Dead Reckoning (6 page)

“Not bad,” said Delancey to Northmore, “but I wonder who thought of that one—Captain Tarleton or Mr Topley?”

“I think, sir, it would be Topley. He has listed suitable quotations by chapter and verse and arranged them alphabetically. That one will have come under the heading ‘Confusion.'”

“Indeed? Mr Topley is a promising officer and I incline to think that he is right. If all goes well, the confusion of the
Tourville
shall indeed be remembered.”

“And where, sir, will the French ambush be laid?”

“Near the entrance to the Straits of Malacca, where an interception is certain.”

Was he really as confident as that? Would he sight the French off Pulo Aur? And would they launch a half-hearted attack, remaining at long range so being unable to have a clear view of the
Upton Castle?
Luckily for his peace of mind, he had a great respect for Woodfall and Tarleton. As for the Indiamen, they were in a position to fire a great number of guns. Whether they would hit anything was another matter. They were wretchedly undermanned, as he knew, with crews which included Goanese, Chinese, and Malays; and the
Upton Castle
would not be much
better in this respect than the others. Native seamen were well able to do the simpler tasks on deck but they were of little use in battle and few of them had the physical strength needed for working aloft. The East Indiamen could be made to look formidable, above all by assuming and keeping a tight formation, but it would be unwise to expect much else from them. They were the finest and certainly the biggest merchantmen under the British flag. From the point of view of British trade and insurance, from the viewpoint of Leadenhall Street or Lloyd's Coffee House, the successful interception of the Indiamen would be an almost unthinkable disaster. And all that stood between the French and the China Fleet was the frigate
Laura
with Delancey's ingenuity and Woodfall's presence of mind. Pondering the odds as he paced the deck, Delancey reflected that he had been dealt a poor hand of cards—and the stake was tremendous.

The French appeared to windward off Pulo Aur when the convoy was nine days out of Macao. Delancey's heart sank when three sail were reported and sank still more when they were identified later as a ship-of-the-line and two frigates, one of the largest and one of a smaller class. The
Tourville
flew a Commodore's pennant and was commanded (as afterwards known) by Etiènne Garnier. The larger frigate was clearly the
Romaine,
the other was finally identified as the
Charente.
It was the last-named ship which was ordered to reconnoitre the convoy, approaching near enough to be fired upon by the
Upton Castle.
It was evening and Garnier decided to defer his attack until the following day. What he could see was a well-formed line of fifteen Indiamen with an escorting man-of-war and a dozen country ships forming a cluster to leeward. The man-of-war appeared to be a smaller third-rate, no match for the
Tourville.
The numbers were entirely consistent with the reports he had received and he
was not surprised to see the man-of-war. One of Popham's ships had been damaged at the Cape—that much was known—but he would almost certainly have sent another and she would have had time to reach Canton before the change of the monsoon. He noticed, finally, that the sternmost Indiaman was half a mile from the next ahead. The convoy was under easy sail, as if ready to give battle, but that last ship was still unable to keep in station, being probably a dull sailer under an inexperienced master. Was that likely, though? Well, it was quite possible. The appointed master might be sick or might have died. The captain of the
Charente,
Jean Delisle, reported that this last Indiaman was poorly handled. His study of her, through the telescope, failed to reveal the fact that she was towing a sail astern. But Garnier, while accepting the laggard at her face value, was not quite certain about his chief opponent. Could she be a disguised Indiaman? Such a trick had been played before. In the final resort her real force could only be tested in action.

At daybreak the situation was almost unchanged, the convoy moving slowly southwards, but the sternmost ship had dropped still farther astern and could be seen attempting to make more sail. A signal was being made from the man-of-war, enforced by the firing of a gun. Garnier decided to grasp his opportunity. Directing Delisle in the
Charente
to cut off the laggard, he himself made sail towards the British man-of-war, keeping the
Romaine
in his wake. Once the man-of-war was under fire, he could then send the
Romaine
to cut off the next two Indiamen. If he took only the three of them it would be a considerable success. Were the British man-of-war crippled, on the other hand, he could pursue the convoy for days, capturing the Indiamen one by one until Penang was reached. After their recent victory the British might well be complacent, not realizing that the
French ships were gaining in efficiency. In the past there had been bad relations between officers of the old regime and men of the revolution. There was growing up, however, a new generation of seamen, men who had never known the old regime and who saw Napoleon as a more or less true successor to Louis XV. The
Tourville
was in very good order and the
Charente
was in some ways better. They were able to give a good account of themselves. The
Romaine
was only mediocre, although a very fine ship. One way and another, Garnier could see himself as a minor hero in the history books, one of the men who restored French morale after the recent setback. He was a small and excitable man, energetic and zealous, with a mop of curly, dark hair. He ordered his men to clear for action and then made a tour of the gun-decks, accompanied by fife and drum. He told the gun-crews that they had a chance now to strike a blow for the honour of France.

Garnier was outwardly eager to report a success but inwardly anxious to avoid defeat. The last thing he wanted was a confused battle in which he would find himself surrounded by Indiamen. They might not individually amount to much but there were fifteen of them. His hope had been that they would scatter during the night but this was not their plan. They were still in line of battle under reduced sail, daring him to do his worst. It was plainly a situation in which fire should be opened at long range, using his heavy guns to best advantage. If the British man-of-war were counterfeit this would be apparent from her reply. Meanwhile, the
Charente
would make short work of the wretched Indianian so far astern of the rest. Garnier had Captain Peynier under him as captain of the
Tourville,
a nervous man who bit his nails and had a bad influence on his superior. The point to establish, he said, was whether their immediate opponent
was firing guns from her lower deck. If she were, the ship would be what she seemed to be, a third-rate of the smallest class. If she were not, their opponent could be classed as a merchantman, perhaps with a reinforced crew but no more formidable than a frigate. He appointed a junior officer to observe the enemy's fire through a powerful telescope. “Vignot,” he said, “you will report at once when you have evidence either way.” When the
Tourville
opened fire, however, at extreme range, there was nothing to report because the British guns were still silent. Another broadside roared out, making the deck shudder beneath his feet, but Vignot could see nothing but the splashes made by the French shot, mostly falling short. There was a pause of five minutes while the two ships converged and the range lessened. Then Peynier decided to try again, his next broadside doing some little damage but still without eliciting a reply. Peynier knew very well what his opponent's plan would be. The first broadside was always the most carefully aimed and the most effective and the British were seldom willing to waste it at long range. But there was surely no merchantman in the world so disciplined as to hold its fire for ten minutes? Their opponent was not merely a man-of-war but one commanded by a resolute disciplinarian; this was, surely, obvious. There was no response from the British for another five minutes. At last, watching intently, Vignot could see the flashes from the British gun-muzzles—flashes visible on
both
decks, followed by billowing smoke and followed again by the thunder of the cannon. He reported at once to Captain Peynier. “There are flashes visible on the enemy's lower deck.” Peynier repeated this information to the Commodore. “That settles my first problem,” he replied. “I shall not close the range any further. Continue the action.” This order was obeyed but the nervous Peynier actually kept further away
with the result that his next broadside fell short again. There was no important damage on either side, at least none visible, but the
Tourville
was hit three or four times, two seamen being wounded. No guns were fired from the Indiamen which were still placidly heading southward in close formation.

If the
Tourville
was handled with excessive caution, the
Charente
went into action with every sign of confidence. Captain Audenet half expected the Indiamen to tack in succession or even tack together, coming to the rescue of the lame duck. But she was apparently left to her fate and the French frigate headed so as to cross her bows. It was the classic situation of the snake and the rabbit. It is true that the Indiaman altered course in time to avoid the enfilade but this might well have been inadvertent, the result of mere panic. Coming down on his prey, Audenet was almost shocked to see all the evidence of ill-discipline and ignorance. The Indiaman opened fire at long range but her guns were fired singly and at long intervals. Through his telescope the French captain could see a group of men hurrying from one gun to another. Half the cannon were not even manned and the shots fired all went high and wide. As for the sails and rigging, there was a bird's nest appearance, the foresail partly furled and a stay-sail apparently collapsed across the after-hatch. Some ladies were seen on the quarter-deck and were, with difficulty, made to go below—one reappearing later in apparent hysterics. Some civilian passengers surrounded the captain, urging him, no doubt, to surrender. A distracted-looking officer was apparently trying to quell a mutiny with drawn sword and one mutineer seemed to be trying to strike the ensign. Other seamen on the forecastle seemed to be drunk. Captain Audenet decided that the prize was already his and that he wanted to have her undamaged. He ceased fire, therefore, and tacked so as to take up a position
across his victim's bows. This time he succeeded and was rather amused to see the Indiaman's foresail come partly down with a run and flap uselessly in a tangle with the fore-staysail. He gave orders for lowering the boats and boarding the prize and then, through his speaking-trumpet, called on the Indiaman's crew to surrender. A figure now appeared on the Indiaman's forecastle and shouted back through his own speaking-trumpet: “What do you say?” Audenet repeated his demand, wondering what scene of confusion there must be behind the flapping foresail. His victims did not even know how to surrender! He hailed them once more: “Haul down your colours—or else I'll sink you! Haul down your miserable flag!”

On board the
Laura,
Delancey now gave the order for his men to man the starboard battery. Behind the foresail which momentarily hid the scene from her opponent the frigate sprang to life, every man running to his action station. The tangle aloft began to sort itself out and the ship began a slow swing to port, gradually presenting her broadside to
the
Charente.
Too late, the French frigate's first lieutenant saw what was going to happen. “Back to your posts!” he yelled. “Prepare to open fire!” shouted the captain. “Look out!” bawled a dozen other voices but the general reaction was far too slow. Delancey could now be seen on the
Laura
's quarterdeck and his drawn sword, sweeping round, pointed at a quarter-deck carronade. It fired and then, after a count of five seconds, the entire broadside fired all but simultaneously. There was a crashing of woodwork, a whistle of grapeshot, a screaming of the wounded, and a babble of orders. “Fire!” shouted the first lieutenant. “Make all sail!” bawled the captain. The Frenchmen were still trying to organize themselves when the
Laura
's second broadside followed the first and with murderous effect. Her decks littered with dead and wounded, the
Charente
managed to break off the duel and pull clear of her antagonist. Audenet then made all sail to rejoin his Commodore, making the signal that he had sustained a loss of thirty-four dead and seventy-one wounded. Seeing this signal, Garnier ordered the
Charente
to resume her station in the line. He had now to decide what to do next. The
Charente
had walked into a trap and it was a mistake he could not afford to repeat. He was puzzled over his own opponent, observing that his own ship had so far sustained relatively little damage. Was she really a man-of-war? But then there was that other ship with a Commodore's pennant. Could she be the real escort? There had been a trap—the mishandled ship lagging astern—but was that the only trap? If the
Tourville
were handled as the
Charente
had been, he would have to end his cruise and return to the Ile de France. He decided to break off the engagement and allow the convoy to go on its way. By nightfall he was out of sight to the southward and the China Fleet was heading for the Straits of Malacca.

On the following day, in calm seas, Woodfall gave a dinner for Delancey and the other commanders. Healths were drunk in an atmosphere of mutual congratulation. John Tarleton was something of a hero and made a suitably modest speech. A ceremony then followed in which Delancey was made an Honorary East India Commander. Longhurst, commanding the
David Scott,
the ship ahead of the
Laura,
who had enjoyed the nearest view of Delancey's skirmish, was lyrical in his description of it.

“At one moment there was chaos with a ship in utter confusion, badly commanded, ill-trained, ill-disciplined, tottering somewhere between a mutiny and surrender. Then came the transformation scene! In a minute there was a frigate in action, every man at his post, every gun manned and armed. Then—crash—came that first broadside! I never saw anything like it!
The French did not know what had happened to them. And before they had recovered their wits the next broadside hit them. That ship was completely silenced and I wonder now that you did not go on and capture her. A success like that, frigate against frigate, would have earned you your knighthood.”