by David O'Neil
The Collector of Customs wore the uniform and held the rank of Rear Admiral. Viscount Malmby KB was a spare man with as dry manner but a twinkle in his eye. He lifted the walking cane he carried and indicated on the wall a mounted chart of the south coast of England, a series of places on the coast of Kent and Sussex, Dorset, Devon and Cornwall. “You may be surprised to learn that, though we are enemies, officials on the other side of the Channel are also concerned at the trade that is being conducted between our countries.”
He held his hand up to prevent Robert interrupting. “Wait! We do not have a dialogue between us on the subject, but we are aware of the attitudes of our opposite numbers, simply based on how they go about things and what sort of things they punish and so on. Obviously both sides used smugglers to deliver spies; now neither side does, since betrayal is a way of life to these people.
“As far as you are concerned, I require a flagship to head the fleet which you will assemble over the next four weeks. You may be interested to know that the recovered galley slaves from the Bone raid have been kept together, rather than dispersing them through the fleet. The Lords of the Admiralty decided that they would be more efficiently employed if kept separated from the general service for the present. They have been placed under your command and are held on a hulk in Portsmouth dockyard.
“In addition a call for volunteers to serve under you has been conducted throughout Dorset producing another one hundred and eighty men.”
The Admiral smiled, “You look surprised, Captain; you cannot be unaware of the influence of your name in the county. The opportunity to serve with the illustrious ‘Lucky Bob’ Captain Graham of HMS Roister is a certain crowd puller.” His wry grin re-appeared briefly as he stopped to take a sip from the glass of wine at his side, raising his hand once more. “Let me finish. There are several smuggling ships and boats held, and I can give you a fast Dutch brig-sloop recently taken from a cutting out raid at Dunkerque. She has sixteen guns and a shallow draught. Currently she is lying at St Katherine’s dock. She is fast and is now crewed by Channel Islanders who know their waters intimately. The Captain is a Guernsey man who lost his family in a raid on St Peter Port by a privateer; he has subsequently made his career in the Preventive service. He previously served as master’s mate in HMS Marlborough at the Battle of Ushant, and was made lieutenant for his bravery in the action. It was whilst he was on his way home that the raid on his family was carried out. He commenced his service with my Department at that time.
“In this package you will find a list of the ships and men available. If there is any problem with dockyards or suppliers let me know.”
***
“Well, Billy, what of Admiral Viscount Malmby KB?” Robert waited, head on one side to hear what his friend had to say.
“I have nothing to say, I had not heard of him until today!” Billy was quite put out; he prided himself on knowing all as far as the hierarchy of the Navy was concerned.
“Obviously that is what this post is all about, closed mouths, Billy, closed mouths. Too many people depend on the goods smuggled into the country to allow us to confide in anyone at all. Please make sure that no one finds out what Roister is doing. I would rather the privateers and smugglers discovered the hard way.
“Remember that smug Peter Tregarth in Plymouth? He had a network of spies from the Assize Judge to the local fishermen, and I’ll bet his wine and Brandy is drunk at Hartwell Hall.”
“I’ll not take that bet, though it won’t be because it were bought from Tregarth, t’will be sold through the local wholesaler as part of the provisions. We will need to be very discreet in our enquiries back home!”
There was little said of the meeting on the journey to the docks, and as the carriage passed the grim bulk of the Tower of London the silence between them reflected their awareness of the importance of their new mission.
The masts of the brig-sloop towered over the smaller craft contained in the dock. The challenge as they approached the ship was sharp, the sentry awake and alert.
Robert stepped under the light at the foot of the gangway. On seeing the uniform, the watch called below and with a rush of feet men poured onto the deck to form ranks to welcome the officer aboard. Graham and Billy stepped onto the deck of the ship and both touched their hats to the quarterdeck. No pipes shrilled as Robert called out. “No pipe” The Captain saluted and led them down to the stern cabin.
He introduced himself as Lieutenant Jean Leclerc, Captain of the sloop Delft. He was a tall, slightly stooped man with a fine aristocratic look about him. His dress was neat and clean, and he looked confident. The men they had encountered so far had been smart and well trained; all indications of the efficiency of the ship and the respect given to the Captain.
Robert introduced himself and his first lieutenant and passed over orders to Leclerc, and they all seated themselves. Leclerc called for wine and opened the orders and read them. They sat for a few moments while Leclerc digested the orders again, then Robert asked.
“Are you ready for sea?” At Leclerc’s nod he continued. “You will sail with the tide tonight and allow yourself to be seen at Hythe and Newhaven; from there I would like you to patrol the waters between the Isle of Wight and the French coast. My ship will be ready for sea by the end of the month which means we should be able to rendezvous south of the Needles in two weeks’ time. I realise you have just taken over command of this ship; by the time we meet again I expect you to be thoroughly familiar with her and ready to take her into battle if needed. Now what can you tell me about the private trade and the smuggling at this end of the Channel?”
For the next hour Leclerc told them in his faintly-French accent exactly what he know of the current situation in the Eastern Channel. He also mentioned on three occasions the name Marc Charles, and once Peter Tregarth.
At the end of his dissertation Graham mentioned what they knew of Tregarth.
“We have several small ships at our disposal which I intend shall only be seen as commercial ships. Mark this, I do not want them seen as part of our force. I have a list here of three cutters and two pinks. I am told all can fly; none have more than a few popguns as main armament, either 6 pounder or the sort of swivel gun found in the maintop or used to repel boarders clamped to the taffrail of a ship. They have hand weapons of course, but their best defence is speed and secrecy.
“We will arrange a series of message points on the shore where they can communicate with the bigger ships, to pass on information. If necessary they may cover their true purpose by cooperating with the smugglers. My intention is to clear the channel of the privateers and large scale smugglers in the first place. So let’s concentrate on them. I do not wish you to hazard your ship against impossible odds but you will have to decide just what that means. Remember, you have men depending on any decision you make. Am I making myself clear?”
Both Beaufort and Leclerc nodded at the serious faced Graham.
“Very well, carry on, Captain Leclerc; we will meet south of the Needles in two weeks at grog issue time, God Willing!”
***
The sharpshooters from HMS Roister were brought ashore to the barracks occupied by the Marine Infantry. The area offered ample ground for the instruction of the men in woodcraft and concealment. As a result of discontent among the other members of the marine detachment, this instruction was given to the entire company, and for this purpose the slop chest of the ship was scoured for suitable civilian clothing for the men to wear whilst training. The other development was the opportunity to obtain one hundred of the discarded Ferguson breech-loading rifles, still stored since the death of Major Ferguson in 1780. By now those Ferguson’s already in use had enabled the most skilled to fire ten rounds per minute.
Colonel Stewart, in command of the barracks, had been a friend of Ferguson’s during the American Campaign, and was a firm supporter of Ferguson’s attempt to get his rifle accepted as a standard weapon for the British army. He was also discreet and co-operated in keep
ing the training for Captain Ullyet’s men separated from the regular training area. He placed a building at their disposal which had been disused for several years for the rifle drill with the breech-loader.
Captain Ullyet took pride in the way his men responded to their training. The uniformed training with muskets was conducted with all the proper pomp and ceremony expected, and it appeared with an extra snap that brought complements from the Garrison Commander.
The 180 men detained in the hulk at Plymouth were gradually infiltrated into the training programs run for the crews of the HMS Roister and the other Preventive ships of the company. From these men they chose a company of horsemen; volunteers who could ride and were capable of training in swordsmanship, to complement their skills in marksmanship. Robert found Preventive men who had been officers in the service and were ready and willing to lead these two highly mobile companies to support ambush officers when swift reaction was required. All were kitted out in naval jackets, dragoon breeches and boots. The remainder of the men were brought into the service as additional crew for the fleet, using other recovered boats to enhance the present numbers available and cover more territory.
Abel Jackson took an important part in the training in woodcraft, and the former poacher Peter Morse was an able assistant in teaching silent movement through the wood and gorse lands of the Devon moors. Throughout the ship, the enthusiasm of the men for the training given by Mr. Jackson grew and more and more of the seamen applied to undertake the training. Billy Beaufort suggested that they were only interested because it gave them skills they could use for poaching when they left the sea. Robert was a little more charitable being of the opinion that the chance to get ashore away from the ship whilst they trained had something to do with it.
Regardless of why, the number of men capable of quiet movement through woodland and field grew to form a large part of the crew. The number of trained riflemen grew in proportion. The additional Fergusson rifles were soon allocated. The relaxed discipline required for the crew members of Roister were remarked by the other Naval officers stationed in Plymouth, and Robert was required on several occasions to point out that the work they were doing needed trustworthy men and he was personally prepared to vouch for them each and every one.
Without the cooperation of Colonel Stewart they would never have succeeded, but because of his help it was possible to infiltrate selected men from the crew into the local underworld, and this led to the capture of a series of wanted men, and the death of the most notorious highwayman in the south west of England.
He called himself Lord Gilbert and he was a ruthless outlaw who killed rather than leave witnesses; his treatment of victims was divided between gallantry and cruelty. He had been known to rape the female passengers on one coach, and return the jewellery of a lady on another.
Young Alan Massie, nineteen years old, and a valued topsail hand, suitably dressed for the occasion as a sweet maid and the cause of much hilarity in his Mess, was placed as passenger on the mail coach to London. The purpose of the subterfuge was to establish a link between a known smuggler and the squire in the village of Bramwell on the London Road.
Young Alan had been given a message apparently from the smuggler to the squire to arrange a meeting, where the squire would be arrested and charged with smuggling. The cold weather gave reason for the muff he carried, and his disguise was sufficient to cause him concern from the attentions of one of the male passengers. Between Buckfastleigh and Ashburton Lord Gilbert appeared, pistols raised. and stopped the coach by shooting the guard before he could use his blunderbuss. He called the passengers to leave the coach and line up alongside.
Noticing young Alan, he retrieved the purses of the other passengers and ordered them back into the coach. He then turned his attention to Alan, ordering him to strip. Alan just grinned at the man, who raised his pistol to hit him. According to the other passengers Lord Gilbert was furious at being defied by this chit of girl, and they all expected Alan to be knocked to the ground. Instead Alan drew out his pistol from within the muff and shot Gilbert through his open mouth. The unknown girl became famous throughout the South West.
The reward for the removal of the highwayman was paid discreetly into the Roister prize fund. The identity of the girl was never revealed to the public. The link between the Squire and the smuggler was not established at that time, though both were caught in the end.
The Half Moon Inn had become a useful listening post for information on the local smuggling scene. The absence of certain people at certain times indicated when a run was being made, and it soon became apparent who were the members of the smuggling gangs, and who weren’t.
The other sources of information were the local members of the Preventative service. Up until now there had been occasions when they could not attempt to interfere with a landing because of lack of numbers. The reinforcements from the sharpshooters, whose numbers were increasing daily with the issue of the rifles to the marine detachment, made interception possible in all events.
The weather for the past month had not helped the campaign against the smugglers; however it was becoming obvious that the intelligence service operating on their behalf was aware of the new blood in the Preventative Service. The use of Dragoons had often resulted in betrayal in the past; since Robert’s men had been used there had been no surprises.
Warning of reprisals against any who betrayed the ‘Gentlemen’ were broadcast, throughout the Devon and Cornish countryside. There was frustration in the Custom House in Plymouth, as it seemed that nothing was going to happen whilst the watch was so efficient.
In the waters off the port of Calais, however, the cutter Brilliant spotted one of the known Privateers, Corbeau Noir, preparing for sea. The weather had caused ships in convoy to scatter and several were now beating up channel, still being rounded up by their harried escorts.
The Brilliant spun about and dashed down channel to rendezvous with the Delft, catching her in mid-channel off Newhaven. Leclerc sent the Brilliant on to meet Roister off the Needles whilst he took the Delft direct to Calais to intercept the Frenchman.
It was evening when the Masthead lookout on the Delft spotted the Corbeau Noir leaving the Guet at Calais. Delft was to the east of the harbour and the privateer was outlined against the dying daylight to the west. Leclerc ordered full sail to catch up with the French ship which was an armed schooner of 12 guns, and a large crew for the boarding operations that they would anticipate.
The chase went on through the night, the lights of the privateer displayed without attempt at concealment as she crept along the French coast, well inshore and clear of any patrolling British ships, unaware of her shadow.
As the dawn light started to creep into the eastern sky the sloop cut in to the shallow waters between the Corbeau Noir and the shore, her shallow draught allowing her to enter water that the deeper-keeled ships would not dare. As the light strengthened, the masts of the frigate Roister appeared to seaward. The reaction on the Corbeau Noir was immediate and she started to come about to escape the enemy frigate. At that point the Delft, unnoticed until now, opened fire with her bow chasers.
“Across her bows Master gunner.” The high voice of Captain Leclerc rang out. The ball raised a column of white water across the turning bow of the Frenchman. As she continued to turn the bow was exposed to the broadside of the sloop, and Leclerc had no hesitation in opening fire. “Starboard broadside, fire as you bear!” Leclerc’s voice was without emotion.
The crew of the Corbeau Noir were running to her guns to get the ship prepared to defend herself, the cannon balls from the first broadside caused mayhem along the crowded deck. Delft spun about, her starboard gun crews reloading their guns for a second broadside.
Meanwhile the port guns got their chance and poured fire into the French privateer, which was looking the worse for wear with holes in her bulwarks and her mainsail ripped where a ball had smashed the boom on the main mast. The bow of the Corbeau Noir fell off the wind, with her
mainsail flapping. As the third broadside from the Customs sloop roared out, the schooner struck an underwater sandbank and her masts toppled. The waves were still quite high from the bad weather, and the panic that broke out on the French ship caused the launching of the surviving boats to become a disaster; both spilling over as they descended to water level. The area around the stricken ship became carpeted with the heads of the abandoned crew.
At that point the waters were too shallow for even the Dutch sloop to approach and, as Leclerc declared afterwards, he was not prepared to risk launching a boat and place his men’ lives at risk in those troubled waters.
Except for seven hardy members of the privateer’s crew, who managed to swim to the next sandbank and from there by degrees to the shore, the entire ship’s company perished.
Leclerc made his report to Captain Graham on the HMS Roister later that day, when they rendezvoused in mid-channel. As Robert observed to Billy Beaufort afterwards, Leclerc did not seem too upset at the loss of life in the shipwreck.
The first lieutenant replied “It’s possibly because of the brutal murder of his family by privateers. In the circumstances I would probably feel the same way.”
The loss of the Corbeau Noir caused a stir on the French side as the crew came largely from Calais and Sangatte. Over 150 men died that day, a loss mourned over the whole area. Significantly, news of the part played by Delft was not known until the survivors came home; and the identity of the mystery ship was still unknown apart from the fact that she flew the hated British flag.
***
Back in Plymouth, Robert was enjoying living at home when ashore. The new home of the Graham family was on the bank of the Tamar River opposite Saltash, one of the many properties that came as part of the dowry of his titled wife. Tamar House stood beside the river and the harbour west of Plymouth looking over to Cornwall.