GAME TURN EIGHT
The afternoon after Bryant recieved the
Order...
The sailors wearing red and white checkered shirts, and worn white ducks from
the slop chest of the Jana, pulled at the six sweeps of the gig as it cut
across the water of Hamilton Harbor in Bermuda. Byant, wearing his new dress
uniform of a Lieutenant, sat in the sternsheets, abit annoyed at his lack of
proper uniform. His eyes darted from the front of the launch to the ships
around him. The Sunnydale loomed up on his right, it’s mizzenmast an
ugly stump where the United States had snapped it off with round shot.
He took in the big ‘74 for a moment as the gig pulled by, the bowman yelled,
“Passing” to answer the hail that came from a sailor in the main chains of the
new flagship. As his eyes fell from the Sunnydale, he caught the line of
ships that were anchored in a line on the far side of the harbor. Mostly powder
hulks, but yes, that looked like her there. The midshipman, Collins, his name
was, or so Bryant thought, suddenly pointed, “There she lays Sir...just abaft
the Willow Sir.” Bryant nodded,
“Thank you Mr. Collins, is it?” “Yes Sir, Collins it is Sir.” As the launch
moved through the water against
the wind, Bryant let his eyes move over her lines, the three masts...the eleven
gunports per side...black against the white paint that ran the length of the
spardeck. Her quarterdeck stood above everything, and he could see blue coats
moving about there, most likely in anticipation of his arrival. As the thought
entered his mind he couldn’t help but smile as he realized he now rated a bit
of ceremony stepping on board a vessel. Janna looked like a neat little
Sixth Rate, but then she could just be a large sloop, either way she was a
magnificant looking ship. He frowned a bit when the midshipman spoke again
using the word ‘little’ to describe his new command. ‘I’ll wager’ he thought,
‘that she’s fast as can be and bites well in stays.’ He would have to take her
to sea at sometime before new orders come down the line to check to these
suspicions. He was pulled from this thought as the gig tumbled home against the
main chains, and was held there by a bowman with a boat hook. The Boatswain
pipes began their trill dance on the chords as he pulled his lanky frame up the
ladder with some difficulty, and for the first time stood on the deck of his
new command. The side boys stood on either side of him on the gangway, knuckles
to their forehead, and to his left stood the officers and warrant officers on
the quarterdeck ,hats doffed in salute. The ‘click-clack’ of the twelve marines
in their scarlett coats and white breeches presenting arms to his right, and he
turned his head slightly in approval. He then doffed his own hat quickly, a
return salute to all, and then replaced it on his head, then started aft,
taking the short walk on the gangway to the quarterdeck. As he walked onto the
sacred area off limits to seamen, he was approached by a Lieutenant, arm in a
sling. “You must be Rhetnug?” Rhetnug replied with a quick “Yes Sir.” “Very
good then, glad to serve with you. If you please, I’ll trouble you to call the
ships company aft.”
“Aye Sir, bosun call all hands,” Rhetnug looks the typical Naval
Lieutenant except for the fine dueling rapier in place of a regular naval
officer's sword
As the ships company spilled into the waist, either up from companion ways that
lead down to the berthing deck, or from their idling about the ship, and came
to some form of attention, their rags and caps removed from their heads. After
the men were all gathered amongs the carronades on the spar deck, Bryant
cleared his throat, removed the small folded paper from his uniform coat, and
began to read:
“To Lieutenant Thomas Bryant
Sir you are directed and required to assume command of HM Sloop of War Janna
22 with the rank of Acting Commander. Said rank to be confirmed by the
Admiralty at their earliest convenience.
For the Admiral,
Lieutenant Harris
Flag Lieutenant.”
Nothing more was needed now, no since in giving a speech...they probably had
enough from seeing his youthfulness as he addressed them, so he turned to
Rhetnug. “Mr. Rhetnug you may dismiss the hands...I’m going below to my
quarters...I’ll see you, the
Gunner, the Purser, the Master, an the Surgeon...”
“Beg your pardon Sir, we got no surgeon, only a mate,” a Midshipman interrupted
him
“Right, thank you Mister Midshipman, well the mate then...I’ll see you all, in
turn,
beginning in ten minutes, from you I’d like a state of readiness of this
vessel. Tell them to have me a list of everything we’re short of.”
“And um,” he paused as he began down the companion way to the waist, “send a
midshipman in the gig over to the Sparrowhawk and fetch my chest if you
please.”
