Dead Reckoning (15 page)

“Thank you, sir. I do understand that you have to leave a commissioned officer on board the ship. I exchanged a word just now, however, with Mr Greenwell. I think he would be willing, sir, to take my place.”

“Indeed. I wonder why?”

“He thought, sir, that my prospects in the service are better than his. It may be, also, that he is not feeling well.”

“If sick he would do better to tell me about it. As for you taking his place, I will not agree to it. I have good reason to allocate the duties as I think best. I have to make decisions. I do not have to defend them in argument. Your request, Mr North-more, is refused.”

Delancey turned to Fitzgerald after Northmore had gone, saying:

“I don't much like the sound of this.”

“Nor do I, sir.”

“I am not changing my plans, however, nor shall I allow my officers to exchange their duties. We shall attack the stockade at daybreak tomorrow.”

T
HE COLUMN of boats was ascending the Kapuas River under cover of darkness. Ahead of the rest went a native canoe with Tedong as guide, bearing a white flag just visible to the next boat, in which Delancey had embarked together with Lieutenant Sevendale of the Royal Marines, Midshipmen Forrest and Ledingham (the former as A.D.C.), the master-at-arms, the boat's crew, the sergeant, and twenty marines. Behind this boat was towed another native canoe with the other Dyak, Sochon, on board. Next came the cutter, with Mr Woodley, Mr Burnet, and twenty-four seamen—the party detailed to make the feint attack on the left. Then came the launch, commanded by Mr Fitzgerald with Mr Topley and Mr Stock and manned by thirty-eight men in all. Last of all came the other cutter with twenty-six seamen led by Mr Greenwell. Mr Northmore had been left with over seventy men in the
Laura
but of that total twenty or more were sick. Complete silence had been ordered and all that could be heard was the dipping of the oars.

Lower down the river the jungle had hedged the river
on either side but this gave place presently to signs of cultivation. A small village was dimly seen, its houses built over the water, and then some huts built on a headland. At last, with the first hint of daybreak, Tedong let his canoe drift back and, coming alongside Delancey's boat, indicated to a point ahead where the river seemed to narrow. There were several lights shown there on either side and others, further back, hinted at the presence of a kampong. This was evidently the site of the stockade and Delancey passed the word back for Mr Woodley. As soon as the cutter was alongside, Delancey pointed left and gave the order to advance. Guided by Tedong, the boat went into the bank and disappeared from sight.

After a few minutes Delancey went forward again but more slowly, keeping to midstream and with stringent orders about avoiding noise. The sky ahead was now appreciably lighter with silver now tinged with pink. After what seemed an age there was a single musket shot on the left, followed later by the lighting of a flare. This was the signal for Fitzgerald's boat to draw level with Delancey who pointed right and whispered “Good luck!” Five minutes after the launch had gone in, Delancey told the last boat to follow. Then he told his oarsmen to resume rowing and his coxswain to hold course down the centre of the river, at the same time detaching Sochon, whose canoe headed into the shore on the right. So far all had gone according to plan with a growing sound of cannon and musketry on either bank, later punctuated by the harsher bang of the bursting grenades. Delancey thought to himself that he had gained at least a measure of surprise.

It was growing lighter every minute and the stockades were clearly visible on either side with the boom still in position across the river. The rattle of musketry continued but he could see no activity at the right-hand end of the boom. Adjusting his telescope, he could see the windlass to which the main cable was led but no attempt had been made to cut it. When Tedong returned from his mission on the left, Delancey turned to Midshipman Ledingham, and told him that the main attack was seemingly at a standstill. “I don't know what has happened,” he
went on calmly, “but I think it possible that Mr Greenwell has been wounded and that his party is hanging back, leaderless. I want you to go ashore in Tedong's canoe, take command of that group, move up to the stockade—which Mr Fitzgerald's men should have cleared—and cut the boom at that end. Off you go and—good luck!”

Good luck was what the boy would need and Delancey knew all too little about his capabilities. He could spare nobody else, however, and played almost the only card he had. He had thought wildly for a moment of leading Greenwell's party himself but he remembered in time that his target was not the stockade but the privateer. He must be ready to lead through in person when the boom had gone. Meanwhile, however, the sound of musketry had begun to slacken and he had the dismal impression that the momentum of the attack had been lost. Outwardly impassive, he thought unhappily of all the things which might have gone wrong. Had there been a second stockade behind the first or had the first one been guarded by a ditch lined with sharp bamboo points? Had Fitzgerald been killed or had his men lost their sense of direction? What could be happening and why did nobody think to tell him what the position was?

He would have liked to recall Mr Woodley from his feint attack on the left but he doubted whether this were possible. But then he had another idea. Could the feint attack become a real one? He wished now that he had another twenty men in hand. He could then have reinforced Woodley and so regained the initiative. All he could do now was to provide Woodley with new orders, which became possible now with the return of Tedong in his canoe.

“Mr Forrest,” he said, “I want you to go ashore with Tedong
here and find Mr Woodley. The attack on the right has not so far succeeded. The boom is still in position. So I want Mr Woodley to attack the boom at his end, on the left. He is not equipped for cutting the cable so you will take an axe with you—here it is—and give Mr Woodley what help you can. Off with you!”

After Forrest had gone, Delancey could only wait and curse himself for keeping so small a reserve. Firing had largely died away, with silence on the left and only a few scattered shots on the right. Delancey began to suspect that the whole operation had failed, his men having been launched against a stronger force in a well-fortified position which he had failed properly to reconnoitre. His temptation was to lead his marines against the boom but he resisted it. With the boom still there his boat would be brought to a standstill and would come under fire from either bank. That way lay certain defeat. Or was he defeated already? To the strain of worry was added the further strain of appearing confident and unconcerned.

The day was growing hotter as the sun rose above the treetops. He turned to make conversation with his dour marine officer, Mr Sevendale:

“The cool of the day is over.”

“Aye, sir, and the heat of the battle is still to come.”

“Very true. We have so far been fighting the Malays. I have left the French to you.”

“I doubt if they will stand up to us. Privateersmen fight for money if they fight at all. There is no future for these men and they must know it.”

“I hope we can soon come to grips with them.”

“We have to be patient, sir. In a land campaign half our time is spent in doing nothing. One has to grow used to it.”

“I suspect, however, that the French have been active. They will by now have warped the
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athwart the river and mounted half her guns ashore.”

“No doubt of it, sir. Might I be allowed to make a suggestion? If her broadside covers the river I think we should land at a point which is almost out of range, attack on the left and capture the guns that are mounted there. She will then be under an enfilade fire and will have to strike her colours.”

“Why attack on the left?”

“You told us, sir, that the buildings and kampong are on the right.”

“Yes, that was what Ellis said. I think your suggestion is a good one and I like your idea of turning their own plan against them. We shall follow your advice. What shall we do, however, if the
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is seen to starboard, bows-on, with her broadside brought to bear on the opposite bank of the river?”

“Our plan in that event should be to land well below her on the right and capture the guns placed on that side. She will then be under an enfilade fire but at even closer range.”

“Agreed. Where should we be without the Royal Marines?”

They discussed the alternative plan in greater detail, allocating specific tasks to individual men. By the time each man knew what he had to do some ten minutes had passed. Then the battle quite suddenly revived on the right with heavy fire and the sound of cheering. Watching through his telescope, Delancey saw, at last, a hand-to-hand conflict at the end of the boom. Cutlasses flashed, pistols were fired, and bodies fell into the water. A minute later he could see the rise and fall of an axe. Men cheered again as the last strands parted and the boom swung down-stream, hinged on the other bank. On Delancey's order the oarsmen began to row and the coxswain steered a course
midstream, passing just clear of the boom as it drifted past.

The last phase of the action had begun and all depended now on the good direction and sustained momentum of Delancey's attack. From the right flank came the sound of desultory firing, as if Fitzgerald were exploiting his success. From the left flank by contrast there came no sound at all. Ahead, the shining river was empty, curving, gradually to the left. As the oars plunged in rhythm Sevendale ordered his marines to fix bayonets. Five minutes later the river curved to the right and there, ahead of them, was the
Subtile,
unrigged and moored across the river. The privateersmen sighted the boat at the same time and opened fire at long range. Delancey told the coxswain to steer into the shore on their left. Within a matter of minutes he drew his sword and led his party ashore. There was no jungle at this point, nearly opposite the village, but a succession of small fields, some planted with padi and others grazed by goats.

Leaving two older seamen with the boat, Delancey ordered six others to act as scouts, he following them at the head of the marines. He came across startled Malays who scuttled away in panic but there was no sort of resistance to his march. After ten minutes, however, he was surprised to hear the French cannon open fire again and wondered what their target could be. Cannon boomed repeatedly and he could smell the powder as the advance continued. At one moment he was blundering through a hen-run, at another he was all but falling over a solitary pig. In such close country it was impossible to see more than a few yards ahead but it was easy to keep parallel with the river and as easy to guess from the gunfire how far they had still to go.

When the sound was deafeningly close the seamen ahead of him fell back a little and Delancey halted the marines. “Rest for three minutes,” he said and the men sat down, checked their
priming, and regained their breath. Going forward cautiously, Delancey peered round a tree and saw the enemy's position. There was the
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with her broadside wreathed in smoke, firing down the river (but at what, for heaven's sake?).

Nearer at hand were three cannon in position on a low headland, so placed as to cross the fire of four more cannon on the opposite side of the river. These were not in action but all were manned by Frenchmen and a young officer was busy with a telescope. Delancey went back to the marines, deployed now at regular intervals. “Fifty yards to your front,” he said to Seven-dale. “When you are ready—attack!”

“Advance!” said the marine officer and led his men forward at a steady pace. Delancey followed with his armed seamen three on either side of him. Two minutes later Sevendale shouted “Charge!” At that instant Delancey burst through some bushes and saw the marines already among the French seamen, who had been taken by surprise, few of them even armed.

While the French were killed or captured, Delancey's men manned the nearest cannon and aimed it at the privateer's stern, some twenty yards distant. To miss at that range was impossible and the first shot went through the
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from stern to forecastle. By then the marines had the other two guns swung round in turn, one aimed at the
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and the other at the guns on the far bank of the river. The remaining marines engaged the privateer with their muskets and stopped the French rallying to her defence. It was at this moment that Delancey had his first glimpse of Chatelard, a small dark man who seemed to be everywhere at once. Of his energy and courage there could be no doubt at all but his men were plainly dispirited. Rallying men from the main deck, he attempted to mount a couple of stern-chasers but nothing came of it. He tried to bring small-arms men
to the stern of the ship but they mostly ran forward or below. Sword in hand he drove a few of them aft but Delancey turned to Sevendale and pointing, said, “Shoot him!” Grabbing a musket from a wounded man, Sevendale loaded the weapon, aimed it carefully, and fired. Seeing that Chatelard had been hit, Delancey called on his men to make a final effort. In another few minutes the privateer's colours were hauled down and her guns fell silent. Her own boats were used to take possession of her.