It was afternoon on May 22nd, 1795, when the merchantman Bonne Citoyenne passed the Pointe du Rozel on the last stage of her regular passage from Bordeaux to Cherbourg. There was a fresh south-westerly breeze and she stood up the Passage de la Deroute under easy sail and keeping a sharp look-out. There was Jersey to windward and Alderney ahead and the captain, Citoyen Carignan, a cautious man, would breathe a sigh of relief when he rounded the Cap de la Hague. It would have been better seamanship, no doubt, to lay a course direct from Brest to a point west of Alderney, leaving Guernsey to starboard. He would then, however, have been far from the friendly ports to leeward. By hugging the coastline, on the other hand, he was always within easy reach of St Brieux, St Malo, Granville, Reynville, Havre de St Germain or La Gravelle. Beyond that was a stretch of inhospitable coastline ending in Cap de la Hague, with Cherbourg round the point. With this breeze even a heavily laden ship would be safe in Cherbourg harbour by the evening. The sun was bright, the visibility was excellent and the lookout in the foretop had no difficulty in seeing the sail which appeared directly ahead. He hailed the deck and the captain went halfway up the mizen shrouds with his telescope. As soon as he reached the quarterdeck again he gave the order to clear for action, for the stranger was clearly hostile and stood directly in his path. Citoyen Carignan would soon have to make a choice between battle or flight. Faced by a small privateer he would be prepared to fight his way through the passage between Alderney and Cap de la Hague. Since he mounted 22 guns and had a crew of seventy, he could beat off the average privateer; and the sound of gunfire might bring out a cruiser from Cherbourg. Faced by a frigate, on the other hand, he would run to leeward and take refuge at La Gravelle. To sail back the way he had come could be fatal, as he realized, for a frigate, working to windward, would certainly overtake him in a matter of hours.
“What do you make of her?” Carignan asked of his first mate, to whom he handed the telescope.
“No frigate, Captain, that is certain.”
“But a national corvette?”
“Who knows? Perhaps twenty guns, no ensign, worn sails. . . . She looks—no, I can’t make her out.” He handed the telescope back and the captain renewed his scrutiny. The distance between the two ships was lessening but the stranger, at closer range, was still something of a mystery. As he watched, the corvette (if she was a corvette) tacked. She had been on the port tack when first seen, standing north-westwards under easy sail. For a minute or two her masts were in line. Then she was on the other tack, heading towards the French coast. If both ships held their present course the enemy privateer (or corvette?) would soon cut the Bonne Citoyenne off from her nearest refuge at La Gravelle. Carignan would then have no choice to make, with Cherbourg his only possible place of safety, the enemy to windward of him and 45 miles to go before sunset. The two ships were now converging rapidly but Carignan made more sail and thus made sure of reaching the point of intersection before his opponent. Although within range, neither opened fire for some minutes. Then the enemy’s bow-chaser boomed, the smoke billowed and dispersed and the corvette (or privateer) hoisted her white ensign and pennant. The shot was across the bows and a signal followed, presumably ordering the merchantman to heave to. Carignan hoisted the tricolour in defiance but made no other response, watching through his telescope as the enemy ship crossed his wake. She was at about three cables’ distance and sharply distinct in the afternoon sun. Carignan could see the blue uniforms on her quarterdeck, the scarlet and white of her marines, the glitter of their bayonets. There came downwind the beat of the drum and the faintly heard words of command. There was no other sound and all the seamen visible were standing rigidly to their guns. As soon as she had passed the merchantman’s stern, the corvette put up her helm and came almost into the Bonne Citoyenne’s wake. Assuming her to be faster and better manned, the corvette (or sloop, as the English would call her) should be alongside in twenty minutes and Carignan would have to fight her off for the time it might take to cover ten miles. He pointed this out to his first mate and added: “We have a very good chance.”
“Yes, Captain,” said the mate. “She mounts fewer guns than we do. But why didn’t she fire her broadside as she passed?”