“Aye sir, we'll get your gear. I've only been aboard since yesterday and for what its worth sir this crew needs a lot of work”
He heard Rhetnug bellow out an order as he went below. He nodded to the marine
sentry as he crouched to go through the door to his cabin. It was quite
spacious for someone used to living in the wooded screens below in the
wardroom. It had little furniture, only a desk in the corner, and a cot dangling
from the beam in the small canvased off bulkhead that would be his sleeping
cabin. The stern windows, which stretched across the entire aft of the cabin,
allowed a view of the harbor, and possesed a cushioned locker running beneath
them. There was a oblong table in the main room, obviously used for dining, the
chairs on the sides were lashed to the floor, so as to keep their thrashing
about during heavy seas. He sat on the locker behind one side of the table,
loosed his neck cloth which had been choking him since he tied it earlier in
the day, and awaited the crowd of official callers he would soon have.
First Leftenant James Rhetnug reported
The Janna has just returned from four months of convoy duty and blockade service off the Eastern US Coast. They were totally surprised during the fireship attack and didn't get off a shot. Morale is low. Bryant notices that Rhetnug and the other officers appear to dislike each other
Second Leftenant William Snouser (Detached as Prizemaster)
Snouser is senior to Rhetnug but not expected to rejoin for several months
Ships records indicate that Captain Livingstone felt Senior Midshipman Jim Collins is ready for his Lieutenant's Exam
Sailing Master Mark Grunwald
We spent a lot of time off North Carolina and Virginia on our last patrol. Ship’s condition appears sound.
Purser Gary Helms
Ship is low on provisions
Surgeon ('s Mate) Sandy Drysler
"Crew is healthy after such a long stretch at sea except for Mr Rhetnug's escapades ashore." Rhetnug gives him a cold hard glance.
Gunner's Mate Phil Kempington
We're low on powder and shot. Records show he lost his rating as Gunner twice due to drinking.
Bryant listened with interest at what
Lieutenant Rhetnug and the warrant officers had to say. During several of the
reports, he noticed wandering eyes and harsher tones used whenever Rhetnug’s
name came to enter the conversation. This was not a good sign, if it were the
case to have a First Lieutenant who was at odds with the rest of the wardroom.
And...he thought to himself...what the devil was Rhetnug doing wearing that
rapier? He tucked these mental notes into the back of his mind, and set about
going over the information he had recieved about the Janna; her recent
excursions and lack of rations, shot and powder. He looked around his cabin,
out the stern window to the harbor, from where he could see the various
buildings that made up the dockyard of Hamilton. The sun was still high, and
work could continue into the evening if necessary... He re-tied his neck cloth
as he moved from the locker to stand in an almost doubled over position. Then
moved from the cabin out into the waist, and then up the companion way and onto
the quarterdeck.
The officers were moving to the weather side when he beckoned Rhetnug...“Mr. Rhetnug, as soon as the gig is returned, I want you to accompany Mr. Helms and Mr. Kempington ashore to the dockyard. Give my respects to the Captain of the Yard, and see if we can’t arrange to have the water hoy and powder hulks along side no later than tommorow.
"Aye sir the usual greasing of the palm, sir?"
Also, see to it that our purser, makes the needed arrangements to get our allowance of provisions transfered aboard as soon as possible.
"I'm sure he slither under the door and get our fair share sir"
“Same goes with the gunner, I want powder enough for sixty days at sea, and shot for our carronades and nines to last the same. Mr. Kempington tells me were out, and we can’t well take prizes without powder for our popguns can we.”
"If he's sober enough"
Kempington overhears this and says as he cocks his fist, "Why you pitful excuse for a... but before he finishes or can take punch, the tip of Rhetnug's rapier drawn with lightening speed is at his throat
The First Lieutenant snarled, “Striking a Superior Officer is a violation of the Articles of War, but then you may not live long enough to face them!” Two Marines on guard at the gangway cocked their muskets and rushed toward the pair.
Commander Bryant let his voice raise enough to be heard on the fos’c’le and in the waist, to gain a reaction from any of the hands that might be idling or working in these two areas. The crew prior to the confrontation between the First Lieutenant and the Gunner's Mate, seemed listless and disinterested
Rhetnug glanced at his commanding officer and said, "I submit this
man for punishment under the Articles of War Number ect...ect...”
Commander Bryant firmly said, “In my cabin
if you please, NOW!”
“You Sir are becoming a festering
thorn in my side. The time for
Midshipman games is past, and I assure you, if you keep up these unnecessary
remarks, and insults on the other members of the wardroom, though you be a
Lieutenant, I’ll make sure you dance before the bosun’s cat. As for the others, the same goes for
them.” His tone softened a little as he
continued to speak “Now by Thunder, this ship does not need this friction
between its officers...and I’ll not stand for it. Now what you do on shore...with these foolish duels, or what have
you, that’s your business. However,
while you are on this vessel, you will carry yourself as a King’s Lieutenant
and as such, you will assist me in making this crew a working unified entity,
because a transfer request is...out of the question. Well, do you have anything to say Sir?”
Rhetnug swiftly reversed the sword into its scabbard. Bryant suddenly
realized he had seen that move before. A down an out French Noble teaching
swordsmanship to young midshipman in Portsmouth.
Lieutenant Rhetnug was clearly
aggitated but kept his temper in check. "Sir with all due respect to these
officers, (and its clear thats not very much) this ship did not fire one shot
while a fireship sailed into this harbor." He clearly had something to add
but hesitated, "If I may speak freely Sir"
Rhetnug took a deep breath, "Sir this ship is somewhat of a leper
colony," he paused, "Admiral Medicus appreciates talent but he does
not not believe in rocking the boat." He continued. "Our gunner very
good when sober, just not sober to often. Myself dueling is not in favor, otherwise
the Willow would have been mine." He hesistated and then said,
"No disrespect intended but some interesting stories are circulating about
the Sparrowhawk’s engagement sir."
Bryant seemed taken aback by this last
remark. What the devil could be said about
Sparrowhawk’s engagement? Had he only done his duty, what any officer in
the Navy would have done? Whatever it was, he wouldn’t be pulled into saying
something that he might later regret. Bryant’s shoulders heaved a shrug, and
then he shook his head... “I assure you Mr. Rhetnug, the accurate account of
the engagement I have scribed with my own pen, and it is now in the Admiral’s
custody.” Bryant paused, and after putting some thought into what to say next
went on. “As for you, what the Willow lost, Janna has gained, and
I know you will do your duty to your best ability while on board. As for the
gunner, you say he is a drunkard...if he is ever caught in that condition on
board you will see to it that he is punished within regulations...none of this
rapier to the throat business.
A good two dozen lashes when he sobers up should serve to remind him not to
partake of his vice while onboard. Thank you for speaking honestly Mr. Rhetnug,
it is much appreciated. Now if you please, take the jolly boat, and Mr. Helms
and Kempington and get over to the yard. Try your damndest to arrange to have
the provisions, powder, shot, and water alongside by at least Friday, as I
intend, with the Admiral’s permission of course to put to sea for some trials
early next week. That is priviledged information, no need for the wardroom to
know anything about putting to sea yet.”
He stood and walked behind Rhetnug out of the cabin, and then onto the
quarterdeck, as he reached the lee side, he began to pace, first aft to the
taff rail, then back for’ard towards the mizzenmast.
"Aye Sir, by your leave." the next two days see the Janna properly outfitted and provisioned. Rhetnug seems to keep a close eye on the purser and gunner but apparently finds no fault, at least none he has chosen to report. The wardroom is civil but quite formal when Lt Rhetnug is present and appears to loosen up when he is elsewhere.
Mr Grunwald reports all three young gentlemen are doing exceptionally well in their navigational studies. However Mr Collins does bully the other two when he can get away with it. Mr Newton is especially interested in the ships guns and spends much of his off duty time practicing with the guncrews. Mr Fillerton is scared of heights and but goes aloft when he must.
The entire crew seems much more motivated. Lt Rhetnug has been drilling them extensively with cutlass. A clumsy weapon as he describes but adequate to get the job done. He has a standing offer that if anyone can touch him with a blade during drill that man will get an afternoon off, subject to the Captain's Approval. Almost
every man has tried no one has come close.
{OOC}
You estimate his Melee skill at 8 or 9 with a specialty in swords and expertise in cutlass.
{IC}
This has earned him a grudging respect from the crew.
Two Days after Bryant
took command of HMS Janna
Morning
Bryant sat behind the table of his cabin, on the stern locker, finshing the
last of his breakfast that included the regular fare of minced pork, hardtack,
and coffee. As he ground the last portion of hardtack between his teeth, he
pushed the plate aside and pulled from across the table a sheet of clean white
parchment. He then removed the lid from the jar of ink that rested by the
paper, and took up the left wing pen that rested by the ink well, placed it
within the ink, withdrew it and placed it to the paper.
His Majesty’s Sloop Janna, on the Bermuda Station, March 5, 1814
Sir,
With greatest respects, I request permission to put Janna to sea as soon as
possible for the direct purpose of checking her sea worthiness and qualities
thereof of her crew in handling of the vessel and gunnery practice. My propsed
course of sail will take her due south as winds permit, 200 leagues, and then
return to Hamilton Harbor. Will await your direct orders and or consent.
