by Chris Durbin
The commander of the French ships had made repeated demands that they be allowed to escape, to preserve this significant squadron to fight another day, but the governor knew that it was only those ships that prevented Boscawen’s squadron sailing into the harbour and battering the poorly defended northern walls.
Relations between the French governor and the commander of the French naval forces had never been good and under the stress of siege they deteriorated. Conceding to pressure, the governor agreed that Aréthuse may make its escape. This was a blow to the morale of the defenders because it was only this brave frigate, of all the French naval forces, that had made a significant contribution to the defence of the fortress. Its shallow draft had allowed it to anchor far to the western end of the harbour, close to the encroaching British. The frigate’s continuous bombardment of the advancing lines had substantially slowed the progress of the siege works. Daring sailors, under continuous fire, had taken it in turns to direct the frigate’s fire from the dangerous peak of the main topmast head.
Aréthuse slipped away at night, passing through the sunken blockships and suffering the fire of Wolfe’s batteries on Lighthouse Point. Despite being hit in the stern by British twenty-four-pound balls, the gallant frigate reached Bayonne safely, and its precious dispatches were hurried away to Versailles.
Aréthuse left just in time. On the twenty-first of July Célèbre, anchored close to the quay at Louisbourg, was hit by a mortar bomb that ignited powder charges stored on the poop deck. The wind carried sparks to the sails of Entreprenant and Capricieux, both of which rapidly began to burn, and soon repeated explosions rocked the town and the harbour. The French naval commander, the Marquis des Gouttes, now had only two ships-of-the-line remaining, Prudent and Bienfaisant, and their time was running out.
***
‘Take a seat, Captain,’ said Boscawen as Carlisle was ushered into the great cabin on Namur. It was like no other admiral’s accommodation that he’d ever seen. Every flat surface was covered: charts, maps, plans, documents, drawings, lists, books; every kind of document that was needed for the planning of a campaign littered the table, the benches, the chairs and even the deck. Sir Charles Hardy was already there and looked as though he had been for some time. A staff officer – a soldier Carlisle noted – swept aside a sketch of the harbour entrance to make a space for him. He and the other soldiers and sea-officers tactfully withdrew as the Admiral nodded in their direction. Evidently, this was to be a private conversation, just the two admirals and himself. Carlisle quelled a momentary nervousness. There was nothing in his conduct or Medina’s that warranted censure, so it must be something else. Chiara perhaps. Had Boscawen or Hardy heard news of his wife, bad news? No, it couldn’t be that. Hardy, as his immediate superior would have told him himself; Boscawen was far too elevated, and far too busy, for that kind of interview. Then it must be some special sensitive duty, Carlisle’s heart beat faster.
‘You know the general situation, Carlisle. Louisbourg must fall soon but the French governor, de Drucour, is being obstinate. Every day he delays his capitulation, Amherst loses more men.’
‘As do we,’ interrupted Hardy. ‘My squadron hasn’t recovered from the late spring; I know that Colville’s men are dropping like flies.’
‘Quite, Sir Charles,’ said Boscawen showing no hint of annoyance at the interruption. Evidently, these two men had a good working relationship. ‘These soldiers have their own notions of right and wrong. Apparently, there hasn’t yet been sufficient destruction and bloodshed for Monsieur Drucour to surrender the fortress and retain his honour.’
Boscawen looked away. Was he mourning the useless loss of life, Carlisle wondered, or was he preparing the next part of his speech?
‘Now this part is a secret, although in God’s name, the French must have guessed it,’ he walked closer to Carlisle and Hardy so that he didn’t need to raise his voice. ‘My orders, mine and General Amherst’s, state that we must endeavour to carry our forces up the St. Lawrence to Quebec before the end of the season.’
Carlisle had heard that rumour, but he was surprised to hear that it was still being spoken of as a real possibility. Here they were at the back end of July and Louisbourg’s walls were still standing, yet the joint commanders were considering the capture of Quebec in the next… how long? Three months maximum before the bad weather set in again.
