Touch and Go (23 page)

Alone in the wardroom Delancey made some calculations on paper, thought over some problems and ended by making a summary.

When finally admitted to the Admiral's presence he saw before him a handsome middle-aged officer, his face showing signs of strain but his manner deliberate and resolute.

“Yes, Captain Delancey?” the voice was cold. (Couldn't the man realise that a defeated Admiral might be busy?)

“Knowing, Sir James, that you have had some losses, I beg to suggest that you bring your flagship up to establishment. I can supply you with a sailing master, a boatswain, a master's mate, twenty-one seamen and ten marines. For the time you are in port I can furnish you, in addition, with two working parties, each of thirty men under a lieutenant and midshipman, to stand watch and watch. I also beg to offer you two ship's boats, one of which might serve as your barge.”

“Leaving the
Merlin
unmanned?”

“Yes, sir. You have the
Calpé
for any special service, until the
Pasley
rejoins your flag.”

“And who is the sailing master you offer me?”

“I am, sir.”

“You?”

“I am master as well as commander, sir.”

The Admiral stared at Delancey as if unable to grasp his intentions. For a captain to accept a temporary drop in rank was something outside his experience and something for which the regulations did not provide. It was the immediate answer to a problem but dared he accept it? As against that, had he the right to refuse? After looking fixedly at Delancey for a minute or so, he suddenly said:

“Why not? Well, Mr Delancey, I accept your very generous offer and will tell Captain Brenton. . . . Now may I add that I know of no other officer who would come to my aid with as little thought of his rank and dignity. You have my heartfelt thanks!”

Back on board the
Merlin,
Delancey issued his orders and told Mather to pick the best men for the flagship. Then he went to his cabin and sent for Teesdale.

“I have been appointed acting sailing master of the flagship. I want you to remove the gold braid from my old uniform coat and hat. Then pack all I shall need and be ready to come with me. Pass the word for Mr Stirling.” When Stirling reported Delancey went on:

“Take the first party over to the
Caesar
and report to the first lieutenant. Then take the boat ashore and try to find another boat for him, as shabby as it may come but able to carry thirty men. We shall want it for a week. Send Mr Topley to see me.” When Topley reported Delancey continued:

“Mr Langford is going to the flagship, so is Mr Bailey and so am I. Mr Mather and Mr Stirling will be out of the ship alternately, watch and watch, accompanied by Mr Northmore and Mr Stock. That leaves you in virtual command. Your chief task is to ensure the safety of the ship. Your second task is to see that the working parties are fed. Your third task is to make good such damage as we sustained in the recent action, for which purpose you have one week. Pass the word for Mr Corbin . . .” It would be good experience for Topley. More than that, it might be the making of him as a future officer. If he survived this test he would be a man.

In going about the flagship, Delancey's fear was that he would encounter some measure of hostility, especially perhaps from the first lieutenant. There was a possibility after all, that his name might be mentioned in the gazette after that of the captain. He had been careful for that reason, to report in a plain coat as worn by a warrant-officer.

But the actual scene was quite different from anything he had pictured. The flagship represented a nightmare of overwork. So far from being asked who he was, he had become essential in ten minutes, the only unspoken question being why he had been absent on the previous day. As for jealous and sidelong glances in the wardroom, he was scarcely ever there at the same time as anyone else. Officers ate something quickly when they had the time and were gone again in a matter of minutes.

Captain Brenton said a word of welcome when he came aboard but plunged back at once into his task of organisation—eight men to the main hold, six to patch the jib and two more to assist the carpenter's mate. . . .

The panic fear was that the French would quit Algeciras before the British squadron was ready to sail. It was a race against time as everyone knew from the flag-lieutenant to the ship's cat. The wonder was that anyone could sleep during his watch below, such was the noise on deck, but men fell exhausted into their hammocks and proved that they could sleep through anything. What had to be done would ordinarily have taken six weeks at Portsmouth or Chatham. At Gibraltar it was being asked whether they could sail in six days. For the damaged
Pompée
this was clearly impossible. It was a question, for that matter, whether the squadron might not have to sail without the flagship.

The central problem, in Delancey's department, was removing and replacing the mainmast, which had been shot through in five places. Hoisting out the stump was simplified by deciding against attempting to save anything. It was sawn up and removed in sections. Brenton was lucky to have found a new mast ashore but to lower it in by means of an improvised crane was not easy, least of all in a hurry. Then the topmast had to be sent up and the whole mast rerigged, the spars replaced, and the sails bent.

The foremast and mizen-mast had to be fished, the jib-boom replaced, the ropes spliced and the rigging set up. What was astonishing was the way the seamen worked. Saumarez was evidently more popular than he appeared to be at first sight. Apart from that, however, the men had been involved in a defeat—at least by French and Spanish accounts—and were not content to leave it at that. They had actually been beaten off, leaving a British seventy-four in enemy hands, and this result had somehow to be turned into victory.

Major reverses formed no part of recent British naval history and men on the lower deck saw themselves as potential targets for derision or pity, as figures of fun in some future ballad. They worked to prevent this and worked with fury. The task of the officers was to allocate the work and prevent the different parties from impeding each other. There was no need to urge the men on—they were plainly doing all that was possible. Ticking off his list of tasks to be completed, Delancey found himself regularly ahead of the timetable. Even so, the possibility remained that the Admiral's flag would have to be hoisted in another and less damaged ship.

The action at Algeciras took place on Monday, July 6th, and its immediate sequel was a letter, sent overland, from Linois to Admirals Massaredo and Dumanoir at Cadiz, asking them to come and rescue him. Agreeing to this, Massaredo ordered Vice-Admiral Don Juan Joaquim de Moreno to sail for Algeciras on Thursday the 9th with six sail of the line, three frigates and a lugger. By the afternoon of the 9th the Franco-Spanish squadron had reached Cabrita Point, joining forces with Linois. At the same time, the
Superb
(74),
Thames
(frigate) and
Pasley
(lugger) arrived to reinforce Saumarez.

On the Saturday the Admiral paid a visit to the
Caesar,
which was so far from being ready for sea that he reiterated his doubts. His inspection finished, he turned to Delancey and said: “His Excellency the Governor has been kind enough to invite me to dine with him today, adding that I might bring one of my officers with me. I should like you to be my fellow guest on this occasion. There will be a carriage waiting for us on the quayside in half an hour's time. Perhaps you would like to wear your other uniform?” Delancey accepted with pleasure, standing to attention with the rest while the Admiral entered his barge and was rowed to the
Audacious.
Captain Brenton seized his opportunity and told the men on deck to gather round.

“Listen, lads! The enemy may sail tomorrow or the next day and our Admiral means to go after them. What I fear is that he will leave this ship behind, distributing the crew to the ships that were less damaged in the recent action. He speaks of having to hoist his flag in another ship.” Brenton pointed to the Admiral's barge, “And you can see which one it will be. Well, lads, what's our answer to that?”

It was Delancey's boatswain, Sam Bailey, who shouted for all to hear “All hands to work day and night till she's ready!” There was a roar of agreement and a burst of cheering. “We'll do it, sir!” said Sam. “All day then,” said the captain, “and watch and watch at night. Let me see what you can do!” Having heard so much, Delancey made for his cabin for a quick change and a clean shirt, just reaching the quayside by the appointed time. There was the carriage waiting with a small cavalry escort and the Admiral's barge came alongside a minute later.

“Well, Captain Delancey,” said the Admiral as the coach drove off. “I heard some cheering from the
Caesar
just now. What was it all about?”

“The men have sworn to refit the ship by daylight tomorrow. Captain Brenton told them, Sir James, that the
Caesar
might otherwise be left in port, your flag shifted to another ship.”

“To the
Audacious,
to be exact. I don't know why there is a bitter rivalry between these two ships but there always has been. Brenton's men will have performed wonders by sunset.”

“Perhaps, Sir James, you had no intention of leaving the
Caesar
behind?”

“How could I? The enemy have nine ships to my five. The odds are sufficiently against me as it is. If I sailed with four ships I should be pitting three hundred guns against seven hundred, with far worse odds in terms of men. No, the
Caesar
has to be ready in time and I have not forgotten your help in making that possible. Yours was a timely offer, captain, and one that not every officer would have made.”

“It was made, Sir James, as from one Guernseyman to another.”

“What, are you a Guernseyman? From which parish?”

“Born in St Peter Port, sir. I have a small property on the border of St Sampson and the Vale.”

“And you have spent your life in the Navy?”

“Most of it, sir. I was here during the great siege and was commissioned in 1783.”

“What is extraordinary is that I never heard of you. Perhaps, however, you will have met my old messmate, Laurence Savage?”

“Yes, Sir James. I met him recently in Malta when he was on the point of retirement from the service.”

“He is not to be blamed for quitting the service, his promotions have come so slowly. Let us hope that you are more fortunate and that I may some day have the opportunity of saying a word on your behalf.”

“Thank you, Sir James.”

The carriage rolled up to the front door of the Convent, as Government House at Gibraltar is called, and Delancey, following the Admiral, was once more presented to the Governor. The other guests were Brigadier-General Osborne, Colonel Devereux and the Commissioner of the Dockyard, Mr Hartley. The uniforms were smart and the gold braid glittered but it was not a convivial occasion. There was an atmosphere of tension, perhaps of embarrassment.

“We've only a small company to dinner, Sir James,” explained the Governor. “I knew that you must be tired. At the same time I wanted you to know that our thoughts will be with you.”

“Thank you, General. I have work enough, as you may suppose and am vexed to think that the French and Spanish are claiming a victory over me. I have no idea how the business may be viewed at home but must rest content in the knowledge that we did our utmost.”

“That you did, Sir James, and your defeat—if it can be called that—was due to bad luck with the wind. The result, we must allow, was unfortunate, but this was due to causes you could not have foreseen.”

The dinner was excellent, the company friendly and the conversation interesting but Delancey grew restive at the sympathy being shown to the Admiral. Sir James, he had come to realise, was rather shy, which made many people think him distant, and somewhat lacking in self-confidence. He was desperately disappointed and tired, all too willing to accept the assurance that he had been unlucky, that all allowed him to have done his best. Over the dessert Colonel Devereux referred, in passing, to “the recent setback” and Delancey could contain himself no longer.

“Forgive me, Colonel, if I take issue with you over this word ‘setback' or ‘defeat.' It so chanced that my ship was among the last to quit the battlefield and I take a different view of the matter. We do not claim a victory but our attack did succeed. At the close of the action the enemy were defeated with heavy losses and in no mood to continue the fight.”

“Very well, captain,” said Devereux with a smile. “I withdraw the word ‘setback.' Will you allow me to call it an indecisive action, one after which both sides claim the victory?”

“No, sir, it
was
decisive, and you will presently see proof of it. Our enemies claim a victory, since three of their ships beat off six of ours, leaving a ship of the line in their hands. They have since been reinforced by six sail of the line, including three of exceptional size. So now they have nine powerful ships opposed by five or six of ours. What should we expect their victorious Admiral to do? He should appear off Gibraltar and challenge our squadron to battle. But will he do that? Or will he use his six new ships to cover the retreat of the other three, bringing his whole force into Cadiz? If he adopts the latter plan—as I think he will—his tactics will be correct for an Admiral defeated on July 6th. What he does will be more significant than what he says. If he has really won a victory he should want to complete it. If he has really been defeated, he will want to avoid another battle.”

“Well said!” exclaimed General O'Hara. “I think you must confess, Colonel, that there was nothing indecisive about your skirmish with Captain Delancey! Allow me to propose a toast in words which Delancey may be able to accept: I drink to Sir James's completion of the victory he partially achieved on July 6th!” The toast was drunk with applause and Colonel Devereux came up to Delancey afterwards and said, “I liked the way you stood up for the Admiral.”