THE SIGHTING of the enemy came as a surprise to many, but not to the Commodore nor to Delancey. When news reached France of the Battle of Grand Port Napoleon’s instinct would be to follow up the victory. It would be obvious to him that Hamelin should be reinforced. He would issue orders to that effect and the Minister of Marine would realize their urgency. The likelihood was that the frigates would sail almost at once and that they would be the fastest and best ships available. Later would come the news that Mauritius itself had fallen. It would then be too late to recall the frigates which would be half-way to the Cape and crowding all the canvas they had. Once in the Indian Ocean, they would approach Mauritius with caution, alert for a possible blockading squadron.
They would look to the signal station and there, sure enough they would see the signal in their own secret code which meant “There is no enemy ship in sight.” The British signalmen did not possess the whole code, as Delancey knew, but that was a signal they could make and certainly would; and he could himself claim some credit for the signal. All being well, the French frigates would identify themselves and enter harbour. At some point (but at what point?) they would realize that they had been trapped but it would then be too late. They would be under the guns of the batteries on the Ile aux Tonneliers and Fort Blanc. For the leading frigate escape would be impossible but what if they were far apart? In that event the first ship might find means to warn the others. They would go about and vanish in a cloud of spray.
To provide against this eventuality, Commodore Beaver had stationed two frigates, the Phoebe and Galatea, to windward, so that they could cut off the French retreat. If the French ships came anywhere near the harbour mouth they would not easily escape.
Having issued his orders to prepare the Minerva for sea, Delancey went ashore again to report progress. He was shown at once into the inner office where he found the Commodore in an irritable mood. Beaver looked haggard, grey-faced and thin, a sick man who would never give up. His office was in a turmoil, with orders being scribbled and with messengers coming and going.
“Well, Delancey—did you receive my message?”
“Yes, sir. We could sail this evening but we should not be provisioned for more than a month. The lighters are alongside but we shall not be properly supplied until the end of the week, not even if we work round the clock.”
“Well, it can’t be helped. If a French frigate enters harbour you must be ready to take possession of her. Now, as you are here, I had best tell you what the position is. We had guessed that Napoleon would try to reinforce his squadron here and we now know, from intelligence sources, that three of his frigates are on the way, the Renommée, Clorinde, and Néréide, all of their largest 40-gun class. There is supposed to be a corvette with them called the Fidèle but I am puzzled about her—the only Fidèle we know about is a small frigate. Three sail have now been sighted but we think one of them is a much smaller vessel, a storeship or a prize. If they are engaged by the Phoebe and Galatea, you should sail and join in the action. Our signal station above the town will do everything possible, however, to lure the Frenchmen into the harbour.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“We should know the result of our deception plan in about an hour.”
The climax came sooner than that. The Commodore had placed look-out men on the roof and one of them came in now to report:
“Beg pardon, sir. The Frenchmen have gone about and are steering eastwards.”
“Damnation! What made them take fright? Could we have been using an out-of-date code?”
“There is another possibility, sir,” said Delancey. “They could have received another signal from the shore, a signal of warning to contradict ours.”
“Another signal? Made by whom?”
“Made by an agent of theirs still on the island.”
“Have they such an agent?”
“Yes, sir, I believe they have.”
“I give you then the task of finding him, and I hope you succeed before that third frigate appears. If they lost touch with each other, the third one might be no better informed and possibly less suspicious than the other two. In the meanwhile, these first two will be pursued by Phoebe and Galatea and we shall hope to have you provisioned before anything else happens.”
Back on board the Minerva, Delancey took a telescope up to the maintop and began a careful study of the landscape behind Port Louis. There were two mountain peaks, La Pouce and Pieter Both, which he ruled out as likely to be veiled by cloud. At a lower level there were numerous hill features to be seen from out at sea. The trouble was that they were too numerous. He took bearings on several of the more promising and then plotted them on the map, comparing that again with the town plan. It would clearly take days to explore all the possible locations and he presently called Sevendale into consultation. Should he send out several parties? He decided, in the end, to keep the marines together.
“But what about our cases of fever, sir? Aren’t we still in quarantine?”
“Our fever patients are recovering,” Delancey assured him solemnly. “I think the danger is less. And the need to find this signal station is urgent, with that third frigate on her way. We shall land at daybreak tomorrow and set to work, moving from left to right, covering each possible hill feature. The party will be armed and rations for the day will be issued before we go ashore. I shall be accompanied by Midshipman Ledingham, as A.D.C., and by my coxswain. The military commandant has been told of our mission and has given his approval. We should be on board again by nightfall.”
Orders are often easy to issue, sometimes arduous to execute. In this instance the day was hot, the hills were steep, the going was rough, and the result, by evening, was exactly nothing. The same party went ashore on the next day, continuing to search and with as little success. Features which seemed promising from a distance turned out to be covered by jungle. Others were accessible but had no view of the sea. Some, viewed from below, looked hopeful but had somehow vanished by the time they were reached. Remembering how Fabius had treated prisoners in Borneo and Bourbon, remembering the murder he had committed in Ireland, Delancey would not easily abandon the search. He became increasingly anxious, however, as it went on, for the likelihood was that the third frigate would appear before he had located the signal station.
On the fourth day Delancey had the consolation of knowing that the Minerva was now provisioned for six months and in all respects ready for sea. On the fifth day he found what he was looking for. He and his party had climbed a minor hill feature, pushing breast-high through oleanders, shaded occasionally by jacarandas, battling through undergrowth and coming out finally on a flat and empty summit, lacking any sign of having ever been used for anything. Men threw themselves, panting, on the stony ground under the hot sun. Sevendale had a word with one of his men who said he was footsore.
Delancey focused his telescope on the distant Minerva, looking like a child’s toy in a seaside pool. A lighter was just pulling away from her side and he reckoned that it would be the last one. Of the others, the first to recover was Ledingham who went to look at some wild flowers. A few minutes later he came running back to the party, calling out “I think I’ve seen it, sir!” Delancey followed where the boy led, expecting to have his attention drawn to something higher up the mountainside. But Ledingham ran to the edge of the plateau and pointed downwards.
There, perhaps three hundred feet below, stood a hut alongside a signal mast. They must have passed quite near it as they made their ascent. Its position had been chosen with great care, as was obvious. It was screened by trees on either side, making it visible from the sea on a given bearing but not from any other direction. It could not be seen from below, he guessed, and the mast was painted a dark colour to merge with a background of conifers. He had seen nothing of it from the harbour, nor would anyone see it from the town. It had been set up, he supposed, while the French still had the island and set up, moreover, with a view to its use after the island had fallen. There must have been another place from which signals were sent to Bourbon, a station high up in the mountains. All these signal arrangements were masterly, he concluded, as he focused his telescope on the hut.
Even as he did so, a man emerged from the hut, also with a telescope, and placed the instrument on a tripod. He beckoned to the hut and was joined by another man, who presently hurried to fetch a third. Following the directions in which that telescope was pointed, he could see the glimmer of distant sails. Making the same discovery at the same instant, young Ledingham reported: “Two ships heading for Port Louis, sir.” Delancey cursed inwardly, realizing that from almost any other point, the ships would have been visible half an hour ago. They had been screened from him by another hill. He would now have to act at top speed and would probably be too late at that.
“Follow me!” he shouted to the others and led them in a breakneck descent of the hill. The scramble which followed was a nightmare. Choosing what seemed the easiest line, he was foiled by a patch of bog and had to turn in the other direction. This brought him into a farmyard where a small mongrel went into hysterics and pigsties seemed to block every exit. Climbing over a dry-stone wall, which largely fell down, brought them into a lane which led in the wrong direction.
