Dead Reckoning (27 page)

Looking about him, Delancey was satisfied with his work. The
Laura
was hard aground on an almost even keel, perhaps four hundred yards from the beach. She had sprung a dozen leaks and her almost empty hold was filling with water as she settled in her grave. The pumps were silent at last. Delancey now gave orders to man the larboard battery and prepare to open fire
with grapeshot. He was perfectly placed to blast the enemy off the beach but he knew that there would be no enemy there. He ordered the rest of the crew to unbend the sails, unrig each mast, and send down the yards and topmasts. Naval stores should never be wasted, said Delancey, and hours of work followed for the men not actually manning the useless guns.

Meanwhile the signal had been given and the First Division was at last heading for the shore. It was a splendid spectacle, with all the boats in good order and strict formation. The soldiers were ready to dash through the shallows and cross the beach to where, lining the woods beyond, the enemy might be waiting the order to fire. Delancey admired the scene and inwardly admitted that the staffwork, if fussy, had been excellent. But his telescope vainly traversed the beach for evidence of opposition. Of the enemy there was no sign at all. The troops from Fort Malartic could have been there in position—heaven knew there had been time enough—but that was not, probably, what they had been told to do. As Delancey watched, the first wave of troops landed through the surf, their bayonets glittering as they went forward. The gunboats hovered, looking vainly for targets, and the second wave of infantry followed the first. After the whole First Division had landed there came the dull boom of a distant explosion, away to the right.

“What will that mean, sir?” asked Topley.

“The French,” Delancey replied patiently, “have blown up their ammunition at Fort Malartic. It means that the garrison there will fall back on Port Louis.”

As a fixed battery, the
Laura
's brief career was now at an end and with it her career in the service. The men on the larboard battery were stood down from their guns, and sent to help dismantle the ship. As this work progressed a gig came alongside,
half-full of water, and a young midshipman from the
Nisus
came aboard in some distress.

“I have a message, sir, for the headquarter ship of the Second Division but my gig was in collision with a launch and is sinking.”

“I see,” replied Delancey. “You shall have the loan of our cutter. Can you tell me why the landing was so delayed?” The boy brightened up at once.

“Some of the troops who were to have been on the right flank were put by mistake on board the
Néréide,
which anchored furthest to the left.”

“So Captain Beaver had them changed about.?”

“He would have done, sir, but his gig was swamped while towing behind the
Nisus
and he lost his copy of the signals.”

Delancey turned abruptly aside, hiding his expression and clearing his throat. In a rather shaky voice he gave orders to man the cutter. Come what may, he must not be seen laughing at a brother captain. Choking a little, he told the midshipman to complete his errand, leaving his gig to be collected later. Then he hurried to his cabin where he could have the joke to himself.

During the late afternoon, after the last troops had landed, he sent for his officers and gave his last instructions on board the
Laura:

“The time has come, gentlemen, for us to say good-bye to the old
Laura.
She has done good service and we have been, I think, a happy ship. But the hurricane season is upon us and I shouldn't like to face a hurricane in this old frigate. At this point, therefore, her career ends. Our service together will continue, however, for we are to transfer the whole crew, officers and men, to the captured French frigate
Minerve,
a fine 40-gun ship of
their largest class. I suspect that General Decaen will capitulate during the next few days and that the
Minerve
and other ships in Port Louis will be handed over to us undamaged.

“We have three tasks to perform before we can begin to prepare the
Minerve
for sea. We have, first of all, to save all that can be saved of the
Laura.
This will be your task, Mr Topley. I do not think it safe for your detachment to remain on board this ship. She is slowly sinking into the sea-bed and is already three inches lower than when she grounded. So you will form a camp ashore, using sails as tents, landing all necessary stores and using the ship's boats to patrol the ship and prevent looting.

“Mr Northmore, you will command a larger detachment and march your men, fully armed, to Fort Malartic, where I hope you will find shelter, despite the damage done by the exploding magazine. Any carts you find there can be used to bring up hammocks and personal kit. As soon as the French surrender or are defeated, you will march into Port Louis and mount guard over the
Minerve,
posting additional sentries over other men-of-war and naval shore installations. I shall lead the third detachment comprising the marines under Captain Sevendale, with two midshipmen, my coxswain and steward. My object will be to occupy the French signal station on the hill overlooking Port Louis and secure their signal code. You will be responsible, Mr Northmore, for detailing men to the two main detachments and for making all necessary arrangements. Any questions? Very well, then, we shall all meet again when we rehoist our ensign on board His Majesty's ship
Minerva.
Until then—good luck to you all!”

As on a similar occasion in the other island of Bourbon, Delancey had a schoolboy sensation of being on holiday. The
Laura
had latterly been a worrying responsibility and he now had the sensation of shedding a burden. Strictly speaking, he
should have led the main detachment himself but he could not resist the temptation to hunt Fabius down. He had, he decided, a score to settle. Fabius would not, of course, be an easy prey. His concern, however, had been with signals and interrogation and these provided the point at which the pursuit could begin. It should end somewhere in Mauritius for there was nowhere else for the man to go. In the meanwhile, the battle for Mauritius was soon over. A skirmish on the day after the landing led to a minor engagement on December 1st and 2nd, which was followed by Decaen's capitulation on the 3rd. By the evening of that day Northmore and his men were in the harbour area and Delancey's party had climbed to the signal station above Port Louis. They found it deserted, with flags removed and all papers burnt. All it afforded was a fine view of the town and harbour.

“Disappointing, sir,” said Sevendade, “but does the signal station matter now?”

“Yes, it does. My guess is that Napoleon may have sent more ships to the rescue. They may sail after the island has fallen but before news of its fall has reached France. When they sight the island, supposing it to be in French hands, they will identify themselves and expect to be warned about the whereabouts of the blockading squadron. If they see an appropriate signal, they will sail into Port Louis, not realizing their mistake until they are covered by the batteries and compelled to haul down their colours. If there is no proper response, they will go about and make all sail.”

“Where will they go, sir, in that event? They would be short of provisions and water.”

“They would make for Madagascar and could not well do anything else. But a clean ship straight from France should easily
escape from any pursuit. So it is important for us to make the right signal.”

“Can we do that, sir?”

“Yes, we can. We have part of their code, remember, picked up in Bourbon. My fear is that someone here—Fabius for example—will contrive to make another signal from some other point.”

“Won't he have fled, sir, to the other side of the island?”

“Not if he means to make that signal. My own belief is that those ships are on their way and that Fabius is somewhere in this town.”

They were looking down across the town during this conversation. It was evening and lights were beginning to appear, one of them perhaps in the place where Fabius lay hidden. For the time being Delancey could do no more and he led his party down to the harbour where their new ship lay alongside the wharf in Trou Fanfaron. There he was met by Northmore, who reported that the frigate was excellently maintained and had been almost ready for sea. The commissioning pennant was hoisted the following day.

If Delancey expected a leisurely stay in port during which he could make inquiries into the former treatment of British prisoners-of-war he was quickly undeceived. While work on the
Minerva
was still proceeding he was summoned to Vice-Bertie's headquarters—a building near the small boat harbour—and given an unexpected and urgent task. Behind closed doors and after warnings about secrecy, he was told that the sloop
Falcon
had mutinied and was thought to be in the Seychelles. She was known to have sailed from Bombay under orders to join Bertie's flag. Long overdue, she had been regarded as lost but there had been some sinister rumours, followed at last by some definite information.

“A country ship has reached Bourbon from Madras. Her master, a Malacca Portuguese called Da Silva, reports that his ship was intercepted by a British sloop of war which proceeded to rob him of a number of barrels of provisions. From his description I am led to conclude that the sloop he encountered was the
Falcon.
From the conduct of her crew I am inclined to assume that Captain Railton and his officers are no longer in command. I fear this is a case of mutiny. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, sir. But where was the merchantman when this encounter took place?”

“I was coming to that. She was north of the Seychelles and the
Falcon
was apparently heading for those islands.”

“Thank you, sir. That would be the sensible thing to do. Their need will be for water. If they sail from the Seychelles it will be to head, no doubt, for Madagascar; a base from which pirates have operated before.”

“I wonder, Captain Delancey, whether we should use the word ‘Piracy.' Pirates are surely a thing of the past, almost unknown in modern times. Tom Collins had his day but is remembered only in the name of a drink.”

“But surely, sir, the robbing of that country ship was an act of piracy?”

“Legally, it was. But it was not the act of people who have chosen piracy as a career. They did not capture the ship or kill the crew. They took—admittedly by force—the stores they needed, and that was all. These men are guilty of mutiny. We do not know as yet that they are guilty of murder.”

“You mean, sir, that Captain Railton and his officers may still be alive?”

“Indeed they may. They could have been put on board some craft bound for the Straits of Lombok or Bali.”

“So our problem is how to bring these mutineers to justice?”

“We must certainly do that. But we want no gossip in the meanwhile. Mutiny spreads, as you know, by example. When our seamen hear of mutiny they should be told, in the same breath, that the mutineers have been hanged. They should never be allowed to picture mutineers living in luxury on a tropic island with plenty of rum and plenty of girls. There must be no word of this to anyone.”

“Very good, sir.”

“The next question is—how soon can you sail?”

“As soon as we have completed our provisions and water, that is, by the day after tomorrow.”

“Good. I thought you were more nearly ready than anyone else. You took over the
Minerva
rather smartly, didn't you?”

“Minerva was the goddess of wisdom, sir.”

“Was she, though? Well, you have a fine frigate, the envy of other commanders. Let us see what you can do with her. Your orders are to sail for the Seychelles, find the
Falcon,
and bring her back, with the mutineers under guard as prisoners awaiting court martial.”

“Aye, aye, sir. You will be aware, sir, no doubt, that I have only a minimal crew for the
Minerva.
The
Laura
was herself undermanned and she was a much smaller ship.”

“I am aware of it, but what can I do? I have somehow to find a crew for the
Bellone
as well—and God knows how I am going to do that. You must do the best with what you have. Your crew is sufficient, I take it, to work the ship?”

“Yes, sir, but not to man more than the one battery.”

“What does that matter? There is no French frigate left in the Indian Ocean. Any other difficulties?”

“No, sir.”

“Very well, then. Your reward for this service will be your orders to take the
Minerva
back to England. It would seem from your record that you have been on this station long enough. Half the ships will be going home as no longer needed and yours will be one of them. But deal with the
Falcon
first.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

The interview was over but Delancey did not leave the building until he had talked with the flag lieutenant.

“You know, Mr West, what my orders are?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And I shall have them in writing?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have we an officer here who has served with Captain Railton?”

“That's a little difficult. There was Hussey, but he has gone. Hollis? No, he was never in the
Falcon.
The one man I can think of is Lord Neville, who now commands the sloop
Actaeon.
He was once with Railton but only for a few months.”

“Thank you. I'll have a word with him. One other thing—you know what has been said about Railton—I mean, about his brutality to his crew—would you suppose it is true?”

“That's not an easy question to answer, sir. I never served with him myself. I talked with him on perhaps two or three occasions and he was uncommonly civil. But he has a certain reputation and I have probably heard the rumours that you will have heard. I don't exactly know why I say this—a matter of instinct, perhaps—but I incline to believe these stories. I felt no surprise when I heard this recent report. I have felt for some time that he is—or was—a man whose crew might mutiny. I hesitate to voice this opinion because I could produce no sort of evidence to support it. But Neville should be more definite.
He has the reputation of being unapproachable, a man rather difficult to converse with. You will already, perhaps, have made his acquaintance?”