British Light Dragoon (Napoleonic Horseman Book 3)

by Griff Hosker

  The colonel was, indeed waiting for us. He held a leather document wallet in his hand. “These are papers which identify you as Henri Ricard and his American servant Alan Sharp. There is an American passport for Mr Sharp.” He shrugged, “It may expedite an escape.”

  “It is a real passport then?”

  “It is. It accurately describes Mr. Sharp although, truth be told, it would match many men.” He handed them to me. I would examine them later on and give Sharp his own passport. I felt happier knowing that he would have a way out of France if disaster overtook us.

  “Now time is pressing. Are there any more questions? If so ask me in the carriage. We have to be quick to make the tide.”

  The ride through London was frenetic. I heard the curses both of the driver and the pedestrians who were driven from the road. Once we reached the outskirts the journey became quieter. It was something of a relief when we halted and he door opened. I could smell the river and the sea. The driver and guard unloaded our bags and deposited them on the quayside. There the ‘Black Prince’ awaited us.

  Colonel Selkirk was quite spritely despite his age and he hurried us to the gangplank where a young lieutenant, who looked to be about twelve, awaited us.

  “You have cut it fine sir.”

  “Listen you young whippersnapper I have been told that you are the best sloop officer in the Channel Fleet so I will overlook your impudence. Just get these two men to France and back safely and there may be a promotion in it for you.”

  He did not seem at all put out by the rebuke and he smiled, “That doesn’t matter sir, I like the Prince. Now gentlemen if you would like to come aboard. I will try to live up to the reputation I appear to have.”

  I liked Jonathan Teer; he was an affable, spirited and cheerful young man. He reminded me of François, the French captain, who had rescued me from Egypt. Perhaps it was something about the captaincy of such small and vulnerable ships that made them that way.

  We had no sooner stepped on board than the gangplank was run in and the tethers tying us to the shore released. Colonel Selkirk gave an absent minded wave and entered his carriage.”I am Lieutenant Jonathan Teer. Your bags are below. If you would join them I will get us to sea.” He obviously felt he had to explain. “We wouldn’t want any prying eyes eh?”

  I could see that despite his apparent youth this was an experienced captain for this sort of venture. I felt more confident already. Once below I took out the documents and gave Sharp his passport. “This may well save you if we are unfortunate enough to be captured. Just keep to your story that you did not know I was anything other than a Frenchman who hired you in America.”

  “Will it come to that sir?”

  “It may well. We do not need you to be dumb this time. You can just speak French badly. The more you speak it the better it will become. It will also explain why I have to occasionally speak English to you but I shall do so badly.”

  We both checked through our bags to familiarise ourselves with the equipment. The pistols, powder and ball were all French and there were even some French toiletries in my bag. I did not think I would use them but it was not something I could guarantee.

  The ship’s bosun knocked on the door and, knuckling his forehead, said, “Mr Teer’s compliments and as we have cleared land would you care to come on deck. “

  We followed him up the narrow stairs to the stern of the ship. The lieutenant was lounging on the taff rail. “We are making good time and it is blowing up nicely. This should keep prying eyes indoors although the place I am going to land you is deserted… hopefully.” He handed me a map. “Now here is the map with the landing site and the places I will wait to pick you up. They are number one to four. I will wait from ten o’clock at night until two in the morning. If I miss you then go to the next one.” He paused, “You have a time piece I take it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now you must memorise the places for I do not want the map going ashore with you. We will do all that we can to aid you gentlemen but there are just four pick up points and a narrow time limit. We have spread them out as you will have a large area to cover. You choose your own route, of course.”

  “I understand. And are there security measures?” I remembered how François had used signals to make sure we were alone.

  “Yes, good man. I am impressed. Some of the chaps I take seem to think they are on some damned ferry. I will show the same number of lights as the number on the map. You will flash a light the same number as the number on the map. If you are under duress then flash five times.”

  “And…”

  He grinned, “And I shall be prepared. My men are quite competent.” He leaned in and said, “Between you and me if they hadn’t been pressed they would have either been smugglers or pirates… or both! Now take that below deck, the light is better, and memorise them. The steward will give you something hot eh?”

  I opened the map and looked at the points. They were not sequential. Number one was in the far north, north of Calais. Number two, the first pick up point was in the south, close to Etaples. The last one was between Calais and Boulogne. We would need horses. I handed it to Sharp. “Memorise it too.”

  The motion of the sloop became more extreme as it was buffeted by the Channel waves. I knew it would help us to slip ashore unnoticed but I wished it was a little flatter. The cook appeared with two huge sandwiches filled with hot fried salt pork and two mugs with steam rising. “Here y’are sirs. Something to stick to your ribs while you are in Johnny Frenchman land.”

  I took a sip of the drink. It was cocoa laced with rum. It was delicious. My face must have displayed my thoughts for he chuckled, “That’ll keep you warm even if you fall in the old Tiddly Oggy.”

  Sharp also enjoyed the drink and, as he munched his hot sandwich he ventured, “Sir, what is the Tiddly Oggy?”

