Dead Reckoning (23 page)

“Sir!”

“How many bombs have you left?”

“Seven, sir, and one out there what didn't go off, like.”

“Pile all eight in the back of the cave. Have a meal after that and wait here for my return. Captain Sevendale, when you have finished with the cave, let your men rest and have a meal. I shall make for the summit now, taking my two seamen with me and leaving you in command. I expect to be back here in about an hour.”

These were brave words but Delancey was still cursedly short of breath. Slowly, still gasping, he and his two men made their way up the reddish crumbling lava slope. In another half-hour they stood on the summit, over ten thousand feet above sealevel. They were in warm sunlight on a clear day, standing on a peak which fell away steeply on three sides. All around, the valleys were filled with cloud, from which the other mountaintops rose magnificently. There were patches of snow in the hollows which Tanner and Teesdale gratefully put to their mouths. Beyond the clouds the ocean stretched to a distant horizon, broken at one point by the shadowy outline of Mauritius.

On that side of the peak and facing in that direction was the thing which Delancey had come to see. First, there was a large iron basket, suspended from an iron framework, near which was a pile of firewood covered with tarpaulin and a half-dozen barrels of oil. To the eastward—no, maybe east-north-east—there
was a large empty frame, attached to strong uprights and hinged at the bottom. Were the frame covered with canvas it would hide the bonfire from the direction of the other island. Lowering the frame would reveal it, making it possible to signal with long or short exposures, no doubt at a routine hour of the night. Had the system been a success? Delancey thought not, supposing that there would usually be too much cloud. But there was an additional installation, a ten-foot rail, about five feet from the ground, which related perhaps to a different system. It was only when he found the remains of a rocket stick that Delancey could see the point of it.

He understood then that the mountain was often hidden by a relatively shallow canopy of vapour. Fired from the summit at a given hour, a pattern or a series of rockets would burst above cloud-level and might be seen from Mauritius. As seen from Bourbon, if they were seen at all, they would appear as lightning. Of the two methods this seemed the better but the French had evidently used both. Having explained the purpose of this equipment to Tanner and Teesdale, Delancey led the way back to the cave.

“We are ready to move off, sir,” Sevendale reported. “In my final search of the cave, however, I found a quantity of live rockets; about thirty of them.”

“That's just what there would be,” said Delancey. “Have them piled near the mortar bombs.” When this had been done he told Sevendale to march his men back to Salazie but keep well to the left. As soon as they had gone, he turned to the bombardier and asked him what was his greatest length of fuse.

“Seven minutes, sir. I've three of them.”

“Good. I shall now take the rest of the party to a position over there, nearly level with the cave and behind that red rock.
When you see that we are in position there, I want you to put those fuses into three of the mortar bombs, light them, and then
run!
You should be able to join us before the volcano explodes. Understood? You'll have to
run
as never before but seven minutes should give you time enough.”

Under cover at the chosen place, Delancey found himself watching the cave for the last time. He saw the bombardier enter the cave. Some minutes passed. At last the young man came out at the double and began his run for safety. It was no altitude for running, however, and he could be seen to be in trouble, gasping for breath. He was going too slowly, that was obvious, and several minutes had passed. Would it serve any purpose to go to his help? Clearly, none. But why couldn't the man
hurry?
Hours seemed to pass while the bombardier ran as if through a lake of glue. Then, the worst happened. The man stumbled and fell, having probably sprained his ankle. He struggled somehow to his feet, fell again, crawled for a few yards and then tried once more to run. He was still in the open when the cave exploded with a sound of thunder. The re-echoing detonation was then drowned in the roar of an avalanche. Peering from behind cover, Delancey saw the cave disappear as its roof fell in, while the more rounded boulders were vanishing down the mountainside in a cloud of dust. There were fragments of rock coming down from above and the bombardier was hit by one of them, Delancey just managing to dodge another. Gradually the noise subsided and the others went to the bombardier's rescue. His left ankle was sprained and his right leg was broken.

“It was my fault, sir. One of those must have been a fourminute fuse.”

“No, bombardier, it was not your fault. Never mind, we'll get you back to camp as well as we can.”

With an improvised stretcher made of two muskets, the painful return journey began. It was evening before it finished.

After the evening meal, Sevendale diffidently asked Delancey why he had blown up the cave. His captain looked at him with surprise.

“Didn't you look at that rocky mountainside? To have dug eight graves in that would have taken a week! Nor did I want to carry those blasted mortar bombs back to St Denis. It was far better to use them up. I am sorry, though, about the bombardier and a pity about that damned fuse.”

“I suppose it was his own fault?”

“No, it was my fault. I told him to run. I should have told him to
walk!
”

W
HEN Delancey returned to St Denis, the squadron had gone, leaving only the
Boadicea
and the
Laura,
still under repair. Northmore had done very well, plundering the prizes of cordage and pitch, but his skilled seamen were few and the work was slow. Reporting to the Commodore at his shore headquarters, Delancey was invited to dinner that afternoon. He next reported to the Governor, in whose office he found Lt.-Colonel Keating.

“So the leader of the gang escaped?” said Farquhar with a touch of asperity.

“Yes, sir.”

“And is up to mischief, I suppose, in some other part of the island.”

“I think it more probable that he will make for Mauritius.”

“But how?” asked Keating.

“In an open boat—at night.”

