Touch and Go (22 page)

Looking shorewards, he could see that all three French ships were aground in the shallows, all damaged and none in action. The
Hannibal
apart, only the shore batteries were firing. Far to the south was the
Calpé
but heading towards the flagship with several boats in tow. The Spanish gunboats were in two groups, some to the south and others to the north of the Santiago Battery, all firing at the
Hannibal.

The gunboats were undecked rowing craft, somewhat larger than a ship's boat, each mounting a single cannon in the bows. A group of them, working together, could equal the fire of a warship but they were highly vulnerable and were used only close to the shore. Studying them through his telescope, Delancey made a quick decision and ordered Stirling to make sail. While the sloop gained way he had a hurried talk with Mather.

“We can't save the
Hannibal
but we can drive off the gunboats. If I get the chance I shall try to capture one of them. So I want the launch ready to lower, with crew armed and Mr Northmore to command.”

The
Merlin
swept round the
Hannibal
's bows and bore down on the near gunboat. For a fatal moment or two these continued to engage the
Hannibal.
Before they could shift to the new target, the
Merlin
had hove to with her port broadside bearing on them. “Fire!” shouted Delancey and his gunners, inspired by Stirling, produced a rapid and accurate fire, enough to sink one of the gunboats and send the rest pulling out of range with more haste than dignity.

Seeing that group in disarray, Delancey made sail again, circled to seaward of the
Hannibal
and bore down on the other group. “Heave to!” he shouted, and “Lower the launch!” The order, being expected, was quickly obeyed and the launch raced after the gunboat which had advanced most daringly. The boat, full of men, might have escaped but a shot from the
Merlin
smashed three of her oars.

Through his telescope, Delancey watched the longboat surge up to her opponent. Northmore was first aboard the enemy, cutlass in hand, and the Spanish were overwhelmed in a matter of minutes. Then the launch was on her way back with the captured gunboat in company.

All this time the guns of the Santiago Battery ignored the
Merlin
and continued to fire steadily at the
Hannibal.
The artillerymen had found the range and bearing of that target and were not to be tempted into engaging any other. Neither the French nor the Spanish had captured a British ship of the line for years. They saw in the
Hannibal
a ship that would have to surrender and they would not cease fire until she did. Their tired gunners were firing slowly but every shot found the target.

A few guns replied from the grounded ship and Delancey could see that Captain Solomon Ferris was on deck again and directing the fire. Delancey did not linger on the scene but made sail as soon as he had recovered his launch. Captain Ferris acknowledged his help with a wave of the hand. The
Merlin
was now headed seawards, lengthening her distance from the
Hannibal.

“She is striking her colours, sir,” said Mather, and Delancey could see that this was true. Her ensign was rehoisted with union downwards and boats from the French flagship
Formidable
could be seen closing in on her. Half an hour later, while the
Merlin
was on her way back to Gibraltar, with the gunboat in tow, Delancey saw the
Calpé
nearing the
Hannibal
as if to offer help. There was nothing he could do and some gunfire followed as if the
Calpé
were in action. Then all was silent again and the battle was over.

Back in the anchorage at Gibraltar, Delancey went over to the
Calpé
to ask what had happened.

He found Dundas in a smoke-blackened uniform, hatless and bloodstained, struggling to make good the damage aboard his sloop. He was a more convincing leader than Delancey had expected and his exhausted men were doing their best.

“Well,” said Dundas, “we had done what we could for the other ships, especially the
Pompée.
It was our boats and two from the dockyard which towed her out. We picked up a few Frenchmen from the water. Then, as the smoke cleared, I saw that the
Hannibal
was ashore. I guessed that she would have to strike her colours but thought it might be possible to remove some of her crew first. Her ensign was still flying but, with the wind as it was, I could not see it plainly. I only discovered afterwards that it had been hoisted union downwards.

