“I can do it by tomorrow, sir, if I can do it at all.”
On the following day Delancey had an interview with the Admiral alone. He was now able to explain his plan at length.
“Boulogne is the centre of the French invasion effort and that, to my mind, is the place we must attack. There are gunboats which form a defensive line in front of the river mouth and these are covered in turn by coastal batteries. The town itself, on the right bank, is a mile up the river with the new basin facing it on the left bank. Boats specially built to form part of the invasion flotilla are crowded into the basin. Requisitioned fishing boats are moored in the river higher up. At regular intervals the gunboats in the new basin are taken to sea as an exercise, heading north or south so as to remain covered by the batteries. Should there be any threat of attack some movement of these boats is certain; they would move to meet a threatened landing. The chief danger they must provide against is that their gunboats may be fired upon by their own shore batteries. They provide against this by distinctive flags in daylight, by distinctive lights after dark. These arrangements are frequently changed. We know from past experience that any frontal attack on Boulogne will meet with fierce resistance.”
“Agreed, Delancey. All this is generally known.”
“So my first conclusion, sir, is that an actual raid, with the landing of troops—were we contemplating such a raid—would take place at Wimereux, three miles further north. There is another basin there for landing craft but it is nearer the sea, the defences are weaker and the shoreline to the south is sand rather than rock. A feint attack on Wimereux would be credible and the noise would be heard in Boulogne. I should myself assume that a division of gunboats would emerge from Boulogne and sweep northwards to meet the apparent threat. All would have hoisted the appropriate recognition lights. Agreed, sir?”
“Yes, agreed.”
“When it becomes apparent that the raid on Wimereux has come to nothing—due, of course, to the skill and courage of the defending artillerymen—the division of gunboats will return to Boulogne.”
“No doubt.”
“The gunboats will be the same in number but we shall have intercepted the last one and added to the column another boat—a flat-bottomed craft now at Deal—and an ordinary French fishing boat, just such a craft as we have at anchor in Trinity Bay. Both will by then have hoisted the correct recognition lights. The flat-bottomed boat will enter the crowded basin, packed with explosives to be ignited by a half-hour fuse. The fishing boat will then take the boat’s crew on board and make for the harbour mouth, escaping in the panic caused by the explosion.”
“And you think that such an explosion will destroy much of the flotilla by fire?”
“No, sir, I don’t. The explosion vessel will have kegs of gunpowder underneath a top dressing of incendiary devices and hand grenades. It could do a great deal of damage but I doubt if many vessels would be actually destroyed. Its biggest effect would be on enemy morale. It would be, in effect, a slap in the face. If that can happen in their own fortified harbour, what might happen at sea? Our publicised account would be proportionately good for our own morale. It would look well in the newspapers.”
“I agree. I think, moreover, that your plan is a good one, with the possibility of doing much damage at a minimum risk. I shall need permission from Lord Keith and I shall need two bomb-vessels for the dummy attack on Wimereux. You will need French-speaking volunteers—all seamen from the Channel Islands that you can collect. Now, as to command, I shall direct the feint attack on Wimereux, you will direct the raid on Boulogne. Who is to lead the raiding group?”
“I planned to do that myself, sir, speaking French as I do, or at least Norman French, like a native.”
“Nonsense. You shall do nothing of the sort. The task is one for a lieutenant, not for a post-captain. He must be fluent in French, that I allow. He must be senior enough for promotion should he succeed. Within those limits, take your pick of what we have. Say nothing of this to anyone until I have the Commander-in-Chief’s permission. In the meanwhile I am grateful to you for putting forward an ingenious plan and one which might well succeed. I shall see to it that you have full credit for your part in the planning and execution. Supposing we succeed in the raid, how will the French react?”
“They will deny that any damage was done. They will report that we were driven off with heavy losses. Then, to restore morale, they will plan a raid on, say, Brighton, hoping to pick a day when the Prince of Wales is there.”
“That would please the Prince, anyway. He longs for active service but is forbidden by the King, who will not risk the life of the heir apparent. A battle at Brighton would suit him very well.”
“It would be worth a knighthood for somebody, sir.”
“Do you really think they would risk any such attempt, Delancey?”
”I don’t know, sir. It would be what I would do in their place. But Bonaparte and I may not always think alike. I should not, in his position, have formed the Army of England at all.”
Lord Keith’s permission arrived quite promptly. He was at the Nore and Knight’s messenger went by road from Deal to Sheerness, returning with his lordship’s approval and the promise of two bomb ketches on temporary loan, sailing immediately for the Downs. Informed of this, Delancey took Mather into his confidence and asked his advice. “We need someone to command the fishing vessel Pauline, someone to command the flat-bottomed boat, and a lieutenant to direct the raid. The lieutenant cannot be you.”
“Why not, sir?”
“Your French is not good enough, Mr Mather. I need a Channel Islander and the Admiral suggests that he should be fairly senior. The two junior officers must also be fluent, a necessity which rules out both Northmore and Topley. I also rule out our own lieutenants, Weatherall and Seddon—the one too fat, the other too stupid and neither able to speak any language but his own. Who else is there?”
“Well, sir, there is Le Couteur and the Jerseyman who manned the Pauline when she captured the peniche. They came from the Cynthia.”
“Yes, there is Le Couteur…. The trouble is that we are on the horns of a dilemma. To go straight into Boulogne harbour we need a man of exceptional resolution. He will know that his failure, should he fail, will not bring him to a prisoner-of-war camp but will place him before a firing-squad. Such an officer I could find and you might well be the man chosen. We need, on the other hand, a man who can pass himself off as a Frenchman. Such an officer I can find but does he have the other qualities needed—coolness, courage, seamanship, and determination?”
“I beg pardon, sir, but I should have said that you are the only man who could do it.”
“And I have been told that I mustn’t. What is your opinion of Le Couteur?”
“I know very little about him, sir. He captured that peniche quite neatly.”
“I know he did but he does not strike me as a man of more than average resolution. I shall consult with the other captains and ask their help.”
Many fruitless conversations followed, names being put forward, discussed, and rejected. In general, the good linguists were good at nothing else, known courage going with an appalling accent. They came back to Le Couteur in the end, with Northmore in the Pauline, accompanied by a midshipman called Renouf from Alderney to do the talking, and a master’s mate called Syvret from Guernsey to command the captured gunboat. Delancey was not satisfied with this leadership but he reported to the Rear-Admiral that these were the best men he could find. There followed a period of feverish preparation, the peniche being brought out of store and caulked and repainted, the Pauline being checked and repaired, the explosives being shipped, and the volunteers interviewed. Much trouble went into the making of clothes and uniforms which would pass as French. All thus disguised would have their British clothes at hand, ready to do a quick change if there should be risk of their being captured. Delancey doubted whether it would save them but knew that this was a precaution that had to be taken.
It was impossible to make these preparations without rumours being current on the quayside at Deal. Delancey therefore leaked the information that a raid was being planned on Wimereux—a story which had the merit of being partly true. That the rumour would reach France was fairly certain, and was desirable, indeed, as concentrating all last-minute defensive efforts on the wrong place. A great deal of technical expertise went into the loading of the peniche, the kegs of gunpowder being carefully packed with stones wedged between them and a tarpaulin lashed over all to keep them dry. Half-hour fuses were laid under the edges of the tarpaulin and each of these covered with its own tarpaulin flap picked out with a touch of white paint. On top of the tarpaulin were rows of hand grenades, half explosive and half incendiary, all held in position by rope grummets. Over the grenades went another tarpaulin, to be removed at the last moment, and the fuses for all these missiles were set for 32 minutes. The fuses were not really that accurate and the lighting of them was going to be a nerve-racking task for the men on board who were to tumble into a boat and be outside the inner basin before the vessel exploded. Could all this be done before the French became aware of it? That was a question which Delancey often asked himself. He knew too well that the plan could be foiled by a single brave man and a few buckets of water. As against that, the instinct of most men, seeing fuses alight (and not knowing whether they might not be set for five minutes) would be to run for cover. Once the explosion vessel was in the basin at Boulogne—and God knows whether that would prove possible!—the odds on its detonation were probably about even. Granted it went off, the French invasion attempt would not be delayed by as much as a day. It would be French morale that would suffer, and morale (Delancey told himself hopefully) is half the battle. In odd moments of depression he could see only the prospect of utter confusion and disaster.
The squadron sailed on the afternoon of 27 May 1804, the occasion marked by the Rear-Admiral’s recent promotion. Flying the white ensign instead of the blue, the frigates Antelope, Lizard, and Vengeance, followed by the sloops Cynthia, Plover, Gannet, and Heron, followed in turn by the bomb vessels Terror and Volcano, as also by the Pauline and the flat-bottomed boat now renamed Panic, made an impressive array, beginning well but somewhat tailing off. Course was laid for Wimereux but a prearranged signal at dusk led to Vengeance quitting the line, followed by Pauline and Panic, and heading for Boulogne. Delancey had Le Couteur, Northmore, Renouf, and Syvret with him in the Vengeance, using this opportunity for a final briefing.
“High tide will be at two in the morning,” Delancey explained, for perhaps the third time. “So the bombardment of Wimereux is timed for midnight, with two hours of the floodtide still to go. Fire from the sloops will make considerable noise but they will be out of effective range. We calculate, on the other hand, that some of the bombs from Terror and Volcano should reach the basin where the French landing craft are concentrated.”
“Will they do much damage?” asked Le Couteur.
“I shouldn’t think so,” replied Delancey. “There will be little moonlight at best, too little for any accurate direction of the mortars. The bombs that don’t miss the basin altogether will mostly fall in the water. The French may think, however, that we are planning to land—”
“What!” exclaimed Northmore. “With the whole confounded French army encamped on the beach?”
“That wouldn’t prevent a raid,” replied Delancey in mild tones. “It would merely throw doubt on the landing party’s chances of survival. However, there will be noise enough to bring a diversion of their gunboats out of Boulogne—anyway, that is what I am counting on. That is your moment to move in, Mr Le Couteur. What is your first task?”
“To observe the French recognition lights and hoist the same in Pauline and Panic.”
“Right. You have the lanterns and coloured glass. You are then to close with the French gunboats, placing yourself within sight but out of hail. By 2 A.M. the cannonade will cease and the squadron off Wimereux will have the Admiral’s signal to withdraw. With the cease-fire the gunboats out of Boulogne will return to base. Assuming that they do this in line ahead, as they will need to do for passing the harbour entrance, the Pauline will capture the last of them, the Panic instantly taking her place in the formation, followed a little afterwards by Pauline. The captured gunboat will stay with us, less her crew.”
“What shall we do with the French seamen, sir?”
“Send them ashore in the Pauline’s launch. We don’t want to be bothered with prisoners.”
“But won’t they give the alarm, sir?”
“Yes, they will but too late to serve any purpose. It will take them at least an hour to reach Boulogne on foot, and then they will have to explain themselves and wait in the outer office. It will be two hours before any senior officer is informed. Panic, meanwhile, will follow the other gunboat into the basin. Having lit the fuses, Mr Northmore, you and your men will escape by boat and join the Pauline. I shall cover the withdrawal of both craft from a position on the flank of the moored gunboats. I can go in no further on a falling tide. I have described the plan in some detail and I have drawn a diagram—here it is, on the table—from which you will see what we have to do. In actual practice, things are apt to go wrong in detail. If and when they do so, we must all remember the essential aim—to explode the Panic in the midst of the French gunboats, doing the maximum damage and creating the greatest confusion and alarm.”
“What I can’t understand, sir,” said Le Couteur, “is why we have to capture the French gunboat. Why not simply follow her in?”
“Because the number would be wrong,” replied Delancey patiently. “Fifteen gunboats put to sea—or twenty, or whatever the number is—and sixteen return to port. What will their signal stations make of that? What will their shore battery commanders conclude? A stray fishing boat they should accept, provided she is obviously French, but an extra gunboat—no, that won’t do. It does not matter if the last one should lag behind—she could have sprung a leak or broken an oar—but the total must be correct.”
“Are we to suppose, sir,” asked Northmore, “that the Panic explosion will do a great deal of damage?”
“No,” said Delancey. “My own estimate would be two gunboats destroyed, six or eight damaged, a hundred windows broken, and a thousand housewives given a terrible fright.”
“Is it worth the trouble, sir?” asked Le Couteur.
“No,” answered Delancey. “In terms of damage I should say not. Our plan is aimed at French morale. All this is to happen on their own doorstep, with a whole army as audience. If Boulogne is not safe, where can they feel secure? We shall leave them in no mood for battle, and our own morale will be correspondingly raised. You need not think that our efforts will be wasted.”
“I assume, sir,” said Le Couteur, “that I am to direct from the Pauline and that Mr Northmore will go ahead of me in the Panic. I take it that we shall be under easy sail?”
“That is correct. From the start of the bombardment, allow an hour for the gunboats to come out and move towards Wimereux. I should assume that they will be in line abreast. You must not be in the area ahead of them. When the bombardment ceases they will presently go about and head back to base, probably in line ahead. That will be when you move in. Make the success signal, Mr Le Couteur, when the target gunboat has been captured. I cannot offer you close support because the sight of the frigate would put the French on their guard. They might even guess that the Wimereux affair is a feint and that Boulogne is the place actually threatened. We could never succeed after that. Remember—we want that gunboat without a shot being fired. Once she is taken, Mr Syvret will bring her back to me while Mr Northmore and Mr Renouf will take her place with the Panic. Is that all clear?”
There were no further questions and the group dispersed, Le Couteur going to Pauline with Syvret, Northmore to Panic with Renouf. Delancey turned to Mather and asked him what odds he would offer.
“About even, sir, at best. We know too little about t
he officers, one of whom will need to have exceptional courage and resolution.”
“We know that Northmore is a good man. Of the others I liked best the eagerness of Renouf.”
“I agree, sir. That youngster was full of fight, to judge from his looks. But he has probably never been in battle and may change his tune when under fire. What will you do, sir, if the French gunboats remain in harbour?”
“I shall cancel the operation. I can order Le Couteur to follow the French back to base. I could never order anyone to go in alone. That is asking too much.”
Chapter Twelve
“PANIC”
VENGEANCE was still under easy sail at midnight when the bombardment of Wimereux began. The noise was impressive and the distant scene was lit by occasional flares. Delancey trained his night glass on Boulogne and watched for the expected reaction. Nothing happened for half an hour and then, after what seemed a lifetime, the French gunboats were glimpsed as they left harbour. There were only six of them, however, under sail but in no apparent haste.
“They are merely out to reconnoitre,” said Delancey to Mather, “but there are enough to serve our purpose. Signal Pauline and Panic to make more sail.”
When Pauline drew abreast of the frigate, Delancey hailed Le Couteur.
“Go in now but don’t close with the gunboats until they begin to withdraw. Good luck!”
The Pauline and Panic drew ahead and the noise of the bombardment intensified, probably because the bomb-vessels had opened fire. Flares were being used by both sides and it seemed that the Rear-Admiral was attacking with vigour. It could be assumed (or at least hoped) that the French gunboat commanders were looking towards Wimereux and would take no notice of Pauline, a stray fishing boat.
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