A Baltic Affair

Chapter 3 Stirring the Pot

Chapter 3

Stirring the PotThe wind had freshened slightly and the ship was a little livelier when she stood into the bay. Leaving Miss Silke at the windward shrouds, Petroc consulted the lieutenants and the Sailing Master.

“The Eye has some nasty shoals on the landward side, sir. If we stand into the bay, we shall have to go deep to avoid them.”

“Thank you, Mister Isaacs, there is a small harbour at its southern tip for the folk who live there mainly, but it might also serve some of their accursed gunboats. We will need to stand into the bay and then leave on through the eastern channel, I think. Lay our course accordingly, please.”

“I’ve sent Midshipman Trewellyn to the Fore crosstrees, sir. He has the signal glass with him; that should be enough to make out the details of anything present there,” said Ben Curran. Doing his best to keep out of his captain’s way, Peter Poole, the ship’s youngest midshipman, a likely lad from Devon, trained a spyglass across the nettings toward the distant shore.

“Good. I have learned they have seized several of our trading brigs in recent days. I wish to see what they have here and if there is perhaps an opportunity to take them back!” He glanced at the young woman watching the activity on deck with keen interest. “I rather think our guests might not be that distressed if we did.” His glance fell on the young Midshipman trying to focus the spyglass he held on the shore. “Mister Poole, you’ll have a better view from aloft. Take yourself up to the mizzen crosstrees – see if you can spot a collier type brig in the bay just behind the second headland we will pass to starboard.”

“Aye, aye, sir!”

“Wait a moment. Come with me.” Petroc stepped to where Silke von Dieffenbach was still watching the activity. “Miss von Dieffenbach, can you describe the brig belonging to your governess’ father? It will be helpful to Master Poole here if he knows what to look for.”

“Certainly, Captain.” She hesitated briefly, gathering her thoughts, a small frown creasing her brow. “The ship was anchored just inside the bay near the village of Gager. Ships often wait there for others sailing in the same direction. The French may have taken the captain ashore, but the guards are soldiers, not seamen. It is not a large ship. It is painted black and has white decoration on the bow and the stern. Two masts, but with not as many sails as you have on yours.”

“Thank you, miss. Well, Mister Poole, do you think you can spot her? The land there is quite low lying so you may be able to make out her masts at least.”

Miss von Dieffenbach interjected before Poole could respond. “One more thing, Captain; on the outside of her hull, the ship had heavy…you might call them frames. My father says they are used when the ship must be loaded from a beach.”

“Ah, that is useful information,” Petroc said to Silke. He then shouted to Poole, “Aloft with you, youngster. See what you can make out in that bay!”

Turning, he found the lady studying him with an amused smile playing on her lips. “You are like my father. You assume everyone can read your thoughts and know what you require of them, Captain. Does your midshipman know there are two bays beyond that headland? The ship you want him to see is in the second – though I am sure he will work it out rather than admit he did not understand you.”

Despite himself, Petroc laughed and said, “Indeed, you are right, but I think young Peter will discover quickly enough that the first bay is used only by smaller craft than the brig he seeks.” He took a moment to give the Master instructions to sail a little closer to the headland, then turned again to his guest and said, “Were I the French commander, I would have a battery on that headland, but I see no sign of one.”

“My father would be better equipped to answer you, Captain.” She returned his smile. “We mere women are not supposed to notice these things – but I can tell you with certainty that there is a battery of artillery on the island. They are kept in the citadel at Bergen auf Rügen and can be moved quite quickly if needed.”

Frowning, Petroc said, “I see. Well, we will soon know if they have been dispatched to chase us away!” The lady’s reply had caught him off guard. He had assumed she would not be interested in military matters. Now he realised he was wrong – and he found her interest intriguing.

Silke watched the operation from a position she judged to be out of the captain’s way. Her father joined her and together they watched as the sailors set and took in sails, adjusted them and responded to the quiet commands of the captain relayed through the lieutenants and the warrant officers.

She marvelled at the agility of even the older seamen as they ran out along the yardarms to set or reef according to the orders they were given. On deck, others hauled on lines seemingly selected at random, but which controlled the angle of the sails or the tension of them. It seemed chaotic, but she soon identified the patterns and marvelled that even the boys she now recognised as Midshipmen seemed to carry an authority far beyond their years.

“It is a fascinating thing to watch.” Her father’s quietly spoken comment reminded her of his presence.

“It is;confusing at first, but wonderful to see. I think I begin to understand a little of how wonderful it is that these men can use the elements so. They make it appear no great thing, yet it is not easily mastered, I think.” She smiled at him. “This will be an interesting experience, Papa.”

The pass through Greifswald Bay revealed some small gunboats on the Eye and a huddle of coastal craft gathered in the entrance to the Peenemünde channel, but nothing else of any great consequence. Midshipman Poole had managed to identify a brig, which he thought might be the seized ship at anchor still in the entrance to the bay sheltering the village of Gager. But he had not managed to make out sufficient detail to be sure of her identity.

Turning to the First he remarked, “No matter; Ben; I think a little cutting out may yield us some prizes.” Petroc grinned, his face alive with the challenge of planning mischief. “We will stand away to the east as though we intend to continue our present course, but at sunset I want to come about and steer to the north before we turn again to stand into the bay.”

“What do you have in mind as our target, sir, the shipping in the Peenemünde channel or the brig?” Ben knew his friend and commander well.

“The brig and the gunboats, my friend. Then we shall see!”

Ben laughed. “Neck or nothing! Very well, how do we accomplish it?”

The wind held steady as Kestrel, her canvas braced sharply to the tack, stood into the bay. With all lights extinguished or covered, she slid south of the Eye, her quarter boat, filled with six Marines and twice that number of seamen under Lieutenant Hunt, slipped the towline and made for the little harbour on the southern tip of the island. Two miles south of the anchored trading brig, Kestrel hove-to and launched her remaining boats.

“Take care, Ben,” Petroc told the First. “If you can’t take her, burn her where she is. We will be waiting for you. With luck, our lads will have the gunboats either secured and away, or damaged.”

“Aye, sir. Let us hope Johnny Frenchman hasn’t put a full guard aboard her. She’ll bring a good price as a Prize if the admiral approves it!”

“That she will, but even if you destroy her, it will mean Boney has no profit from her either,” Petroc said with enjoyment, using their favourite slang term for Bonaparte.

“True enough. With this overcast we have the benefit of a little extra darkness as well.” Ben turned as a Master’s Mate touched his forelock. “All aboard then, Curry? We’ll be off then!” He saluted his Captain and stepped down into the waiting boat. “Cast off!”

Petroc watched as the boats slipped away into the darkness, following their path with the night glass for as long as he could. Turning aft he said, “Get us under way, Mister Isaacs. Make for the western channel and our rendezvous, please.” He stiffened as he became aware of another figure standing right aft against the transom rail. “Miss Silke, what brings you on deck?”

“I’m sorry, Captain. It was, I think you say, ‘stuffy’ below. I could not sleep and came here so I would not disturb my parents.”

He noted that she seemed to be warmly clad with a heavy cloak, though she was not wearing the same gown she’d had on when last he’d seen her. “Yes, I see. Have you been here long?”

She gave a soft laugh. “Since just after you let Mister Hunt take the boat to the island. I’m sorry, Captain, have I done wrong?”

Taken aback, Petroc thought quickly, surprised to find himself glad of her presence. “No, though you should have told me you were here. We may have to use the guns, and I will then have to insist that you go below and take shelter in the hold.” He faced her. “Our ‘smashers’ are bad enough, but we must stand close to our target for them to be effective, and a ball from their guns will do a great deal of damage to us and to my people.”

She nodded. “I know; I have seen what the French artillery can do to stone buildings and to soldiers. I will go below, as you call it, when you require it.”

“We should have some time yet,” he replied, relenting. Truth be told, he found her company pleasant, not to say desirable, though he could not have said why. Instead he asked, “Was your home damaged by the French?”

She hesitated for a moment. “No, though they gave us no opportunity to remove our possessions. The French Colonel gave my father no choice: leave or he would have his soldiers evict us.” She laughed softly, a sound he found entrancing, and then she added, “But he will not like the wine we have left there, and his men will not like the beer.”

A lookout called from the foretop, “Blue light, sir, on the starboard bow. Three flashes!”

Petroc was instantly alert. “Excellent. Mister Isaacs, make the signal please and steer for the lights.” To his companion he said, “Mister Hunt has been successful, I think. We shall see shortly, but now I must leave you for a moment. Please remain here if you do not wish to go below.”

“I hope he has succeeded, Captain, but I think your Mister Curran may have more difficulty.”

“You think so? Why would that be?”

“There are many soldiers on the island, and they will be angry with my Papa. It may be that they have put more men to guard the ship than before.” She touched his arm gently. “You see, Papa has an interest in the ship, and when the French Oberst made threats against Papa and impugned his honour, there was a duel. Papa won, quite easily, as it happens, and the Frenchman was not able to find us when Papa moved us to safety. They may be expecting Papa to try to take the ship back.”

Kicking himself for not having thought of this, Petroc bit back a demand to know why they had not told him of the duel and their interest in the ship. Instead he said, “I see. That does complicate matters a little.” It was too late to attempt anything else now, but he ordered the course reversed to close the brig’s position once they recovered the boats. He would intervene and destroy the brig if the recapture attempt failed.