The Admirals' Game (7 page)

Hood looked hard at the note. ‘If I knew as much as you perhaps I would, but lacking that I shall not do so in a bold manner, Parker. Let's fish a little and see how Hotspur Harry responds.'

Hood, out of courtesy, stood as Hotham was announced; Parker did likewise because the man was his superior officer. Refreshment was offered and accepted, the necessary rituals were observed before, seated, they came to the business at hand.

‘I fear I was correct about the attempt on the
Sans Culottes
battery, milord.'

Parker responded. ‘Yet you accept it has to be kept engaged, sir?'

The nod and the wave of the hand were at odds with each other, more a sign of impatience than agreement. What followed was a general and pointless review of the situation, which had not changed since the day the French handed over the port. The perimeter to be held was too great for the available forces and was getting worse; the Jacobins were being reinforced, the besieged
were not receiving fresh forces at the right pace and this was allowing the enemy to hold and keep the initiative.

‘In which case,' Hotham said, ‘I refer to the memorandum I sent to you prior to this visit, my renewed suggestion of a combined assault on that redoubt by both boats and land forces.'

‘To what end, Admiral?'

‘Why, to destroy it, of course.'

Hood was unsure if Hotham was a fool, or just playing ducks and drakes in a command where he had no authority, and thus no risk of personal censure. This clown had been present when that idea had been examined and discarded. He had no end of military advice, from his own top soldier, Lord Mulgrave, whom he trusted, as well as every senior officer of each nation represented. If anything he was pressed by too many opinions, not too few.

‘A pretty notion, sir, but I am sure I told you before, if we cannot hold the ground we will achieve no more than a diminution of our already stretched forces. It cannot be taken without incurring casualties and we would likely be kicked out of the position damn quick. While it is doing damage it is not yet a serious threat.'

‘We might be able to hold it!'

‘I cannot see how, sir,' Hood replied, his impatience beginning to show. ‘All we would do is to create an unsustainable salient, and put the men required to remain there at risk of even heavier bombardment. The French
method of advance means they have strong battery positions which can play on that part of the shoreline, and given they have men in abundance, how long do you think it will be before they launch a counter-attack? No, if we cannot push the enemy back from all the positions they occupy and hold them—'

‘I fear if we just stand on the defensive we invite the enemy to be bold. If you will give permission for such an assault, I would be happy to execute it.'

‘Personally?'

‘No. I have in mind that a boat attack could be led by Captain Barclay…'

Hood picked up a piece of paper from the table, sent over earlier by Hotham. ‘Whom you wish me to elevate to the command of HMS
Leander
.'

‘He is, to my mind, worthy of the promotion.'

Hood had to suck in his cheeks then, in order to remain calm; this was his fleet, not Hotham's. He was the c-in-c, so he had the choice of whom to promote and whom to ignore, and he also had officers to whom he was obligated. Hotham was pushing him because of his influence in London.

‘And what other officers would you suggest, sir?' asked Parker, seeing a forthcoming explosion.

That got another airy wave; if he noticed Hood was upset it did not seem to concern him. ‘There is no shortage of officers willing to carry out such a task.'

‘Open boats, against well-sited cannon,' said Hood. ‘An attack across five hundred yards of soft sand, with a
well-defended outwork to overcome. Hot work, I think. I trust Captain Barclay is game?'

‘I cannot believe any officer would decline to take part because it was
hot
.'

The last emphasised word was damned cheek as far as Hood was concerned. ‘If you wish to attempt an attack by boats, I will sanction it, but I will not add any land forces to aid you.'

‘Then the affair is useless.'

Hood knew it to be far from that. Hotham had made his previously verbal, and denied, suggestion in writing, and that would be read by his political cronies; the man would also demand that the c-in-c reply in kind, so the whole thing was just a smokescreen to make him look zealous while his superior appeared tardy – in short another stick with which to beat him.

