Merriman and the French Invasion (The Merriman Chronicles Book 2)

by Roger Burnage

  “Incredible news Sir, a great victory, it’s unbelievable, how he did it I don’t know but the news is all over Portsmouth. They probably don’t know yet in London”

  “Calm down Mr Weston, calm down and tell us what has happened.”

  “Yes Sir, it seems that a brig arrived here this morning carrying despatches from the channel fleet and it’s true, Sir Edward in the frigate Indefatigable caught the French warship, a three decker named Droits De L’Homme on its own, attacked it and drove it ashore.”

  “A three decker by God. What else do you know? Was Pellew’s, I mean Sir Edward’s ship the only English warship involved?”

  “No Sir, another frigate, Amazon, came up later and between them they engaged the French. There was a full gale blowing and on the evening of the first day the French lost their mizzen mast and on the second day, in the early morning, land was seen and Sir Edward broke off the action as they were on a lee shore. Because of damage Amazon and Droits de L’Homme couldn’t beat to seaward and both went aground Sir. Oh, and apparently the despatch mentioned that the French ship was carrying a large number of troops.”

  “Do you think it could have been a part of the fleet trying to invade Ireland Sir?” asked Shrigley.

  “It might have been Alfred but we may never know. It was a remarkable action all the same, the more remarkable when you consider the difference in size and firepower between the ships. Normally a frigate would never dare to engage a three decker.”

  It was confirmed later that the action took place in Audierne Bay south of Brest. Droits De L’Homme was indeed part of that ill-fated French fleet and was one of the last to leave Bantry Bay. She had over seven hundred soldiers on board. Due to the severity of the gale the French warship had been unable to open her lower gunports for fear of being swamped which reduced the weight of her broadside to no more than that of Indefatigable. A total of more than nine hundred men, soldiers and sailors died, many of the rest being left aboard the wreck for four or five days before rescue. The Amazon lost only a few men, most of the crew managing to get ashore on rafts although they became prisoners of war.

  Chapter 27: The final accounting, Dorrington is shot

  Two weeks later the ship was still lying at anchor in Portsmouth harbour while they waited for Mr Grahame to return. So long after Dorrington’s escape nobody now really expected anything to happen. At first there was great interest and wagers were made as to how long it would be before he was caught, but as time passed most people presumed he was far away.

  As ordered, extra guards had been posted but as nothing out of the ordinary happened the men and marines were beginning to lose their earlier keenness and it took repeated threats from the marine corporals and petty officers to subdue the sulky mutterings of the men about the extra duty.

  Sam Gibbons was a ‘good enough’ sort of man. His marine uniform was always just good enough for inspection, his equipment was always just good enough for inspection and his musket was the despair of the sergeant and corporals. When the marines were paraded the sergeant made him stand in the rear rank in the hope that he would not be noticed.

  “Out of sight my lad, but not out of my mind, you lazy bugger,” was the sergeant’s repeated comment.

  In short, Sam Gibbons was far from the smartest man, either mentally or physically. True, he had twice reached the dizzy heights of corporal’s rank but very quickly lost his stripes due to drunkenness and disorderly conduct. If there had been such a thing as a bad conduct medal, he would have won it several times over.

  On this particular night, an extra swig of illegally hoarded rum on top of what he had absorbed earlier meant that he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open. He was posted on the quarter-deck and had heard the sounds coming from the great cabin as Merriman entertained his officers. Now all was quiet below as they had retired for the night.

  Gibbons bitterly resented the fact that he had to be on guard at all and with the old soldier’s ability to sleep on his feet he did just that, leaning against the rail.

  A faint bump against the side of the ship below him roused him enough to peer over the side but all he could see in the dark was an old boat with what appeared to be a bundle of canvas on the bottom. The only thought that passed briefly through his fuddled mind was that some careless fool had lost his boat, and then he was asleep again.

  He never saw the shadowy figure clad in marine uniform climbing aboard and he never felt the bayonet thrust up through his stomach and into his heart. One brief convulsion and he was dead.

  Dorrington smiled to himself. He had felt an almost sensual pleasure as the man died and it had been so easy and he blessed his forethought in grinding and sharpening the bayonet to a needle point which could slide into flesh without difficulty. He stood still for a moment looking down at the corpse, his clouded mind wondering why he had killed the man. It was evident that neither the marine on the other side of the quarter deck or anyone else had heard the disturbance but the sound of a man coughing brought him to his senses. Quickly and quietly pushing Gibbons’ body in the deep shadows behind the loops and coils of rope hanging from the fife rail at the foot of the mizzen mast where it would not be seen until daylight, he picked up the man’s hat and musket and stood in his place, staring out at the lights ashore.

  He was just in time, for the corporal of the guard was making the rounds of the sentries. Fortunately for Dorrington the corporal was drowsy and seeing a figure in marine uniform contented himself with a quick glance. Merely asking “Alright Gibbons? Keep yer bloody eyes open.”

  Dorrington simply grunted an unintelligible reply and the corporal moved on and disappeared below. The murderer relaxed, knowing that he had at least half an hour before the corporal came up again. He stood awhile, marking in his mind where the other sentries were. He recognised the officer of the watch, Weston, who was on the fo’c’s’le talking with midshipman Hungerford. The two of them faintly illuminated by the light coming from the fo’rrard companionway.

  For a moment Dorrington savoured to himself the thought of the pleasure he could have from sliding his bayonet between Hungerford’s ribs but he was after bigger game. Captain Merriman was below, probably fast asleep by now and he was the one that deserved to be killed, preferably slowly and in great pain. Dorrington sighed, knowing that he would have to content himself with a simple thrust of the bayonet because he must make no noise if he were to escape again, although he had given no real thought to escaping after the deed was done. He was sane enough to know that he would probably be caught sometime and would hang, but somehow he didn’t care, his crazed mind concentrating on one thing, to kill Merriman.

  Completely unobserved he moved down the steps from the quarter-deck to the main deck and in through the door leading to the flat outside the captain’s and officers cabins. In the half light and shadows cast by a single lantern, the marine on guard outside the captain’s quarters noticed nothing wrong when another marine in full uniform approached him.

  “You’re early mate, I thought I had another hour to go.”

  “No you haven’t, you’ve no time at all” whispered Dorrington as he thrust the bayonet home once more.

  The man collapsed, Dorrington held him but was unable to catch the man’s musket which hit the deck with a clatter. Surprisingly nobody was disturbed by the noise and all was quiet. He slid the bayonet back into the scabbard without even wiping off the dead man’s blood. Taking a chance he cautiously opened the door to the captains quarters, listened for a moment and then slowly dragged the body inside, picked up the fallen musket and closed the door behind him.

  He was in a sort of lobby with the door to the great cabin ahead of him with a light shining from underneath it, and the open door to the captain’s sleeping quarters on his right. No sound came from the small cabin, neither snoring nor even breathing so Dorrington peeped round the doorpost. Even in the gloom it was obvious that the cot was empty. He turned back to the other door and slowly turned the
handle and pushed the door open, startled to hear Merriman’s voice.

  “Ah, Mr Dorrington, I’ve been expecting you. Do sit down while we talk.”

  Merriman was sitting behind the table in the centre of the cabin, holding a large book in front of him. Obviously he had been reading. The captain’s calm acceptance of his presence bewildered Dorrington.

  “But, but I’ve come here to kill you, you bastard, not talk.”

  “Oh yes, I know all about that Arthur, but we must talk first.”

  The casual use of his Christian name un-nerved Dorrington even more and before he knew what he was doing he sat down.

  Merriman continued, “How about a glass of claret to steady your nerves?”

  Dorrington nodded dumbly and accepted the glass offered to him. Merriman leaned back in his chair and raised his glass. “Your health Mr Dorrington.”

  Dorrington giggled before he drank. Surely the fool didn’t think talking would save him. It would all be so easy, all was quiet and the captain was sitting there defenceless.

  “D’you know Arthur, your mother loves you still. Your uncle tells me that she is heartbroken knowing what you have done. ”

  Mention of his mother roused Dorrington to anger.

  “I wouldn’t have done any of it if you’d treated me and my title with respect. You forced me to do it with your stupid rules and regulations so I’ve you to blame for ruining my life.”

  He giggled again as he realised he had outwitted everybody and had the captain at his mercy.

  He stood up and tugged at the bayonet at his belt. He giggled again as he anticipated thrusting the weapon into Merriman’s stomach, but it resisted a little due to the drying blood on the blade. The door to the pantry crashed open to reveal Tomkins with a carving knife in his hand. “I ‘eard it all Sir. Dorrington you evil bugger, I’ll ‘ave you.” Tomkins moved forward.

  Dorrington turned towards him, looked down at the bayonet, momentarily perplexed, then tugged harder. Out it came just in time to deflect Tomkins’ blow and with a quick stab pierced the man’s arm. He turned back to see Merriman still sitting there but now he held a pistol aimed at Dorrington’s heart.

  ‘Don’t force me to use this Arthur, put that down and surrender to me.”

  “Surrender, surrender to you, I’ll see you in hell first, damn you.”

  He lunged forward, Merriman fired and the heavy pistol ball flung him backwards and he dropped. His last thought was disappointment that he had failed, then he thought nothing more. He was dead.

  The other door was flung open and Lieutenants Andrews and Weston, each with a pistol at the ready, burst in and stopped dead at the sight of Dorrington in a crumpled heap before them.

  “It’s all right Gentlemen, it’s all over now,” said Merriman calmly.

