Devil to Pay (22 page)

The two friends parted and the
Nemesis
was soon under way, bound in the first place for the Breton coast beyond Roscoff. Delancey felt that his officers were resentful about this, knowing that the Breton coasters were not worth the trouble of pursuit and capture. He ignored their black looks, said nothing of his plans and concentrated all his efforts on gun-drill and musketry. With unwearied patience he repeated the exercises until there were signs of improvement. Then he started competitions between the gun-crews and musketry squads, with extra tots of rum for the winners. The officers were sceptical, pointing out that a fight was the last thing they wanted. Delancey ignored them, politely relentless, and ended with two gun-crews which could load and fire with at least average speed and accuracy. The others could only be said to do their best. As for Hubert's landsmen, they were drilled to the point of exhaustion.

Weeks passed before the
Nemesis
began to seek her prey and even then Delancey did no more than sweep the Baie de St Brieux, at first by daylight and then after nightfall. He spoke with Breton fishing boats and sometimes bought from them, molesting nobody and explaining that he had no interest in small craft. As nothing of any size was to be seen on that coast the local fishermen supposed that he must be weak in the head (a theory which his own officers were inclined to share). He was almost ignored by small coastal traders, which did no more than keep their distance from him. Then, and quite abruptly, Delancey struck. He opened fire in daylight on a couple of two-masted luggers out of Portrieux, crippling one of them while the other escaped. He took this small prize into Jersey while his officers fumed at his stupidity The
Coquette,
laden with a mixed cargo, was of trifling value and the effect of the capture was to scare all other vessels back into harbour. Delancey, however, seemed to be content with his prize while pointing out that better gunnery would have secured the second lugger as well.

The condemnation and sale of the
Coquette
gave Delancey a sum in hand out of which his crew received something on account. His own and the owners' share he spent at once on uniform clothing for his officers and “marines.” He had expected to buy scarlet cloth and the services of a tailor but he soon discovered that militia uniform was to be bought ready-made. After much effort he provided Hubert and his men with marine uniforms, crossbelts and headgear. The lieutenants, gunner, and midshipman were also given naval uniform with cocked or round hats as appropriate. News of this activity reached D'Auvergne, as was inevitable, and Delancey was sent for and questioned.

“So it's
you!
” exclaimed the Prince. “I might have guessed it! And may I ask what mischief you are planning
now?
”

Delancey explained something of his plans and the Prince at once offered to help.

“You will need a commissioning pennant and a smart new ensign. I'll see what I can do. And what about canvas and paint?” Delancey accepted some material help but explained that he would do none of the painting while at St Helier. He would have to find somewhere less public.

“Chausey Island would be the place,” said D'Auvergne promptly. “And one other item I should add to your list—a
drum!
”

They parted on friendly terms and the
Nemesis
was soon at sea again, bound for the Chausey Islands, halfway to St Malo.

After the anchor dropped Delancey called his officers together and explained what had to be done:

“You may have wondered, gentlemen, why I have been so particular about your appearance in uniform. You may have thought that this was the whim of a naval officer; his hobbyhorse, as people say. It is part, however, of a plan to confuse the enemy. For the next week or so the
Nemesis
is to become a king's ship; a sloop, to be exact, of twenty guns, eight in each battery and two bow-chasers. Now, this is what we must do—” He went into details about the disguise but said nothing about its exact purpose. Mystified and critical, his men had to admit that their captain at least knew what he wanted. And when the
Nemesis
sailed again, with pennant and colours flying, her drum beating to quarters, her marines in uniform and her officers looking the part, the men agreed that the disguise was effective. But what could be the object? Privateers often disguised their strength so as to look harmless and even invite attack. Whoever heard of a privateer disguised as a king's ship? They had little time to discuss this problem, however, for they were now plunged into exhausting, realistic and repeated exercises, this time in the manning and arming of boats. Off Sark there were new exercises again, this time in the boarding and capture of an enemy ship at anchor. On this cruise there seemed to be nothing but work.

It was afternoon on May 22nd, 1795, when the merchantman
Bonne Citoyenne
passed the Pointe du Rozel on the last stage of her regular passage from Bordeaux to Cherbourg. There was a fresh south-westerly breeze and she stood up the Passage de la Deroute under easy sail and keeping a sharp look-out. There was Jersey to windward and Alderney ahead and the captain, Citoyen Carignan, a cautious man, would breathe a sigh of relief when he rounded the Cap de la Hague. It would have been better seamanship, no doubt, to lay a course direct from Brest to a point west of Alderney, leaving Guernsey to starboard. He would then, however, have been far from the friendly ports to leeward. By hugging the coastline, on the other hand, he was always within easy reach of St Brieux, St Malo, Granville, Reynville, Havre de St Germain or La Gravelle. Beyond that was a stretch of inhospitable coastline ending in Cap de la Hague, with Cherbourg round the point. With this breeze even a heavily laden ship would be safe in Cherbourg harbour by the evening. The sun was bright, the visibility was excellent and the lookout in the foretop had no difficulty in seeing the sail which appeared directly ahead. He hailed the deck and the captain went halfway up the mizen shrouds with his telescope. As soon as he reached the quarterdeck again he gave the order to clear for action, for the stranger was clearly hostile and stood directly in his path. Citoyen Carignan would soon have to make a choice between battle or flight. Faced by a small privateer he would be prepared to fight his way through the passage between Alderney and Cap de la Hague. Since he mounted 22 guns and had a crew of seventy, he could beat off the average privateer; and the sound of gunfire might bring out a cruiser from Cherbourg. Faced by a frigate, on the other hand, he would run to leeward and take refuge at La Gravelle. To sail back the way he had come could be fatal, as he realized, for a frigate, working to windward, would certainly overtake him in a matter of hours.

“What do you make of her?” Carignan asked of his first mate, to whom he handed the telescope.

“No frigate, Captain, that is certain.”

“But a national corvette?”

“Who knows? Perhaps twenty guns, no ensign, worn sails. . . . She looks—no, I can't make her out.” He handed the telescope back and the captain renewed his scrutiny. The distance between the two ships was lessening but the stranger, at closer range, was still something of a mystery. As he watched, the corvette (if she
was
a corvette) tacked. She had been on the port tack when first seen, standing north-westwards under easy sail. For a minute or two her masts were in line. Then she was on the other tack, heading towards the French coast. If both ships held their present course the enemy privateer (or corvette?) would soon cut the
Bonne Citoyenne
off from her nearest refuge at La Gravelle. Carignan would then have no choice to make, with Cherbourg his only possible place of safety, the enemy to windward of him and 45 miles to go before sunset. The two ships were now converging rapidly but Carignan made more sail and thus made sure of reaching the point of intersection before his opponent. Although within range, neither opened fire for some minutes. Then the enemy's bow-chaser boomed, the smoke billowed and dispersed and the corvette (or privateer) hoisted her white ensign and pennant. The shot was across the bows and a signal followed, presumably ordering the merchantman to heave to. Carignan hoisted the tricolour in defiance but made no other response, watching through his telescope as the enemy ship crossed his wake. She was at about three cables' distance and sharply distinct in the afternoon sun. Carignan could see the blue uniforms on her quarterdeck, the scarlet and white of her marines, the glitter of their bayonets. There came downwind the beat of the drum and the faintly heard words of command. There was no other sound and all the seamen visible were standing rigidly to their guns. As soon as she had passed the merchantman's stern, the corvette put up her helm and came almost into the
Bonne Citoyenne's
wake. Assuming her to be faster and better manned, the corvette (or sloop, as the English would call her) should be alongside in twenty minutes and Carignan would have to fight her off for the time it might take to cover ten miles. He pointed this out to his first mate and added: “We have a very good chance.”

“Yes, Captain,” said the mate. “She mounts fewer guns than we do. But why didn't she fire her broadside as she passed?”

The enemy corvette was well-disciplined and well-handled but she seemed to be one of the slowest ships in her class. She gained little on her prey, her captain resorting to his two bow-chasers in the hope of crippling his opponent. The British shooting was indifferent, however, and the range began to lengthen. The
Bonne Citoyenne
came into La Gravelle undamaged and the pursuing corvette turned away, baffled. The French crew cheered as they made fast to the breakwater and Carignan congratulated himself on his victory over an enemy frigate.

