Dead Reckoning (19 page)

“Why?” asked Delancey.

“Because his recommendation is too widely known. General Decaen will have provided against any landing there.”

“What place do you advise?”

“At Grand Port.”

“And what sort of resistance might we expect from the garrison and the National Guard?”

“Well, I should judge the garrison to be very weak. I have been assured that only four hundred and ninety men paraded for the funeral of Governor Malartic, every man present who was not actually on the sick-list. The National Guard is supposed to number about eleven hundred but there would never be more than eight hundred actually present, and those ill-trained and poorly disciplined.”

Lestrange went back to the
Otter
and Delancey sent for Sevendale telling him what Lestrange's advice had been. They discussed it as they paced the sunlit quarter-deck.

“In my opinion,” said Sevendale, “Lestrange is right about Baie aux Tortues. It has been too much talked about. His idea about Grand Port is, to my mind, nonsense.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, sir, look at the island.” Sevendale pointed towards Port Louis, recently renamed Port Napoléon, with wooded hills rising to jagged peaks in the background. “The centre of the island is occupied by mountains rising to over 2,500 feet with a sort of plateau between them. Port Louis is the capital, the place we must occupy. Grand Port is on the opposite side of the mountains with no good roads in between.”

“And what about Lestrange's estimate of the garrison and National Guard?”

“It is out of date, sir. General Decaen brought with him well over a thousand more men. As for the National Guard, I should suppose that the paper strength is greater than he supposes but that the numbers do not signify.”

“And what landing place would you advise?”

“Well, sir, we must capture Port Louis and we can assume that most of the garrison is there. So we do not
want to be too distant, as we should be at Grand Port. Neither, however, do we want to be too close as at Baie du Tombeau. I should assume that we shall meet with some resistance wherever we land, that a message will then go to Decaen, and that he will send troops to meet us, taking two hours, say, to collect them and have them ready to march. I think that we want five hours ashore before those troops arrive. If we allow another hour to deal with the local opposition, let us call it six hours after landing before our troops are ready for battle. I consider therefore that the landing place should be fifteen to twenty miles from Port Louis. The exact place is a question of seamanship.”

“Thank you, Mr Sevendale. I accept your calculations as to time and distance.”

“They are very approximate, sir. I have taken no account of the state of the roads.”

“About that we know too little. Given the right distance, however, we should be in Port Louis on the day after we have landed.”

“We should leave it no later, sir, or Decaen will otherwise have time to withdraw his garrisons from the far side and the other end of the island.”

“And what is the size of force we should land?”

“Two thousand infantry, with artillery and engineers, bringing the total to two thousand five hundred.”

“I am most grateful to you. You have evidently given the matter most careful thought.”

Delancey knew that he would have to do the rest of the planning himself. Going to his cabin he placed the chart on the table and studied it afresh. The required distance northwards would bring him to Cap Malheureux, opposite the island known as the Gunner's Quoin (Coin de Mire on the chart). The same distance southwards would bring him to the mouth of La Rivière Noire or else to La Rivière Tamarin. Neither area offered any sort of
harbour for a ship but both of them seemed to be easily accessible by boat. Which was preferable? The northern coast seemed to offer the better anchorage outside the reef, in ten to twenty fathoms. If that were so, he would have to explore the north coast without showing too much obvious interest in it and then stage a raid on some point to the southward, preferably at about the same distance from Port Louis. Having made these decisions, he issued his orders and sailed on his mission. There followed a week of intensive exploration, with casual cruising each day and boat expeditions each night. Every gap in the reef was tested and measured, with soundings entered on a master chart. It became clear in the end that Mapou Bay was the place for the landing and La
Rivière Noire for the testing raid. When the
Laura
finally rejoined the blockading squadron, Delancey was able to make a firm and detailed report. It was accepted at once and he presently took on board a detachment of a hundred specially chosen soldiers under Captain Stenning, Lieutenant Pinsent, and Ensign Hodges. They comprised volunteers from different regiments, all of them now armed with rifles (rather than with the ordinary musket) and they wore a colonial uniform in dark green. They were marksmen whose training had begun at Shorncliffe and ended with boat-pulling and elementary seamanship at Dover. Off duty they affected laxness of discipline and minor eccentricities in accoutrements. Unimpressive as they were in appearance, Delancey was assured that they were demons in battle.

The landing was to take place at daybreak on September 24th. The
Laura
made her approach well after midnight, towing the three large boats which had been supplied for the occasion. There was little moonlight but there was no missing the landing place, which was close to a mountain called La Morne de la Rivière Noire, clearly silhouetted against the sky. The wind was faint and the frigate went silently through the water, which shoaled rapidly after the river-mouth had been reached. When in ten fathoms Delancey hove to but did not anchor for fear of making too much noise. Somewhere to starboard the French had a battery with barrack buildings some distance in rear, the cannon actually bearing on the place where the boats were to beach. A silent signal brought the landing craft alongside and the infantry scrambled aboard two of them, leaving the third to Sevendale and his men. Ledingham and Lewis went with the troops, Stock with the marines. The frigate's own launch was manned only by seamen, led by Topley, and Northmore, in command of the whole operation, went in a cutter which brought the number of boats to five. Northmore and Stenning were given a quiet word of warning at the last moment:

“Remember, gentlemen,” said Delancey, “what we have been told to do. We are not trying to conquer the island. We are not even trying to take prisoners, although two or three would be welcome for questioning. We merely want information on two points. First, we want to know how long it will be before troops arrive from Port Louis. Second, we want to discover whether the National Guard need be taken seriously. My guess is that the artillerymen on the spot will be regular gunners, the infantry supporting them will be National Guard, the troops coming to the rescue will be regular infantry. By tomorrow we shall know whether I am right.”

