HMS Aurora: A Charles Mullins Novel (Sea Command Book 3) (4 page)

“Mister Sims here furnished us with the original. It was a love letter probably sent to a soldier at a depot outside London. It was found blowing in the weeds near a trash dump outside the gate, probably discarded by its recipient.”

There is a purpose for all this secrecy. Should any information concerning this mission be discovered by the enemy, the source of that leak might possibly be discovered by tracing the information gained from the several packets. If the enemy finds the place of danger, but not the number of people involved or the date, then we can trace the leak to source ‘C’, since none of the others would know the destination. If the enemy awaiting has learned all of the needed information, then it will likely have come from your ship, since you will be the only person entrusted with all of the data. So, on your return to your ship, Captain Mullins, you can see the need to safeguard these packets and the information inside.”

This information was discussed before the open wardroom window, and the atmosphere in the big wardroom was becoming very cold. All of the packets were placed on the table with a large sailcloth bag to carry them in. Mullins nervously began to open one of the packets, but a hand was placed on his and he was reminded again that they were not to be opened until out of sight of land.

“Captain Mullins” offered the spokesman, “we were told you were a steady type of officer who did his duty without error. If that is not true, you need to advise us now.”

This whole matter seemed rather twitchy to him and the captain was tempted to tell these people what to do with themselves. Should he do so, there was the probability he would lose the command of this fine ship. At this stage of his career, he could not afford any serious lapses.

Swallowing his pride, he assured the others he would maintain the security of the packets and as he started to take his leave, Mister Sims spoke. “There is nothing secret about this extra box I am placing in your bag. It contains merely a set of pistols, which I wish to be given to the person identified as the proper recipient. You are free to examine the weapons after reaching your ship. Please give them to the proper person though.”

His boat crew were all waiting up on the foredeck, frustrated and anxious after the long wait with no information gained. As soon as Mullins was seen on deck, the men dropped down into their boat and took it to the proper position below the man ropes down which their captain would descend. A bag containing the still sealed packets and the pistol case followed him down on a line.

At HMS Aurora, his crew was awaiting his return with barely concealed excitement. He did nothing to abate that interest, merely calling to Mister Midshipman Adolphus, who was overseeing a crew slushing down the standing rigging of the foremast with old grease skimmed from the galley’s cooking pots.

Handing the lad, the bag, he told him to stand by until he finished with the officers, then carry it to his cabin.

Mister Daley was standing by with anticipation, as were several others who could invent reasons to stand there with their ears flapping in the breeze.

“Mister Daley, are we ready in all respects to sail?” he asked.

The first officer replied that they were.

“Well then, sir. I need to take care of some things in the cabin. While I am doing that, I will thank you to signal the flag, asking permission to sail. You may inform the crew we are sailing under sealed orders from the Admiralty. We will proceed straight out into the Channel. Once out of sight of land, I may open my orders and determine our actual destination.”

In the cabin, Mullins removed the sealed packets from the bag and placed them in his desk and locked it. The pistol case he left on its top, while the orders were slipped into his coat pocket. Stepping back out on deck, he noticed the acknowledgement signal flying. Mister Daley hurried over and reported the flag had ordered Aurora to proceed and he had just acknowledged the signal.

“Then, Mister Daley, it would seem the thing to do is prepare to sail. We might wish to win the anchor first, though.”

Hands were called to man the capstan, and the end of the heavy anchor cable was fastened to the messenger cable with short lengths of line called nippers. The men at the capstan bars began pushing at their bars and the slack in the cable was slowly drawn up into the ship. The messenger cable ran between a large block and the capstan itself. Since the anchor cable was much too large to go around the capstan, it had to be seized to the messenger. Periodically, each nipper had to be freed and replaced farther along. Soon, enough cable had come aboard to have the cable end passed down through a hatch where it would go to the cable tier.

Boys, also called nippers, followed the cable as it was carried by the messenger, replacing the ties as needed and renewing them farther along. Soon, the easily gained slack was on board and it was now necessary to pull the ship against the anchor. Every hand on the ship was needed for this task and even Hudson, his clerk, was sent to lend his meager back to the task.

Topmen had been waiting their turn in the tops. When the bow of the ship was over the anchor, the master’s mate at the bow raised his arm and yelled, “At short stay!”

Mister Daley immediately ordered the topmen to release the topsails on the fore and main masts. There was much creaking and strain as the wind and capstan did their part to pull the anchor from its hold on the bottom, but just before Mullins thought the ship would be put aback, the anchor broke free and the ship pulled ahead. The master’s mate at the bow called out, ‘Anchor’s apeak!” and now the anchor cable came rapidly through the hawse. The ship was free.

Mullins left the ship to the first officer then stood by the helm where Sailing Master Davis was observing. Davis was a newly promoted former master’s mate. This would be his first commission as a duly warranted sailing master.

Addressing the master, Mullins ordered, “Mister Davis, we will proceed directly out into the Channel. When we can no longer see land, I will open my sealed orders and we will determine where we must go.”

With the ship running free, Mullins opted to go into the cabin to deal with some of the issues imposed upon him. Unable to deal with the sealed packets just yet, he decided to inspect the weapons. They were contained in a plain-looking box. It was necessary to use the tip of his sword to pry the top of the box loose and remove the contents.

They were strange looking weapons. Neither had a wooden stock, as was common. The barrels were turned round and screwed into an iron frame on which was also mounted the cock, pan and frizzen system as well as the trigger mechanism. The weapons’ grips were also made of iron, with filed checkering to improve the handling qualities. There was a small box containing balls, which were not really balls, but rather, conically shaped bullets. Another container held fat paper cartridges of powder.

Mullins could not quite understand how one was supposed to load this weapon. Holding one of the bullets against the muzzle, he could see the projectile seemed a bit too large to fit in the bore of the weapon. It would seem a heavy hammer would be required to pound a ball down the barrel, a slow and chancy business.

Peering down the clean barrel, rifling lands and grooves could be seen inside. No hammer was present in the box, but a strange looking spanner was present. With some trials, it was found the spanner fit exactly some flats filed into the side of the barrels. A little force on the spanner turned the barrel nearly halfway around, then the barrel pulled right out of the gun’s frame. The pistol barrel and receiver had an interrupted thread, allowing one to remove the barrel from the frame after turning it half a turn. Each barrel was fitted with a front and rear sight. Together with the sights and rifling, most unusual in pistols, these weapons had the potential of being very accurate pistols.

After a few moments study, Mullins discovered how one should load these unique weapons. One of the conical balls could be placed in the enlarged chamber at the base of the barrel, after it had been removed from the receiver. A paper cartridge could be placed behind it, and the barrel then screwed back into the gun. When fired, the force of the explosion would force the ball into the rifling, which would impart spin to the projectile.

Mullins reluctantly put the gun down when the Marine sentry repeated the first officer’s report the ship was out of sight of land.

Donning his coat and squaring his hat, he stepped out on deck. Looking about, he saw no signs of land.

The captain of HMS Aurora took his sealed orders out on the quarterdeck and called over his sailing master and first officer. Looking around, he asked these officers if land was in sight. Both assured him it was not.

Mullins opened the orders and read over them rapidly. “Gentlemen, it appears our immediate destination is the inlet of Lough Swilly, on the northwest coast of Ireland, near Tory Island. We will pick up a passenger there, then proceed to another destination. It would be best if our destination were not voiced aloud. Our mission is on the sensitive side.”

Mister Davis charted a course that would take them out of the Channel, then up the western coast of Ireland to their destination. This would take some time, so Mullins ordered the men get as much training as possible on the way, without hindering their progress.

Seeing Bob Archer in a working party under Bosun’s Mate Wilkins, he approached the petty officer and asked how the new lad was doing. Wilkins had just finished loudly telling Archer what a cack-handed, worthless piece of shit he was, good for nothing on land or sea, and he was a little shame-faced to discuss the boy’s merits to the captain. However, he was not one to put things off.