I have the honour to be, ect. ect. ect.,
Thomas Bryant,
Master and Commander
Bryant folded the letter carefully, and applied a wax seal. He bellowed to the
Marine
Sentry at the door of his cabin “Pass the word for Mister Newton.”
As Newton came through the door, Bryant stood to the best of his ability under
the short deck above his head. He handed the letter to Newton with the
following words...
“Mister Newton, I’ll have you see that this gets to the Admiral’s Flag
Lieutenant, for the Admiral with all possible haste, and deliver it with my
respects of course. Also, since you’ll be on the quay, kindly go over to the
prize agent and see if he has any funds present in my name. If so, have him
write out the amount and bring it directly back here for me, understood. Good
Man, off with you then.”
"Aye Sir" The Young Midshipman went
on his way. He lator reported, "no prize money on account sir." and
later that afternoon, Mr Grunwald who had the watch reported, "Flag to Janna
permission granted, good sailing"
First day out early morning, look out, calls out, "Large Schooner off the
port bow, American Colors."
{OOC}
You have the weather gauge...Lieutenant Rhetnug
has the deck and sends Mr Collins below to report,
{IC}
"Mr Rhetnug's respects sir, American schooner in site sir, he believes it be a Privateer and requests permission to Clear for Action sir." The midshipman was obviously very excited as he blurted this out very quickly and wanted to rush back on deck.
“Fine, inform Mr. Rhetnug I’ll be there shortly.” After the
midshipman gave the usual
“Aye Sir,” and turned, and ran out the door Bryant rose calmly on the word that
the Janna was bearing down on an American Schooner. He walked from his
cabin at an easy pace, turned aft moved up the companion, and was on the
quarterdeck not a minute after the midshipman burst through the door of his
cabin. One look through his glass and he turned to Rhetnug... “Mr. Rhetnug,
have the drummer beat to quarters if you please. Have our starboard side
carronades run out and double shotted with grape.” Bryant moved over to stand
beside the quartermaster at the wheel as the ship spang to life with the hands
running to their station. He spoke in a calm voice to the quartermaster as he kept
his glance on the while dot that was the American vessel. “Hold her steady now,
I intend to run across her path and rake her.”
Bryant intends to run before the wind to intercept the American vessel and rake
if
possible. If not, he will tumble home against the side and fire a broadside
into the
privateer.
The big schooner came about swiftly, clearly
she had a large crew, and was built for speed. These were gained at the expense
of a light armament of only 8 gunports. She was not in position to use this advantage
today. As the two ships closed each cut loose with a broadside. The schooner
was hammered her deck swept nearly clear by grapeshot and the double shot
caused heavy damage to her hull. Her own broadside of 8 guns which sounded like
9pdrs, shot away a couple of spars and a rigging stay or two but no major
damage.
Suddenly the schooner put her wheel over clearly intending to run alongside and
board.
Bryant turned to Rhetnug... “Mr. Rhetnug,
prepare to repel boarders...now you may put that swordsmanship of yours to
use.” He turned to Collins...”Mister Collins go below and fetch my cutlass and
brace of pistols from my chest...and be quick about it...” then he yelled to
the gun crews...”SINGLE SHOT GRAPE, FIRE AS YOU COME TO BARE ON HER!”
The Midshipman clearly did not wish to go below but rushed off to get his
Captains weapons. The big schooner was closing but she was also down by the
bow, her frail timbers were not intended to resist such heavy shot. The
carronades went off in ones and twos as the schooner bore down on the Janna.
The schooner's own guns replied and several shot swept the quarterdeck, the
Sailing Master Mr Grunwald and the quartermaster manning the wheel went down.
Mr Fillerton stepped over the shattered bodies and quickly steadied the Janna
back to course. Sergeant Rubbel's Marines were clearly being outmatched by the
more numerous blue jacket figures amongs the schooner's rigging. At least half
were dead and the Sergeant wounded, but refusing to leave his post. The Janna's
fire was telling on the schooner as her decks lay heaped with dead and dying,
but she was clearly overcrewed. Extra men and officers to man prizes taken was
the custom. Gunner's Mate Phil Kempington was walking slowly down the gundeck
making sure each crew took that extra minute to allow for the ship's roll and
site their guns properly
Mr Collins returned with Captain's sidearms and saw the Captain's previous
wound had started bleeding from his exhertions of directing the crew. He
reported "Sir the Surgeon Mr Drysler reports at least 30 men below wounded
and an equal number dead.
