by David McDine
Anson doubted that would work and stated the obvious: ‘Unless they turn away we must run.’
‘Certainly. If we are taken by the republicans we can expect no mercy. We will be executed as traitors and you English will become guests of Bonaparte for the duration of the war.’
The cannon sounded again, closer now, and the ball could be heard splashing nearby.
Still studying the frigate through the glass, Hurel called out: ‘They ’ave run up a flag signal, but without their code book there is no way we can know what it says.’
Anson offered: ‘I think I can tell you. What I would be hoisting if I were the French captain is “Heave to and prepare to be boarded” or something very like it.’
‘Then let’s ’eave to and see what ’appens.’
Hove to, Tortue wallowed in the swell. Anson borrowed the glass and peered at the French frigate. ‘They’re lowering two boats and it looks like they have marines in them!’
Le Compte warned: ‘Then they ’ave made up our minds for us. If we were just Frenchmen we might be able to bluff it out, pretending that we are on some official mission. But with you English on board we cannot risk a search.’
‘Very well, let’s wait until they are almost alongside then make a dash for it. We will have a few minutes’ grace. The frigate won’t risk firing at us for fear of sinking her own boats.’
Hurel looked doubtful. ‘I ’ope you are right, mon ami. Our lives depend on it!’
The two French boats were now in hailing distance and Le Compte shouted to them in rapid French. Anson caught only the gist of it — words to the effect that they were shipyard men trialling the chaloupe following repairs. But whether he was believed or not, the boats kept coming and the marines crouching in the thwarts could be seen readying their weapons.
‘There is nothing more we can do. They intend to board us and if they do...’ Hurel drew his index finger across his throat.
Anson looked this way and that, noting that the chaloupe’s crew were arming themselves and Nat Bell was checking his blunderbuss and the two pistols.
Looking to Cassandra and Bessie, Parkin and Pettiworth huddled together aft, he wondered for a moment if for their safety the best thing would be to surrender without further ado.
But he understood that the royalists were in graver peril so they would have to attempt a last-minute dash and if that failed at least make a fight of it, reasoning that the enemy would not harm the civilians intentionally.
Hurel, musket in hand, shouted to Anson: ‘If it comes to it we will show them we are armed and we will see which side winks first, mon ami!’
Amused despite the imminent danger, Anson corrected him: ‘It’s blinks, not winks!’ But a sudden hail from Tortue’s helmsman drew his attention to another sail coming up fast from the west.
He trained the telescope on the newcomer. Another frigate — and there was something most familiar about her rakish lines. As he watched, colours were hoisted and he saw to his delight not the tricolour but the Union flag.
‘She’s British!’ Anson was about to add: ‘Looks like my old ship Phryne!’ But he hesitated, unsure.
‘The Lord be praised!’ Pettiworth exclaimed.
Parkin gave him a questioning look. ‘I didn’t realise you were a believer, Obadiah.’
‘Only at moments of great extremity!’
But Anson warned: ‘We’re not out of trouble yet. Hurel, strike the tricolour. We don’t want these Brits to get the wrong idea!’
‘Immediately, mon ami! And shall we run up the royalist flag? Le Compte ’as one with ’im.’
‘If you please. That will at least get them thinking and hunting through their signal book.’
The British frigate had also been spotted from the pursuing boats which, from being hunters, had suddenly become the prey.
55
‘Beat to Quarters!’
On board HMS Phryne, Captain John Howard rubbed his hands in expectation.
Newly promoted, now that George Phillips had been posted to a shore job, he was relishing the command that he had craved for so long. With the resumption of hostilities he had been despatched from Portsmouth to take a look at the Normandy coast from Dieppe northwards to the Straits of Dover to monitor any enemy activity. And now, with the peace only ended for a matter of days, here was a chance to distinguish himself in action against a French frigate.
What’s more, running before the prevailing south westerly, he had the weather gauge.
‘Mister Allfree!’
‘Sir?’
