turn 6

There is a law among storytellers, originally passed by editors at the cries (they say) of their constituency, which states that stories of the Sea must have ships in them. Wooden ships by preference, but anything smelling faintly of brine will do at a pinch; even a big whale, or a white shark. This story is no exception; indeed, I’m very much afraid I might have overdone it, since my narrative also includes soldiers, sailors, spys and a great many other things of a more or less nautical nature, including the Herr Geheimrat Clementius von Clausewitz, Pilot-in-Chief of the Pappenburg Navy, at present on a confidential mission to the Court of St. James. Just now, we can see him on the quarterdeck of HMS Swiftsure, talking agitatedly to her captain ”I’ve been Pilot-in-Chief for thirty years, and never did a drop of salt water wet the silver buckles of my shoes. And I’ve never been good at reading maps. This is actually my first attempt, but if I’d ever tried it before, I don’t suppose I would have made much of a fist of it then!”. A cogent argument, but not very much help in getting HMS Swiftsure off the sandbank where she had run aground during the last quarter of the low tide, right under the guns of the batteries guarding the entrance to Copenhagen harbour. In return, the captain grumbles something about ”half-assed bloody civilian capers”, orders the gunner to fill more powder for the salute (thirteen guns, and on a Friday too) and resumes his solitary walking on the holy windward side of the quarterdeck, leaving GS to explain to their distinguished guest that ”her timbers were quite sound – could take the strain with props to shore her up – no damage at all – have her afloat again as soon as the high tide sets in!”. This she does in due course, and the cry of ”all hands make sail” cuts short GS’s attempt to point out Elsinore castle (and Hamlet’s grave) after a somewhat hesitant rendering of the opening lines of the prince’s famous soliloquy.
The Herr Geheimrat is very much impressed; and half an hour later GS is called into the captain’s cabin to receive an acting order and to assume the rank of Brevet Lieutenant. The same cry of ”all hands make sail” also recalls her 2nd Lieutenant and a party who had set out in boats after a flock of eider geese. They had bagged three score and six birds, and in Copenhagen the 2nd Lieutenant ells the feathers to a pillow merchant for 600 Guineas plus a flattering letter from the Copenhagen Chamber of Commerce (NA+1).

Meanwhile, London is in an uproar – or at least that part of London that makes up Whitehall, the Horse Guards and Downing Street (with the House of Parliament thrown in for good measure). Tales of the presence of no less than four spies (one in the pay of the French, two employed by the Dutch and one freelance Irishman) hush many an official gathering and a few unofficial ones (even in Covent Garden the revellers are more quiet that usual). Rumours of a Spanish / Dutch squadron sailing up the Bay of Biskay cause several important sphincters to tighten involuntarily until their owners give order to recall HMS Droits de L’Homme and HMS Sheik Yassouf to London. Unfortunately, this leaves only the Blockade squadron to confront La Paloma, a Spanish 1st rate of 102 guns, as well as Waterzooi and Het Zoorge, two Dutch 74s. Despite the disparity of strength the British ships aquit themselves nobly. HMS Salisbury (whose captain was the most senior) throws out a signal to let the enemy keep the weather gage, thus preventing them to run out their heaviest guns. At the beginning of the engagement a lucky shot from HMS Surprise hits La Paloma‘s stern below the water line, breaking one of her rudder pintles. The Spanish ship immediately begins to steer wild and drift to leewards. The British ships keep peppering the Dutch from a distance (luckily all of them are equipped with 12-pounder guns rather than 24-pounder carronades), firing in the French manner. All British ships except HMS Surprise, whose captain sees at once that the Spaniard’s drift must bring her to the lee of the British squadron, catching it between two fires (and with La Paloma able to run out the 36 lb. guns in her lower tier). Accordingly HMS Surprise signals her intention to tack, to lay herself in front of the Spanish ship and to concentrate her fire on the foremast. With consumate seamanship (aided by the Spaniard’s inability to steer properly) HMS Surprise stays out of the way of the enemy’s guns whenever La Paloma yawed, always coming back to cross the Spaniard’s bow and to fire at the foremast. At close quarters even a twelve pound ball does considerable harm to a mast, however strong, and finally it breaks, taking La Paloma out of action (no spares). This brilliant display of seamanship is handsomely rewarded: The Dutch break off the engagement and turnsback to aid their comrade-in-arms. When the news of the fight reached London, fireworks are let off, and the people dance in the streets. Issues of The Gazette sell like hot cakes – the captain of HMS Surprise gets promoted and mentioned on the front page (as well as in dispatches), her 1st Lieutenant gets promoted as well (but no mention), and even JWK (who slept through the whole engagement curled up in one of the big cables) is mentioned on page six (below the ”help wanted” section). The same issue of the Gazette also announces the promotion of the captain of HMS Salisbury on page 2, and on page 3 it prints a passenger’s letter to the editor, taking particularly notice of the 1st Lieutenant of HMS Sauve Qui Peut.