His report was interupted as the schooner caught a fluke gust of wind that
slammed her sagging bow alongside the Janna amidships. Lieutenant
Rhetnug who had been directing the men aloft while forming a a group of gunners
from the unengaged side to repell boarders looked like a starving man presented
with banquet. As over 40 Americans poured on to Janna's deck. Rhetnug
howling like a fiend from the pit led his small band of 20 against them
and savage melee broke out. Three men fell to the First Lieutenant's rapier in
as many minutes. The men fought well but they being pushed back, both sides
reinforced with American Marines descending from the rigging to the main deck
and the Janna's
gunners joining the fray. As the Janna's crew was pushed
back; Mr Newton rallied the few surviving Royal Marines when their Sergeant
took a bayonet. They held briefly then the young lad dropped and a four of the
blue coated Americans rushed the quarterdeck.
A mass melee was going on all over the main deck of the Janna everyman
still standing was engaged, only two or three men could be seen standing
on the schooners deck which was clearly heavily flooded and slowly settling....
{OOC}
USMC / Three enlisted armed with rifles with bayonets and one officer with a
pistol and ornate gold cutlass. On the quarterdeck is Commander Bryant with
sword and two pistols, Mr Collins with a cutlass and Mr Fillerton with a pistol
at the wheel.
{IC}
Bryant, turned to Fillerton at the wheel...”Mr.
Fillerton...take aim with your pistol at the
furthest of those marines with a musket.” He handed one of his pistols to
Collins...
“Collins you aim for the middle, and I shall aim for the one on the far right.
On my mark
fire.” Bryant pulled the pistols from his belt handed one to Collins and then
cocked his
own pistol using the palm of his left hand and aimed, as did the mishsipmen.
“After we
fire...we’ll charge the fellows with cutlasses, and overwhelm them...you can
leave the
wheel Fillertom. “FIRE” The pisotls went off in a blaze of smoke and crimson
flame and
then the three ran forward, Bryant drew his cutlass brandishing its blade
towards the remining Yankees, screaming at the top of his lungs. “STRIKE YOUR
COLORS...YOU ARE SINKING DAMN YOU...STRIKE YOUR COLORS!”
The marines had apparently had apparently fired their rifles earlier and the officer missed with his shot
Commander Bryant's pistol misfired, Collins dropped a charging marine with his shot, and Fillerton missed. The three British officers charged the three American Marines, Fillerton received a severe chest wound from a bayonet lunge, Collins sidestepped his opponents thrust and dropped him with heavy slash. The Marine Officer and Commander Bryant exchanged several blows and appeared evenly matched. The remaining marine attempted to finish off Fillerton but blocked by Collins.
On the main deck Lieutenant Rhetnug had rallied the crew and had forced the Americans back to their own ship and was preparing to board when an Officer near the schooner's wheel drew a pistol and fired. Rhetnug was clearly hit but urged his men forward and they spilled out onto the Yankee's decks as he collasped.
The Yankee yelled back defiantly "It will be a cold day in the
Infernal Region before I lower my colors sir!!!"
“Go lans....GO” Byant yelled as he parrieded
cutlass blows with the American Officer.
“Take her colors down!...Take her colors down.” His left arm was no good...he
could feel
the warm blood as it soaked his coat sleve, and ran down upon his left hand.
The clang of
the blades reached his ears...the American Officer had beaten away all of his
thrusts.
Bryant knew he needed to get over to the schooners deck, the men, being
leaderless
without Rhetnug would surely disolve into a disoriented mob without an officer.
Thinking of this, Bryant brought his right knee up and extended his leg in an
attempt to
catch the Marine off guard in his midsection, and use the surprise to do him
in.
His move caught the Marine Officer by surprise and stunned him, then as
the ship rolled he lost his footing and fell. Collins displayed some cutlass
skills clearly not taught by the Royal Navy and did in his Marine with a deadly
riposte. He then turned and saw Commander Bryant had knocked the Marine down
but was looking pale and fatiged from the blood loss of his old wound and
several new nicks.
The American Officer on the schooner threw down his speaking trumpet and rushed
into the melee spilling over onto his own deck. Shouting "Forward lads,
the Limey's are whipped!!!" His crew rallied and Janna's forward
rush was halted. The carnage was incredible nearly half of both crews were
killed or wounded; and the survivors were fatiged... still the issue remained
in doubt...