To escape from this, Delancey broke through a bamboo hedge and ran through an orchard beyond which was an impenetrable clump of saplings. He followed these to the right and came to a path which at least led downhill. Here he paused so that his sweating followers might catch up with him. They did so, volleying blasphemy, and he set off again down the hillside. When he paused again, on the banks of a dried-up stream, he realized that he had probably descended to the level of the signal hut and had no idea whether it lay to the left or right. He had to admit to himself that he was lost.
Sevendale, when he came up, was inclined to think that they should go to the left, Ledingham favoured the right, and the marine sergeant had no opinion on the subject. With time so pressing, Delancey divided his forces, sending Sevendale to the left with half the marines, he and Ledingham, with the sergeant and his coxswain, going to the right. Whichever party sighted the signal mast would fire three shots in the air.
Skirting a patch of cultivated ground, he came on a cottage from which an old woman rushed out indignantly, waving her stick at them. When she saw the redcoats she ceased cursing and tried to explain something as she pointed down the hillside. Her French patois was difficult to follow and Delancey could not at first make out what she was trying to say. He eventually understood that she thought they must be hunting a runaway slave—such hunts being a familiar sight—and that she had seen a stray Negro earlier in the day. Delancey explained, while his panting men caught up, that he was looking for a small hut with a flagpole. She was too obsessed with her story to take much notice of his. In his exasperation he lost what was normally a fair French accent and lapsed into the Guernsey patois he had known as a child. In some odd way this actually conveyed something to her. She nodded vigorously and pointed up the hillside, adding some confused advice as to the best route to follow. She had confirmed his worst fear, that he had descended too far, but on the whole confirmed Ledingham’s sense of direction.
Thanking her, he turned right beyond her cottage and began to climb the hill again, being grateful for the shade of some trees, as also for the wind which was now against him. Breasting a steeper slope, he presently heard, ahead of him and to his left, a sound which he could always recognize; the sound of signal flags snapping in the breeze. He paused then, gesturing to his men to keep silence and deploy. They had best advance in good order for the need for immediate haste had gone. Whatever they did, they had arrived too late.
The signal had been made but it was still desirable to catch the enemy agents. He therefore detached Ledingham with four marines to make a circling movement to the right, the sergeant with four more to circle left, while he himself with his coxswain and three marines gave the others a few minutes start and then went straight ahead. Drawing his own pistol, he told the marines to fix bayonets and advance. Moving up a final and steeper slope, he came out on a small level space with the mast in the centre and the hut just beyond. Three men were grouped round the telescope and were looking seawards. To the right of the hut Ledingham appeared, pistol in hand, two marines on either side of him. To the left the marine sergeant appeared behind the hut, which was then surrounded. The manoeuvre completed, Delancey moved quietly forward, with pistol levelled, and could now recognize Fabius as the centre man in the group. When within easy range, he halted and called out:
“Surrender! Lay down your arms. You are surrounded.”
Fabius whipped round in a second, reaching for his coat pocket, but paused again when he saw that Delancey’s pistol was aimed at him. Looking round, he could see that his situation was hopeless, with fixed bayonets glittering on every side. He dropped his pistol on the ground and his two assistants did the same. Delancey’s coxswain stepped forward, picked up the weapons, and searched the prisoners to ensure that they had no others concealed. He relieved Fabius of a dagger and one of his henchmen gave up a pocket bludgeon. A fourth man had been disarmed in the hut and was brought out by the sergeant under guard. Ledingham went to the mast and hauled down the signal flags. After looking through the telescope on its tripod, he reported to Delancey that the ships had gone about and were crowding canvas. One was a frigate of the largest class and the other a small frigate or corvette.
Fabius looked exactly as he had done on the occasion of their previous meeting in Ireland, a fattish smooth-faced man with the air of an unfrocked priest. His voice was under perfect control and his tone was sarcastic.
“Ah, the good Captain Delancey, as zealous as ever in serving King George the Third—who has gone mad, by the way, or so I have been told. Well, we meet again and I am this time at more of a disadvantage. I must accept my fate as a prisoner-ofwar.”
