“May I have Stour and Nellie, sir? If they can anchor in the inlet, then it will be quicker than using the boats.”
“Take them, Sir Iain.”
The Marines were transported across to Perlen, to spend an uncomfortable few hours waiting to go ashore. Sir Iain took two hundred seamen from Waldeman, squeezing fifty apiece into the brigs and the rest to tow behind Perlen in their boats. They proceeded up the coast, seeming, they hoped, to continue their patrol.
Mr Dalby appeared in Pipsqueak just before full dark, reported that he had seen no ships, nothing more than fishing boats for fifty miles along the coast.
“You can expect not to be interrupted from the sea, Sir Iain, God speed, sir!”
Pipsqueak transported Sir Iain to Perlen and then ran ahead to confirm that the polaccas were still in harbour and that the lesser inlet was empty. She reported fishing boats beached at low tide, presumably to offload their catches and refloat with the making tide.
Sir Iain thought a few seconds, weighing up the alternatives. He had wanted to land in darkness, but had no wish to run over fishing boats at anchor in the inlet.
“Nellie to enter the inlet immediately, showing no flags. Mr Porteous is to offer no violence to the fishermen but is to hold them out of the way until we are all ashore. He is to question them as well – offering them silver which I shall provide on reaching the shore myself.”
The orders were sent and Nellie hardened her sails while simultaneously trying to seem no more than a trading brig wanting perhaps to fill her water without paying for the privilege in a harbour.
They listened anxiously, heard nothing – not so much as the pop of a pistol while they gave the appearance of slowly sailing up the coast.
“Can you see lookouts on the headland, Mr Vereker?”
Vereker could not, but took the obvious course of sending a lieutenant to the masthead with a glass for ten minutes.
“No visible sentry posts, sir. No camp fires. No blue coats and in fact, no people at all on top of the hill, sir. The headland will shelter us from view of the battery within twenty minutes, sir.”
“Very good! Mr Vereker, as soon as we are invisible to the battery, tack into the inlet. Confirm a depth of water with Nellie. Ready the Marines to go ashore at soonest. Landing parties from Nellie to go ashore, hold the beach and discover any track up the headland. Seamen in their boats to land as soon as you consider convenient, Mr Vereker. Stour to close the inlet in company. Better to change the plans now that there are fishermen there.”
They pressed in as fast as was possible and put the landing parties ashore while there was still daylight, a far simpler process than a night landing and with no losses of men or equipment.
Lieutenant Porteous greeted Sir Iain as he stepped from his boat.
“Sir, the fishermen say that the Frogs have been here for two months, sir. The battery was previously held by no more than a dozen all told of Spanish gunners. There are now twelve men to each great gun and a company of infantry as guards. The fishermen say that the French have been very well-behaved, sir, and have actually purchased fish. They say as well that there have been small convoys of carts coming in every few days and unloading into the warehouse. The polaccas are loading today and are to sail tomorrow with the contents of the warehouse.”
“What is it?”
“Not known, sir, but the drivers of the carts were foreigners from inland, sir – not local men and speaking in a very strange accent. They must come from at least a day away, sir.”
“Good. You have done well to discover so much, Mr Porteous. How much did it cost?”
“Very little, sir. I had twenty guineas in my purse, sir. There are five boats here and I lined up the owner of each and doled out a gold piece in hand, as a gift for inconveniencing them. Only two had ever seen gold, and they had to explain it to the others. Then I showed them another five coins, sir, and asked for information. One of those who knew what gold was had sailed in a merchantman, wines to Jersey, he said, and spoke some English. He translated until his throat was hoarse, sir.”
“Wines to Jersey, Mr Porteous? Only a small place, is it not?”
“It is the biggest entrepot in the whole Channel, sir. Smugglers from Jersey run wines openly into London, paying their bribes, sir, and cross almost every beach of Kent, Sussex and Hampshire, sir. Only the very best vintages go into London openly, of course, sir, for the bribes are said not to be small.”
“Live and learn, Mr Porteous. You will be refunded your ten guineas, sir – money very wisely spent! Far better to buy information than to flog for it!”
“I agree, sir. Wholly so! The cat has not come out of its bag since I entered into Nellie, sir, and I do not think our discipline is slacker than most. Reward, sir, is always my motto!”
“And a very good one, too, Mr Porteous. I too will not flog by choice. Indeed, I think that there are many fewer floggers in the Fleet than was used to be the case – and a good thing too!”
Sir Iain had happened to raise his voice towards the end of this conversation – he could see no reason why the men should not hear his opinion. He did not think that wicked men would pursue a path of vice for knowing that he was unhappy to flog them.
“What of the headland, Mr Porteous?”
“Rocky, sir, in the extreme, and almost impossible to traverse for the existence of what amounts to a dozen of small quarries. The battery was built from rock cut from the headland, utilising a number of convenient outcroppings rather than digging to any extent. The path goes round on the inland side, sir, a circuit of some three miles, but within reason easy to walk for a man with a basket of fish on his head. The fishermen will act as guides, sir – for a little more of cash.”
Sir Iain was happy to agree to their demand.
“Mr Quarles. Take a longboat and go out to Perlen. Inform Mr Vereker that the polaccas are laden with a cargo of unknown but quite possibly rich nature. They are probably ready to sail and he will take all necessary measures to secure them. You will then beg cash of him, in order to pay the fishermen for their services. Gold will be welcome; Spanish silver will also be of use. If Mr Vereker has an empty purse, then you must request extra men of him and row double-banked to Waldeman where you will ask the Commodore’s permission to enter my quarters and collect my purse from my servant. I need my coxswain here, I think, or he could do that more simply.”
Quarles ran to the largest boat, logically the fastest, ordered it launched, masts stepped, sail set, all instantly if not sooner. It was not often that a very junior midshipman had the opportunity to give orders to the more senior hands; they realised that he was under instructions to hurry and ran to his command, all very efficient. He would be very well-advised to find them a tot at some reasonably near occasion, Sir Iain thought, watching appreciatively. It was a measure of the men’s feeling that they cooperated – they could just as easily have fumbled and tripped and taken ten minutes longer to obey the boy.
“Would you ask the English-speaking fisherman to come to me, Mr Porteous?”
The man showed himself – ancient-seeming, probably no more than forty, worn by a bitter hard life of too much work and too little food.
“My officer is going now to find more coins, sir. There will be silver pieces for every man and another gold guinea for each of the leading men. Will that be sufficient for you to lead my people to the battery? I will promise that there will be no Frenchmen left to punish you afterwards.”
“That will be good, señor. If we could take some bread from you, sir, instead of the gold, that would be better. The French have paid for food, but they would not let us refuse to sell to them. We have little left, sir.”
“There will be food tomorrow, from the stores on the biggest ship. My word on it!”
The French were still allies of Spain, in theory, yet were reducing the peasantry and fisherfolk to something close to starvation; Sir Iain wondered what would happen when actual war broke out between the two countries. He much sus
pected that he would not wish to be a Spaniard then.
“Major Wakely – take the Marines in the lead, if you please. You will be guided by these Spanish gentlemen. They will take you to the rear of the village and the battery. There is a company of infantry as well as the crews to four very large guns. I would wish none of either to remain at liberty. In order to protect the Spanish gentlemen who have assisted us, we should kill or take every one of the Frogs. I shall leave fifty seamen here to hold the beach and our boats. That will give you one hundred and fifty of the hands to back your Marines.”
“Quite sufficient, sir. If I may suggest, sir, I shall split the Marines into two parties, the Waldemans for the battery, which has ramparts to scale and will be the more difficult. The Perlens will deal with the infantry with the assistance of the seamen, who you will lead behind them, sir. Again, sir, as we do not know the ground, we cannot plan, but I would hope that you might take the warehouse and clear the village of any French who might, for example, be in any inn or such.”
“Very good, sir. It may be best if we march as soon as possible.”
Major Wakely issued his orders.
Neither Marines nor seamen were in the habit of marching; they were hardy, strong men, but did not walk great distances aboard ship. The three miles around the headland took more than an hour, and the Marines’ feet were sore in their heavy boots and the seamen’s bare toes well stubbed on the rocky path.
“Was this a ten-mile march, sir, we would not complete it in a day, and possibly not at all.”
“Something I had not considered, Major Wakely. We must not attempt to take our men inland any distance.”
They sent two men out to discover exactly where the French were.
“Camp at two cables distant, sir. Not tents, sir, but rows of little brushwood shacks, sir, thrown up rough-like. Made out of branches of trees, mostly, sir, with grass sort of thatched on top. Could be some of them might stop a musket ball, sir. They ain’t big, sir. Mostly take two or three men laid out to sleep and no more than shoulder-high, sir. Most of the men are sat round fires, sir, with bottles of wine. Couldn’t see no sentries, sir.”
“I spotted ‘em, sir. Smithy ‘ere went this end of the camp and I ‘ad a look at t’other. They got a provost party, sir, eight men under a corporal, or maybe a sergeant – I ain’t sure of Frog uniforms and stripes, sir. Stood on the track, they are, sir. Well, not exactly, like, acos of they ain’t stood as such. They got a bigger sort of cabin there, sir, what ‘as got a sailcloth sort of roof with thatch on top to keep it dry and they got benches in there what they’re sat upon, except for two what’s walking patrol, just a ten-yard beat to keep ‘em awake.”
Sir Iain listened and noted the locations.
“Mr Fox, you will take twenty men with muskets and deal with the provost party. Wait until you hear a shot from anywhere else. Having secured the provost party, you will hold the track, allowing no French to escape.”
“Sir.”
“Select your men and go.”
Fox trotted off into the night, wholly competent. He had performed similar tasks in the past, expected no problems this time round.
“Major Wakely?”
“Perlen’s Marines, sir, are to attack the infantry. They will wait until the alarm is raised by my necessarily noisy assault on the battery. I can see no way to reach the sentries there and must shoot them. I shall use all of the Waldeman party, sir, none in reserve, having discovered the battery to have a rear wall and sentinels.”
“Very well, sir. Perlen’s Marines to fire how many volleys before they charge?”
“Three, sir. They will form a single line and make their onset without warning.”
“Very good. The remainder of the Waldemans, some one hundred and thirty, will charge immediately behind the Marines and will then proceed to clear the village and warehouse.”
“Moon will rise in thirty minutes, sir.”
Sir Iain glanced at the sky, almost cloud-free.
“We will take advantage of it. Make your assault five minutes prior to moonrise, Major Wakely, unless you are revealed to the enemy earlier.”
It occurred to Sir Iain that this was the third plan he had made in as many hours; he debated whether he was being too flexible. He wondered what Sir Frederick would have done, decided he might well have had no plan at all other than to dive in and pistol the nearest Frog.
He whispered his commands to the Waldemans and placed himself at their head, as was only right.
Perlen’s Marines set themselves in their double rank of eighteens, their captain to the front, ensign to the rear rank, sergeant hovering and watching.
Waldeman’s seamen bunched together in knots of mates or by their messes, depending on preference, each group with a leading hand and all under Midshipman Gilbert and Sir Iain. They knew where they were going, what they were going to do, and needed no great performance from officers and sergeants shouting orders. Those with muskets had picked out their points of aim; the pistoleers would wait until they were within one or two yards of a target.
A shot came from the battery – possibly an alert sentry as it was a little before time.
Volleys sounded from the battery and were instantly matched by Perlen’s Marines and Lieutenant Fox’s men. The other seamen delayed a second or two to take aim.
A general roar followed as the men charged.
Surprise was absolute. Among the French, only the sentries had loaded muskets, and most of them went down to the initial volleys. At most four shots were returned, one of them unfortunate – or very well aimed – to hit Lieutenant Fox squarely in the belly.
The infantry company numbered no more than sixty men, unarmed and unsuspecting. Twenty survived to surrender to the Marines. The seamen had already turned away to the village, Sir Iain leading them and bellowing.
“The Spanish are allies. Touch their property and you will be flogged. Commit rape and I will hang you. Kill them and I will give you a thousand knotted lashes!”
A thousand with the knotted cat was a slow death sentence, far more painful than the noose.
The warrant and petty officers took up the shout.
“Kill the Frogs. Don’t touch the Dons!”
There were sentries on the warehouse, a full platoon of ten men. Eight had placed their muskets on the ground and were stood under the only lantern, their hands raised hopefully high. The sergeant and one other stood to their front, presenting but not firing their muskets, presumably as some sort of statement of honour.
“Put those sodding guns down, you bloody fools!”
Sir Iain recognised Midshipman Gilbert’s shrill voice, nodded his satisfaction; the boy was in the correct place and doing the right thing.
Silence ensued, so Sir Iain presumed the French had seen wisdom.
There was nothing to be heard from the battery. Sir Iain hoped this to mean that it had been taken; he sent his coxswain to find out.
“Polaccas are making sail, sir!”
That sounded like One Hand Dick’s voice – and he had not been named to the shore party. Sir Iain debated disciplining him for his initiative and very quickly decided that would be an act of purest stupidity.
“Thank you, Mr Cheek! Signal Perlen. Mr Vereker will take them in hand.”
Lanterns flashed from the quayside and were acknowledged from the darkness to sea. A minute later a chase gun boomed and the polaccas changed their minds about sailing.
“Mr Gilbert, take a party into the warehouse to discover what is there.”
Sir Iain made his way back into the centre of the village, found its single drinking house, fully lit and with men waiting outside.
“English?”
“Captain Sir Iain Jackman, Waldeman, 80, under the command of Commodore Sir Frederick Harris.”
Sir Iain made an abbreviated bow, uncertain of the identity of his challenger.
“Torres, alcalde. I am honoured, sir!”
Good enough English and a far deeper bow.
Sir Iain’s coxswain returned, confirmed the battery to be taken, all French accounted for.
“No officers there, sir.”
The alcalde, the senior man of the village, spoke up.
“The French officers were all eating their dinners here, sir, as they did every night. We heard the shooting and cut their throats, sir, every one of them. Fortunately, before the first plates were on the table, and so wasting no food.”
“Very practical, sir. I must congratulate you on your initiative. May I ask what the French were doing here, sir?”
“I do not know, of a certainty, sir. They brought wagon-loads from inland, placing them in the warehouse, which was forbidden to us. We were to provide labourers tomorrow to load the polaccas.”
Midshipman Gilbert came at the run.
“Beg pardon, sir, but the warehouse has metals in it, sir. Bars of silver – though not many of those; ingots of lead and copper; some hide bags, sir, that Mr Cheek says is mercury, he thinks.”
“From the mines inland, sir.” The alcalde said. “They normally go to ports on the Atlantic coast, but the French must have thought them better shipped from this side of the country.”
“The blockade is certainly effective on the Atlantic coast, sir.”
Sir Iain was much in favour of a warehouse with even a little of metal in it. Mercury was half as valuable as gold, weight for weight; silver was always handy and copper was fetching higher prices as the war continued. Even humble lead was bringing a few pounds for a ton.
“Have you a militia which can take over the battery, sir? I will not wish to destroy the guns if they can be put to Spanish use.”
“Is Spain no longer at war with England, sir?”
“A very good question, señor. I do not know. To be honest, I believe that just at the moment there is no such country as Spain. There is certainly no single government. Most parts of Spain are controlled by juntas. Thus, sir, I am unwilling to consider you my enemy, but I do not know exactly what you may be.”
Deadly Shores (The Duty and Destiny Series, Book 11) Page 5