Bryant rasped in a hoarse voice to
Collins...”Collins...follow me, we’ve got to get over
there and renew the assault. He drew the blade down on the Marine Officer, and
with his remaining strength ran down the ganway and was on the American
vessel...”Com’on Lads...it’s prize money all around.” He pointed his cutlass at
the advancing yankees, “Who will come with me...who will come with me!!!!”
The crew of the Janna rallied to their captain and young midshipman by his side taking on all comers with lightening thrusts of his cutlass. He cut down two men who made a move towards the Commander with scarsely a glance. Commander downed one man himself and but took another wound in his sword arm. He could barely hold up his cutlass as the Janna's remaining crew rushed past him and routed the few remaining defenders.
The American Captain had briefly rallied his own men but it was clear their ship was sinking underneath them, the deck was barely five feet above the waves. Soon their morale began falter until only their Captain remained defiant. He alone stood sword drawn the sole defender of his quarterdeck the American colors flapping in the light breeze behind and above him.
The Janna’s men paused, somehow it just didn't seem right to rush one man...
Bryant held his arm and cutlass in one hand...and stood with the rest of his crew hestiating as they all looked at the American Captain. He felt the deck heave beneath his feet, and saw the waves lap at the scuppers, and knew this vessel was going to go in a matter of minutes. “Sir,” he called to the American Captain. “It has been a brave action, but you must strike or we will cut you down so help me. Please consider your wounded...there is still time to get them aboard my vessel...Please Sir consider that....your own vessel will go anytime now.”
The Captain heard the groans and cries of the fallen both American and British. He slowly walked over the rail and slashed the line that held the ships colors, the flag fluttered briefly and then fell into the sea. He then reversed his sword and offered it to Commander Bryant.
"Commander Brian Stocker USS Defender sir." It was clear the schooner had only minutes, but she was sinking on an even keel.
Bryant
took the sword, felt a moment of pure pleasure rise inside of him, but quelled
it down , not allowing it to show in his emotions. “Commander Thomas Bryant,
His Majesties Ship Janna at your service...Sir, I cannot take the sword
from an officer who has defended his ship so valiantly.” With that he handed
the sword back to Stocker. “Mr. Collins...show Commander Stocker to the wardroom,
see what you can get him to drink and eat. Then see to it that a list of
wounded and dead are before me. He looked around for someone else to carry out
the next order he had in mind and saw no one, no faces he
recognized. “Mr. Collins, belay that last order...see that Commander Stocker is
led to the wardroom...then get back up here and see to the movement of the
wounded.
Commander Stocker nodded, "at your service sir." Mr Collins
responded, "Aye, aye sir, Commander if you'll come with me sir." He
escorted the American Officer to the wardroom.
The rest of you men...I want two men with a musket at the gangway of the Janna,
the rest of you begin moving the wounded..come now, we’ve not much time.”
Two walking wounded Marines posted themselves at the gangway, while the rest of
the crew carried the wounded across
He turned back to Collins... “I’ll be in my cabin, Collins as soon as the
wounded are aboard, shove off and report to me a list of the casualties...and
get that Yankee flag if you please.”
Collins had just returned and replied, "aye sir their flag went over the
side sir. I'll see to the casualties"
Bryant recrossed the gunwale of the Janna and staggered down the gangway coming
across Rhetnug, then remembered he had fallen in the fighting...he knelt beside
his collapsed Lieutenant... “Rhetnug...we’ve taken the Yankee...you led a
splendid action man....splendid.” He called down into the waist where the
loblolly men were busy carrying wounded down into the cockpit. “You two...as
soon as you are finished with him....get up here and see to the First
Lieutenant!”
Right away sir, Rhetnug was still breathing but he had lost a lot of blood from
have a dozen sword wounds.
Commander Stocker advises you that he had 83 killed in action including his entire Marine Detachment and all but one officer.
Prisoners Commander Brian Stocker, Midshipman Jim McCoy lightly wounded,
30 with no injuries, 15 badly wounded, 10 walking wounded
Midshipman Collins reported 104 men fit for
duty sir
First Leftenant James Rhetnug Badly Wounded multiple sword wounds and 1 gunshot
to the shoulder
Senior Midshipman Jim Collins Fit for duty
Signals Midshipman Bob Newton Unconscious (concussion hit by falling rigging)
Junior Midshipman James Fillerton Died of Wounds
Sailing Master Mark Grunwald Killed in Action
Gunner's Mate Phil Kempington Light Wound
Purser Gary Helms Fit for Duty
Surgeon ('s Mate) Sandy Drysler Fit for Duty
Marine Sergeant Fred Rubbel Died of Wounds
Royal Marines{12} 8 Killed 2 badly wounded, 2 walking wounded
Crew{185} 45 killed, 22 badly wounded, 14 walking wounded
Bryant reached his cabin
after seeing that Rhetnug was carried below. After sheathing his cutlass and
laying the scabbard on the table, he painfully removed his frock coat and
bloodied shirt, tossed them on a pile in the floor...they would be removed
later. He then began to bandage his old and new wounds with the cloth he had
tucked away in his seachest, for occasions like these. After tying off the
bandages on all of his new cuts, he removed another shirt from his chest, put
it on...and then slid into his white cotton waist
coat, He suddenly felt rather embarassed as he had no frock coat to wear. As
the one he’d purchased in London before sailing on Sparrowhawk was now
bloodstained from the wounds suffered in the fighting. He placed his old cocked
hat on his head...as he’d lost the old one in the fighting somewhere. As he
straightened the hat on his head Collins appeared at the door...knucked his
bare forehead, and handed a slip of paper to Bryantwith the words “casualties
Sir.” He spared a glance at it...45 seamen and 8 Marines
killed...40 wounded...104 fit for duty.
Bryant replied in a hoarse voice, “Thank you Mr. Collins...I shall see you rate
Lieutenant one of these days for your actions today.” He cut his sentence short
with that, and then went into an order so that the midshipman wouldn’t grow to
full of himself. “Now, have the quatermaster put her about bearing Nor’ East by
Nor’ if you please...Bermuda by and by....you can shake out her mainsail and
top gallants if you please, let me know the minute there is any change. Then
once you’ve done that you may see that the hands, and the prisoners are
properly suppered and I shall take the next watch. You are dismissed
Collins.”
He watched Collins leave his cabin. Then rebuckling his old dress sword on his
uniform, he walked out of the cabin into the waist...going from gun to gun,
congratulating the men
that were there on a job well done.
After this tour of the gundeck, he moved down into the wardroom and conversed
with Stocker for a few moments from whence he leared that the American had lost
83 killed, including the entire Marine detatchment, and he now had 55 both
wounded and non-wounded prisoners in his hold. He was rather astonished that
Stocker wished toknow about the French style of fencing some of his men were
seen to be using. “I’m sureI don’t know Commander,” Bryant replied. “My First
Lieutenant, James Rhetnug is the
master swordsman on board, but I’m afraid one of your men put a ball in his
shoulder and he is down in the cockpit. I shall however send Mr. Collins down
to discuss that subject with you as soon as he is able, he is also a
practicioner of the French way of the sword.”
After the discussion Bryant went back to his cabin, where fell asleep in his
cot until Collins
awoke him at the next ringing of 8 bells.
As Janna wore into Hamilton Harbor,
in Bermuda, a fair wind on her starboard beam laying her over, her decks were
crowded with men, both crew and prisoners alike. Bryant stood on the
quarterdeck in his old frock coat, it had been mended and cleanded somewhat
since the bullet ruined the left sleeve on Sparrowhawk. He wore the old
cocked hat, with the lace torn and hanging on one side, and his 2nd best white
breeches. As Janna made her way past the line of ships in the harbor, he
doffed his hat, to the respective Senior quaterdecks of the Watcher and Buffonia.
He noticed the Sunnydale wasn't among the ships in the harbor...she must
have put out for manuvers also. "Right Collins...you may back the sail,
and anchor her here....see that she is secured with a spring." He went
below to his cabin as Janna erupted with activity as hands went to the
braces to bring the main yard around...while others went forward to drop the
large anchor. He sat down at his desk and began to write.
His Majesties Sloop Janna
On the Bermuda Station
Sir,
I have the honour of writing to you that the sloop I have the priviledge to
command engaged and destroyed a Yankee privateering schooner, the USS Defender,
on the day before last. The Yankee carried 8 9 pounders aside. In a sharp
exchange of fire, Janna's carronades hulled the enemy vessel several
times, while their broadside did very little damage to Janna. A hot
close quarters fight began as the vessels came together. Lieutenant Rhetnug
must be commended for his admirable service of turning the fight in our favor,
as he cleared the Yankees from our decks and drove them to their own ship. He
was however gravely wounded in the assault and still remains in a most critical
condition. The fight was then carried onto the enemy's decks, where Midshipman
James Collins proved himself more than a match for their finest swordsmen,
dispatching at least five of their men including two marines. The Yankee
Commander Brian Stocker struck soon after the fight intensified on his deck.