“You are not a prisoner-of-war, Mr Fabius, if that is indeed your name. You are a civilian facing charges of treason, spying, torture, and murder.”
“And what evidence have you? Gossip in Ireland but not a single witness? Suspicious circumstances in Borneo or Bourbon? The making of a signal in Mauritius? Come, sir, you can’t be serious. Your case against me amounts to nothing and you know it. As for treason, how can you show that I am or have ever been a British subject? Bring me to trial and your case will be laughed out of court.”
“You forget, perhaps, that these underlings of yours may break under interrogation and betray you.”
“How can they betray me? They know nothing about me and three of them can prove that they have never been outside the Ile de France. No, my friend, your case against me rests upon nothing.”
“So you think you will be acquitted and can return to France as an exchanged prisoner-of-war?”
“I am willing to make a bet on it.”
“But I am not, Mr Fabius. I now incline to think, however, that you are right. You will never stand trial. There is, as you say, a lack of evidence. Quite apart from that, I shall sail today and could not be present at your trial. Without my evidence, you might well avoid conviction on any serious charge. Nor can I spend any longer time on your case. So your argument leaves me with no alternative. You have reached the end of the road, Fabius, and it only remains to say good-bye.”
Contemptuous at first, Fabius had come to realize at last what Delancey intended. Desperate, he shouted, “And you call me a murderer!” before attempting to dash at his opponent. A shot rang out and the man collapsed in a bloodstained heap on the grass, shot through the heart. Delancey’s pistol was smoking in his hand but he now returned it to his pocket. “Shot while attempting to escape,” he remarked briefly.
“And now we must return to our ship as quickly as possible. Sergeant, fire three shots in the air as a signal to Mr Sevendale. Remain here for half an hour, if need be, and tell him what has happened. Then make for the frigate at the double. We shall be sailing within the hour. Mr Ledingham, search the hut and collect any papers you may find there. Take them back to the ship—and quickly. Tanner, take charge of the three prisoners, tie their wrists behind their backs, and take two marines to escort them on board the Minerva. And hurry! Remainder, follow me!”
Picking up the dead man’s pistol and searching him in vain for documents, Delancey set off again down the hillside and now with even more haste. He and his companions had the slope in their favour and the wilder country gradually gave place to farmland and that to the outskirts of Port Louis.
Gasping and sweating, they hurried through the streets, stared at by the French inhabitants and jeered at by the children. When they came within sight of the harbour Delancey was still meaning to report to the Commodore’s office but he saw now that there was no time for that. Against a contrary wind, Northmore had already warped the Minerva out of harbour, leaving only the launch behind at what had been the frigate’s berth. With a final effort Delancey brought his party to the boat and scrambled aboard.
“Push off!” he ordered at once. “And row for dear life!” His marines looked at him with wonder, knowing that he had left so many on shore, but he had already thought how to rescue them. As they passed a storeship near the harbour mouth, he hailed the captain and asked him to send his boat for the remainder of his men. Ten minutes later Delancey was on his own quarter-deck, being greeted by a worried first lieutenant.
“Thank God you’re here, sir!” said Northmore. “The signal was made for us to sail as soon as those French ships went about. It was repeated half an hour ago. So I began to warp out of harbour, wondering what to do if—anyway, I can’t tell you what a relief it is to see you!”
“You did very well. Mr Northmore. Keep the launch in the water—we may need to send ashore—and let me know when the rest of the shore party comes aboard. I must write a letter to the Commodore. I’ll be in my cabin for the next quarter of an hour. Tanner will bring three prisoners on board. You can enter them as landsmen volunteers.”
A minute later the captain’s clerk was taking down a letter which was dictated at top speed.
