Dead Reckoning (18 page)

I
T WAS July 5th 1809 and Delancey was dining with his officers in the wardroom, following the usual Saturday routine. In the chair was the first lieutenant, the Hon. Stephen Northmore, and Delancey, remembering him as a bright fifteen-year-old midshipman, thought him absurdly young to hold so responsible a position. Then he did some mental arithmetic and realized, with a shock, that Northmore must be twenty-four—no, dammit, twenty-five. He was a handsome young man with fair hair, dark eyes, and bronzed complexion. Rather lazy in his younger days, he was becoming an admirable officer, there could be no doubt of that.

Edward Topley, second lieutenant, short, sturdy, and dark, perhaps two years younger than Northmore, would never be quite as good but had become very reliable; far better in that way than Fitzgerald had ever been. David Stock, third lieutenant, a son of the Bishop of Killala, was a born seaman, popular with the crew and endowed with good powers of leadership but with only moderate intelligence. Sevendale of the Royal Marines had proved himself an excellent soldier in Borneo and revealed, from time to time, a quiet sense of humour. Mackenzie, the surgeon, was a competent Scotsman, sometimes teased for his economical habits, and Finch, the purser, was as colourless and efficient as he had been from the first. Present
as guests were young Ledingham and another midshipman called Lewis, transferred from the flagship as a result of a quarrel.

The sea officers were all rather young as compared with their captain, who was forty-eight, but Delancey had trained them all himself. Or was that true? No, he reflected, they had really been trained by Mather. It was now for Northmore to train Ledingham and Lewis. He was no such teacher as Mather had been but he was a good man to copy and Ledingham had already picked up some of his mannerisms. Lewis had also been heard to say “Do it right,” an expression derived from Stock who had learnt it from Mather, a man Lewis had never known.

On the whole, Delancey had reason to be satisfied with his officers. He could only wish that his lower deck had been half as good. The frigate was very undermanned and the real seamen left were only a handful. His only consolation lay in the skill of the Chinese servants who did the laundry and who had provided, as usual, an excellent dinner. Ten days after leaving the Cape, they had not quite exhausted their fresh provisions. There were still, for example, some oranges left. As for the frigate herself, she was all but worn out. Rear-Admiral Stirling had seen that and had ruled out any idea of sending her to sea before the end of the hurricane season in March. There is a point beyond which repair of a ship becomes impossible and that point, for the
Laura,
would be reached in 1809; at the latest, in 1810. The work carried out at Bombay had merely postponed the inevitable. Looking around him, Delancey thought that the ship and her captain were almost equally worn out. Faced by a new French frigate out from France he would be lucky to avoid having to strike his colours. If he fought it
would not be to gain glory but merely to survive, he and the
Laura
having grown old together. If he went home in 1810 he would have been five years on a foreign station. It was enough and more than enough.

“Were you ever in Mauritius, sir?” It was Topley asking the question and Delancey had to bring his thoughts back to the present.

“No, my knowledge of the place is merely from hearsay. It is not an easy place to blockade.”

“Because of the reefs which surround it?”

“No, because there are three places to watch. The main French naval base is at Port Louis, there is another harbour at Grand Port a dozen miles away, and then a third is St Paul's in the other island of Bourbon; all three places defended by shore batteries. We can't be in strength at all three points and the returning French frigate will head for the one which is open at the time.”

“What I can't understand, sir,” said Northmore, “is why we haven't captured the islands and ended the nuisance.”

“Why, indeed?” replied Delancey. “One possible reason is that the French frigates have had only moderate success. They have captured country ships but have seldom intercepted an East Indiaman. Should the Company lose two or three of its own ships, the Indian governments would begin to take notice.”

“Can't the Navy take action by itself?” asked Stock.

“Not if we're to land troops. Those can only come from India.”

“But remember, sir,” said Sevendale, “that I could land twenty-one marines, or even twenty-two if you count the drummer boy.”

“Oh, yes, I should include the drummer boy,” replied Delancey, “He could terrify the French militia into surrender. They are said to number three thousand.”

“And amount, probably, to nothing.” Topley spoke with conviction but Delancey would not agree.

“We cannot be certain of that. Militia regiments in Britain are often little inferior to regular troops. But the same word is often applied to a rustic rabble without discipline or training.”

“And some rustics, sir,” said Sevendale, “are difficult to train. They often don't know right from left—”

“Let alone right from wrong,” added Mackenzie.

“So we shall have to land and inspect them,” Delancey concluded, “before we dare pronounce on their quality.”

“All the American States have a militia,” said Northmore. “A free Negro volunteered to join in New Jersey and was asked whether he would prefer the cavalry. “No, sir,” he replied, “When that thar trumpet sounds the retreat, I don't want to be hindered by no horse!”

The conversation became general but Delancey was still wondering about the armed forces of Mauritius. Could they really have transferred their loyalty from Louis XVI to the Republic and from the Republic to the Empire? Could they, at that distance, have absorbed any ideas about liberty, equality, or fraternity? Or did they merely want to live in peace? It was one thing to have names on a list and muskets in an armoury, quite another to have men actually on parade when the alarm was sounded. The one certainty in Delancey's mind was that Josias Rowley, to whom the Admiral had entrusted the blockade of the islands, would never confine himself to sailing back and forth. Captain Rowley, as he remembered him, was one of the ablest men in the service and would certainly pursue a more active course. He would push his patrols up to the high-tide mark and beyond.

“It is all very well to believe in discipline,” said David Stock,
“but some officers go a great deal too far. Did you hear of what happened when Captain Railton joined the
Falcon?
”

“I heard something about it,” said Northmore. “Wasn't there some sort of mutiny?”

“There was the beginning of one. Captain Railton had previously commanded the
Scorpion
and made for himself the reputation of a taut hand. He was transferred to the
Falcon
when the
Scorpion
was ordered home. When he read his commission, the men all refused to serve under him.”

“Allow me to interrupt,” said Delancey with a touch of asperity, “I'm not sure that I like this sort of gossip. But, having heard so much you had best hear the end of it. Admiral Stirling went on board the
Falcon
and asked the men whether any one of them had served under Captain Railton before. No one came forward. So they knew nothing about Railton, he asked, except from idle rumour? This was the fact and they had to admit it. So the men returned to duty and the
Falcon
sailed with convoy to India.”

“But isn't it true, sir, that Railton will flog the last man down from the yard-arm?” Stock evidently knew more than he had said.

“I have no idea. But I shouldn't condemn Railton on the basis of lower-deck gossip. I met him only briefly but I am told that he has a good record. Shall we leave it at that?”

Delancey could not allow talk against a senior officer and young Stock looked properly ashamed of himself. He and the others probably thought that the old man was becoming pompous. The fact remained, however, that Delancey had heard the same rumours himself. There had been something like mutiny on board the
Scorpion
and before that in the frigate of which Railton had been first lieutenant. He wondered for a moment whether Stirling had acted with sufficient care.

Three days later (July 8th) Delancey wrote to Fiona at some length:

My dearest Fiona—To understand this letter you will need an atlas open at the map of Africa. Alongside Africa, on the right, you will find the big island of Madagascar. Beyond it again you will find the small islands of the Ile de France (also called Mauritius) and the Ile Bourbon (also called Réunion). The Seychelles comprise a group of islands which also, in theory, belong to France. The white inhabitants there number about two hundred, mostly deported convicts, and about twice as many slaves. These islands change each time a man-of-war calls there, but this is merely a matter of hoisting different flags. Failing to capture the French islands, we have had to blockade them, which is tedious work. We are the cats and the mice, at present, are reduced to two, the
Semillante
(32) and the
Canonniére
(48).

The bigger French island is Bourbon or Réunion but it is the other island, the Ile de France or Mauritius, which is the more important. It centres on Port Louis, which is deemed to be impregnable, but there is another harbour, less strongly defended, on the other side of the island. This is called Grand Port and there is a town there called Mahebourg. The interior of the island is mountainous and the coastline is rocky, fringed with reefs which are said to make a landing difficult or impossible. The population is very mixed and includes a high proportion of Negro slaves, used in the cultivation of sugar and coffee. The work of maintaining some sort of blockade is likely to be tedious and quite ineffective in curtailing the depredations of their
men-of-war. On returning from a cruise, a French frigate will be warned by signal as to the whereabouts of our blockading squadron and will make accordingly for one of the three harbours available. My plan would be to conquer both islands and so have the chance to go home! I must first, however, secure for myself the appointment of Governor-General—an office which is not even vacant!

Remember me to my neighbours in Guernsey and believe me

Your most affectionate husband,

Richard Delancey

At the end of August 1809 Delancey reported on board the
Raisonable
(64) off Port Louis and was once more in the presence of Josias Rowley. Aged forty-three, Rowley had been in the navy all his life and was the grandson of Admiral Sir William Rowley who went to sea in 1704. His uncle had been Admiral Sir Joshua Rowley, his cousin was a captain now serving in the Mediterranean. Fortunate in his service connections, he had not been quite as lucky in his career. The only battle in which he had taken part was Sir Robert Calder's action off Finisterre, an affair which ended Calder's career and did little for the reputation of anyone else. But Rowley's ability was known and he made an instant impression on everyone who met him. He was a fine-looking vigorous Irishman, with a ready smile but penetrating glance. His ship was in impeccable order, his own appearance to match. He radiated confidence and vitality and was never at a loss. Greeting Delancey as an old friend, he told him at once what the
Laura
's function would be:

“My squadron comprises the
Raisonable, Leopard
(50),
Laurel
(22), and
Otter
(16). At Port Louis the French have a powerful
frigate, the
Canonnière
but little else. Their other frigate, the
Semillante
had an action with the
Terpsichore
in February—you will have heard about it—and has since been disarmed and dismantled. We hear that she is to go back to France as a merchantman. Plans for the capture of the French islands have been discussed and I have been ordered to collect information about them and more particularly about their state of defence. Were there an effective French squadron at Port Louis, I should find it difficult to reconnoitre the landing places, but we now have our chance. I think it probable that the French will be reinforced and so we must do what we can in the meanwhile. For the task of reconnaissance I need a good seaman with brains and a knowledge of French.”

“And one perhaps whose frigate is old and expendable?”

“That, too. Can you do it?”

“Tell me first, sir, what questions I am to answer?”

“There are two questions. First, I want to know where we could land an army. Second, I want to know what resistance we can expect after the army has been landed. Given information on those two points, the staff in India can draw up a detailed plan. We have little idea at present as to what force we need or where we are to put it ashore.”

“I understand, sir. And I must assume that we shall need to have contact with people ashore?”

“We have none as yet. We have brought from the Seychelles, however, a man called Henri Lestrange who knows the Ile de France and who claims to have royalist sympathies.”

“He is, I suppose, a convict?”

“Oh, yes. His offence could, of course, have been political.”

“No doubt, sir.”

“He is at present on board the
Otter
but I'll send him to you.”

“Thank you, sir. He may well be useful, especially if he is a pilot for the French islands.”

“He is not, but he has friends ashore, or so he says.”

“I'll do my best, sir.”

“Dine with me and meet my officers. The master, Mr Gavin, has made an improved chart of the coast around Port Louis. Learn what you can from us before you work on the problem.”

It did not appear, however, that much had so far been discovered about the Ile de France. Its most interesting feature, to the blockading ships, was the signal station on a hilltop behind Port Louis. Apart from that the approach to that chief harbour was defended by an almost invariably adverse wind and a serried row of cannon facing the sea. Wherever a landing was to be planned it would never be there. Lestrange, when he arrived, turned out to be a small, white-faced, and untidy man aged about sixty. He was, he explained, a royalist, opposed to the republicans and even more opposed to the Corsican usurper. He had previously been associated with Oliver de Grandpré of St Malo but had parted company with him when Grandpré made his peace with Napolean. In considering plans for capturing Mauritius, Grandpré had rejected Baie du Tombeau, Pointe aux Canonniers, Grande Rivière, and La Rivière Noire. His advice had been to land at Baie aux Tortues. To do that now was out of the question.