‘So, you see, we must end this affair as soon as possible. The soldiers won’t do it, they’re moving at a snail’s pace, all except that youngster Wolfe. I find there’s a theatre to these sieges, as formalised as a Greek tragedy, and our friends in the army are reluctant to forego any act or scene of the play.’
So that was it, thought Carlisle. Boscawen was trying to move the siege along at a faster pace than the army thought quite proper.
‘Louisbourg’s weakest point is its side facing the harbour.’ Boscawen didn’t use a map, presumably assuming that Carlisle was aware of the geography of the fortress and its surroundings. ‘It’s always been their weakness and that’s why they tried so hard to have a strong squadron in the harbour before we arrived.’
Hardy was trying not to look smug. It was his early arrival – facilitated by Colville’s masterpiece of organisation and willpower in maintaining the squadron in Halifax over the winter – that had prevented the French from carrying out their plan. Hardy, and of course Hawke in the Channel and Osborn in the Mediterranean. In a moment of clarity, Carlisle glimpsed the entirety of Pitt’s plan, the moves and countermoves that would culminate in a final battle for New France.
‘They’re down to two of the line now, not a tactically useful force but one that is preventing Drucour from surrendering: Prudent and Bienfaisant. If we can take, burn or in any other way destroy those two, then we may be able to shorten this siege by a month. Then there is a possibility – and only a possibility – that we’ll be able to move up the St. Lawrence before the weather beats us again. Then, if the French have any sense at all, we can end this war a year or two earlier than otherwise.’
Boscawen seemed satisfied with his speech, perhaps – no, certainly – he’d delivered it a few times already. He paused for a moment. He then nodded significantly at Hardy and made a curious motion with his right hand, his fist clenched with his thumb pointing upwards in the manner of a Roman emperor deciding the fate of a gladiator. Hardy nodded in reply.
‘Ye’ll be wondering why you’re here, Carlisle,’ said Hardy, ‘other than to hear a pair of admirals give you their view of the world.’ Hardy smiled as for just a moment Boscawen looked like a man caught acting a part.
Carlisle inclined his head cautiously. Hardy’s statement seemed to require an answer.
‘I had wondered, Sir Charles.’
Boscawen broke in. ‘We’ll be cutting them out tomorrow night,’ he said, ‘or rather you will, you and two commanders. You’ll lead the expedition.’
‘And if you’re wondering why you’re here and they’re not,’ added Hardy in his forthright manner, ‘it’s because the commanders are already well known to the admiral, whereas you,’ and he bowed to his superior admiral, ‘are known to Mister Boscawen only by reputation. In an enterprise such as this, reputation is an insufficient recommendation, but now you are known.’
***
‘Then, if you’ll follow me,’ said Hardy.
They rose to leave the great cabin. Boscawen shook hands with Carlisle, but it was clear that his mind was elsewhere, perhaps planning the next move after the cutting-out expedition.
Hardy led him to what he assumed must be the captain’s day-cabin, although the geography of these three-deckers was a mystery to Carlisle; he’d only been on board two before, Byng’s Ramillies after the Battle of Minorca and Royal William in Boston. At that moment Carlisle remembered that it had been Boscawen who’d signed the warrant for the execution of Admiral Byng. Did he know that Carlisle had been one of Byng’s captains at Minorca? Almost certainly so, he assumed, although the admiral had shown no sign
of knowing it. Perhaps the command of such a huge proportion of Britain’s naval power gave him a comfortingly thick skin where it came to the matter of personal relations.
‘Much of the planning has already been completed,’ said Hardy. ‘I regret that you’re something of an afterthought. Let me explain.’
An afterthought! That was a strange way to introduce the commander of an expedition to the plan.
‘There will be two divisions, of course, one for each of the ships to be cut out. The commanders of those divisions have already been appointed, and today they carried out a reconnaissance of the harbour. Their report is encouraging; it can be done with a reasonable degree of risk. Perhaps you know the two gentlemen? Commander Balfour of the Aetna fireship and Commander Laforey, presently without a ship.’