“A frigate, Captain?” asked the second mate.

“Of the smallest class,” Carignan admitted, privately resolving to word his report rather differently.

“And the slowest,” added the mate with a puzzled expression. He would have been less puzzled, in one way, had he known that the
Nemesis
had been towing an old sail astern. He would have been more puzzled in another way, however, had he known this, for such a strange piece of seamanship might be regarded as a proof of lunacy. Nor need we wonder that the long-suffering crew of the
Nemesis
had come to the same conclusion, that their captain must be out of his mind. Weeks of training had been followed by the capture of an almost worthless prize. Then there had been all this fuss over uniforms and paintwork. And now, having waylaid a valuable merchantman, he had fired a few shots and broken off the engagement. Le Vallois was irritated although secretly glad to avoid battle. Rouget was furious, Hubert was puzzled, young Duquemin almost openly relieved. When Le Vallois knocked at the cabin door it was with a gloomy satisfaction that he announced the coming aft of a group of seamen who wished to make a complaint. “Send them in,” said Delancey, and the first lieutenant ushered in a group consisting of Le Breton, Puteaux, Cluett, Tardif and Wetherall. “Well?” asked Delancey and Wetherall spoke up on behalf of the others:

“You'll recollect, sir, that we proved ourselves to be the best guncrew on board this here ship?”

“Yes, I know.”

“But the crew you put on the bow-chaser were the worst we have, the crew which never came near the target.”

“I am aware of that. Good practice for them.”

“But we reckon, sir, that we could have crippled that frog ship and brought her to close action.”

“I daresay you might have done. But that was not what I wanted.”

“Well, sir, we felt disgraced.”

“Forget it. Before many hours have passed you will have reason to feel proud. For that I give you my word. And when I want to
hit
the target I shall know which gun-crew to put on the bow-chaser. You may not believe it but I know what I am doing.”

When the deputation had withdrawn old Le Vallois made his formal protest:

“I feel bound to tell you, sir, that the men are discouraged. They can't understand your tactics, sir, and nor do I.”

“You soon will, Mr Le Vallois. Bring the other officers in—yes, with Carré as well. Leave Mr Duquemin in charge of the deck.”

Delancey walked to the stern windows and saw the French coast disappearing as the light failed. The
Nemesis
was just north of Sark, heading slowly north-westwards under topsails and jib. There was a knock at the door and his four officers entered, all looking more or less resentful.

“Pray be seated, gentlemen,” said Delancey, setting them the example. “I want you to picture, if you will, the evening's events in the little port of La Gravelle. The
Bonne Citoyenne
came in on the flood tide, just beginning, and tied up alongside. Her captain is pleased with himself. He was headed away from Cherbourg by a British sloop of twenty guns but he held her off and reached port, saved by the bad seamanship or cowardice—or both—of the British captain. What does he do now? Mr Le Vallois?”

“He stays where he is for the time being.”

“Just so, and then? Mr Rouget?”

“He lets one watch go ashore.”

“Very true. So he does! And then? Mr Hubert?”

“He goes to the local tavern and tells the company about his victory over the Royal Navy. They all shout ‘Liberty, Equality, Fraternity!'“

“I think you are right, Mr Hubert. But he has to do something else first. Mr Carré?” There was silence and Delancey had to answer his own question: “He sends a messenger overland to the senior naval officer at Cherbourg, asking for a cruiser to meet him tomorrow off Cap de la Hague. The messenger rode off an hour ago and will be there three hours hence. He will have to ride sixteen miles or so but not in vain. The corvette will sail at first light.”

“How do we know that?” asked Hubert.

“Because the
Bonne Citoyenne
is bringing the wine; and she won't quit La Gravelle until sure of her escort. That confounded sloop may still be around, lurking perhaps beyond Alderney. So she won't sail tonight—as she could—on the ebb. She'll be there, it has been decided, until morning. That is her captain's intention, gentlemen. But one fact has escaped his notice—the fact that we shall capture his ship tonight.” There was a gasp of astonishment and all the officers tried to speak at once: