Dead Reckoning (24 page)

For the next week or so he drove his men to frantic exertion and told his officers that much might be at stake. When the recaptured East Indiaman
Windham
came into the anchorage at St Paul, the captain brought the news that the Ile de la Passe had been captured but that Duperré's squadron had entered Grand Port and was about to be attacked there by Captain Pym. Commodore Rowley sailed at once in the
Boadicea
on August 22nd but returned to St Paul on the 30th. Delancey reported to him at once, meaning to assure him that the
Laura
would be able to sail on the following day. He found the Commodore in his cabin on board the
Boadicea
white-faced and haggard, with his head in his hands and the chart spread before him.

“The worst has happened, Delancey. We have been defeated in battle.”

“I heard something of this in the town, sir. All sorts of rumours are current.”

“I am sure there are. But the situation is worse than even the French here can suppose. Four of my frigates have been lost or taken—
four
of them!”

“What happened, sir?”

“The Ile de la Passe was captured and Pym went back to his position off Port Louis, leaving Willoughby off Grand Port with
Néréide
and
Staunch.
He was ashore on a raid when Duperré appeared with the
Bellone, Minerve, Victor,
and two prizes. Willoughby managed to regain his ship and made signals which lured the French into Grand Port—he fired on them as they came in and hoped to keep them there. Then he sent the
Windham,
a retaken prize, to warn me of what he planned—an attack on the French ships in Grand Port before the rest of their ships could arrive. There was a battle in the harbour itself, three of our frigates being forced to haul down their colours. The
Iphigenia
remained but then Commodore Hamelin appeared with the
Venus, Astrèe, Entreprenant,
and
Manche.
So our last frigate surrendered, together with the Ile de la Passe, and the French can claim a real victory. When I arrived the whole affair was over. I was chased off again and came back here.”

“So your squadron now comprises the
Boadicea, Laura,
and
Staunch?
”

“My total strength! And Hamelin will have added the
Iphigenia
to his squadron.”

“But Pym and Willoughby will have crippled their opponents, surely, before they surrendered?”

“They had damaged the
Bellone
and
Minerve,
to be sure. But
I still have to face appalling odds. And what is my task? To restore the situation before the troopships arrive in an area we no longer control!”

“What went wrong, sir?”

Rowley was now pacing up and down the cabin, pausing occasionally to glance again at the notes he had been making. His nerves were on edge and his hands were trembling.

“The first mistake was mine. I remained here and ordered Pym to maintain the blockade. I had good reason to make that arrangement but I was wrong. I should have been in immediate command. The next mistakes were made by Willoughby, the hotheaded fool. Instead of holding the Ile de la Passe with all his forces, he had to go raiding ashore—Pointe du Diable, this place and that, taking his best men with him—even his artillerymen.”

“But surely, sir, he had been ordered to distribute the proclamation ashore?”

“Yes, but he'd not been told to do it in person. His first responsibility was for his ship and he should have left the raiding operations to a lieutenant. His trouble is that he can never resist playing soldiers on the nursery floor. Well, he is badly wounded now and taken prisoner, with time to reflect on his folly.”

“What about Pym's decision to attack the French ships in Grand Port, sir? Was that a mistake?”

“No, Delancey. What else could he have done? But he need not have gone like a bull at a gate. He could have taken his time and felt his way.”

“He supposed, I fancy, sir, that the other French squadron would arrive at any moment.”

“Of course—I know that. But he need not have been so headlong. He could have taken time to discuss the situation with Willoughby and study the navigational hazards. The attack was
made too late in the day. He could have waited until morning.”

“Pym and Willoughby are not, I think, the best of friends.”

