H.M.S Valor Read online

  Their days were long and miserable and nights just as horrid. After a few days the occupants of the ship grew more accustomed to the perpetual motion and the sea sickness lessened slightly. Any prisoner who resisted anything from the crew was beaten savagely, any prisoner who died was unceremoniously dumped overboard. LeMeux, after days of caring for Omibwe and bringing him into relative good health had formed a bond with the young man. The two had spent many hours talking in LeMeux’s cramped quarters, broadening one another’s perspectives and knowledge both to pass time and out of genuine interest. LeMeux’s elementary grasp on Omibwe’s native language deepened to the point he could communicate conversationally with him after the first week. Omibwe’s leg was healing well and LeMeux was beginning to fear that the ship’s captain would demand he be placed into the cells with the rest of the African prisoners.

  Omibwe’s strength returned to him, day by day, aided in great part that Dr. Lemeux was giving him the majority of his own rationed food in addition to the sparse rations he was allowed by their captors. Lemeux fashioned him an improvised crutch with a board he managed to barter away from one of the ship’s carpenters and some ragged clothes he had been instructed to use as bandage. It took several attempts and with much assistance from the doctor, Omibwe could manage to move about the very small cabin. Omibwe and his French doctor grew ever closer through the experience. LeMeux promised the young man that he would take him up the passageway to see his family at the first opportunity and despite Omibwe’s general distrust of everything due to his recent trauma, he believed his doctor.

  LeMeaux awoke on the first particularly rough night at sea with his new patient. They had been sailing for ten days and were getting into larger rolling waves. Omibwe was awake, visibly scared out of his wits, pouring sweat and weeping. He had been sick onto the floor and was sitting up, bracing himself on the wall and the edge of the slab he lay on. LeMeaux tried to calm him but Omibwe began to call out for his mother. Fearing the crew would hear and knowing they would react horribly, LeMeux tried a different approach.

  “Have I told you about mermaids?” LeMeux asked, desperate to draw the young man’s attention to anything but the heaving ship and rolling seas.

  “No.” Omibwe replied, “What is a mermaid?”

  “Oh, you have never heard of mermaids. You are in luck man; I know all about them. I can tell you about them if you’d like.”

  “Tell me.” Omibwe answered, still visibly tense but now interested, LeMeux could see.

  “The mermaids are an ancient people. Mermaids and mermen, keepers of the sea. The Mermaids, from the waist up are the most beautiful women you could ever imagine. Their bottom halves are like sea creatures, a tail like a dolphin.” said Lemeux keeping eye contact with Omibwe. He could see he had piqued the young man’s interest. Of course, he thought to himself, all young men like hearing about beautiful women.

  “Have you seen one?” Omibwe asked the doctor, unsure of what he was being told.

  “I have my friend and I will tell you. They certainly are beautiful creatures. Kind and beautiful. They love sailing men, in fact, they often trail behind ships like this.” LeMeux continued, now with the young African’s full attention, “Mermaids have been known to rescue sailors that have fallen overboard in foul weather. They will pull them to shore and sing them sweet songs. Many sailors have stories of rescue from mermaids.”

  “I know how to swim, my father and I dive in the sea from our village, but Anaya, she doesn’t know how yet.” Omibwe said, visibly becoming upset again mentioning his sister. Quickly, LeMeux sought to redirect his attention.

  “Oh, she will be fine Omi,” LeMeux said, using the shorthand name he had taken to calling his patients, “This ship is big and sturdy and built for far fouler weather than this.” At this mention, Omibwe seemed to ease and the conversation slowed until LeMeux looked over when Omibwe had paused and saw his companion had fallen back to sleep.

