Dead Reckoning (26 page)

Beaver continued his relentless monologue for two hours. He then invited questions, all those from officers junior to him being answered rather sharply. When various other problems had been solved, Delancey brought forward a suggestion of his own:

“You told us, Captain Beaver, that the disadvantage of landing in Mapou Bay lies in the lack of deep water near the beach. Covering fire will have to come, therefore, from gunboats. In rough weather such fire is likely to be inaccurate and even dangerous to our own side.”

“That is correct, Captain Delancey. Certain risks we have to accept.”

“We should minimize them, however, if we deliberately grounded a frigate opposite the chosen beach and used her as a solidly based battery from which the beach could be swept by close-range fire with grapeshot.”

“An attractive idea but I hardly think that the Admiral would be willing to sacrifice a frigate for such a purpose.” He spoke sarcastically, looking round at the other captains for agreement. A number of them smiled and two of them laughed. But Delancey was not to be discouraged.

“It so happens, sir, that the frigate I have the honour to command is worn out and will be broken up as soon as the island has been conquered. I think I may say that she is expendable.”

“Indeed! That certainly alters the case. But how near to the
beach could you go? Your fire would be ineffective beyond half a mile.”

“Agreed, sir. But remember that I can empty the frigate first and bring her in fight. She will be wrecked, moreover, and I need not consider the problem of refloating her. In these circumstances I can probably bring her to within five hundred yards of the shoreline.”

“Well, Captain Delancey, I thank you for this offer and am myself prepared to accept it, provided that the Admiral agrees. Any other questions?”

After some brief discussion of minor problems, the conference broke up and its members adjourned for dinner as guests of Captain Broughton.

Delancey found himself sitting between Captains Parker and Henderson, the former a high-spirited young man of good family, the latter a middle-aged officer whose acting appointment was due to Captain Rennie's death from malaria. Beaver sat with Broughton, Fraser, Gordon, and Drummond at the other and more senior end of the table.

“Thank God that's over!” said Parker as his glass was filled, “I thought that Beaver was going to talk until sunset, each hour of it more tedious than the last. I nearly fell asleep and wish to God that I had.”

“Captain Beaver,” said Delancey, “is a very conscientious officer.”

“Conscientious! I would call him a bore. As for that confounded conference, every minute of every hour was ten thousand years of living death! All these details of organization are all very well but you know as well as I do that it doesn't happen like that. All is chaos and then the enemy hauls down the tricolour. Your health, sir!”

Delancey replied to the toast and then turned to Captain Henderson.

“Are you impressed with the staffwork?”

“As much as I ever am. To men like Beaver the plan is more important than beating the enemy. What struck me, however, was that he forgot to ask you the obvious question.”

“And what is that?”

“He never asked what you are to do with your men after the troops are ashore.”

“True enough, he didn't. My answer would have been that my crew will follow the army into Port Louis and occupy all naval installations before the enemy can destroy them.”

“And a good answer at that, saying nothing about your real motive.”

“What is my real motive?”

“Isn't it obvious? You want to destroy the
Laura
before the experts can say that she is capable of repair. Oh, I know about her leaking and all that. But you want to make sure of it!”

“And I thought I was being so subtle!”

“With the
Laura
written off, you can shift with your crew to the
Bellone
or
Diomede.
”

“But the Admiral, surely, might give either frigate to some follower of his own?”

“He can't give both because he has no means of manning them. You have a crew which will be spare.”

“He could distribute my crew and send me home as a supernumerary.”

“What, after your noble self-sacrifice at Mapou Bay? He wouldn't dare think of it. No, you will have made yourself the hero of the hour, leading the First Division in under enemy fire.”

“But there won't be any enemy opposition. You know that as well as I do.”

“You and I know it, so does Rowley and so does Tomkinson, not to mention Willoughby and Pym. We all know it, we who have been blockading the damned island for so long. But the newcomers—the Admiral and Beaver included—know something different. They see us storming the beach under shot and shell, earning knighthoods for the directing staff. You will gain the credit for all the risks they think you are to run. Good luck to you! I shan't be as fortunate this time but I shall have learnt something useful for another occasion.”

“You have convinced me that I am an intriguer and a cowardly scoundrel.”

“No, sir. You are a brave man and a good officer. I would not have dared to speak so freely if I had not known that. But ours is a service in which we have to watch our own interests. We should fare ill if we relied only on our merits.”

“Very true. My motives are a little more complex than you seem to think.”

“Of course they are, sir. There will always be several reasons for anything you do. I was a lieutenant until quite recently, as you know, and have gossiped with other lieutenants, yours included. I should never make the mistake of underestimating Captain Delancey.”

“Perhaps you overestimate him instead. A health to the heroes who are first ashore at Mapou Bay!”

“I drink to that, sir!”

Captain Parker now claimed Delancey's attention.

“Come, sir, we want your opinion. I have been having an argument with Major Dwyer about the resistance to be expected
from the Creole militia.” Delancey looked across at the red-faced soldier opposite and bowed slightly. “We have each given our opinion,” said Parker, “may we now have yours? How Iong, will they remain steady under fire?”

“Five minutes.”

“Ha! I gave them ten minutes, the Major allowed them half an hour. Your guess is nearer mine!”

“But I am not guessing. I have been ashore here and engaged them.”

“You have been
ashore
here, sir?” asked the astonished soldier.

“We of the blockading squadron have all been ashore from time to time. We have been around here for years. But I was particularly ordered to test the prowess of the militia. I engageed them, watch in hand, and reported afterwards that they would stand their ground for exactly five minutes.”

“Then they, won't give us much trouble on the beach?”

“They won't be on the beach Major. We know that we mean to land at Mapou Bay but the French have not been told about that. We decided not to warn them. There are, as they know and as we all know, a dozen places where we could come ashore. How can they defend them all? The opposition we may encounter must come from Fort Malartic and it has four miles to come—not too far, if they see our fleet in time. As for the militia, you must remember that these warriors are all sugar-planters, tradesmen, shopkeepers, and clerks. They can't be kept from their ordinary work for months at a time. They won't be assembled, in fact, until our fleet is seen. But how long will it take to collect them, check their names, issue them with ammunition, fall them in by companies, and give them the order to march? What would you say, Major? Four hours?”

“It might be done in four hours if they all lived in a town. But many of these, I should assume, live half-way up some mountainside. I think I should allow ten hours to collect half of them.”

“Exactly. So we shall find them in a defensive position somewhere between Grande Baie and Port Louis, and most probably at the Tombeau River.”

Later that day Delancey received a message, accepting his plan for beaching the
Laura.
The Admiral was deeply appreciative of his offer and considered it a material contribution to the planned operation. He confirmed the arrangement by which Delancey should transfer with his crew to the
Minerve,
the name of which ship would become
Minerva.
In his reply, sent by the flagship's boat, Delancey proposed that his crew should land and take part in further operations ashore, ending in a position to guard the naval installations at Port Louis. This further proposal was accepted by signal and Delancey began to draw up his own plans accordingly. On this occasion Fabius might find it more difficult to escape.

The landing itself took place on November 29th, the fleet dropping anchor at about midday. After the signal had been made “Prepare For Battle” the ships moved into position and the boats began to assemble as directed.

Delancey had emptied the
Laura
previously, sending all her stores to other ships and she now carried little more than her guns, ammunition, and crew. Looking over the side, Topley remarked that they could at least see what they were doing. This was true enough for the water was crystal-clear and the coral on the sea bottom was perfectly visible in ten fathoms. In perfect weather, with bright sunlight and a good breeze, the
Laura
went ahead of the landing craft, Delancey taking charge of the deck
as she passed the gap in the reef and holding a steady course for the chosen beach. The water shoaled as the leadsman gave warning from the chains and it looked at one stage as if Delancey meant to run his frigate ashore. So he did in the long run but his immediate tactics were more cautious. He watched the shore through his telescope for signs of the enemy and then edged further in under easy sail.

The
Laura
was now in six fathoms, soon afterwards in five, the coral sea bottom having given place to shingle, each stone visible from the surface. Beyond four fathoms the ship would have run aground but this must not happen except with her broadside bearing on the land. Foreseeing this moment, Delancey had his boats already lowered and manned and he now used them to tow the frigate sideways, having taken in all sail apart from the mizen staysail and jib. Northmore now went ahead in the gig, sounding continually and signalling the results back to Delancey. Backing and filling, the old
Laura
did well on her last voyage, responsive as ever to the helm, the routine silence broken only by the creaking of the pumps. The frigate was now in four fathoms and Delancey could see, glancing over the side, that her keel was only just clear of the bottom. How far was she now from the beach? Six hundred yards? He must close the range if he possibly could. A signal from Northmore told of deeper water ahead and the ship was made to sidle in that direction. Four fathoms and a half! What should he do?

At this time Northmore's boat was seen rowing back towards the frigate, presumably with something to report. Delancey realized, at the same time, that the First Division must be subject to some delay. Had everything gone according to plan, the leading gunboats should be abreast of him by now. They were still, in fact, near the supporting ship, having had no signal to advance.
Given so much delay, Delancey could beach the
Laura
at his leisure. Through his telescope he could see a lot of movement among the boats; the result, no doubt, of some being in the wrong position. Beaver, he thought, would never allow the assault landing to take place until the organization was perfect. Staff officers, he reflected, are often too much like maiden aunts. The result, anyway, was that he had time to hear what Northmore had to say. Not content with the speaking-trumpet, that officer was coming about to report.

“Sir, I have made what could be a useful discovery. Over there on our larboard bow, at five hundred yards distance, there is an underwater ridge at right angles to the shore.”

“There is nothing like that shown on the chart.”

“There wouldn't be, sir. We are studying the differences between three and four fathoms.”

“That is true. And what is the depth of water on your ridge?”

“Three fathoms, shingle, with a gradual slope on this side, rising from six fathoms and a half.”

“And what happens beyond?”

“Another dip and another ridge.”

“Thank you, Mr Northmore. A useful discovery. Tell your boat's crew to come aboard. I shall need all hands.”

Sweeping the shore with his telescope, Delancey could see no sign of the enemy. Looking seawards, he could see a great deal of activity but no signal for the assault. He knew now that he had time enough.

“All hands make sail!” Delancey's sudden shout took his men by surprise—they had rather expected him to anchor. After a moment of hesitation, the men ran to their stations.

“Away aloft!” There was a rush of topmen to the weather shrouds, followed at once by the afterguard.

“Lay out!” The seamen scrambled along the yards and took position along them.

“Man the topsail sheets! Let fall! Sheet home!” The sails dropped and filled.

“Down from aloft!” The men threw themselves down the shrouds and dashed for the halyards.

“Man topsail halyards!—Haul taut!—Hoist topsails!—Man topgallant sheets and halyards!—Sheet home!—Hoist away!”

As order followed order the sails thundered and flapped and the frigate should, by rights, have been under way. But Delancey had turned the ship into the wind, checking her way until all sails were set. There was a good off-shore breeze with occasional gusts of wind, and Delancey, choosing his moment, put the ship on course for the underwater ridge which Northmore had described. The sails filled, the frigate heeled slightly and gathered way. The bow-wave formed, the water foamed past to become a frothing wake. On her last voyage the old
Laura
looked the part.

She was doing perhaps six knots when she took the ground. There was a grinding and shuddering, followed by a crash as the foretopmast went over the side. It seemed for a minute as if the end of the road had been reached but the sails were still pulling, the shingle underfoot gave way and the ship lurched forward for a further fifty yards before coming to a halt, deliberately and finally wrecked.