Daphne realized that she seemed to be much higher from the ground sitting on Dark Paul that when she had ridden side-saddle in the past. And he was certainly a lot less placid than her other horses. But she wouldn’t back down now.
She set off at a sedate pace, with Dark Paul well under control though he occasionally tossed his head, seemly impatient at not being allowed to run. She moved up to a trot, only to remember recall that trotting was much more difficult and uncomfortable when she couldn’t post in the way she had become accustomed to while ridding astride. So she turned the horse into a field and moved up to a canter. There was a small ridge of gorse ahead and Daphne decided to see how it would be if she tried to jump Dark Paul. She turned him toward the barrier and gave him his head. He took the jump without difficulty or pause. Daphne found the jump hugely exciting, though she resolved that if she rode this way again, she would wear a quilted petticoat under her skirt, maybe two. She already envisioned herself joining the hunt in a scarlet, swallow tailed coat and a buff skirt. She was slim enough that the extra padding would not make her look too unfashionably rounded.
This riding and jumping was not too difficult and she was having great fun. She guided Dark Paul onto a slightly more challenging jump and again he sailed across with his rider feeling increasingly confident as she maintained her seat without difficulty. A third jump, more challenging yet was also negotiated without problem. Daphne now was fully confident of her ability. This would show that arrogant Major! She would do one more jump before heading back to Dipton Manor. To her left, down a gentle slope there was a low hedge with the ground rising behind it. That would be ideal.
Daphne turned Dark Paul towards the point where she had decided to jump the hedge and set him in motion. He loved to run and in moments they were rushing towards the hedge. He would have no trouble jumping the obstacle. The motion set her heart racing. This was magnificent!
Dark Paul soared over the hedge with no hesitation. On the other side the ground was soft with clumps of gorse and juniper. Dark Paul’s sudden arrival set off a grouse, which had been straight in front of him. The bird rose in a thrashing of wings seeming to head straight towards them. Dark Paul swerved abruptly to his right still going full speed. Daphne slid right off the saddle. She landed on her backside in some marshy land. She rolled, banging her elbow and somehow twisting her ankle. In trying to rise, she slipped and when she again was able to rise at last she could feel a large smear of mud on her cheek. Surveying the situation, she saw that her hat was lying in a puddle, and her gloves were soaked. Her right knee hurt and when she examined it she found that her skirts and petticoats had not prevented her skinning it. She presumed that Dark Paul would have taken off when he had been startled, but instead he was grazing a hundred feet off, obviously waiting patiently for his mistress to think of something else ridiculous to do.
Daphne started towards him. Her ankle could bear her weight and indeed seemed to improve with each step. When she had reached the horse, she realized that she had no chance of mounting him. She would have had difficulty with a regular saddle with stirrups, for they would probably be too high for her to mount without a mounting block. Of course there was no block where she was and no one to help her up, and of course, this was a side-saddle which presumed that the rider would be assisted in mounting.
Across the field she saw a tree stump near the edge of the wood. She led Dark Paul over to it, but it still was too low for her to mount the horse. Dipton Hall must be at least two miles distant, and she would just have to walk, leading the horse. Blast that Major for inciting her into doing something so stupid!
At the end of the field, they came upon a four-bared gate. After going through the gate, Daphne maneuvered the horse so that he was standing parallel to it, leaving a small gap between the horse and the barrier. Despite being hampered by her skirts – why, oh, why had she not worn her usual riding clothes which were split down the middle? – she managed to climb to the top of the gate. She was then able to slide on her tummy onto Dark Paul’s back. She was lucky that he was not as skittish as she might have expected at this treatment; he didn’t try to throw her off. She was able to roll onto the saddle and set Dark Paul walking in the right direction.
Her track back to Dipton Hall ran right through the village. She succeeded in getting past the vicarage and the church without being seen. She was almost at the turn into the drive to Dipton Hall when who should step out of his front gate and turn towards her than Mr. Jackson, the apothecary and Daphne’s long-time friend.
“Daphne Moorhouse, or should I say Lady Giles, what have you been up to? You look an awful sight. Let me help you down. Come into my house.”
“I was thrown by Dark Paul.”
“Riding a fine hunter side-saddle. Do you have no sense?”
“I had to do it. Major Stoner suggested that it couldn’t be done and I wanted to see if he was right.”
“Let’s get you cleaned up, and warmed up with a good cup of tea.”
Mr. Jackson escorted Daphne into his house and through the front part to the kitchen. His cook rallied around clucking over the state of Daphne’s dress and face. She did what she could to clean up Daphne’s face and hair and soon had a steaming mug of tea in front of her together with some fresh scones. Mr. Jackson himself insisted in examining Daphne’s knee and ankle. The latter was a bit swollen, but Mr. Jackson’s careful fingers could find no sign of more serious damage. He cleaned her knee, rubbed some sort of salve on it and bandaged it. All the while he was muttering about Daphne’s stupidity, even as she related in more detail what had inspired her to such foolishness.
There wasn’t much Mr. Jackson and his cook could do about Daphne’s clothes and hair. He helped her onto her horse, and, before she set off, he said, “I hope you have learned from this escapade that elegant ladies and riding to hounds do not go together.”
That wish rekindled all of Daphne’s annoyance with Major Stoner. “I most certainly am going to ride in the next hunt,” she declared, “and on Dark Paul.”
“You’ll break your silly neck, Daphne,” retorted Mr. Jackson, “and that is one ailment I cannot fix.”
Daphne had hoped to escape to her room without being seen by Lady Marianne or her daughters when she reached Dipton Hall. That was not to be. Just as she reached the landing on her way to her room, Lady Marianne and her daughters appeared at the top of the stairs. They pretended not to notice Daphne’s disheveled state, but before she reached the top of the stairs, Daphne heard the unmistakable twitter of giggles coming from the two young ladies. Blast that Major and his vulgar ways! And blast her sister-in-law who no doubt would be feeling seriously superior! Why she was nothing but the widow of an army captain in a nondescript regiment. He had probably been as uncouth as the Major. Undoubtedly, Lady Marianne would think that Major Stoner’s remarks were not offensive. They were made for each other!
Daphne’s muttering stopped abruptly at that thought. Maybe the two were made for each other. He was rich and undoubtedly ill-born. She was penniless though well-born and might be used to men with rough edges. Maybe, just maybe, that might be the solution to her problem.
Elsie insisted that Daphne have a good, hot bath and have her hair washed, even though Daphne protested that she had had one just two days previously. When she had her mistress in the tub, Elsie made sure that all signs of Daphne’s adventure disappeared from sight. Her bruises couldn’t be fixed so quickly, but they would not be seen. Elsie thought that Daphne should go to bed immediately with dinner on a tray, but her mistress would hear none of it. She had a message sent to her father that she would have to postpone their dinner and warned Steves to delay dinner a bit. She insisted that Elsie arrange her hair, even though it was still damp, into an elegant coiffure and pick out her favorite dinner gown.
Daphne sailed into the drawing room before dinner looking stunning, not in any way the worse for her afternoon experiences. As she told it, she had been so enthralled by Major Stoner’s account of
the role of women in the hunt that she had had to see how Dark Paul would serve as her mount. Major Stoner was such a nice man, very knowledgeable about the hunt and women’s place in it, very helpful, indeed. Did Lady Marianne and her daughters know that he had served in India? It was said that he had done very, very well for himself before returning to England. Maybe a bit of a diamond in the rough, but such a nice man! Daphne had never seen it, but she understood that he had one of the best houses near Ameschester. But she digressed. Dark Paul had been startled by a grouse and shied away, and Daphne had to confess that she was thinking more about what the Major had said about the hunt than about riding and had slipped off. She would be more alert in future.
This account of Daphne’s adventures occupied fully the time until dinner, and the hunt filled the conversation at the table for several dishes. Lady Marianne was sure that she remembered ladies only riding with the hunt until the view-halloo when the gentlemen went pounding away leaving the women to follow at a more leisurely pace. Of course, the ladies would not want to be in at the kill, though it sometimes happened since foxes were notorious for their ability to turn back and cross their own tracks and thoroughly puzzle the dogs and so those who had held back might end up at the finish.
Lady Marianne saw no reason why she and her daughters should not join the hunt on their own horses – Daphne uncharitably recalled that they were actually Captain Giles’s horses that he was letting them use, though she said nothing to set them straight on the ownership of their mounts. Maybe, continued Lady Marianne, they would encounter the Major there. She realized that it was, of course, not possible for Daphne to invite the Major to dine at Dipton Hall without becoming better acquainted with him. Maybe the next hunt or so would provide the needed better acquaintance.
After dinner, Daphne settled down to write her nightly letter to Giles. It would be a long one, for she needed to inform him about the requests of the Ameschester Hunt, and she wanted to tell him about her other visitors. The account of her afternoon ride on Dark Paul was made even more a credit to her as well as being more amusing than the one she told her in-laws. In this version, it sounded as if she had slipped off Dark Paul intentionally when he was startled, and the difficulties had arisen only when she tried to mount him again. She did boast of being able to jump him and how exhilarating she had found it.
Chapter VII
Giles was again standing before Admiral Gardiner aboard Penelope. The Admiral looked up from the note which the Warden had sent with Giles. “The Warden commends you for your initiative. He also wants me to send him Captain Hoxley and to keep Bountiful with me rather than send her into Chatham. I am not sure that the authority of the Warden of the Cinque Ports extends that far, but I think it wise to stay on his good side. I was intending to buy Bountiful into the Navy in any case. Incidentally, my carpenter says your people did a very good job of repairing her, and she doesn’t need to go into dry dock immediately.
“Now to business. As you may know, the French are building boats for their invasion. All along the coast from the Texel to Cherbourg. All sorts of craft. To carry infantry, cavalry, supplies, even gun boats. They are trying to gather them together in ports close to the Straight of Dover. Mainly Boulogne, we believe, but also possibly Calais and Dieppe and St. Valery. None of them is a particularly good place to gather large numbers of craft. Boulogne may be the best, since it is safest from storms, but it has a very narrow entrance. The French could not get all their craft to sea at all quickly. Bonaparte has massed some divisions behind, Boulogne, we know. Indeed an army. But in general, our knowledge of what he is planning is not good. Maybe your discoveries will help change that.
“I am trying to disrupt their activities, especially their making the passages from the more eastern ports, where the Dutch are building these craft for Bonaparte, to the French ports from which the invasion would be launched. It is not easy. The coast is shallow, and there are many sandbanks off shore. Those banks are shifting with storms and tides, and there are often deeper passages close to shore along which the boats can move without its being easy for us to get at them. There are also many batteries of guns along the coast to which their craft can scuttle to seek safety from us. Some of the batteries are well established permanent structures; others just consist of field artillery. Your master can consult our charts as to the latest information about where the fortifications are and, of course, other matters concerning the latest news on the hazards on that coast.
“We mainly use smaller ships – sloops, brigs and so on -- to harass the movements of the landing craft, but recently the French have sometimes sent frigates to guard them, so now we will be using frigates as well. You and Perseus will be used in that way. There are two things I want you to do. You are to disrupt the enemy’s moving their craft along the coast. Also, you are to try to capture some of each type. Unfortunately, they are of no value to us nor as prizes, but we need to know what the French are building. Some of the ones we have captured in the past were hardly sea-worthy. We are particularly interested in their gun boats – small cockleshells of crafts with heavy guns, apparently to be fired at land establishments behind their landing beaches. Bonaparte was, after all, an artillery officer.
“Those gun boats seem to be particularly important to some of the people in charge of our defenses. Don’t know why. They have gone so far as to send an official of the Ordnance board to evaluate the guns and the gunships if you can capture any of them. If you cannot, he is to evaluate them from a distance. Foolishness, I think. My officers are perfectly capable of sizing them up. But, be that as it may, you are to take the official and try to accommodate his desires, though, of course, without putting Impetuous in any danger. He is a man called Hughes. I believe you have met him.”
“Yes, sir. He has been very helpful.”
“Amazing. The Ordnance Board should be under the admiralty and not a separate bunch of trouble makers.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You will have Swan both to further harass the French and Dutch, but mainly to convey to me any sightings of major warships who may slip out of the Texel or be coming from elsewhere. Can’t trust the Russians or the Prussians not to ally themselves with the French.
“Well, that’s it. Good luck. And, Captain Giles, I will not tolerate my ships, who are watching the coast, leaving their stations to chase after prizes. You will only take prizes that fall into your lap, so to speak, without your leaving the coast.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
The task set to Impetuous was both boring and hazardous. The hazard came from the shallow and shifting nature of the off-shore sand bars, which had claimed many a vessel that had gone aground on them, and the need to stay close to shore even though fog banks were all too frequent. Often, indeed, Impetuous had to anchor and wait for the fog to dissipate. Giles could often see convoys of small vessels creeping along beyond the sand bars or in shallower water that prevented his ship from coming close to shore. At places where Impetuous might get at the landing craft, shore batteries made it impossible. The convoys were typically guarded at best by small sloops of war. Winds were light and variable. At the end of one long tack, Impetuous came up with Perseus and Giles found out that Captain Bush had had no more success in capturing the invasion craft or even in disrupting their progress to the invasion ports. He decided that it was time to change his tactics for carrying out his mission of capturing the vessels.
Near dusk, just as the fog bank was forming again, Impetuous crept towards the coast sounding* continually until she reached a depth that would ensure at least one fathom beneath their keel at low water. At that point she dropped her anchor. At low tide that night there should still be six inches of water over the concealed sand bank. Before the fog had obscured the coast, Giles had seen several landing craft creeping along close to the coast. He would try to surprise them and capture a few to satisfy the Admiral’s curiosity.
Giles ordered each of Impetuous’s boats to be filled with a mixture of marines an
d seamen. The seamen were armed with cutlasses and pistols and also with belaying pins*, which Giles suspected might come in handy. The sailors would also have their knives. He himself would go on the expedition, together with Lieutenants Kirkpatrick, Miller, and Macauley, as well as the midshipmen. The fog was so thick that Giles could hardly make out the bow of his barge from the stern. He ordered that the boats proceed in line ahead with each boat’s painter* being attached to the stern of the boat ahead. All oars were to be muffled and anyone making a noise would have his rum ration cancelled the next day.
They set off with Giles’s boat in the lead. He was navigating by his compass and had a knotted lead-line going in the bow with the depths whispered back to him. Ten minutes after leaving Impetuous, they startled a raft of ducks that took off with a noisy beating of wings. Giles proceeded on the same course until the lead line* suggested that they had crossed the main sand bank and were now definitely in the channel between the bank and the shore. At that point, he turned so that they were rowing with the current. They could hear some muffled voices coming from ahead of them. The sounds increased and they began to see a yellow glow looming ahead. They must be coming upon some craft where people were talking loudly in a gathering lit by lanterns. As they came near, Giles steered to larboard of the lights. Soon the whispered message was passed to the stern that there were boats ahead. Giles indicated that the rowing stop and as the boat behind them caught up, he instructed that its crew do the same and pass the word back as each following boat came up. The little flotilla drifted up to the enemy craft ahead, which turned out to be one of the landing craft that they were looking for. It was rafted up* on each side to another boat of the same type. The glow of the lanterns to starboard seemed to be a bit higher than the deck of the landing craft.
A Continuing War_At Home and at Sea, 1803-1804 Page 8