“I know that. It would not have mattered so much had I been there. Instead of allowing Willoughby to act as pilot, Pym had to take a line of his own. He ran his ship aground, the
Magicienne
also grounded and the
Iphigenia
never closed with the enemy. Willoughby was left unsupported and his ship reduced to a mere wreck, with most of his men killed or wounded. The state of the
Nèrèide
must have been unthinkable—Willoughby is not the man to strike his flag while he has a cartridge left. She must have been a shambles! And the disaster was due, above all, to my absence. I could have prevented it. No, more than that, I could have won a victory . . . It is a sad note on which to end my career.”

Rowley was slumped in his chair again, staring once more at the chart.

“I hope you will forgive me, sir,” said Delancey, “if I beg to differ from you. It seems to me that you now have the chance to make your name a legend. You believe, sir, that you made a crucial mistake. But don't we all make mistakes? Nelson is thought to have been among our greatest men, but he did not make his reputation by avoiding mistakes. He was in error on a dozen occasions, and it was a tactical mistake that led to his death. I have not your wide experience, sir, but it seems to me that a great leader is not one who is always right, nor one who is undefeated but one, above all, who somehow turns defeat into victory. We judge him, finally, by his reaction to disaster, by his speed of recovery, by his resolve to conquer, and by the way an opponent's smile of self-congratulation turns suddenly into alarm and dismay. I would urge, sir, that your great moment is still to come.”

“I wish I could think that possible, Delancey. I may have the
will but I lack the means. By the time we can regain the initiative I shall be superseded. In the meanwhile, I must decide what to do. The
Windham
I shall send to Rodriguez, to warn other shipping about the present situation. As for you and me we shall have to stay here and help defend this island. The French have strength enough to retake it and may well make the attempt. We may have another ship before long, I have been told; a fine new frigate called the
Africaine,
her only previous service having been to take our Ambassador to the United States. If she were to join me, we might be able to make a fight of it. The
Africaine is
a fast ship, I have been told, and Corbett is a sail-drill maniac who prides himself on his seamanship. But you are right, Delancey. I should like nothing better than a chance to turn the tables on the French, especially at a moment when they think they have won the game!”

As if to illustrate the French mood of confidence, two of the French frigates (one of them,
Iphigenie,
recently British) appeared off St Denis a few days later. Rowley prepared to give battle, sailing from St Paul with the
Boadicea, Laura,
and
Staunch.
He no sooner sighted the French, however, than he also sighted another frigate which turned out to be the
Africaine,
having arrived most opportunely on the station. The French frigates made all sail for Mauritius, the
Africaine
in hot pursuit and the
Boadicea
following as best she might. By nightfall the
Boadicea
was out of sight from the
Laura
and Delancey could do nothing more to regain his position. As he and Northmore paced the quarter-deck, they could just see the glimmer of distant flares.

“We have set all the canvas we have, sir,” said Northmore,“but this is an old ship, too long on the station. The French will never escape, however, from the
Africaine.
”

“True enough, Mr Northmore, but will Captain Corbett wait
for the
Boadicea
to join him? Let's hope to God that he doesn't try to fight the battle by himself.”

“He should be able, sir, to cripple the Frenchman and so give the Commodore his opportunity.”

“I wonder? Corbett must fight under two serious disadvantages. From what I hear, his gunnery will be poor, with little time or ammunition having been allowed for practice. It is also rumoured that he is extremely unpopular. But note the danger of sail-drill fanaticism at the expense of gunnery. His speed will tempt him to outsail his consort and come up with a superior opponent and then his inaccurate fire will lead to his defeat.”