Sir—I have the honour to report that the Minerva is about to make sail after the French ships which are still in sight from our foretopmast-head. Some members of the crew have still to join but should be on board very soon. I had Vice-Admiral Bertie’s orders to sail for England as soon as my mission to the Seychelles had been accomplished and I venture to presume that these orders still hold good. It is my intention to overtake and engage these French men-ofwar. Having done so I shall proceed to England as ordered. If I am not authorized to do this you might be good enough to signify your disapproval by hoisting the negative and firing a gun. With the wind in this quarter I should still be in sight after you receive this. I have the honour to be, sir,
Your obedient servant,
Richard Delancey
Without pausing for a second he went on to add a personal letter which read:
Dear Commodore—When last we met you instructed me to find the enemy agent who signalled a warning to the previous group of French men-of-war. I am now able to report that I found him but not in time to prevent him repeating the trick. I arrived about twenty minutes after the signal had been made. The agent who once used the codename of Fabius was killed in attempting to escape. Three men with him be entered on board this ship. You will realize that time for me was short. Your signal for the Minerva to sail was made before I had found the men I had been looking for and it was all I could do to return on board before Northmore sailed without me! With such need for haste I could never have brought these men to trial or even left them under arrest. There was no time even to explain what their crime had been. Fabius solved a problem for me by his attempt to escape. Of the other three one may be an agent of some slight importance, perhaps from Bourbon. The other two are mere underlings, I think, recruited locally. Without any pretence of justice I have condemned them to serve as landsmen on board this frigate. There is no reason why you should have official knowledge of their fate. As regards Fabius however, someone must collect his body from the stricken field. Here again you need know nothing about it and I suggest that you use some local messenger to deliver the enclosed note to the military commandant. Allow me to thank you for your kindness and assure you that I shall overtake these French ships if it is humanly possible. I write myself
Your obliged servant,
Richard Delancey
The enclosed note was written by the captain’s clerk in his own (as opposed to his copperplate) handwriting.
This comes to inform you, sir, that French agents have set up a signalling post from which they warn French ships away from the island. Their signal mast is on the hills behind Port Louis and this map will show you where it is.
Wellwisher
Delancey made a hurried sketch to indicate roughly where the place was. He left it to the commandant to decide for himself why there should be a corpse on the site. No harm would be done if these soldiers were given something to think about.
He had hardly finished this task before young Lewis reported the arrival of the storeship’s boat. Delancey went on deck to meet the gaze of a reproachful Sevendale.
“Are all your men on board? Good. Well done! Tanner, give this letter to the boat’s coxswain and tell him to deliver it to naval headquarters, with a guinea for his trouble. Mr Topley, we shan’t need the launch, after all. Hoist it inboard. Mr Ledingham, take your telescope to the foretop and tell us what you can see of the French. Give the order, Mr Topley, for all hands to make sail. Mr Lewis, make this signal and fire a gun: “Enemy in sight, am going in chase.” Where are your prisoners, Tanner? Untie them but put them in irons. Mr Sevendale, the marine shore party is to splice the mainbrace and is excused any further duty until tomorrow.”
Close-hauled, the frigate was soon under way, with the enemy just in sight and Mauritius already more distant. Delancey watched the shore through his telescope and was rewarded eventually by the Commodore’s signal of acknowledgement and “Good luck” spelt out. He knew now, with tremendous relief, that he was at last on his way home. More fortunate still, he had a superb frigate, fully manned, with the enemy ahead of him and a chance to come into Portsmouth in a blaze of glory. There could be no certainty about it but the frigate he was pursuing must have been slower, for some reason, than the other two, and it should therefore be possible to overtake her. It only remained to train his crew to such a standard in gunnery that they would be more than a match for any French frigate—and indeed in this case a match for two of them.
Next day Delancey called a conference of his officers and told them first, the story of Fabius, so far as it was known to him.
“In the ordinary way it would have been difficult to deal with him, if only for lack of time. Luckily he solved the problem for me by trying to escape. So I shot him dead and may hope that any further French ships which approach Mauritius, not knowing that it has capitulated, will fall into our hands. On the day we sailed some seamen were inclined to blame the marines for delaying us. I tell you this story so that all on board will know that the marines did very well and are not to be blamed for any delay. We are now in chase of a French frigate which I suspect is the Clorinde of 40 guns. The ship with her is probably the Fidèle which is either a small frigate or large corvette. I shall be disappointed if we fail to take them both.”
“But—forgive me, sir—the Frenchmen are no longer in sight!” Contact with the enemy had been lost during the night and Northmore evidently assumed that the situation would have been different had his captain not wasted time ashore.
“They are no longer in sight,” Delancey admitted, “but that is of no consequence. The point is that we know where they are going. They have made a passage from France to Mauritius without calling anywhere. They have found Mauritius closed to them. So they must be short of water and must find some in a matter of weeks. So they are heading for Tamatave in Madagascar. What else could they do? We have about eight hundred miles to sail and perhaps ten days in which to perfect our gunnery. After that, we may expect to engage the Clorinde and the Fidèle and compel them both to haul down their colours. So we all know what we have to do.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” said Northmore, “might we know, sir, what tactics you intend to pursue?”
“Well, I shall assume, first of all, that two frigates will hardly refuse battle against one. I must also suppose that we shall be on the same tack and that the Fidèle will be ahead of the Clorinde. In this way the French might try to prevent me from cutting off their weaker ship. If I then accept the challenge and close with the Clorinde, the Fidèle may escape, which is the very thing I must prevent. My aim must be to deal with the Fidèle first, crippling her before the real action begins. I shall fail in this, however, if my intention is too soon apparent. Nor should I succeed without men enough to man both batteries, which fortunately I have. It is possible, though not certain, that these French ships may be carrying troops to reinforce the garrison of Mauritius, which will make them more formidable at close quarters. I need hardly tell you that the action I expect may involve us in heavy but unavoidable loss. Apart from any tactical advantage we may secure, all will depend upon accurate and rapid gunnery. Between here and Madagascar we shall practise each day, being fortunately able to spare the powder.”
“Sir,” said Topley anxiously, “if our first object is to cripple the Fidèle, we shall, I suppose, load at first with canister and chain or bar shot. Does this mean that we shall pass the Clorinde without returning her fire?”
“I hope that we shall not have to do that but the men should be warned that such a necessity may arise.”
“Would it be possible, sir,” asked Northmore, “to steer between them?”
“It would indeed, and we should end with one of them on either beam—not a promising situation to be in.”
“Should we assume, sir,” asked Sevendale, “that the captain of the Clorinde is aware of our pursuit?”
“Undoubtedly. He saw us as we came out of Port Louis and he could see that we were alone. I doubt whether he could have identified us beyond knowing our class.”
“I am wondering, sir, what you would have done had you been in his place?”
“Well, I should in any case have made for Tamatave. The alternative would be the Seychelles but he would rightly assume that these will now be in our hands. He must have water before he does anything else. If he has troops on board, as I think very probable, his water shortage will be desperate. He can never risk being crippled in action while his water supplies are all but exhausted. As for his tactical alternatives, I should in his place be planning an attack; but I doubt very much whether he thinks as I do. He will defend himself, I believe, and with the Fidèle ahead of the Clorinde. If I engage the Clorinde the Fidèle will try to take up a raking position across our bows.”
“And good luck to her!” exclaimed Northmore. “We should teach them not to try that!”
“I think we might, Mr Northmore,” Delancey admitted, “but let us not underrate our opponents. That was Captain Pym’s mistake—or, anyway, his chief mistake—at Grand Port. We have been defeated once and we must not be defeated again. To ensure victory we need, above all, to improve our gunnery. We can do that in two ways. First, we shall have target practice for all first and second gun-captains, teaching them the need to aim and elevate correctly. Rapidity of fire is nothing if the shots all miss the target. Second, we shall mark out a half-circle round each gun and paint in the degrees. Gun-captains will then be trained to aim on a given bearing.”
“What purpose will that serve?” asked Topley.