“By then it was too late. I had sent two of my boats to her assistance. The result was that twenty-two of my men were taken prisoner. I was so furious about it that I fired a broadside or two at their gunboats, which had been beached. The Santiago Battery replied and we sustained damage enough to keep us busy for a week, with seven men wounded into the bargain. How did the
Merlin
fare?”

“We were a little more fortunate, sir. I was on board the
Hannibal
at an earlier hour, before she struck but after she was aground. I drove off the gunboats and captured one of them. We suffered no damage and only two men are slightly wounded.” Delancey felt that his report sounded rather smug. He tried to add the human touch: “We might have suffered more if the batteries had not been firing at you. We were lucky to escape as lightly as we did.”

“You did well, Delancey. The man I am sorry for is the Admiral, though. We must assume that the French will be claiming a victory and it will be Sir James's task to explain away a defeat.”

“But was it a defeat, sir?”

“Well, Sir James had six ships against their three and came off badly damaged, leaving one of his ships in their hands. Men have been court-martialled for less.”

“But look, sir, you were the last in action. What did you see? All three French ships were aground and out of action, masts sprung, topmasts gone. Boats from the shore were taking away the wounded. What you could see, what I had seen a little earlier, was a beaten enemy, unfit to renew the engagement.”

“Very true, but it won't read like that in the dispatch which Linois is writing. France has no excessive number of victorious admirals. Linois, you may depend upon it, is making the most of his opportunity. He has a British ship of the line with the tricolour hoisted above the blue ensign and he wants, above all, to place her out of our reach. She is the proof of his victory. Had I been in Ferris's place I should have set her on fire.”

“With all his wounded on board?”

“No, you're right. He couldn't do that.”

“So Linois has his prize and means to keep her. What will he do next?”

“He will send a message overland to Cadiz, asking the Admiral there to come to his rescue. I should guess that the messenger is already on his way.”

“Then he must have his three ships—no, four, ready for sea by the time the squadron arrives. He will have to work fast.”

“And Sir James will have to work faster!”

“That's true, by God. When Linois sails, Sir James has his last chance to recover the
Hannibal.
I thought of volunteering to burn her tonight but his better plan will be to recapture her.”

“From among all those Spanish three-deckers?”

“It will be his only chance, for all that. The work of repair should have begun by now.”

“It has begun so far as the dockyard is concerned, but the seamen are exhausted, unfit for work until tomorrow. Then they will have to work as never before. It is going to be a race against time.”

D
ELANCEY went aboard the
Merlin
again in thoughtful mood, considering all the problems that were likely to arise. The damaged ships of the line were already being warped into the harbour and he decided, on an impulse to visit the dockyard and discover, if he could, what the shortages would be.

With him he took young Stock with the idea of teaching the boy something of the shipwright's work. The youngster had so far, he thought, been rather subdued. He had been useful on occasion and he had certainly kept out of trouble—more so, perhaps, than a high-spirited lad should have done—but Delancey rather wondered whether he had given the boy enough encouragement.

“My object in paying this visit is to discover what help I can offer,” he explained. “A sloop can play only a small part in a general engagement. But we may be able to help in some other way.”

They entered the dockyard gate and picked their way among stacks of timber and coils of rope. “Where is Mr Evesham?” asked Delancey and was directed to a small wooden hut round which some labourers were collected. Presently the men dispersed and the grey-haired senior shipwright turned to greet his visitors. “Good to see you again, Captain Delancey. What can I do for you?”

“I want to know about the damage sustained by the
Pompée
and
Caesar.
What state are they in?”

“Well, sir,” replied the shipwright, “a complete repair of those ships would take six weeks and maybe two months. We are told, however, that Sir James must put to sea in a matter of days; as soon, in effect, as the Spanish squadron arrives from Cadiz. This is a different undertaking altogether, an all but impossible task. We must patch them up somehow so that they won't actually sink. I don't pretend to like this sort of work, all hurry and bustle, with no time to plan or do things in order, but we are at war—as I have to tell my workmen—and we can't ask the enemy to wait for us.”

“What material are you going to lack? Timber, plank, canvas or what?”

“Compass timber, knee timber, masts and spars.”

“And labour?”

“Not immediately. We'll need every blessed man in the place when it comes to rerigging the ships.”

Delancey reported this conversation to Dundas and asked whether he thought the
Santa Catarina
would be of any value if broken up. “Too small,” said Dundas promptly. The only source of timber he could think of was a Spanish ship, a merchant vessel taken by the
Speedy.
If she were dismantled, her timber would be very useful indeed.

The trouble was that she was on sale for the benefit of the captors, who were not of course present. Nothing could be done without Lord Cochrane's permission and he, it was now known, was a prisoner at Algeciras. All that could be done immediately was to send the
Calpé
's carpenter to make a survey of the ship. He returned with a favourable report but no more could be done for the time being. Were Lord Cochrane to be exchanged, as seemed likely, he could agree to a price for the ship and then demolition could follow.

Strictly speaking, Dundas should have reported to the Admiral at this point, explaining that the two sloops were under his orders. He did, in fact, deliver a letter to the Admiral's office ashore, enclosing the order which Delancey had brought from Malta, but he rightly judged that Sir James would be too busy to receive him in person.

Having no particular orders, he set to work on the
Calpé
's repairs and laid plans for cannibalising the Spanish prize if and when he had the authority to do it. In point of fact, Lord Cochrane was released on parole and arrived next day in Gibraltar. Agreeing at once to sacrifice his prize, and sure that the crew of the
Speedy
would have no objection, he authorised the process by which the old merchantman was pulled to pieces.

Using half his men for this purpose, Dundas began to supply the dockyard with needed material. Tremendous efforts were being made and the greatest ingenuity shown as the men-of-war were prepared for sea.

Since Dundas was thus completely occupied, Delancey presented himself on board the flagship, the
Caesar,
and asked for Lieutenant Donkin, with whom he had some slight acquaintance. That officer was frantically busy and the ship in turmoil, with carpenters everywhere, the decks loud with the sound of the hammer and the screech of the saw. Parties of seamen were removing the mainmast and the ship herself had been given a list to allow of some repairs below the waterline.

“What were your losses in the flagship?” Delancey asked.

“Nine killed, sir, twenty-five wounded and eight missing, probably drowned but just possibly taken prisoner. That makes us forty-two under strength but we were not up to establishment when the action began. Even then we were wanting another dozen, eight seamen and four marines.”

“Have you lost any of your officers?”

“Yes, Mr Graves, the master, was killed. Mr Forster, the boatswain, is ashore in hospital, and Mr Best, master's mate, is among those missing.”

“And what about damage to the ship?”

“The shot holes are already plugged, sir. Where we suffered most was in the masts and rigging. The mainmast is gone, as you'll have noticed, and several of the spars are beyond repair. Sails and cordage are cut to ribbons. What is most inconvenient of all, the boats are all more or less damaged apart from the pinnace and that was sunk. We have borrowed a couple of boats from the dockyard and that is all we have.”

“Damned awkward. I mustn't detain you longer, however. You have work to do.”

Donkin escaped gratefully and Delancey, finding a relatively quiet corner, took down some notes. He then reported to the first lieutenant and asked whether he could call on the Admiral next day

“You will realise, sir, that Sir James has a great deal to do, both here and ashore.”

“I do realise that but I am under orders to report to him.”

“I'll inform his flag-lieutenant, then. I suggest, sir, that you call early, before he goes ashore to the dockyard.”

“Thank you. I shall not take more than five minutes of his time.”

The first lieutenant hurried off, was stopped at once by the purser with a question for him, and then again by the carpenter. If the flagship were not soon repaired, it would not be for want of effort. Was there not, however, an element of confusion? Delancey sensed a need for better organisation and then remembered the shortage of officers. What a moment, after all, to be without a master or a boatswain! On his way back to the
Merlin
he had a sudden inspiration. He knew now what he had to do. Would he, however, be allowed to do it?