back to France, and there was no clear information as to Villeneuve’s whereabouts, so that was as far as we went.”

“Then it was best that I kept Reliant here, or off Saint Augustine and Spanish Florida,” Lewrie said.

Commander Gilpin was a pleasant-looking fellow in his middle thirties, trim and fit, and well-uniformed, with a blunt and honest face. He took a sip of tea, smiled in pleasant appreciation, and gave out a sigh. “Quite refreshing, sir, thank you. Sir Alan, I-”

Lewrie waved the formality off.

“Ehm… I noted quite a few prizes in port, sir,” Gilpin said. “Are they your doing?”

“Three French privateers, and a ship and two brigs awaiting return to their owners,” Lewrie happily told him, laying a brief sketch of their recent doings.

“And you command a squadron of your own, sir?” Gilpin further enquired. “I note that you fly a ‘white-balled’ broad pendant.”

“A wee one,” Lewrie replied. “I brought a sloop with me from Bermuda, and borrowed Lieutenants Lovett and Darling from your Captain Forrester when I arrived. Damned fine men, full of daring. I shall be sorry to lose them.”

Gilpin cocked a brow at that.

“We’ve fulfilled my orders,” Lewrie explained. “The criminal enterprise is broken up, the French and Spanish are on warning that the Georgia coast can’t be used for privateering any longer, so I’ve nothing left to fulfill, but for the minor task of making new charts of the reefs of Bermuda, so, Lizard and I, and her captain, Lieutenant Bury, will soon depart. Before hurricane season, hopefully, and the climes at Bermuda aren’t as sickly as the West Indies, or the Bahamas.

“In point of fact, my First Lieutenant and Lieutenant Bury wish to do a survey of North Ireland Island, and Grassy Bay, with an eye towards its possible use as a naval dockyard. Ever been up to Bermuda, Commander? The one harbour, Saint George’s, is close to the sea, but it’s bad holding-ground in a blow, and a tight fit did one of our fleets put in there. Whereas Grassy Bay and the Great Sound are hard to get to, for us and any foe, but huge and deep, with what looks t’be a completely impassible set of reefs all round. Only a rowboat could get through, assumin’ they didn’t get lost in the dead-end channels and the maze of coral heads. Soon as Forrester brings Mersey back to Nassau, I’m off.”

“Captain Forrester will not be coming back, sir,” Gilpin said with a quirky look of surpise. Or was it well-hidden glee?

“Oh?” Lewrie rejoined, hoping for the worst. “Why is that?”

“Well sir, once we put into English Harbour, he went ashore to confer with the Admiral commanding, and while I do not know what was said, he returned in some… discomforture,” Gilpin related.

“Chalky!” Lewrie snapped. “Leave his boot tassels alone! Go on, sir, pray do. Here, puss. Pester me, instead!”

“Soon after, Captain Forrester summoned us aboard the flagship and told us we’d be returning to Nassau, that our services had been deemed un-necessary, and we weighed the next morning,” Gilpin went on, “even though there wasn’t a breath of wind, and we had to put down our boats to tow us from one warping post to the next out to the channel.”

“Well I remember leavin’ English Harbour,” Lewrie said with a rueful grin. Chalky had come to Lewrie’s lap to sniff at the star on his chest whilst Toulon was still on the settee by Gilpin, seated with his tail curled over his paws and staring in curiosity. “Toulon there is safe t’pet, d’ye care for it.”

“Ehm… thank you, sir,” Gilpin said, though making no move to do so. Lewrie gestured him to go on; with his story, he meant, but his guest took it for an order to pet Toulon, so he gave him a tentative pat on the head.

“You were sayin’…” Lewrie pleasantly urged, sure that that fubsy toad, Forrester, had come some sort of cropper.

“Aye, sir,” Gilpin began again. “The other brig-sloop led out, and found a faint breeze, with a harbour pilot aboard, and I followed in her wake. When Mersey got past the last warping post and took her boats back aboard, though, the tide began to carry her astern, and a fluke of wind laid her aback. Before they could cast an anchor free she was driven on the coral and rocks, despite the best efforts of the other harbour pilot and her officers.”

Come a real cropper, has he? Lewrie thought, feeling like he could laugh out loud like a lunatick; How bloody wonderful!

“How awful for him,” he said, though, pretending sorrow quite well, if he did say so, himself! “Badly damaged, was she?”

“They finally got her off and fothered the holes in the hull, well enough to tow her back into harbour, sir,” Gilpin continued his tale, “but it took half the crew on the pumps and the other half at getting her lightened. They took her down to a gant-line and landed all her guns and carriages ashore, along with all her stores, before getting her into the docks. Whether she is repaired and taken on as a receiving or store ship, or condemned and burned for her fittings, had not been decided when Fulmar and Delight were ordered to return to Nassau, sir. They were, however, assembling the sufficient number of Post-Captains for a Court-Martial for her loss, and the charge of Captain Forrester abandoning his area of responsibility, sir.”

Yes, there is a God, and He’s just, t’boot! Lewrie gleefully told himself; They’ll “Yellow Squadron” the fool, at long last!

“Well, hmm,” was Lewrie’s comment. “Hah! Damn my eyes.”

“The Admiral at Antigua sent you a letter, sir,” Gilpin went on, reaching into a side-pocket of his coat. “Sorry for being remiss. Evidently, Captain Forrester must have made mention that you and your frigate were on station, or somewhere nearby, under Admiralty orders.”

“And a complaint that I refused t’join him,” Lewrie freely admitted, recalling the wording of Forrester’s last attempt to order him under his flag.

“So… both I and Commander Richie of Fulmar were ordered to seek you out at once and relay the Admiral’s request,” Gilpin said as he handed the letter over. “For so long as the strength and the whereabouts of the French fleet under Villeneuve is discovered, and their objective is determined, his verbal orders to me were to tell you that he cannot spare any ships of his squadron to take Mersey ’s place, but… as soon as he may safely do so, he will send a ship, or several, to defend the Bahamas. Until then, though, sir, you are in command of the largest ship on-station. Which makes you the temporary Senior Naval Officer Commanding the Bahamas.”