“To help us fire when blind. If there is a dead calm or very light wind the space between two opponents must tend to fill with smoke. The point is reached—and I have known this—more especially at night—when everyone is firing into the void. But an officer in, say, the maintop, using a fixed compass dial, can take a bearing on the enemy’s main topmast, rising above the smoke, judge the distance, and send these figures down to the officer commanding the main battery. He will then order his gun-captains to aim on that bearing at a given elevation. I do not promise a perfect result from that method but we should do better than the other side.”
As from this day the gun-drill was relentless. A wooden target was suspended from a fore yard-arm stunsail boom and a cannon mounted on the quarter-deck. Practice continued until every first and second gun-captain could hit the target with two shots out of three. Later, an old cask with a small tricolour on a broomstick was hove overboard and the ship manoeuvred so as to put the target on the beam at musket-shot distance. Time was taken to see how long it took to hit the cask, the guns firing in succession. Once that time for this was reduced to something within a minute, practice was resumed against a cask at half-cannon-shot and finally at extreme range. No fewer than five gun-captains had by then been replaced, others being promoted and others again rewarded.
Some days later two casks were heaved overboard at four hundred yards interval. The frigate then bore up, sailed in a circle, and steered between the two casks with both batteries manned and in action. This was a tricky operation at best and had to be repeated six times before a good standard of accuracy could be achieved. Guns had so far been firing in succession but now the exercises involved the firing of broadsides, guns fired theoretically together. They were never in fact simultaneous and some officers considered that such a practice, if possible, would put too much strain on the ship’s timbers. So the volley was usually scattered, with a few seconds between the shots, which were sufficiently together even so to make the ship heel over. Accuracy might be reduced but the moral effect was, of course, the greater.
In the ordinary way Delancey was thought a humane captain, reluctant to punish, interested in his men’s welfare, but he seemed at this stage to have changed in character. He had become a martinet from whom it was almost impossible to gain a word of praise. He seemed to rage round the gun-deck, finding fault with everything and making it clear that no one’s best was good enough. “The old man was never like this before,” said Topley to Northmore in a confidential tone of voice. “We can none of us do anything right.”
“Can’t you understand?” snapped Northmore. “We are soon to be in action with the odds against us. It is not enough to be good—we have to be exceptional. The captain hates losing men in action and blames himself afterwards for the few he has lost. So he gives us all hell now in the hope of saving bloodshed later on. The best way to save your own men’s lives is to blow your opponent out of the water, and that, by God, is what he means to do.”
This explanation of Delancey’s conduct was soon shown to be correct. Two days before the frigate would sight Madagascar, provided the wind held, Delancey ceased to rage and began to praise. “Well done!” he said to the gun-crews. “This is the best frigate in her class and we have the best crew this side of the Cape!” All was now sweetness and light—provided that there were no mistakes—and men basked in a new atmosphere of encouragement. For the French they now felt a measure of pity, as for men who would never know what had hit them. Delancey’s aim was now to give them encouragement, show them that they were bound to win. Sailors’ memories are short and they soon forgot all they had been through, taking a new pride in being the invincible crew of a crack frigate, the best of her class. What chance had the enemy, even with two frigates? The Minerva was a ship that could beat the world. So satisfied was the captain that he cancelled all further drills and gave the men what amounted to a day’s rest, no more being done than the essential working of the ship. There was time for skylarking and a little ceremony when a prize was given to the best gun’s crew of all.
Delancey had his officers to dinner and told them that the worst was over and that the training was always more arduous than the battle. Towards sunset the officer of the watch was hailed from the masthead, “Sail on the larboard bow!” Telescopes were levelled and a tiny patch of white was glimpsed for a moment in the light of the setting sun. It was gone again as the sun neared the horizon but Ledingham, as acting lieutenant, reported to Delancey that the enemy should be in sight at daybreak. He found the captain writing at his desk and somewhat preoccupied. He merely nodded when given the news, going on to sign what he had written and sprinkle it with sand. Looking up with a smile, he said:
“Thank you, Mr Ledingham. You did well to tell me and you have come at exactly the right moment. I shall want you and another officer to witness my Will . . .”