The Black Moon

by Winston Graham

  This division existed even among the troops. The spearheads were the few crack regiments available, made up of the finest fighting soldiers, highly trained and disciplined. But of necessity these were few, and the rest of the soldiers were a motley lot, recruited anywhere and anyhow.

  Furthermore, as the fleet drew near its destination and as tactical and strategical discussion began, it became clear that neither of the leaders had a clear idea of how to exploit any early success which might be theirs. De Puisaye waved a hand and explained that at the very sight of a counter-revolutionary force the whole countryside would rise and they would proceed in triumph to liberate one town after another. Two Chouan officers, who had most recently arrived from Brittany, confirmed that 10,000 armed men were in the hills surrounding the area of Quiberon and Carnac and would join forces with them as soon as they landed. D’Hervilly, who had the responsibility of leading the troops, produced his maps and pointed with his long thin forefinger and asked, where, where, where. At each generalization offered him in reply he shrugged and took a pinch of snuff and looked coldly at his friends.

  When they were not far from the French coast, an advance frigate sighted French warships, and the whole of the Channel Fleet wore away to give battle. The weather was changing, the sky smeared and troubled, but for a while the wind dropped. Ross took the opportunity to row across to the Energetic to see how his own followers were. He found them occupied rather as he would have expected. Drake had borrowed a bible and was sitting in a coil of rope reading it, with his forefinger keeping him in the words. Bone was mending his shirt; Ellery and Jonas were aft helping with a rope; Hoblyn and Tregirls were playing tric-trac while some Frenchmen looked on.

  Ross could not stay long, for if the wind picked up he would be likely to be marooned aboard the Energetic; but he had a word with each, longest with Drake, who had benefited from his week at sea. As he was about to leave Tholly sidled up to him and said:

  ‘Know what I think, young Cap’n?’

  ‘No. What do you think?’

  ‘That this is a bit o’ trouble we’re running into. This here. This landing, like.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘These Frenchies. I hear ’em talking. They think I don’t understand. Some of ’em’s prisoners of war. They’ve been prisoners of war and now they’re let loose.’

  ‘D’you mean . . . Released to join this expedition?’

  ‘That’s what I do mean. Someone’s been round the camps in England asking for volunteers. See? You a Royalist? You want to fight for the new King? You want to overthrow the Republic? If ye do, join our expedition.’

  ‘And? . . .’

  Tholly coughed loudly through his horrible teeth. ‘What ye’d expect. Tis a fine way to go home. That’s what they’ve said. I’ve heard ’em whisper, whisper in the dark.’

  Ross stared across at the frigate which was his home. One of the sails was lifting.

  ‘You think when they get ashore? . . .’

  ‘Some’ll fight, maybe. Some’ll not. Some’ll just down muskets and away.’

  ‘This may be an isolated case. Have you heard many speak thus?’

  ‘Enough.’

  ‘Ah . . . Well, it will have to be borne in mind.’

  ‘Excuse me, sir,’ said the sailor who had come with him. ‘I think we’d best go.’

  ‘Yes.’ Ross patted Tholly’s good arm. ‘Be careful you do not win too much money from Jacka. He has a nasty temper when roused.’

  They saw no more of the Channel Fleet, but news reached them of a sharp engagement in which three French ships of the line had been captured. They themselves stood on for France and anchored in the lee of the Quiberon peninsula on the Thursday evening following.

  It was a part of the coast Ross had never been to before. The bay of Quiberon faced east and was formed by a tongue of land jutting out into the sea towards a considerable island, which was called Belle Isle. This tongue of land, he was told, was six miles long and from one to three miles wide. It protected the bay from all winds except the south-east and made this a stretch of coast ideal for landing troops or supplies.

  It looked very peaceful that evening with two or three little villages drowsing in the declining sun and scarcely anyone to be seen. The long unbroken stretch of sand reminded him of Hendrawna Beach, except that the surf was non-existent and the cliffs not so savage. He stood with de Sombreuil and two or three others, watching two French coast pilots approaching the convoy. They were each flying a white flag and as they came nearer they could be heard shouting: ‘Vive le Roi! Vive le Roi!’

  ‘It is the beginning,’ said de Sombreuil, quietly now, his enthusiasm given way to sober emotion. ‘There is my land. So I salute it. It is all how you see it, is it not? To a man from the Americas or from some other part this is just – land, landfall. To me it is France, my home and my life.’

  ‘Where do we expect to put our men ashore?’

  ‘Over there. At the furthest point from Quiberon. That is the village – Carnac. We are told all will be ready there to receive us. But two officers were sent ahead in a pinnace – two days ago – it will depend on their report.’

  Ross could see a familiar figure on board the Energetic, which was coming to anchor near. He waved a hand and saw a hooked iron raised in reply. There was much shouting between the pilot boats and the anchored fleet, and presently two men came aboard and went down into the cabin below. They were there half an hour and then reappeared accompanied by the lean austere figure of Colonel d’Hervilly.

  ‘He is going to see for himself,’ said de Sombreuil. ‘I do not think he is the best man to lead such a mixed company, but one does not question his courage.’

  They watched the count being rowed to one of the pilot boats and then the boats put in to the shore. One or two other boats, fishing smacks and the like, began to appear and to circle round the fleet. There was no sign of hostility. The sun went down. Two days of rough weather had followed the calm off Brest, but now it was quiet again. Ross wondered if his hay was yet safely in.

  After dark M. d’Hervilly came back and a council of war was held in the captain’s cabin of the Pomone. Ross was not invited to be present but de Sombreuil kept him well posted. It was a meeting of high words. D’Hervilly had found nothing in Carnac: a few Chouan officers, a few amiable peasants ready to help; no sign of the 10,000 men promised, only assurances that they would come, would flock out of the hills to join the expeditionary force once it had landed. Once it had landed, they promised, everything would follow. But on the evidence of his personal reconnaissance d’Hervilly decided that no landing at all should take place.

  For a time nothing would move him. It was entirely against all military sense, he said, and indeed against the instructions of the Court of St James, that he should land a weak force almost devoid of cannon, heavy equipment and horses upon a shore where they would be bound soon to encounter well-organized Republican resistance. All the promises of the Chouans, so persistently repeated in London, had been broken. The landing army might remain here in its convoying ships, or it might return to England; he would not, he declared, lead it to its destruction ashore.

  Against this all the persuasions of M. de Puisaye and the other Bretons beat in vain. They swore that half Brittany was already in revolt: it needed only a single light to appear in the Bay of Quiberon for the whole country to burst into flame. They asked him what resistance he had met with in his own landing? He was welcomed as a friend. Then Sir John Borlase Warren, who had hitherto held his peace, tried to move the angry Frenchman. Having built up this invasion force, with all its armaments and provisions, did it not seem, he said, inglorious to return without at least making some attempt? Even if the army landed and things went wrong, it would not have its escape cut off. The fleet would remain to guard the lines of retreat. The French fleet had been severely damaged and driven back into Brest. There was nothing to fear at sea. Re-embarkation was always available.

  Then some
one at last mentioned courage, and it took English intervention to prevent a duel. Then d’Hervilly abruptly gave way. So be it. He was overruled. They should land tomorrow morning at daybreak. The responsibility for the landing should be his – the responsibility for making the decision to land was not. That had to be recorded; then he would consent.

  De Sombreuil came up at once and told Ross.

  ‘We shall begin to lower the boats now. The troops are to be issued with thirty cartridges and two flints per man, and provisions for four days – nothing else but the knapsack. They will take their places in the boats all through the night and at dawn will begin to land. Helas! It is the beginning!’

  ‘You agree with de Puisaye?’

  ‘I think de Puisaye is too much wind. But it is the thing to do now. And he is right, I believe, in general. The country will rise, if we are not annihilated first!’

  Ross rowed over to the Energetic, where boats were already being lowered. After finding a space among them in the dark, he went on deck and had another word with each of his friends. Neither they nor the other English on board were preparing to leave. He had a last word with Drake and told him why this must be an entirely French landing. ‘Nor have I,’ he added, ‘offered you any explanation yet as to why I have brought you and the others.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ said Drake. ‘At least t’as taken my thoughts away.’

  ‘As to what I intend to do – if anything – it will all depend on the success of the landing. I have no fixed plans. Indeed we may do nothing at all.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ said Drake. ‘It has taken me away from what I left behind.’

  The landing took place in the first light of a blurred and showery dawn.

  About three thousand French, who had spent most of the night in the little boats dozing and huddling against the chill wind, went ashore near Carnac. By now their coming was not unexpected and they were greeted by volleys of musket fire from a detachment of Republican soldiers who had been hurried there during the night. A few Royalists fell, but d’Hervilly ordered one of his best regiments to land in a cove behind the enemy and climb the rocks to take them in the rear. This they did with the greatest elan, many soldiers not waiting for the boats to ground but leaping into the sea and swimming ashore. After barely an hour’s fighting the Republicans, who were outnumbered ten to one, dropped their arms and fled back along a road which led to a town called Auray. The Royalists marched into Carnac in triumph as the sun rose through the misty clouds. Crowds of peasants swarmed around them shouting ‘Vive le Roi’ and waving flags. When d’Hervilly arrived he was mobbed. Now that they were actually ashore, now that a Royalist army was in their midst, people really did begin to come in from the neighbouring villages, rapturous with joy. It looked as if de Puisaye after all had been right. De Puisaye was certain he had been right.

  He landed himself at ten o’clock along with most of his staff, and was greeted as a liberating angel. De Sombreuil had been with his regiment since dawn, but Ross was now permitted to land, along with de Maresi and a half dozen British naval officers.

  It was a wild scene, for the peasants were bringing out their wine and food to feast their saviours. Many of the less disciplined French soldiers had got no further than the beach, where they had thrown down their arms and sat on boxes surrounded by exultant Chouans, drinking wine out of litre jars and accepting cheese and cake and anything else the grateful villagers offered them. Others were roistering in the little town. It was, thought Ross, the perfect situation for a counter-attack.

  Fortunately others thought the same. While the Comte de Puisaye was being received at the mairie as if he were Louis XVI returned to life, d’Hervilly was issuing orders for detachments of his best regiments to probe into the countryside for signs of the enemy. He led a company of grenadiers himself, Sombreuil another. Ross would have liked to accompany them, and was not at all at home among all the rejoicing.

  He walked down again to the beach and watched the supplies being ferried in. In his enthusiasm de Puisaye had ordered that they should be brought ashore and distributed to the Chouans, who were hungry for arms; but no one was totally in command of the operation and no one had received any orders as to how the distribution should take place. As a result it became a free-for-all. Great boxes were unloaded on the beach and broken open. Some were full of muskets, some of shot, some of clothing, some of medical supplies. An attempt was made by a trio of Chouan officers to keep the distribution orderly, but soon the peasants, with their rooted dislike of waiting in turn for anything, were crowding round seizing at things almost before they were unpacked. In many cases Ross saw women going away with English muskets, others laden with new uniforms issued for troops of the line. Sometimes quarrels broke out and the French fought among themselves. He saw six Chouans dragging away a light cannon, wrenching it up through the soft sand. He saw a man with six muskets, unable to carry them, almost on his knees.

  At an early stage he had tried to interfere but had been snarled at for his pains.

  Lieutenant McArthur, one of the British officers, said: ‘Ye can do naught with them. We must leave them be.’

  ‘Someone must tell de Puisaye before it is too late.’

  ‘Could he stop them, d’ye think?’

  ‘At least he could stop the supplies leaving the ships.’

  They went back together and after a struggle were able to force their way into the presence of the General. But all were now being carried along on the crest of a wave. D’Hervilly had sent word that an important fort on their right flank, Fort St Michel, had surrendered without a shot, that he was leaving a company of fifty Chouans in charge and was pressing on further south. De Sombreuil had sent back news that a village called Plouarnel had fallen and that the fleeing Republicans had left behind great supplies of food and ammunition. The whole country was rising, as had been predicted. What did it matter if the supplies being ferried ashore were not all distributed as equally as they should be? Soon there would be plenty for all.

