So Near So Far (21 page)

”Qui vive? What gunboat is that?”

“Numéro 379, damaged after an encounter with the enemy.”

“Bring her in closer.”

“What was that? I can't hear you.”

“Bring her in so that I can check the number.”

“I can't hear you. I'll report back when the gunboat is safely moored.”

“I must see her first.”

“What's that? Who am I? I am Delacroix, frigate captain.”

All this time the gunboat was drawing away from the sentry post and she was actually out of earshot before the discussion ended. Ahead lay the mass of gunboats, moored, as Delancey had heard, to mooring chains stretched across the basin and supported by buoys. To reach the centre of the flotilla seemed at first impossible, the craft being so close together. Heading to port, Delancey hoped to find an empty berth. There was none but there was space at the end of the line and
Panic
proceeded slowly along that side of the basin. Once more there seemed to be no room between the crowded vessels. When the gap appeared Delancey had almost given up hope of finding it. There had to be a passage somewhere, however, if only to allow the French to row guard, and there it was, narrow but sufficient.

“Starboard—hard over!” said Delancey and the
Panic
passed into a sort of corridor, with gunboats moored on either side. He looked again for a gap and in vain. One thing clear, however, was that all the craft were unmanned, the guards being all on the quayside. So the opportunity existed to make a gap where there was none. Bringing
Panic
up to a gunboat which seemed to be in about the middle of the line, Delancey jumped
on board and presently was able to study the system of moorings. There were chains, as he had expected, but each individual gunboat was moored to its chain by an ordinary hemp cable which went round her foremast before being bent to a solid cleat in the vessel's bows. To unbend the cable was a simple matter and Delancey, having freed one gunboat, returned to
Panic
and told his oarsmen to back water. With the ebb tide's assistance they pulled that gunboat out. Repeating the manoeuvre with a second one, beyond the first, Delancey set both of them adrift and fastened
Panic
by the same means to the chain where the second gunboat had been moored. After bringing the boat alongside, Delancey gave the order to remove the tarpaulin and throw it overboard. When that had been done he gave Renouf the order to light the fuses. Four men lit their linstocks from the hidden lantern and scrambled along the gunboat, lighting the fuses with all the speed they had gained in rehearsal. It was quickly done but the French took alarm at this moment. Some sentry may have seen the pinpoints of light or heard the drifting gunboats bump into each other. A shot was fired in the air and this was followed, within a minute or two, by the sound of a distant bugle.

“Man the boat!” said Delancey, and followed the others only after he had seen the half-conscious Northmore helped aboard.

“Give way—and
pull!
” was Delancey's next order and he told the coxswain to steer to port, his aim being to return by the other side of the basin, the far side, that is, from his line of entry. This was partly on principle, partly because the bugle call had come from the other direction. With the alarm already given, escape was going to be very difficult indeed.

Delancey's boat, a cutter, reached the end of the passage and
turned to starboard when the far quayside was reached. There was no challenge so far and, looking back, Delancey could see nothing of the pinpoints of light which they had left, flickering, on board
Panic.
That did not mean that they were invisible from the higher level of the wharf. Assuming that these had been seen, the French would react by sending an armed boat into the basin with orders to investigate, and Delancey felt a moment of sympathy for the young officer to whom this duty would fall. There might be twenty minutes to go (give or take five minutes either way) but who was to know that? Another and more distant bugle sounded and then the noise could be heard of men running at the double on the far side of the basin. Delancey was about to tell his oarsmen to put their backs into it but he realised that they were doing their best, knowing the situation as well as he did. Their bow wave was smacking against the stonework as they passed. Now they were at the corner of the basin and turned sharply to starboard.

It was while they were approaching the entrance to the basin that Delancey, who was listening for it, heard the approach of the guard boat. A young officer's voice could be heard, accompanied by the creak of the rowlocks and the splash of the oars. Both boats were nearing the entrance, although from opposite directions, and Delancey guessed that the French boat would be there first. That he was right about this was confirmed when the French boat hailed the men on guard. He could distinguish no actual words but could imagine some youngster asking, “Which way did they go?” or words to that effect. With any luck words and gestures would induce the guard boat to turn left. Consulting his watch by the light of the hidden lantern, Delancey saw that it was fifteen minutes since the fuses were
lit. In theory at least the guard boat might be there in time.

“Vast pulling!” he whispered, and his boat glided silently towards the entrance. As he did so he glimpsed the French boat rounding the far side and pulling away from him. “Pass me a musket!” he muttered and was handed one which he checked and found to be loaded and primed. “Hard a-port!” he whispered to the coxswain and the boat drifted slowly towards the entrance. Before the corner was fairly turned and while the guard boat was still in sight he aimed at it carefully and fired. It may be doubted whether he hit his target but the result was very much what he expected. The boat turned sideways, his fire was returned, and then the boat swung back towards him. The musket balls spattered the quayside harmlessly and he knew that
Panic
was now pretty safe from interference. At the same moment he became aware of another French boat approaching the entrance from the river. To avoid an encounter with her—and hoping that this boat would be fired upon by the other—he told the coxswain to creep close to the stonework to port, hoping thus to be less visible. These tactics were successful up to a point, the newcomers being distracted by the recent sound of firing within the basin.

“Pull for dear life!” Delancey whispered and his boat headed for the river. He glanced again at his watch—about five minutes still to go. At that moment a solid object—presumably a round shot—was dropped from the quayside above him and crashed through the bottom of the boat. Whipping off his boat cloak he stuffed it into the hole, which was just beyond stroke, and held it in position.

“Starboard!” he shouted, and the next round shot fell clear of the boat, splashing the oarsmen but doing no other damage.
They had taken a lot of water on board, however, and would do well to keep afloat for another ten minutes even with bailing. But now there was a new danger. As they drew away from the quayside, avoiding the cold shot, they became a better target for musketry. He heard an officer giving the word for a volley and the muskets fired together. Most of the shots missed but two men were hit and the boat was holed again somewhere forward.

“Pull!” he shouted. “Hard a-port!”

Still under fire, the boat turned the corner and was safe, more or less, from the other danger; the one the French did not know about. The range was lengthening for the marksmen on the quayside but the second guard boat was in full pursuit. Delancey's boat was likely to sink in another five minutes and his only consolation lay in the fact that
Hauteville
could be seen and was coming their way. Help was at hand but would probably come too late for the wounded and the non-swimmers. Turning to the coxswain, Hemsley, Delancey said, “I want you and Sapworth to save Mr Northmore when this boat sinks. You are both good swimmers and he is too good a man to lose.”

At that moment
Panic
exploded with a noise like the end of the world. For an instant the whole scene was light as day. Then it was dark again but with grenades bursting all over the basin and some of them falling harmlessly into the river. It was impossible to judge what damage the gunboats had sustained but there was a dull flickering light which suggested that at least some of them were on fire. Watching, fascinated, Delancey suddenly found that he was up to his knees in water. The boat was sinking beneath him.

“There is the
Hauteville!
” he shouted to his men, pointing.

”Swim for it!” The swimmers obeyed at once, Hemsley and Sapworth supported Northmore with an oar under each arm, and Delancey told the non-swimmers to use their oars to support them. Then he threw off his coat and swam after Northmore, cursing meanwhile, to find the water so cold. In the ordinary way all the swimmers could have been overtaken by the pursuing guard boat.

What saved them was the French attempt to save the remainder. By the time the last of these had been rescued (and only one was drowned) those who could swim were on board
Hauteville.
Nor did it immediately occur to the Frenchmen that
Hauteville
was anything but what she seemed, one of their own gunboats showing the correct recognition lights. As the guard boat came within hail, Delancey shouted in French “Well done! We have the other prisoners on board. They must all be raving mad! Did they expect to escape? Anyway we have them now.” Going about smartly the
Hauteville
began to drop down river on the ebb. Shivering and wet through as he was, Delancey had still to save the rest of his men. For the moment, it would seem, the French were stunned by the explosion. They would react later and look with immediate suspicion on any vessel seen leaving harbour. By tomorrow incidentally, half a dozen officers, naval and military, would be under arrest and facing a court martial. Delancey had a passing moment of pity for the youngster who commanded the first guard boat to appear. He had turned back when fired on—well, who wouldn't?—but he doubted whether the French were in the mood to accept excuses.

Proceeding down river among all the anchored fishing boats,
Hauteville
was repeatedly hailed by men on harbour watch who
wanted to know what had happened. His teeth chattering, Delancey shouted to each in turn that there had been an explosion in the new basin and that nobody as yet knew the cause. Were the English responsible? To this question, when it came, Delancey replied that they could never have penetrated the defences. The explosion must have been an accident due to someone's carelessness.
Hauteville
's passage down the river was surprisingly uneventful. If she ran into trouble it would be in the harbour mouth and perhaps with the same guard boat. The trick, he knew, was to seize the initiative. As they drew near the entrance he could see that a guard boat was fairly in their way. When within hail he asked questions first.

“Has any vessel left harbour since that explosion was heard?”

“No, Captain, and we have been here since nightfall.”

“No craft has passed you, not even a rowing boat?”

“No, Captain. What has happened though?”

“We don't know. We think, however, that the explosion was probably accidental. Supposing it were an English crime, typical of these treacherous pigs, we mustn't let the criminals escape. We have been sent to give you support. Tell the gunners ashore that you have been joined by Gunboat Number 379.”

Hauteville
hove to while the guard boat ran its errand. After some shouting in the distance Delancey made sail again and presently took up position just outside the harbour mouth, an obvious menace to any craft attempting to escape. His position was impeccable but the ebb tide slowly carried him seawards and he was presently out of sight in the darkness. An hour later he was on board
Vengeance
and heading for base.

“Thank God that's over,” he said to Mather. “Our losses are small and Northmore is recovering well from a knock on the
head. We did all we set out to do. Renouf and Syvret behaved very properly in a situation of peril. I am not sure what I am going to say about Le Couteur.”

“Well, sir, you would hardly question that
Pauline
was damaged.”

“Yes, but how seriously? Or were a couple of shot-holes being used as an excuse?”

“We shall have the carpenter's report, sir.”

“So we shall. I never thought that Le Couteur was a particularly active officer. I am glad to think that he is not one of mine.”

“What havoc, sir, was caused by the explosion?”

“I have no means of knowing. It took place as planned, in the middle of the basin and we saw the grenades scattering in all directions. Half of them will have been wasted but some of the incendiaries may have found a target.”

“And the flames would spread, surely, from one gunboat to another?”

“I doubt it, Mr Mather. Seamen, dockyard workers, and soldiers should have been there in ten minutes. All fires would be extinguished in twenty minutes after that. No, we have shaken their self-confidence. The actual damage done will be small, perhaps negligible.”

“I hope, nevertheless, that your own leadership will be recognised.”

“It won't even be made public. I was under orders to direct the attack, leaving the operation to Le Couteur and others. I don't even know how to word my report or to whom credit should be given. Through no fault of his own, Northmore was out of it. I shall have no words of praise for Le Couteur. Renouf
and Syvret are mere children, neither of them ready for a commission. As for me, I had no business to be there at all.”

“It is a miracle, sir, that you are alive.”

“Alive, yes, but very exhausted and very wet. I shall go below and turn in. Take the frigate back to the Downs but call me, of course, in case of need.”

Delancey went to bed but failed at first to sleep. The purpose of his raid had been mainly political, to show Parliament and public that the government recently returned to power had introduced a new vigour into the waging of war. Rear-Admiral Knight would have gained approval and perhaps even some official sign of recognition. Pitt and Dundas would be pleased. But what of the French reaction? Napoleon would be furious. The explosion had been in the presence of the French army or a large part of it. Its importance could, of course, be minimised. It could be described as a mere pinprick. But the fact remained that the British had gone into the inner harbour at Boulogne and it was quite useless to pretend that their attempt had failed. French soldiers, who were to embark under the protection of French seamen, would begin to regard the planned invasion as suicidal. The seamen who would be responsible for transporting the Army of England could not even keep the British out of the gunboat basin at Boulogne. If the British could do that at the main point of embarkation, what would they do to the invasion craft in mid-Channel? If the Emperor were to restore morale he would have to strike back quickly not with propaganda but with action. What would he do? Putting himself in Napoleon's place, Delancey tried to think of a counter-stroke, an exploit for which the resources existed and which would overshadow recent events at Boulogne. It was no easy problem
but Napoleon was no ordinary man. What was Britain's most vulnerable point and how could it be reached?