Distant Gunfire

by David O'Neil

  Halfway there he heard voices. He hid behind the hedge at the roadside as three men in uniform approached, pushing the sailor from the beach before them. They were laughing among themselves. The sailor was not bound or shackled in any way so Robert took a chance and straightened up and donned his hat. Stepping out from the shadow he snapped at the three soldiers in French. They immediately sprang to attention. To the seaman who couldn’t believe his eyes, he snapped in English, “Well, go on. Hit him.”

  The seaman swung round and with all his strength smashed the nearest Frenchman on the jaw with his fist. The soldier dropped as if he had been pole-axed, while the others stood still stunned by what had happened; Robert hit the second man with the butt of the pistol he carried while the sailor tackled the third man, grappling him for the musket he carried. They fell to the ground wrestling for possession of the weapon. Robert, his man unconscious, stepped forward and clouted the third man with his pistol. He subsided beside the others.

  “What happened?” He asked the man. “Barlow, isn’t it?”

  “Yessir, they just came out of the dark and called out in English, I thought it was you, sir.”

  “In English? Then they knew we were here. Tie them up quickly and follow me to the inn. I must warn the agent.” Robert rose, turned and ran silently back the way he had come.

  At the inn there was a light showing through the side window. Robert checked the priming on his pistol and cautiously approached the building. Peering through the window he saw a stranger, a civilian, standing looking at Rene who was seated on a chair in the centre of the room. The Innkeeper was tying his wrists to the chair. Robert noticed the pistol in the stranger’s hand. It was down by his side now the agent had been tied up. Robert took a quick look around the building, checking for other people, but there was no one in sight. Making a swift decision, he banged on the front door of the inn and ran round to the back. As he guessed the Innkeeper went to the front door, the stranger was looking that way as Robert entered through the back door, his pistol raised and pointed at the stranger.

  In response to Robert’s curt command, the stranger placed his pistol on the floor and stood up. The Innkeeper returned and stood looking apprehensive, appalled at the changed situation.

  Robert gestured to the agent; the Innkeeper shrugged and untied the ropes. Rene then tied the Innkeeper and stranger together.

  “Who is he?” Robert gestured at the stranger.

  “I don’t know, but I do know they are waiting for someone else.”

  “Any idea of how long?”

  “Soon I think, from the way he spoke.”

  The seaman appeared at the door, “All tied and gagged sir, but there is someone else coming down the main road, I can hear hoof beats”

  “Well done! Now, Barlow, get back to the ship, as quick as you can.” He wrote quickly on a scrap of paper from his pocket. “Give this to Mr. Williams and bring the party back quickly and quietly now. Go!”

  Barlow left running.

  Robert closed the curtains carefully and he and Rene settled down to wait; both with pistols ready.

  When the French party arrived, there were six men. The leader walked straight to the front door of the inn and banged on it. Rene went and opened the door and the leader entered, leaving the other men outside with the horses. Before the door closed, a pistol was put to his head and he was ordered to sit down. After tying him up and gagging him with the others Robert slipped out of the back door to meet the men from the ship. Hansen the master’s mate arrived quietly with six men. Robert whispered instructions and Hansen and his men circled round the inn. The five remaining Frenchmen, all dismounted and standing, chatting quietly, were captured without a struggle.

  Inside the building Robert and Rene had discussed the situation, Robert deciding to take the entire party back to England with the agent electing to carry on with his task.

  Mounted on one of the horses from the new arrivals, he made his farewell and rode off northwards. The other horses were placed in the Inn stables out of sight. When the sound of the hooves of Rene’s horse were out of earshot the little party made its way back to the beach herding the prisoners before them, and from thence to the ship.

  The entire operation from the first landing, to the final departure took three hours, and it was just after midnight that the cutter left the vicinity under full sail to return to Dover. When the HMS Excelsior reached Dover once more Robert reported the events surrounding the landing of the agent. He faced the same Captain and Mr. Smith, his civilian companion, who drily remarked “It seems the enemy got the word despite your precautions!”

  “Since the landing place had only been selected during the day of departure, and advised to your staff at that time, the news must have been leaked here regardless of your belief to the contrary. I spoke with no one and we did not even mark the chart once we decided where we would land.”

  He took the proffered chair and continued, “Whoever betrayed us must have sent the message to Calais and had the ambush arranged, using the French semaphore towers to contact the people in the area.”

  The enigmatic Mr. Smith was displeased with the suggestion but agreed he would certainly investigate. Meanwhile he received the prisoners enthusiastically at Dover Castle, and congratulated Robert on his quick thinking.

  Robert returned to the Excelsior, now tied up alongside in Dover Harbour. In the absence of other orders he reported to the Port Admiral’s office for orders, hoping to be released from the detachment in Dover to return to their home port of Plymouth for reassignment. He was not surprised, however, to be instructed to remain available in Dover until further notice.

  The enforced delay at Dover gave him a chance to replace some of his uniform, which was getting a little frayed around the edges. He was delighted to hear that the recovery of the Excelsidor from the French at Calais entitled Midshipman Williams, Seaman Willem Egberk, and himself to prize money. Even after the Admiral had his portion, Robert’s share was over £300.00.

  Chapter Two

  The days at Dover passed slowly and quietly. It gave Robert the opportunity to keep the crew up to the mark and train them in his own way. He was aware that he would be watched by the men but that was part of command. His insistence on the men actually demonstrating their expertise and practicing it was at first unpopular, but as they got used to the idea, they took pride in showing what they could do.

  Robert had always considered that in a small craft everyone in the crew should be interchangeable, thus ‘top men’ learned to man the guns and gunners learned sail handling, and all did their turn at the helm. Especially popular were the days when they assumed the death of the captain and the middy took command, then the master’s mate, finally the bo’sun. While these events were staged the officers watched and were available for criticism afterwards, this kept the crew on their toes.

  They found the time to have the small repairs that were always ‘to be done next time’, actually done. The main problem was that eventually boredom set in, and the restlessness among the crew caused Robert to approach Mr. Smith with the request that they be given a real job to do. The resulting series of patrols off the French coast allowed the crew to settle down into a regular routine once more.

  The weather in the channel could never be reliably predicted and when expected fine weather turned out to be fog regular sailors shrugged their shoulders and got on with life.

  HMS Excelsior was scudding along to a fresh breeze, the sun had broken through the overcast and was glinting off the wind driven whitecaps. Robert was standing beside the wheel when the cry came from the forward lookout, “Boat ahoy, starboard side.” The lookout pointed to the boat, low in the water now visible from the deck.

  The open boat had four people lying in the bottom, two men and two women, none showing any sign of life.

  Robert gazed down into the boat saddened by the sight, guessing that they had lost their bearings and had carried on rowing in circles until they were exhausted. When th
e bodies were recovered from the small craft it was found that the two men had both been shot, one of the women, just a girl, was dead, probably from exposure. It was only then that Hansen, who was passing the bodies up, realised that the other woman was still breathing.

  Having searched the boat, recovering several small boxes and bags from under the seats, they abandoned it after punching a hole in the bottom to ensure it sank.

  The young woman was taken into Robert’s cabin where the carpenter, a middle-aged married man with several children, stripped her clothes off and rubbed her dry with cloths. Then he wrapped her in blankets to warm her up. As he bathed her lips with a little brandy he was rewarded with a gasp and a cough, followed by the regard of two steady blue eyes.

  He called the Captain.

  Robert faced the girl and spoke to her in French, “How do you feel?”

  “Thirsty and hungry” She replied.

  After a little food and hot drink she sat up in the bunk and introduced herself as Mariette, Comtesse D’Valle. The others in the boat were her brother the Comte and their friends Robert Chaumade and his daughter Felice. They had been hidden by loyal servants for several weeks until they were forced to flee when their protectors were denounced by a neighbour and taken to the Bastille.

  Mariette D’Valle shuddered, and in excellent English explained, “We arranged to meet a boat to take us to England and left in the small dinghy to row to a rendezvous off the Calais light. We saw the craft we had arranged to meet and were signalled to approach. When we reached her side the men on board took our extended hands, we thought to bring us aboard, but instead they pulled the rings from our fingers. Then others got down into the boat and took the other baggage, hitting the two men when they protested. The things in the boat had been missed because the alarm was raised as another ship came near. They were discussing taking Felice and I on board to use and then dispose of, when my brother recovered his senses and pushed off away from the side of the ship.

  “The boat drifted clear while they were arguing, my brother the Comte and Chaumade who had also recovered paddled the boat with their hands to escape from the thieves, the men on the ship laughed as we tried to get away and they began shooting at the men paddling. The oars had been lost so they could make little headway. Both were hit and my brother died then and there, but we were now drifting over shallow water and the ship set sail and abandoned us. M’sieu Chaumade died later in the night.”

  Mariette stopped and composed herself; she took a drink and continued.

  “There isn’t much more to tell, Felice and I clung together for warmth but it was so cold and our other clothes had been in the bags stolen by the crew of the ship. I got the coats of my brother and Robert and wrapped them round us, but we could not get warm enough. We had escaped, but without oars the boat was at the mercy of the wind and tide. Felice lost heart and despite my best efforts she succumbed to exhaustion, and quietly drifted off.”

  She sank back exhausted, so Robert tucked her in and let her sleep.

  Mariette woke once more before they reached Dover, and she sobbed when Robert reminded her that her companions were all dead. In Dover she was immediately gathered into the system already well established by earlier émigré families.

  Anticipating with some regret that he would see her no more, it was only seven days later Robert was pleasantly surprised to receive an invitation to a reception for the Free Society in Dover Castle as a guest of the Comtesse D’Valle.

  It was a glittering occasion and, Robert, arrayed in his best dress uniform, felt quite overshadowed by the gold braid and fine clothes of the men and the sparkling jewellery and colourful silks and satins of the ladies.

  He was greeted at the entrance by the Comtesse and her uncle Armand, a man of middle years; tall, slim and elegant, dressed in the rather more showy fashion that was becoming popular with elements of the Beau Monde at that time. He had escaped to England three years before. Both seemed pleased to see him, and as he bowed over the hand of Mariette she whispered to him to wait and escort her after the guest’s reception.

  Armand D’Valle was most grateful for the part played by Robert and his men in rescuing his beautiful niece, and surrendered him to the attentions of Mariette with a smile.

  The two made a handsome couple as they strolled through the rooms and helped each other to the variety of food displayed. The mild evening air encouraged Robert to invite her to see the gardens, and both enjoyed the summer evening stroll among the roses laid out in formal beds.

  She questioned Robert on his fluent French, and he explained that his mother was French and had insisted that they spoke French every day within the house. When she died his father had engaged a French tutor to make sure that Robert could speak effortless French as his mother had wished. He added that his father, who was a keen historian, had predicted there would be trouble with France in future, and he thought it sensible for his son to have knowledge of the language in his future career in the navy.

  The evening passed all too soon for Robert who was enchanted by his lovely companion.

  Though Mariette was no older, in many ways she was far more mature than Robert. The life of the French aristocracy was geared to a rather racier pace than that of provincial England. When they parted late that evening she had invited him to call upon her at the house occupied by her uncle, in Dover. She was staying there until her eventual move to London could be arranged.

  It was a week before Robert was able to take advantage of the invitation; his note requesting permission to visit had been promptly returned with an invitation to dinner. It was still with a certain amount of trepidation that he approached the door of the imposing house located in what was seen as the better part of Dover.

  The lights beside the door were lit even in the early evening and the door was answered by a lofty looking manservant, who was expecting him. Robert passed over his hat and sword, and was ushered into the drawing room where after just a few minutes the doors burst open to admit Armand. He entered in a rush, full of apologies for his lack of courtesy and the fact that he would not be able to join them that evening. It seemed that Armand, having become the Compte D’Valle succeeding his nephew to the title, was required to move in a different social circle, forcing him to accept the Prince de Conde’s invitation to cards. His comment “An all night invitation to lose money to the old goat, I fear.” He departed leaving Robert to be faced with the vision in a flowing blue gown; his hostess Mariette.

  The thrill of excitement that the sight of his French hostess evoked was still with him as he returned to his ship.

  When Midshipman John Williams observed his captain returning to the Excelsior at seven am the following day still dressed in his best uniform although a trifle dishevelled, he grinned at the bo’sun who was also enjoying the morning air. Neither said a word as both stood to attention and touched their hats in salute as their captain came aboard.

  ***

  The Excelsior made three more trips to drop and collect agents while Robert was in command

  His association with the delightful Mariette was sadly discontinued when she departed Dover for London.

  When the announcement of Mariette’s wedding came to a fellow emigré of similar social rank, although it was no surprise, it was still painful for some time.

  The year of Robert’s first command finally ended when it was decided that the HMS Excelsior would be handed over to the Preventive Service for anti-smuggling duty. When she was handed over the crew were returned to Plymouth for re-appointment to other ships.

  For Robert it was a summons to London, a call at the Admiralty for his appointment to a new ship. His activities in the channel had been noted and he found he had been the subject of an entry in the Gazette, which was a surprise and a help perhaps for his future career.

  He was informed of his appointment as first Lieutenant on the ship/sloop HMS Witch, Midshipman John Williams and Masters Mate Sven Hansen joined the ship at the same time.

  T
he Witch was refitting in the dockyard at Plymouth so Robert was able to see her for the first time out of the water; he was impressed with her clean lines. Her Captain, Commander William Dawson was a Dorset man from Broadway, three miles out of Weymouth. He was old for his rank, perhaps thirty five, and still spoke with the burr of Dorset in his voice. At five foot ten he had to look up to Lieutenant Graham.

  HMS Witch was teak built in Bombay for the East India Company, but as happens on occasion, she was seized by the navy on the grounds of greater need. Designed on the lines of a French corvette captured and used for many years on the coast of India, her design gave her speed that made her compare favourably with many of her peers in the fleet. A little longer than her corvette origins, her greater length allowed for taller masts and, balanced by the weight of armament, she was quicker than the English built sloops of the same class.

  Her task in the present conflict was mainly confined to the service of the fleet; despatches, scouting, and the interception of convoys. Though rated a sloop she was virtually a small frigate, her broadside of eight 12 pounder guns plus two 24 pound carronades made her a formidable opponent and with the two, long twelve pounder guns mounted as bow chasers and a similar pair at her stern, she was well suited for the task of convoy escort, or for attacking convoys if required.

  The days of fitting out were busy but there was time for Robert to visit his father in the Manor House, at Greyland the village where he was the local Squire.

  Robert had not seen his father for over a year, and it was with genuine pleasure that he greeted the tall, austere man who welcomed him at the door of the big stone house. The entire household were there to greet him and he was swept into the embrace of Mr.s Wharton, his nurse of long ago, now housekeeper to his widowed father.

  He took the chance to ride out over the farms with the stable hand, Tom Rivers, whom he’d known all his life. But it was the time he was able to sit and talk of grown up matters with his father that he treasured most.