The enemy corvette was well-disciplined and well-handled but she seemed to be one of the slowest ships in her class. She gained little on her prey, her captain resorting to his two bow-chasers in the hope of crippling his opponent. The British shooting was indifferent, however, and the range began to lengthen. The Bonne Citoyenne came into La Gravelle undamaged and the pursuing corvette turned away, baffled. The French crew cheered as they made fast to the breakwater and Carignan congratulated himself on his victory over an enemy frigate.
“A frigate, Captain?” asked the second mate.
“Of the smallest class,” Carignan admitted, privately resolving to word his report rather differently.
“And the slowest,” added the mate with a puzzled expression. He would have been less puzzled, in one way, had he known that the Nemesis had been towing an old sail astern. He would have been more puzzled in another way, however, had he known this, for such a strange piece of seamanship might be regarded as a proof of lunacy. Nor need we wonder that the long-suffering crew of the Nemesis had come to the same conclusion, that their captain must be out of his mind. Weeks of training had been followed by the capture of an almost worthless prize. Then there had been all this fuss over uniforms and paintwork. And now, having waylaid a valuable merchantman, he had fired a few shots and broken off the engagement. Le Vallois was irritated although secretly glad to avoid battle. Rouget was furious, Hubert was puzzled, young Duquemin almost openly relieved. When Le Vallois knocked at the cabin door it was with a gloomy satisfaction that he announced the coming aft of a group of seamen who wished to make a complaint. “Send them in,” said Delancey, and the first lieutenant ushered in a group consisting of Le Breton, Puteaux, Cluett, Tardif and Wetherall. “Well?” asked Delancey and Wetherall spoke up on behalf of the others:
“You’ll recollect, sir, that we proved ourselves to be the best guncrew on board this here ship?”
“Yes, I know.”
“But the crew you put on the bow-chaser were the worst we have, the crew which never came near the target.”
“I am aware of that. Good practice for them.”
“But we reckon, sir, that we could have crippled that frog ship and brought her to close action.”
“I daresay you might have done. But that was not what I wanted.”
“Well, sir, we felt disgraced.”
“Forget it. Before many hours have passed you will have reason to feel proud. For that I give you my word. And when I want to hit the target I shall know which gun-crew to put on the bow-chaser. You may not believe it but I know what I am doing.”
When the deputation had withdrawn old Le Vallois made his formal protest:
“I feel bound to tell you, sir, that the men are discouraged. They can’t understand your tactics, sir, and nor do I.”
“You soon will, Mr Le Vallois. Bring the other officers in—yes, with Carré as well. Leave Mr Duquemin in charge of the deck.”
Delancey walked to the stern windows and saw the French coast disappearing as the light failed. The Nemesis was just north of Sark, heading slowly north-westwards under topsails and jib. There was a knock at the door and his four officers entered, all looking more or less resentful.
“Pray be seated, gentlemen,” said Delancey, setting them the example. “I want you to picture, if you will, the evening’s events in the little port of La Gravelle. The Bonne Citoyenne came in on the flood tide, just beginning, and tied up alongside. Her captain is pleased with himself. He was headed away from Cherbourg by a British sloop of twenty guns but he held her off and reached port, saved by the bad seamanship or cowardice—or both—of the British captain. What does he do now? Mr Le Vallois?”
“He stays where he is for the time being.”
“Just so, and then? Mr Rouget?”
“Very true. So he does! And then? Mr Hubert?”
“He goes to the local tavern and tells the company about his victory over the Royal Navy. They all shout ‘Liberty, Equality, Fraternity!’“
“I think you are right, Mr Hubert. But he has to do something else first. Mr Carré?” There was silence and Delancey had to answer his own question: “He sends a messenger overland to the senior naval officer at Cherbourg, asking for a cruiser to meet him tomorrow off Cap de la Hague. The messenger rode off an hour ago and will be there three hours hence. He will have to ride sixteen miles or so but not in vain. The corvette will sail at first light.”
“How do we know that?” asked Hubert.
