Thunder On the Sea: A Tim Phillips novel (War at Sea Book 11) (11 page)

Wishing to deliver his captive slaves to freedom in Sierra Leone as soon as possible, HMS Mastiff set course for that destination. During a spell of fine weather, Phillips went aboard the prize to examine the situation.

He had Mister Devons, a master’s mate, commanding the prize with Fellowes assisting him, along with a few seamen and a file of Marines. Sergeant Henderson was in charge of keeping their passengers in order. Surviving members of the slave ship’s crew were put in their own irons and chained below. At first, the Marines stowed the former crew members in the same compartment as some of their victims, but this did not work well. There was continual commotion as the Blacks shouted threats in all the languages of western and central Africa and did their best to free themselves so as to get at their former persecutors.

He had initially tried to remove shackles from several of the slaves but these men, not understanding, tried to seize muskets from his men. The shackles were quickly restored. Phillips agreed with his Devon’s actions, deciding to allow the shore-side people at Sierra Leone to explain matters to their new citizens.

It was possible to relieve conditions below decks a bit. With so few people aboard this big ship, it was not necessary to crowd its passengers into a small space. The previous crew, planning on loading hundreds more people, had jammed the present fifty into a corner of the mid-ship hold, where they were acutely uncomfortable. With some effort, individuals were freed from their shackles and moved to a separate area of the hold.

With the people spread out more, it was possible for them to have just the slightest bit of extra comfort. Noticing several of the Blacks making pantomime motions, he asked Fellowes what was the difficulty.

“They’re hungry, sir. We’re trying to boil up some of their rations, but they don’t seem to like them much.” After inspecting the un-appetizing gruel simmering in the big pot, Phillips, after a taste, decided he didn’t care that much for the food himself. “What is this? Phillips asked.

“Ground millet”, replied Felloes. ‘

“That is what they feed the slaves around here. The trouble is, some of these people come from areas where millet is not grown, or else they have a different variety.”

After some discussion, some of the beef that had been soaking for tomorrow’s meal for Mastiff’s crew was diced up into small pieces and tossed into the gruel. Two bags of ship’s biscuit were brought over also. This was rather fresh, having been baked in Spanish ovens just a few weeks before and had not had nearly enough time to gain the expected population of weevils.

While still strange to the captive’s palate, the people did at least eat this food. There were some women and even a few children in chains and Phillips ordered them freed. They were given a section of the foredeck and supplied with water and more biscuit. When no difficulty arose, several of the calmer-appearing men were also freed from their chains. All went well until one well-built man yanked the unlocked chain from the grasp of the seaman who had freed him and proceeded to beat another captive, this one still locked up.

There was turmoil on deck until the crew of seamen and Marines got the chain away from the man and tied him down to ringbolts on the deck. When calm was restored, Phillips asked Fellowes, now sporting some angry looking wounds himself, if he knew what the fight was about.

Fellowes was not sure, but felt some of the blame must be held by the Arab traders that travelled around to the various tribal areas. These men, well-armed with muskets, of which most tribesmen were deathly afraid, would come to a village and negotiate with the tribal chief. This leader would be offered payment in muskets and ammunition if he would supply the traders with healthy people to take away. These could be from his own tribe, those the chief was perhaps having differences with, or they could be from a neighboring tribe.

At any rate, men and women would disappear down the trail, never to be seen again. Unless, perhaps those same traders convinced another group to take their revenge for the terrible injustice perpetrated, by seizing those perpetrators of the first crime. Soon, the entire region would be in turmoil as populations strived to find where their loved ones had gone, and took vengeance on those they deemed responsible.

Those muskets, for which the chieftains traded their best young people to gain, did them little good. Generally cast-off weapons, left over from the wars in Europe, they were often inoperable from the start. Even if the weapons did function some of the time, the ammunition was often damaged from poor storage, and it would be unusual for any individual musket to fire.

Suspicion was rampant among the peoples, all wondering if this neighbor or even relative had had anything to do with the disappearance of a beloved family member.

Phillips had no idea of how to solve the matter. He only knew, so long as some humans were willing to purchase other humans to do their work for them, slavery was bound to endure, laws or no laws.

Taking their departure from Freetown in Sierra Leone, after off-loading the freed captives, HMS Mastiff sailed back to inspect the little port where she had been so successful weeks before. Finding the place empty, ship and crew continued south, for another, larger port Fellowes was familiar with.