  LeMeux felt pangs of guilt for spinning this yarn to the naive young man. He felt many things about this situation. Powerless to stop what was happening and guilty for being a part of the society that was allowing and enabling it. He felt dread for Omibwe and his family, he dreaded their future and what it held. He was developing a kinship with the young African and felt a fondness for his family in the cell just up the passageway. Sorting through these thoughts and feelings, LeMeux tried to think of a way he could help. To interfere with the journey meant a swift and certain death at the hands of the crew, Mr. Sprague in particular would take joy in killing him. Escape for the Africans aboard was a futile endeavor, they were too far from shore for even the strongest swimmer to survive, plus the African coast was notorious for its population of sharks. Escape near their destination would be similarly impossible, they would all be in no shape to swim anywhere by that point of the voyage. These thoughts drifted LeMeux into a restless and fitful sleep and even unconscious, the gears of his mind ground away towards a plan to reinstate freedom to them all.

  H.M.S. Valor

  11 Aug 1808

  48 Degrees 36’N, 7 Degrees 27’W

  The routine of sailing in a Royal Navy frigate had settled in, the sailors were familiar with their battle quarters and becoming more and more proficient in the drill of clearing for action. Lieutenant Pike had exhibited leadership ability and technical prowess in training many of the new hands. He had led the gun batteries in drill twice daily since departing, dry runs early in the day and live fire in the evening. The ship’s combat abilities had improved dramatically in the short time since their departure. Captain Grimes demanded a very high standard and while they were not quite there, even he would admit, the crew was well on their way and on the right heading. A week of drill and discipline had laid a foundation for the newest of the crew and the experienced hands let none slack, knowing the captain would accept nothing other than excellence.

  Lieutenant Pike had just come off his watch, he stood midnight to four bells as a matter of principle, after seeing the oncoming watch settled in, he made his way below to get some rest. It felt as if he had just laid himself into his hammock, almost before the slack was out of the lines suspending it from the timbers of the ship when a midshipman appeared in the berthing.

  “Lieutenant Cobb’s compliments Sir. He has requested your presence on the quarterdeck.”

  “Alright Mr. Shelton, I’ll be along.” William responded, biting down a flare of temper and wondering what could possibly be worth preventing his sleep in the pitch dark of night. He slipped his pants and shoes back on, grabbed his coat and headed back topside. Once on the quarterdeck, William immediately noted the wind had remained steady, sea conditions had not changed enough to note, perhaps the swells were even a bit smaller.

  “Mr. Cobb, what seems to be the issue?” he asked, mindfully keeping an even tone with the junior lieutenant.

  “I heard a bell that wasn’t ours Sir, out of place like, and when I went forward to look, I swear I saw a light for a moment.” Cobb replied in a hurried, hushed tone. The implication that they could be in that close of a proximity to another ship sent a chill up and down both men. William immediately turned to the petty officer on watch.

  “No bells or whistles, no calls, pass the word.” William instructed, “Quietly now, no shouts, no calls and douse all lanterns.”

  “Aye Sir,” the petty officer responded and immediately began passing word to each individual man on deck, before climbing ratlines himself to pass the command to hands above in the rigging.

  “Mr. Cobb, station lookouts and men to pass the word on larboard and starboard bow,” William ordered, then turning to another petty officer, “wake the gun crews and stand by smartly, no calls and no shouts. Then give the Captain my compliments and request his presence on the quarterdeck. Lively now man. Go!”

  “Aye Sir!” the sailor replied in a hushed tone, hurrying below to complete his tasks. Watch had changed not more than ten minutes ago. “If we can hear their bells, they could have heard o
urs.” William mumbled to himself.

  “Hold steady course quartermaster, I’m going forward to have a look.” William commanded, departing the quarterdeck and walking up the starboard rail for the bow. There was dead silence aboard the Valor, just her hull sliding through small rolling waves was the only sound to reach his ears. Satisfied that his orders were being heeded, William had just begun to question in his mind Cobb’s senses when he smelled something. It was just a passing sensation but through the salty sea air, William could almost detect the smell of something cooking. His mind was trying to process how this could be, Cobb specifically pointed ahead of the bow, the sound, the light he thought he saw was ahead of them and most importantly and problematically for William’s logic, downwind. This was important if the ship that was out there was hostile, but if William was smelling cooking there could possibly be another ship and they would have the weather gauge on the Valor!

