fixed in place on the fore masthead. A cable ran from the capstan up to the block, then back down to the remnant of the main. The capstan bars were fitted into place and swifted, then the men put their chests to the bars and heaved. After a little initial resistance, the broken stub was pulled out like a bad tooth.
The carpenter did his measuring of the base of the broken mast and dropped into the jolly boat for a trip over to the ‘Charity Smith’ to examine her deck cargo. Selecting two spars that he thought would be the closest to fitting; he had the midshipman in charge of the brig order the huge wood spars hoisted over the side and dropped into the sea. The launch was waiting, and took their burden in tow to the Republicaine. As soon as the biggest timber was aboard, the carpenter, after another examination, started wielding his adze. Chips flew until the carpenter made another measurement and decreed the fit was good enough.
Courageous’ bosun, Mister Fletcher, along with the bosun’s mates of the three ships, had already repaired and laid out in place the various stays and shrouds that would hold the mast in place when it was upright. The cable from the foremast head was fastened to the spar, and the men on the capstan put their muscle to the bars.
As the new mainmast slowly lifted from the deck, men put lines to it, and others tailed onto those lines to keep the load from swinging. By nightfall, the now vertical mast had been dropped down onto its step, and the wedges hammered home. Seamen worked into the night tightening up the standing rigging, and by morning the mast was now secure. The big block on the mizzen had been transferred to the new main, and the work started over.
Phillips had been watching his crew, and found some of those recently inducted felons, were proving to be valuable men. Most, of course, were just able to supply their brawn, under the close supervision of the various petty officers, but a few seemed to be able to actually comprehend their tasks and to think ahead, making the job easier on everyone. He told his clerk to make note of certain of these men. He intended to promote a few from landsmen to ordinary seamen, just to demonstrate to the other landsmen it was possible to advance oneself.
One lad, a fourteen year old former pickpocket, destined to hang until he had been offered his life if he entered the Royal Navy, had begun assisting the sailmaker’s crew with the canvas. After making some initially hesitating climbs aloft, the lad was now scampering around in the tops like a monkey. Should he survive, Phillips intended to make him a topman.
By now, the former captain of the Charity Smith, Mister Wilkins, who had initially vocally proclaimed his delight with the Navy for rescuing himself and his brig was not so sure. Seeing naval crewmen rummaging his brig, taking what they needed for repairs, he became more indignant every hour. After a final bout of listening to the man bellowing that he wanted to know when he would be paid for the spars taken from his ship, Phillips lost his temper. It seemed the deck cargo was a private venture between Wilkins and a few crewmen. The timber was not the property of the ship owners, but of himself and some of his crew.
Phillips temporarily ousted his third officer, Acting Lieutenant Mullins from his tiny dog kennel cabin, and installed Wilkins there, with a Marine standing guard, with instructions to allow the captain to leave only for meals in the wardroom, and necessary visits to the head.
Mister Ackroyd, who had been supervising the repairs aboard the Republicaine assured Phillips she was now ready to sail. The question was now, who was to command her? Ackroyd, since the departure of Burns to the Inconnue, was now his senior officer, and might well be considered for promotion should the admiralty agree with his actions. Phillips decided to put Ackroyd in command of the Republicaine and moved Mullins up to be first officer of Courageous.