Unable to sleep in the sweltering heat, Phillips was nattering on the quarterdeck with his first officer. Mister Burns had casually wondered what might have happened to the crew of the slaver they had captured. Apparently the men had been attending some sort of negotiating conference with the local chieftain when their ship vanished.

Fellowes was at the helm when the question aired. Normally, hands at work were expected to ignore casual conversation among the officers and continue with their duty. Apparently, Fellowes felt, at this moment, he could express his own opinion without suffering any consequences.

“Sir”, Fellowes began. “By now, I imagine the captain and the crew with him are now well on their way to North Africa.”

Curious, Phillips wondered why North Africa would be their new destination.

“Sir, that chieftain and the Arab traders make a living buying and selling slaves. The Arabs will no doubt sell their coffle to the chief, but they will still need bearers to carry off the other items of trade they have. Ivory, palm oil and the like. They could just keep some of the Blacks to do that work, but here in the village they find a party of stranded whites who have lost their ship. Why not buy these men from the chieftain and use them to carry their trade goods north?”

“But why buy white slaves? Who would buy them later on?’” questioned Mister Burns.

“Oh sir, The Arab slavers do not worry about little things such as the color of skin when doing business. Up north, near the Med, the Arabs hold whites by the thousands, using them as they do with other slaves. Men, women and children who have been taken from pirated ships the Moorish rovers have seized. Some pirates go raiding European towns and villages close to shore to obtain slaves to sell in their markets. The captain of the slave ship will fit right in there, working alongside with slaves from every European nation as well as Africa and even Asia.

Continuing south, the brig entered a large bay, with a number of tributaries flowing into it. Using his glass, Phillips could see native huts by the score on shore, and even an impressive stone-built fort. Fellowes commented, “The fort was built by Portuguese ages ago. They have left long since and now a local prince holds the place. There are embrasures for guns on the battlements, but someone carried the guns off long since.”

He continued. “They probably are not needed. The prince has thousands of native soldiers under his command and these men are not afraid of their muskets, and know how to use them. Any European power attempting to take the place would find it hard going.”

“The market place for buying slaves is inside the fort. One needs to approach the fort by boat, landing on the beach in front. It is considered good form to carry a present to the prince with you when you visit.”

Phillips decided he did not really need to meet with the prince. He certainly was not about to give him any kind of present. Just looking about the anchorage, he could see several ships that looked as though they might be in the ‘Blackbirding’ business. These, except for one, were capacious looking merchant vessels.

That one though, was a deadly looking ship that he was sure had been built in a French shipyard as one of the 40 gun ‘Minerve’ class frigates. He knew in French service the frigate would have carried eighteen-pounder guns in her main batteries as well as eight-pounders up forward and aft. There was of course no way HMS Mastiff could face such a fully armed frigate.

However, if the ship had been sold out of France’s naval service and stripped down to carry slaves, the conditions were altered. A slave ship could not carry both a large crew and a large cargo of human captives simultaneously. Too, when she served as a French cruiser during the war, she needed large numbers of personnel to man her guns and to fight the ship.

The space needed for all of these people would now be used for their cargo. With their captive cargo jammed together and tightly secured, there was little need for large numbers of men to guard them. And, of course, there was little room on deck for the big guns. Perhaps a few eight-pounders on the quarterdeck and a few more up forward as protection against local marauders and pirates.

He made a tentative decision to pay close attention to this former frigate. Fully laden, she could carry more slaves than any of the other smaller ships visible in the harbor, and probably deliver them faster. Wishing to learn as much as possible about the ship, he gave orders that the officer of every watch should endeavor to keep a glass trained on the ship at all times.

It was Devons, commanding the anchor watch, who sent Mister Lewis, a fourteen year old mid to wake him in the middle watch. Lewis, warned by his peers of the horrible punishments liable to be inflicted upon him if he erred, was terrified, but did his duty. Not quite understanding the incoherent explanation of the mid, Phillips arose anyway and went out onto the quarterdeck.

Devons met him with his glass and silently indicated the former frigate, moored nearby. Phillips accepted the glass but could make out nothing alarming on the ship. It was showing rather more lights than was its custom, but Phillips could discern nothing alarming about that. Almost intending to blister the young man’s ears for waking him uselessly, he instead sent Mister Lewis back to his quarters to retrieve his own private night glass, an instrument with superior light-gathering powers.

The faint creaking of strained tackle coming across the water caused Phillips to pay extra attention to his efforts. Puzzled, he handed his glass to Lewis to learn if the lad’s young eyes could identify what was going on.

It took the boy some time to come to grips with the upside-down image, but when the lad seemed comfortable, Phillips asked him what he was seeing.

“Sir, it looks like they are lowering a gun using tackle from the main yard into a boat.”

With the class in his hands again, it was obvious the midshipman was correct. As he watched, the gun settled into the boat, and the tackle loosened. The boat then headed straight for the stone fortress. Later that night, another gun was seen being pulled from a hatch and also lowered into a boat.

Phillips returned to his bed with the thought in his mind, just what were these people up to with these guns. Next morning, he believed he had an answer. From one of the formerly empty embrasures of the fortress, there now appeared the muzzle of a gun.

Later, that same afternoon, a half dozen native canoes set out from the village, taking them to visit every ship in the harbor. At length, one of those canoes reached the brig and a dignitary aboard shouted up a proclamation. This was shouted out in several different languages, none of which the messenger could speak well. After the matter was discussed with the various deck officers, it was determined unless a ship could pay 10 gold pieces every day to the prince holding the castle, guns in that castle would open fire on that ship.

It was Fellowe’s opinion the prince of the fortress had demanded two guns from the former frigate as the price of her stay in the harbor. Having no desire to enter into a dispute with a local potentate, HMS Mastiff pulled up her anchor and set sail.

She cruised offshore for a few days, before learning from another departing ship that the big frigate, having loaded every last slave aboard that she could, was also about to sail. Now well out of sight of land, she launched the longboat. 

Giving the command to Mister Fellowes, its lugsail was set and it commenced a southerly cruise just within sight of the African coast. HMS Mastiff ran farther out, just within signaling range of the boat. Nothing was seen for the next day, then the launch opened its dark lantern that night. Only a sharp-eyed lookout spotted the tiny flicker of light from that lantern. Mastiff edged to port and picked up her boat the next morning. It was then a tiny notch was seen ahead in the horizon. This Phillips suspected might be their quarry. The ships seemed evenly matched at first, then it seemed as though the brig might be slowly gaining.

There were plenty of other ships in these waters, some of whom Phillips was sure were slavers. He did not pay undue attention to any of them and the chase seemed unconcerned. By noon sights, it was evident the chase was indeed the former frigate. As Mastiff spread her canvas, the chase alerted to her pursuer. She too, hoisted all the sail she could bear, but was unable to sail away from the brig.

To gain an extra half knot speed increase, Phillips decided to get rid of some of his water. Accordingly, some of the big water butts were opened and the water allowed to pour into the bilges. Then, relays of men on the pumps sent that water overside.

Water also was seen coming out of the scuppers of the chase, but Mister Burns shook his head and gravely announced, “They cannot pump too much water overside, not with hundreds of slaves packed below decks.”

The words had hardly escaped his lips when the chase proved him wrong. Through his glass, Burns could see the mass of men struggling on the deck of the chase. Apparently, a dozen captives, their shackles connected by a chain, had been brought up on deck. Now, the slaver’s crewmen were herding them at the points of cutlasses and pikes to the rail. The first few fell over, their weight pulling down their comrades with them. A moment later, all were overboard, with no sign of any bodies on the sea’s surface. The weight of the chain and shackles had drawn the victims right down.

As they watched, another group of shackled slaves came on deck. This time, Phillips ordered the ship put about. He was not about to be involved in a mass murder just to capture a slave ship.

The crew of Mastiff watched as the slaver continued on her way, unhindered. Phillips summoned Mister Devons, his master’s mate and Mister Fellowes, his quartermaster’s mate and local expert and asked them into the cabin.

“Gentlemen, I am open to suggestions on finding the slaver that escaped us today. Now, both of us pumped overboard a significant amount of water. I believe it will be more significant to the slaver, since she has a long voyage ahead of her and many more people. Where will that ship go to fill her water butts?”

Neither man had any input. As Fellowes said, “Sir, there are any number of rivers and streams coming to the sea along this coast. Granted, there are few enough anchorages that will take that frigate, but he can stand off and send a boat in to fill casks. I just could not guess where we might find him.”

Deciding to tend to his own ship, Phillips checked the charts and set course for the mouth of a nearby river. It was apparent there had once been a sizeable community there but now the huts were empty and falling in, with the fields well overgrown.. Fellowes guessed that a slave hunting party had visited this area and captured or frightened off the whole population. 

At any rate, the boat crew that towed the empty water casks to the site found an unlimited supply of fresh water. The casks were scrubbed out with sand and freshwater, then filled and towed back out to the ship. When she left on the second day, Mastiff had all the water she would need for the next few months.