So Near So Far (14 page)

“I suggest, sir, that you should.”

“But what puzzles me is how the fellow has any coal left after his passage from London River.”

“He will have made his passage under sail, sir, using his engine merely to enter the harbour and make a suitable impression on you.”

“And what good will that do him?”

“Why, sir, it is not unlikely that some of us may run aground off Granville. The
Invention
could tow us off. You would report this and the Navy Board might give Mr Williams a contract to build twenty more steam-vessels, likely to prove invaluable on similar occasions. I think, sir, that he is a businessman as well as a patriot. For that matter I rather doubt the effectiveness of his guns. He lacks the experience and he's hardly had time to train his men.”

“But you would still make use of him?”

“I think we might be blamed if we did not.”

“If I accept his help I shall keep him far astern, to begin with, and later to leeward. There is the risk of fire, the result of sparks from his funnel.”

“I quite agree, sir. I certainly don't want to have this contrivance alongside my own ship.”

“But what control shall I have over Mr Williams? He won't even understand my signals.”

”You could perhaps lend him a midshipman as signal officer?”

“Yes, I might do that. I don't mind admitting, Delancey, that I shall be glad when we have finished with Granville and seen the last of the
Invention.”

After quitting the flagship Delancey went over to the steam-vessel and made himself known again to Mr Williams.

“Welcome to the Channel Islands. I hope you had a good passage from Woolwich and have had the chance to exercise your guns and mortar?”

“Well, Captain Delancey, the passage was all I could have wished. The
Invention
is a good sea boat. We haven't fired our guns, though, and have only a limited quantity of ammunition. Most of our space below decks is filled with coal.”

“In your place, Mr Williams, I should not open fire at all, least of all with the mortar. It is not an easy weapon to handle and you can all too easily blow yourself up. Keep out of harm's way and be ready to rescue any ship in difficulties—that would be my advice. But I am not the Admiral and it will be for him to tell you what to do. Have you studied the chart which we shall be using between here and Granville?”

“I have, sir, and I can't say that it fills me with much confidence. There seem to be rocks and sandbanks all over that part of the French coast and the tides run fast between them. I shall follow the Admiral and hope for the best. He is a local man, I hear.”

“We shall be sailing at night, however.”

“At
night!
That is news to me, I'll confess.”

“But you have a sailing master, no doubt?”

“I have Mr Bateman but he was no more than a boatswain in his last ship.”

”Well, I admire your spirit, Mr Williams. In your place, nevertheless, I should take a local pilot. Should you part company from the squadron between here and Granville, you might otherwise be in danger. I used to command a privateer in these waters and may still have old shipmates in St Helier. Shall I ask around and find you a good man who has spent his whole life in these parts?”

“That is very kind of you, sir, very kind indeed. But shall we have time?”

“We have time enough. The
Sulphur,
bomb ketch, is a notoriously slow craft and we are still waiting for her to join the squadron.”

Authorised by Williams, Delancey went ashore and visited several taverns which he had known in years past, finding some old friends finally in the Royal Oak. He ended in earnest conversation with a dubious-looking character called Etienne Le Feuvre, who finally returned with him to the
Invention.

Delancey now explained to Williams that Le Feuvre would be his pilot—for a suitable fee, payable in advance—and that his own ship,
Vengeance,
would keep in close touch. In this way the navigational dangers would be minimised. Even with these precautions, Williams would need to study the chart and keep a sharp lookout. Having thanked Delancey and seen him return to his own ship, Williams looked at the chart again with renewed misgivings. Between Jersey and Granville lay the Grelets Banks, the Minquiers, and Les Sauvages while the actual approach to Granville was flanked by the Chausey Islands to starboard and the Cathcue Bank to port, followed by a nightmare range of obstacles clustered around the actual target. He knew already about the tidal range. Seven fathoms rise and fall! Forty-two feet! The French coast hereabouts was a region of hideous complexity
and Mr Williams deeply regretted having come near the place. He had pictured a scene in which the
Invention
would have been the focus of interest, all these sailing-ship seamen watching him with amazement. Mr Williams was an engineer, a friend of Mr Bramah, an expert in his own field. The
Invention
was his masterpiece, affording a glimpse of the future. He was himself no seaman or navigator and he had left the Thames estuary before he realised that Mr Bateman's knowledge did not extend to nautical astronomy. Bateman professed to know the English headlands by sight but was totally unfamiliar with the French coast, which English shipping always avoided in time of war. On a fine autumn day the
Invention,
following the men-of-war, might have made a name for herself despite these difficulties and hazards. But this Admiral, who was plainly out of his mind, proposed to make his attack by night! Whatever the
Invention
achieved would be unseen, unrecorded, unknown to history or legend. If he were to emerge unscathed—and this was now almost the height of his ambition—Williams would owe his safety to the pilotage of the shifty-looking Etienne Le Feuvre, for whom he felt an instinctive distrust. But when he attempted to discuss the problem with Le Feuvre he discovered that his pilot knew no English and could not even understand Mr Williams's few words of French. What Le Feuvre spoke was an obscure local dialect of which no one else on board knew a word. All Williams could do must be to give Le Feuvre the helm and hope that he knew what he was doing. While still at St Helier, with interpreter at hand, the Jersey pilot insisted on the
Invention
having another boat, making room for everyone on board; a pessimistic but not unreasonable stipulation in view of the vessel herself being such a novelty. This boat, her third, was towed astern. Had Mr Williams been a man of wealth he might
at this time have withdrawn from the current operation—and few would have blamed him—but the hull, engine, rigging, equipment, and provisioning of the
Invention
had cost him his entire fortune. If he failed to prove the usefulness of the steam-vessel on this occasion he might have no second chance next year or ever. He had gambled for high stakes and doubted now whether he could win. He stood in fact to lose both his fortune and his life.

Sir James Saumarez sailed from Jersey on the morning of 13 September, the
Invention
astern of the men-of-war. Lagging in the column were the two bomb vessels, whose presence was essential to the bombardment's success, and the
Invention—
under sail only—was slower even than they were. Night fell and Williams lost sight of the squadron, his last glimpse giving him the impression that Le Feuvre was steering a more westerly course. Had they possessed any language in common, Williams would have pestered his pilot with queries as to their position. Thwarted in that way, he could only bite his nails with anxiety and peer into the darkness of a moonless and cloudy night. He half expected to hear gunfire and see flashes from the gun muzzles but all was silent as the hours passed and as a light westerly breeze brought them nearer the place they were to attack. Going below to his cabin, Williams studied the chart afresh and looked with horror again at the tangle of obstacles into which they were heading. He knew that they were on a rising tide and that this was the main reason for the attack's timing, and there was some small consolation in believing that they might re-float the vessel if she ran aground. In that sense the sandbanks opposite Granville might be thought relatively harmless but all the other hazards from the Minquiers to the Little Etat were rocks, whether exposed or tidal or normally
hidden. Le Feuvre had the leadsman in the chains and had his eye on the compass but must otherwise depend on some sort of instinct. If that were so, his instinct failed him for the
Invention
crashed into a rocky obstacle at about 1:40 A
.M.
on the 14th. The sails were immediately struck and a hasty inspection was enough to show that the vessel was lost. She was held forwards by the rocks themselves but had been badly holed below the waterline. The water was pouring aft from there, ensuring that the vessel would sink by the stern. Had she been in ballast an effort could have been made to pump the water out and the rising tide would have lifted her clear, but the water was going into the coal bunker and the pump had been choked by coal dust. The only possible course was to abandon ship, thanking heaven (or Le Feuvre) for the extra boat which was already in the water. The other two were quickly launched and about ten minutes were available in which people could save their gear, together with the ship's papers and navigational instruments. The
Invention
went down as the boats stood by. There was some discussion at this point as to the direction in which the boats should go but the problem was solved for them dramatically. Far to the east and south there was the light of a starshell, followed by the rumble of gunfire. The bombardment of Granville had begun and an estimate of distance and bearing made it fairly clear that the
Invention
had been lost on Les Sauvages, about twelve miles west of the squadron's route. Mr Williams ordered his men to row in the direction of Granville and his boats were picked up before daybreak by the cutter
Carteret
which had been sent back to look for them. On board the
Cerberus
the rescued men had the privilege of watching the bombardment of Granville which finally ended towards the evening of the 15th.

F
IONA did not land at Dover. It seemed to Delancey, on second thoughts, that a better plan would be to put her ashore at Deal. He recalled that this was a common resort for naval officers' wives and that she might care to remain there until such time as
Vengeance
might sail again. When he paid his respects to Rear-Admiral Edward Knight, he found that Mrs Knight was on board the flagship for the day. When Delancey was presented to her and mentioned that Fiona was with him, Mrs Knight was instantly helpful.

“You must bring her ashore at once and she shall stay with us until a proper lodging can be found. She should on no account stay in Lower Deal where the common folk live, nor even in Middle Deal where some married lieutenants put their wives. Good lodgings are hard to find these days but vacancies occur when ships are posted to a foreign station. Did I hear something about the
Europa
quitting this station, Admiral? That would mean a vacancy when Mrs Barnett leaves, as I suppose she will, and in the better part of Upper Deal.”

Delancey accepted this kind invitation on Fiona's behalf and promised to bring her to the flagship that afternoon. Only after these matters of moment had been settled could the Rear-Admiral begin to explain the functions of his squadron. He did so as he and Delancey paced the quarterdeck in the autumn sunshine.

”We lately looked upon ourselves as very much in the front line of defence, and indeed we are still, save that the season for a possible invasion is past. We may take it that the French will stay ashore now until the spring of 1804. That does not mean that they are inactive or have given up the attempt. We know from intelligence reports that they are still building flat-bottomed boats and similar craft. We also know that they have considerable forces in camp around Boulogne. We assume, therefore, that the invasion is planned for next summer. All we can do in the meanwhile is to patrol the French coast and prevent them gaining much sea experience. We shall harass them until the end of October and then keep them under observation. The inshore work is done by sloops and gun-brigs, of which I have eight, backed up by two smaller frigates—yours being one—and these again supported by my flagship
Antelope,
a 50-gun ship, as you see. If and when the invasion is attempted my squadron is ready to be sacrificed while larger forces are assembled to meet the threat, some from the Nore and some from Portsmouth. You will find, when you go ashore, that our military preparations are on a vast scale, with regular and militia regiments everywhere. Our generals are very confident but few of their units have been in battle. The government's policy is to meet the French on their own coast, not on ours.”

Rear-Admiral Knight, a small man with protuberant eyes and impatient gestures, impressed Delancey as an officer of great resolution and energy, eager to do his best with rather meagre forces devoted to a rather unpromising task. He supposed that Knight had been unlucky in the past, never present in any general engagement and never perhaps in action at all. This was the fate of many a good officer, through no fault of his own, but Knight's over-eagerness was a little too apparent.
When the briefing was over, Delancey went to fetch Fiona and sent his boat to take her and Mrs Knight ashore.

“We live here,” explained Mrs Knight, “in an atmosphere of perpetual excitement, with drums and bugles and shouted words of command. Lower Deal is especially noisy and we shall have to pass through it on our way to Middle and Upper Deal, which are quieter and more respectable. I have a carriage of sorts to take us up the hill, which is otherwise a tedious walk indeed.”

The quayside, where they came ashore, was a scene of great activity and Mrs Knight pointed out the handbills on every wall, one of which particularly amused her: