Touch and Go (26 page)

There was more than one opinion about that prize, Sir James describing her as a fine ship and likely to be fit for service in less than a fortnight and some others (Delancey among them) were convinced that she was good for nothing. It was a time for celebration, however, and not for argument. On the day after the squadron's return the royal standard was hoisted and the shore batteries fired a victory salute.

That night the fortress was illuminated—all this to annoy the Spaniards—and extra grog issued to all the seamen and marines. Next day the Governor gave a banquet and there were subsequent dinners given by each regiment with a certain rivalry apparent between the commanding officers' wives. As for Delancey, he said good-bye to his messmates on board the
Caesar
and was formally thanked by the Admiral.

“I am more than grateful for your help, Delancey, but you must forgive me if I do not mention you in my dispatch. If I reported that you had served on board as a volunteer you might be promoted but Dumaresq would not. As he more than deserves this recognition, I trust you will understand. I shall also ask for the promotion of the first lieutenants of the
Superb
and
Venerable,
both very worthy officers. You are deserving of promotion to post-rank and I have said as much in a letter to Lord Keith.

“I am sending Dumaresq to England in the
Calpé,
bearing my dispatch to the Admiralty. Your promotion is recommended in a separate letter to their Lordships. I wish you to understand that you have a friend in the service and that I shall not forget the way you came to my help: as one Guernseyman helping another. You will have heard, no doubt, that there is talk of peace being made. Should this come about, I shall look forward to meeting you again in St Peter Port.”

Delancey was genuinely grateful for this offer of patronage. He knew by now that the automatic promotion of first lieutenants after a successful engagement was the end to many a naval career. The complimentary promotion meant an improvement in half-pay but carried with it no certainty of employment. Half those promoted after the Battle of Camperdown were still on the beach, or so he had been told, and likely to remain there, being men without interest or protection.

There was no reason to suppose that the first lieutenants of the
Superb
or
Venerable
would fare any better. What were their names, now? Samuel Jackson, he remembered, and James Lilli-crap. What influence would there be behind someone called Jackson? What noble family was ever called Lillicrap? Such men were better off as lieutenants, secure of employment for as long as they were useful and not without some chance of making prize-money

Dumaresq had better prospects, not because of his promotion but because he had the friendship of Sir James Saumarez. His own prospects were now almost on that level. He was not a follower in the sense that young Brock was a follower, someone for whose career the Admiral had assumed responsibility following a promise made to the boy's father, but he had been acknowledged as a neighbour and protégé. Saumarez was certainly going to be in high repute for the rest of the year. Any favour he asked of Lord St Vincent was likely to be granted. The only dark cloud on the horizon was this talk of peace. He could only hope that nothing would come of it.

Delancey returned to the
Merlin
with a sense of homecoming. She was a fine little ship, well officered, well maintained and ready for anything. She was not a legend, as the
Speedy
had been before her recent capture, nor was her commander a lord: but she was nothing to be ashamed of.

He had met Lord Cochrane ashore and liked him better than he had at first, recognising at the same time that his liking might not be shared by more senior officers. Cochrane had a good opinion of himself, that was undeniable, but he had tremendous vitality and enthusiasm. He was not as conscious of social position as Dundas tended to be, possibly because his own was so assured, and he seemed to have forgotten Delancey's refusal to join with him in the hunt for
L'Espoir.
They had a glass of wine together and parted as friends.

Delancey realised, of course, that he himself would never be given the opportunities which Cochrane had demanded (or usurped), but he was conscious of having done well enough to deserve Lord Keith's favour. He had played his part in the fall of Malta and at the Battle of Algeciras and his name was no longer entirely unknown. Among those who congratulated him was Mrs Hardwick, who told him that Souraya had settled down very well in an English household and was well liked by everyone.

On the day after he resumed command of the
Merlin,
Delancey was invited to a ball given by officers of the Royal Artillery. The notice was short and Delancey rather suspected that he was taking the place of some other officer whose plans had been changed. He accepted, however, taking no offence, and enjoyed the party. He was the predestined partner, he found, for a young lady called Marianne Wetherby, whose soldier husband was on duty during the early part of the evening. Marianne was young, vivacious and pretty, so much so that her husband deserted his post before the proper time, reclaimed her with a few curt words of thanks and left Delancey without a partner. His immediate problem—whether to go or stay—was solved for him by the belated arrival of Sir James Saumarez who greeted him in the hall.

“Glad to see you, Delancey. I hoped you would be here. I want you to meet my cousin, Colonel Saumarez, who has recently joined the Governor's staff.” The Colonel had evidently arrived after Sir James, who now made a little speech for his benefit.

“I know that you watched our first battle, Tom. After it had been joined you may have noticed a sloop going into action without any invitation from me. Well, here is the commander of that ship, an officer for whom I foresee a distinguished career.”

“Honoured to meet you,” said the Colonel. “You played a gallant part, sir, in the recent engagement. Allow me to present you to my wife, Mrs Saumarez, and also to my younger daughter, Miss Julia Saumarez.”

Delancey bowed to the ladies and was received with unusual friendliness.

“I was myself a witness of your noble conduct!” cried Mrs Saumarez, “and Julia was beside me. I remember how she clasped her hands and said ‘Well done!'”

“But I am a mercenary warrior and ask a reward,” replied Delancey with another bow. “I ask Miss Saumarez to be my partner in the next dance.” This offer was accepted willingly with a smile from the mother and a little curtsey from the daughter. Delancey found himself re-entering the ballroom as one of the Admiral's party and one in high favour with the rest.

He had certainly wasted no time in exploiting the situation, which resulted from the Admiral's late arrival and which found the other officers already provided with partners. He made himself useful in fetching chairs and ordering refreshment and presently took the floor with Miss Julia, a lovely fair-haired young girl. She was very shy and he worked hard to interest or amuse her, being finally recompensed by a fleeting smile. She blushed enchantingly and her fair curls fell on the whitest shoulders. Her arms and figure were unbelievably delicate and her manner was at once friendly and restrained. He had never been in company with so pretty a girl and he was quick to ask for the privilege of taking her into supper. She assented shyly and he resigned her, temporarily, to a young Major Paget of the Second Regiment of Foot, who looked all too prosperous and eligible.

While she danced with other men he talked with Mrs Saumarez and expressed his admiration for the Admiral, whose victory must earn him still higher honours. As he talked he looked across the floor at Julia whose back was turned towards him while she listened to what was probably a funny story from a Captain of Engineers. He made at that moment a discovery which was unknown, he thought, to the rest of the world. A pretty girl is still pretty when her face is unseen. She betrays in every movement, in the slightest gesture, that she knows herself to be pretty, clinching the impression by the way she pats her hair into place.

Mrs Saumarez caught his look of admiration and told him how popular Julia had always been. “She has no great fortune,” she added in fairness, “for ours is a poorer branch of the family, but I don't suppose she will be unmarried for long. We hesitated at first over bringing her to Gibraltar in time of war but all the talk is of peace.” That Delancey should take Julia into supper was warmly accepted by her mother who thus allowed the progress of a friendship. That the girl's parents should seem to encourage his suit seemed to Delancey too good to be true. It was all happening too quickly to be believed but Delancey had already fallen in love.

There was no way in which he could keep Julia to himself but Delancey could at least make it clear that he was not interested in any other girl. So he kept off the dance floor and presently found himself in conversation with a young diplomatist called Tarleton, who took a cynical view of the peace negotiations.

“What worries me,” he explained, “is that the victories of Lord Nelson, Lord Keith and now of Sir James Saumarez should lead to a peace treaty in which Malta may be lost to us.”

“Are you serious, sir?”

“Never more so. Nothing is yet agreed, you'll understand, but the terms under discussion imply our returning the island to the Knights of Malta. There have been protests, of course, but my fear is that we shall lose in negotiation what we won in battle.”

“But that is absurd. The Knights are discredited and impoverished. The Order has had no useful function for at least a hundred years.”

“Just so. You know it. I know it. All the world must know it. But our Secretary of State knows something different. And what is our wisdom compared with his?”

“All this in the nineteenth century! This plan is fit for bedlam! It can't be carried out, however, because the Maltese won't accept it.”

“Exactly! And that is one reason for supposing that this peace will be of short duration. At least one of the British undertakings will be impossible to fulfil and this will give the First Consul every excuse to break all the other terms of the treaty.”

Delancey took some comfort from this conversation, although indignant to think that the Maltese should be cheated of what they had fought for and gained. They were surely entitled to British protection and a measure of independence. But an early renewal of war would change the whole situation and give them what they wanted. In the meanwhile, this coming peace would wreck his chances of promotion. It was odd, come to think of it, that Colonel and Mrs Saumarez should look with any favour on an officer of less than post-rank.

Delancey was next in conversation again with the Admiral, who told him that the
Merlin
would soon be ordered home. “It seems to me, however,” he added, “that Guernsey will not be too far out of your way. As you know, I have a number of Guernseymen among my shipmates. Two of them were disabled at Algeciras but not so badly that they need want employment. When they are invalided I have a mind to send them home and tell them to report to Lady Saumarez. If they take passage in the
Merlin
you will be able to tell Lady Saumarez about the battle. You will also be entrusted with messages, I fancy, from Colonel and Mrs Saumarez to their friends on the island.”

Delancey quickly promised to perform any errand of this sort. Looking across at Julia, he could not imagine disobeying a command from any of her family. He firmly told himself that he could not possibly marry the Admiral's niece, but the daydream persisted and he knew that it was not merely a matter of self-interest. It was the girl herself who was the attraction in this all but impossible prospect.

Before he could reach Julia, now with two other naval officers, Delancey was intercepted by Mrs Hardwick.

“I told you, did I not,” she said, “that Souraya has settled down very well and that we are all very fond of her. She was upset, I must tell you, when she saw the
Merlin
going into action. The battle could be seen, you know, from the nursery window. We call her Catherine and she helps look after my two remaining children, Delia and Jimmy, who is called after the dear Admiral, a great favourite with them both. But she is older than you imagined; twelve, perhaps, or even thirteen, and quite forward for her age. She is beginning to know a few words of English and remembers two or three words of Italian. Some day she may be able to tell us where she comes from. I have taught her to say her prayers and I know that she prays for you each night.”

Delancey thanked Mrs Hardwick for her news and told her that he was glad to think that Souraya was so well cared for. Escaping from the lady with some difficulty, he secured Julia as a partner in the next dance and then led her on to the terrace, from which they could look down on the moonlit harbour. She had lost much of her shyness and came out with a sigh of happiness.

“I dreamed that life could be romantic,” she confessed, “and now I find that it is! There is everything here, the white columns, the scented shrubs, the naval uniforms and pretty gowns. And there are the great ships at anchor, overlooked by the frowning bastions from which the bugles sounded the last post.”

“A lovely scene,” Delancey agreed, with eyes only for the girl. “But what is romance?”

“Romance is beauty, I think, and a background of authority and order, with love and laughter and a hint of danger.”

“Danger? Fear?”

“Yes. There must be the cannon and the sentinels, the gunfire heard across the bay. Will you point out for me the ship in which you fought?” Delancey indicated the flagship, well lit up for a party given by the wardroom officers.

“But how can that be, sir? You are the captain, surely, of another ship?”

“I served in the flagship as a volunteer on that occasion. My own ship is the
Merlin.
You can see her further to the left and close to the mole.”