Delancey was to claim afterwards that he had foreseen exactly what would happen to the
Africaine.
Of this action itself he saw nothing at all. When the
Laura
rejoined the Commodore next day it was to find that the
Africaine
had been taken by the French after a tremendous action (in which Corbett was mortally wounded) and then retaken by the
Boadicea.
The
Laura
was present during the campaign which followed but was too slow to play an effective role. First of the forces from India was the frigate
Ceylon,
promptly captured by the French
Venus.
From the Commodore's point of view, this represented the worst moment of all but he reacted with vigour, retaking the
Ceylon
and then capturing the
Venus
herself. There followed what was probably Rowley's greatest achievement, the refitting of his squadron in a matter of days. In the midst of all this activity he found time to invite his captains to dinner and thank Delancey among the rest for his support. Delancey, although equally busy, found time to write home:

September 24th 1810

My dearest Fiona—I told you in a previous letter that we
lacked the strength to equal the French squadron we were supposed to hold in check. This proved to be all too true and Captain Pym, with four frigates, was defeated at Grand Port, losing all four ships and leaving the Commodore with only two frigates and two smaller ships. To make matters worse he knew that transports carrying troops intended for the conquest of Mauritius were on their way into an area which his squadron was supposed to control. I have said that he had two frigates but one of them was the poor old
Laura,
of which Captain Willoughby once said rather unkindly, “she is too small to fight, too slow to run away.” He was right, however, and my only consolation is that he (not I) is a wounded prisoner of war.

The Commodore should have another sloop, the
Falcon,
but we have no news of her and fear that she may have been lost, perhaps as the result of mutiny. I refused at first to believe the stories about Captain Railton, rejecting them as lower-deck gossip, but I have since met an officer who served with him and have had to confess that his reputation must have been well earned.

Anyway, Commodore Rowley was outnumbered by his opponents and could foresee the arrival of other ships, one by one, each being taken in turn by the enemy. This happened to the
Africaine
and the
Ceylon,
leaving the Commodore in a position which might have seemed hopeless. There followed the astonishing feat by which he recaptured these two frigates and went on to capture the
Venus
—the best frigate on the French side—in an action which lasted only ten minutes. All this he achieved with just the one frigate, the
Boadicea.
If ever man deserved immortal fame it is he. But, surely, you will exclaim, he had the
Laura
to
assist him? In point of fact we could not have helped him less had we been stationed in the West Indies or the Baltic. We came within extreme range of the
Venus
a few minutes before she struck her colours, firing one useless broadside so as to claim a share in the victory. The one result of that broadside has been to start a leak in our own ship and one which we have so far failed to trace. We have the pumps going now for an hour or more in either watch.

Now the time approaches for the capture of Mauritius. Vice-Admiral Bertie is known to be on his way with a powerful squadron and a whole army embarked in transports. I think myself that the French resistance will be trifling. So Mauritius must fall and I look forward to visiting that island at leisure. I also have my own motive for going ashore there. There is an elusive character, known sometimes by the name of Fabius, whose career as a secret agent I have traced from Ireland to Borneo, from there to Bourbon. He is now in Mauritius—of this I am convinced—and there is nowhere else to which he can readily escape. The moment is coming, I think, when his story will come to an end, probably before a firing squad.

The landing in Mauritius is to be directed by Captain Beaver, coming out from England with the sole purpose of planning and executing this one operation. He has not arrived yet but his reputation goes ahead of him and I see weeks of activity during which we shall all be speaking a new language. From a drawing up of landing tables we shall go on to talk of sepoy units, cross-covering fire, flank battalions, lascar gunners, the Reserve Brigade, and the picket line. In much the same way there will be soldiers with some grasp of the language (although not the realities) of seamanship.
There is no real harm in all this “dreadful note of preparation” but I cannot help suspecting that the mere organization has become an end in itself.

I have written confidently about the coming invasion of Mauritius but it might occur to you to ask why the French have done so little to save it. I have myself wondered about that. What would be the outcome if they sent a squadron out, timed to arrive in November? What if it appeared, offering battle, at the very moment when we shall all be busy with landing tables and landing craft? On the whole, however, I think this a remote possibility. That Napoleon should order some eleventh-hour reinforcement is quite probable but I doubt whether French seamanship is equal to bringing a squadron here together and in readiness for battle. Since we captured the Cape they have lacked any intermediate port at which to rendezvous. Some effort on their part is to be expected but I incline to believe that they have left it too late.