Shores of Barbary (The Duty and Destiny Series, Book 12)

by Andrew Wareham

  Off Benghazi the squadron fell into blockade routine, the two-deckers in proper line and the small craft ranging inshore along the littoral, seeking prizes and finding many, all of them proclaiming neutrality.

  In the nature of things, coasters out of Egypt possessed no papers written in English, and often no documents at all. Determining neutrality was not simple in such a circumstance. The nature of their cargo could help make a decision – if they had military stores aboard then they could not claim to be non-combatant in origin and nature – but most carried ambivalent goods. Twenty tons of lentils or chick-peas or other pulses or grains could be rations for the corsairs, or food for the civilian markets, and how could one tell for certain?

  In the end Frederick laid down that their ownership must be the determining factor; if they were out of Benghazi or Tripoli, or even Tunis or Algiers further to the west, then they were owned by Barbary pirates; if they came from a smaller haven, or from the east, then they were no more than traders. The corsairs were sent into Malta, to the Prize Court, while those found to be neutral were released, and often scurried into the shelter of Benghazi.

  The squadron patrolled the coast below the Green Mountains and were amazed to see the fertile lands along the shore, having imagined the whole of North Africa to be desert.

  “Still no great trees, sir – they could not build large ships on this coast.”

  “Fortunately, perhaps, gentlemen.”

  They could, and did, build powerful forts it seemed, with heavy guns mounted. Frederick searched for a suitable target for a raid and decided that there was none. There were batteries in plenty, and each with substantial armed camps behind them; where there was a harbour, there was also one of the greater fortresses.

  “West, Captain Arbuthnot. We shall do no good here. The ports seem richer, but I suspect that has enabled them to defend themselves the better. Offshore, out of sight of land, and back into the Gulf of Sidrah, and look for trade there.”

  A delay for the cutters and brigs to return from their sweeps along the coast, and to report empty seas, word having gone east that sailing was unwise for the while, there being a hungry flotilla waiting.

  “How far should we sail north, sir?”

  Frederick had no immediate answer. The wind was set in the northeast, giving the squadron a degree of freedom in its course but offering the possibility of a lee shore if it strengthened. Mediterranean winds were never as predictable as those of the great oceans, he knew, and could vary from near-calm to half a gale in the space of a dog-watch; better to play safe.

  “Nor’-nor’-west for the daylight hours, Captain Arbuthnot. Due west till dawn and then to make further into the Gulf. Just as precaution, to be on the safe side, let Sandwich, Gannet and Puffin make due north and take a sweep for two days across a line from the Greek Islands into the Gulf of Sidrah. There may be the chance of another frigate like Valmy, or of a fleet on its way to Mars-Al-Brega – not a ‘fleet’ as such, I should say, but a number of troopships under heavy escort. Was the French to have recruited mercenaries from the Islands and the mainland to the north, they could have it in mind to carve out a colony in North Africa. It has been in my mind to question just why they should have been building a base in Mars-Al-Brega – and the sole answer I can come up with is to set an army ashore and then to march east on Benghazi and the richer lands there. Having taken them, they can move more easily into Egypt, and then, Bonaparte’s recurring dream, on to India. He has tried a sea-borne invasion, and failed. A colony hereabouts and he might succeed, particularly if he makes use of men from the Near East. The Ottomans are in collapse, will be unable to oppose him, and we would find it difficult after the event, when once he was established on the coast here.”

  “Thus, sir, if we find such an enterprise, what do you do?”

  “Attack it, of course, sending a cutter with all haste to the Mediterranean Fleet and another to Malta. We could enjoy a most unusual action, Captain Arbuthnot. The escort would probably be of ships taken from Venice – heavy frigates and fifty or sixty gun two-deckers. It might be an interesting fight, sir, the Frogs clustering two and three to our ships.”

  Captain Arbuthnot’s face suggested that he could find a word other than ‘interesting’ for such an action.

  “Brigs and remaining cutter to escort the Sea-Soldiers clear, I presume, sir.”

  “Not necessarily – it would depend on the nature of the French escort. If they had small craft as well, then the little vessels would have them on their hands.”

  “Sloops and Sandwich, sir?”

  “To get into the French transports, Captain Arbuthnot. Remember the Glorious First of June, sir, when Black Dick Howe defeated a French fleet but neglected the convoy, which fed starving France. Our aim must be to put down the troopers first and foremost. ‘Sink, burn or otherwise destroy’ – we must never lose sight of the main aim of a battle.”

  If Frederick fell, Captain Arbuthnot would take command and should know what the aims and intentions of the admiral had been.

  “It is more likely, sir, that there will be no French fleet. What do we do then?”

  “Beat up the coast, Captain Arbuthnot. Close the shores to all traffic; burn out a port or two; seek to disrupt the everyday life of the people. We are to let the inhabitants of the Barbary Coast have a taste of their own medicine, vicious though that policy may be.”

  They swept inshore and passed Mars-Al-Brega, their telescopes showing an empty harbour and apparently dead town, devoid of visible life.

  “They will have made their way along the coast, probably, Captain Arbuthnot, unless they have been raided and destroyed by the people from inland. There are the Bedu, one is told, who are corsairs of the desert, as merciless as ever the Barbary pirates can be. Unfortunate for the people, but one cannot say undeserved – ‘who lives by the sword, shall die by the sword’ – an old saying, but not wholly untrue.”

  “Do not we live by the sword, sir? The Navy is hardly renowned for its love of peace and quiet!”

  “True indeed, Captain Arbuthnot! How many of your acquaintance from boyhood days are still alive, sir?”

  Captain Arbuthnot laughed and shook his head, and made no reply.

  Sandwich and the two sloops rejoined off the port of Misrata, a day’s sail east of Tripoli, reporting clear seas, nothing seen. They took their place in the line as the squadron made a show off the harbour, parading threateningly a league offshore and inspecting the very large and powerful-seeming fortifications that protected the shipping there.

  “No galleys, sir, and very few of obvious-seeming pirates. Perhaps they have all sailed, or possibly, the ruler here has changed his ways. Do we know anything of the town, sir?”

  “Not a thing, not for certain, Captain Arbuthnot! It is, according to the intelligence attached to my orders, ruled by Tripoli; but it is at a distance, so must have its own governor, or such like. It might be thoroughly under the Tripolitanian thumb; but it could just as well be effectively independent – you know what these people are for rebelling against their lawful princes! These Janissaries and things are in no way trustworthy.”

  “Are Janissaries to be found in these parts, sir?”

  “Not necessarily as such, Captain, but something similar by way of Nubians or their like, quite probably. The Berber princes are thin of their own people and hire in all sorts of mercenaries, who very often then take power. No concept of loyalty, you know – but one does not look for such virtue in Johnny Foreigner, when all is said and done.”

  Captain Arbuthnot knew that to be true – there was no gain to offering trust and good faith to any of the world’s unfortunates, born on the far side of the English Channel.

  “Aye, sir, a foreigner is a foreigner, and that means, they are not English!”

  “Quite right, sir! I must say, I occasionally have my doubts about these Welsh and Scots, and, as for the Irish… Well! Though, of course, they have all three been subject to England long enough to have learned
civilised ways, most of them. I have known some excellent officers from those three regions.”

  “Very true, sir. Englishness does rub off on the most unlikely folk – look at our Sea Soldiers, as an example.”

  Frederick was pleased by that last comment – he had felt the same himself but had been unwilling to say so, for fear that the comment might be thought to suggest that slavery was beneficial in some way to its victims.

  “I wonder just how strongly that fortress is manned, Captain Arbuthnot. What do you think?”

  “No guns fired, sir. No sign of men on the battlements. If I was defending that old castle, sir, I would lay low and let the enemy guess, in the hope that he might come close enough for a first, well-laid broadside to be effective. It might be that the town has few defenders, sir. It could be that there is a battalion of gunners sat hopefully low, praying for us to come closer.”

  “That brings us back to our first conjectures, Captain Arbuthnot. If they have no ships, if they have foresworn raiding, then they might have few soldiers to hand – for seeing no need to defend themselves, having provoked no attack. But they might have sent a fleet out to sweep the coasts of Italy, and so have only a minimal guard left. Or, they might have a heavy garrison from Tripoli, to keep the people here subservient. We hardly dare to send a ship in under a white flag to talk to them – so we remain in ignorance.”

  Frederick stared at the empty shore for a few minutes then ordered the squadron to sail west, to discover what might be further along the coast.

  “Wood and water in Malta, sir? Or should we hope to find a supply along the shore here?”

  It was the flag-captain’s responsibility to see to the welfare of the squadron. The ships had greater hold space, proportionately, than the smaller vessels, could carry water for more days; the cutters and brigs would be on short issue well before the two-deckers found any problem.

  “Send the small craft in, or hold the squadron together? The Admiral in Malta should have some knowledge of the North African shore; he has his patrols and will have some intelligencers. Perhaps it would be as well to make our number with him, Captain Arbuthnot. It would do the men good to stretch their legs ashore as well… He might be able to point us in the best direction. Who has Malta now, do you know?”

  “I don’t, sir. It is a Vice-Admiral’s command and separate from the Mediterranean Fleet – there had been some talk of making the post of Commander-in-Chief in the Mediterranean, sir, but that has come to nothing, the job simply too great for any one man. The Fleet itself is sufficiently demanding, wearing down the commander with its unending sea-time. In the Channel Fleet, the Admiral may get ashore at least once in every two years, may even manage a week or two at home. In the Sugar Islands or India, he will be ashore at least as much as he is at sea – but in the Mediterranean – the Admiral sees nothing other than his cabin for as much as four or five years unbroken. Malta, of course, is essentially shore-based, and far easier, but I do not know who has it.”

  “Thinking on it, is Malta well off for water? Will we be entirely welcome there?”

  Captain Arbuthnot did not know, but he had a feeling that the island was on the dry side, particularly during the months of the English summer.

  “We might be well-advised to travel further west, sir, to the Empire of Morocco…”

  “I shall inspect my orders, Captain Arbuthnot. There may be a paragraph there which I have not given my fullest attention.”

  Lieutenant Aggers, at Frederick’s shoulder when he had no other specific task, coughed significantly.

  “I believe my Flag-Lieutenant has read the relevant passage already, Captain Arbuthnot. What does it say, Mr Aggers?”

  “The squadron might water at Palermo, sir, most conveniently. Moroccan waters are to be avoided, except in urgent need.”

  “Unpleasant place, Palermo, if I remember, Mr Aggers. A corrupt kingdom, calls itself ‘Two Sicilies’ but has only got one of them. King’s mad and the Queen’s a trollop. Relies on the Navy to prevent an invasion from the north. City’s full of whores and dollies – said to be the main industry of the place. Might be a good place to take the squadron when the men need shore leave, but not otherwise. Perhaps we could release the small craft in pairs to cruise the Sicilian waters and to water in Palermo as convenient.”

  They agreed that to make sense.

  “Detach Hamble and Arun cutters to cruise westabout Sicily, I think, and two of the brigs to examine the waters to the east. I still have this feeling that there will be French ships out of the Aegean, you know, Captain Arbuthnot – it seems logical, somehow.”

  Captain Arbuthnot felt he might have studied a different sort of logic – but it was not his place to argue with his Admiral’s opinions. He collaborated with Lieutenant Aggers to write brief but within reason precise orders to the four vessels, watched as they fled the confines of the squadron, the irritation of having to conform to the ships’ course and speed.

  The squadron pointed up for Malta, leaving the dry, sterile African coast for a few days.

  Frederick did not know the admiral in Malta, not even by reputation; the admiral, however, had heard of him as a coming man with too many friends in high places. Vice-Admiral Sir Augustus Keppel was five steps senior to Frederick, and was enjoying one of the more profitable postings in the Navy, but he had a yen to take a fleet to sea and preside over a great action; there would be an earldom for a victory to match Trafalgar, and probably a place under government for life, a Governorship, possibly even India, for example. Such being the case, it was wiser to bring influential folk to his side as allies.

  “Sir Frederick – Blue at the Mizzen, sir, as we must all be glad to see! I had heard that you were sadly wounded, am delighted that you are returned to health and strength!”

  “Thank you, Sir Augustus – I am now, I think, well again – but it took the greater part of two years to recover. Losing an arm may not have been the cleverest thing I have ever done, you know, sir. Still, Lord Nelson was injured far more, and if I can achieve one half, no, one quarter as much as him, I shall be very satisfied.”

  “So say we all, Sir Frederick. I believe you were never so fortunate as to serve under him. I was one of his captains for two years. A truly great man, sir. I doubt we shall see his like again. I sat down and wept, sir – I freely admit – when I heard the news of Trafalgar. So did many another, I believe.”

  “I am told so, Sir Augustus. A rare man, and one I am sorry never to have met. We must all admire him, and accept that we can never hope to emulate his deeds. I must do my little bit, however, sir. I am tasked, as you will be aware, to teach the Barbary pirates their manners. They need a thorough kicking, sir. My difficulty just now is to decide exactly where I should direct my efforts. Have your intelligencers any word, sir, on the French activities along the North African shores?”

  Sir Augustus knew a little, was aware that much was hidden from him.

  “The frigate Valmy that you sent in, Sir Frederick, was carrying a few thousands in gold, hidden away in a strongbox sort of thing which came to light when we examined the captain’s cabin, and destined for the ruler in Mars-Al-Brega. The ship was under orders to then seek another harbour – either to east or west – that could be used in an emergency – essentially as a haven from storms for stores and troop ships. Bonaparte’s people were not especially clever in that they separated their orders, one set with the Confidential Books, which went over the side, and the other in the cabin of a passenger, a diplomatic sort of civilian, and he was killed in the first broadsides and never cleared his papers. There is an intention, without doubt, to send an army to the North African shores, and to march it to the east, eventually. There is no indication of a date, not even a year, and I am given the impression that the plan is seen as to take effect in the longer term. Very vague!”

  “Was Misrata mentioned as a possibility, sir?”

  “Only as a name, Sir Frederick. Benghazi was specifically identified, but only as a place t
o keep clear of – too powerful to take from the sea. A siege eventually to be necessary. My people will be able to tell you more, I hope. You will wish to talk with them.”

  Frederick was pleased to accept that invitation; one of the special people would join him aboard Conquest in a few hours, Admiral Keppel said.

  “Now, Sir Frederick – you will no doubt wish to draw upon my stores – I have instructions from the Admiralty that you are to do so.”

  “My small ships are, as ever, in need of water, sir, if that can be arranged. No doubt the pursers will all wish to replenish their tobacco, and the cooks will demand wood. For biscuit and beef and pork, there should be less of a need, sir. I believe that water may be a problem to you, Malta being a dry sort of place. Would it make more sense for the squadron to seek water in Palermo?”

  “Sir Iain Farquhar greatly enlarged the cisterns in the years he had Malta, Sir Frederick, and in fact I have a substantial surplus on normal needs. Assuming that the winter rains do not fail, then I should be able to supply all you require and still be well-off myself. As for Palermo – well, Sir Frederick, I would not be inclined to take a squadron of mine to that hell-hole of corruption, disease and depravity! Add to that, they have water – but it will take a brave man with an iron stomach to drink it! The concept of clean water seems to have escaped them. So, my advice would be to water here, Sir Frederick, and save your surgeons a deal of bother.”

  “That will be far more convenient to me, sir, as you will appreciate. I must express my thanks, sir. I am not displeased to hear of the gold on Valmy, sir. An admiral’s eighth can be pleasant on occasion!”

  “It can indeed, Sir Frederick. I have frigates and sloops cruising the Levant and am not infrequently reminded of that particular pleasure myself. On that topic – frigates – your Lachesis will not be rejoining you for months, if ever, she was so badly handled by Valmy. I read your reports, of course, and am a little surprised that your captain chose to exchange broadsides with so powerful a ship.”