McWhyte's Frigate

A Stiff westerly breeze blew across an ocean writhing with waves as tall as houses. A lone ship struggled to make headway through a storm. A storm like no other the crew had ever seen. The small frigate crashed into the waves sending showers of water raining down on the deck of the ship drenching the entire crew to the bone. Bare feet struggled against the wind and the rain to maintain their footing on the wooden deck and in the rigging. Two crewmen were needed to hold the ship on a steady course as water and wind tried to rip them from their post. Flickers of lightning lit up the sky all around the ship like fingers reaching down from the heavens, and thunder sounded like cannon fire from the mightiest ship in the navy. The wind and thunder and calamity all around made it almost impossible to hear the captain’s commands.

For almost a week the H.M.S. Clash had battled the elements fighting her way across the Atlantic where she would assume her roll pursuing his majesties enemies and criminals in the Caribbean. Post-Captain Semus McWhyte stood with his men on the quarterdeck facing the wind and the rain, tempting the gods to do their worst. His cloak drenched through and hair matted down on his head, the captain remembered back to the first tragic time he was caught at sea in a storm.

As a boy of only 8 years old he had gone to sea with his father to learn the ways of the sailors’ in his family, which had become wealthy plying the trade routes from Ireland to England and beyond. He remembered the fear he felt as the lightning crashed down around him from the storm that seemed to appear from nowhere. The waves crashed into the small ship and the wind tore the ship to pieces as his father tried in vain to bring them to shore. He remembered the terror of being washed from the deck of the sloop and thrown into the swirling ocean. Waves crashed about him and the sea reached out like hands to bring him below the surface to his early demise. Yet it was not to be, he was thrown ashore on a beach, by the ocean that had taken his father and friends to their deaths.

Known throughout Ireland as a masterful sailor, some said he was blessed by Neptune himself when he was thrown off the ship as a boy. McWhyte was also an amazing swordsman, as many a gentleman has found during duels in the park. While still a midshipman McWhyte found fencing to be a great way to release the energy built up during idle time aboard ship, and continually challenged his fellow shipmates to matches. The crew even bet money with other ship and enjoyed watching the midshipman humiliate men almost twice his size. These skills along with his mothers influence and money, and some said beauty, had earned him quick promotions and command of his own ship.

At 5 feet 6 inches McWhyte was not an imposing figure, but a hard life on the sea had hardened his body and mind. Although only Thirty-two years of age, years at sea had taken a toll on the young man, his face was weather beaten and rough, a portion of his left ear was missing, taken by a French musket ball while he was a midshipman. A small scar, the shape of a bow decorated his right cheek just below his eye. Eyes colored a cold bluish-grey, the color of the ocean he loved so much. Blonde hair, bleached almost white by the sun was tied back into a tail on the back of his head. His hands were strong and scared from many battles with the ocean and men.

Now he stood on deck with his crew, facing the storm as he would any worthy opponent, looking on, knowing full well he would lead them through this storm as he had many times in the past.

“Man overboard!” cried a sailor on the forecastle. McWhyte knew there was nothing they could do to save the man. Turning the ship around in a storm like this could risk the ship and the entire crew. “Keep us on course” he yelled to the men at the helm as he ran to find out what had happened to the sailor. “Stupid landsman, Sir” said the captain of the Forecastle watch. “He was dozing when a breaker caught him off guard and threw him into the drink, Sir.” McWhyte could only offer a grunt in reply. Words would have been useless in the wind anyway. It was a mistake the man wouldn’t live to regret.

Two days later the storm finally stopped its utter torment on the Clash. The toll of the storm was only the one man thrown overboard and lost to the sea and at least two days worth of repairs to the ship. The royal yards on the main and fore masts had been destroyed and the riggings in the topgallant shroud were a mess.

The Clash was one of the newest and fastest ships in the navy although small for a frigate she boasted 36 guns and 234 men and officers. She was rated a fifth rate ship by the admiralty. She was McWhyte’s first command and he was lucky to have her, yet at times McWhyte found himself wishing to be back amongst the crew. To command a ship meant utter loneliness, this morning while the rest of the crew was going about making repairs on the ship, the young captain was sitting in his cabin eating breakfast when the alarm was raised that a sail had been spotted.

McWhyte grabbed his glass and raced barefoot to the deck. “Where away,” McWhyte asked the officer of the watch. “South by southwest” said the lieutenant of the watch. Where had the ship come from? Thought McWhyte as he put the glass to his eye, they were in the middle of the ocean. The chances of such a meeting were almost a million to one. McWhyte noticed the top gallants of a ship closing fast on his helpless frigate

“Clear the deck and make ready Lieutenant” yelled McWhyte. Feet rushed about the deck as guns were moved into position and the bulkheads below were removed. Marines climbed to their positions in the top gallants to snipe at the French gun crews, as the officers and midshipmen of the Clash prepared the gun crews for action. Hammocks from below were placed in the rigging to provide some protection from musket balls shot by the French marines. The ships surgeon prepared his crude tools and makeshift operating room in the ships hold.

As the ship closed the distance McWhyte knew his crippled ship stood little chance of surviving this encounter. Only the young captain cunning and luck would have to see them through.