Lightning Strikes
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The Return Of Thomas GreyChapter 6: Lightning Strikes free porn video
August 1808
The ships of the inshore squadron kept their vigil over the months of July and then August, and they caught a few more blockade runners. The French skippers became more crafty over time, or perhaps the less crafty had been weeded out, and they clung more closely to the coast. The French also installed more batteries along the coastline to give their shipping better protection. As Thomas knew, this was even good for the British. The guns placed along this coast – first nine-pounder field pieces, then increasingly 24-pounder siege guns – would be sorely missed elsewhere and thusly weaken other military campaigns, such as the recent French invasion of Portugal.
News arrived that a British army under Sir Arthur Wellesley had been landed in Portugal and had successfully fought off the first French counter-attacks. Lord Collingwood ordered his inshore squadrons to disrupt French shipping more vigorously, to support the efforts on the peninsula. Additional ships were detached for cruiser warfare, and even the large 74-gun ships played a role, frequently attacking the French gun positions along the coast with their superior fire power, thus robbing the coasters of their protection.
The British incurred losses too. One of their brig-sloops, Fox, was hit by 24-pounder fire when pursuing a fleeing transport ship too closely to the shore. Six men were killed and twenty wounded before she could make it to safety, and she had to sail to Gibraltar for repairs.
The weather was also getting worse. Late summer thunderstorms were moving in, sometimes forcing the squadron to leave their inshore position and seek the safety of the sea. Those Mediterranean thunderstorms could be of surprising ferocity, with little advance warning, and the British crews learnt to be cautious when one was looming.
On the afternoon of August 29, Andromeda was creeping along the coast near Cassis in a faltering wind and sweltering heat. Thomas had the watch and he saw some of the alarming signs of an approaching storm they had learned to notice. To the South, clouds were forming into huge towers on the horizon. With a sigh, he turned to his midshipman.
“My compliments to the Captain, and we are to be hit by another storm.”
Whilst the young man went aft, Thomas already gave the first orders to douse the fires, but also to man the pumps. It was better to have the bilge pumped dry before more water collected there. Captain Benning joined him on deck and looked around with a frown.
“Let’s get out to sea a bit more, Mr. Grey. Change course to south-west. Let’s get the top hamper down too!”
“Aye-aye, Sir!” Thomas replied, having already anticipated the orders. He turned to the midshipman. “All hands!”
When the men of the watch below streamed onto the deck, Thomas gave orders to the boatswain. Within a minute, the rigging was crowded with men as the topgallant and royal sails were stricken. First the yards and then the royal and topgallant masts were lowered to the deck, leaving the ship with just her topmasts.
This slowed her down further, but it would also reduce the chances of something being carried away in the storm. Thomas had been very busy with the manoeuvre, but now that he had time to look around, he had to swallow hard. In the short time, the weather had moved much closer already, and the sky to the South was dark blue. Single gusts began to rip at the remaining sails.
“Two reefs in the tops’ls!” the captain commanded now.
It was not too soon. The first heavy gust hit them not five minutes later, laying the ship over sharply. The captain shouted his orders, and the ship fell off a little, before going to the wind again. They were too close to the coast to simply heave-to and ride out the weather.
Now they were being pelted with pigeon egg-sized hail, forcing the hands to seek shelter. More gusts followed, laying the ship over sharply but also churning up the waters. Within minutes, the soft swell of the sea turned into an inferno of crashing waves, repeatedly flooding the waist. Thomas stayed at his station near the foremast, already drenched to the bone by the deluge of water and gasping to keep his lungs filled.
Still, he kept his attention on the ship and the weather. Suddenly, the stays and shrouds glowed with a blue hue.
“Down, everybody!” he screamed, throwing himself on the deck.
Immediately, a blinding white light and an ear-splitting thunder flushed his senses, followed by the sounds of bursting timbers and splitting ropes. Looking up, he saw the main mast split in two, from the top to the deck level, and beginning to lean to leeward. The main mast crew was lying about without movement. Thomas looked for his own men. They were sitting on deck with wild eyes and open mouths.
“Up, everybody!” he yelled against the infernal noise. “Get axes! We must clear the wreckage! Up!”
It was Mr. Allison who also kept a clear head. Cursing and kicking the stunned sailors, he got them to their feet and running for axes. Others followed Thomas aft to where the men were still lying around the faltering main mast. The men jerked spasmodically when touched, but they dragged them forward anyway and into the shelter of the forecastle. Adam Bingham was among those; he was moaning and trying to get on his feet, but Thomas pressed him down.
“I’m taking over,” he shouted over the din. “Stay here!”
Now the men returned with axes, and Thomas directed them at the windward shrouds. It took only a few axe blows to separate the straining shrouds, and the huge mast crashed over the side. The leeward shrouds came next whilst another sailor hacked at the main stay. The ship righted itself noticeably as soon as the dead weight of the mast was gone, and Thomas looked aft. The Captain was standing near the wheel whilst Lt. Brown was busy securing the mizzen mast.
Thomas was shaking by now, both from being wet in the howling storm, and from the shock of the lightning hit, but he forced himself to collect himself and his division.
“Mr. Allison, we must inspect the foremast for damage!”
It took courage to climb into the rigging, but it had to be done. Thomas felt he had to lead the men and he entered up first. Meanwhile, the rain was slackening and the raging storm was abating, but the ship was still tossed around violently by the choppy waves. He had to cling to the shrouds with all his strength, and it was hard work to reach the crosstrees. The foretop rigging appeared to be undamaged. There was a noticeable slack in the stays, but not dangerously so. Allsion concurred, but noted that with the mainmast gone it would be necessary to rig temporary backstays to the foremast and forestays to the mizzen to stabilize both.
“We had better get down to the deck,” Thomas shouted back, and they left the rigging in some haste, still fearing a second lightning strike.
Down at the foot of the mast, the Captain was waiting.
“How is the foremast, Mr. Grey?”
“No damages, Sir, but the stays’ll need some tightening and we’ll have to rig additional stays for the remaining masts. How are we faring, Sir?”
“Water’s rising in the well. The mast was split all the way down to the keelson. I expect some wreckage there. The carpenter is down in the hold to inspect the damage.”
“Thank you, Sir! This will take some work.”
“I expect so. Let’s get through the storm first.”
“How is Mr. Bingham, Sir?”
“Shaken and weak. I sent him down below. Not that there’s a mainmast anymore for him to oversee,” the captain answered with a show of levity.
As quickly as the storm had come up it also abated, leaving the badly damaged frigate wallowing in the choppy waves. Soon, they were able to shake the reefs from the topsails and set a course for the squadron.
The big ships, Rodney and Achilles, showed little damage, but Cassandra had lost her mizzen top in the storm. After a brief meeting with Admiral Wharton, Captain Benning returned and gave orders to heave-to for the night. There was some damage down around the keelson, and water was seeping in there, but the pumps could cope with it. Early on the next morning, Thomas oversaw a work party that had to cover the damaged section with a fothered sail dragged under hull. This reduced the water intake, allowing the crews on the pumps some rest.
This achieved, Andromeda set sail for Gibraltar, escorted by the Badger sloop. It was impossible to rig a jury main mast since the splintered stump of the old mast was too unstable, and they had to make do with an odd assembly of staysails rigged between fore- and mizzen mast.
“Looks like laundry day,” Adam Bingham joked from the hammock to which he was still confined. He still could not hold his hands steady or stand on his feet, but that did not keep him from commenting on the situation.
Andromeda coped well, but the creaking sounds from down in the hold unnerved the officers and the crew for the twelve days it took them to reach Gibraltar. It was September 10 when they dropped anchor.
Two days after their arrival, a dockyard official showed on board and examined the damages. His verdict was sobering. Whilst the dockyard could rig a new main mast, the damage to the keelson was beyond the capacity of the facilities. The official at first recommended that the ship be decommissioned and used as storage hulk, but under pressure from the Port Admiral he allowed that a dockyard in England could fully restore the ship.
This took over a week, and Captain Benning spent much of that time on shore with his wife. Thomas learned that Catrina Duncan and her daughters had been given passage to England, but she had left a letter for him with Mrs. Benning.
My dear Thomas, it read.
I have been notified that my request to be given passage to England with my girls was granted by His Excellency, and we shall embark in a few days. I had hoped for a chance to see you again and bid your farewell, but I cannot delay my departure anymore. Mrs. Benning has been exceedingly kind and supportive, but I cannot abuse her hospitality any longer. In particular, since I have received a letter from my late husband’s uncle, Mr. Alistair Duncan, of Dundee, Scotland, who offered to give us a home and his protection. Mr. Duncan is a merchant and ship chandler with sufficient means to support us.
This leaves me with the sad task of bidding you farewell, perhaps forever. Yet, should your duties ever bring you to Dundee or its surroundings, please do not fail to look me up, for I will always remember you with deep gratitude and fondness!
Always your friend
Catrina Duncan
Catrina had found a relative to support her and the girls, and she had left. Thomas had been looking forward to the chance of renewing their friendship, and he was dejected for a few days.
Another sad news came from the shore infirmary, where the surgeons determined that Lt. Adam Bingham had been rendered unfit for his duties by the injuries he had sustained when struck by lightning. This opened a place in Andromeda’s wardroom. However, the uncertainty over her future meant that no senior lieutenant would apply. In the end, a master’s mate who had passed examination for lieutenant only days before was appointed and joined them as 3rd lieutenant.
Thomas was now the 2nd lieutenant, but he felt that he was well prepared. Still, Bingham had become a good friend, and Thomas spent many of his watch-free hours in the infirmary, keeping him company and bringing him fresh food from the outside. Fortunately, Bingham was a man of means now, when the outstanding prize monies were paid out. Like Thomas, Bingham received close to £700, plus £100 in back pay. He also hoped for an employment in the Sea Fencibles service and for an eventual recovery. Thomas was in no position to help, and his father held no interest in parliament or elsewhere, but he wished his friend luck and a good recovery.
In late October, orders came from the Navy Board for Andromeda to sail to Bristol for repairs. To reduce the risk of her breaking apart en route, her main ordnance, ammunition stores and other supplies were to be removed. This made her unfit for a post captain, and their Lordships also sent orders for Captain Benning to sail with the Portsmouth packet and there to take command of HM frigate Caroline, 36.
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