The next morning a boat pulled out from the shore and came directly to them. A tall slim man came up the side, boarded and asked to speak to the Captain. He came down into the cabin and looked around. He saw Marty and dismissing him as a cabin boy said to the sailor who brought him down, “
Well where is he?”
“Where is who?” said Marty
“The Captain” the man said
“Here” said Marty
“Where?” said the man
“Here” said Marty pointing at his chest
“You?” He said incredulously
“Yup me” said Marty
“But you be but a boy” said the man
“Marty looked at him steadily for a moment, took a deep breath to control his temper and said
“Shall we start again? My name is Martin Stockley, Captain and part owner of the Alouette. And who do I have the pleasure of addressing?” he held his hand out.
“Stuart English, harbour master” he replied still with a disbelieving expression on his face but shook the offered hand. “You came in to harbour in somewhat of a hurry last night and we noticed you had a French flag flying for a while there and this is a French built ship so you can understand that we are somewhat curious.”
Marty went to the desk and took a document from the drawer. He took it to English and offered it to him.
“That should explain things” he said
English opened the paper and read it.
“A Letter of Marque” he said “so you are privateers”.
“That’s us” Marty said “we had a notion to poach in the Frenchies back yard”
“Well, you’re in the right area then. There be a fair bit of traffic between Brest and pretty much everywhere that’s avoiding the blockade.”
“Good! Glad to hear that. Have you seen any come through here?” Marty asked
“No French, only some neutrals, a couple of Americans and a Dane in the last week. They don’t do any business here as they can make much more from the French” he replied with more than a hint of dissatisfaction.
“What goods do they have that you want?” Marty asked on a hunch.
“Tobacco, cotton, hemp, sugar” he said “we can use them all and export what we don’t”.
“So if we come across any then . . . . .” said Marty and raised an eyebrow
“We wouldn’t ask where they came from” was the reply with a grin.
“is it too early for a Brandy?” asked Marty “to ‘seal the deal’. I have an very nice Armagnac from Normandy”
“Not at all” Stuart replied.
An hour later Stuart English left the Alouette swaying slightly and humming happily to himself. Marty waved to him from the side and then very deliberately turned and walked, almost, directly back to his cabin.
Several coffees later he came back on deck with more than a slight headache. In fact the light hurt his eyes. The weather had cleared a lot and he figured it was time to get back to sea. The tide was slack and the wind was from the southwest which was perfect for leaving harbour but not for heading down to Brest as he had planned.
They left directly and headed north northwest towards Plymouth to get enough westing to tack south to Roscoff. They practiced with the guns and in Marty’s opinion were slightly faster than the equivalent French crew but way slower than a full Navy crew. But that was OK he didn’t want to get in a shooting match with anybody unless he could get close enough to use his smashers.
They reached Plymouth the following morning and turned south as close to the wind as they could. It was glorious sailing weather and with Du Demaine on board the food was way better than standard Navy fare. They were in sight of the French coast when they turned northwest again
They were about mid channel when the cry went up from the masthead “Sail Ho! Fine on the larboard beam. Looks like a Schooner” Marty grabbed a glass and ran up the mainmast ratlines. He went around the futtock shrouds and settled on the spar next to the lookout. He scanned the horizon first and then looked for the speck of sail. There it was! Travelling southeast and looked to be heading towards Brest.
“Wear ship!” called Marty down to the deck “course 2 points west of south”. He then descended down to the deck via a stay. He called his Mates to him “remember, if she be a yankee trader we will stop him as if we are a French privateer. Everyone who doesn’t speak French is to stay silent and I only want to see French made guns on show. Get the Carronades loaded but keep them covered. Tom, get the Basque boys, Wilson and Dudemain together along with any others who can speak French. You will be the boarding party.“
He then went to the sergeant of marines, made sure they had swapped their Brown Bess’s for French muskets and reminded them not to form up in ranks
The two ships were on a converging course and now the Schooner was hull up they could see she was Yankee built.
Marty had the ship cleared for action and his starboard battery manned and loaded but not run out. The men stayed down out of sight. America was officially neutral but everyone knew that the Republican faction was sympathetic to the revolution and were supplying the French with everything they could in spite of the ‘official’ prohibition of their Federalist government.
As they closed they could see the crew of the other ship watching them and one even waved. When they were two cables apart Marty ordered the guns run out and a shot to be put under her bow. That caused a flurry of activity on the schooner which dropped her main sail and hove to. They came up within half a cable and kept her under their guns.
Marty let Antton lead the boarding party and stayed on board to keep a French speaker available. A few minutes after the boys had boarded they saw the schooner’s crew herded to the foredeck. They could see one man in particular waving his arms and complaining loudly, he could just about hear him from the Alouette. He was gesticulating to the Alouette and looked to be asking to be taken across. He was out of luck. Marty had given clear instructions that the boarding party should pretend that they didn’t speak English.
Antton came to the rail and shouted across to Marty in French “They are American and are carrying coffee, sugar, molasses, and Tobacco. The boat is old but well maintained.”
Marty called back “They can keep the boat. I will pull alongside and we will transfer the cargo”. He then shouted orders in French, he had drilled the crew in a few key phrases, and they manoeuvred so the two ships could be tied alongside each other.
The American crew had been shut in their own cable locker out of the way and then their ship was systematically looted of the cargo and anything else of value. Marty felt a little odd about taking the personal valuables of the crew, but it is what a privateer would do. When they were finished they loosened some vital parts of the rigging to buy them time to get away and quietly unlocked the door to the cable tier. They left the ship quietly and sailed off with the wind on their rear quarter heading North East. Marty looked back, he could see the crew of the schooner had come up on deck. The skipper climbed the ratlines shaking his fist at their disappearing stern shouting profanities and threats in equal measure.
They headed home rather than to Guernsey. Marty wanted to report back to Armand. He also had in mind that the Deal boys weren’t used to being away for long cruises and he needed to break them in gently.
As they got into English waters they raised the British colours and the Alouette changed to the Swan. When they finally moored up, the Snipe was missing and Marty went to The Farm to see what was up. Their Steward came to meet him at the door and told him the Lieutenant Armand had taken the Snipe out as one of the fishing boats was late back from picking up a package in Calais. They didn’t think there was much chance of finding it but they knew its route and hoped for the best.
He grabbed a quick coffee and headed back to the dock. Unloading was going well and John Smith was tallying up the cargo as it was unloaded. He saw Bill Clarence stood talking to a couple of his men. His arm was out of the sling from the wound he pi
cked up in getting the Alouette and he looked fit.
“Hello Bill, come to check we aint cheating yer” said Marty with a laugh.
“Well it wouldn’t do to give yer too long a rein would it” he joked back. “Not a bad haul. That little lot should make us a few bob”
“Easy money” said Marty
Tom walked over “Them yanks were bloody furious” he grinned “Their Cap’ain kept asking to see ours, but we just kept on with ‘we don’t speeek Englaise’. Which pissed him off even more. He even said that he and the French were allies.”
“Makes them fair game then” said Marty. “We got copies of their papers and took their bill of lading. Seems that they are part of a consortium, whatever one of them be.”
“Means that they belong to a group of likeminded individuals” said a familiar voice from behind him
Marty nearly jumped out if his skin! “Mr Wickham please don’t do that” he gasped
Wickham laughed “you should always keep one eye over your shoulder in this game” he said.
Marty asked “Why are you here?”
“Just checking on my favourite prodigy” he replied.
Marty wasn’t sure what that meant or even if it referred to him or Armand.
“You have been busy I see” Wickham observed.
Marty reached into his coat pocket and took out a sheaf of papers. “These are for you. I was going to get them sent up to London tomorrow”
“Thank you” said Wickham. “Now I need to talk to you alone for a while”
Marty looked at Bill and said “Can I leave you to get this lot stowed away?”
Bill nodded and waved for him to go.
Chapter 10 A Little Bird
Back at The Farm they went into the ‘bureau’ as Armand called the small room where they ran things from. Marty invited Wickham to sit in one of the comfortable arm chairs.
“I have a mission for you. It is one of high importance and needs to be done as soon as possible. You must not wait for Armand to return as we don’t have time for that”
Marty was intrigued and lent forward to hear more.
“We have gained access to a list of French agents in England and it was being carried from Paris by one of our people when she was arrested in Amiens en route to Calais. Luckily she carried the list in her head or she would be dead by now. She is being held by the secret police in their headquarters in the town. We don’t know if she was arrested because they knew she was a spy or just because they suspect she comes from an aristo family.” Wickham explained.
“And you want me to go and get her out” Marty said.
“Yes” said Wickham “I would advise you take a small team with all the skills you will need for a jailbreak. Just one or two men if you can manage it.”
Marty thought about the problem for a minute or two.
“What do we know about the secret police building?”
“It is in the centre of town next to the Hotel de Ville, the Townhall. It is guarded around the clock by secret police personnel and prisoners are kept in the cellar which is a combined dungeon and torture chamber.”
“Piece of cake then” said Marty ironically.
Wickham ignored that.
“Here is a map of the town centre and I have marked the police headquarters on it. Here is a plan of the ground floor, well as much as our people could see from the entry.”
Marty took the map and plan and studied the map for a good 10 minutes.
“This building here,” he said pointing to a building to the west of the place de Hotel de Ville “is that a barracks?”
Wickham looked at the map “Yes, for a regiment of cavalry”
“So they will have stables and an armoury then” said Marty
“I should think” said Wickham.
“I think I have a plan” murmured Marty.
Twelve hours later Marty, Matai, Wilson and Roland were in a fishing boat manned by the smugglers heading to a landing at Le Crotoy on the estuary of the river Somme. It would have been easier to land at St Valerie but they thought their faces may be recognised there after the theft of the Alouette.
Roland had figured he needed a good lockpick (himself), a good knife man (Matai), someone who was good with explosives (Roland) and some muscle (Wilson) who could also speak French.
The would travel inland from Le Crotoy, which was the nearest landing to Amiens, rescue the agent and then exit back to Le Crotoy to be picked up by the Deal boys and home. What could possibly go wrong.
The landing was regulation and they were met by a ‘friend” who supplied them with identification and travel papers. Then after a quick meal they were on their own. Marty knew that all they had to do was follow the river and they would find Amiens. The only problem was the river passed through numerous villages and the town of Abbeville which meant they would have to negotiate a number of checkpoints. They needed a cover story and the best they had come up with was that they were stone masons who were travelling to Paris via Amiens. They managed to get a couple of tool bags with hammers and stone chisels to complete their disguise and they were a convenient place to hide their weapons.
It worked quite well as they passed through the numerous checkpoints without too much trouble. Three men and a boy didn’t attract too much attention and Roland played the part of gang boss to a tee. As they approached the entry to Amiens they got a more severe grilling but the well-rehearsed simple cover story stood up to examination and they got through. Once inside the town they headed to a guest house that they had been assured was run by a sympathiser to the royalist cause.
The house was on the Rue Saint-Martin aux Wades not too far from the centre of town and they found it by asking directions of a couple of surly townsfolk. The overriding impression was of a town under siege. The difference though was that instead of the siege coming from the outside here it was inflicted on the town from within. There was an all pervading feeling of fear and of everyone watching everyone else. It was very uncomfortable.
Marty went to the Place de L’Hotel de Ville and the first things he saw were the Tree of Liberty and the Guillotine. His timing couldn’t have been worse, as he arrived just as an execution was about to take place and there was a large crowd. A cart drawn by a worn out nag came into the square with a man dressed as a baker in the back. He had a wild look and was protesting his innocence in a loud voice.
Marty asked a man stood nearby what crime he had committed to warrant such a punishment. The man laughed and told him that his crime was to be too successful. He had been denounced as a traitor by one of his competitors. It seemed in France to get ahead you risked losing your head, thought Marty.
His attention was drawn back to the drama in front of them. The man was dragged up on to the platform and forced to stand against a plank which came up to his shoulders. Straps were tightened around his thighs and chest and then the plank was pivoted to the horizontal eliciting a terrified squawk from the condemned man. Ingenious, thought Marty. It was then slid forward until the man’s neck was directly under the blade. A proclamation was read stating that the man had been found guilty of treason to the state and the rope holding the blade at the top of its slide was released.
THUNK and it was all over. The crowd cheered without a huge amount of enthusiasm as the executioner held up the head by the hair, then everyone started home.
The square was surrounded on three sides by a building in a U with the open end to the south. The Secret Police were based at the end of the western arm of the U. The entrance was at the south end and a pair of what looked like doormen were stationed outside, but Marty wasn’t fooled, they were armed policemen. He walked casually past. The building had the Rue de la Malmaison running up the west side. The Rue Gresset ran past the main entrance at the south end. As far as he could see that was the only outside entrance to the police part of the building. The east side looked over the square. There were windows, but all the ones on the ground floor had bars. He decided to return to the guest hou
se.
Once there he met up with the other guys who had been looking around the surrounding area. Their reports were more encouraging. There was a barracks and it was for cavalry. They had identified the armoury which was actually just a room at the end of the stables which had just one guard. This was good as the French cavalry carried carbines so there would be ammunition in there.
He described the police building to his men and they started to work over the problem. They rapidly concluded that walking into the front door wasn’t practical. So how could they get in – and out again?
Wilson asked “You say it is all one building around the square. Maybe there is a connecting door from the police part to the town hall or at least there was one at some time”
“That’s a good point” said Marty, “Roland, go ask our host how the building was used before the revolution.”
Roland left the room and the rest continued looking at maps and discussed the merits of different escape routes. Roland came back with a smile on his face.
“Before the revolution the entire building was owned by the local Count and was ‘is town ‘ouse. After the revolt they commandeered it for L’Hotel de Ville and when the committee in Paris installed the Secret Police here they took over the southwest wing as their headquarters.
“So there will be doors or there were doors that connected the two” said Marty.
“Yes” Said Roland “but there is more. The Count was a bon vivant and had an extensive wine cellar. The story is that when he was beheaded the whole town stayed drunk on it for days. An exaggeration but it means that . . .”
“the cellar went right under the whole house!” finished Marty and grinned at his team, “We have our way in.”
The next day Marty and Antton visited l’Hotel de Ville on the pretext of extending their stay as one of their men was ill. They took note of the entrance and the windows, the security, the location of the staircases and what doors led off in which direction. They wandered down towards the west wing on the pretext that they were looking for a particular office and found a door without a label on it. They opened it and found it was a cupboard.
The Special Operations Flotilla Page 8