by David O'Neil
The platoon followed—laughing at their discomfort, but rapidly calming down under the icy glare of their officer—through the gates and into the grounds beyond. The small party marched over to the wagons and the captain roused up the drivers and ordered them to harness the horses and prepare to move. Thoroughly cowed by the fierce manner of the officer, they set about their task. He then strode over to the tent occupied by the senior cavalry officer present. The Colonel was being housed in the Chateau with his guest, the English spy.
Major Curtain the 2nd in command was shaving when he was interrupted by Captain Petain of the 1st Regiment of Foot. “And who the hell are you?” He said impatiently.
“Sir, I am Captain Petain, in command of the prisoners escort. I have to report that my platoon has been relieved of their prisoners and ordered to ride the wagons for the rest of the march as close escort. There has been a report of partisan activity in this area.”
The Major was disgusted. “I have 150 troopers under arms here, what do they worry about.”
The captain shrugged his shoulders and sighed, as if to say, ‘so what’s new’? The Major also shrugged and thought, ‘bloody amateurs’ and turned to the Captain. “Very well, fall your men in close escort to the wagons; I’ll inform the colonel when he appears. Carry on!”
The Captain saluted and turned and left the tent. As he crossed to the men, he sighed with relief and reported to Ullyet the success of his plan.
Ullyet spoke quietly to Midshipman Dawson, “I want you to contact Captain Graham.” He showed Dawson the map they had made of the area pointing out where their Captain should be. “Tell him that we are in command of the wagons. As soon as the ambush occurs, we will turn the wagons and make for the beach. If he concentrates on keeping the cavalry occupied, we should manage the rest.” He walked with the young man down to the gate and past the two disgruntled troopers who glared at them but let them through. He sent the boy off and turned to the troopers. “Captain Petain, oh ho!” and shrugged his shoulders and returned to the wagons.
Alan Dawson put his rifle over his shoulder and trotted down the road towards Lorient; he stopped, studied the map and looked about at the local area. He climbed the bank beside the road on the left and from the top of the bank he called out in a clear voice, “Captain Graham, Sir?”
A green-jacketed figure rose from behind the hedge, and pointed down the road towards Lorient, “Should find him just before the corner, Mr. Dawson!” He touched his hat and sank down once more.
Dawson ran down to the corner and found the captain. He explained to Robert the developments regarding the prisoners. Robert sent messengers down the line both ways to warn the riflemen to avoid the wagons and carriage and ordered Dawson to remain with him to act as messenger if required.
The camping arrangements had taken them by surprise, however it had simplified matters. That they were able to get the prisoners out of the way unharmed left the field clear for the rest of the operation on the road after the column left the Chateau. The infantry men were ideally placed to support the ambush party if necessary; otherwise they were well situated to escape to the beach while the cavalry were otherwise occupied.
The wagons and their drivers were lined up ready to leave by the time the colonel and his guest came out of the Chateau. Ignoring the trooper’s formation, they boarded the coach and the cavalcade moved off through the gates for the final ten mile stretch to Lorient.
The long column stretched out on the country road, the leading unit out of sight round a bend and the skirmishers as much as a mile ahead of the train. Two of the infantrymen dropped back to march beside the carriage, dropping back until they were beside the rear wheels as two more took their place either side of the front wheels. Nobody commented and for another half mile the march continued without incident.
Suddenly a cry was heard from near the front of the column and the entire party shambled to a halt. There was shouting from further up the road and a galloper came to report to the Colonel, a peasant’s hay cart had broken a wheel, blocking the road where it went out of a cutting. Men were moving it now, it would be just a few moments.
The front section of the escort was well ahead by now unaware of the incident behind them. A volley of shots rang out and several troopers fell around the peasant cart. The men immediately in front of the wagons suddenly found themselves under fire from both sides of the road. Seventeen men fell at the next volley.
The sound of the shots brought the rearguard pounding forward to support the section under fire, leaving the defence of the wagons and carriage to the infantry platoon. Drawing their carbines ready, they ran into a fire storm of bullets fired with extreme accuracy from both sides of the road. The steady volleys shattered the ranks of the beleaguered troopers, who were watching their comrades fall on all sides. Their discipline was not sufficient to stand this sort of fire and they broke, scattering in all directions. Under the command of Captain Ullyet, the wagons and carriage turned and retreated back the way they had come. The colonel and his companion were flung about inside as the driver whipped the horses to escape the flying bullets that were murdering the cavalry.
The soldiers marching alongside the carriage jumped up and clung on for dear life riding the steps of the vehicle while holding onto the window frames, the soldiers with the wagons climbed frantically onboard and clung on for dear life.
Back at the Chateau gates, the carriage stopped and the Colonel and his companion got out. They were tousled and furious. As the Colonel opened his mouth to speak, Captain Ullyet appeared on a trooper’s horse, and ordered them both back inside the carriage. He emphasised his order with a levelled pistol. The wagons caught up and the whole party together once more made their way back to the beach.
As they approached the beach, the boats had just begun ferrying Green Jackets who had been sent down direct from road out to the frigate. The cutter was close inshore, awaiting the wagons; groups of men were there to help with loading the small boats waiting on the beach.
The Colonel was released from the carriage and he and the civilian were taken under escort out to the frigate. As the loading progressed, the sound of horses was heard from the woods above the beach, Midshipman Abbot in charge of the beach party signalled a warning to Roister even as Captain Ullyet and his riflemen deployed in cover along the beach edge, rifles ready.
As the first of the cavalry broke cover, rifles cracked, and the three troopers dropped from their saddles. No others showed themselves; though several shots were fired from within the trees.
The loading was now completed; all the contents of the wagons had been taken on board so Ullyet’s riflemen retreated down the beach in groups of three. When they reached the water’s edge, a signal to the ship was followed by cannon fire from the ship causing the trees to shudder with the impact of the hail of shot from the grape charge. The retreating men piled onto the waiting boats and were pulled out to the ship passing swiftly out of range of the trooper’s carbines.
Robert greeted the Colonel of cavalry and the civilian in his cabin, the Colonel handed his sword over with the comment that the party would not get far; he would be reclaiming it shortly! Robert sent him to join the other prisoners and turned his attention to the civilian.
As the two ships sailed past Ile-de-Groix, sails were spotted downwind—two ships, both under topsails. The signal to increase sail flew up to the yard of Roister, and the top-men raced up through the rigging to set the sails, the ship moved appreciably faster in response to the extra sails set. On the cutter she set her trysail and a spanker below the long bowsprit. Both ships settled slightly in the water, and the race began in earnest.
It was soon apparent that the cutter would not be able to keep up the pace, despite her best efforts she kept dropping behind. Roister slowed, easing her sails to keep company.
Astern the pursuing ships began to gradually increase in size as they closed the range.
It is often the case that when things look as if they are going
well, it could be time to look over your shoulder. Captain Graham went on deck and spoke to the master Mr. Callow, “How soon will they be with us?”
“Not until after dark, we should have a chance to lose them in the dark, but with Quimper off to starboard we have to turn to port and they will know that.”
“I think the blockade fleet should be in the area of Brest, and we will be up to there shortly, so what I think is we will take advantage of the prevailing wind here and turn in to the bay of Brest whilst it is still light, then out past the Ile Beniguet as soon as night falls. Since we have not seen the blockade fleet, I would guess they have sailed out beyond Ile d’Ouessant and will be returning with the dusk. If I am wrong, we’ll fight.” He shrugged and went below to question the spy.
In the cabin the civilian from the carriage was seated on the bench beneath the stern windows, his back to the light, he appeared relaxed and rose to his feet when Robert entered.
The man walked over and seated himself in the chair opposite Robert’s desk. “The window seat is a pleasant place to sit in your little ship.” He drawled the words and seemed perfectly at ease.
Robert looked at him gravely. He was a tall man, perhaps 6 feet even, with black hair swept back and held by a black ribbon over the collar of his neat jacket, also black. Robert did not recognize him, which was not that surprising, since he did not move in the exalted circles of government or society. Amelie however did know him, and when she appeared through the cabin door the stranger blanched.
For the first time Robert spoke. “Who are you, and if you would please explain why you were being entertained by the French military?” There was a lengthy silence while the stranger struggled to think of an answer that would be accepted.
Amelie spoke. “Perhaps it would be easier if I opened proceedings with a little background!
To Robert she said. “This is Lord Charles Wade.”
Robert looked up sharply at the name, although he did not know the face, the name was familiar to most people in England.
Amelie continued “Lord Wade is a confidant of our foreign minister and regularly is called upon to advise Horse Guards on our military strategy. His lordship comes from an Irish landed family of considerable antiquity but questionable ethics. Over the centuries they have suffered from a succession of extravagant descendants. The family holdings have been progressively sold off until at this present time they consist of a semi-ruined castle in the west of Ireland, and an empty title.
“Like many of his forebears, Lord Charles has had to depend on his wits to live in the manner he feels is appropriate. Spying for the French provides an income.”
The silence following these damning comments extended until finally broken by the subject.
“I find that the politics of the European nations are all driven by greed. The so called rule of the people in France is a sham, and Napoleon will no doubt soon declare himself as King. The Royal family in Britain comprises weak, sick, self-indulgent Princes; one a buffoon the other a stuffed shirt. Their father shows no sign of interest in either. I enjoy a better standard of living playing one against the other, and why not? For me there is no loyalty due to either side, their financial contributions to my living have been earned with the impartial transmission of information in both directions.”
He sat back with a smug look in his face, expecting that he had explained himself in a satisfactory way. The proceedings were interrupted by a knock on the door. On being told to enter, the bo’sun saluted and said “I’ve rigged the noose from the yardarm for the spy, sir! It’s all ready when you are.”
“Very good bo’sun, I’ll let you know when we’re ready.”
There was another lengthy silence when the bo’sun withdrew, and it was a very shaken Lord Charles who broke the silence. “What is all this about hanging?”
“Why, that is the sentence for spying under British law, and added to that is the charge of treason against the crown, which also carries the death penalty. By hanging you now it saves you having to anticipate being hung for the next few weeks, gets it all over quickly.” Amelie said brightly.
Lord Charles looked appalled, “But… but” he stuttered “I have to be tried in court, there are explanations I can make information I can help with….” He trailed off and buried his head in his hands.
Amelie was relentless “By hanging you now we will save a lot of time and expense, and in the circumstances the Captain of a Naval ship at sea has the right to try and sentence enemies of the crown, they call it summery justice in law!”
Robert looked up on hearing this, and for the first time began to understand how clever this pretty woman was. Whatever else happened there was no way that Lord Charles would hang on this ship, he had neither the power nor the right to arrange that, but Lord Charles didn’t know that!
Meanwhile Lord Charles was telling Amelie everything he knew including a list of sympathisers in the hierarchy of the war department and the admiralty, evidently one of the reasons for the frustration of several operations over the past few years.
He called for his clerk, and having seen him settled with pen and paper, left the cabin to Amelie, her broken informant and the clerk, and returned to the clean sea air of the quarterdeck.
Some of the things that seem to be trouble can suddenly become a benefit. So it was with the chasing ships, far from threatening capture the chasing ships were in fact two of the frigates from the blockading fleet, returning from a sweep down coast. By the time Roister and her consort made contact with the flagship the two frigates had rejoined the fleet.
Chapter seventeen
Admiral Keith was anticipating retiring from active service with the Navy and, when Robert reported, he was in high good humour. “I was considering having you transferred to my command.” He said “But as luck would have it I did not need to bother. When I arrive home I will be taking over command of the Preventive service from Admiral Malmby, I understand that you are still under his command and I will in fact take you over with the rest of the department.
In Plymouth, while the ship stored, Robert established contact with Captain Willets.
The Morbihan sailed on direct to Dover to report to Lord Mills, with Amelie Parker and Lord Charles. They anticipated that the cutter would join the fleet operated by the Preventive service.
For Robert the chance to see his beloved Barbara and his new son David was appreciated. Normally in the regular service he could have been away for up to a year at least. As it was, just over two months had elapsed since he had sailed.
The regular gathering at the Half Moon inn was enjoying a convivial evening when the door burst open and Alan Dawson burst in. his uniform was torn and there was blood on his face. Elizabeth cried out when she saw him and rushed over in time to catch him as he staggered and almost fell. “What is this?” she cried “What has happened?”
“It’s Adam Tamar. We were walking down to pay a call here when we were attacked by a bunch of ruffians who seemed to recognise Adam, I did what I could but there were too many for us and they are carrying him off to the fleet they said.”
Sam Callow turned to Judith, “Run round to the Anchor and call Sven Hanson. Tell him help needed at the Fleet inn. Tell him it’s Adam Tamar in trouble; he’ll know.”
Abel Jackson came through with his pistols and a Hanger clipped to his belt. “I’m ready, Sam.”
“Let’s get going. Stay here, Alan, we’ll take over from here.”
Sam and Abel left the Half Moon and strode off through the dark streets. As they passed on the way to the Fleet Inn they met Peter Morse and two of his mates, who joined them as soon as they heard what was happening.
The bar of the Fleet Inn was not a pleasant room at the best of times and fwas ull of a crowd of smoking, drinking men, who smelt trouble and were ready for it. The moment the group came in from the street carrying the struggling figure of Adam Tamar, the air became electric with the taste of suppressed violence.
The crowd looked on expec
tantly waiting to see what would happen.
Adam was tied to a chair whilst his captors called for drink. He sat testing his bonds while blood ran down his face from a wound in his hairline; the bruises on his face were purple patches against his tanned skin. There was fire in his eyes as he swore at the men who had attacked him and brought him here.
“You have made a mistake, Dan Creedy. I always knew you were a coward, took you six men to take me; you never were man enough by yourself.”
The door of the inn opened and Sam Callow walked in followed by Abel Jackson. A hush fell as the two men were recognised. The crowd parted as the two men made their way to the seated figure of Adam Tamar.
Dan Creedy, a big bulky man with his friends all around him, stood to bar their way.
“Stand aside Creedy.” Sam said mildly.
“Who’ll make me?” Creedy was confident.
The back door of the inn opened and Peter and his two shipmates slid in while the attention was on Sam Callow and Creedy. Peter strolled over to Adam and sliced through the ropes binding him to the chair.
It came as an unpleasant shock for Creedy to hear the voice right behind him say, “I will.” The hand that spun him round by the shoulder was not the hand of the sick young man who had sailed away three months ago. It was the hand of a man who had hauled sheets in the wind and rain and learned to reef in a gale as he learned his trade as a master’s mate.
The fist that followed the hand made him aware that it could be more trouble than he had anticipated. A big man, he was confident he could deal with this and he reached out to grab Adam and draw him into a bear hug. He found he was grabbing air and, as he leaned forward off balance for a moment, a fist hit him on the nose and broke it, bringing tears to his eyes and a stream of blood down his chin. He spat and shook his head, spraying blood everywhere. He threw a punch that caught Adam beside the head and threw him against the crowd behind him. They thrust him back towards Creedy, who advanced ready to grab the young man in front of him. Once again that fist came out of nowhere and hit his already broken nose. Creedy cried out in pain, grabbed blindly at Adam and caught him. Clasping his hands behind Adam’s back he crushed him against his chest. Adam was wearing shoes and when he felt the arm start to crush him he lifted his foot and scraped the sharp edge down the shin of his opponent and crushed it on the instep with all the weight he could muster. Creedy howled in agony and released the young man, who stepped back and smashed his fist into the broken nose once more. This caused Creedy pain beyond bearing and he fell to the floor sobbing holding his ruined face.