“Ah, but they never came under fire, and once empty, they were used to carry the defeated Dutch soldiers home, then went back to general work,” Mountjoy carped. “Peel wrote and told me that the owners had to hire a new master for her, after the first one objected to the risk. Half her old crew cried off, too. Not that there’s that many sailors aboard her, to begin with.”
Harmony’s owners, and the Transport Board, were equal when it came to miserliness; neither would pay for more than five sailors and ship’s boys for every hundred tons of burthen, which meant that she’d be handled by only ten hands, plus master and mates, cook, carpenter, sailmaker, bosun, and such, and Lewrie simply could not imagine how it was done! His whole life had been in warships in which no less than fourty sailors were crammed aboard, arseholes to elbows, even in the smallest cutters, and there were hundreds aboard most frigates, and Sapphire, more than enough muscle for even the hardest tasks.
How the Devil do they even get the anchors up? he wondered; Or reef, or strike top-masts in a blow?
“You’ve gone aboard her?” Lewrie asked.
“As soon as she dropped anchor,” Mountjoy assured him. “I met her master, a Mister Hedgepeth, and looked her over, though she still had a full cargo aboard, waiting for the barges and stevedores, so I couldn’t tell you much about her belowdecks. God, but Hedgepeth is a dour old twist! The only reason he took command of her was that he’s to be paid ten pounds extra a month than the owners pay him, and that comes out of my budget, and I’m to be liable for any and all repairs needed, if her paint gets scraped in the course of our activities, and he insists he’ll demand more in future, if the job looks more dangerous than he was first told.”
Mountjoy went on to relate how he had approached the Commissoner of the dockyards, Captain Middleton, before Harmony had arrived, and told him that he might have to use Admiralty labour, lumber, and stores to repair a civilian ship. Mountjoy’s reception had been more than cool; more like a winter’s night at the North Pole!
“By the by, your boats are ready,” Mountjoy said, pouring them a top-up as they sat a ’sprawl under the shade of a canvas awning on the gallery. “Six double-enders, he told me, thirty-six feet long and ten abeam, with room for small carronades in their bows.”
“He still thinks he’ll get ’em as gunboats, damn him,” Lewrie griped. “Well, once Harmony’s landed the last of her cargo, he’ll be busy convertin’ her innards … at Admiralty expense. Why?” Lewrie said with a laugh at Mountjoy’s expression. “Ships altered to carry soldiers need their holds partitioned, and beds built, to accommodate them. Scads of mess tables, her galley refitted t’feed at least one hundred and fifty … some cabins made for their officers? I suppose I’ll have t’give up a Lieutenant, or a couple of senior Mids, to take charge of the crews for the boats. That’ll ease the workload of her own small crew, too, when we’re on-passage.”
The list grew longer in his head, when he considered how much food and water must be carried in her, how many spare muskets, flints, bayonets, and cutlasses would have to be requisitioned from Captain Middleton’s warehouses, and … sailors released from the hospital and re-assigned, with any lacks in their kits made good, or replaced entirely.
A Purser! Lewrie realised; Someone t’sell ’em tobacco, keep an eye on the rum issues, replace their broken mugs and plates?
“I fear you’re going to be paying out a lot more, Mountjoy,” Lewrie warned him. “Or your superiors will, to recompense the Admiralty, for all that’s wanting for our little expeditions.”
“Now why do I feel as if I’ve been set upon by a pack of bully bucks?” Mountjoy said, with a sigh.
“You’ll feel like you’ve been cudgelled half to death, before all we need is rounded up,” Lewrie hooted back, then began to tick off those needs. Mountjoy held up a hand and went to the desk to fetch a pen and paper, before allowing Lewrie to begin again. By the time it was complete, Mountjoy had to shake finger-cramp from his hand, and a fresh bottle of sparkling wine had to be opened.
“Is it possible we may be asking for a tad too much, I wonder?” Mountjoy said after a long, sullen silence. “What if we can’t get any sailors from the hospital? Could you spare men from your ship?”
“Well, if I had to, I could give up fifty hands and a couple of Midshipmen,” Lewrie admitted, equally gloomy. “But, there goes the men I intended t’arm and land alongside my Marines. I could send the Purser’s clerk, Irby, our ‘Jack In The Breadroom’, t’dole out sundries and such, too.”
“With about an hundred soldiers aboard, do those men need the spare weapons, then?” Mountjoy asked.
“No,” Lewrie said. “I could send a chest full of pistols aboard, and cutlasses, so they can defend themselves after they land on the beaches. They’d stand by the boats, and not go inland, waiting for the soldiers to finish their tasks, and come back to be taken off.”
“That solves one problem, then,” Mountjoy said, “and one less request, or burden, demanded of Captain Middleton. That may mollify him a bit, once he sees the whole list. Maybe he won’t scream quite so loudly. Rations, hmm.”
“At least enough for three months,” Lewrie stated.
“Really? How long did you intend to stay out? Just rampaging up and down the coast, Will-He, Nill-He?” Mountjoy asked.
“What d’ye mean?” Lewrie queried back.
“Now I’ve a way to communicate with my agents, and … sources, via Cummings and his boat,” Mountjoy pointed out, “It seems to me that we could gather information about how well-defended certain objectives might be, and lay our plans accordingly. Strike the Dons where they aren’t? You might plan one specific operation, based on the best intelligence, load the troops aboard Harmony, sail out and attack it, then return to port so we can plan the second.
“Now, if there were two or three tempting targets within a day or two of sailing,” Mountjoy went on, perking up for the first time in an hour, “you could go after them, depending on the weather and how rough you judge the landing might be, and not be away from port for more than a fortnight, so you wouldn’t have to cram too much aboard the transport at any given time, leaving more room for soldiers and your sailors.”
“You learn as much as you can about Estepona, say, rough hand-drawn maps prepared by your people can be copied for my Marine officers and the officers commanding the soldiers, and we plan how to go about it, one target at a time? Hmm,” Lewrie slowly grasped.
When he’d been a temporary Commodore in the Bahamas two years before, he knew nothing of what lay a stone’s throw behind the beaches and inlets of the coast of Spanish Florida, and he had rampaged up and down the shore like a blind pig rooting for truffles, sure only that there would be settlements round the inlets, and that there were towns marked on his copies of old Spanish charts. Mountjoy’s concept was a “horse of another feather” as his old Cox’n, Will Cony, would say. It was … bloody scientific!
“Damme, I like it, Mountjoy,” Lewrie exclaimed. “I love it!”
“I’ve been gathering information, already,” Mountjoy told him, “though I haven’t requested maps from my people, yet, but will do so, as soon as Cummings returns from his present trip.”
“Mountjoy, I swear you’re a bloody genius!” Lewrie whooped.
“Well, if you say so,” Mountjoy said, beaming.
More time in port, Lewrie happily contemplated; Then short, hard jabs at the Dons. Spread chaos and mayhem, in spades!
And when not pummelling the Spanish, there was a chance that he could dine at Pescadore’s more often, where Maddalena whoever-she-was complained that her keeper always took her, and learn more about her!