The boats pushed off and vanished into the darkness while the frigate made sail and presently dropped anchor to the southward, outside what he guessed to be the battery's arc of fire. All was silent again save for the noise of the breakers along the shore. As Delancey paced the deck the sky turned pale behind
the mountain, which loomed black and menacing. All was silent and Delancey wondered whether his landing party could have lost direction. He reflected, however, that this was impossible. From where they were to land they had only to follow the shore to their right.

He thought again about the men who were leading the attack. Stenning was a gentleman, young and adventurous, who had been in battle before. Pinsent was a promoted sergeant with still more experience. Hodges was a mere boy, under fire for the first time. They were to attack the barracks, leaving the battery to the seamen and marines, whose task it would be to put the guns finally out of action. Spiking the guns was not enough, he had emphasized, and Topley knew exactly what to do.

He peered again into the darkness, seeing nothing but made aware of the scent from the land. What was it? Wild acacia? Trochetia? An hour passed as he paced the deck, the eastern sky turning from pale silver to pale gold. What could have gone wrong? There came at last the sound of a distant musket shot, followed a few minutes later by a volley. After that the firing was continuous. Then there followed the boom of cannon and a splash where the shot had fallen both short and wide. So poor was the French aim that Delancey decided to stay where he was, theoretically a sitting target. The ineffective cannonade went on for twenty minutes and then abruptly ceased.

“Man the capstan!” Delancey ordered and the frigate sailed again towards
the river-mouth, dropping anchor again in eight fathoms. Daylight now revealed the union flag hoisted over the battery. From further inland came the sound of musketry becoming more distant, less frequent, and finally dying away. Delancey's gig was in the water and he chose this moment to go ashore.

The distance was about a mile but the tide was making and the river-mouth soon narrowed to the point where the landing craft were beached and guarded by sentries. Landing there, Delancey followed a path to the right, accompanied by his coxswain and two armed seamen. On his right were the rocks which bordered the river-mouth, beyond them the dramatic profile of La Morne de la Rivière Noire and the
Laura
at anchor. On his left there was thick undergrowth, heavy with scent and loud with the noise of birds and insects. “A beautiful island,” he thought, “too good for the French!” It was very hot, however, and he was perspiring freely. After perhaps half a mile he emerged from the shade of trees and was promptly challenged, “Halt! Who goes there?” Remembering the password he answered “Black River,” and was allowed to go on, saluted by the boatswain's mate.

As he approached the battery position he heard the sort of noise which he associated with a blacksmith's shop, the clink of hammer on anvil. When he reached the battery, Northmore reported to him. “All well, sir. No casualties, three prisoners. We are knocking the trunnions off and rolling the gun barrels into the sea. All the powder is now wet and we shall roll the shot after the guns. The prisoners are locked in the magazine.” He pointed to a stone-built hut in rear of the gun platform.

“Well done!” said Delancey. “Now show me the barracks.” They walked back the way they had come but followed a path which branched to the right. This brought them to another sentry post and so to a group of white-painted wooden huts with a stockade on the side which faced the sea. Here Stenning reported to him. “All well, sir. Two men wounded and one wounded prisoner. The enemy fled inland, leaving five men killed, and we have seen nothing of them since.”

“That is, since five o'clock?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are there any stables here?”

“Stables, sir? Yes, I think there are.”

Stenning led the way to a hut detached from the rest with a half-door and a characteristic smell. There was hay in a manger and some water left in a bucket, with stalls for two horses and every sign of their having been occupied.

“Your wounded prisoner is of the National Guard?”

“Yes, sir. So were the men whose bodies we found.”

“So the two horses would be for the commander of the post and his orderly.”

“No doubt, sir.”

“The orderly will be riding to Port Louis with a message. The commander will have gone with his troops in the same direction but will halt after crossing the Tamarin River.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“How many men will he have?”

“Over a hundred, I should guess, thirty of them gunners.”

“So he won't come back until he is reinforced. The orderly must ride, say, twenty miles. Troops must assemble and move in this direction. Cavalry could be here by about two in the afternoon, infantry by about four or five.”

“Do they have any cavalry, sir?”

“I don't know. This is our chance to find out. Now I'll have a word with your wounded prisoner.”

This sole living and present representative of the National Guard was an insignificant Creole in a rather smart uniform, crippled for life by a bullet through the ankle. Captain Stenning nodded his satisfaction. “I always tell my men to fire low,” he muttered. The prisoner explained meanwhile that he was a barber by trade but had been called up some months since, much
to his annoyance. He had no love for Napoleon and cared nothing for the glory of France. He could boast now that he was a soldier who had been in battle, but what good would that do him? He would rather have a sound ankle. He was a married man with two children and all he had wanted was to live in peace . . .

As they walked away, Stenning asked Delancey whether it was significant that the prisoner showed so little loyalty towards Napoleon.

“Of no significance at all,” replied Delancey. “He was telling us what he thinks we want to hear. But we have fairly measured the heroism of the National Guard. How long did they stand their ground?”

“For about five minutes, sir.”

“That is what they are worth, then. The French gunners are better but I doubt whether they have had the ammunition to spare for practice. Their shot came nowhere near the
Laura
despite the fact that they were not themselves under fire.”

Delancey joined Northmore at the battery position and shared a meal with the seamen and marines, Then he gave orders for evacuating the post:

“Mr Northmore,” he said, “Captain Stenning will remain with his men to meet the French assault when it comes. He has orders to withdraw, however, when attacked. Mr Topley will place his seamen in position to guard the boats. Mr Sevendale will place his men between the boats and the barracks so that the soldiers can pass through the marines' position as they go to embark. The marines will then withdraw in turn, covered by the seamen who are ashore. Is that clear? I shall now return to the ship and leave you in command.”