Fire from the besiegers’ batteries had been dwindling for several days and on the evening of 23 June it ceased altogether and there was a seemingly unnatural and ominous quiet. On the following day Richard was told to report to Captain Curtis. With the captain he found two army officers, the senior of them a member of the governor’s staff.
“Good morning, Mr Delancey, I want you to meet Major Palmer and Captain Millington. You will have noticed that the enemy cannon are silent and you may have wondered why. We now learn that the Duc de Crillon has taken command of the allied army, superseding Don Alvarez, and that he plans to attack this fortress from the sea. A number of ships are to be turned into floating batteries, roofed over and strengthened until they are impervious to shot and shell. We are told that work on these ships has begun at Algeçiras and we can see something of this activity from Windmill Hill. We can’t approach them in daylight, however, because of the enemy men-of-war. The governor has asked us, therefore, to send a gunboat over at night with the object of reporting on the enemy’s progress. I have agreed to do this and have decided to entrust the mission to you.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Have you any observation to make on what men or equipment you will need?”
“I would suggest taking a smaller boat in tow for use when at close quarters with the enemy. I should like to have the assistance of two good midshipmen and I think that our cannon is needless for this purpose and should be left behind.”
“Might not the cannon help cover your retreat?” asked the major.
“We shall be more seaworthy, sir, without that weight in the bows. We are also to be on patrol, in military terms, and what you want from us is intelligence rather than noise.”
“Mr Delancey is right,” said Captain Curtis. “A military patrol sent on a similar mission would have muskets unloaded.”
“I take your point, sir,” agreed the major, and the conference ended with a plan accepted in broad outline. More detailed discussion followed the soldiers’ departure, and Richard proposed to approach Algeçiras from the westward, passing inside the island. That passage was known to be closed by a boom but Richard argued that a small boat could be hauled over it. The two midshipmen chosen were Jolliffe and Holbrook; the first being steady and reliable, the other an eager youngster with a yearning for action. Concluding his talk to them, Richard ended with these words: “Our success would be complete if we were able to take a prisoner, and a shipwright for choice, one of the men actually working on these ships. I doubt that will be possible but we’ll seize any chance that offers.”
The night chosen was 24 June, provided only that the weather was calm.
Captain Curtis stood at the entry port as Richard’s gunboat, the Revenge, was brought alongside the Brilliant. Richard reported to him, saying that all was ready. It was midnight when they pushed off, the captain saying “Good luck!” They had about five miles to row over the calm and dark sea.
The muffled oars were plied steadily and the only lights seen were the flares fired occasionally from the Grand Battery and a steady glow from the shipping at Algeçiras on their starboard bow. After pulling for an hour and a half the gunboat approached the land at a point well to the east of Fort San Garcia. Then Richard altered course and steered for the passage behind Algeçiras Island. Two things at once became apparent. First, the workmen on the floating batteries were working at night under a festoon of lanterns. Second, the approaches to the anchorage were well patrolled by guard-boats. Despite the distant noise of hammering, Richard could hear the rhythmic pulse of oars passing between the island and the coast. On his orders the gunboat waited, oars motionless, but the sound ahead of them was continuous and came from at least two boats and more probably three. There was no reason to suppose that the watch was less vigilant on the other side of the island. His original idea had now to be discarded. There was only one alternative and that was to land at the nearest point and walk along the shore until a point was reached from which the floating batteries might be visible.
In a low voice he passed the order to bring the towed boat alongside. Then he gave the following instruction to Midshipman Jolliffe: “I am going ashore here with Mr Holbrook and two seamen, Robins and Gill. Drop the grapnel and wait here in complete silence for two hours. If we have not returned by that time row back to Gibraltar. Is that understood?”
A minute later the two-oared boat was heading for the land, rowed by two picked men. Robins was a big man, immensely strong; Gill, a man who knew a few words of Spanish. All four in the party could swim. Richard brought the boat very slowly and carefully into what proved to be a rocky shore. In any sort of rough sea the boat would have been smashed to pieces but the night was calm and they reached the shore, leaving the boat tied to a rock and marking the place with a handkerchief tied to a stick.
The approach to Algeçiras had to be very cautious indeed. Gill went first, Richard and Robins a few yards behind, and young Holbrook brought up the rear. There was some sort of a path running parallel with the shore and ahead of them were the lights and noises of the harbour. As their advance brought them nearer to the town the danger obviously increased of walking into a sentry post for there could be no doubt that every path would be watched. But neither could much be seen of the ships from any point outside the town frontage. They were moored close together with their sterns towards the beach and they were surrounded by clusters of shore boats. So much was visible but the facts he could so far report were valueless. Bunched as they were, he could not even count them. So the dangerous walk continued, ending abruptly with the sound of a challenge from somewhere ahead of them. There was no shot fired but voices could be heard and footsteps. Richard and Robins left the path silently, followed by Holbrook, and then crawled forward painfully on the seaward side of the track. They could see nothing but it was evident from what they could hear that Gill had been taken prisoner. He would pretend to be a deserter—so much had been arranged beforehand—and would swear that he had come alone. This story was plausible because men usually deserted singly—Richard knew that much without understanding why—and because desertion was fairly common on either side. Without hesitation Richard led the other two towards the shore and presently found himself on a shingle beach near the ruin of what had once been a whitewashed cottage standing a hundred yards back in the direction from which he and his party had come. “We’ll leave our weapons here.” He whispered, “From this point we shall have to swim.” Their pistols, cutlasses, jackets and shoes were hidden and they took to the water without making a sound.
One fact upon which Richard had relied was the relative warmth of the water. Towards the end of a hot summer it was warmer even than the night air. The swim was not exhausting, therefore, but even so Richard planned to go no further than was strictly necessary. He merely went far enough to pass the enemy’s picket line, coming ashore when he judged that the sentinels were behind him. In less than half an hour they were opposite the nearest of the floating batteries and able to see the others. There were ten of them, stripped down to the lower masts, and each was a scene of furious activity. By lantern light a swarm of men were hammering, shaping, hoisting and jabbering. The noise was continuous, merging into a sort of murmur but broken sometimes by the higher-pitched screech of the saw. There were laden barges alongside each of the big ships and oared boats passing between them and the shore. Part of the total effort was going into the construction of a steep-pitched roof over each upper deck, intended no doubt to be bomb-proof and fireproof. As much effort again was concentrated on a sort of scaffolding which overhung the nearest ship’s port side. If only the one side were being strengthened it was evident that the ships had only the one battery and would be defenceless on the starboard side. This was the first crumb of information he had gained. It might be important—would be vital indeed to the planning of a gun-boat attack—but was quite possibly known already. To discover anything more would mean making a closer inspection.
“Looks like Noa
h’s Ark, sir,” said Robins.
“Fit to sink but not to sail,” said Richard’s comment.
“Our danger,” said Holbrook, “will arise when our gunners die of laughing.”
Richard guessed that time was running short and issued his orders for the next phase.
“We must have a closer look at the nearest of these monsters. We shall swim out and hope to find some floating timbers which will help our return.” He led the way down the shingle and into the sea which seemed colder now than it had been before.
As they swam towards the floating battery they ran the greater risk of being seen by the light of the lanterns. As against that, all the men in sight were intent upon their work. There were no sentinels, presumably because of the boom which protected the whole area of preparation. Activity was feverish and Richard guessed that the shipwrights must have been promised some reward for early completion of the task. There were about five hundred yards to go but Richard led the others around the ship’s port side, swimming wide of the flat boats which clustered there amidships. Some workmen were swaying up timber from these craft, using a block and tackle. Others were at work on the ship’s side adding layer after layer of timber. The total thickness would be ten feet or more. As for the sloping roof, it clearly included layers of old rope and the finished part was being covered with rawhide, identifiable by shape and smell. Forward of the flat boats was a single craft alongside, a xebec with a gig astern and no one visible on deck. Richard swam to her and scrambled on board by means of a trailing rope.
Motioning the other two to hide among the barrels which cumbered her deck, Richard climbed the rigging until he was level with the monster’s gun ports, eleven in number. In this part of the ship they were completed, each looking like the entrance to a tunnel. There was just light enough to see that the sides of the tunnels were lined with metal, apparently tin. Back on deck, Richard ascertained that the armouring of the ship was carried down almost to the waterline—would come below the waterline when she was armed and manned. Signalling the others to follow him, he hauled on the gig’s painter and slid down into her by the same trailing rope by which he had boarded the xebec. The other two followed suit and Richard cut the painter with his sheathknife. Robins took the oars and Richard pointed the way towards the ship’s bows. They passed slowly under her stern and down the other side of the ship, allowing Richard finally to see her name on the stern—Principe Carlos. Then it was time to go and Robins pulled for the shore. The boat was undoubtedly seen by several of the workmen but attracted no attention, there being other boats around. By the time it diverged from the others, heading back for the ruined cottage, it was once more in darkness. It was quietly beached and the three of them soon recovered their jackets, shoes and weapons. They walked back along the path, found their own boat, pushed off and duly reached the waiting gunboat.
“We had nearly given you up for lost,” said Jolliffe.
“We may all be lost yet,” Richard replied, looking at a faint lightening of the sky to the eastwards. “Row now for dear life!”
They were back at the New Mole before daylight.
Richard reported to Captain Curtis soon after his return. After hearing his story the captain said, “Well done. A pity about Gill. Come back at eleven.”
When Richard did so he found that Curtis had been joined once more by Major Palmer and Captain Millington.
“Now, Mr Delancey,” said the captain, “you need not describe again your actual exploit. Tell us merely what intelligence you have gained.”
“I have examined only one of the ten floating batteries, the Principe Carlos, with eleven guns on one deck, calibre unknown. She is one of the smaller ships but all appear to have the same sort of bomb-proof protection. The guns forming the ship’s port battery are to fire through solid timbers and are sheltered by a sloping roof of timber and junk or possibly cork, covered with rawhide. The gun embrasures are lined with some metal, probably tin. There are no guns mounted on the starboard side, which has no special protection apart from the roof. Work on the Principe Carlos is perhaps half completed but other ships are in an earlier stage of preparation. I am no shipwright, sir, but would guess that the floating batteries will not be ready for another eight weeks.”
“Thank you, Mr Delancey. Where would you judge these ships to be most vulnerable?”
“From the bows, sir. The forecastle seems to be unfortified.”
“Thank you. Gentlemen?” It was clearly Major Palmer’s turn and he took it.
“You have given us some facts, clearly stated. I want now to ask your opinion. How effective would you judge these ships to be?”
“They appear to be very formidable, sir, unless engaged on their starboard side. But it seems to me that their fire will be inaccurate.”
“Why?”
“Well, sir, when a gun is fired from an ordinary ship the muzzle projects from the port at the instant of firing and the smoke is blown clear by the wind. In these vessels the muzzle will be perhaps eight feet inboard and the smoke will remain in the embrasure. The gunlayers will see nothing after the first round. That is merely an opinion, sir.”
“And what gave you that idea?”
“The sheet metal lining the embrasures, sir. The Spaniards realised that the muzzle flash would burn the timber if there were no such protection. That took care of the flash but what could they do about the smoke?”
“What indeed? An interesting point … Captain Millington?”
“You mention, Mr Delancey, that the bows seem vulnerable. What about the stern?”
“That was fortified at the level of the gundeck. The rudder is unprotected but is largely under water.”
“Any other questions, gentlemen?” asked Captain Curtis. “If not, I’ll tell Mr Delancey to get some sleep.” There were no other questions and Delancey left the cabin.
“I think you’ll agree, gentlemen,” said Captain Curtis, “that Mr Delancey has provided us with some valuable information.”
“His Excellency will be very satisfied,” agreed the major. “Mr Delancey seems to be a useful man.”
“I am glad that you think so,” said Curtis. “A less resolute officer would have turned back at an early stage in that mission—and with some excuse—but Delancey persisted. I am justified, I think, in making him an acting lieutenant. If His Excellency cares to mention this young officer in his next despatch I should feel confident that the appointment would be confirmed.”
“I feel sure, sir, that His Excellency will be glad to do that. We have learnt little more than we knew or suspected about the floating batteries but we now have confirmation of the intelligence we have had from other sources. Mr Delancey’s point about the smoke is well taken, however, and will be passed to our artillerymen by way of encouragement.”
“I am glad to hear that,” said Curtis, rising to mark the end of the conference. “For us Mr Delancey brought more specific information. If our gunboats have the chance to attack they will know—or I will know, rather—how to set about it. And yet, as so often after a mission, I am forced to admit that our only certain advantage is in having tested a young man with a view to his future promotion. In this instance, gentlemen, we must agree, I think, that he has passed the test. I should not hesitate to describe him as a young officer of promise.”
Chapter 11
LIEUTENANT
RICHARD was now acting lieutenant, entitled to wear the uniform (but without drawing the pay) of a commissioned officer. A tailor ashore made him a suitable coat and he would have bought a sword had there been one on sale. In the meanwhile he had plenty to do in exercising the gunboats placed under his command. None too sure of himself, he was glad to discover that the seamen viewed him with some respect. He was the youngster who had visited the Spanish ships after dark and was said to have boarded one of them—not a man to trifle with. To clinch his reputation he made a point of visiting the outposts when off duty, listening to the gossip and looking through a spyglass at the Franco-Spani
sh lines. It was August now and the weather was a great deal hotter than the cannonade on either side. The firing had all but died away, and the soldiers were all confident that the big assault would come in September. While there was little expenditure of ammunition, Algeçiras was the scene of feverish activity. Returning one day from one of these visits to the forward positions, Richard passed the hospital and was surprised to see a naval captain on the point of leaving it. It was not Curtis nor Gibson but a man older than either of them who walked very slowly with the aid of a stick. He was pale and thin, shading his eyes from the sun as if he had been indoors for a long time and was still far from recovered. He returned Richard’s salute, smiling faintly, and Richard took the opportunity of asking whether he could be of any assistance. “Can I act as guide, sir, or give you my arm for as far as you mean to go?”
“I need no guide, young man, having known Gibraltar since before you were born, but you can help me as far as that seat over yonder in the shade. This is only my second venture out of hospital and I shan’t attempt to go further than that.”
It emerged in conversation that the invalid was Captain Bradshaw who had been ill for nearly a year. The physicians had at first despaired of saving his life but he was now convalescent.
“I’m not as young as I was and that’s a fact. Still, I seem to be on the mend. How does the siege progress?”
Richard gave him what news he had, sat with the old officer for half an hour and then helped him back to hospital, making conversation as they went.
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