So Near So Far (22 page)

Delancey fell asleep before he could answer either question, nor did he solve it before breakfast next day. He had many other things on his mind, incidentally, not the least of them the wording of that confounded report. He was to claim afterwards that while he had not known the answer to his question, he had known—and was perhaps alone in knowing—what question to ask.

D
ELANCEY looked about him and thought there was something to be said for the life of a flag officer. Rear-Admiral Knight's cabin was furnished in a civilised style, no doubt at his wife's instigation. The sunlight streaming through the stern windows was reflected from mahogany and silver, from glass decanters and gilt picture frames. The
Antelope
might be of an obsolete class but she was at least a two-decked ship with room for a flag officer in addition to the captain. Would he ever achieve his flag? It seemed most unlikely. The promotion would come on his deathbed if it came at all. But what had Fiona said? “You are a legend, while Knight has nothing more than a command.” That was nonsense but there was something uneasy about Knight's show of authority. He asserted himself but with an obvious effort as if apologising for his lack of distinction. But the Rear-Admiral had nearly finished reading Delancey's report. He was about to make the inevitable comment.

“Considering the brilliance of the exploit—and I use that expression deliberately—your report, Delancey, is not very informative. It is carefully worded but the effect is—what word do I mean?”

“Laconic, sir?”

“Exactly! Laconic. You give credit, moreover, to Mr Syvret, master's mate, to Mr Renouf, midshipman, and to no one else.
What about Le Couteur? He took that French gunboat, after all.”

“He did that and then found an excuse to take
Pauline
back to the Downs.”

“An excuse which you accepted.”

“I did not accept that
Pauline
was badly damaged. I accepted the fact that Le Couteur lacked the courage to take her into Boulogne.”

“You say nothing about Northmore.”

“What can I say? He was badly hurt at the outset and was rescued with some difficulty. He is an excellent young man but he was unlucky on this occasion and could do nothing to add to his reputation.”

“Your story is that Syvret placed the explosion vessel in position and lit the fuses, he and his men being rescued by Renouf, neither of them being fit for promotion. How could they do what they did without a more senior officer, to direct them? What part did you play, Delancey?”

“How could I enter Boulogne, sir? I was under orders to remain outside.”

“And you would never disobey an order?”

“I have been taught from my youth that orders must be obeyed.”

“So we split the credit between two mere children, neither of whom had been in battle before.”

“But, surely, Admiral, the raid on Boulogne would have been impossible without your distracting the French by the bombardment of Wimereux. As for me, I might claim the credit for drawing up the plan which these youngsters were to execute.”

“Both plan and execution were brilliant. I give you full credit for both. I shall add—since we are alone—that I also give you
credit for being an accomplished liar. I know what happened, having other sources of information. You may be laconic but some of your men are not. Very well, then. Your report shall stand and my covering letter to the Board of Admiralty will fill in some of the gaps, making sense of what you omit. Have you any idea of the damage you did?”

“None at all, sir. The explosion took place in the middle of the inner basin. It should have destroyed the nearest gunboats. A few others may have been damaged by grenades but many of these fell in the river or on the quayside.”

“Starting some fires?”

“Maybe, but they would have been extinguished within the next ten minutes. The French were all over the area before I—I mean, before Mr Syvret—had gone.”

“Yes, they would be.”

“The damage we did was to French morale. It seems to me that the Emperor must order his men to retaliate.”

“But what can they do, in heaven's name? They have no men-of-war in the Channel, nothing bigger than a gun-brig. Their sail of the line are all blockaded in port from Brest southwards. What retaliation is possible?”

“Well, Admiral, I know what I should do in Napoleon's place, although I have no reason to think that his ideas and mine are the same. At the conference held at Dover in April—or was it on some other occasion?—I remember someone suggesting that the French might raid Brighton when the Prince Regent is there. Were I the Emperor I should rather raid Walmer Castle when the Prime Minister is there. Pitt's capture would be a master stroke, a brilliant preliminary to an invasion attempt. It might not seriously affect our strategy—some people would say that
our subsequent conduct of the war would be improved—but it would shake our confidence. To have the Prime Minister in such an exposed position has always seemed to be a mistaken policy.”

“He sees himself commanding his volunteer battalions in battle. But we indeed run a risk in having him so often at Walmer. Luckily, their lordships are aware of this. I have orders to station a frigate off Walmer whenever the Prime Minister is in residence, and the
Lizard
is already there.”

“So the French can see at a glance whether he is in residence or not?”

“That idea did occur to me. But the
Lizard
could beat off any force they have available in the Channel and the sound of gunfire would alert every garrison for miles round. Our preparations seem to me tolerably complete. What more can we do?”

“Why, sir, we can send for Mr Xenophon and ask him for the latest news from the French coast. If they have a plan he is likely to know about it.”

“Their lordships had the same idea. Mr Xenophon is to be in Deal tomorrow and we shall have supper together at the Three Kings. I should like you to join us.”

The Admiral had secured a private room but nothing was said about secret matters until the servants had withdrawn. Mr Xenophon, who looked as sinister as ever in his rather theatrical way, then opened the discussion before the Admiral could call upon him. A decanter of Madeira was on the table and the candles were reflected in the polished mahogany. It was good to be ashore.

“You should know, Admiral, that your recent raid on Boulogne gave great satisfaction to all members of the Cabinet.
Your conduct was highly approved and Captain Delancey's name has been brought to the attention of the Prime Minister. I have been at pains to discover what you actually achieved. Seven gunboats were destroyed, five others more or less damaged. Two soldiers were killed by grenades and three seamen wounded. These losses are trivial but the Emperor's wrath has caused other casualties. The Captain of the Port has been dismissed. Five naval and military officers are to face a court martial. One junior officer, commanding a guard boat, committed suicide, before the Court of Inquiry was even convened. Everyone concerned is trying to ensure that the blame shall fall on someone else. Defensive precautions have reached a crescendo of inconvenience and several harmless civilians have been shot by sentinels anxious to show their vigilance. There is greater friction than ever between army and navy. The only way to restore confidence is to plan some counter-stroke before the Emperor appears at Boulogne. There can be no doubt that such a counter-strike is being planned or prepared. On the assumption that the invasion itself may be planned for July, this preliminary raid must take place in June.”

“During the month which has now begun,” added the Admiral. “But the French have no men-of-war in the Channel.”

“Just so,” replied Mr Xenophon. “We can assume therefore that some secret weapon will be used. The new weapons of which we have information are three: the steamship, the catamaran, a floating box filled with gunpowder, and the
Nautilus.
”

“And the
Nautilus
was last heard of at Brest,” commented the Admiral. “She underwent her trials there.”

“That is perfectly true,” said Mr Xenophon, “but we are now informed that an enlarged and improved vessel—call her
Nautilus II
—was built at Paris to Fulton's design and is now undergoing trials at Le Havre.”

“So that the French plan must probably depend upon that vessel?” suggested the Admiral.

“Not necessarily,” replied Mr Xenophon, “it could depend upon the steamship or the catamaran.”

“It would, in any event,” said Delancey, “depend upon good weather and a dark night.”

“Which points to the third or fourth week in June,” replied the Admiral. “Could we persuade the Prime Minister to stay in London for those two weeks?”

“I doubt it,” replied Mr Xenophon. “The Prime Minister has spent nearly his whole life at his desk, but he now sees himself as a man of action. Talk of danger and he will move towards the sound of guns. He takes very seriously his role as an amateur soldier. Some crisis might keep him in London but he would prefer to be on the invasion coast, ready to sell his life dearly, sword in hand, at the head of his troops.”

“I sometimes think,” sighed the Admiral, “that war is better left to the professionals.”

“As I claim to be one of them,” said Delancey, “may I be allowed to suggest a possible way of meeting this threat?”

“I should be more than grateful,” replied the Admiral. “Tell us what you have in mind.”

“My proposal, sir, is that you relieve me of other duties, detaching
Vengeance
to deal with this one threat—as advised, of course, by Mr Xenophon—and trust me to frustrate the enemy's design. I am no genius, sir, nor do I pretend to have any exceptional abilities, but some success might be achieved by an officer who had no other duties to distract him. You,
Admiral, have a dozen other things on your mind. If we are to defeat the enemy's scheme we shall do it by thinking, not by force.”

“I incline, sir,” said Mr Xenophon after a pause, “to support Captain Delancey's proposal. Considering his recent success at Boulogne, I think him as likely to succeed as anyone else. I would promise to give him all the information I have. I can myself think of no better plan.”

“Very well,” said the Admiral, after a minute's inward struggle, “you may consider yourself detached, Delancey, on a particular service in which you can count on every assistance from Mr Xenophon. The nature of your task will not be disclosed to anyone outside this room. Refill your glass, Mr Xenophon, and we'll drink to Delancey's success.”

That ended the meeting, Delancey going back to his frigate but agreeing to meet Mr Xenophon on the following day. Immediately, he wanted to be alone and he wanted to think. In previous ships and during other campaigns he had acted as the leader of a team, relying on Mather's support and discussing each problem with his officers or with some of them. On this occasion he was in a strange position, isolated by the need for secrecy, unable to consult anyone but Mr Xenophon. He had often been in battle before but this was a battle of wits, a war to be waged while he paced his cabin or scribbled notes which he would afterwards destroy. When he finally summarised his notes he found that they comprised a tentative outline of a possible French plan, reading as follows:

Object:
To capture Mr Pitt alive. Once this were done the return voyage would present no problem. No one would fire on a ship with so eminent a prisoner on
board—one the French could hang if their vessel were attacked.

Means:
Steamship, catamaran,
Nautilus II.
The French would use
all three
in the one operation, the steamship to cross the Channel in a dead calm (if possible), the catamaran to remove the
Lizard, Nautilus II
to carry out the raid on Walmer Castle, assisted perhaps by spies already in the area.

Date:
Latter half of June, on moonless night for preference.

Command:
No obvious name, but spy ashore could be Fabius, once active in Ireland and quite ruthless enough for such an operation as this.

Possible plan

I  To intercept the steamship near Boulogne or any other point of departure.

II  To intercept the steamship at sea.

III  To intercept the raiding party near Walmer Castle.

Because of the recent raid Plan I must be deemed impossible. Plan II would not be feasible on a dark night. So we must adopt Plan III, with possible sacrifice of
Lizard.
Can Mr X provide the shore party?

When Delancey went ashore again next day in the forenoon, he was in civilian clothes. He did not want Mr Xenophon to be seen with a naval officer. Why had the man to look so obviously a secret agent? Vanity? Of his real ability there could be no doubt at all. He was, in any case, the man with whom
Delancey had to work. They met by arrangement at the Three Kings and Delancey at once proposed a walk in the direction of Walmer Castle.

“If we are in the open air, sir, the day being fine, there is no danger of anyone listening at the keyhole.”

“Very true, sir. Secrecy is vital—so much so that we had best defer anything of moment until we are clear of the town.”

They walked along the coast, keeping to a path trodden mainly by preventive men or foot patrols of infantry. It was a fine day with cloud patterns chasing each other over the sea. From their left came the sound of the breakers and all around them was the cry of the gulls. Delancey was enjoying his day ashore and said as much.

“You will hardly understand the pleasure I feel in treading the turf and smelling the mere scent of trodden grass.”

“And yet,” replied Mr Xenophon, “the enemy is there, almost in sight, planning the destruction of all we value.”