  The day passed and night fell. All the commanders of the advance detachments had returned, and at a conference in the mairie they showed their dispositions. In spite of the chaos of the day these were as wise as a good general could have wished. Roughly the liberators now occupied an amphitheatre with the beach as a stage. The arc stretched about five miles from tip to tip and bulged about five miles inland. The army was well placed to resist attack and yet still had its back to the sea where its immediate provisions lay and its line of retreat. The Republicans had fought here and there but the resistance had not been prolonged or fanatical. Always they had given way.

  ‘Who commands the Republican army in this area?’ Ross asked de Sombreuil before they separated for the night.

  De Sombreuil grimaced. ‘Lazare Hoche.’

  ‘I do not know the name.’

  ‘You will, I fear, unless we are able to scotch it soon.’

  ‘An able man?’

  ‘Perhaps the best they have. But he is yet young – about my age – twenty-six or twenty-seven. Cunning, fierce, wise. We shall see.’

  ‘What are the plans for tomorrow?’

  ‘None yet. Talk, of a certainty. Dissension, of a certainty. Quarrels – possibly.’

  ‘Should we not first take Quiberon? We need a port. Are there not more supplies to reach us from England?’

  ‘Oh, yes. But Fort Penthièvre which guards the neck of the peninsula, it will not be easy to reduce. The peninsula there is scarce a mile wide and is overlooked by the guns of the fort on all sides. There is no cover for attacking troops, and to take it will cost many lives. As for the rest, already you see there is much suspicion, dislike among the commanders. Who knows what will be happening? At least it begins well. We shall see.’

  Chapter Seven

  So day came and it was as de Sombreuil had predicted. Argument, dissension and quarrels. The aristocratic French distrusted the troops they were expected to rely on to guard their flanks; they saw the Chouans
as a rabble of unreliable peasants who would fly at the first shot. The Chouans saw these arrogant supercilious noblemen as fops and dandies who were given preference in everything, and returned contempt with contempt. Here and there quarrels broke out where a Frenchman of noble birth had been heard mimicking the accents and manners of the people they were expected to associate with.

  Meanwhile supplies continued to be ferried ashore and to be distributed to all who came for them. A man had not even to declare his loyalist sympathies to be issued with a musket and a supply of shot. By the third day the whole of the 80,000 muskets had been landed and distributed.

  Yet the enemy scarcely moved and had been seen to evacuate several important positions without a fight. It was very hopeful. A division of the Chouans attacked and captured the valuable town of Auray seven miles inland. It had a good river and could be considered a port for small vessels, though it would not take warships or transports. A detachment of grenadiers advanced beyond it to cut communications with Vannes, a centre of much greater importance. Landevan and Mindon fell.

  De Puisaye was again all for advancing, without much thought to the military strategy involved. Although he had been the leader of the Chouans for some time before he went to London, his ideas of warfare were vague and heroic. But d’Hervilly’s ideas were as limited as de Puisaye’s were expansive. He totally disbelieved that if he advanced on Vannes it would fall. He saw only his own army, deficient in horses, cannon and all the heavy armament necessary for meeting a Republican army if it caught him and brought him to battle.

  At last it was decided to attack Fort Penthièvre. Ross discovered that de Sombreuil had not exaggerated its formidable defensive situation; yet this seemed the position that must be secured before anything else was attempted. The plan was that the English would support a landing made on the tip of the peninsula by some of the best of the French regiments, the Hector and the Loyal Emigrants, under de Puisaye himself, while the fleet came in and bombarded the fort at close quarters. At the same time d’Hervilly was to lead the attack from the land side, with the Royal Louis and the Dudresnay regiments. Both attacks were to be supported by large numbers of Chouans. It began at dawn, but to everyone’s surprise the resistance was half-hearted, and almost immediately the commandant of the fort offered to parley. D’Hervilly, at considerable risk, went into the fort alone to negotiate, and after long hours of bargaining persuaded the commandant to surrender. It was a great triumph. By this capitulation the whole of the Quiberon peninsula fell into Royalist hands. Even d’Hervilly, greeted now as a hero, permitted himself the luxury of a smile.