Off Zeebrugge, the wind continues to freshen during the forenoon watch, promising squalls later in the day. At the wheel, PDA has his work cut out conning HMS Mars through the shoals and is mentioned in dispatches for his seamanship. AG spends most of his time closeted with a Dutch gent who has come aboard during the night (three bells in the middle watch) with a bulging briefcase. Noon came, and no dinner; No grog either. At two bells in the first dogwatch HMS Mars lets fall her anchor in the middle of nowhere and AG (with the Dutch gent) takes a party to the shore, where a tree stump breaks the regular outline of the sand dunes. The men start to dig and - lo and behold - the stump turns out to be the mast of a ship! It is the French sloop Gloire, presumed lost after a brief engagement off Desmouils in ’83. The mysterious Dutchman and AG go down into her hold, where they find a consignment of ’78 Chateaux Margaux (with the long cork) wonderfully preserved and perfectly drinkable. When the Duch gent insists on remaining anonymous, AG reluctantly steps forth to accepts a purse of 1,200 Guineas and a congratulatory letter from the Bordeaux Wine Merchants Organisation.
From Ushant to Scilly ‘tis thirty-five leagues ... and HMS Belle Poule plies them up and down, up and down. Not a sail on the horizon, no merchantman, no Brittany smugler, no Deal boat. FF has been unable to lay in stores at the beginning of the journey and he as well as the gunroom are down to regular Navy fare, hard tack and beef, when the Admiralty cutter catches up with them. No stores either, but two sacks of mail. FF has a double-franked letter from Pamela and another from Ireland, both of them good news: Pam sends her undying love, and the other letter informs him that he has won 1,800 Guineas in the Irish Sweepstakes!!

Issue 3 by J.C.

Double Happiness!

"Chinese Weeks" it said in big copperplate over the entrance to Lloyd's this month, followed by a set of delicate, exotic characters hardly anyone in London could read - curiously written from top to bottom. Always attracted to the exotic, as well as free G & G (grog and grub), flocks of London’s brave seamen went to Lloyds to investigate - greeted by Tyler Brock, dressed in a fine blue Shantung silk jacket with many small buttons, black silken pantaloons and his long black pigtail - to the surprise and disgust of many a seaman - freshly washed! At his side, as always, the radiant Diana Villiers - also dressed in strange garb: a long, high-collar silken dress in red, tailored to sit close to her perfect figure and embroidered with little golden serpent-like dragons. The dress was floor-long yet high sliced, so Wayne Kin-Madley caught a long look at Diana’s well-shaped legs as she walked them in, before catching a meaningful dig from Emma.
The inside of the club was decorated in red and gold, which big golden characters Tyler translated as "double happiness" decorating the walls. The smell of incense and tobacco, as well as other substances, hung in the air and two young girls with black hair, golden skin and black, slanted eyes wearing dresses similar to Diana’s (yet it would seem deliberately less sophisticated, and unavoidably less filled) handed the visitors a strange liquor called "Maotai", as well as "Tsingtao Beer" and lots of exotic little dishes and seafood. Wayne took a sip of the Maotai and stared at the food, aghast. Chicken feet? Duck tongue? Chicken hearts and liver, and a soup made up of seaweed and chicken throats? Surely Tyler was out of his mind... but then again, he is always keen for new cultural experiences and after all, it was free. He waved for another bottle of "Tsingtao" and cheered the host. John Doe (who on arrival presented his host with an exquisite watch as a token of gratitude for the party) was glad he had his knife available, as Tyler seemed to have forgotten to prepare cutlery for the food. The exotic girls, called "Li Lin" and "Wang Wei", only put a pair of wooden sticks next to the rice and duck, which Tyler seemed to use for eating - showing a skill that few others were able to grasp. Jonah Albytross on the other hand found them quite handy to clean the wax out of his ears.
Tyler seemed to be in a generous mood, as he stretched out the party to last the whole month, and has proven to London society to be an excellent host who certainly knows how to entertain. The guests came and went (some more than once), only he stayed, and Diana had a different dress every evening. Your Gazette reporter, pleasantly smoking an Opium pipe, couldn't help but ask Tyler how he was able to arrange all this, especially the two Chinese girls, but Tyler only smiled and said "Brock and Sons, China traders since 1770..."

Elsewhere this month, Wayne Kin-Madley is single-handedly attempting to raise the cultural levels of his fellow City Dwellers as he was seen collecting Jonah Albytross, accompanied by Agnes Nutter, in his coach and whisking them away for a night at the Opera where he had arranged a private box for Emma and his guests. Agnes was enthralled, but Jonah emerged from the Opera House with a slightly puzzled expression. When asked how he found the experience he told us “Well it’s not very realistic, is it. I mean some bloke gets stabbed, and instead of dying, he sings! Doesn’t make sense to me.”
Business south of the river is still brisk, with regular visitors John Doe and “Madam’s favourite” John O’Groats both paying visits this week. The word in Southwark at the moment is that John O has recently been asking for reduced rates for regular customers – what will he think of next. Unfortunately for both Johns their frequent visits seem to have been noted by the less salubrious members of the community as both were robbed before they reached the bridges returning north. As this has happened to John D before he took the wise precaution of spending all his money before hand and therefore had nothing to loose. John O on the other hand had so far managed to avoid such confrontations and, not having the experience of John D, lost all that he had on him.
The Club membership books are still filling up with John Doe joining Red Coats and Jonah Albytross signing on at the Pit. But it was John O’Groats who made the boldest move this month by signing on at the East India Company and requesting a 6-month berth! Exotic climes await. News spread fast and Jonah felt that he would quite like a slice of the action too and raced around to the offices only to find that they had closed up for the day. He was last seen sleeping on the doorstep so as to get his application in early as the next ship leaves at the beginning of next month.

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On a more serious note it is with great sorrow that we have been asked to pass on news of the death of the father of Wayne Kin-Madley, Barr. Barr Kin-Madley was a well-respected and successful merchant – he will be missed. He leaves behind a widow, Pore, and second son, Farr. Our thoughts are with the family at this difficult time. Funeral arrangements are yet to be made.

Ladies and Gentlemen of London, I was musing the other day that London does not seem to be a swinging city at present. Where, I thought, are the parties, the Grand Galas and the ‘Events to be seen at’ ? Then I thought further. ‘Wayne’, I said to myself, (for that is in fact my name,) but I digress. ‘Wayne, you are as guilty as anyone and more guilty than most; you have the funds to throw a party but you have not done so.’ I now intend to set this right…..! You are all cordially invited to join myself and the lovely Emma at a party to be held at my club (The Pit) on the second week of next month. Food and drink will be provided and there is no excuse not to attend – unless you are out fighting to defend King and Country in which case ‘God Bless and protect you sir and I will happily buy you a drink on your return’. Emma and I will endeavour to greet each of you as you arrive and will be circulating in order to try to make new friends and renew old friendships. There will be entertainment – if such can be arranged at short notice – and I hope that you will all put aside any inter-ship rivalry and join us for a celebration of life, love and not being French.