THE HONOURABLE East India Company’s Hong or Factory at Canton faced the river but with a space between in which merchandise was being checked against invoices, weighed, and sorted. A little uncomfortable in full uniform, Delancey left his launch at the quayside with Mr Northmore and threaded his way between the boxes and bales, finally reaching the palatial building which was the headquarters of the China trade. He was shown without delay to the President’s office where he found assembled the Select Committee of Supercargoes, four in number, attended on this occasion by Captain Woodfall, Commodore of the season’s fleet. The President or Tyepan was Mr Thornton, grey-haired, thin-faced, and elegantly dressed. Next to him, on his right, was Mr Inglis, middle-aged, red-faced, and spectacled. On his left were Mr Grant, sallow and sleepy, and Mr Baring, young and alert. They held the best-paid and most enviable appointments in the Company’s service and were all closely related to the more influential directors. Delancey had met them all but had not seen much of them since his arrival. Henry Woodfall, by contrast, he knew quite well, they having dined together on four or five occasions. The Commodore he had found to be a quiet man, reserved and apparently shy but a good seaman and easy to work with. The President’s office was in the Chinese-Corinthian style with high windows, expensive candelabra, and a large portrait in oils of Queen Charlotte when young. It overlooked the river with its turmoil of junks and sampans and was next to the general office in which the clerks had their tall writing desks.
“Good morning, Mr President,” said Delancey, “good morning, gentlemen. I come in response to your letter of March 14th, marked ‘urgent’ and ‘secret.’ In what way, sir, can I be of service to the Honourable Company?”
“Good morning, Captain Delancey.” replied Mr Thornton. “We are most grateful to you for coming here so promptly. You know Captain Woodfall, I think? Good. Well, we are met here in secret session—close the door, please, Mr Baring, and tell Mr Hartley that we are not to be disturbed—we are met to discuss an urgent and most disturbing communication we have just received from the Governor of Prince of Wales Island. It came by the country ship Sarah, probably the last vessel of the season. The Governor has good reason to believe that the French at Mauritius or the Isle of France have recently been reinforced by an 80-gun ship, the Tourville under Captain Roux, together with a new-built and powerful frigate, the Romaine of 44 guns. From the same reliable source he has learnt that the Tourville has been sent out with the express purpose of intercepting the China Fleet. This report must be based on rumour but the Governor points out that it would be folly to send an 80-gun ship on any ordinary cruise of commerce destruction. We must, I think, accept the fact that this danger exists. On this assumption we must decide what to do. One suggestion already made is that the China Fleet should avoid the usual trade route, keep clear of the Straits of Malacca or Sunda, and head for one of the other straits: Bali, perhaps, or Lombok. Mr Inglis reminds me, however, that this was suggested the year before last when we were faced with a similar threat, and a majority of the commanders were against it because of the navigational hazards. He suggests that they would be of the same opinion still, and I incline to agree with him. What do you feel about this, Captain Woodfall?”
“I agree, sir, with Mr Inglis. I should be strongly against taking so valuable a fleet into more or less uncharted waters. The other commanders would, I think, support me in preferring to sail, as planned, for the Straits of Malacca.”
“Should we adhere to that plan we must assume that we shall have the Tourville to reckon with. Had the Leonidas been here, as expected, we should have little cause for concern. In place of the Leonidas, however, we have only the Laura— a fine ship in every way, let me hasten to add, but still only a frigate. Her being here is fortunate, nevertheless, in giving us the advice of Captain Delancey, a very distinguished officer. Pray give us the benefit of your experience, Captain. Are you of the same opinion as Captain Woodfall?”
“Yes, sir. I agree that the fleet should go through the Straits of Malacca and the more so in that a more formidable escort may be provided at Penang. It would be as well, however, if we can suggest to the French that our convoy has a stronger escort than we can actually provide.”
“How are we to do that?”
“Well, sir, the French may not know that the Leonidas was damaged in Saldhana Bay. For all they can tell, she might be entering the river now.”
“Won’t they know of her arrival in England?”
“Not of necessity. Nor can they be certain that no other ship-of-the-line has taken her place.”
“Forgive me, Captain.” said Mr Baring at this point, “but I must ask whether a 64-gun ship, whether real or fictitious, would be thought a match for the Tourville?”
“No, sir,” replied Delancey, “but an action with a 64-gun ship, whatever the result, would leave the Tourville in no state to pursue the convoy.”
“But what if the Tourville were accompanied by a frigate of the larger class?”
“The Indiamen could, between them, beat off a frigate. In my opinion, sir, the presence of the Leonidas would be enough to discourage the French. After the recent battle off Cadiz I should suppose that the French morale is low.”
“So you think we should try to suggest that the China Fleet is well escorted?”
“That is what I advise. What do you think, Captain Wood-fall?”
“I agree, but I wonder how you propose to set about it?”
“The first step is to start a rumour. The second step is to disguise one of the Indiamen as a 64-gun ship. The third step is to disguise the Laura as an Indiaman.”
“But surely,” protested Mr Thornton, “to disguise the Laura is to weaken the convoy’s appearance again?”
“True, sir. But the Frenchman who meets with the fire of one Indiaman, the Laura, will not be eager to engage the others.”
“I see,” said Mr Thornton. “If we agree to this plan, Captain Woodfall, which of your ships shall we transform into a man-of-war?”
“I incline to propose the Upton Castle. That ship’s commander, John Tarleton, was formerly a lieutenant in the Royal Navy.”
“Very suitable. Well, gentlemen, we have a plan to consider. Do we accept it? Mr Inglis?”
“I agree to accept Captain Delancey’s proposal. I suggest, however, that the Upton Castle should borrow some extra men, perhaps from the country ships.”
“Agreed.”
“Mr Baring?”
“I concur, but this rumour needs to be precise and we need to agree on our story.”
“Very well.” replied Delancey. “The Leonidas of 64 guns, commanded by Captain Barnett, dropped anchor two days ago at the anchorage off Lintin Island, following a slow passage from the Cape via the Straits of Sunda. She is not coming up the river but will rendezvous with the China Fleet off Macao. If we each of us pass this information to two other persons—in strict confidence, of course—the rumour should reach the French without delay.”
“Well, sir,” said Mr Thornton, “we are all agreed. I leave you, Captain Woodfall, to make detailed plans with Captain Delancey, keeping me informed about the expense involved. I wish to thank you, Captain Delancey, for your able assistance. The meeting is adjourned.”
Woodfall accepted a seat in Delancey’s launch and they went down the river together, leaving the Earl Camden’s cutter to follow.
“What,” asked Woodfall, “is the essential point in disguising the Upton Castle?”
“The essence of the disguise is to give her a battery on the lower deck. She has the ports painted in black. We need to add the port-lids in red and the guns to project.”
“Very well. We can find planks ashore for the port-lids. I am not quite certain how to make counterfeit guns.”
“Saw up some old or broken spars into three-foot lengths, then fit them to the dummy ports and paint them black.”
“Yes, that would serve our purpose. If we do that, however, in the main anchorage at Whampoa, we shall be seen and a second rumour will follow and contradict the first.”
“I know, I thought of that. Our best way will be to let the Upton Castle sail ahead of the rest, assume her disguise at sea, and come into the Lintin anchorage as the Leonidas (64) with her proper ensign flying. I’ll lend Tarleton my carpenter’s crew.”
Somewhere astern there was a volley of Chinese crackers accompanied by wails of grief.
“Is that your boat in trouble?” asked Delancey.
“It is my coxswain up to mischief,” replied Woodfall. “Each junk has devils clinging to her stern, and each foreign craft has even more devils. If you cut across someone’s bow you add your devils to his. If you pass under her stern his devils are added to yours and you have to frighten them off with fire-crackers.”
“So what has your coxswain done?”
“He has collected the devils from a succession of Chinese craft and then transferred the lot to that junk he has just passed. They are furious!”
They passed between flat rice-fields where women were working under wide-brimmed hats. They saw a succession of willow-pattern pagodas and patient fishermen. The oars dipping steadily, they eventually came to the line of moored Indiamen in the Whampoa anchorage. There were fifteen of them and a dozen country ships, regularly spaced and all in very good order. As a possible prey to the French the fleet was plainly worth millions.
The Upton Castle sailed three days later with a full cargo, also with the Laura’s marines, carpenter and sailmaker, with Mr Topley as signals officer, and twenty volunteers from the other ships. These supernumeraries boarded her after dark and her place in the line was taken by one of the larger country ships. On the following day Captain Woodfall, as Commodore, gave a dinner party for the other commanders, with Delancey as guest of honour. After the cloth had been removed and while the decanters were in circulation, Delancey was invited to address the others on the subject of tactics.
“Commodore, gentlemen,” he began, “we have been told that a French man-of-war, the Tourville of 80 guns, may attempt to intercept the China Fleet with or without the help of a frigate or frigates. As escort we shall have the Leonidas of 64 guns, which will join us at Macao. We shall also have the Laura, but she will take her place among the Indiamen and will be the rear ship in the line of battle. The Leonidas will take up a windward position level with the Earl Camden, between her and the enemy—”
“Forgive the interruption,” said Captain Miller, “but how do you know where the Leonidas will be? Her captain may have other ideas and he—pardon me—may be senior to you.”
“No offence taken, my dear Miller. I happen to know that Captain Barnett is junior to me. To proceed, then, the Tourville will be confronted by a worthy opponent. She will not, I think, come to very close range.”
“Why not?” asked Captain Wardle.
“From fear of being surrounded by Indiamen and so prevented from breaking off the action. Supposing, however, that one Indiaman should fall behind the rest, being plainly mishandled, the captain of the Tourville would be unable to resist the temptation. He would direct a frigate to cut her off.”
“What if he had no frigate?” asked Wardle.
“He might then try to cut her off himself.”
“With what result?” asked Miller.
“He would have such a reception that he would quit the field of battle. If that, he would say to himself, is the weakest of the Indiamen, undermanned, ill-treated, badly commanded, I would rather avoid the rest of them. Make all sail for Mauritius!”
“Are these tactics sure to succeed?” asked the Commodore.
“No tactics are sure to succeed,” replied Delancey, “we can only do our best.”
A long discussion followed, with nuts arranged on the table in order of battle and the French mustard pot representing the enemy. All the probable manoeuvres were described with the appropriate signal for each. When the party finally broke up Captain Miller took Delancey aside and said quietly: “I rather suspect that the Leonidas may have some resemblance to the Upton Castle.”
“Keep that suspicion to yourself then. I want the right rumour to go ahead of us. People expecting to see a 64-gun ship will readily believe that what they see is what they expected to see.”
“You can rely on me, sir. I’ll not share my doubts with anyone else.”
Delancey now decided to take the Laura down to Lintin Island and disguise her in private, away from the Whampoa waterfront. Before quitting the anchorage he paid a farewell visit to the President of the Select Committee, reporting on the progress of the work to be done.
“Have you put one of your lieutenants on board the Upton Castle?” asked the Tyepan.
“No, sir. I thought of it and then reflected that the chief mate, Mr Elton, might resent it. So I sent them a midshipman as signals officer.”
“With your carpenter’s crew?”
“Yes, sir. With full instructions about manufacturing dummy cannon.”
“What you can’t produce is dummy smoke.”
“No. But we bought some Chinese fireworks, which produce a fair imitation of musketry. We think we can show a flash effect at lower-deck level.”
“You have a good man in Captain Tarleton.”
“Very true. Once a man-of-war’s man always a man-of-war’s man. He is spoiling for a fight!”
“Not, I hope, to the point of an ill-considered temerity?”
“He may err in that direction, sir, but I rather approve his belligerence. The deception will be complete if the escorting man-of-war is straining, as it were, at the leash.”
“I hope you are not underrating your opponent!”
“We shall see. But I shall be very surprised—not to say offended—and possibly killed—if the French really press home their attack. Put yourself in their place, sir. Their last action against us led to the destruction of their fleet and the capture of their Commander-in-Chief. They are not in the mood to hazard all on the throw of the dice!”
“Well, Captain, I wish you a good voyage and the best of luck.”
Off Lintin Island the Laura was repainted as an Indiaman. Delancey had expected Mather to recoil with horror from the desecration but he suddenly revealed a taste for theatricals. The frigate was to be not merely a merchantman but the least presentable ship in the fleet. Soon after the transformation had taken place the Upton Castle appeared in her new paintwork and drew from the Laura a round of applause. Tarleton had under his command as formidable a 64-gun ship as could be seen anywhere. Her lower-deck ports were open and fairly bristled with artillery. In earlier life Tarleton must have dreamt of commanding a ship-of-the-line and now he was almost making the dream come true. His commissioning pennant was hoisted, his white ensign flew at the mizen-peak, his marines were drawn up with bayonets fixed, and his recognition number, correctly signalled, was accompanied by the firing of a lower-deck gun (in fact, a Chinese firework). He was plainly ready to fight the world and Delancey made the signal Psalm 35:8: “Let destruction come upon him unawares; and let his net that he hath hid catch himself: into that very destruction let him fall.” Five minutes later the Upton Castle replied with the signal Jeremiah 20:11, which turned out to read: “But the Lord is with me as a mighty terrible one; therefore my persecutors shall stumble, and they shall not prevail: they shall be greatly ashamed: for they shall not prosper: their everlasting confusion shall never be forgotten.”
“Not bad,” said Delancey to Northmore, “but I wonder who thought of that one—Captain Tarleton or Mr Topley?”
“I think, sir, it would be Topley. He has listed suitable quotations by chapter and verse and arranged them alphabetically. That one will have come under the heading ‘Confusion.’”
“Indeed? Mr Topley is a promising officer and I incline to think that he is right. If all goes well, the confusion of the Tourville shall indeed be remembered.”
“And where, sir, will the French ambush be laid?”
“Near the entrance to the Straits of Malacca, where an interception is certain.”
Was he really as confident as that? Would he sight the French off Pulo Aur? And would they launch a half-hearted attack, remaining at long range so being unable to have a clear view of the Upton Castle? Luckily for his peace of mind, he had a great respect for Woodfall and Tarleton. As for the Indiamen, they were in a position to fire a great number of guns. Whether they would hit anything was another matter. They were wretchedly undermanned, as he knew, with crews which included Goanese, Chinese, and Malays; and the Upton Castle would not be much better in this respect than the others. Native seamen were well able to do the simpler tasks on deck but they were of little use in battle and few of them had the physical strength needed for working aloft. The East Indiamen could be made to look formidable, above all by assuming and keeping a tight formation, but it would be unwise to expect much else from them. They were the finest and certainly the biggest merchantmen under the British flag. From the point of view of British trade and insurance, from the viewpoint of Leadenhall Street or Lloyd’s Coffee House, the successful interception of the Indiamen would be an almost unthinkable disaster. And all that stood between the French and the China Fleet was the frigate Laura with Delancey’s ingenuity and Woodfall’s presence of mind. Pondering the odds as he paced the deck, Delancey reflected that he had been dealt a poor hand of cards—and the stake was tremendous.
The French appeared to windward off Pulo Aur when the convoy was nine days out of Macao. Delancey’s heart sank when three sail were reported and sank still more when they were identified later as a ship-of-the-line and two frigates, one of the largest and one of a smaller class. The Tourville flew a Commodore’s pennant and was commanded (as afterwards known) by Etiènne Garnier. The larger frigate was clearly the Romaine, the other was finally identified as the Charente. It was the last-named ship which was ordered to reconnoitre the convoy, approaching near enough to be fired upon by the Upton Castle. It was evening and Garnier decided to defer his attack until the following day. What he could see was a well-formed line of fifteen Indiamen with an escorting man-of-war and a dozen country ships forming a cluster to leeward. The man-of-war appeared to be a smaller third-rate, no match for the Tourville. The numbers were entirely consistent with the reports he had received and he was not surprised to see the man-of-war. One of Popham’s ships had been damaged at the Cape—that much was known—but he would almost certainly have sent another and she would have had time to reach Canton before the change of the monsoon. He noticed, finally, that the sternmost Indiaman was half a mile from the next ahead. The convoy was under easy sail, as if ready to give battle, but that last ship was still unable to keep in station, being probably a dull sailer under an inexperienced master. Was that likely, though? Well, it was quite possible. The appointed master might be sick or might have died. The captain of the Charente, Jean Delisle, reported that this last Indiaman was poorly handled. His study of her, through the telescope, failed to reveal the fact that she was towing a sail astern. But Garnier, while accepting the laggard at her face value, was not quite certain about his chief opponent. Could she be a disguised Indiaman? Such a trick had been played before. In the final resort her real force could only be tested in action.
At daybreak the situation was almost unchanged, the convoy moving slowly southwards, but the sternmost ship had dropped still farther astern and could be seen attempting to make more sail. A signal was being made from the man-of-war, enforced by the firing of a gun. Garnier decided to grasp his opportunity. Directing Delisle in the Charente to cut off the laggard, he himself made sail towards the British man-of-war, keeping the Romaine in his wake. Once the man-of-war was under fire, he could then send the Romaine to cut off the next two Indiamen. If he took only the three of them it would be a considerable success. Were the British man-of-war crippled, on the other hand, he could pursue the convoy for days, capturing the Indiamen one by one until Penang was reached. After their recent victory the British might well be complacent, not realizing that the French ships were gaining in efficiency. In the past there had been bad relations between officers of the old regime and men of the revolution. There was growing up, however, a new generation of seamen, men who had never known the old regime and who saw Napoleon as a more or less true successor to Louis XV. The Tourville was in very good order and the Charente was in some ways better. They were able to give a good account of themselves. The Romaine was only mediocre, although a very fine ship. One way and another, Garnier could see himself as a minor hero in the history books, one of the men who restored French morale after the recent setback. He was a small and excitable man, energetic and zealous, with a mop of curly, dark hair. He ordered his men to clear for action and then made a tour of the gun-decks, accompanied by fife and drum. He told the gun-crews that they had a chance now to strike a blow for the honour of France.
Garnier was outwardly eager to report a success but inwardly anxious to avoid defeat. The last thing he wanted was a confused battle in which he would find himself surrounded by Indiamen. They might not individually amount to much but there were fifteen of them. His hope had been that they would scatter during the night but this was not their plan. They were still in line of battle under reduced sail, daring him to do his worst. It was plainly a situation in which fire should be opened at long range, using his heavy guns to best advantage. If the British man-of-war were counterfeit this would be apparent from her reply. Meanwhile, the Charente would make short work of the wretched Indianian so far astern of the rest. Garnier had Captain Peynier under him as captain of the Tourville, a nervous man who bit his nails and had a bad influence on his superior. The point to establish, he said, was whether their immediate opponent was firing guns from her lower deck. If she were, the ship would be what she seemed to be, a third-rate of the smallest class. If she were not, their opponent could be classed as a merchantman, perhaps with a reinforced crew but no more formidable than a frigate. He appointed a junior officer to observe the enemy’s fire through a powerful telescope. “Vignot,” he said, “you will report at once when you have evidence either way.” When the Tourville opened fire, however, at extreme range, there was nothing to report because the British guns were still silent. Another broadside roared out, making the deck shudder beneath his feet, but Vignot could see nothing but the splashes made by the French shot, mostly falling short. There was a pause of five minutes while the two ships converged and the range lessened. Then Peynier decided to try again, his next broadside doing some little damage but still without eliciting a reply. Peynier knew very well what his opponent’s plan would be. The first broadside was always the most carefully aimed and the most effective and the British were seldom willing to waste it at long range. But there was surely no merchantman in the world so disciplined as to hold its fire for ten minutes? Their opponent was not merely a man-of-war but one commanded by a resolute disciplinarian; this was, surely, obvious. There was no response from the British for another five minutes. At last, watching intently, Vignot could see the flashes from the British gun-muzzles—flashes visible on both decks, followed by billowing smoke and followed again by the thunder of the cannon. He reported at once to Captain Peynier. “There are flashes visible on the enemy’s lower deck.” Peynier repeated this information to the Commodore. “That settles my first problem,” he replied. “I shall not close the range any further. Continue the action.” This order was obeyed but the nervous Peynier actually kept further away with the result that his next broadside fell short again. There was no important damage on either side, at least none visible, but the Tourville was hit three or four times, two seamen being wounded. No guns were fired from the Indiamen which were still placidly heading southward in close formation.
If the Tourville was handled with excessive caution, the Charente went into action with every sign of confidence. Captain Audenet half expected the Indiamen to tack in succession or even tack together, coming to the rescue of the lame duck. But she was apparently left to her fate and the French frigate headed so as to cross her bows. It was the classic situation of the snake and the rabbit. It is true that the Indiaman altered course in time to avoid the enfilade but this might well have been inadvertent, the result of mere panic. Coming down on his prey, Audenet was almost shocked to see all the evidence of ill-discipline and ignorance. The Indiaman opened fire at long range but her guns were fired singly and at long intervals. Through his telescope the French captain could see a group of men hurrying from one gun to another. Half the cannon were not even manned and the shots fired all went high and wide. As for the sails and rigging, there was a bird’s nest appearance, the foresail partly furled and a stay-sail apparently collapsed across the after-hatch. Some ladies were seen on the quarter-deck and were, with difficulty, made to go below—one reappearing later in apparent hysterics. Some civilian passengers surrounded the captain, urging him, no doubt, to surrender. A distracted-looking officer was apparently trying to quell a mutiny with drawn sword and one mutineer seemed to be trying to strike the ensign. Other seamen on the forecastle seemed to be drunk. Captain Audenet decided that the prize was already his and that he wanted to have her undamaged. He ceased fire, therefore, and tacked so as to take up a position across his victim’s bows. This time he succeeded and was rather amused to see the Indiaman’s foresail come partly down with a run and flap uselessly in a tangle with the fore-staysail. He gave orders for lowering the boats and boarding the prize and then, through his speaking-trumpet, called on the Indiaman’s crew to surrender. A figure now appeared on the Indiaman’s forecastle and shouted back through his own speaking-trumpet: “What do you say?” Audenet repeated his demand, wondering what scene of confusion there must be behind the flapping foresail. His victims did not even know how to surrender! He hailed them once more: “Haul down your colours—or else I’ll sink you! Haul down your miserable flag!”
On board the Laura, Delancey now gave the order for his men to man the starboard battery. Behind the foresail which momentarily hid the scene from her opponent the frigate sprang to life, every man running to his action station. The tangle aloft began to sort itself out and the ship began a slow swing to port, gradually presenting her broadside to the Charente. Too late, the French frigate’s first lieutenant saw what was going to happen. “Back to your posts!” he yelled. “Prepare to open fire!” shouted the captain. “Look out!” bawled a dozen other voices but the general reaction was far too slow. Delancey could now be seen on the Laura’s quarterdeck and his drawn sword, sweeping round, pointed at a quarter-deck carronade. It fired and then, after a count of five seconds, the entire broadside fired all but simultaneously. There was a crashing of woodwork, a whistle of grapeshot, a screaming of the wounded, and a babble of orders. “Fire!” shouted the first lieutenant. “Make all sail!” bawled the captain. The Frenchmen were still trying to organize themselves when the Laura’s second broadside followed the first and with murderous effect. Her decks littered with dead and wounded, the Charente managed to break off the duel and pull clear of her antagonist. Audenet then made all sail to rejoin his Commodore, making the signal that he had sustained a loss of thirty-four dead and seventy-one wounded. Seeing this signal, Garnier ordered the Charente to resume her station in the line. He had now to decide what to do next. The Charente had walked into a trap and it was a mistake he could not afford to repeat. He was puzzled over his own opponent, observing that his own ship had so far sustained relatively little damage. Was she really a man-of-war? But then there was that other ship with a Commodore’s pennant. Could she be the real escort? There had been a trap—the mishandled ship lagging astern—but was that the only trap? If the Tourville were handled as the Charente had been, he would have to end his cruise and return to the Ile de France. He decided to break off the engagement and allow the convoy to go on its way. By nightfall he was out of sight to the southward and the China Fleet was heading for the Straits of Malacca.
On the following day, in calm seas, Woodfall gave a dinner for Delancey and the other commanders. Healths were drunk in an atmosphere of mutual congratulation. John Tarleton was something of a hero and made a suitably modest speech. A ceremony then followed in which Delancey was made an Honorary East India Commander. Longhurst, commanding the David Scott, the ship ahead of the Laura, who had enjoyed the nearest view of Delancey’s skirmish, was lyrical in his description of it.
“At one moment there was chaos with a ship in utter confusion, badly commanded, ill-trained, ill-disciplined, tottering somewhere between a mutiny and surrender. Then came the transformation scene! In a minute there was a frigate in action, every man at his post, every gun manned and armed. Then—crash—came that first broadside! I never saw anything like it! The French did not know what had happened to them. And before they had recovered their wits the next broadside hit them. That ship was completely silenced and I wonder now that you did not go on and capture her. A success like that, frigate against frigate, would have earned you your knighthood.”
“I’ll admit I was tempted,” replied Delancey, “and I agree that the frigate could have been captured. But remember, please, what I had been told to do. My orders were to escort the China Fleet from Macao to Penang. Had I taken that frigate, the French Commodore would have retaken her and would, in doing so, have attacked the convoy. Look at it from his point of view. In intercepting the China Fleet he loses a frigate, captured by an apparent merchantman! There is no comparable event in history. He is left with two alternatives. Having broken off the engagement, he can shoot himself before the court martial can assemble, or else he must go into battle and recapture that frigate regardless of the cost in lives and damage. How would the battle have ended? With the capture of the Tourville? I doubt it. But the result, whatever happened, would not have been consistent with the convoy’s safety.”
“But what if the Tourville had been taken?” asked Tarleton. “We might picture her surrounded by Indiamen, unable to escape and fired on from all directions. What a story that would have made, what an event for the history books!”
“That is all very well,” said Delancey, “for a navy captain like you, commanding a ship-of-the-line like the Leonidas. A fire-eating man-of-war’s captain need not count the cost. We East India Commanders—” (there was a roar of laughter at this point) “we—East India Commanders look at the matter differently. We were not sent out here to fight with the French. Our orders were to fetch tea from Canton and deliver it safely to the East India Docks in London River. That is what we are doing and any escort provided is to help us achieve our purpose. Captain Longhurst reminded me just now that my capturing a French frigate in a single-ship duel would have earned me the honour of a knighthood. That is probably true but I was not sent to the East in search of honours, nor am I the man who should receive them. The knighthood, if there is one, should go to Captain Woodfall, the Commodore under whose pennant we were all proud to serve. Allow me, sir, to anticipate events and give the toast ‘Sir Henry Woodfall!’”
Back on board the Laura, Mather reported on the dinner he had given for the officers and midshipmen. “Morale is high, sir,” he concluded. “The effect of that pantomime, followed by those broadsides, has been excellent. We all see the Laura now as a crack ship. It is only a first-rate crew which can pretend to be hopeless. We had every reason, sir, to be proud of them.”
“I am proud of them. But remember this, Mr Mather, the crew is now at its peak, fresh from Europe, healthy and up to strength. This is too good to last. We shall presently feel the effects of tropical illness, losses, invaliding, early promotion, recruitment of native seamen, and general lassitude. The real test will come in a year’s time and in the year after that. We cannot hope to be as good as we are now. Our hope must be that we shall still be better than the other side.”
No longer in line of battle, the China Fleet was sailing up the Straits of Malacca with the Laura under easy sail to windward. The distant blue mountains on either side rose above the clouds and the sea was alternately in sunlight and shadow. It was very hot and humid as compared with China, the equator being not far to the south of them. Awnings were rigged and rules relaxed about uniform, even officers wearing only shirt and trousers. Mather had a group of midshipmen taking bearings with the sextant.
Delancey walked aft and left them to it. How was he going to do without Mather? He was fortunate to have kept him for so long; for long enough, indeed, to have trained the midshipmen. He himself could never have done that so well. Fitzgerald, on the one hand, lacked the patience and Greenwell lacked the knowledge. The Laura would presently drop anchor at Penang and there, as he guessed, his troubles would begin. There would be malaria, to begin with, desertion quite possibly, and a general wastage of men who could not be replaced. He was lucky to have fought that action when he did, using tactics he would never dare use again while on this station. At Penang he would almost certainly receive fresh orders. He would probably hand over the China Fleet to another and stronger escort. He would have to call on the recently appointed Governor. He would also have the opportunity of writing his next letter home. He would do better, in fact, to write the letter beforehand, knowing that he would be busy from the time of his arrival there. So he went to his day cabin and began:
March 28th 1806
My dearest Fiona—I please myself with the thought that I am nearer to you each day, and could only wish that this would, of necessity, hasten the day on which we shall be reunited. I suspect, alas, that their Lordships will have other work for me during the months to come. We have had some success, however, during the last few days, having saved the China Fleet from an attack by three French men-of-war, one of them the Tourville of 80 guns. We could not have out fought the French but we achieved a theatrical success and one which would have won your professional approval.
We have in the Laura— and I suppose there is in every ship—a fair amount of amateur acting talent. On the way to China, when we were sailing steadily with the southwesterly monsoon behind us, the starboard watch put on a performance of The Rivals by Richard Brinsley Sheridan, a play in which I know you have acted (as Julia, I think?). It was really very well done and several of the midshipmen did famously in the women’s parts. I became aware, anyway, of the talent we had available.
On the return voyage I decided to transform the Laura into an Indiaman and we agreed, further, that she should be the worst ship in the fleet, ill-trained, ill-handled, slow, and useless. When I explained my plan to the officers I read them a part of Shakespeare’s play The Tempest (Act 1, Scene 1). You know the scene “All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost!” Then I assigned them their parts in our own little play.
When faced by the enemy we were to stage a scene of utter confusion, a nightmare of disorder with more than half the crew hidden below decks and the rest behaving like madmen. Cannon would be fired but aimed wide of the target, sails were to fall on the deck, men were to mutiny and fight each other—there was to be a scene worthy of Drury Lane. The success of this production was possible only because the crew was highly disciplined and trained by Mr Mather, the ideal first lieutenant. I could never have risked a scene of confusion if there had been any danger of the confusion becoming real.
Calling upon our acting talent, we presented the very picture of chaos, the characters on stage being some of them civilians and some of them ladies (with costumes made for The Rivals), some of them in a state of mutiny and some of them drunk. So our opponents, in a French frigate of about the same force, declined to take us seriously. They ceased fire and awaited our surrender. At that moment we suddenly pulled ourselves together and fired two broadsides which nearly sank them. This ended the battle, the French concluding that where the worst ship was so dangerous the best ships must be invincible. Their Commodore took himself off and will discover before long that he is the laughing stock of the Indian Ocean. With our losses confined to two men slightly wounded, I flatter myself that our farce has been a success. Let me add that I have no plans for staging a tragedy.
We are approaching Prince of Wales Island, a settlement which has recently been elevated to the rank of Presidency, complete with Governor, Council, and Garrison. There are further plans for making it a naval base with facilities for building men-of-war. It remains to be seen whether these plans will answer. We spoke with a southward-bound country ship yesterday and I learnt from her that Sir Edward Pellew (the Admiral under whose orders I am placed) is there on a flying visit from Madras. He is one of the best seamen of the day with a great reputation in gunnery and tactics. He may well think up some service for me which I had rather avoid! He will be much concerned over the damage being done by French privateers which operate from Mauritius. The most active of these is a ship called the Subtile commanded by the famous Pierre Chatelard, who has so far avoided all efforts to capture him.
We capture other privateers from time to time and our prizes are then sold for the benefit of the captors, much to the profit of people like myself. After changing hands two or three times the privateer vessel, which is usually ill-designed for anything but privateering, is then repurchased by her original French owners and sent forth again to prey on our shipping. It would be in the public interest to destroy them on capture but this we cannot afford to do. I should add that we in the Laura have so far made nothing. We might have earned, and we may even receive, the thanks of the East India Company but this will do nothing to pay our mess-bills.
On this subject I should add that we have now recruited a number of Chinese servants. I have one to do my laundry and the wardroom officers have three, one of them a cook. So we have Chinese dishes on occasion, and we add to these a variety of tropical fruit. One of these, the durian, has a pleasant taste but a most offensive smell and has to be eaten while holding one’s nose!
We have just sighted Prince of Wales Island and I am wanted on deck. So I will close this letter, meaning to tell you in my next letter how much you mean to me and what misery it is to be so far from you and for so long. Pray remember me to my neighbours round Anneville.
And believe me still,
Your most affectionate husband,
Richard Delancey