“Forgive me for raising the question, sir,” said Mather, “but this raid would seem to justify the employment of a commissioned officer.”
“So indeed it would, Mr Mather, but it is the preliminary to a more important raid and I am not risking my lieutenants in the meanwhile. I have every confidence in Mr Northmore, who has seen a great deal of active service. Any other questions? No? Then be so good, Mr Mather, to see that the boats are properly manned and armed. That will be all, gentlemen.”
The frigate hove to in darkness about half a mile from Epineville. Delancey had decided not to anchor because of the noise that would be made by the cable. He kept under sail while the launch was manned and then gave Northmore the order to go in. With muffled rowlocks the launch pulled away and with no sign of alarm from the shore. With Mather, Delancey paced the deck, talking quietly about the problems Northmore would have to face.
“There are bound to be sentries on the beach, whose muskets will give the alarm. The French batteries will be manned in ten minutes but will have no target until somebody remembers to fire starshell. It remains to be seen what troops will counter-attack the beach but it is the more rash of these who may end as our prisoners.”
“May I ask you, sir, why the taking of prisoners should be of such moment?”
“It is chiefly their uniform clothing I want so that we can afterwards man the captured fishing boat with men who will pass as Frenchmen. The costumes must be exactly right. Infantry uniforms we shall need later on—specimens, merely, that we can imitate. If our efforts succeed we shall have, in the end, a French gunboat which will be exactly like any other save in the one respect that it will be on our side. Such a craft might be the origin of vast confusion and might even—who knows?—do some considerable damage.”
In the sternsheets of the launch Northmore was holding to a compass bearing, the scattered lights on shore affording him no clue to his target. His oarsmen rowed steadily, and no one spoke a word. After twenty minutes or so he could just make out the line of the breakers but the sea was calm and nothing could be heard. Then, at long last, he could make out the position of the fishing craft and altered course so as to head for the third from the left. As the launch neared her, he could see that she was moored, head on to the beach, by the bows and stern. There was nobody aboard her, seemingly, and no one near. So the launch was brought quietly alongside her and he as quietly climbed aboard. His difficulty was now to assess the value of the craft without seeing her in daylight. He had brought a lantern with him, however, and lit it when he was below decks. She was a common type of vessel with a central hold for the fish, a forecastle for the men, and two small cabins aft for the skipper and mate. She would probably measure about eighty tons. Her state of repair was good but she was plainly an old vessel and the smell was horrible. He extinguished the lantern, came on deck, and dropped quietly into the boat. Without a word he motioned the oarsmen to push off, steering the launch towards the next vessel, the fourth. She, too, was deserted and he was able to inspect her in the same way. She was rather bigger than the first and was not so old. He came to the conclusion that this was the better one and was only sorry that he could not inspect her rigging. Anyway, his choice had been made and it remained to see how to free her from her mooring. It could be done in one of two ways, but both were relatively noisy. To unbitt the cables would make a prolonged rumble. To cut the cables with an axe would be quicker but noisy enough to wake the dead. As against that, the alarm must be given at some stage if prisoners were to be taken. Making a quick decision he decided to leave six men, under Bailey, boatswain’s mate, to look after the fishing boat and make her ready for sea, while he led the remainder ashore; the shore party comprising six armed seamen and nine marines including the sergeant. Within a few minutes they were on the beach, still unchallenged and Northmore began a cautious approach to the village. Any sentries posted must have gone to sleep for the landing party met with no resistance of any kind. It was all very well to land with orders to take prisoners but how was this possible when no opponents presented themselves? That cannon were in position to defend the place was known, for they had themselves been engaged by them, but they were evidently sited on either side of the village or perhaps on rising ground behind it. There must surely, however, be some sort of headquarters or guardhouse in the village itself? There was and they fairly stumbled across it. Of the two sentries outside, one threw his musket down and put his hands up. The other did the same but fired his musket in the air first. The alarm had been given and a bugle sounded from some point farther inland. The time had come to withdraw.
With his two prisoners secured, their wrists tied together by spunyarn, Northmore marched his men back the way they had come. He could feel that, so far, all had gone according to plan. It could only be a matter of minutes, however, before the men from the guardhouse should be on their heels. It would mean a running battle back to the beach with darkness to cover their retreat. He quickened the step but resisted the impulse to run. While their entry to the village street had been in almost total darkness, lights were now coming on in the cottages, windows were being opened, and neighbours were calling to each other, asking what was amiss. Owing to all these glimmering lamps and candles, the street was becoming clearly visible and they themselves were no longer hidden by darkness. A skirmish in the village street was the last thing that Northmore wanted to bring about because his opponents would know the ground and he had only just begun to see it. He had reached a point where there was a white painted garden wall on his right faced by three or four shops on his left. At this moment he heard the sound of troops on the march, the noise of boots on shingle coming from some point ahead of him. He realised at once what the situation was. The French had no sentinels on the beach because they were relying on a system of patrols. A patrol had been out when the landing took place, probably at the far end of the beach. It was now returning and had heard a shot fired. It would fall back on the guardroom in the village where the other men, who had previously been on patrol, had been caught off their guard. He now had opponents both in front and rear. With a decision which did him credit, he gave out his orders: “Sergeant Blake, an enemy patrol is coming this way from the direction of the beach. Draw your men up in line, with the two prisoners in rear, and advance until you can see the enemy. Then fire a volley and attack with the bayonet. Fight your way back to the launch and be ready to cover the embarkation of my party. I intend to fight off the men who are following us. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir. Good luck, sir. Marines, form line by the right. Quick march!”
On the left a shopkeeper in his nightshirt, holding a lantern, had opened his front door, ready to protest against the noise other people were making.
“Follow me!” said Northmore to his seamen and made straight for the shop door. In a minute the shopkeeper had been bundled inside, bound hand and foot, and gagged. His lantern was left outside the door, faintly illuminating the street, and Northmore drew up his men inside the darkness of the shop, two opposite the door, three opposite the window, and one told to find an escape route by the back. “Watch your front,” said Northmore. “Take aim and be ready to fire.” The sailors were no marksmen but they had a position of advantage. They were facing a whitewashed wall. What light there was came from their side of the street and they were themselves invisible. Perhaps a minute passed before the approaching footsteps could be heard. Northmore drew his own pistol and levelled it. The tramp of army boots came nearer accompanied by a great deal of undisciplined chatter, punctuated by the leader’s voice calling for silence. Then the dark figures were silhouetted against the white background and Northmore called out “Fire,” his own pistol being aimed at the leader. Three of the enemy fell, the leader included, and the rest took to their heels.
“Re-load,” shouted Northmore. At that moment the seaman returned from the back of the house and reported, “I’ve broken down the back door, sir. It leads into a lane.”
“Thanks, Wil
lis. Give me your musket.” Stepping into the street, Northmore fired a shot in the enemy’s direction and then handed the weapon back. “Re-load, Willis,” he said, “and then follow us out at the back and along this lane to the right.” To the rest he said, “Follow me!” and resumed his withdrawal but now in the lane and no longer in the street. Over somewhere to his right he heard Sergeant Blake shout, “Fire!” and then “Advance!” The marines’ volley was answered by a volley from their opponents and then came the sounds of hand to hand fighting. All depended now, as Northmore realised, on the strength and resolution of the French patrol, which might, for all he knew, outnumber Blake’s men by three to one.
He quickened the pace and heard Willis somewhere behind him, running to catch up. Then he found what he was looking for, a gap between the cottages on his right, not a lane but a vegetable garden. Charging through the cabbages, he found himself in rear of the enemy, who had not given ground before the marines’ attack. As his men came level with him he gave the order “Half right, aim. Fire!” He then led his party in a loud cheer. “Hurrah! Come on! Charge!” There were only seven of them all told but their sudden appearance was too much for the French, who now fell back in disorder, leaving a number of killed and wounded. The marines followed in good order, less two casualties, and Northmore told his seamen to re-load. Then he headed again for the beach and was guided to the launch by the shouts of the man who had been left to guard it. He was nearly there when the French attacked again.
That the French should have returned to the attack did them great credit. By doing so, they turned Northmore’s reembarkation into a difficult rearguard action. Sending his seamen back to the launch, Northmore led the marines into action again with a further volley and another attack. Then they fell back towards the launch, firing as they went and suffering further casualties, two wounded and one killed. “Embark!” shouted Northmore finally and everyone ran for the boat, from which the marines continued their fire while seamen pulled for dear life. The enemy’s musketry was now sporadic as they lost sight of their target. Then the launch reached the captured fishing craft and Northmore, first aboard, gave orders for cutting the cables and making sail. A few minutes later the scene was lit by starshell and the shore batteries opened fire. Their aim was wildly inaccurate and no shot came anywhere near their vanishing target. Within half an hour Northmore was back on board the frigate, reporting his capture and his losses. “I have two prisoners and some French clothes removed from one of their shops.”
“Well done, Mr Northmore, I’ll hear your full report later. You may now take command of the vessel you have captured, for which I’ll allow you a crew of eight seamen under a petty officer of your choice. Take with you all you will need, not forgetting your navigational instruments and a chart. Make sail after the frigate and take station at a distance of two cables astern. We are on course for the Downs, where you will anchor the prize at the head of Trinity Bay. Mr Topley, take the launch alongside this other old craft and set fire to her, then return on board and resume your normal duties. Mr Mather, prepare to heave anchor and make sail. Our little operation is finished.”
Chapter Ten
INVASION PLANS
THE WINTER of 1803–4 might have been spent mostly ashore but Rear-Admiral Knight now thought proper to maintain a show of activity. Addington’s government was tottering under heavy attack and Lord St Vincent had to prove that its naval side was unmatched for vigilance. So Knight kept his squadron busy although with little to show for it. On the French side the sole activity was in slowly assembling the invasion fleet at Boulogne and the adjacent ports. Many of the landing craft were built at small harbours to the westward. When completed they were sent to Boulogne in batches of four or five, keeping close to the French coast and running for shelter whenever a British man-of-war appeared. Under the guns of the nearest battery they would wait until the coast was clear and then resume their voyage. On rare occasions they were caught too far from harbour and were driven ashore and wrecked. Something could be made of this in the Gazette but Delancey, for one, thought that these efforts were useless. He had been in favour of an active policy in summer but these efforts in winter involved too much wear and tear. Apart from that, he preferred to see the landing craft full of troops before he attacked them. All he wanted, in the meanwhile, was to capture a specimen gunboat for future use. The Rear-Admiral was sufficiently impressed by this idea to place two sloops, Cynthia and Plover, under his orders and allot him a cruising area between Cherbourg and Le Havre. Attached to this small force was the captured French fishing vessel Pauline manned by Lieutenant Le Couteur of Jersey with a partly Channel Islands crew, all clad as French fishermen. The hunting ground was the Baie de Seine, the stretch of coast where the landing craft would be tempted seawards, partly to shorten the distance from Barfleur to Le Havre and partly because that coast is particularly dangerous. Delancey thought that a capture might be made off the Plateau de Calvados. Assuming that the landing craft came from the coast of Brittany, they would round the Cap de la Hague and so eastwards. If pursued off the coast of Normandy they would make for Le Havre by going close inshore around Trouville. In that area an innocent-looking French fishing boat would snap up the last of them and the others would be too conscious of pursuit to turn back and attempt a rescue. They would all have crews for the passage only, signed on for the one voyage, not men craving for a place in naval history or national legend. The success of the operation must depend upon placing the fishing boat between the gunboats and their possible place of refuge. It was also essential that the capture should be made without damaging the prey.
Delancey’s plan was sound enough but it depended for its success upon the enemy doing what they ought to do. For weeks they failed to play the part assigned to them, there being no movement of landing craft at all. Then the traffic began again but the craft pursued made straight for the shore and beached themselves under cover of a shore battery before they could be captured. Delancey later moved his forces nearer to the Seine estuary and was finally rewarded by a useful capture near Trouville. A group of five landing craft were chased by his two sloops towards Le Havre and the last of them was snapped up by Pauline off Les Vaches Noires without a shot fired on either side. It was neatly done and Delancey recognised the vessel as a Peniche or large flat-bottomed rowing boat. He soon had her under a tarpaulin in the Naval Storeshed at Deal, not as a matter of preservation but in order to avoid reminding the French that there was such a craft in British hands. Delancey had only a vague idea of a plan for her use but he could at least imagine circumstances in which she might be the ace in the pack. With her he was able to store a small collection of French uniforms and seamen’s clothing, items which could be copied as necessary. Rear-Admiral Knight congratulated Delancey on his coup but was only mildly interested in its possibilities.
For Delancey the campaign of 1804 began with a conference held at Dover Castle on 3 April. It was presided over by Admiral Lord Keith, whom Delancey now saw for the first time. He was a rather handsome man aged 58 who had been in the Navy since 1767 but who had never been present in a general action. He it was who suppressed the naval mutiny at Sheerness, having had a generally distinguished career in many parts of the world. George Keith Elphinstone, ennobled in 1797, was a Scotsman of known ability to whom the naval defence of the English coasts had been largely, but not entirely, entrusted. He was chiefly famous in the service for having probably made more prize money than anyone else. His flag was in the Monarch but he had called this conference on shore so as to have the generals present, together with Rear-Admirals Montague, Thornborough, and Knight, Commodore Sir Sidney Smith and such of his captains as were available, Delancey being one of them. The castle courtyard was filled with horses and orderlies, junior officers and grooms. Outside the precincts, Dover itself was a scene of frantic activity, with large garrisons in the Castle and the Citadel and vast tented camps stretching inland as far as the eye could see. It was a fine spring day in early April
and the French coast was in full view and was obviously the scene of similar activity but with a more aggressive purpose. British agents had been active on the French side of the Channel and it was one of the first objects of the conference to acquaint all present with the French order of battle. The one civilian at the conference, introduced as Mr Xenophon, was clearly the master spy for the Calais-Boulogne area. Lord Keith opened the proceedings by addressing his senior military colleagues on the subject of co-operation between the services, never more important than it was going to be during the present year. If Bonaparte was going to invade England it would have to be between June and September. They would hear evidence that his preparations were well advanced. Against his designs our first lines of defence consisted in the men-of-war which constantly ranged the French coast. Our second line lay in the main fleets based on Portsmouth and Chatham. Our third line lay in the troops which defended our shores, our fourth in the armies which are concentrated at points further inland.
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