  “My God Sir, he got to you, when did he – I mean how did he, has he - ?” Andrews stopped, aghast at the thought that in spite of their precautions Dorrington had so nearly succeeded in his aim of murdering their captain.

  “I’m unharmed David, but I fear that poor Tomkins received a nasty wound in the arm when he tried to help me.”

  As the other officers crowded into the cabin to see what had happened Merriman continued, “Ah, Doctor, I fear that Mr Dorrington is beyond your help but please see to Tomkins if you will.

  “Now Mr St James, how did Dorrington get past your marine guards and sentries?”

  The horrified officer could do no more than gasp, “I don’t know Sir, but we have two dead men. One on deck and one outside your door. I’m very sorry Sir that we were found wanting in our duty to protect you.”

  “Very well, I’ll speak to you later. Mr Weston, you are officer of the watch I believe. I’ll speak to you later as well. In the meanwhile be good enough to have some men remove the body. I’ll take it ashore in the morning.”

  Andrews was bursting with questions. “Sir, were you expecting Dorrington, I mean, obviously you had not retired as you are still dressed. Did you know he was aboard?”

  “No David I didn’t, but I’m not surprised. I knew how much he wanted to kill me so I thought it wise to take precautions. That’s why I had a pistol primed and ready. And now if you’ll all leave I think I’ll try and get some sleep.”

  However, sleep would not come and Merriman tossed and turned in his cot with the thoughts of how near he had come to being murdered in his sleep keeping him awake. So in the morning it was a very tired and angry man who gave both St James and Weston the biggest dressing down either had ever received in their career. Neither man could offer a defence and Merriman dismissed them with a few more well-chosen words of censure.

  Later Merriman had himself rowed to the landing steps in the cutter with Midshipman Hungerford at the tiller.. It was an uncomfortable journey with the canvas swathed body in the bottom of the boat to remind them all of what had happened.

  Before Merriman climbed the water worn steps he cautioned Hungerford and the men not to gossip with any of the loungers on shore. “I’ll see that someone comes down to take the body but I want no wild stories spread around.”

  At Admiral FitzHerbert’s office he had to wait no more than a few minutes before he was ushered in by the same harassed Lieutenant Williams as before. The Admiral greeted him warmly.

  “Captain Merriman, this is a pleasure. Williams, wine for the Captain.”

  “Thank you Sir, but no, I think you should hear what I have to tell you first.”

  “Oh, indeed,” said the Admiral with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yes Sir. It’s about your nephew Arthur.” Merriman drew a deep breath. “He’s dead Sir, I shot him last night.”

  “Oh my God, how did this happen?”

  Merriman told the full story, how Dorrington must have climbed aboard, the murder of two marines and the confrontation in the great cabin with the wounding of Tomkins when he tried to defend his captain. “Really Sir, I believe I had no option and I’m sure that he was quite mad at the end. He must have known he was doomed and would hang when caught. It was fortunate for me that I was still awake and reading otherwise I don’t think I would be alive now.”

  “You’re right Captain. There will have to be an enquiry but as he was an escaped murderer it will only be a formality. I’ll send somebody down to collect his body which can be disposed of quietly.” The Admiral sighed, “I’m sorry I inflicted him on you in the first place. It’s probably for the best that it fell out this way, if he had been captured there is no doubt that he would have hanged. No blame will be attached to you but I shall require your written report of course.”

  “I have it here Sir.”

  “Very good Captain. I understand that you will be leaving soon. Your friend Mr Grahame was here only yesterday and he told me that he will be joining your ship today and expects to leave immediately. Where for he wouldn’t say, so may I wish you good fortune and again offer my thanks for the way you acted in this whole sad business.”

  Mr Grahame was aboard when Merriman returned to Lord Stevenage and later that day the ship faced the open sea bound for the South, on its way to new adventures.

  The end

  Historical notes:

  It is a matter of historical fact that the French attempted an invasion of Ireland in 1796 but were defeated by the gales which scattered the fleet before any troops were landed. The fleet did not reassemble.

  It is also historically true that Sir Edward Pellew’s frigate Indefatigable and the frigate Amazon did defeat the greatly superior French warship Droits De L’Homme, driving her ashore with great loss of life. The Amazon was also lost in this action.

  Further attempts were made by the French in 1797 and 1798. In 1798 they actually did manage to get a force ashore which was defeated at the battle of Vinegar Hill. They never tried again.

  Wolfe Tone, the Irish patriot or rebel, (depending on one’s point of view) was captured and only escaped hanging by committing suicide in prison.

  All characters are fictional except for the Fre
nch generals and admirals who really existed and were in command of the French forces at the time. Mr. White also existed and was knighted for his services to the crown. The White family still live at Bantry House where there is a small museum with artefacts from this event.