Carlisle shook his head. ‘I have not had that honour,’ he said stiffly.
Hardy looked sharply at Carlisle.
‘Now look here, Captain,’ he said, emphasising Carlisle’s rank. ‘I recommended you to Boscawen because you’ve shown that you’re prepared to roll your sleeves up and crack on with things. You’ve done well in similar situations, at Lighthouse Point, at St. Philip’s in Minorca and in the Caribbean.’
Hardy glared hard at Carlisle.
‘Yet there’s a dozen, no three or four dozen other post-captains who would give an arm or a leg to take this command. I selected you as the best person for the job, but if you choose not to take this command, then you may leave now.’
Hardy had a reputation for straight-talking and Carlisle had seen flashes of it before, but this was the first time that he was on the receiving end of one of his famous blasts. He managed not to stammer in his reply.
‘My apologies, sir. Of course, I’m honoured to take this command, and I’ll be delighted to meet these two gentlemen.’
Hardy nodded, and his face lost its grim aspect. He was mercurial, this Rear Admiral, and his anger dissipated as fast as it grew.
‘Very well,’ he continued. ‘Now, as I was saying, there will be two divisions, each of around twenty-five boats.’
Carlisle was starting to see where he came into this plan. An expedition of that size and of such importance merited a post-captain to command it. It seemed that the truth of it had only dawned on Boscawen and Hardy after the two commanders had reported from their reconnaissance.
‘Each ship-of-the-line will provide two boats and each frigate one. Northumberland only will be exempted due to the sickness among Colville’s people. The cutting-out crews will be primarily composed of seamen armed with pistols, cutlasses, tomahawks and boarding pikes. There’ll be a few marines in case there’s any organised resistance, but there must be enough seamen to bring those ships out. You’ll be in overall command of the expedition, Carlisle, and you’ll have Namur’s longboat with two guns and as many marines as she’ll carry, along with signal lanterns and a means of displaying them. You’ll coordinate the efforts of Balfour and Laforey, re-allocate boats as you see fit, and ensure the success of the enterprise.’
Carlisle thought for a moment. He knew nothing of these two commanders. Now was the time to get Hardy’s opinion.
‘Can you tell me anything about Mister Balfour and Mister Laforey? I regret our paths have never crossed, nor have I heard mention of their names.’
‘Certainly. I interviewed them and I flatter myself that I know their characters. Balfour is the older, perhaps a little older than you,’ he said, looking at Carlisle appraisingly. ‘I’ve known him for several years; you could call him something of a follower of mine.’
That’s worth knowing, thought Carlisle; Balfour’s been given this opportunity to prove himself in a most public way by his mentor. The prospects for promotion had started to close off in a Navy that was near its maximum size, and this would be a real chance for him to shine.
‘He’s had Aetna for two years and is aching to be posted. He’s energetic and bold and he’ll dare anything. He may need a restraining hand. His division will board Bienfaisant the sixty-four.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘I only met Laforey yesterday. He had the sloop Hunter on Lake Ontario until we were kicked out of there. He’s been on Boscawen’s staff waiting for employment such as this. I would say he’s as much younger than you as Balfour is older. He’ll take Prudent, the seventy-four. Oh, and he was with last year’s expedition to Louisbourg, so he knows these waters well.’
Don’t we all, thought Carlisle but wisely kept his peace. So, both of his divisional commanders came with the personal recommendations of the two admirals. Carlisle just hoped that they would live up to their mentors’ expectations.
‘The batteries will fire continuously once your flotilla is underway, to try to keep the enemy’s attention on the land. If you are detected before the boats reach their objectives, it will be for you to decide whether to continue with the boarding, but I have this point to make.’
Hardy paused for effect and stabbed the air with his finger.
‘It is of the utmost importance that those ships are brought out or destroyed. To that end, casualties are to be expected. Do we understand each other, Captain Carlisle?’ he asked with a certain formality.