‘Beat to quarters!’
Allfree beamed. ‘Bosun, beat to quarters!’
As the continuous roll was thundered out by the marine drummer there was a thumping and clattering of feet throughout the ship, suddenly seething like a disturbed anthill, as men rushed to their action stations.
The few old lags and landsmen who were a little tardy were hurried on their way by the bosun’s mates. But for most, no goading was necessary. The drumming excited the blood and stirred men to action — a summons to glory, or death.
Howard planted his legs apart to steady himself and peered through his glass to study the scene ahead. It was puzzling. There was enough moonlight to see a French frigate hove to right enough, but two of its boats appeared to be closing on a two-masted vessel that was wallowing in the swell apparently about to be boarded.
And as he watched, the smaller vessel suddenly lowered the tricolour and hoisted a white flag.
‘Well I’ll be damned!’ His mind jumped back to the time when a French warship had appeared out of the fog flying a white flag. But that had been a flag of truce and they had first learned that peace had been signed.
If this two-master was French there would be no way the crew would be surrendering to the first British sail that appeared — not when backed by a French frigate.
No, it appeared that the vessel was about to be boarded by the Frenchman’s boats, so there had to be another explanation.
‘Mister Allfree, I do believe the crew of the smaller vessel might be royalists, trying to escape. See if the gunner can frighten off those two boats with a bow- chaser, but mind, he is not to endanger the vessel flying the white flag.’
‘But why a white flag, sir?’
‘Because that’s what French royalists use — and they are on our side. So let’s get to it!’
Allfree touched his hat and hurried for’ard, calling for the gunner.
*
The sighting shot from Phryne’s bow-chaser skimmed the water and caused consternation among the marines in the two boats.
Amid much shouting, order and counter-order, the crews brought them round and headed back towards the French frigate.
The Frenchman could not risk firing at the chaloupe while his own boats were in the way, and the unexpected arrival of the Royal Navy was giving the captain something more important to concern himself with than boarding a suspect vessel. Oarsmen rowing furiously, the two French boat crews parted, clearly intending to go one to starboard and the other to larboard to shelter behind their mother ship.
As Phryne came up to the chaloupe, Howard leaned over the side and shouted into his speaking trumpet: ‘Attendez, messieurs. Nous...’ But his French was not up to it. He was about to say ‘retourner’, but something told him that meant overturn, and they would not appreciate that, so he fell back on English, shouting: ‘We’ll come back for you!’
There was a cluster of civilians and crewmen on deck and something very familiar about one of them, a tall slim man with dark hair and a scarred face. ‘Good Lord, it’s Anson!’
But before he could do a double-take, the chaloupe was already behind him and he focused instead on the French frigate looming up. Behind him, the chaloupe’s crew seized the opportunity to escape and bore away nor’west.
Ahead of Phryne, the boats had disappeared behind the Frenchman, and Howard imagined the marines were by now scrambling back on board on the lee side. He called for the master. ‘
Mister Tutt. She’s caught bow on to seaward. I intend to run past raking her as our guns bear, is that clear?’
Tutt touched his hat, shouted his orders to the helmsman and warned the captain: ‘We have the weather gauge, sir, but we must be mindful of the shore batteries behind Berck and the fort south of the Baie de l’Authie.’
Howard recognised that this was Tutt’s polite way of telling him to stay the hell out of range, but he accepted it readily. The French were known to have 24-pounders or even 32-pound monsters commanding entry to their harbours and capable of blasting anything that could float out of the water.
They were well protected behind embrasures five-foot-thick and eight-foot-high, and had furnaces for heating shot — a frightening prospect for men in a wooden warship unable to elevate their own guns enough to counter them.
The gunner was hovering at Howard’s elbow.
‘Mister Rogers!’
‘Sir?’
‘Load alternate guns with bar. As we pass the Frenchman’s bow I want the starboard guns to fire one by one as they bear: pop, pop, pop, pop! This is not about killing Frenchmen. I intend to disable her, so we’ll go for the top hamper: masts, sails and rigging.’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’
‘We only have one chance before the shore batteries come into action. So each shot must count. Pass the word.’
He turned to the first lieutenant. ‘Mister Allfree!’
‘Sir?’
‘Our sharpshooters are to target anyone anywhere near the Frenchman’s bow chasers. I don’t want to see any return fire.’
As the gap between the opposing frigates closed, Phryne’s alternate gun crews were scrabbling in the shot lockers for the double headed bar shot designed to shred canvas and rigging and damage an enemy’s superstructure.
Boys had already scampered back from the magazine with charges that were quickly rammed down, followed by the ball or bar. Wads were inserted and rammed home and guns were manoeuvred into position with handspikes and elevated.
Finally, gun captains pricked the cartridges through the vents and stood by, slow-match in hand ready to fire.
*
On board the Rapide the captain had been taken by surprise by the fast approach of the British frigate.
One minute he had been carrying out a routine stop and search operation of a suspect chaloupe reported missing from Étaples, and now, hove to and with two of his boats on his lee side with marines scrambling back on board, he found himself at the mercy of an enemy frigate that had the weather gauge on him and was coming up fast on a run.
Seeing what was coming, he gave orders to bear away — boats or no boats — so that his own larboard guns could be brought into action, but it was already too late. Phryne was almost on her and as she drew level the British frigate’s starboard 18-pounders began to thunder out, one by one, the detonations almost simultaneous.
With her guns elevated, Phryne’s ball and bar shot screamed across the Frenchman’s deck from end to end tearing gaping holes in the frigate’s canvas, bringing rigging tumbling down, smashing anything within its path and sending deadly splinters flying. From such close range, no more than 100 yards, Phryne’s gunners could not miss and Howard punched the air in triumph.
The detonations continued, with the unoccupied larboard crews helping to drag the aftermost guns to an angle enabling them to get their shots in as they swept past.
There was a brief deafened silence after the last gun had fired and the Frenchman was left rocking with tattered canvas and rigging raining down on deck. And then a loud creaking was accompanied by cheers from the Phryne, as the crippled enemy frigate’s foremast toppled and came crashing down.
It had been struck at least twice at head height and its fall covered the Rapide’s bow completely with canvas and detritus.
Delighted, Howard quickly calculated the possibility of turning to windward to gain sea-room, then bearing away and heading up to pass the stricken Frenchman again to have another go, this time with his larboard guns. Boarding and taking an enemy frigate was an enormously tempting proposition and would mean glory and prize money. But, if only slightly misjudged, such a manoeuvre could expose Phryne to a battering from the enemy’s starboard guns — and there were the shore batteries to consider.
He had only a few moments to make the decision and in the event it was made for him. Puffs of smoke appeared as one of the shore batteries opened up. The French gunners had clearly worked on the ranges and the first shot splashed in Phryne’s wake.
Given time, they would no doubt do even better. So Howard resigned himself to the reality that there was no chance of a second run even supposing he could claw his way back.
A cheeky skirmisher called down from the rigging: ‘Can’t we have another go, sir?’
Howard forgave forwardness from keen hands. ‘I fear not, Adams. Much as I’d love to, we can’t risk the shore batteries. One heated shot from them in the wrong place and we’d all be shaking hands with the devil!’
Obvious disappointment showed on every face, but no-one from the first lieutenant to the newest landsman questioned his decision. All knew that he would win no laurels for hazarding his ship. On the contrary, he risked a court martial. The French frigate was clearly out of action, but with it under the protection of the shore batteries it would be madness to continue the engagement.
Not least, there was the mysterious chaloupe to investigate — and he was anxious to find out what Anson was up to.
Well past the stricken Frenchman, Phryne rounded to larboard and once far enough out to sea and well beyond the reach of the batteries tacked back to intercept the chaloupe.
56
A Surprise for the Colonel
The chaloupe bumped alongside Phryne, a rope ladder was thrown down and an officer climbed down.
‘Allfree!’
Phryne’s new first lieutenant grinned broadly. ‘One and the same, and very good to see you, Anson! Been pestering the Frogs again?’
‘We were merely taking a peaceful holiday in France when all of a sudden Englishmen were in season again and we had to hide up for a while and then make a run for it.’
‘And you’ve brought some Frenchmen with you, I see.’
‘Yes, royalists. We owe them — and Phryne — our freedom, if not our lives.’
‘Good, good. Well, we’ll get your party on board and send an officer and some hands to help your tame Frenchmen bring her over to England. I take it that’s where they want to go?’
‘It’s their dearest wish.’
‘Excellent! Now, I’ll need to have some kind of bosun’s chair rigged to haul up the ladies.’ He gave the elderly Parkin and the chubby Pettiworth the once-over. ‘Hmm, and we’ll need it for these two gentlemen, too.’
*
There was a joyful reunion in the great cabin of HMS Phryne.
Anson introduced the party to his old shipmate Captain Howard and one by one they thanked their saviour effusively. Pettiworth, still clutching his leather satchel, assured him: ‘Their lordships will hear of this, captain. I quite thought we were done for and then suddenly you appeared and went straight at ’em — just like Nelson himself!’
Later, alone with Howard on the quarter deck, Anson enquired how his friend had come to command Phryne. ‘The last I heard was that she was one of many ships going into ordinary.’
‘You’re right. She was earmarked for mothballing and a few weeks after you left us at Portsmouth we paid off.’
‘What happened to Captain Phillips?’
‘Much to his surprise, he was offered a shore job down in Plymouth. He was delighted because he’d expected to be on the beach like so many others. As it is he was able to send for his wife from Pembrokeshire and they’ve set up home near the dockyard. He’s happy as a sand-boy.’
‘And you?’
‘Like you, I was sent packing on half pay and crawled back to my family home, wondering what the hell to do with the rest of my life. But then their lordships had
a change of heart — that is, if they have a heart between ’em.’
Anson smiled knowingly. Their masters at the Admiralty were not known for kind-hearted gestures and the right man did not always get the right job, but more often than not they did get it right by inserting a round peg in a round hole.
‘It appears that when the dockyard people were preparing to mothball Phryne they noticed she was in far better nick than most. Someone dug out the paperwork about what amounted to a recent refit at Chatham and their lordships decided to keep her after all.’
‘But you’d gone home?’
‘Yes, but to my astonishment they recalled me from darkest Yorkshire, promoted me and offered me command. Naturally I hesitated for a few seconds and then accepted graciously!’
‘Anson laughed. Well, it was no more than you deserved and I wish you joy of it.’
‘I’m sure George Phillips had a hand in it.’
‘It wouldn’t be surprising. He was a good captain. You say the old ship’s company was paid off, but I notice some familiar faces: Mister Tutt, Allfree — now your first lieutenant, I note — and a few others.’
‘Yes, I managed to track quite a few down and they were only too pleased to come back. There are a lot of new men, too, but with so many on the beach because of the peace I was pretty much able to pick and choose.’
‘So they’re a good lot?’
‘They are, and now that we’ve seen some action they’ll be cock-a-hoop, especially if prize money is forthcoming for this vessel of yours.’
‘Well, she’s technically an enemy vessel and I doubt the crew will be concerned about what happens to her. As royalists all they want to do is undermine Bonaparte in any way they can.’
‘This chaloupe you’ve commandeered, d’you reckon it was part of an invasion flotilla?’
‘No doubt. I saw for myself three-masted prames and chaloupes like this. Then there are gunboats, barges and caiques. The bigger vessels are designed to carry artillery, cavalry horses and a great many men — and this is merely what they have at Étaples. I’m led to believe they’re gathering similar flotillas in ports from Dunkirk in the north right down to Le Havre.’