Touch and Go (31 page)

“For my part,” said Sam, “I shall try to send you a message if we have news here of the war being ended. Where will you be?”

“This side of Alderney.”

“I'll sail that way when we have the news. When you catch sight of the
Dove
with ensign reversed, union down, you will know that the signal means ‘Cease Fire.'”

“Thank you, Sam, for all your help, and I'll hope to God I don't glimpse that signal through the smoke when my wretched opponent is about to sink!”

“But look, Richard,” said Captain Savage, “how are you going to capture this ship without great damage to either side? I think you told me that she actually mounts more guns than you do?”

“She is said to have twenty-four guns. The ideal plan would be to capture her by boarding.”

“What, in daylight?”

“It has to be in daylight. All my information leads me to expect her off Cape La Hague at daylight in two or three days' time. The voyage is timed to ensure this, so that she passes Jersey in the dark, for safety, and then has daylight for entry into Cherbourg.”

“So you mean to disguise the
Merlin
as a French merchantman?”

There isn't time for that, sir. The most I could do would be to pass, at a distance, as a British privateer.”

“Would that serve any purpose?”

“It would encourage the French captain to fight rather than to try to escape.”

“But I know, Richard, what gives you the idea,” said Sam with a laugh. “You captured the
Bonne Citoyenne
by disguising your privateer as a man-of-war. Now you want to capture her sister ship by disguising your man-of-war as a privateer. This is your artistic approach to life—your idea of—what do I mean?”

“Symmetry,” said Captain Savage. “We know your weakness, Delancey! You want to make your battle a work of art.”

“There's something in that,” Delancey admitted, “but I also need to make some money. I may be on half-pay for the next ten years and this may be my last chance to win an estate.”

“That reminds me,” said Savage, “I went to see Anneville Manor the other day. You told me in Malta—do you remember?—that you were trying to rebuild that ruin, which once belonged to your mother's family. So I decided to visit the place on your behalf. I found your builder on the site.”

“Old Mr Renouf.”

“Yes, old Mr Renouf. He told me a long story about how difficult it is to find good workmen these days. There is so much building on the island, much of it by newcomers to the place, that folk are wondering where the real Guernseymen are to live. He asked me whether I had seen Hauteville lately. Anyway I had a look at the building, which is not yet habitable. Mr Renouf wants to demolish the old chapel but I told him you would never agree to that. ‘It's not everybody's idea of a home,' he said finally, ‘but the coach-house is good and so is the water supply.' Completion of the work will take years, Delancey, and will cost hundreds of pounds. Your best plan would be to sell the old ruin and buy a modern cottage in St Sampson's. Come and stay with me while you are furnishing it.”

“How kind of you, sir, to make the offer! You will understand, however, that I have to decline. My plan is to live at Anneville in any part of the building that has a roof and so be able to stand over Renouf, see what he does and urge him on!”

“What it is to be a romantic!” cried Savage. “I never before met anyone who went into action with half his mind on a gothic ruin. When you sight the enemy you will say ‘This should help pay the builder!' When you fire your first broadside you will think ‘This should earn me another cart-load of granite!' When you give the order to board the enemy ship you will somehow have to restrain yourself from shouting ‘On to victory, and on to pay for the carpentry!' When the Frenchman lowers his colours you will exclaim ‘That takes care of the drainage!' As for your men, I can imagine one of them whispering, as he dies, ‘Never mind—I have helped at least with the plasterwork and paint!'”

Delancey laughed with the others over this but with a horrid doubt in his mind as to whether there might not be some truth in the caricature. He also had to realise he would have only a share of the prize-money and would face ruin if he unwittingly captured a French ship after the peace treaty had been signed.

The
Merlin
sailed after dark that evening and without attracting attention, watched only by Captain Savage and by Sam Carter. There was a freshening breeze from the westward and the sloop gathered way as she went up the Russel. Lights ashore in Guernsey slid by and disappeared astern. Alone in his cabin, Delancey sketched out his plan of attack, listing the duties and allocating the role which each of his officers would play. He considered again the idea of disguise and thought of what was and was not practicable. Something might be done but he would be wrong, he concluded, to make too much of it.

It would be easy to fly the privateer's jack, the union with a broad red border, but what was the point? Of more use would be a foreign ensign, just enough to introduce an element of doubt. His object with the
Bonne Citoyenne
had been to frighten her into a small harbour. His object this time was the exact reverse, to give the French ship confidence and lure her into a very unequal battle. He made a diagram to illustrate his plan of attack and found himself absent-mindedly adding a little picture of the action as he saw it develop. Yes, he thought, old Savage had been right. He was a romantic, perhaps even a frustrated artist.

He tore up his pen-and-ink drawing and threw the fragments through the stern window. The time had come to be severely practical, a man of action and not a dreamer. He knew what had to be done. Could he now ensure that all would go as he had planned it? Going on deck he saw the ship clear of the Casquets and then hove to at a point west of Alderney. As she idled there, at slack water, Delancey sent for his officers, master's mate and midshipmen, down to and including young David Stock. To them he issued his orders for the expected action:

“I intend to intercept and capture a laden French merchantman bound from Rochefort to Cherbourg and likely to appear in these waters during the next few days. She is called the
Bonaparte
and mounts about twenty-four guns. She is well manned and will not easily surrender. She might, however, take refuge in the nearest French harbour if threatened by a more powerful opponent. I shall try to confuse her at first, giving this ship the appearance of a privateer.

“My aim is then to capture her with the least damage to either side. This means a capture by boarding. For this purpose we have, as it happens, some extra soldiers and seamen; not all fit for a desperate conflict but all useful in making a show of strength. Before the engagement I propose to lower our boats and tow them alongside on the side away from the enemy; that is, if the weather should be suitable. I shall then engage with the other, probably the starboard, broadside.

“Mr Langford, I shall place you in command of the three carronades on that side of the quarterdeck and your task will be to concentrate their fire on the enemy's wheel. Aim each weapon yourself and shoot only at the one target. The main battery will be under the command of Mr Mather and will fire into the enemy's gunports without injuring his masts and rigging. Mr Topley will be stationed on the forecastle, ready to make a threat of boarding. You will fire grapeshot from the starboard carronade as if to clear the way, and I shall place under your command the supernumeraries. You will not actually board the enemy ship, but will brandish cutlasses and cheer.

“With the enemy thus distracted, Mr Stirling and Mr Northmore will lead half the seamen and all the marines into our boats and so board the enemy on the further or disengaged side, passing just under our opponents' stern. It will be the special task of Mr Northmore to lower the enemy's colours, entering by a stern window should one be unguarded. Mr Stock will act as my aide-de-camp. We shall rehearse the operation tomorrow and again on the following day, should the
Bonaparte's
tardy arrival give us the opportunity.

“My general purpose is to give the enemy confidence at first, suggesting to them that their opponent is merely a privateer, and then overwhelm them by a direct threat and an indirect assault. I cannot do much to disguise this ship but I might hoist the sort of ensign which a privateer might choose; Prussian, perhaps, or that of the Papal States. It is now your chance, gentlemen, to ask questions. It is important from the outset that every man should know exactly what he is to do.”

A number of questions were asked and several suggestions were accepted, but the point was soon reached when Delancey could say: “Very well then, gentlemen. We all know the plan. It remains to detail off the various parties and then explain the plan to each.”

When the others had left the cabin Mather remained behind, very much at attention.

“With respect, sir, I have a protest to make.”

“Well?”

“Mr Stirling is to lead the main attack while I merely hold the enemy's attention. What credit there is will go to the junior officer.”

“Yes.”

“The war is nearly over, sir, and this may be my last chance of promotion.”

“Is that all the protest you have to make?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well then. I want you to sit down, at ease, and forget for a moment that you are under my orders. We are brother officers and—I hope—old friends and shipmates. You see me writing a gazette letter in which Stirling is mentioned as leading the boarding party. But no such letter will be published. We are merely capturing a merchantman. She happens to mount as many guns as we do but that will make no difference. She is not a man-of-war. There will be no credit, therefore, and no promotion for anybody.”

“I'm sorry, sir. I was misled, I think, by the care with which you planned the attack.”

“If it were merely a question of capturing the
Bonaparte,
no plan would be needed. My problem has been to make this capture without any notable damage to either ship.”

“I quite understand that, sir. Any damage must reduce the value of the prize.”

“But you
don't
understand, Mather. What if the war has ended and we none the wiser? I may have to hand this ship back to the French. I don't want to return them a leaking, dismasted and bloodstained wreck.”

“No—I suppose not.”

“And I don't want to bring
this
ship into Plymouth with her topmasts gone, her pumps working and twenty men wounded. I should be asked ‘What have you been doing?' My answer would be ‘I've been fighting a French merchantman.' Do you think I should be promoted for
that?
Or you either?”

“No—I see what you mean.”

“But do you? The war is ending—may have ended. Do you think their Lordships of the Admiralty want to promote
anyone
at this moment? Or even confirm an acting rank? Not they. The peace, for all they know, may last for twenty years, at the end of which time we may be thought too old for active employment. By promoting us now they would increase our half-pay for a lifetime and gain nothing by it.”

“I see . . .”

“There's another thing you don't see. Suppose the
Bonaparte
turned out to be a national frigate and suppose we captured her, we should both be promoted because that is the rule. Suppose there is war within five years you would lack interest to gain a command. But as lieutenant you would be employed and might have a chance to distinguish yourself.”

“Yes, that is true. Forgive me, however, if I am still wondering why Stirling is to lead the boarding party.”

“I'll tell you why. I have tried to give each man the role in which I think he will do best. For keeping you on the
Merlin's
gun deck I have three reasons. First, you are the best first lieutenant I am ever likely to have and I don't want to throw your life away. Second, I want you at hand to take my place if I should be killed or wounded. Third, for the actual boarding, I think that Stirling is the better man, with fewer brains but more natural ferocity. He is not, I think, your equal in directing, as opposed to leading, an attack.

“That does not mean, however, that you are fitted now to command a man-of-war. You will some day deserve promotion but you are not as yet fit for it. The proof of that lies in all that I have just told you. Had you been fit for promotion you would have known all that already.

“The one thing you must realise is that we have all worked together, trained together, fought together and come to know something of each other's qualities. It is possible that we are all going to be tested again in action. You will see then whether I have chosen the right man for each task. If I am proved wrong, take careful note of my failure. Remember that, some other time, it may be for you to make the choice.”

Then the exercises began in earnest. Delancey had difficulty at first with the invalid soldiers and convalescent seamen. They found it hard to grasp the idea of a feint attack. To board a French ship seemed reasonable to them but to go through the motions without actually doing it was something outside their experience.

The soldiers and seamen under Topley's command had been provided with muskets and bayonets—weapons the real boarding party were better without—and Delancey had finally to compromise by allowing them to fire volleys as if to clear the enemy decks before launching their attack. They were to begin the action hidden in the forecastle and they practised a spectacular movement in which the soldiers swept up to the bulwarks and the seamen came after them in a second wave, led by Topley, and carrying a makeshift gangplank. The signal would be made by Delancey and the feint attack would be further dramatised by a bugle call and by beat of drum. Stirling's men were armed only with cutlass and pistol, leaving them free to scramble on board the Frenchman through the gunports.