“Because the Bonne Citoyenne is bringing the wine; and she won’t quit La Gravelle until sure of her escort. That confounded sloop may still be around, lurking perhaps beyond Alderney. So she won’t sail tonight—as she could—on the ebb. She’ll be there, it has been decided, until morning. That is her captain’s intention, gentlemen. But one fact has escaped his notice—the fact that we shall capture his ship tonight.” There was a gasp of astonishment and all the officers tried to speak at once:
“What—go into a French harbour?”
“But how, sir?”
“God—it’s impossible!”
“Surely this is madness?”
Delancey listened blandly to these exclamations and continued, after a pause: “It so happens, gentlemen, that I have visited the harbour before. My plan presents no particular difficulty but depends for its success on surprise.”
“Do you mean, sir, that the Nemesis is to sail into the harbour at La Gravelle?” Le Vallois’ voice was quivering with indignation.
“Certainly not, Mr Le Vallois. We shall go in with the boats.”
“What—all of us?”
“No, you will remain on board, and so will Mr Carré. Mr Rouget will take the longboat, Mr Hubert the launch and Mr Duquemin will come with me in the gig. We’ll go over the details later and issue the arms. In the meanwhile—about ship! It’s your watch, I think, Mr Rouget? Set a course for La Gravelle. Mr Carré, uncover the boats and remember that we must muffle the oars. Mr Le Vallois, I’ll show you the chart. . . .”
By driving his men into a state of bustling preparation Delancey prevented any discussion over his actual plan. He knew, however, that the seamen had reached a sense of frustration during the afternoon’s skirmish (as voiced by the deputation) and that talk of action would be to that extent welcome.
There were some feelings of opposition, however, and Le Vallois gave them full expression:
“I should be failing in my duty, sir, if I made no protest about this night attack on La Gravelle. The owners, I am confident, would never countenance so hazardous a venture. I submit that we missed our chance of capturing this ship in daylight. What you now propose is far less likely to succeed.”
“Is that all you have to say, Mr Le Vallois?”
“Yes, sir. With respect, sir.”
“Very well, then. I have three observations to make. First I shall comment upon the word ‘propose.’ I have proposed nothing. Instead I have given you my orders and I expect them to be obeyed to the letter. Second, the chance we missed today was of an action between two ships of almost equal force; an action which would have left them both crippled, whereas our opponent tonight will be surprised, with half his men ashore. Third, I interpret your protest as a sign of cowardice.”
“Sir!”
“I repeat—cowardice!” Delancey moved round the cabin table, took Le Vallois by the neckcloth and shook him.
“And if you deny that you are a coward, fetch your sword and come on deck—now. I’ll cut you to pieces and feed those fragments to the mackerel.”
“I apologize, Captain,” gibbered Le Vallois. “I swear to obey orders.” Delancey flung him back against the cabin door and finished the interview by saying, with quiet intensity:
“You’ll be dead before morning if you don’t . . . Get out!”
Alone for a minute, Delancey had a moment of almost physical nausea. He had thought himself a gentleman, a man of culture, an artist, and here he was behaving like a mad buccaneer of the last century. What else, however, could he do? Le Vallois must be made to fear his captain more than he feared the enemy, and that fear must be transmitted to the other cowards on board. He strode to the door and shouted: “Pass the word for Mr Rouget!”
That officer appeared at the double, looking thoroughly alarmed.
“I have to acquaint you, Mr Rouget, with a slight change of plan. Mr Duquemin will go with Mr Hubert and Mr Le Vallois will come with me in the gig.”
“Aye, aye, sir. But who will you leave in command of the ship?”
“Old Maindonal.”
“The carpenter, sir?”
“Yes,” said Delancey briefly. “Tell the others and send Maindonal in to see me.”