‘I understand, sir,’ replied Carlisle, his eyes never wavering from the admiral’s. He was being given the authority to press home the attack even at the cost of a high number of casualties.
‘Then I’ll give you the rest of today to lay your plans. There’s a cabin here if you need it. I know that your first lieutenant – Moxon, isn’t it? – is a safe pair of hands while you’re gone. I’ll send Balfour and Laforey in to see you when you’re ready. Tomorrow forenoon at two bells the commanders of each of the boats will gather in the great cabin. Admiral Boscawen will introduce you, and then the show is yours. In the meantime, if you need anything, ask Captain Buckle.’
And with that Hardy was gone, back to his responsibilities for maintaining the blockade of Louisbourg harbour while Boscawen’s main force attended to supporting the siege.
***
Carlisle was nervous. He’d never commanded anything on this scale before. The Lighthouse Point expedition came close, but it had been an essentially logistic operation; there was no expectation that they would have to fight. But tonight, he’d have to take fifty-one boats – fifty-two counting his own – and six hundred men into action with every expectation of taking casualties and with a fleet and an army waiting for news of his success. He tried to look as though he did this kind of thing every day.
He watched the flood of people entering the cabin. Each boat was commanded by a lieutenant, a master’s mate or a midshipman, and some had a second in command. With Balfour and Laforey he had a total of fifty-five officers, each of whom introduced himself before taking a seat. There were young men and old men, some shockingly young and some old enough to be their fathers. Some men were clearly looking forward to the night, and there were others who were failing to keep the concern from their faces. A few of them Carlisle recognised but most were entirely unknown to him.
He’d been pleasantly surprised by his two immediate subordinates. Both Balfour and Laforey were the type of sea-officers that Carlisle liked; they were open to advice and eager to engage with the enemy, like greyhounds in the slips, as Shakespeare would have had it.
When all the officers were seated, a flag lieutenant opened the door and nodded significantly at Carlisle.
‘Gentlemen,’ he said to the rows of expectant faces.
As one, they stood for their commander-in-chief. One midshipman at the back pushed over his chair with a clatter and blushed bright red. He was probably the youngest officer there and Carlisle at that moment hoped with a surprising intensity that he’d survive the night.
Boscawen stood aside and to Carlisle’s surprise, he saw General Amherst’s tall figure stoop under the lintel and walk with a deliberate pace to the curtained stern windows. They were followed by Hardy, who winked conspiratorially at Carlisle. Carlisle could only guess w
hat that wink meant, but it could have meant, look who I’ve brought to meet you and enhance your career prospects.
Boscawen was brief. He introduced Amherst who said a few words about the importance of the mission, then he spoke himself and introduced Carlisle. Then, as swiftly and mysteriously as they had appeared, the two joint commanders of the Louisbourg expedition trooped out again leaving the gathering of sea-officers with the feeling that, just for a moment, the Gods had come down from Mount Olympus to address the mere mortals.
***
Carlisle’s briefing was short. Flanked by his two divisional commanders, who looked suitably deferential, he described his plan for attacking the two ships. Stealth, of course, was the key. No weapon was to be cocked or half-cocked until they were on the enemy’s deck or until their presence was detected. The two divisions were to pass through the entrance simultaneously, following Carlisle’s boat that would show a red light astern. Carlisle would take the well-defined route past the sunken blockships. The French had been in such a hurry to get the job done that the scuttled ships’ masts were visible above the surface. He described the signals that the divisional commanders were to make and the signals that he’d make. Finally, he emphasised the need for speed, stealth and aggressive action when they boarded the ships.
‘Then, gentlemen, I’ll leave Captain Balfour and Captain Laforey to each brief their own divisions. I’ll offer you this final thought: Prudent and Bienfaisant are the last elements of French naval power in these waters. When we have taken or burned them, the governor of Louisbourg will have no hope left. His fortress must fall in the following days, and we will have struck a mighty blow for our cause.’
***