Issue XIV

ContentsPART ONEArticles of War

PART TWOCrossroadsby Kim Reeman

PART THREEPipe All Hands!

PART FOUR‘The Only Victor’

The Bolitho Newsletter is published andcopyrighted by Highseas Authors Ltd.

This issue was originally released in 1990.

Douglas Reeman / Alexander KentPhoto by Kimberley Reeman

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Part OneArticles of War‘Articles of War are certainregulations for the betterment of thenavy, and may be altered at thepleasure of the King. They areprinted and hung up in the mostpublic place in every ship of theRoyal Navy and are ordered to beread aloud at least every month tothe ship's company.’

This was how the openinginstruction of the Act of

Parliament was worded, and whatwas to become the unwaveringguidance in the fleet, and allships, whether in company orsailing alone, perhaps thousandsof miles from any seniorauthority. Passed in 1749, the Articles, and there weresome thirty-six of them, were intended to supportevery commander and sea officer, whether he be incharge of a tiny armed transport like the ill-fatedBounty or the flagship of some powerful anddistinguished admiral. Ships sailing alone were always at risk, and notnecessarily from the King’s enemies. The meresthint of dissension between decks, let alone thedreaded suggestion of mutiny, made the Articles ofWar a captain's first line of defence, hence the needto read them aloud to his company every month as

a reminder of the consequences. ‘If any officer, mariner, soldier, or other personin the fleet shall strike any of his superior officers,draw, or offer to draw, or lift up any weaponagainst him, being in the execution of his office, onany pretext whatsoever, every such person beingconvicted of any such offence by the sentence of acourt-martial, shall suffer death . . .’ Just as they were read by a captain when a manwas brought aft for punishment: a flogging at thegangway, and the relevant charge underlined. Lieutenant William Bligh of the Bounty,probably the most maligned and slandered sea

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‘The Only Victor’ by English marine artistGeoffrey Huband

officer of all time, especially in the fictionalassassination of Hollywood, was a fine seaman,and his punishment-book is neither savage norunfair as is so often proclaimed. Another captain,Hugh Pigot of the frigate Hermione, was such asadist as to actually enjoy the degrading spectacleof a flogging, and he caused his ship to explode inthe bloodiest mutiny in British naval history. Ithappened in 1797, the time of the other greatuprisings at Spithead and the Nore against foulconditions and brutal discipline, which shocked anation in daily fear of a French invasion. Conversely, the same Articles which wereintended to protect the navy’s far-flung authorityand the men who acted in the King’s name, couldalso turn around and destroy them. ‘Every flag officer, captain, and commander inthe fleet, who, upon signal or order of fight, orsight of any ship or ships which it may be his dutyto engage, or who, upon likelihood of engagement,shall not make the necessary preparations for fight,and shall not in his own person, and according tohis place, encourage the inferior officers and mento fight courageously, shall suffer death, or suchpunishment as from the nature of the degree ofthe offence a court-martial shall deem him todeserve . . .’ It was often said that if a senior officer actedwith dash and skill while carrying out an attack inthe defence of vessels under his command, others,namely the Admiralty, would take the credit. If hemade a wrong decision, or failed to act to the letterof these same articles, he alone would take the

blame with a court-martial and all its grimconsequences as the end result. Even today, theArticles of War retain much of their originalcontent, so that unlike civil law an accused officermust prove his innocence, rather than have theprosecutor establish his guilt. The drama, the long drawn-out ceremony of acourt-martial must remain unrivaled in tension anddespair. From the boom of the warning gun as thecourt-martial jack breaks to the wind, it is a man’scareer, his reputation, and in many cases his verylife which is on trial. The moment of truth as theaccused is marched in with his escort for theverdict – will his sword, laid upon the court’s tablethroughout the proceedings, be pointed towardshim? If so, there is no hope left. If on the otherhand the hilt is nearest to him, what Herrick wouldcall ‘Lady Luck’ has triumphed. Even the highest ranks were not so secure thatthey could not suffer the same fate. As a result offailing to take Minorca from the French in 1756,Admiral the Honourable John Byng was severelycriticised both by the lords of Admiralty and by theKing himself. He was court-martialled, andcondemned to death. The following year, showinggreat fortitude on board HMS Monarque inPortsmouth where he took charge of his ownfiring-squad, Byng made his last signal to themand was shot dead. His execution and the interpretation of theArticles which found him guilty were to act like anicy hand on the shoulder of many a seniorcommander for a long time to come.

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Part TwoCrossroadsby Kim Reeman

D ouglas once said, ‘I am a great believer inFate,’ and as surely as fate brought us

together, so we are powerfully aware that it alsointroduced us to Geoffrey Huband. We were in Cornwall in the spring of 1985. Itook Douglas to Mousehole, where, although hehad lived for some time in the Duchy, he had neverbeen. While walking in its steep, narrow streets ourattention was caught by a painting in the windowof a gallery. A frigate and a cutter on a calm sea,suffused with the tranquil light of sunset or sunrise.Every detail was perfect: authentic, and unlikemany maritime paintings, technically accurate. Webought it, and Douglas, impressed not only by thetalent it demonstrated but by the familiar ‘feel’ andspirit of the ships of the period – Richard Bolitho’speriod – wrote asking the artist if he wouldconsider doing jacket paintings for the Bolithonovels. Our relationship with Geoffrey Hubandhad begun, or perhaps it had long been ordained. Geoffrey believes so. ‘I often reflect on thecircumstances of providence or fate that caused ourpaths to meet, a path that began for me many yearsago when I bought my first Reeman story, HMSSaracen. Subsequently I read many others, butwhether Kent or Reeman I always had the samefeeling, that I was envious of the opportunity toillustrate such exciting and authentic stories.’

Geoffrey Huband was born in Worcestershire in1945, and studied at Stourbridge College of Artand Victoria College, Manchester University. Onleaving college he taught, but in 1970 he moved toCornwall to paint full-time, and found in itsrugged, maritime beauty the inspiration forpaintings which are now commissionedinternationally. His nostalgic oil vignettes ofvillage life are very much in the ‘pleine air’tradition of the Newlyn School he admires; hechooses pure watercolour as the medium for hissplendid paintings of ships and the sea. ‘Visually I am intrigued by the abstractedqualities of maritime painting. The solidity ofhulls, the apparent delicacy of masts and spars, thefragile beauty of sails billowing or revealing theform of the masts as they are blown aback. I

Geoffrey Huband

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enjoyed the ordered tracery of rigging seen as abold statement against the bright sky . . . Myinterest in maritime painting is excited as much bythe physical appearance of ships as it is by theromance that time and history have endowed uponthe subject. I am interested in ships for their beautyas well as for their functional qualities, and I amfascinated by the ingenuity that has been displayedin their construction and development since earliesttimes. The focus of my interest centres, I think,between 1700-1800, a period I regard as the peakof achievement in the combination of function andbeauty in ships as well as architecture. The factthat this was also a time of intense scientificdiscovery, political change and international strifeoffers further possibilities of material for excitinghistorical paintings.’ In January 1988, while planning the preliminarysketches for With All Despatch, Geoffrey wasstruck by a car and seriously injured as he wascycling near his home in Cornwall. For a time hislife seemed in danger; certainly his career hung inthe balance as he struggled to overcome hisinjuries and regain the use of his right hand. Butthis remarkable man, in an act of sheerdetermination, not only managed to produce theprize-winning entry in an Armada 400 artcompetition, but while in hospital with his arm in aseries of slings and pulleys prepared faultlesssketches for With All Despatch. Within weeks,supported by his wife Jacqueline and their twochildren, he submitted the final painting. We salute their faith and their courage.

Part ThreePipe All Hands!

When I touched on this subject in a previousnewsletter it was because of questions I had

received from readers both here and overseas. Itseems that my brief mention under the heading ofNaval Customs only scraped the surface, so for thebenefit of newer followers of the Richard Bolithoseries I will endeavour to enlarge slightly on it. In the 18th and 19th century navy,communications within the complex world of afighting ship were as vital as any in a nuclearsubmarine. In the old ‘wooden-walls’ with theirovercrowded decks, towering masts andcomplicated criss-cross of rigging, the need forswift response to orders from aft was often critical.Officers shouting through their speaking-trumpetsfrequently went unheard in the din of wind andbooming canvas, so that the chain of commandmight lose all meaning in the bustle of making orreefing sail. The term pipe was an extension to other formsof passing orders, like the trumpet or the bugle, orthe dramatic rattle of drums when ‘beating toquarters’ on sighting an enemy. It was conveyedby a boatswain’s call, or small silver whistle whichcarried shrilly from deck to deck, to earn it therespected nickname of Spithead Nightingale. It isclaimed that the boatswain's call in one form oranother was in use at sea as far back as theCrusades in 1248, although more as a mark of rank

and respect. But it was put to proper work as aboatswain's call certainly as far back as the mid-seventeenth century. In today’s navy it is still used, although more toprecede a spoken command over a ship'sbroadcasting system or to announce some part ofthe daily routine. I can well recall my early-morning gloom when roused by the twittering calland the cry to all hands to ‘Lash up and stow!’That was when warships still carried hammocksfor those lucky enough to find spare hooks fromwhich to sling them! A rude awakening indeed! In the old sailing navy they served anotherpurpose, because with many of a ship’s companypressed into service from foreign merchantmen oreven enemy vessels which had been beaten inbattle, the language barrier was very real. Thelively calls had an ability to translate even the mostdifficult order, from hoisting boats inboard to theirtier, to swaying up embarrassed guests or seniorofficers in a boatswain’s chair, rather than risklosing them over the side as they attempted toboard a ship while under way. The latter formed the basis of piping the side,still in use as a salute and mark of respect for anadmiral or commanding officer when he enters orleaves a ship. But whereas today the actual pipes number onlytwelve, there were many more in the era of thesquare-riggers; some variations were even createdby a particular boatswain, perhaps to suit the needsof his own ship. The call itself has changed only a little in

appearance over the centuries, although inBolitho’s time it was somewhat smaller. The partswere named just as thoughtfully as any ship'stackle or armament (see diagram) and it markedthe authority of the man who carried and used it. From ‘Hands aloft to reef topsails!’ To ‘Allhands lay aft to witness punishment!’ the SpitheadNightingale was and is a part of our maritimetradition.

Part FourThe Only Victor

T he Only Victor by Alexander Kent is the 19thRichard Bolitho novel, and follows chrono-

logically Honour This Day. In February 1806 the frigate carrying ViceAdmiral Sir Richard Bolitho drops anchor off theshores of southern Africa. It is only four monthssince the resounding victory over the combinedFranco-Spanish fleet at Trafalgar, and the death ofEngland's greatest naval hero. Bolitho’s instructions are to assist in hasteningthe campaign in Africa, where an expeditionaryforce is attempting to recapture Cape Town fromthe Dutch. Outside Europe few have yet heard ofthe battle of Trafalgar and Bolitho’s news is metwith both optimism and disappointment as hereminds the senior officers that despite the victory,Napoleon’s final defeat is by no means assured. Bolitho is still brooding over the loss of his ownflagship, the old Hyperion; and at home his

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continuing personal troubles are brightened onlyby his love for Catherine, Lady Somervell, whilethey defy the scandal their relationship arouses inLondon society. Even after his return from Cape Town there islittle peace. A secret mission to Denmark almostends in disaster, and the resulting damage to hisinjured eye only adds to his determination to fightback, and win. When diplomacy fails, international events oncemore dictate Bolitho’s fate. The French are usingevery pressure on Scandinavia to close their portsto British trade; and the Danish fleet, vital to bothFrance and England with their depleted squadrons,becomes the richest prize of all. But the men who follow Bolitho’s flag intobattle are to discover, not for the first time, thatdeath is the only victor.