Shifting his quid to the other side of his mouth, he assured his captain, while Archer had a vast amount to learn, he thought the lad might be able someday to absorb what he needed to know.

Satisfied, Mullins ordered Archer be sent to his quarters, then went there himself. Hudson was there, at a little table that had been found for him. It had been the captain’s intention to have Hudson re-write all of the previously badly written documents that must eventually be turned in. He had considered it might take the remainder of the commission to accomplish this, but he had found the little man was now almost through.

When Archer was announced by the Marine sentry, he was called into the office, where Mullins introduced the clerk and Landsman Archer. Sitting behind his desk, he steepled his fingers and asked, “Hudson, it is in my mind to give Archer here, a temporary rating as midshipman. A problem exists, since Archer does not have his letters. I would like you to take him in hand and teach him to read and to write. Perhaps his sums as well. It may be that I will have you do the same for some other youngsters on the ship.

Hudson seemed dubious and Archer had an alarmed appearance on his face, but they had both been aboard ship long enough to realize it would not be wise to voice any protest. Both left the office and when Mullins next saw the pair, they both were up on the foredeck, Archer armed with a smooth-planed board and a piece of chalk, begged from the carpenter. Looking over their shoulders, Mullins saw that Hudson had chalked some letters on the board and Archer was trying to reproduce them.

Leaving the young men to their own devices, with the ship in the hands of Mister Daley, Mullins went back into the cabin to get the confounded secret packets sorted out. He opened each packet, arranging its contents separately on his desk. Each had a piece of torn, cheap paper, with juvenile writing scrawled on the surface. Also in each packet was several sheets of paper, covered with closely written text.

A cursory glance showed each covered a different subject. One concerned possible anchoring difficulties that might affect an attack on a coastal gun battery. A detailed discussion of the sea bottom in a particular harbor was mentioned. Another dwelt on poor road conditions in the interior that could interfere with the visit of an important French personage. All of this confusing information was more than he wished to deal with at the moment. He locked the documents in his desk and went out on deck to oversee the guns that were now being run out.

By the time they had rounded Munster in the south of Ireland and were sailing up the island’s western coast, Hudson had taught Archer the greater part of the alphabet, and Mister Davis had augmented the class with a few of the more useless younger midshipmen. One of these was Peter Whitbread, a young lad whore parent had been attempting to place him on one of Mullin’s ships ever since he had gained his commission.

It was only after the recent highway robbery attempt on the Whitbread vehicle that Mullins had felt impelled to take the boy on. No more useless boy had ever gone to sea, was the opinion of both the captain and sailing master.

Surprisingly though, the boy had been in the rigging, for hours every day, learning the trade. Before coming to sea, he had been well-schooled ashore and Mister Hudson had to do little work with him. Mullins had begun to use the youngster to pen various documents pertaining to the ship’s business, while Hudson was busy with his schoolboys.

After a few weeks at sea, even the most particular aboard were beginning to respect this latest group of midshipmen. All were required to go aloft every day to spend their time in the tops, before tending to their assigned duties. It was the captain’s intent that every midshipman should be able to perform the duties of an able seaman. By the time HMS Aurora reached Tory Island, almost every midshipman aboard the sloop was able to earn his keep in the rigging.

Mullins remained on deck after noon sights when he realized the ship would be reaching Lough Swilly within a matter of hours. Reading over his orders again, he found their prospective passenger was instructed to approach any ship flying the ‘Blue Peter’ signal flag upon entrance to a harbor. This was a standard signal flag and Aurora had several such blue flags with white square centers in her signal locker. Mister Adolphus clipped one of them to the signal halyard and sent it aloft.

Shortly after entering Lough Swilly, a shore boat with a pair of oarsmen, but with no other passengers, began making its way toward them. At the same time, an armed cutter in the harbor, flying a naval pennant and a number indicating she was HM Cutter Oyster, Lieutenant Andrews, dropped her launch into the water, and a powerful naval crew began to overtake the fleeing craft.