“Yes, I suppose that could be done in this weather.” Farquhar admitted. “He would, of course, know where to find one. He would be lucky, however, to avoid an encounter with one of our men-of-war.”

Delancey shook his head.

“That would not tax his ingenuity, sir. Our frigates blockade Port Louis and Grand Port. He could come ashore at Port de la
Savane or La Baie du Cap. Nor is it open boats our men are looking for.”

“Very true,” said Farquhar, “and by your account this fugitive is a dangerous man. He will be our prisoner when Mauritius is conquered and our Governor of that island will know how to deal with him.”

Delancey kept his opinion to himself but he was not as optimistic about this wondering whether Fabius could be identified or whether a court martial could find any evidence against him. His own suspicions were not based on any real information. It was just possible that the man had been killed in the avalanche but that seemed unlikely. Fabius would have known about the Bras Rouge and his path in that direction would have been clear of the flying boulders. It was typical of the man that he should have escaped after telling his men to fight it out: men he must have known were better as torturers than as marksmen. He decided, silently, to avoid bringing Fabius to trial. He would be killed, he decided, while resisting arrest.

The Commodore had no other guests at dinner and he listened attentively to Delancey's account of his visit to Le Piton des Neiges. He had other things on his mind, however, and was soon talking about his own worries. There were senior officers who would never discuss their own problems, preferring to build up a reputation for taciturn omniscience. Josias Rowley was not one of them. He was Irish and quite prepared to discuss anything. Intelligent, quick-witted, and nervous, he evidently had to confide in somebody and Delancey was apparently the only man available.

“I am not to be the conqueror of Mauritius,” he explained. “Vice-Admiral Bertie is coming from the Cape and will supersede
me before the landings take place. I am to do the work and he will take the credit. Well, it comes fair in the end, I suppose. I may some day be an admiral myself! But I am responsible in the meanwhile and must hand over to him in a situation which is completely under control. But the fact is that I lack the superiority I ought to have over the enemy. You know that as well as I do. Captain Pym is off Mauritius with the frigates
Sirius, Iphigenia, Néréide, Magicienne,
and the gun-brig
Staunch.
He is barely equal to the French and I must keep the
Boadicea
here so that I can meet the Vice-Admiral as arranged.”

“I am doing my utmost, sir, to have the
Laura
ready for sea. She will be hove down tomorrow.”

“I know you are. But the
Laura
is no match for any of the French frigates.”

“What about the
Falcon,
sir?”

“Another sloop would make no difference. In any case, I begin to fear that she is lost. She had been sent to India with convoy and was ordered to report back to me. She is long overdue and we have had no news of her. In strict confidence, it would not surprise me to hear that her crew had mutinied. You know Railton's reputation.”

The meal was finished and they were sitting over their wine but Rowley was on his feet and began pacing up and down the cabin.

“We used to count on a superiority, ship to ship, based on a higher rapidity of fire. But I wouldn't count on that today, not in battle against Hamelin's ships, not in a duel with the
Venus!
And our ships have been out here too long, with depleted crews and too much sickness. The
Laura
is wretchedly manned and you know it.”

“The French have their troubles, too, sir.”

“To be sure they do but Hamelin has not been overseas for so long as you or I. You might think that I would wish to retain my present command but the fact is that I shall be glad to be relieved. We have in our present situation all the makings of a real setback and I don't want to be the scapegoat should disaster take place.”

“I quite understand that, sir. May I ask what orders you have given to Captain Pym for the closer blockade of Mauritius?”

“He is under orders, first of all, to raid the coast and distribute copies ashore of the proclamation drawn up by Mr Farquhar. The object of this is to show the inhabitants that they will be more prosperous under British rule and so weaken the effectiveness of the French militia.”

“We have, in my opinion, sir, little to fear from the militia in any case.”

“Well, we are doing what we have been asked to do. As for British rule being so advantageous, I don't think that the folk here will enjoy it for long. Lacking any real seaport, this colony is governed at a loss and we are almost certain to give it back when the war ends. Mauritius we shall certainly keep, not because we want the place but so as to deny France the use of it. I discussed with Pym a plan to begin the conquest by capturing the Ile de la Passe.”

“The island in the approach to Grand Harbour?”

“Yes, our occupation of the batteries there would make Grand Harbour useless, impossible to enter or leave.”

“Is Pym to lead the attack, sir?”

“No, he will direct it, or cancel it, indeed, if the situation should be unfavourable, but the actual capture will be a task for Captain Willoughby. He will succeed if any man can.”

“An exceptionally gallant officer, sir.”

“Yes, but he is also a specialist in conjunct operations. He is always on shore and drilling his men as infantry. I think, myself—and strictly between you and me—that he plays the soldier too much. It is a good fault, however, from the point of view of capturing the Ile de la Passe. This is a task after his own heart.”

“And Duperré's squadron is out of the way?”

“Doing mischief, I hear, in the Mozambique Channel.”

“But might return when least expected?”

“Exactly! I'll be glad, Delancey, when the invasion of Mauritius begins. At the moment we have troopships and transports on their way from India and the Cape, and their position could be extremely hazardous. I lie awake at night, thinking of the dangers, and there is nothing I can do to remove them.”

Delancey said what he could about Pym being a sensible man and Willoughby never at a loss but he thought, privately, that Rowley's squadron was over-extended, and that the Ile de la Passe was better let alone. As things were, the loss of a single frigate would be extremely serious. All he could do, personally, was to hasten the refitting of the
Laura.