Element of chance, p.25
Element of Chance, page 25
‘Is that normal?’ asked Harry.
‘The orders are,’ he replied.
‘And you obeyed them?’
Sandford avoided Harry’s eye, unwilling to meet a look which would imply that his friend knew just how many of his fellow officers would interpret such orders differently.
‘I think I caught sight of his topsails, but the wind favoured him. Worse than that, I missed the illegals. So much so that I half feared to enter such a miserable report, in case I risked some form of official censure. Yet now I find that I’m not alone. Poynton was in the harbour preparing for a refit but he’s been ordered back to sea. He rowed across to Diomede as soon as I anchored. He informs me that he suffered likewise, and that Effingham, who put back to sea yesterday, came in with a similar result.’
‘Don’t you spend any time in port?’ said Harry, with an angry scowl. ‘Toner barely touched before the admiral sent him to sea again.’
‘There’s nothing unusual in that. We all have the same orders. We anchor, revictual, receive outline instructions, and if all proceeds according to plan, weigh within 24 hours. Our final orders, with the exact location of our targets, are often given to us when we’re at single anchor. I almost feel sorry for Bessborough, especially with Vandegut writing to everyone he knows complaining loudly of the admiral’s abilities. The quick turnarounds are Captain Vandegut’s idea. He maintains we lose fewer men at sea than we do when they come ashore. And it also helps cover what is too large a canvas. If we doubled the ships we have we’d still be short.
‘So, goaded by Vandegut and prompted by necessity, Bessborough’s harried every captain on the station since Guadeloupe. Not that such a procedure does not suit him. It makes him look exceedingly zealous. I presume he wishes to ensure his reputation has a decent bulwark, should the business of Hugues continue to plague him. And there’s no doubt, Harry, that he’s right. Who knows what mischief the French would get up to without his vigilance? Trouble is, the enemy has shifted his ground. He finds that while he’s sought to contain them territorially, Hugues has turned his attention to playing the corsair. Now he’s got your two French frigates to contend with and given all the other things he must guard against, the poor man is at his wits’ end to know what to do about it.’
‘So this is not a new phenomenon?’
‘No. It’s been going on for months, I’m told. And if he hadn’t started taking our own shipping we might have never known. Poynton picked up the crews from the illegals he was set to intercept, so we know for sure about them. But reports are coming in from the other islands now listing just how many ships Hugues is taking, including those that we are set to intercept. He must have his own spies in the islands. Rumour has it that he’s taken near a quarter of a million in three months.’
Harry was surprised. But there was an element of admiration in his voice as well. ‘That’s quite staggering.’
Marcus Standford snorted angrily as he pulled out his watch and looked at it. ‘The staggering thing is the bloodless way he does it. I had words with Poynton, who informs me that not only did the man release the crews of his captures, he apologised for his behaviour, shared a glass of wine, then directed them to a point where Poynton would pick them up. I cannot find it in my heart to believe that the ogre I saw on the beach at Guadeloupe is the very same person who takes these ships without harming a soul. The Victor Hugues I saw wasn’t like that at all. He was just the type to string them all up from the yards, cut out their vitals, then toss them to the sharks.’
‘Perhaps he fears a hue and cry,’ said Harry. ‘Too many bodies spells a different kind of trouble.’
‘Perhaps you’re right, Harry. Anyway, I have my orders. I am, unusually, allowed a little time ashore to attend this dinner the admiral is giving for some general. But I dare say once the port has been passed I’ll be told to revictual and put to sea immediately. So, much as I am happy to see you again, I must return aboard.’
Sandford stood up, towering over the two seated brothers. ‘Bessborough told me about your run-in with those frigates. He doubts they’ll do more than touch at Guadeloupe, since Hugues is secure there. We have a lookout on Pigeon Island just in case. Bessborough’s considering sending his nephew to join Effingham with orders to take station off Grenada and Poynton’s refit has been postponed so that he can join him. I’ve to cruise to the south of Dominica, intercept them if they appear, and bottle them up in Roseau harbour if I can’t.’
Harry’s voice had a sad note as he replied. ‘Then I wish you joy, Marcus.’
Sandford picked it up, knowing it was the voice of a man who’d like nothing more than an equal contest with such a foe. ‘Come out to Diomede tomorrow, Harry. We shan’t weigh till late in the day. I would be mighty pleased to have you look her over. Then you can tell me all about those frigates. How they sail, their officers, and their gunnery.’
‘This service you alluded to, sir,’ said James, turning back to face the pair. ‘Do you have any notion of what Admiral Bessborough meant?’
‘None at all. Yet you have a fast, well-armed ship and no responsibilities. It takes no great leap of the imagination to see the way his mind may be working.’
There was a long silence which brought James’s mind back to what had been said earlier. He realised immediately that something was amiss. He felt his original supposition, the absurdity of Bessborough asking Harry for a service, to be correct. If anything the admiral owed a great deal more than he was entitled to ask for. He looked at Harry to see if he’d spotted the anomaly, only to observe that Marcus Sandford was the object of a very enquiring stare. Then he made the connection. Judging by the look in his brother’s eye, he’d clearly made it already. That it was Sandford who’d put his name forward, not Bessborough.
‘Was that Irishman Dillon consulted about this proposed service?’ asked James.
Sandford looked relieved to be able to turn away from Harry’s look. ‘He was. Bessborough makes few moves these days without asking someone’s opinion. Vandegut was involved, though I wouldn’t trust that his advice is above board. Damn me, the admiral even asked his nephew, who’s barely breached, which is damned insultin’.’
‘And?’
‘None really offered an opinion, either for the idea or against.’
‘Were they there when the idea was originally proposed?’ asked James.
Sandford blushed as he shook his head.
‘You are aware, Marcus, that Toner has illegally impressed half my crew?’
‘Indeed I am, Harry. And I said, despite his arguments to the contrary, that the good of the service demanded that they be released.’
‘Yet you also proposed, did you not, that I undertake a task which should fall to the navy, a task that will bring me no discernible gain?’
Sandford grinned as he picked up his hat and coat. ‘I don’t know about that, Harry. If you nobble a cove like Hugues you’ll be the toast of the nation. You might even get a call to tell your story to the king. Charm him enough and he might just give you a post captain’s commission.’
Harry’s face closed up. ‘Right now, Marcus, I’d settle for my crew.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THE MESSAGE caught Antoine de la Mery just as he was about to weigh anchor. The sight of the aviso heading flat out into the bay turned his stomach for a moment, since it smacked of impending danger. Diomede, even if she hadn’t come close, had definitely been looking for him, since he knew the ship was well off the station necessary to intercept illegals. The mongoose was in the shrouds, playing with a loose piece of hemp. He barely had time to pluck if off and hide it in the coach. As the two mulattos came alongside he could see no hint of panic in their dark-skinned faces. The one who climbed aboard had another oilskin pouch in his hand, which he handed to the Frenchman. Given a peremptory signal, his mate in the boat pushed off to a point where conversation with the Ariadne’s crew was impossible. Both men headed into his cabin, staying on deck would only expose them to curiosity. The pet, not being caged, was sniffing along the slight gap at the bottom the door, and scratching at it as if trying to gain access to the main cabin. De la Mery ignored it, which forced his visitor to do likewise. On the other side of the cabin the door to his sleeping cabin was open, exposing a cot swinging on the gentle swell, a cot which seemed to be occupied, judging by the naked foot hanging out at the bottom.
The Frenchman ripped the seals on the letter and began to read the coded Latin. His correspondent explained that given the burden of their work he was under great strain. A new arrival merely added to this, but that they could deflect the growing criticism if he was allowed a measure of freedom. Therefore, as far as he was concerned, the following masses were cancelled. But it was vital that he carry out the other masses listed at the second destination. The final passage went on to say that their success in converting the English heathens had incurred the wrath of the local bishops, an anger so great that they might be forced to desist completely. So, after this temporary alteration, one last effort should be made to rescue as many indigenous souls as possible. Then, if his fears proved correct, they could retire knowing that they had, to the best of their ability, carried out God’s holy work. As to the relics in his possession, they would be better returned to Europe than left to rot in the tropics; and he should propose a rendezvous where the responsibility for their passage home could be shared out.
His eyes stayed with the words passage home. Here was the moment of truth. The message might hint at doubt and be short on any details of how much of a threat existed. But, reading between the lines, he had none. Attacking those British merchantmen had been a mistake. The pieces of a puzzle that had been sustained by time, distance, and antipathy were combining to create a dangerous situation, one that should end quickly. His men would make up their own minds, but his opinion was clear. They should repair the ship and sail as a body to some convenient European destination, then, having secured a safe place for their funds, head home to France. But putting that to them would have to wait. First there were the ships listed at the bottom of the page, with dates a week hence. They were easily deciphered, and de la Mery was heartened to see that they were all neutrals. More telling still was the fact that his final act of piracy would take place off Guadeloupe, taking ships destined for Pointe-à-Pitre. He had a fleeting vision of his going ashore and taking vengeance on Victor Hugues, but he put it aside as a fantasy. Perhaps, when he took these ships, Hugues would be watching from the shore. That would go some way to providing a feeling of revenge, an emotion that Antoine de la Mery conjured up every time he thought of the Jacobin murderer.
Forcing his thoughts back to the present, he realised that his rendezvous at Martinique had been cancelled. He penned a swift acknowledgement, sealed it, then led the mulatto back on to the deck. As soon as he appeared his companion hauled his sail round to bring the aviso alongside the Ariadne. As soon as they were out of earshot he ordered his men to warp the ship into the jetty again. Once they’d taken to the boats, and had started to haul the ship’s head round towards the shore, he went back into his cabin. He had several days to kill, which would give him time to continue his experiments, as well as make arrangement for his final departure.
The Endymion’s marine drummer beat to quarters before first light, rousing out the watch below. The hands tumbled from their hammocks, then, harried by the curses and ropes’ ends of their warrant officers, they rolled them round their few personal possessions. Hustled up the companion-ways on to the deck, they proceeded to place them in the nettings that lined the side of the frigate, before rushing to take up their allotted stations. Some made for the shrouds, ready to go aloft and shorten sail, while others cast off the guns. Bulkheads disappeared as the carpenters’ mates struck them into the hold. The boats were being hauled over the side by the watch on deck, to be towed behind Endymion as she went into action. The master-at-arms unlocked the chains that secured the cutlasses and pikes, arranged in racks under the taffrail. Dunlop handed out pistols and shot to the officers, but kept secure the muskets that stood like sentinels outside Toner’s cabin. They would only be issued, if at all, to members of the lower deck at the last moment. The carpenter sorted out tools and plugs, and heated tar, all to fill leaks in the planking should the ship be holed; the surgeon arranged his instruments to deal with human wounds while his loblolly boy pushed the chests together in the cockpit to form a makeshift operating table. Meanwhile the gunner, surrounded by dampened screens, lit the lengths of slowmatch and filled bags of powder, handing them to the ship’s boys, who scurried about, delivering them to the guns. Down in the hold the servants packed away every stick of cabin furniture, and moved the animals from the manger. With the bulkheads down, and everything that wasn’t needed removed, Endymion had a clean sweep fore and aft.
The stars still shone overhead, but they were fading rapidly as the sun tinged the eastern horizon, throwing the black bulk of the island of Martinique into silhouette. The winds were light and the Endymion slid along, steering due south under reefed topsails towards the first of the places where Toner had been advised he could intercept some illegal shipping. Pender knew they must be close inshore, for Toner had a leadsman in the chains, calling off the depth of water below the ship’s keel. The top of the island began to turn bright green as the tropical forest was illuminated by the rapidly rising sun. There was a palpable air of excitement along the whole deck. After such a voyage, the prospect of some action played on the crew’s imagination. Garmond would have found few listeners for his seditious ideas at a moment like this. All the talk aboard was of booty and a run ashore with some money to spend. The voice from the masthead, with a better view than those on the deck, called out urgently.
‘Three o’ sail in the bay, Captain, with boats plying to and fro. Shifting cargo by the look of it.’
‘Mr Dunlop! It’s time tae man our boats. Issue cutlasses and boarding pikes. Take Mr Callander and his division. If those illegals have landed any cargo, I want it found and impounded. That is your paramount concern, sir. Prisoners are of secondary concern. I want a file of marines ashore an’ aw, to play on those ships, with musket fire from the shore.’
‘Aye, aye, sir,’ cried Dunlop, rushing towards the waist and shouting to his party to gather by the gangway.
Mr Midshipman Callander was already issuing his commands before the premier arrived. Half the men were busy hauling the hemp lines that would bring the boats alongside, while the others, under Pender’s direction, sorted out their armoury. The clink of metal was loud in the clear morning air as the swords, axes, and pikes were pulled from their racks. The light increased sufficiently for the crew to see the tops of three masts, the first sight of their quarry. Eager glances, and pointing fingers, were aimed towards the shore. Callander ordered ropes to be cast over the side and the men scrambled down. Being topmen, and therefore nimble, the seamen filled the boats in seconds. Without a word of command, Pender had taken to the barge, followed by the same group of men who’d rowed ashore with him at English Harbour. The air of quiet efficiency brought forth a surge of pleasure. It was the same in the other boats, with Harry Ludlow’s contingent needing no commands to sort out their respective stations. But quick as they were, they had to sit idle, waiting for the marines. With their muskets and rigid drill they were forced to come aboard through the gangway, a tedious and time-consuming manoeuvre accompanied by loud cursing from the impatient sailors. Finally Dunlop, who was to command the boats, took up station in the rear of the barge.
‘Haul away, lads,’ cried Callander, as soon as the premier nodded.
The oars bit into the water in unison, propelling the boat away from the side of the ship. Here, to leeward of Martinique, the swell was gentle, with no hint of that dangerous surf which came roaring in on the windward side from the deep Atlantic, propelled by the strength of the trade winds. Pender, acting as coxswain and steering the barge, now had a good view of the illegals riding at anchor with their sails furled. But the increasing light had alerted them to danger. The sound of agitated voices floated over the dark sea towards them. Boats were putting off from the shore in panic, with men falling over each other to get aboard.
The rumble of gun carriages filled the air, as the ports swung open and the Endymion’s cannon were run out. The row of black guns, appearing suddenly, looked sinister in the morning light, having the appearance of deadly teeth on some fearsome monster. Pender heard the shout of command just before the first gun fired, sending a long red flash out of the muzzle. The ball flew over their heads with a whoosh that made everyone crouch down. The passing ball was followed by a cloud of dense black smoke, which filled the air with the acrid smell of burnt powder.
Another command followed and the whole side of the ship erupted. The broadside, from men unused to aiming and firing their guns, fell either well short of the target or carried on to land soundlessly and uselessly on the soft white sand of the beach. Not a single ball came close to touching those three ships. It was terrible gunnery, given that they were firing from a reasonably steady platform. But that very inaccuracy worked in the barge crew’s favour. It convinced the men on the beach, who’d just pushed off in their boats, and whose numbers nearly matched the Endymions, that they were the prime target. The passing balls had made a loud enough crack in their ears to terrify them, and make them think twice about intercepting their assailants.
They hauled their bows round in panic and ran their boats back in to the sand, jumping out in a confused mass, then rushing up the beach to disappear in the lush undergrowth that lined the shore. The three small ships, trading ketches, were cutting their cables. The rigging on each ship was full of sailors and scraps of sail were now visible on their masts. Young Struan Callander, his face alight with excitement, stood up and, waving his sword, called to the premier.
‘Those on the shore seem to have abandoned any idea of a fight. Should we not steer for those vessels, sir? I’m sure we could board them before they get under way.’