Parker was watching his chief closely; he knew his temperament was not of the kind to be toyed with, and Hotham was coming on stronger than even he thought possible, behaving as though he was invulnerable. He had thought the note he had sent over alerting him to the intentions of John Pearce might modify his behaviour; clearly that was not the case. He saw the c-in-c swell up to respond, and while he would have phrased differently what Hood finally said, the sentiment might not have differed greatly.

‘Admiral Hotham,' Hood growled. ‘This is a fleet on service, is it not?'

The response was a nod of some condescension.

‘It is not a political club.'

‘I fail to see—'

Hood blew then. ‘You see only too well, sir! You think by undermining me to replace me.'

‘I protest.'

‘I don't give a damn, sir, protest away.'

‘Milord,' said Parker, with a look begging for calm; Hotham was not the only one capable of going too far.

‘I do not care to be addressed in this manner,' Hotham spluttered.

Hood's voice, though it ceased to be as harsh, was, in its even, low tone, more menacing by far. ‘I do not give a fig for what you care, sir. I am your superior officer, and if I choose to berate you I have the right. You come here with a plan already dismissed with sound reasons that has no other object than to embarrass me with the government.'

Hotham stood, and Hood shouted. ‘Sit down, sir, and that is an order! If you disobey I will send you home.' Hotham did not sink into the chair, he collapsed. ‘What would happen if I agreed to save my face? Who would you have sent to near certain perdition along with Barclay? And what is this nonsense of promoting him into a fourth rate? Is this the same fellow who has just been reprimanded in a court martial?'

‘He's a deserving officer.'

‘He's a poltroon, and he will stay where he is.'

‘I have given my assurances—'

‘Then un-give them, sir, and in speaking of his court
martial, I am minded not to confirm the findings.'

‘You gave your word.'

‘I did so in the belief that I had your backing in the matter of sending home those five thousand French seamen. Yet my correspondence from London indicates to me that you have made plain you disagreed.'

‘I made aware some of my reservations to those who are rightly concerned.'

‘Which is what I will do with the findings of your court. I will keep my word and confirm the verdict, but with
my
reservations.' It was now Hood who stood up. ‘I thank you for attending upon me, Sir William.'

As a dismissal it was brutal, but as a red-faced Hotham took his hat from Hood's steward, the words that the commanding officer used next struck at his very being.

‘Parker, send for Lieutenant Pearce, I have a duty for him to perform, one for which he is admirably suited, and one that has nothing to do with sacrificing himself on some fruitless assault to save another's skin.'

For Parker a penny dropped, a realisation that had obviously occurred to Lord Hood before it had to him, which was wounding to an officer who thought himself more cunning than his commander. Hood had nailed the reason which had eluded him: the assault Hotham wanted to carry out would be dangerous if not suicidal. Hotham would make sure Pearce was a part of it, maybe even Barclay as well. That note had had an effect after all.

‘Would I be permitted to say that was unwise, sir?' Parker said, as the door was closed behind the chastened visitor.

Hood seemed to deflate. ‘Say what you like, Parker, but I have had enough of swaying to satisfy Billy Pitt. Let the sods replace me if they wish, and I wish them joy of Admiral Sir William bloody Hotham.'

Up at Fort Malbousquet, Ralph Barclay was supervising the digging of a deep trench, which would slow down any infantry assault on the earthworks protecting the redoubt and its cannon, but he was not really concentrating; instead he was imagining his new cabin, and also the possibility that his wife would see his promotion to a larger ship as vindication of his actions. Perhaps, with a new home to furnish, she would be less of a termagant.

This he did while Sir William Hotham was seething and cogitating, on the thwarts of his barge, on how to dish Hood, and what he might have to do to protect himself.

HMS
Faron
was at sea again, upping anchor from off Toulon at first light, once more charged with a special mission, which seemed on the very edge of the purpose for which the warship had been constructed. Digby had strict orders to keep his cannon housed – to avoid action – and to do no more than act as a support to the efforts of an extremely disgruntled John Pearce. If that man was unhappy, Henry Digby was not; as he had said at dinner, he was really too junior for command of this vessel and had expected to be ordered out of her as soon as she returned from the Bay of Biscay; Pearce was not alone in finding the space and solitude of a captain's cabin enticing.

The journey was of short duration, east to Villefranche, a town that, despite its name, was legally part of the Kingdom of Sardinia. The French armies had seized
nearby Nice, and now claimed this whole area as an integral part of
La Patrie
. In the bay lay two enemy frigates, and there were grounds to believe that those who officered them shared the same reservations about the Revolution as their counterparts who had rebelled in Toulon. If they could be persuaded to raise the fleur de lys in a like manner, and sail to join Lord Hood, it would hearten the defence and deal another blow to the madmen in Paris.

Pearce was once more cursed with his knowledge of French, and for a second time HMS
Faron
would be required to fly a flag of truce. He had a communication from Hood himself, another from Admiral Lángara, who led the Spanish forces, plus a letter from Rear Admiral Trogoff, the French commander at Toulon, this so that the frigate captains should be in no doubt that they would be welcomed by the entire allied command.

After a long, hot summer, and no sign yet of the autumn rains, the coastline they sailed along was light brown in colour, a parched landscape with steeply rising hills behind, which appeared blue-grey in the haze of the day. Heavily forested, from time to time billowing smoke rose skywards, evidence perhaps of burning fields of stubble or of fires which had broken out in areas of dry and combustible timber. The smell that came off the land was a combination of dry, burnt earth, pinewood and a definite hint of thyme while, with the sun shining, the waters were deep blue, in short, an aspect to lift a man's soul. Once they had weathered Cap d'Antibes
the land faded as they held a course further out to sea. Villefranche needed to be approached from due south to avoid the ship alerting the garrison in Nice.

‘Well, Mr Neame?' asked a cheerful Digby. ‘What do we face?'

‘A fine, deep water anchorage, sir, maybe the best deep bay along the whole part of this coast, barring Toulon itself, suitable for the largest vessels provided there is not a strong incoming tide.'

Ahead of them, on the slightly canted deck, John Pearce was supervising the crew at their early morning duties, swabbing, sanding and flogging dry the deck with the relaxed air of men not troubled by foul wind and driving rain; it was getting warm as the sun rose higher, but not yet hot, with breeze enough to sail easy, one cool enough to dry off both the planking and any hint of perspiration.

Pearce might be in charge of the operation, but his mind was engaged elsewhere. Hood had not even bothered to see him, that had been left to Parker, but the message had been blunt: help us and we might be persuaded to aid you. It was the ‘might' which was a worry, because Parker had made it plain what was on offer would be as a reward for services rendered. Pearce was inclined, when supping with such devils, to prefer a long spoon; payment in advance was better than the promise of any subsequent reward.

‘It's perfectly simple,' Parker had said, with an infuriating air of self-satisfaction. ‘We are informed that
the French Army is well to the east on the borders of Italy, and thus in no position to interfere. The naval officers you need to see should be on their ships and they are likely to be as disaffected as the fellows in Toulon. All you need do is give them the dispatches we will compose, there is no need to add any words of your own. I am sure you will find it as easy as kissing my hand, and it is an area in which you do have experience.'

Pearce had looked at Parker closely then; a great deal of what had happened at La Rochelle had not been entered in the ship's log, while every member of the
Faron
's crew had been sworn to secrecy. Had it leaked out? Was that why he was being elbowed into undertaking this mission? Parker's next words at least eased his concerns on that score.

‘It's no different to the mission you embarked on here before we took over Toulon.'

Pearce had been sent on a mission to contact the senior French officers with an offer from Hood. His first trip had proceeded smoothly; the second had not. ‘Might I remind you, sir, that on that occasion I came close to forfeiting my life?'

‘You were,' Parker replied unctuously, ‘at some risk, Lieutenant, but I doubt your life was threatened.'

And it is one, Pearce thought, you would surrender without turning a hair. He kept that to himself. Under Parker's hand lay the transcripts of Ralph Barclay's court martial. That was the proposed arrangement: help get those two frigates out of Villefranche and into the
harbour at Toulon and he would be allowed to see the actual testimony each witness had given, priceless if he was to nail the participants for perjury.

‘Cap Ferrat coming up dead ahead, sir,' called Neame. ‘We will open the Bay of Villefranche as soon as we clear it.'

‘Mr Harbin, see to the flag of truce.'

The boy rushed to obey and within a minute the ensign of a vice admiral's command was lowered to be replaced with a huge expanse of billowing pure white, made large so there could be no mistaking the mission on which the ship was engaged.

‘Mr Pearce, I would suggest it is time for you to change from your working garments into your best uniform.'

Weathering the low rocky outcrop of Cap Ferrat, the depth and suitability of the bay was immediately obvious, as were the two fine frigates laying at double anchor under fortress guns, sails bowed up tight to their yards, while behind, fronted by a long strand of near-white sand and a small harbour full of fishing boats, stood a walled town of light-brown stone. The high castle, which protected the ships, was well placed to defend the whole anchorage and, judging by the movement, the sight of HMS
Faron
had brought people to the battlements. Could they be gunners? Digby had orders to do nothing to alarm any defenders; he was to stay out of range of land-based or ships' cannon and send Pearce in by boat.

Neame brought the sloop up into the wind, backing her sails to kill any forward motion and, once stationary,
the cutter was hauled in from its tow, to be stepped with a stanchion bearing a smaller replica flag of truce. Michael O'Hagan was first into the boat, hiding a pair of cutlasses under the thwarts, having said loudly before they ever opened the bay that he ‘would need to go along with John-boy, and armed, given his habit of getting into trouble.'

Pearce had availed himself of a canvas satchel, which he slung over his shoulder and as soon as he clambered inelegantly down into the cutter – it was not an art he had mastered, the transfer from ship to boat on a swell – the man acting as coxswain ordered the lines to be cast off.

‘Easy now, lads,' Pearce said. ‘No haste is necessary.'

‘Sure it will be grand if that be the case on our return,' said O'Hagan.

Usually John Pearce took Michael's comments in good grace. Not this time; the Irishman got a cold glare.

As they approached the side of the first frigate, the one bearing a commodore's pennant, Pearce called out the name of his vessel, only realising that with it being named after the mountain that enclosed Toulon, it might act as a red rag, especially to men who would very likely know the ship. To them, if they did recognise her, it would be by her original French name of
Mariette
. In order to cover that potential gaffe he shouted ‘Ahoy!' as well.

‘
Bandine
,' came the reply.

In French, Pearce asked for permission to close, and that was granted until, under the lee of the ship's
scantlings, he found himself talking to a youngish fellow in a scruffy light-blue coat, who identified himself as ‘
un sous-lieutenant de vaisseau
.'

The bearer of the satchel was obliged to identify himself in a manner which always made him feel like a fraud, whatever language he used. ‘Lieutenant John Pearce,
de la marine du roi britannique. Je voudrais parler avec votre capitaine, monsieur
.'

‘
Malheureusement, mon capitaine n' est pas ici
.'

Further questioning established that both captains, of
Bandine
as well as the other frigate
Vestale
, were living ashore, not on their ships, which given the fact that a formidable enemy fleet was not far off, was pretty slack behaviour. But, of course, Villefranche was, like every bay on this part of the coast, backed by high hills, which provided good advance warning of any hostile approach. Indeed his ship must have been spotted and reported on well before it ever weathered Cap Ferrat.

Pearce explained that he had letters for those officers, and who they were from, which got him no more than a Gallic shrug. With no notion of how to proceed he enquired when they would be likely to be aboard, only to be given a second gesture of ignorance. As this had not been anticipated he had no option but to ask this junior lieutenant to send a message ashore and ask if they would consent to a meeting, a request which was agreed, leaving Pearce to wonder if he should just lay off and wait, or row back and hope for some kind of signal.

To just wallow here off the side of the frigate would
imply a degree of nervousness, and apart from that he had no idea how long such a wait would be. The boat had neither water nor any other means of sustenance – they would be sat here under a hot sun with no protection and in grave danger of the oarsmen missing their dinner – so after another brief exchange he arranged that a signal gun should be fired as soon as someone he could talk to had come aboard.

‘Out of their ships, Pearce,' said Digby, in the cool of his cabin, this to an inferior who would dearly have liked to slip off his coat. ‘Of course, they do things differently in the French Navy, but we would likely be keelhauled for such a dereliction.'

‘It does not indicate an excess of zeal.'

‘Which makes easier your mission, does it not? I rather feared we might open the bay to find those two frigates with their guns run out and their sails set ready to engage.'

‘And no doubt,' Pearce responded in a slightly querulous tone, ‘you would have been obliged to send me over to parley with them regardless.'

‘I would, indeed. I have my orders.'

A slight boom reverberated across the anchorage, but protocol obliged Digby to wait to be told what it portended. ‘Mr Harbin's compliments, sir, the Frogs have just fired a signal gun.'

‘Mr Pearce.'

Another slow trip between vessels brought him face to face with the same fellow, only to find that the officers
he hoped to meet were still ashore, though there was a written invitation that he and his captain, once the Frenchman had established there was one, should meet his superiors on land, under their flag of truce. All the toing and froing had used up the day; the sun was well on its way to sinking in the west, so Pearce suggested a meeting early in the morning.

‘Any possibility of devilry, Mr Pearce?' asked a worried Digby.

‘I cannot say it is impossible, sir, though I rate it unlikely. They will hardly come after us in the dark when they could have done so easily in the day. Besides, we are under a truce flag.'

‘I have had occasion to doubt the protection of that before.'

‘And I seem to recall it was misplaced, sir.'

‘Nevertheless we will haul off tonight and get ourselves some sea room as a precaution.'

‘The invitation to go ashore extends to us both,' Pearce reminded him.

‘I know,' Digby replied, with a slight furrowing of the brow. ‘But I do not see what my presence adds to things. Let me sleep on it.'

John Pearce had not enjoyed his day any more than he relished his mission, and he was beginning to feel like a sacrificial lamb, this while his superior sat out in the bay ready to flee if matters went awry.

‘It would be a shame to jeopardise matters for an exercise of caution which may prove unnecessary, sir.'
Just before Digby welled up to protest at an imputation of excessive personal caution, Pearce added, ‘I doubt it is something Lord Hood would appreciate.'

Digby repeated his decision to sleep on it, but Pearce knew, in the face of that comment, he would not be going ashore alone.

Sir William Hotham toyed with the hard-shelled nut in his hand, while in the other the implement designed to crack it lay idle. His mind was not, however, in the same state; in fact, if it could be said to be so in such an individual, it was agitated, and the cause was Ralph Barclay. Had he gone too far in support of the fellow and exposed himself? And how was he going to tell him that his proposed elevation to a 74-gun ship had been denied by Hood without a loss of face?

To be second-in-command of a fleet was enough to chafe at the soul of any man, to be inferior to a man with whom you had nothing in common was purgatory. His views, prior to the takeover in Toulon, had been ignored. Hood, with Parker advising him, had made an arrangement with the French admiral Trogoff that smacked to Hotham of disloyalty to his own fellow sailors and his government. What did the man mean by holding the enemy fleet in trust? Was he proposing, should the Revolution collapse, to hand back to a restored French king all the ships now under British control?

Hotham's correspondence with his political allies at home had certainly questioned the arrangement and if
they had not gone as far as to doubt Hood's sanity, they had most certainly implied that his judgement was deeply flawed, the concomitant of that being he should be relieved, which would naturally mean his own rise to the command. So far he had good grounds, taken from the replies he had received, to feel his views were considered sound, which meant his supporters could apply pressure on William Pitt and a king who had no love for Lord Hood, to call the man home. Farmer George might prove sticky – he disliked Whigs more than he disliked Hood.