Touch and Go (9 page)

Knowing roughly what he was to expect, Vice-Admiral Lord Keith was off Grand Harbour with his flagship, the three-decked
Queen Charlotte
mounting a hundred guns. That kept Decrès's flagship the
Guillaume Tell
in check and placed the goalkeeper in position. Rear-Admiral Lord Nelson, with his flag in the
Foudroyant
of eighty guns, cruised to windward of the port with
Audacious
and
Northumberland
under command. The
Alexander
cruised still further to windward and the
Lion
with the
Sirena,
Neapolitan frigate, and
Gannet,
sloop, watched the passage between Malta and Gozo. Of the remaining two sloops,
El Corso
was used as the connecting link between Nelson and the
Alexander,
the other, the
Merlin,
cruised to the north of Gozo. As the final touch the
Success,
frigate, was stationed off Sicily to give warning of the convoy's approach. Although barely on speaking terms, Lord Keith and Lord Nelson were unlikely to make any tactical error. They waited patiently for their victim to fall into the trap.

Rear-Admiral Perrée was off the coast of Sicily on February 13th. He was sighted by the
Success,
which raced back with information for Lord Keith. Captain Shuldam Beard reported one ship of the line, one frigate, two corvettes and a large transport. He did not sight the second division of the convoy, which was about five hours behind the first. As the
Success
crowded sail and finally vanished, Perrée must have known that his convoy was doomed. If he had ever had a chance of success it had depended upon approaching Grand Harbour in darkness. There was no point in that after his position was known to the enemy. Turning to his flag-captain he gave orders to shorten sail. He then made a signal to the
Vestale
to the effect that an enemy frigate had been seen, ordering her to repeat that message to the
Corbiere.
Morel, he reflected, would know what to do.

“I have had to make a change of plan,” Perrée then explained to his staff. “We shall approach Malta at daybreak on the 18th. We can see then what force we have to encounter.”

“It may be no more than a frigate squadron,” said his flag-captain hopefully.

“To blockade Decrès? No, citizens. We have to face Lord Keith and that frigate has gone to tell him of our approach.”

“In that event, Citizen Rear-Admiral, you might be justified in turning back before it is too late.”

“How can I do that? I have been ordered to relieve Valletta. Were we to sail back to Toulon I should have to say ‘The task was impossible. There was an enemy squadron in the way.' Then I should be asked ‘Of what strength?' To this my reply would be ‘I have no idea because I didn't actually see it. All I saw was a frigate.' I know perfectly well that Lord Keith is outside Grand Harbour. Where else could he be? I know that he is waiting for this convoy. What else could he do? But I can't explain that to a court martial. I can turn back
after
sighting a superior force but not
before.”

“By the time we see it we shall have lost our chance of escape.”

“Undoubtedly. That is a drawback inherent in my mission.”

All Perrée's fears were shown to be justified at daybreak on the 18th. There was a whole squadron waiting for him off Malta's south-eastern coast. The slow
Ville-de-Marseilles
was taken at once by the
Alexander.
Two corvettes managed to escape southwards but the
Généreux
fled towards Sicily, pursued by Lord Nelson in the
Foudroyant,
with the
Northumberland
and
Success.
She was actually engaged by the
Success
before the pursuit began, the frigate firing several broadsides to good effect, and it was during this exchange that Rear-Admiral Perrée was mortally wounded. The crew would seem to have been discouraged by this disaster and the
Généreux,
when overtaken, hauled down her colours after firing a single broadside. After the prizes had been secured, Lord Keith sent ships in pursuit of the two corvettes and others again to escort the prizes to Palermo or Syracuse. The effect of Lord Nelson's success was very much what Perrée had expected. The British squadron was greatly dispersed and the blockade correspondingly weakened. Unchanged, however, was the position of the
Queen Charlotte,
still flying Lord Keith's flag and still in the harbour mouth. Some other ships were also where they had been posted and among them was the sloop
Merlin.

The sound of the gunfire which dispersed and destroyed Perrée's division was faintly heard on board the
Merlin,
at anchor off Mino Island in the strait between Malta and Gozo. The south-easterly wind brought a distant rumbling which gradually died away. The day was overcast with an occasional gleam of sunshine between the rain squalls. In the distance could be glimpsed the citadel of Victoria in Gozo, with the cathedral dome rising above the ramparts.

Not for the first time Delancey wondered how the islanders could find money enough to build a cathedral. They had, as he realised, a wonderful material in which to work. Their limestone, fresh from the quarry, could be sawn, planed, drilled or carved with ease. Placed in position it would then harden and keep its shape for centuries. How different from Guernsey granite!

Comino, in the foreground, was bleak and windswept, crowned by an old derelict castle. There was talk, he had heard, of using it for the safe custody of prisoners of war. In the other direction the waves were crashing on the rocky shores of Malta, beyond which rose the brown deserted hills. Through his telescope he could see two horsemen at a landing place, one of them presently boarding a small boat which headed now for the
Lion
(64), which lay at anchor further to the south. Captain Ball, commanding ashore, had watchers posted on the cliffs and would have the latest news about Perrée signalled to Lord Keith but sent by mounted messenger to the
Lion.
There were two other men-of-war in the strait, anchored further to the eastward, the
Gannet
and the
Sirena
perhaps five miles away.

Half an hour later came the expected signal for the captain of the
Merlin
to report to the
Lion.
The gig soon swept alongside the larger ship and Delancey was received with ceremony. The boatswain's pipe was heard, some boys manned the side and the first lieutenant met him with a salute at the entry port.

As he had approached and now, as he looked about him, Delancey could see that the
Lion
was splendidly maintained and manned; a crack ship with every rope in its place and not so much as a blister on the paintwork. Manley Dixon was among the finest officers afloat, so Delancey had been told, and he could well believe it. There had been no previous meeting, however, and each had some interest in the other. Once in the forecabin, Delancey was greeted by a vigorous well-built man with piercing eyes, very much the seaman and as obviously a man of breeding and intelligence.

“Good-morning, captain. Pray be seated and join me in a glass of Marsala. And allow me to congratulate you on the appearance of your sloop. She looks like a smart frigate in miniature, ready for anything but handled like a yacht.”

“Thank you, sir. I am fortunate in my officers but would not venture to compete in smartness with the
Lion.”

“Thank you in turn. It is, however, the enemy with whom we now have to compete. I expect you heard the gunfire this morning? I have since had a letter from Captain Ball. He tells me that a big French transport, the
Ville-de-Marseilles,
has been captured, with two thousand troops aboard. The other ships have dispersed and their flagship is being pursued towards Sicily and will undoubtedly be taken. She is assumed to be the
Généreux,
flying the flag of Rear-Admiral Perrée . . . I hope you find the Marsala drinkable?”

“It is some of the best I have tasted, sir.”

“Ninety-seven is reckoned a good year. Well, the attempt to relieve Valletta has failed. On the basis, however, of intelligence obtained by you from a prisoner of war, we suspect that the convoy may have sailed in two divisions. Should it have done so, when are we to expect the second division?”

“Tonight, sir. I can't swear, of course, that my guess is correct; nor would it be surprising, for that matter, if the enemy plans had been changed. For all we know, the ships needed may have been lacking. But if a second division is to profit from the situation created by the first, it must arrive before the pursuit is over; and that means, tonight.”

“I agree. And what plan would you expect the enemy to adopt?”

“With the wind backing nor' easterly, my guess is that he would approach Grand Harbour from the north, keeping close under the land.”

“And so into the arms of Lord Keith?”

“Of whose presence he may not be aware. He would also reckon to be covered by the shore batteries for the last mile or two.”

“That's true. But one question remains. Which side of Gozo? Through this strait or round the north?”

“Had I to do it, sir, I should pretend to go one way and actually go the other.”

“Yes, but which?”

“Damned if I know!”

“Look at it again then from our point of view. If we had only the one ship, where should we station her?”

“Just to windward of this strait, ready to intercept the enemy in either direction.”

“Very well, then. The enemy, knowing that, must conclude that we shall be watching the strait. So his convoy will pass north of Gozo.”

“After making a feint in this direction?”

“Something like that. Here, then, is my plan: the
Lion
will stay in or near this strait. The
Merlin
will cruise to the north of Gozo, the
Gannet
further to the east, the
Sirena
to the south.” Manley Dixon had the chart in front of him and marked it in pencil. “What I have now to arrange is a code of signals. You and I will have the island of Gozo between us but we shall be able to see each other's rockets. White flares will mean nothing. If we locate the enemy—one red rocket. Then, to describe the enemy's strength one blue for each man-of-war and one green for each transport. Two red if I want you to join me. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We neither of us know if your guess is correct. Should we sight the enemy tonight, however, their convoy must represent the last French effort to save Valletta. When it fails—if it has not already failed—Vaubois will ask for terms. Before they capitulate, though, the French will try to save the
Guillaume Tell
but without, I think, the least prospect of success. You can tell your men that the fate of Valletta may well be decided tonight. Have they fought a night action before?”

“No, sir.”

“Then exercise them beforehand and make certain they know what they are doing. All sorts of things can go wrong and it is all too easy to fire at your own side. You will look foolish in the morning if it turns out that you have sunk the
Gannet.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

On his way back to his ship, Delancey gave thought to all that Manley Dixon had said. His men had never fought at night and he realised now that they had been trained almost entirely in daylight. It was partly a matter of routine and partly a matter of checking mistakes more easily. Exercising the great guns and small arms normally took place immediately after Divisions (Four Bells in the Forenoon Watch or 10.00 a.m.) or else after dinner at 1.30 p.m. To fix an unusual hour and one after dark would have interfered with other duties and would have been impossible, of course, after hammocks had been piped down. And yet a night action was quite likely, bringing with it problems of its own. Too little thought was given to this and he had himself been as much to blame as anyone else.

On board his own ship again, he explained the situation to Mather and Stirling and added that he would clear for action at nightfall, inspect the guns and talk to the gun captains. It was far from certain that the enemy would appear, but the result of the action, if there was to be one, would be terribly important. A single vessel breaking the blockade and entering Grand Harbour would have a big effect on the morale of the garrison of Valletta, suggesting to them that what could be done once might be done again. That could be enough to prolong the siege for another thirty days. No single enemy craft, therefore, not even the smallest, must be allowed through.

The order to clear for action was given after the crew's supper and there followed a careful inspection of the men and the equipment. Each gun had a crew of nine, numbered off so that each man knew exactly what he had to do. Number One was responsible for the priming wires, tube boxes and vent bit, Number Two for the vent plugs and spar breeching and so down to Number Nine, who had the powder box. The gun would be virtually out of action if the spike and mallet were lost or if Number Six was without his sponge, rammer or worm. Nor was it merely a question of keeping the gun in action. Half a dozen possible mistakes could result in blowing up the whole equipment and leaving the crew dismembered, blinded or dead.

Delancey made his rounds with Topley at heel as his A.D.C., explaining to the youngster how vital it was to have everything in its proper place, from the lantern to the shot grimmet. When he was finished with the guns, Delancey went on to inspect the magazine, of which the gunner had the key, and made sure that the carpenter had the sounding iron and shot plugs, that the riggers had their stoppers and tackles. There was a great deal to do, from extinguishing the galley fire to sanding the decks, and it all had to be done in a matter of minutes. When Delancey was satisfied with the ship's state of readiness, he collected the gun captains round him and gave them some words of warning: