So Near So Far (16 page)

“We are going to raid Epineville, gentlemen, a small French port which we recently inspected. You may recall that its
defences appeared to be weak. My guess would be that such cannon as they have mounted there are manned by fishermen volunteers—men like our Fencibles—people who are slow to assemble and whose aim will be indifferent. I have no doubt that there are some troops there but not, I suspect, very impressive or numerous. Our object is to capture a fishing vessel and I have made a sketch to indicate the craft I want. When we looked at Epineville I counted seven fishing boats of a reasonable tonnage, two of them much larger than the rest, and all beached at low tide. The two bigger ones were the third and fourth from the left. My impression was that the third was in better shape than the others, but this might be due to a recent coat of paint. I want the better of the two, anyway, and I want her undamaged if possible. The other should be set on fire, which will add to the confusion and help cover your withdrawal. I fully realise, of course, that these vessels may have been moved or may have changed places—I could give you only the latest information we have. For this service, Mr Northmore, you will have the launch and a picked crew, well armed, together with eight marines commanded by Sergeant Blake. It will be the task of the seamen to bring away the fishing vessel. It will be the task of the marines to capture a prisoner or two—some fishermen and, if possible, a soldier. It is my hope that Mr Northmore can perform this service with the men he is to lead. Should he need help, however, Mr Topley will follow in the cutter with a further detachment. Should that assistance prove insufficient I shall bombard the town. It will be a moonless night and our approach must be silent. High tide should be at 2:00 A
.M.
and I shall launch our assault at 1:30 A
.M.
with the tide still rising but with some possibility of bringing the captured vessel out on the ebb. It may occur to
you that a fishing boat is a small prize to show for the effort we are to make. That is indeed the truth. This is not an affair of prize-money but an effort to secure a French fishing boat for a special purpose. When she has been secured and is well out to sea we shall burn the old craft we have in tow. Seeing this, the French will conclude that we are disappointed in our capture and that the fishing boat has been destroyed. She will not have been destroyed but will presently be anchored at the head of Trinity Bay, unseen by such enemy agents as there may be in Deal.”

“Forgive me for raising the question, sir,” said Mather, “but this raid would seem to justify the employment of a commissioned officer.”

“So indeed it would, Mr Mather, but it is the preliminary to a more important raid and I am not risking my lieutenants in the meanwhile. I have every confidence in Mr Northmore, who has seen a great deal of active service. Any other questions? No? Then be so good, Mr Mather, to see that the boats are properly manned and armed. That will be all, gentlemen.”

The frigate hove to in darkness about half a mile from Epineville. Delancey had decided not to anchor because of the noise that would be made by the cable. He kept under sail while the launch was manned and then gave Northmore the order to go in. With muffled rowlocks the launch pulled away and with no sign of alarm from the shore. With Mather, Delancey paced the deck, talking quietly about the problems Northmore would have to face.

“There are bound to be sentries on the beach, whose muskets will give the alarm. The French batteries will be manned in ten minutes but will have no target until somebody remembers to fire starshell. It remains to be seen what troops will
counter-attack the beach but it is the more rash of these who may end as our prisoners.”

“May I ask you, sir, why the taking of prisoners should be of such moment?”

“It is chiefly their uniform clothing I want so that we can afterwards man the captured fishing boat with men who will pass as Frenchmen. The costumes must be exactly right. Infantry uniforms we shall need later on—specimens, merely, that we can imitate. If our efforts succeed we shall have, in the end, a French gunboat which will be exactly like any other save in the one respect that it will be on our side. Such a craft might be the origin of vast confusion and might even—who knows?—do some considerable damage.”

In the sternsheets of the launch Northmore was holding to a compass bearing, the scattered lights on shore affording him no clue to his target. His oarsmen rowed steadily, and no one spoke a word. After twenty minutes or so he could just make out the line of the breakers but the sea was calm and nothing could be heard. Then, at long last, he could make out the position of the fishing craft and altered course so as to head for the third from the left. As the launch neared her, he could see that she was moored, head on to the beach, by the bows and stern. There was nobody aboard her, seemingly, and no one near. So the launch was brought quietly alongside her and he as quietly climbed aboard. His difficulty was now to assess the value of the craft without seeing her in daylight. He had brought a lantern with him, however, and lit it when he was below decks. She was a common type of vessel with a central hold for the fish, a forecastle for the men, and two small cabins aft for the skipper and mate. She would probably measure about eighty tons. Her state of repair was good but she was plainly an old
vessel and the smell was horrible. He extinguished the lantern, came on deck, and dropped quietly into the boat. Without a word he motioned the oarsmen to push off, steering the launch towards the next vessel, the fourth. She, too, was deserted and he was able to inspect her in the same way. She was rather bigger than the first and was not so old. He came to the conclusion that this was the better one and was only sorry that he could not inspect her rigging. Anyway, his choice had been made and it remained to see how to free her from her mooring. It could be done in one of two ways, but both were relatively noisy. To unbitt the cables would make a prolonged rumble. To cut the cables with an axe would be quicker but noisy enough to wake the dead. As against that, the alarm must be given at some stage if prisoners were to be taken. Making a quick decision he decided to leave six men, under Bailey, boatswain's mate, to look after the fishing boat and make her ready for sea, while he led the remainder ashore; the shore party comprising six armed seamen and nine marines including the sergeant. Within a few minutes they were on the beach, still unchallenged and Northmore began a cautious approach to the village. Any sentries posted must have gone to sleep for the landing party met with no resistance of any kind. It was all very well to land with orders to take prisoners but how was this possible when no opponents presented themselves? That cannon were in position to defend the place was known, for they had themselves been engaged by them, but they were evidently sited on either side of the village or perhaps on rising ground behind it. There must surely, however, be some sort of headquarters or guardhouse in the village itself? There was and they fairly stumbled across it. Of the two sentries outside, one threw his musket down and put his hands up. The other did the same but fired his
musket in the air first. The alarm had been given and a bugle sounded from some point farther inland. The time had come to withdraw.

With his two prisoners secured, their wrists tied together by spunyarn, Northmore marched his men back the way they had come. He could feel that, so far, all had gone according to plan. It could only be a matter of minutes, however, before the men from the guardhouse should be on their heels. It would mean a running battle back to the beach with darkness to cover their retreat. He quickened the step but resisted the impulse to run. While their entry to the village street had been in almost total darkness, lights were now coming on in the cottages, windows were being opened, and neighbours were calling to each other, asking what was amiss. Owing to all these glimmering lamps and candles, the street was becoming clearly visible and they themselves were no longer hidden by darkness. A skirmish in the village street was the last thing that Northmore wanted to bring about because his opponents would know the ground and he had only just begun to see it. He had reached a point where there was a white painted garden wall on his right faced by three or four shops on his left. At this moment he heard the sound of troops on the march, the noise of boots on shingle coming from some point ahead of him. He realised at once what the situation was. The French had no sentinels on the beach because they were relying on a system of patrols. A patrol had been out when the landing took place, probably at the far end of the beach. It was now returning and had heard a shot fired. It would fall back on the guardroom in the village where the other men, who had previously been on patrol, had been caught off their guard. He now had opponents both in front and rear. With a decision which did him credit, he gave
out his orders: “Sergeant Blake, an enemy patrol is coming this way from the direction of the beach. Draw your men up in line, with the two prisoners in rear, and advance until you can see the enemy. Then fire a volley and attack with the bayonet. Fight your way back to the launch and be ready to cover the embarkation of my party. I intend to fight off the men who are following us. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir. Good luck, sir. Marines, form line by the right. Quick march!”

On the left a shopkeeper in his nightshirt, holding a lantern, had opened his front door, ready to protest against the noise other people were making.

“Follow me!” said Northmore to his seamen and made straight for the shop door. In a minute the shopkeeper had been bundled inside, bound hand and foot, and gagged. His lantern was left outside the door, faintly illuminating the street, and Northmore drew up his men inside the darkness of the shop, two opposite the door, three opposite the window, and one told to find an escape route by the back. “Watch your front,” said Northmore. “Take aim and be ready to fire.” The sailors were no marksmen but they had a position of advantage. They were facing a whitewashed wall. What light there was came from their side of the street and they were themselves invisible. Perhaps a minute passed before the approaching footsteps could be heard. Northmore drew his own pistol and levelled it. The tramp of army boots came nearer accompanied by a great deal of undisciplined chatter, punctuated by the leader's voice calling for silence. Then the dark figures were silhouetted against the white background and Northmore called out “Fire,” his own pistol being aimed at the
leader. Three of the enemy fell, the leader included, and the rest took to their heels.

“Re-load,” shouted Northmore. At that moment the seaman returned from the back of the house and reported, “I've broken down the back door, sir. It leads into a lane.”

“Thanks, Willis. Give me your musket.” Stepping into the street, Northmore fired a shot in the enemy's direction and then handed the weapon back. “Re-load, Willis,” he said, “and then follow us out at the back and along this lane to the right.” To the rest he said, “Follow me!” and resumed his withdrawal but now in the lane and no longer in the street. Over somewhere to his right he heard Sergeant Blake shout, “Fire!” and then “Advance!” The marines' volley was answered by a volley from their opponents and then came the sounds of hand to hand fighting. All depended now, as Northmore realised, on the strength and resolution of the French patrol, which might, for all he knew, outnumber Blake's men by three to one.

He quickened the pace and heard Willis somewhere behind him, running to catch up. Then he found what he was looking for, a gap between the cottages on his right, not a lane but a vegetable garden. Charging through the cabbages, he found himself in rear of the enemy, who had not given ground before the marines' attack. As his men came level with him he gave the order “Half right, aim. Fire!” He then led his party in a loud cheer. “Hurrah! Come on! Charge!” There were only seven of them all told but their sudden appearance was too much for the French, who now fell back in disorder, leaving a number of killed and wounded. The marines followed in good order, less two casualties, and Northmore told his seamen to re-load. Then he headed again for the beach and was guided to the
launch by the shouts of the man who had been left to guard it. He was nearly there when the French attacked again.

That the French should have returned to the attack did them great credit. By doing so, they turned Northmore's reembarkation into a difficult rearguard action. Sending his seamen back to the launch, Northmore led the marines into action again with a further volley and another attack. Then they fell back towards the launch, firing as they went and suffering further casualties, two wounded and one killed. “Embark!” shouted Northmore finally and everyone ran for the boat, from which the marines continued their fire while seamen pulled for dear life. The enemy's musketry was now sporadic as they lost sight of their target. Then the launch reached the captured fishing craft and Northmore, first aboard, gave orders for cutting the cables and making sail. A few minutes later the scene was lit by starshell and the shore batteries opened fire. Their aim was wildly inaccurate and no shot came anywhere near their vanishing target. Within half an hour Northmore was back on board the frigate, reporting his capture and his losses. “I have two prisoners and some French clothes removed from one of their shops.”

“Well done, Mr Northmore, I'll hear your full report later. You may now take command of the vessel you have captured, for which I'll allow you a crew of eight seamen under a petty officer of your choice. Take with you all you will need, not forgetting your navigational instruments and a chart. Make sail after the frigate and take station at a distance of two cables astern. We are on course for the Downs, where you will anchor the prize at the head of Trinity Bay. Mr Topley, take the launch alongside this other old craft and set fire to her, then return on board and resume your normal duties. Mr Mather, prepare to heave anchor and make sail. Our little operation is finished.”