The King's Privateer

by Dewey Lambdin

  “So we should get Telesto back to Calcutta as soon as possible,” Captain Ayscough surmised. “After a year in Asian waters, and all that time idle in Whampoa Reach, we have to careen and bream her bottom. The weed on her quick-work looks like the Forest of Dean. Land our cargo, unload the artillery first, then refloat her and outfit her for battle.”

  “And be back here toward the end of May, to pick up Sir Hugo’s battalion and escort the Lady Charlotte transport to the Spratlys,” Twigg said bouyantly. “Sail into harbor, land troops and guns, and blow Choundas, his ship and any pirates clean off the face of God’s seas!”

  There was a lot of cheering that ringing speech. Cheers for a chance for action after festering at Bencoolen in sodden heat and agues, for final retribution against the hated French who had outmaneuvered them during the winter, for a chance that this whole affair would end and Telesto’s flexible term of commission could end snug in some English harbor by early 1786. They would be two years away from friends and family by then, two years gone from their homes, and did not relish the prospect of a third.

  Lewrie was not enthused, though. Troubling questions had their way with his imaginings. While he was most junior naval officer there, he knew he had to speak them aloud, before the conference ended. Later would look like croakum, and Twigg would not change his mind once they had settled on the plan, unless forced to, and afterthoughts would not be force enough.

  “Excuse me again, Mister Twigg,” he said, clearing his throat to draw silence enough in which to speak his piece, “but Choundas has had four months’ freedom to refit. He’s lost profits from this year’s work, but there’s no telling how much they earned the first two years. He could outfit another ship to work with him, hire a new crew to replace what he lost aboard La Malouine. And there’s nothing to prevent him from already being in the Spratly Islands. We didn’t peek in to see if anyone held the islands for his return, or if these Lanun Rovers were already there waiting for him. We have no idea what we’re to sail into, really, and he has all the time in the world.”

  “Because I did not want to alert anyone who might have been in those islands until we were in all respects ready to strike when the basket was full, so to speak, Mister Lewrie,” Twigg sneered in objection. “And, as I have just related, I have it on the very best authority that Choundas will sail to Pondichery first, waiting for Sicard to return and join him. That is his usual wont.”

  Twigg looked as if he’d enjoy picking up a “barker” and firing a pistol ball right through Lewrie’s heart. The durbar had been going so wonderfully well, and his plan had carried, when up popped Lewrie with his morale-eroding carping!

  “His usual style, sir,” Lewrie replied, smiling. “But things aren’t the usual this year. He has us to worry about. What the survivors of his crew remembered him doing in the past don’t signify. He could have looked into the Spratlys and left some men behind as a garrison this time. Hired hands to man Poisson D’Or with the hopes of meeting us on our way back to Calcutta, with La Malouine tailing us to make it two against one. He could be up in the Nicobars or the Straits of Malacca waiting for that this instant. Or rush back to the Spratlys ahead of last year’s schedule while we have to sail for Calcutta and back, to gain a march on us. Seems to me, sir, if we wait ’til June we either hit an empty bag, or walk right into a bloody fleet of pirates and wide-awake Frogs.”

  He turned to his father, who was scowling at his audacity to speak to authority like that. “As my dear father may tell you, sir, his troops would do us no good aboard their transport if Choundas is ready for us. His men would stand no chance at all.”

  “And what would you suggest, my lad?” Sir Hugo inquired, stifling any objections that Twigg was more than ready to raise.

  “That we hit the Spratlys now, sir,” Alan stated. “That we do not allow Choundas to form a combination against us, with pirates of another cartel ship. Or hire another French captain to side with him. We’re here, even against the nor’easterlies, two weeks’ sail away, with nearly a full battalion of troops trained for shore landings and equipped to fight. Land our cargo here in Bencoolen for the nonce if we have to. Even if you have to sail to Calcutta and back afterward, we would hold the island before Choundas even knows Sicard is lost.”

  “Oh, God,” Twigg sighed, shaking his head as though at the fire-eating impetuosity of youth. “Mister Lewrie, I thought better of you. If we do take the Spratlys, and Choundas arrives earlier, as you say, then he escapes before we’re ready to strike him, and God knows what secret lair he establishes next. I’ll not spend all this summer and all of ’86 chasing him ’round the Great South Seas! And if we do take two precious weeks to delay our refit in Calcutta, we lose any chance of pursuing him.”

  “The Spratlys are a healthier climate for my father’s men than Bencoolen, sir,” Alan rejoined. “And we would not have to depend solely upon Telesto for support. If you could dispatch another well-armed country ship to our aid, once we’re ashore …”

  “And where, pray, do we find funds enough to do that, sir?” Twigg fumed.

  “Why, from the profits of this year’s trading season, sir,” Lewrie responded. “That’s what they’re for, surely.”

  Twigg’s jaw dropped open for a brief moment at the suggestion. And before he could put a refuting argument into play, Sir Hugo stood up and cleared his throat, wandering to the map to peer at it.

  “Sounds like a good idea to me,” he announced. “Does it not to you as well, as the senior Navy man, Captain Ayscough? Does your sailing master think a battalion could find decent provender there for a period of some months? Would it be healthier for my men?”

  “If the place may swarm with pirates and Frogs, Sir Hugo, it’d support them decent enough,” Brainard allowed. “And you have salt-meat and such for rations here, and in the transport. You could hold out long enough for us to get to Calcutta and back with more. And there’s goats, pigs and fowl enough here in Bencoolen to take with you. As to the climate, it’s be not near as hot, and a lot drier. Sea breeze’d make it seem ten degrees cooler.”

  “And there is the possibility that this Choundas fellow’s pirates might already be there, could they not?” Sir Hugo speculated. “I don’t know much about ’em, but it seems to me it’d be better to fight them now, before they could ally with French artillery and trained gunners. A battalion of well-drilled troops’d make mincemeat of ’em once we’re ashore. Why wait until your foe is lined up and ready to fire, I say? My officers’ll agree with me; the way to defeat a larger foe is chew ’em up into penny packets first. Then boot hell out of the remainder. Knacker the buggers bit at a time.”

  “Gentlemen, we …” Twigg tried to object.

  “Lewrie’s right, I think,” Ayscough stuck in, enthused from his torpor. “As you are, Sir Hugo. Take them on in manageable portions, is the best way. Let’s also allow as how Mister Lewrie could be correct in thinking that there’s much too much booty for only one or two ships to carry. We might discover another Frog cartel ship such as La Malouine there. Hamstring the bastard even more.”

  “I might point out,” Twigg griped, “that it is nearly two thousand miles back to the Spratlys, sirs. Fifteen days’ sail against the prevailing northeasterlies at this season? Say three more to load the troops aboard the Lady Charlotte. Then nearly a month from there back to Calcutta. ’Tis the third week of March, now. First week of April would put us here, off the Spratlys. Then three weeks back to Calcutta would be the first of May. Not enough time to refit Telesto and clean her bottom, and make it back to the Spratlys before Choundas arrives. It simply cannot be done, sirs. But from here to Calcutta is only ten days! A week to unload cargo, lighten ship and careen her, a week to set her to rights again, and be back here to escort Lady Charlotte and the troops to our destination. By the end of May, sirs. By the first week of June, at worst. When Choundas most certainly shall be there, and may be confronted. And defeated.”

  “Then by all means sail to Calcutta direct from
here,” Sir Hugo said. “But let me take my battalion north now. The same argument obtains. We take the islands and the harbor, defeat what pirates we encounter, destroy or commandeer what works the French have built and await your return, snugly ashore and entrenched, as soldiers best understand, sir. And you don’t wait until your ship is ready to put to sea. Do what … do what my son suggested. Charter or purchase a fast, well-armed ship and crew to come reinforce us.”

  “There’ll not be half a dozen suitable vessels in the Hooghly to choose from, sir. The bulk of the country ships and East Indiamen will still be in Macao, or on passage still,” Twigg snarled.

  “The slow ones will, sir,” Lewrie stuck in. “But we don’t want anything to do with a slow ship. Like that Rebel privateer John Paul Jones said, ‘Give me a fast ship, for I intend to go in harm’s way,’ did he not?”

  “And what’s even harder to find in the East Indies than trained European soldiers, are trained European seamen and gunners,” Twigg said in reply.

  “I …” Captain Ayscough began, “that is, you and I, Mister Twigg, have writ from the Crown to commandeer or recruit as we will. The Lady Charlotte’s crew for one. The crews of the patrol cutters and small brigs here in Bencoolen. Why, they’d trample each other to get out of this pesthole and see some action! A fair amount of any merchantman’s crew have Navy experience. Who knows what loot there is to be found among those pirates? Enough lure of loot, anyway, to get any number of hands to sign aboard. It’s not like we were meant to show a profit out of our voyages. The earnings were to help support our work, not line our pockets, or end up surplus Droits of the Crown. And here’s another thought for you. If you gentlemen would join me here at this window, such as it is?”

  The assembly of infantry officers, Navy officers and civilian experts was drawn by Ayscough’s prompting away from the table and the maps, to gather by the window and stare out through the rains and the water guttering off the thatch and bamboo roof.

  “I conjure you to feast your eyes on the transport yonder, the Lady Charlotte,” Ayscough directed. “For the benefit of you Army lads, she’s the shabby old bitch on the left, not the splendid ‘Bristol Fashion’ lady on the right, ha ha!”

  Lady Charlotte was indeed shabby, an old, neglected dray-horse of a ship, of about eight hundred tons burthen. She mounted some six-pounder chase guns, and sixteen twelve-pounder great guns on her upper deck, but had the gunports of a better-armed ship.

  “My bosun may give up what paint we have,” Ayscough told them merrily. “And he will, if he knows what’s good for him! Lady Charlotte may be transformed into the very image of the stoutest fifty-gunned two decker as ever swum! A proper ocean bulldog!”

  “Or, sir,” Choate snickered, “she could end up looking remarkably like La Malouine.”

  “Why, bless my soul, you nacky young bastard!” Ayscough said with a booming laugh, the first anyone had heard him utter in months. “I do believe you’ve been conniving with Mister Lewrie. Yes, with a lateen yard on her mizzen for a spanker, ’stead of yon gaff and boom, she could be laying at anchor in the Spratlys, waiting for Choundas to return.”

  “Imagine the consternation he would feel, to expect her lost, and there she is, big as life, sir,” Lewrie chortled. “He’d have to sail into harbor to speak her. Close enough for us to hull him with artillery. He might sail right into a trap. Oil or varnish to darken her upper works and she’d resemble La Malouine well enough.”

  “He’d never fall for it,” Twigg carped.

  “One never knows, sir,” Ayscough sniffed. “He might. He just might. And, if Telesto and the second vessel Lewrie suggested that we hire were to be lurking off-shore, somewhere to the north … yes, to the north would be best, I believe … a shore party could send a signal to alert us as to the best moment to fall upon the harbor.”

  “I most strenuously object to this … dribbling of our assets into … into”—Twigg spluttered—“penny-packets! As Crown representative, Captain Ayscough … damme, sir, any delay in getting to Calcutta, and there will be no second ship dispatched from there to succor Colonel Willoughby’s troops. And there will be the transport, in harbor and defenseless. Her loss would destroy any hope of pursuing Choundas, should he not fall for your ruse in disguising her. And strand our troops on this island a thousand miles from nowhere.”

  “She could be escorted north by one of the patrol vessels here in the harbor already, sir,” Ayscough allowed, turning to peer out the open window once more. “There’s a ketch-rigged ship out there that’s suit. See her yonder? And if not her, perhaps the brig lying farther out. That might be best, after all. In addition to whatever vessel we may send out from Calcutta before Telesto is ready to rejoin our endeavor.”

  “Little better than fishing smacks and packets,” Twigg scoffed.

  “Some fresh paint, the proper flag flying, and at a distance who may deny they are not well-manned warships?” Ayscough shot back. He was in a fine and confident fettle now, and would not be gainsayed. “Were I a pirate, I’d not wish to fight one of them. One hard battle yardarm to yardarm would cause so much damage the raiding season would be over right there. That’s the risk a privateersman takes. I doubt if this Frog Choundas wants to fight a real battle against a flotilla, after all. Overpowering one weak merchantman at a time is more his style.”

  “Even more reason for him to turn tail and run for God knows where as soon as he spots strange ships in his harbor,” Twigg gloomed.

  “They might look like early captures,” Lewrie suggested. “If they were in harbor, sirs. Even more reason to enter and moor, to see what the booty amounts to so far.”

  “And should Choundas arrive early, enter harbor,” Twigg carped, “and not be utterly destroyed, then Telesto hits that empty bag you spoke of, with him days’ gone and free to plunder still!”

  “Come, Mister Twigg, you cannot have things both ways,” Captain Ayscough smirked. “Either he will arrive early, as Lewrie suspects, or he shall keep to his previous schedule, as you believe. Either way, sufficient force shall confront him.”

  Twigg opened his mouth to make further objections, but Ayscough raised a restraining hand and cut him off.

  “You, sir, have fulfilled your brief. You were charged with an investigation into the disappearance of so many of our merchantmen, of identifying which native pirates were responsible. And that you have done. You were further charged with the task of unmasking the French behind their activities. And that, too, you have accomplished. You have found their base of operations, when to expect their arrival to launch more depredations against English shipping and have raised a naval and military force to destroy them.”

  “Yes, but …”

  “But now, sir,” Ayscough hammered on, “the said destruction is a naval and military matter, the proper use of those forces allocated to you. And that use, Mister Twigg, is my bailiwick at sea, and it is Sir Hugo’s on the land. From here on out, sir, allow other batsmen to have their innings. Now, you may hold our coats.”

  And about bloody well time, too, Alan thought! Damn all civilian meddlers. Especially the ones that dreamt this horror up in the first place.

  “Are you familiar with the vessels in harbor, Sir Hugo?” The captain asked.

  “Hmm, I fear it’s my son who understands things nautical, Captain Ayscough,” Sir Hugo replied, chuckling. “The brig, I believe, though, is a Macao packet. I’ve heard tell the … what-you-called-it … a ketch? … is the local supply ship from Calcutta or Madras. I’ve met their owners.”

  “I shall wish to speak to them about hiring or selling us their ships, should they prove suitable,” Ayscough said decisively. “I believe that we have sufficient funds aboard Telesto at present to do so, and pay a guinea joining-bounty for every hand that signs into service. Do we not, Mister Twigg?”

  “Aye, sir, we do,” Twigg nodded, all fight blown out of him.

  Sir Hugo took Alan’s arm and steered him out to the verandah as the details were thrashed out. It
was a little cooler, but not much, out of the overcrowded rooms. They could hear Twigg, still insisting they sail for Calcutta as soon as the weather moderated.

  “Thank you for that back there, Alan.”

  “Oh, you’re welcome, sir.”

  “I’d have done just about anything to get my troops out of this malaria-ridden sink!” Sir Hugo said with some heat. “Do you always up and speak your mind like that? Can’t promise you an ambitious naval career if you keep that up. But for now, I’m grateful. And for what you said. About ‘your dear father.’”

  “Well, about that, sir …” Lewrie cringed. “It was the only way to get your support, you see. Get you to listen to what I had to say and back my play. I expected you wanted to get your arse out of Bencoolen, before you went under to some sickness, so what you want, and what I thought needed doing, could work together.”

  “Damn you, you little shit!” Sir Hugo stiffened. “Get mine own arse out of here? Do you think what I said about my men was so much moonshine?”

  “I’ve never known you to care very much about anyone. I don’t know what to believe,” Lewrie replied evenly.

  “By God, Alan, you may think me the biggest sinner you’ll ever meet, but you’ll not lay that on me!” his father growled. “Before I wasted seed enough to quicken your miserable life, I was a soldier! May not have been a great one. May not have been a glad one most of the time, but I was good enough. Think what you will of me, but by God above, this battalion is mine. I fought with it, marched with it, killed with it and bled with it. We’ve cracked lice together, eaten the same rotten food, swilled the same filthy water, and they look to me to do what’s right by ’em! And I will, no matter what you think. You may sneer at ’em. Sneering’s a thing I remember you’re quite good at. So they’re not a fashionable English regiment! Think they’re not good soldiers just because they’re Hindoos? Think it’s a come-down for me … all I can command is a tag-rag-and-bobtail pack of bare-arsed Bengalis? Well, let me tell you, even when they were at their worst, they’re the best troops I’ve ever seen, Goddamn your blood! And now they’ve been fleshed out and equipped proper, I could take them through the Brigade of Guards like suet through a goose. Something else I’m prepared to do, and they know it … I’m their colonel—I’ m ready to die with ’em, if it comes to that. Aye, you sneer all you bloody well want. Maybe you were born a bastard after all!”