The essence of Delancey’s plan was to come into the harbour at high water just as the tide began to ebb. He had been into La Gravelle before—it seemed a lifetime ago—but the navigational problem on that occasion had been simpler. He had then merely to bring the Royalist away. This time he had to handle a captured merchantman as well, relying on the ebb tide. But the time of high water could vary from day to day by as much as fifteen minutes. . . . He was too absorbed in calculations to think of the risks involved but the chances of failure were, he thought, minimal. As all depended upon surprise, however, he had decided to drop the anchor well out of earshot and sail in with the anchor off the ground, ready to catch when the water shoaled. This would complicate the steering but the wind, luckily, was steady in strength and direction. When the anchor caught, the Nemesis was very near the position as planned. The boats, towed in, were quickly manned and armed, leaving the carpenter on board with a crew of nineteen. It was a starlit night with a crescent moon, light enough to see the breakwater. The three boats were initially roped together, the gig leading, and were not cast off until the harbour mouth was reached. Then the longboat went in, followed by the launch, and were almost alongside the Bonne Citoyenne before they were challenged. Even then a reply from Rouget in French gained another three minutes. The merchantman was taken, in fact, with surprisingly little opposition or noise. As for Delancey, he took the gig into the steps and left her there with a boy in charge. Le Vallois with one seaman went along the quay to a point opposite the French ship’s bows, Delancey with another man went to a point opposite her stern. Two ropes were cast off from two bollards and the Bonne Citoyenne began to drift away with the ebb. Delancey and Le Vallois walked back to the gig and had pushed off before the alarm was fairly given.
Following a distant bugle call there came the sound of running footsteps. A young petty officer appeared on the jetty, saw what was happening and shouted for help. He was presently joined by two men with muskets who fired at the Bonne Citoyenne’s present helmsman but evidently without result. There next appeared an officer who swore loudly and told the men with muskets to aim at the gig. As they did so, missing again, the petty officer ran off to tell someone more senior. The eventual result was the tramp of a whole platoon and a volley fired seaward without any very defined target. There followed another bugle call and a lot of scattered firing and shooting but without control enough to achieve anything. By the time the soldiers had arrived the Bonne Citoyenne was under sail and out of range.
When the Nemesis stood into the Russel next day with her prize astern she still had the appearance of a king’s ship, no less formidable than H.M. Sloop Albatross which was hove to in the roads. Delancey knew that the Albatross was based on Jersey and wondered, idly, why she was neither at anchor nor under way. Nearing St Peter Port, he suddenly saw the point of her manoeuvre. Her longboat had been lowered and was just overtaking a lugger which was steering for the harbour mouth. Delancey then realized that the lugger was the Dove and that her crew were just about to be impressed into the navy. Making a quick d
ecision, he took the Nemesis into a point within hail of the Dove and between her and the Albatross. Backing his own topsails, he saw the lugger’s sails come down and her crew being collected on deck. Near her wheel Sam Carter was arguing with the midshipman, whose armed boat’s crew were already on board. Impressive in uniform, Delancey grabbed his speaking trumpet and hailed the Dove.
“Hawke to Albatross. Leave that lugger alone and return to your ship!”
The agitated midshipman looked in his direction and called back: “I am only obeying orders, sir!”
“Can’t hear you, bring your boat alongside.”
After some hesitation, the midshipman obeyed but had sense enough to leave his coxswain and six men in the Dove. His slowness over this gave time for Delancey to fetch his cocked hat and sword and pass an order to Hubert. He did not order the midshipman aboard but shouted down at him from the quarterdeck:
“That lugger is on a secret mission and her crew are not to be impressed. Leave her alone and return to your ship.”
“I have my captain’s orders, sir.”
“I am senior to your captain and you now have my orders.”
“I don’t know who you are, sir.” The quiver in the boy’s voice showed that he was on the verge of tears.
“You’ll soon find out, young man!” At this moment Hubert reported to Delancey, he too in uniform, backed with five of his men equally in scarlet.
“Mr Hubert, I shall want you to take a platoon of marines on board that lugger. Now, youngster, you have five minutes to get your men back into their boat. Or do you want to have them thrown out at bayonet point? Be off with you, sir, or you’ll feel the cane on your backside.” The miserable boy finally did as he was told and Delancey watched the longboat make its crestfallen return to the Albatross, which presently made sail for Jersey. The Nemesis and Dove had drifted closer together and Sam Carter was able to express his thanks without straining his voice.
Devil to Pay Page 17