  Captain Grimes came to the quarterdeck and got a report from Cobb, then proceeded up to where William was scouring the dark for any sign of a ship out ahead. The winds held steady out of the east and the Valor was moving along at a slight 6 knots with her top gallants and royals reefed. Grimes reached William just as a faint sound floated in over the gentle swells.

  “What was that?” the Captain asked.

  “Not sure Sir, I heard it also, Mr. Cobb was alerted by what he thought were bells. But I think our situation could be more complex than that.” William said, bracing himself, unsure of what Captain Grimes’ reaction would be to his suspicion.

  “What is it Will?” Grimes pressed, looking out over the bow.

  “Sir, I smelled cooking food as I approached the bow. It was only for a passing moment, but it could not be from us and it could not possibly have come from a ship downwind.” William stated, flatly presenting the dilemma he had been working through.

  “Very well, Mr. Pike. Good observation. We need to come to some kind of conclusion then. If we approach the ship ahead and she is hostile, which is quite likely given our relative position to France, we will be forced to pursue and engage. However, if there is another ship out there, this one with the weather gauge on us, engaging a ship and giving away our position would be folly. But if there is no other ship, we risk losing contact with this bugger.” Grimes was now looking at the deck, deep in thought, talking to William but also himself. Before William had a chance to respond Grimes straightened his neck, looked out over the bow and seemed to come to an internal conclusion.

  “What hour is it Lieutenant? I have misplaced my pocket watch.” Grimes asked.

  “Half past four I believe Sir, um, approximately.” William said. The two were now walking at a quick pace to the quarterdeck.

  “Dawn will be nearing and before the sun breaks, we have to gain weather gauge on whatever ship was behind us.” Grimes stated with confidence and conviction, then turning toward the quartermaster, “Come about, hard a-larboard bring us close hauled to the wind and adjust sail and remember, silence man.”

  “Aye Sir,” the quartermaster replied, immediately passing word to begin setting the conditions the Captain specified.

  The bow of the H.M.S Valor nosed southward, swiftly at first and then more slowly as she came up into the wind close hauled as the Captain commanded. There were a few snaps at the canvas as sail filled and sheet tightened, each causing crew on deck to grimace and look toward their Captain. Johnathan Grimes stood on the quarterdeck, seemingly immune to the tensions running through every other man aboard ship. Above the deck, high in the rigging crewmen were making sail adjustments, coaxing every bit of speed they could while the quartermaster held course. Minutes dragged on and the faintest glow could be detected in the eastern sky. Grimes calculated in his mind, if the two ships were cohorts, they would keep relatively close proximity to provide each other mutual support and aid if necessary. Perhaps they would increase that distance slightly to avoid mishap at night, especially under the sliver of moon and overcast skies. But they could be only a few miles apart, it was difficult to determine how far away the ship had been off their bow but the ship that was upwind of them had to be within a few nautical miles. Smells travel with the wind, but William smelling cooking food caused Grimes to believe they were close, perhaps within a mile. The challenge would be slipping by them undetected into an advantage before dawn unveiled their position. The eastern sky was glowing more and more intensely by the minute it seemed, and Grimes silently thanked the overcast conditions for giving him an extra few minutes of precious darkness to cover his maneuver.

  As the eastern skyline grew lighter and lighter, the seas immediately surrounding the Valor began to come into view. Captain Grimes had the Valor tack over larboard and bring the wind in close haul on her starboard side. As the ship settled into her new heading and all adjustments completed, Lieutenant Pike had stationed himself on the larboard edge of the quarterdeck, scouring the waning darkness for any sign of a ship. Through his glass William scanned, from in front of the bow to far astern pausing intermittently to look with his naked eye and listening intently all the while. His tiredness had faded away in the tension and excitement and he was set on finding both ships. William could hear voices in the shadowy stretches of the pre-dawn glow. Muffled and distant but definitely present, he slowed his breathing to try and hear better, desperately trying to hear something definite a word, a phrase, some kind of indicator of their nation of origin. The voices floated in again over the gently rolling sea, but no words were distinguishable. William alerted the Captain by tapping him slightly on the arm and cupping his left ear at the rail. Johnathan nodded in agreement, he heard voices as well. Steadily the pair monitored the sporadic incoming sounds from the ship they had yet to see. They tracked as near as they could reckon the source of the sounds until both were confident it was astern of them.

  The increasing light of dawn finally began to illuminate enough horizon that a sail would not hide for long and neither would the Valor. Now it would be a question of speed of action for the crews and the skill of decision for officers. Word was passed that a sail sighting would end the order of silence as the officers on deck would need to react immediately. Tense moments dragged as every available hand searched the gathering light for sign of another ship. Sunlight finally emerged enough over the horizon that even through the dense cloud cover the seas were growing visible. As William and Johnathan could now see more farther than pistol range from the Valor, things began to unfold in a mad rush.

  “Sail off the larboard stern, she’s about a mile out Sir!” called down one of the marines stationed up on the mizzen top.

  “Colors?” The Captain shouted up in reply.

  “She’s French!” the marine exclaimed.

  “Quartermaster, hard a-larboard, make your heading west by northwest,” the Captain ordered, then immediately turning to Cobb, “Sheet the top gallants as we come about, and beat to quarters.” Captain Grimes then turned to his steward, “If you will, fetch my hat and sword. Lieutenant Pike’s as well, hurry man.” As soon as the Captain had finished speaking the same marine who had spotted the first sail called out again,

  “Another sail Sir! She’s about three miles farther out than the first! No colors yet.” The marine’s voice was followed abruptly by the drums signaling the Valor to clear for action. Every man aboard who had not already been stationed by Lieutenant Pike earlier scrambled to their designated post. Both batteries opened their gun ports and ran out loaded guns, all while the Valor made a tight turn towards the stern of the nearest French Ship, her name still not distinguishable through the dim dawn and distance.

  “Sail! Two points off the starboard bow Sir! Ship of the line, looks to be a third rate!” the sailor on watch up on the main topsail called down. This sent a chill through every hand, including Lieutenant Pike. They had expected the sighting of two ships and even though they still had weather gauge on all three, a three on one engagement could be disastrous for all but the most skilled of crews. Captain Grimes wasted no
time, immediately grabbing William’s sight glass and furiously pacing up the ship to the bowsprit. He opened the telescoping glass and scrutinized the third sighted ship. As he looked on her stern the large ship with two decks of gun batteries was unfurling her colors, she was French as well.

  “Damn the luck William, that bastard will prevent us from taking any prize this day.” Grimes uttered to his second in command. William, completely taken aback, couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Any commander William had ever worked with would be trying to find a way to survive their current predicament. Captain Grimes was still working out his plan of attack!

  “The closest Frenchy is a sloop; she can match our maneuvering and possibly our speed. We must disable her first, run out the long nines on the bow and aim for those masts. Fire at will, Will.” the Captain said, pausing slightly to emphasize his pun.

  “Aye Sir.” William responded, completely bewildered. The Valor was about to be in a serious engagement and her commander was cracking jokes. He instructed the gun crew to load the bow chasers and run them out, the first shot would give them range to set up a possible hit on their second.

  “Larboard gun fire when ready.” William instructed. With a thunderous roar, the cannon fired and recoiled violently. The crew set about immediately, swabbing the bore with a sponge then a powder bag and wad with another nine-pound ball immediately after. William looked for the impact of the first shot, it sent a plume of water into the air just behind their target.

  “Starboard gun increase elevation four turns, fire when ready!” William shouted.

  5 Aug 1808

  Governor’s Mansion -Kingston, Jamaica