After the wounded were removed to Janna, the Defender sank along
an even keel. I am pleased to announce there are 55 prisoners including
Commander Stocker on Janna as I write. His crew suffered 83 killed. My
own losses were 45 killed, 36 wounded.
I remain Sir, &t, &t, &t
Thomas Bryant.
He re-read the letter, sealed it, and then placed it in his chest for safe
keeping until the Admiral returned. As he did this a knock came at his cabin
door..."Come"
Collins came through.."Dispatches Sir...one from the Buffonia,
Captain Ponsonby-Smythe." He lay the packet on the desk, "By your
leave Sir." Bryant nodded and Collins turned and left the cabin. Bryant
opened the letter with his pen knife and read it....
'Gentlemen,
In the absence of the Admiral and Captain Giles, I would be delighted to offer
any assistance I can. I would also like to propose, in order to improve morale
amongst the men, a series of inter-ship competitions be held. These can be in
the noble art of pugilism, at the various weights, wrestling, boat handling,
shooting and the like. Suggestions are appreciated and I will be happy to put
up a purse of 20 Guineas to go to the winning crew which will, I sincerely
hope, belong to the HMS Buffonia! Perhaps this can take place on Sunday
following Divisions and the main meal.'
Bryant re-read it, and drew another sheet of paper from his satchel and began
another letter....
His
Majesties Sloop Janna
On the Bermuda Station
The Most Honourable Captain
Posonby-Smythe,
Am just in possession of your letter of the other day. Thank you much for the
opportunity to participate in the Fleet competition. However, due to the action
Janna has fought on the day before last I am afraid I have lost some of
my prized competitors. ( As he knew Rhetnug could have taken the fencing
competition hands down) I must therefore with most sincere regrets decline the
invitation.
I remain Sir,
Thomas Bryant
Upon finshing the letter, he called for the Marine Sentry to beckon Mr.
Collins. When he arrived Bryant
handed him the sealed letter and told him to see that got to Captain
Posonby-Smythe directly. He also gave him the letter to the Admiral and
instructed him to get that to the secretary at Admiralty House in the town. He
knew that would be the most direct way of getting it to the Admiral as soon as
he arrived back in the harbor. As Collins dissappared back through the door
Bryant's mind turned to the nagging question of where hewould get men to replace
those lost in the action.
After the meeting, as all the other Captains were leaving the great cabin of the Sunnydale Bryant stood in front of Captain Giles. He touched his forehead with two fingers of his right head in a quick salute. "Afternoon Sir," he began. "I had 81 incapacitated in the fighting Sir, including my First Lieutenant, two Midshipmen, the master, and 8 of my 12 marines. Any replacements I can acquire before we sail will be greatly appreciated. With his graces permission Sir, I would like to make Mister Midshipman Collins an acting-Lieutenant per his actions and courage displayed during the fight aboard the Yankee."
Captain Giles nodded you’ll receive from my ship’s own detachment 7 Marines and Sergeant Phillips, as well as 40 seamen, 30 able bodied and 10 landsmen. Based on your report Mr Collins shall be granted an appointment as Acting Lieutenant ( OOC / Only Post Captains could so appoint, not Commanders) . Mr Queton Master’s Mate will also be transfered to your ship.
Bryant stood on the quarterdeck of Janna peering through the gloom at
the ships around him. As the first stabs of light began showing over the
eastern horizion he turned his eyes to the Watcher. He could make out
the moving motion going up her ratlines, to set sail no doubt. He raised his
coffee mug to his lips, and took a swallow of the hot brew. Turned to Collins,
who stood nearby. “Mister Collins, pipe the hands on deck, prepare to set sail,
and weigh her anchor.” He watched as the crew poured from the companions fore
and aft and scurried under the canes of the bosun’s mates onto the lines and
hurry upto the yards of her mainsail and top gallants. The Landsmen moved their
spars into the capstan forward and to the tune of a
fiddle began the laborous task of weighing the anchor. The Willow passed
by, and he could make out Callahan through the twilight darkness, standing on
his own quarterdeck hat in hand, above his head. Bryant raised his own back,
and then almost spilt his coffee as a gust caught Janna and pushed her
forward, the helmsman getting her to bite the water and hold fast. “Make
station directly aft of Willow if you please.” he told the Quartermaster
at the wheel, “and steer small blast you.” Janna slowly gained speed and
made her way down the channel aft of Willow. “I’ll be in my cabin
Collins, keep her directly astern of Willow, and alert me the minute the
wind changes or the Watcher gives a signal.” Collins answered with an “Aye Sir”
and then Bryant moved down the companion, past the
sentry and into his cabin.