Mullins ordered his own launch manned, which was soon being powered her way toward the fleeing shore boat. Since the two launches were close to being equals, the shore boat seemed likely to be taken by Aurora’s boat, since the two were closing. Aurora’s launch did meet the shore boat a pistol shot’s distance from Oyster’s boat. The ensuing argument between Oyster’s boat and Aurora’s was only silenced when Aurora approached and the deck officer ordered the hands in the shore boat aboard.

Two people climbed Aurora’s port beam. The leader seemed to be a skilled seaman of about fifty, appearing as an assertive adult male rather than a fugitive. The other was a lad of perhaps fourteen or fifteen, who seemed to be quite un-nerved to find himself climbing the flank of one of His Majesty’s warships.

The pair was met by Mister Daley. Before Daley could ask their business, the elder doffed his cap and spoke, “Seaman Dooley, come aboard to join, sir.”

When Daley glanced at the lad with a questioning look, Dooley said, “Him too, sir. He’s Patrick O’Denny. Doesn’t look like much but he’s been crew on fishing boats nigh on two years, now.”

The first officer, knowing the ship had a full complement, looked at his captain for guidance. Mullins beckoned Dooley aside and asked him if he had anything to show him, a bit of paper, perhaps?”

Dooley rummaged in his smock and pulled out a tattered scrap, seemingly a mate to the others Mullin s had seen thus far.

“Very well, Dooley. I will speak to you in the cabin. What about the boy. Has he any knowledge of what we are about to discuss?”

“No sir. I was standing by myself on the quay when I saw your Blue Peter. I couldn’t puzzle out how I was to get out to the ship, though. That cutter, Oyster’ has been hanging around this inlet since the French tried to invade. She is short of men, so whenever she sees someone that looks like a seaman, she tries to ‘press him.”

“The boy, I think, was involved in some of the recent doings, and does not want to come to the attention of the Redcoats. A boat was handy on the shore, and I thought with the two of us pulling, we might be able to make it out to you before Oyster ran us down.”

Mullins went to his desk and brought out the torn scraps of cheap paper and assembled them. The four pieces from the packets supplied to him with the single piece given him separately, made up most of a sheet pf paper. One piece on the bottom edge was missing, however. Dooley handed over his scrap, and the paper fit right into the gap. The old love letter, found blowing in the wind near a trash dump was now complete.

“Very well, Mister Dooley, now that we have decided you are to join us, please tell me what you can.”

Dooley thought for a moment, then began. “My full name is Ronald Dooley. At one time, back in the American War, I served on HMS Ramillies as a master’s mate. After the war, I removed to France for a few years and operated a business. Later, when matters began to become bloody there, I returned to Ireland, at first becoming interested in Irish independence. When I learned of the part the French Army was to play in that endeavor though, I separated from the more radical individuals, and began supplying information to what few reasonable British officials I thought I could trust.”

“My motive was to attempt to bring Irish rule to the country, with a nominal attachment to the British Crown. I thought that would be the best plan that could be arranged. Unfortunately, too many individuals on each side had their opinions set in stone and were unwilling to compromise. I found it necessary to disassociate myself with these people and have for some months been working for an intelligence agency run by the British Admiralty.”

Mullins thought over what he had just heard. Now that he had a chance, he thought this might be a good time to find what all this secrecy, with letter scraps, secret packets and the like, was all about.

When asked, Dooley laughed. “It is all a crock of shit. There have been leaks in the Admiralty all along, with important projects announced to the press before the ink was dry. In the matter facing us, only a few men were involved. Nothing has been leaked yet, but one of my conspirators dreamed up this plan where vast amounts of mythical information was compartmentalized. Supposedly, these ‘compartments’ were tagged with identification markers, so if information did leak, it could be traced to the proper individuals. Neither of us need to concern ourselves over these torn letter fragments. They have nothing to do with the real purpose.”

Exasperated at all the wasted effort, Mullins wondered, “Well, Mister Dooley, just what is the real purpose?”

Dooley chuckled, “As to that, nothing more or less than First Consul Napoleon Bonaparte, himself. I intend to kill him.”