Touch and Go (33 page)

“And three children,” added the purser.

“He also has the promise of promotion to a bigger ship,” said Varignon, clinching the matter.

“But he will obey the captain's orders?” asked Delancey.

“Unquestionably,” said the second mate. “Grobert is not the sort of man to have ideas of his own.”

“I see. Well, Grobert is coming on deck. If you will all give me your parole, I will leave you free to talk with him. I suggest that you raise the question with each other, in his hearing, whether Captain Charbonnier is or is not insane. I need not remind you that all our lives are at stake.”

The parole was given and Delancey led the party to where the gunner had placed himself near the main hatch. From where he was, Grobert could see what was happening and the sound of his pistol would certainly be heard in the magazine. To Delancey's relief, Grobert appeared to be a red-faced rather plump little man whose normally cheerful expression was clouded by the current situation. Pistol in hand, he looked the picture of misery.

Going near him, Delancey called out “We are about to make sail. You can tell your captain that the two ships are still together and that our course is to the north. I have brought your friends on deck and you will perhaps like to talk with them.” Walking off, he gave orders for the
Merlin
to get under way. “Make sail—main and mizen topsails, forecourse and fore t'gallant.”

He did nothing with the
Bonaparte's
sails as that ship's running rigging had still to be knotted and spliced. There was infinite difficulty in steering but the
Merlin
and prize began their slow passage northward.

The worried gunner of the
Bonaparte
went below to report progress, returning presently to say that the captain had merely said “Vive la France.” Grobert was accosted by the other French officers, who joined with him in anxious conclave. Going over to them, Delancey said casually: “Nice weather for one's last day on earth, don't you think?” As he strolled away again, Varignon hurried after him: “But we are heading, surely, for Cherbourg?” Delancey shook his head. “I am under orders to take my ship into Plymouth and this I shall do.”

“But that puts us all under sentence of death.”

“Exactly.”

“But is there no other way?”

“There is indeed. Persuade Grobert that his captain is a lunatic.”

“But how would that save us?”

“He could tell your captain that we are entering Cherbourg when we are actually coming into St Peter Port.”

“He would expect French officers to come on board and congratulate him.”

“If you can think of a better plan I shall listen to you with the closest attention.”

“I can think of no better plan but what you propose is impossible. Grobert listens to us and then says that he must obey his captain. Nothing we say can shake his determination to do what he has been told to do. He is inconceivably stupid!”

Moving slowly north of Alderney, Delancey was coming to a point at which he had to head east or west and do so while Grobert watched. The man might be stupid but not to the point of confusing the points of the compass. He would know at once whether the
Merlin
was heading for Cherbourg or not. All Delancey had gained so far was time. His only plan now would be to overpower Grobert and send someone below to impersonate him. That would almost certainly fail. On second thoughts, he would have to do it himself and try to shoot Captain Charbonnier through the blanket, with odds against him of about a hundred to one. His hand, for one thing, would be too unsteady to aim. . . . He was sweating now and hoped that nobody would notice. Perhaps, however, they were all sweating themselves . . .

There came a hail from the
Merlin's
mast-head: “Sail on the starboard quarter.” He looked round for a telescope and then realised he was in the wrong ship. He shouted across to Mather “What vessel is that?” and received the answer “A lugger, sir, heading this way under all sail.” For a moment he thought that the incident was irrelevant. Then he remembered Sam Carter's promise. This would be the
Dove,
almost certainly, and with the worst possible news. Worst possible? Well, it might prove his immediate salvation. The lunatic in the magazine would hardly want to blow up both ships in time of peace. He decided to heave to.

“Mr Mather,” he shouted, “back the main topsail!” While the yard was being braced round, he turned to Grobert and pointed to the approaching lugger.

“You can tell Captain Charbonnier that a craft is approaching which may have important news. Then return on deck. I want you to be present when the news is received.” As Grobert went below Delancey repeated much the same words to Varignon and the others. “If you hear the news when I do you will know that there has been no trick, that the lugger's captain will not be saying what I have asked him to say. If you have a telescope, I should be glad to have the use of it for a few minutes.”

The third mate produced an old spyglass and Delancey studied the lugger. It was the
Dove
beyond question and—yes—she was flying her ensign with the union downwards! So peace had been made and the
Bonaparte
was no lawful prize. He could be sued by the French owners for wrongful detention, for damage and for compensating the wounded. He would have to sell Anneville and realise on all he possessed. He would be left penniless and in debt. He should be grateful, he supposed, if he were left alive but it was, from his own angle, a grim conclusion to the war and a disastrous beginning to the period of peace that was to follow.

The
Dove
hove to near the
Merlin,
striking her reversed ensign and lowering a boat. Ten minutes later Sam Carter reached the
Bonaparte
's deck and was greeted there by Delancey, who said at once “Sam, I want these gentlemen to hear the news from you, one of them (he indicated the purser) will interpret if you speak slowly.” Sam looked slightly bewildered but did as he was asked.

“Captain Delancey, gentlemen, news has just reached Guernsey that preliminary articles of peace were signed on October 1st. For some reason there was delay in sending confirmation of this to the Lieutenant-Governor of Guernsey. Peace had in fact been made before the
Merlin
sailed from St Peter Port.”

When the interpreter conveyed the sense of this to Varignon, Grobert and the others, Delancey thanked Sam warmly for bringing the news and then turned to Varignon:

“Please be good enough to tell Captain Charbonnier that the war is over, that you yourself heard the news directly and that there is now no point in making any further sacrifice, whether of ships or men. Take Grobert with you and send him in first.” To the others he said, “I think the moment has come for a glass of wine, to celebrate the fact that we are at peace. Mr Topley, send my steward over with two bottles of champagne. I hope that we shall find the glasses we need in the great cabin.” An informal party was held, Delancey proposing a toast to the First Consul and
Bonaparte
's purser proposing a toast to George III. They had reached that point when Grobert and Varignon returned.

“Captain Charbonnier will not quit the magazine until both ships have entered Cherbourg.”

“And I am still under orders to go to Plymouth,” said Delancey. “Gentlemen, forgive me for a moment. I must have a word in private with your gunner.” Outside the cabin he spoke urgently to Grobert.

“We are dealing with a madman. He has to be disarmed. Don't you agree?” Prey as he was to conflicting emotions, Grobert finally nodded.

“Very well then. Return to Captain Charbonnier and tell him that we are bound for Cherbourg and that you have brought him wine with which to celebrate. Has he one pistol or two?”

“He has one in his hand, the other tucked into his belt.”

“That being so, you must take two glasses of wine, one for yourself. Push the blanket aside and enter the magazine with a full glass in each hand. Throw the wine quickly over each pistol to wet the priming. Then step aside. I shall be just behind you. Is that clear?” Grobert nodded and Delancey pocketed two glasses and an opened bottle, half full. They went down to the magazine once more. Delancey picking up a belaying pin on the way. When near the magazine, Delancey took off his shoes, poured the two glasses of wine and handed them to Grobert, telling him by gesture to enter the magazine. Delancey followed him silently and heard him identify himself.

“It's Grobert here, captain. We are under way for Cherbourg with a fine breeze. The war is over and we are celebrating. We have all been drinking your health as a hero but we feel that you should drink too. I have brought you a glass of wine.”

“Thank you, Grobert,” he heard Charbonnier say. “A glass of wine would be welcome.”

Grobert pushed the curtain aside and there was a scream of rage—the single word “Assassin!” Springing forward, Delancey brought the belaying pin down with all his force. There was a satisfying thud and the unconscious man fell to the deck.

Delancey hauled him out of the magazine, disarmed him, closed the door and locked it, pocketing the key.

“And now,” he said to Grobert, “we'll join our friends in the great cabin. Perhaps we have earned a drink ourselves.”

The
Merlin
was entering the anchorage opposite St Peter Port with her prize astern and the
Dove
in company. It was an almost windless evening and the sea was glassy calm. Slowly the
Merlin
glided in under all sail, reflected as if in a mirror. “Boom!” went the first gun of her salute and the smoke billowed, hiding her from view as successive guns fired. When the smoke cleared she was to be seen once more at anchor, sails furled and a boat lowered. The
Bonaparte
dropped anchor at the same time but with less of a flourish. The ship would have to be restored to her owners and it was only a question of how and when. Mr Stirling could at least find consolation in the fact that her captain in the meanwhile was in irons. The
Merlin's
boat was now approaching the steps near the town church and Delancey in the sternsheets could see that Captain Savage was among those on the quayside. The bystanders raised a cheer as Delancey stepped ashore and Savage met him at the top of the steps.

“Well done, Delancey!”

“But peace was made before the capture. She will not be condemned and I may be liable for damages.”

“Fiddlesticks! The preliminary articles have been signed but peace does not become effective in the Channel until twelve days afterwards. As from the 14th, tomorrow, all prizes must then be restored to the owners. Your prize of today belongs to the captors and three-eighths of its value belong to you; a pretty useful sum if the ship and cargo are as valuable as they look. A capture made after midnight would have landed you in trouble but a capture this morning was perfectly legal. It was touch and go, Delancey, but you are home and dry.”