  “I think it must be sailor’s slang for the sea. They seem to have their own language. Look at the plate. What do you notice?”

  “It’s square and has a raised edge around the side.”

  That is to stop the food falling out during a storm but it is called the fiddle so in the Navy if you are ‘on the fiddle’ then it means you have got more than your fair share and must have bribed the cook.”

  “How do you know all this sir?”

  “I have sailed with men who had been in the navy once and they told me. There’s many more, ‘let the cat out of the bag’, ‘pay through the nose’, they have their own language.”

  We had just finished when we were summoned to the deck. Two seamen humped our bags across their shoulders and followed us up the narrow stairs.

  “Gentlemen, there is France. My men will row you ashore. The clock is now ticking. Four nights from now we will be at rendezvous two.” I nodded. “Have you any idea how long this might take?”

  “Last time it was just a few days but you never know. Sorry.”

  “Oh don’t apologise. We shall just swan up and down. It is quite lucrative. We look for smugglers and the like. Brings in a healthy income and the navy has given us sixteen days to enjoy ourselves. You are doing us a favour sir.”

  I shook hands, “It has been a pleasure to meet you and I hope to see you one of these nights.”

  The small skiff seemed precariously close to swamping as we were rowed ashore, but the bosun, who steered seemed unconcerned. Two men hauled the boat on to the shingle and helped us off with our bags. The bosun cheekily pointed down the beach, “That way to Calais sir!” I nodded and then he added, whilst pointing north, “and just up there is a bloody big French fort so pick the right direction eh sir?”

  Within a few strokes they were lost in the spray and we were alone in France.

  Chapter 10

  We headed inland from the sea. The land was made up of dunes and marshes. Luckily there was a path of sorts. I wondered if smugglers used this particular beach. Eventually we reached a tree lined road heading along the coast. It looked well used and, if there was a ‘bloody bi
g French fort’ just north of us then that made sense. It was hard to judge time but I was concerned about arriving in Calais at the wrong time. Too early and we would be viewed suspiciously. Too late and we stood more chance of questions about our lack of transport.

  “We’ll walk down this road until we reach the outskirts of Calais and then we will wait until dawn and begin moving when the streets start to fill up.”

  The captain had dropped us as close to Calais as he could and we soon found ourselves in the outskirts of the port. We walked to the edge of the harbour where a few hardy fishermen were heading for their boats. We stood and watched them for a while. I have noticed that people who do that sort of thing are generally ignored. I even passed a few pleasantries with a couple of them, wishing them a good harvest. They smiled and thanked me. The fact that we were talking also made it less suspicious. As the last boat was leaving I asked, “Is there anywhere close to get a decent meal?”

  “Try Jacques, just along from the Customs House. Tell him Pierre sent you.” He laughed, “I might get a free drink out of it; if you eat enough.”

  “Thank you.”

  We reached the small establishment. I did not know quite what to call it. It was hardly a restaurant and yet it wasn’t a bar. It looked the kind of place that hard working fishermen would use. Up ahead I saw the Customs House and the National Guardsmen at the barrier. They did not even give us a second glance. Already our choices were reaping rewards. The place was almost empty. I suppose the fishermen must have just left. The owner was wiping down the tables although the cloth was so dirty I was not certain how effective it would be.

  “Sirs?”

  “Pierre told us we could get some decent food and drink here at a reasonable price.”

  His demeanour changed instantly. We had gone from casual enquirers to customers. “Certainly sir, the best in Calais, if I do say so myself. Just arrived have you?”

  I gestured towards the Custom’s House. “Just.” If asked later on he would say that we had arrived legally.

  “Just take a seat and I will bring you a menu.”

  “Don’t bother with that. Just bring us what you think is your best meal and your best wine.” It was a little early for wine but it would help us to fit in.

  He rubbed his hands together, “I do like serving gentlemen of quality. I shall bring your food in a moment.”

  He disappeared into his kitchen whistling happily and I winked at Sharp who grinned back at me. I realised how relaxed he looked compared with our first foray. He was learning.

  The food was adequate and I knew that he was rooking us but it was worth it to become established. When the men from the Custom’s House arrived for their breakfast it was confirmed. They smiled at us and said, “Good morning.” There was no suspicion and we even chatted about the weather and the effect of the British Blockade on the trade in Calais.

  As we left I gave the owner a healthy tip and the officers both smiled and wished us a pleasant stay. We were safely in France and I prayed that it would be as easy to get out.

  I had discovered, through chatting in the bar, that the best hotel was the ‘Mercure’. I headed there. It would be where any officers involved in the planning of an invasion would stay or at least they would frequent it at night. I also deduced that there would need to be civilian contractors supplying the army and they would also stay there. Our story was that I was trying to import cotton from America. Now that the relations between America and Britain were strained it would be logical to try to steal that lucrative trade. I doubted that any one in Calais would know more than I did about cotton- that was precisely zero- but it was a peaceful occupation.

  The hotel was delighted to take a customer who paid in gold Louis and not the requisitions from Bonaparte. We were given a fine suite with a separate room for Sharp. I said we would be there for at least a week and paid in advance. It was not my money I was being so lavish with. The manager was delighted to have money in the bank.

  After we had changed and Trooper Sharp had put our clothes away I went to the front desk. “Is there somewhere I could rent a couple of horses? I am thinking of buying some property n the area.”

  “Of course sir. We have some in the hotel.” He gave me an ingratiating smile. “I will add it to your bill.” We were a lucrative goldmine to the ‘Mercure’ and its staff.

  “Of course.”

  The horses were much better than the ones I had hired the last time I had been in Calais. I made sure that we steered clear of that area of the harbour from where we had fled previously. Our appearance was different as I had grown a moustache and Sharp had allowed his hair to grow longer. I doubted that Sergeant Major Jones would have approved but needs must.

  As soon we as left the old town I noticed soldiers marching towards the port. That meant that there were camps nearby.

  To make it less obvious that we were spying, Trooper Sharp had a stick and he made notches on it with his pocket knife. To an observer it would look like idle whittling but we had a system worked out so that, at night, we could convert our notches into regiments. The camps were really obvious and were just outside the town. There were just four regiments of foot there. When we had not seen any more for two miles I turned around and we headed back into Calais. As luck would have it we fell in with a couple of infantry officers heading into the port to pick up new uniforms.

  After the normal peasantries I said, “That is a large camp.”

  The officer laughed, “You are joking. We are the smallest. Now Boulogne, Bruges and Montreil, they are the big camps. They are like small cities.”

  His companion seemed less ebullient, “It makes no difference. Until we drive their Navy away how will we cross.”

  I played Devil’s Advocate. “But it is such a small stretch of water. Surely it would not take long to cross it.”

  He shook his head. “Have you looked out to sea? The British blockade the port.”

  His friend laughed, “Do not worry our admiral will defeat them and then there is always the tunnel.”

  “The tunnel?”

  ”Yes, General Bonaparte has engineers digging under the sea.”

  It was his companions turn to laugh. “And I have seen how much they have dug. Our children can travel that way or possibly our grandchildren! They have barely scraped a hole.”

  They walked ahead of us. I slowed down and followed. I wished to hear their conversation. ”I suppose the colonel will give us another test tonight on the map.”

  “The names are unpronounceable! I do not know why we are landing in Essex. It seems like mudflats to me.”

  “I think out little general believes they will not expect us there. Besides, Kent has too many hills and places where the British could hold us up. Essex is, at least, flat.”

  We could return to England right now. We knew where they were landing. I had discovered the most vital piece of information on the first day.

  Back in the hotel Sharp said, “I don’t like the idea of that tunnel sir.”

  “I am not worried about that. It would take a long time to build a tunnel but we need to investigate these other camps.”

  There was a map of northern France in the lobby and we went down to look at it. “It looks to me like Boulogne is the closest.” Sharp didn’t say anything but he drew a line from Etaples to Montreuil. I nodded. It was close to our last rendezvous point. Bruges was the furthest. We would look at Boulogne and then finish our reconnaissance at Montreuil.

  Back in the room we dressed for dinner. “After dinner I will go to the bar and see what I can pick up.”

  “I will transfer the information from the notches to paper.”

  “Good.” I was keen to have a written record to take back to the colonel this time. I had sensed a little disappointment at the oral nature of my report the last time we had returned.

  The restaurant in the hotel was a fine one. The menu was extensive and expensive. The clientele matched the menu. There was no-one below the rank of colonel
and the women all wore fabulous clothes. I suspected that Calais would not normally have such attraction for the well heeled but the prospect of an invasion by the mercurial Bonaparte made it the place to be.

  I ordered for Sharp; by now I was accustomed to his taste and knew that he would enjoy the food. We were largely unobserved in the rear of the restaurant and that suited me. I was mentally identifying the ranks and, where possible, the regiments.

  As I was eating I noticed a colonel of engineers with a small, pretty woman. She looked nothing like the other flashily dressed women who adorned the arms of the other soldiers. She seemed like a little bird and nibbled at her food. She had me intrigued. What interested me was the fact that the engineer appeared to be serious in nature. He was listening to all that the woman said. Whilst the other women were giggling and laughing she was actually drawing on a paper napkin and talking in an animated fashion. I resolved to discover more, if they stayed.

  After we had had coffee Sharp nodded and went to our rooms. I signed for the meal and adjourned to the bar area. Many of the officers and their ladies had had too much to drink and were being quite lively. I headed for the small table occupied by the engineer and the bird like lady. I took the table next to them. I ordered a brandy and lit a cigar. I did not often smoke but found it a useful disguise to mask my spying.

  I could barely hear what they were saying because of the cacophony of noise from the women and their escorts. Suddenly one of the officers dropped a bottle of champagne and it crashed to the floor. The woman jumped and gave a small squeal. I took the opportunity to lean over and say, “Are you all right Madame? The noise is intolerable.”

  She smiled at me and lowered her eyes. “Thank you sir but I am a little nervous.”