THE ENEMY ships were duly sighted at daybreak, almost a day’s run from the coast of Madagascar.
“Will they have seen us, sir?” asked Lewis.
“They should have seen us first,” replied Topley, “silhouetted against the sunrise. They will not have seen us last night and we had only a glimpse of them.”
“When shall we catch up with them?”
“By this evening at this rate but I fancy they will back their topsails and give battle. They have no hope now of watering before the action and they would most likely prefer to fight in daylight.”
“Why, sir?”
“A night action favours the better-disciplined crew.”
“And that, sir, we certainly are! We have been taught to do it right! But how do we know that they have not been as well trained?”
“The Clorinde is a fairly new frigate, straight from her home port, and has never been in battle. She was sent out to reinforce the French squadron at Mauritius. She finds Port Louis in our hands, her campaign over before it has begun. Morale will be low from a sense of wasted effort. As against that, they have two fully manned frigates to our one. They will also suppose that we are depleted and worn out after years in the Indies. And that is where they will be wrong. Through having a clever captain we are very well manned indeed—with three more men at the last moment! I doubted at first whether those men embarked at Mauritius would be any good. They were sulky when first allowed on deck but changed their attitude after the sulkiest of them had received a dozen lashes. They have worked well since then.”
The French were soon seen to have backed their topsails but the wind was light and it took the whole morning to come up with them. Delancey sent his crew to dinner rather ahead of time and did not clear for action until after they had finished their grog. The wind was north-easterly as was to be expected at the time of year, the day was fine, and the sun was hot. The French frigates seemed to be in very good order, the Fidèle in the lead as Delancey had expected. The Minerva was on a course which would overtake them to windward. Delancey sent for his officers and told them what he planned to do:
“I shall attack their leading ship at an oblique angle without replying to the Clorinde’s first broadside. At about a cable’s distance we shall fire our larboard guns into the Fidèle’s rigging with bar-shot, chain-shot, and langridge. My hope is that we can then pass ahead of the Fidèle and manoeuvre so as to fire our starboard battery into her from a position athwart her hawse, using ordinary shot and firing low. With the Fidèle crippled, we can then deal with the Clorinde. To your stations, gentlemen—and good luck! Mr Northmore, beat to quarters!”
With the drum beating to the rhythm of “Hearts of Oak” the seamen ran to their guns, the marines fell in on the quarter-deck, the powder-monkeys hurried to the magazine, and the marksmen climbed to the fighting tops. When the drum stopped beating there was complete silence save for the creaking of ropes and the occasional flap of the sails. From the French ships came the distant sound of a band playing “La Marseillaise” followed by the noise of cheering. Delancey made his round of the gun-deck, having a word with each gun-captain and saying something to encourage those of the youngsters who looked most scared. “Speed is no good,” he repeated, “without accurate aim.”—“Every shot must find its mark. Don’t shoot for the sake of making a noise.”—“Wait for the order to fire.”—“Remember the drill—if you make a mistake you can burst the gun, killing yourself and your mates.”—“Do it fast but do it right!”—“You can’t hide from the enemy’s fire, so kill them and their fire will cease!” He was glad to see that the men were cheerful and confident, more certain of victory than he was. Now he was back on the quarter-deck, attended by the master and young Lewis as A.D.C. There was perhaps a quarter of an hour to go before the action would be joined. Watching the French, Delancey told himself that the probable climax of his career had been reached. Over the next few hours his reputation would be made or ruined. About him were the officers and men who might pay with their lives for any mistake he might make; and mistakes, God knew, were possible enough. How long had it been, however, since he went to sea! A lifetime ago he had been a captain’s clerk, then a midshipman, and gained his commission at the Siege of Gibraltar. He had at one time commanded a revenue cutter, later a privateer, then a sloop. For years he had been learning his trade and now he was going to be put to the test. Good luck—and a little cunning—had placed him in command of a fast and powerful frigate. More luck and cunning had given him a sufficient crew and gunpowder to spare for practice. And now the moment was coming, had nearly come, when he and his men would be put to the proof.
The Minerva was on course for a point just ahead of the Fidèle. As she closed the distance the Clorinde fired a first shot so as to try the range. It fell short, as Delancey knew it would, and there was silence for another few minutes. Then, as he watched tensely, Delancey saw the whole position alter. Following some previously concerted plan, the Fidèle changed course slightly and backed her topsails. The effect was to place her to leeward of the Clorinde, practically on her larboard beam, and she made sail again as soon as the manoeuvre was complete. The Clorinde was thus between the Minerva and the Fidèle and Delancey’s opening move had been thwarted. Or had it? On second thoughts, Delancey considered that the French move had been a mistake. The line abreast was a bad formation, as they would soon realize.
“We’ll hold our present course, Mr Ragley, and attempt to cross the Clorinde’s hawse at about a cable’s distance.”
“We could go closer than that, sir.”
“I know, but I need a longer range to allow the canister to spread. Hold it as she goes. Mr Lewis, my compliments to Mr Topley and ask him to reload after discharge with the same type of ammunition. After firing at the Clorinde’s rigging I mean to give the Fidèle the same treatment.”
As Lewis ran off the Clorinde fired her broadside and it was at once obvious that her gunnery was quite creditable. The Minerva reeled slightly under the impact of a dozen hits, a boat being smashed amidships and several men wounded at one of the forward guns. Having done the drill a score of times the gun’s crew renumbered and the second gun-captain took the place of the first, who had been wounded.
Delancey ignored the Clorinde and held his course, with the range shortening and the French guns firing with greater effect. A second broadside did far more damage, dismounting Number Seven Gun and wounding the foremast, causing five more casualties and tearing holes in the foretopsail. Delancey had decided upon this plan of holding his fire but he wondered now whether he was right to ask it of his men. Not being under fire, the French were aiming as at target practice . . . He could not change his mind now but he would be in trouble if a mast went. The chances were against it and the risk was one he could accept . . . but disaster might strike at any minute. He might himself be killed, if it came to that.
The French fired their third broadside, the Clorinde momentarily enveloped in smoke and the Minerva was now hit repeatedly, with another gun dismounted and a fire started—but quickly extinguished—at the break of the forecastle. Sails were hanging in tatters, several marines had been wounded, and a quartermaster killed at the helm. It was at this moment that the captain of the Clorinde perceived his mistake. With the Minerva heading to cross his bows, he would ordinarily have given the order to wear ship so as to confront the Minerva with his broadside, but to wear, in the present situation, would bring the Clorinde into collision with the Fidèle. If he tried to tack, on the other hand, he would be raked by the Minerva and separated from his consort. After one more broadside, the most damaging of any yet, the Minerva was clear of the enemy’s arc of fire.
From the quarter-deck Delancey could see the Frenchmen clearly and wondered what their senior captain meant to do. And now the Minerva was crossing the Clorinde’s bows. Each gun fired in turn with high elevation, sending a storm of iron through the Clorinde’s rigging. Canister ripped through her sails, whirling chain-shot cut through ropes, and bar-shot chipped her spars and boom. Hardly any reply was possible and the British gunners did not waste a shot. In that raking position each projectile had a triple chance of doing damage, the shot which missed the foremast could still hit the main or the mizen. Unlike the Clorinde the Fidèle had space to wear and was now attempting to do so but the Minerva was crossing her bows before she could alter course. A storm of iron ripped through her sails and rigging and a further broadside followed before she was able to reply. Almost at the same instant the Clorinde, from a rather greater distance, poured her broadside into the Minerva’s stern. There was serious damage between decks, with a number of men killed and wounded. Mr Ragley fell at Delancey’s side and was taken below, his place being taken by the boatswain. The marine sergeant was killed and a gun put out of action in the starboard battery.
The Minerva and Fidèle were now sailing away from the Clorinde, which ceased fire in order to wear ship, but the Minerva soon drew ahead of her opponent, allowing Delancey to cross the Fidèle’s bows again and fire once more into her rigging. Persistence now achieved the desired result, the Fidèle losing her foretopmast. As the Fidèle turned away the Minerva engaged her, broadside to broadside, and Delancey had, for the time being, placed the Fidèle between the Minerva and the Clorinde. His gunners now fired round shot and fired low. Results were immediate and the Fidèle’s mizenmast went over the side. As the Clorinde approached, Delancey broke off the engagement and drew away, hoping that the Clorinde would follow. But the captain of the Clorinde was no fool. He hove-to on the windward side of the crippled Fidèle, evidently resolved that his two ships must stay together.
Delancey now made a quick round of the ship, making much the same speech to different groups of sailors and marines:
“Listen, men. There are two enemy ships and we have crippled the smaller of them. It cost us lives and men wounded but it couldn’t be helped. The damage we have done to the smaller frigate should prevent her escaping while we deal with the other one. It also makes it difficult for her to go to the other’s help. So we shall attack again now before they have time to finish their knots and splices. Fire quickly but make every shot go home!”
Renewing the engagement, Delancey placed the Minerva against the Clorinde, broadside to broadside at a cable’s distance, thus ensuring that the one frigate would mask the fire of the other. All hell broke loose in an instant as the two batteries thundered. The two ships were sufficiently near to each other for Delancey to distinguish the captain of the Clorinde, who seemed to be an active officer, hurrying round to encourage his gunners and making warlike gestures with a drawn sword. Delancey’s own sword remained in its sheath and he wondered for a moment why portraits of admirals so often showed them posed, sword in hand, against a background of furious carronade. Why draw sword against opponents seen to be a quarter of a mile distant? Putting the thought from him, he turned to watch what damage his guns were doing. They were firing steadily into the Clorinde and seldom going wide or over. He could see the splinters fly from a gun-port, a quarter-gallery smashed in, an empty port where a gun had been, a trail of smoke from some part of the forecastle. The Minerva, however, was taking punishment too and the Clorinde was adding musketry to the volume of her fire, although at too great a distance to be effective. It certainly looked, though, as if some infantry were added to her normal complement. Some of her cannon were firing wild and high and it might be guessed that her gun crews were forgetting the drill. Other guns were firing well, for all that, and the damage was mounting. One shot smashed the cabin skylight, sending a splinter into the boatswain’s thigh. The boatswain was sent below, his place being taken by John Cumner, boatswain’s mate, and Delancey wondered how many men had already been lost. More to the point, what sign was there of the Fidèle?
“Mr Lewis—take a telescope to the mizen-top and tell me where that other frigate is—you should be able to see her topmast above the smoke.” The midshipman was back in a flash, with a report that she was moving slowly and was now on the Clorinde’s larboard bow.
“Well done, Mr Lewis. She means to take up a raking position—but I have a mind to give her an unpleasant surprise! Mr Cumner, make more sail! Set the topgallants and forecourse!”
The opponents had so far been in the normal order of fighting under topsails, mizen, and jib, and the effect of the additional canvas was to make the Minerva draw ahead of the Clorinde. There was wild cheering from the French side and the sound of cannon fire gradually died away. As the smoke slowly blew aside, the Minerva was seen to be heading for a position across the Fidèle’s bows. The breeze was becoming fitful, the movement on either side was slow, and the Fidèle could in the ordinary way have changed course so as to present her broadside to the Minerva. But her seamen were hampered by the damage to her rigging. They had cut away the tangled mizen but she was still difficult to handle and her head had only been pulled round by the efforts of her launch. The same boat, joined now by another, was now trying to undo the work it had done but there was no time for this effort to succeed. Worse, the two boats were both sunk by the Minerva’s bow-chasers, presenting the Fidèle with an impossible situation, her rescue attempts complicating her now feeble effort to avoid the coming enfilade.
There was a relative silence lasting two or three minutes and then the Minerva had gained her position and, on Delancey’s orders, backed her topsails and fired her broadside. There was no further aiming at the French ship’s rigging. The round shot swept along her decks from bow to stem and with terrible effect. For the second broadside all the guns were loaded with grapeshot. This was the more to be dreaded in that the French were desperately trying to bring their ship round, for which purpose her sail-trimmers were on deck. For the third broadside the guns were loaded again with round shot and the havoc wrought was beyond description. The Fidèle was a wreck but her colours were still flying and her efforts to come round were beginning to succeed. Very slowly and under a devastating fire, she was finally able to discharge her first broadside. It was a gallant effort, although the effect was ragged, and Delancey at once made sail again, quickly passing beyond her arc of fire. The rumble of artillery died away and the second phase of the battle was over.
Delancey now summoned his officers to the quarter-deck and asked for an approximate return of losses and damage. He had apparently lost thirty-seven men, killed and wounded, with five guns put out of action, and a wounded foremast which would hardly survive a stiff breeze. He could tell himself that his tactics had so far succeeded but the wind was dying away, giving little scope for further manoeuvre. After studying his opponents through the telescope, Delancey turned back to his officers.
“Well done, gentlemen. We have crippled both enemy frigates and neither can escape. We have now to finish them off. The smaller ship, the Fidèle, is pretty well shot to pieces. The Clorinde, however, is still formidable, and especially so at close quarters. With so little wind we have little freedom of movement. Our tactics won us the first and second phases of the action but we shall have to win the third and last round by fighting. We must be prepared, moreover, to fight both broadsides. I shall try to sail between the enemy ships, breaking their line, but I shall probably end with one on either beam. Lack of wind may also allow the smoke to accumulate and leave us firing blind. We shall then adopt the practice we have rehearsed, firing on a bearing and at an elevation as directed from the maintop. One thing I want you to understand is this: it is my intention to bring both prizes into Portsmouth and nothing the French can do is going to stop me.”
There was a cheer from the men who had overheard this and the officers dispersed again to their quarters.
“Tack, Mr Cumner,” said Delancey, “and steer to engage the enemy from a cable’s length to windward.” Delancey could see that the French ships were again in line ahead but now on the opposite tack with the Clorinde leading so as to protect the Fidèle. The antagonists’ approach to each other was very slow and the course of the action was easy to foresee. As soon as the Minerva was fairly engaged with the Clorinde, the Fidèle would attempt to try to take up a raking position across the Minerva’s bows. To counter that, Delancey would try to sail between them. Their reply would be to bear up and he would then have one of them on either beam. To fight them both at once was something which Delancey had so far been careful to avoid but it could not be avoided for ever. He considered fighting the Fidèle first but concluded that he had to fight it out with the Clorinde sooner or later and might just as well choose the present moment. Morale would suffer if his men suspected him of being “shy.” He would fight both batteries and still had the men to do it. He made a round of the gun-deck, however, and told his men what they might have to do.
“It is not enough to be good,” he reminded them, “your gunnery has to be SUPERB!” “Don’t become excited and don’t throw your shot away!” “Let’s show these frogs how a battle should be fought!” “Do your duty, men, and we’ll have these damned Frenchmen for breakfast!” He felt that he was overacting the part of an operatic hero but the men seemed to respond, cheering him as he passed along the line of the guns. “We’ll most likely have the frogs on either beam. It’ll be hot work but the hotter the battle the sooner the finish. And then we are bound for home! For home, my lads, and to see all our girls again! For home in triumph, as a ship equal to any two ships on the other side! Make these Frenchmen wish they had stayed in port! See to it that they recognize our ensign when they see it again! Down with the Emperor and long live King George! Down with the tricolour and to hell with the French!”
Back near the wheel, Delancey explained to Cumner the opening move he had decided upon.
“We’ll try to sail between them and rake them both. We may not succeed but that will at least prevent the Fidèle from raking us. The wind is dying away to nothing. Suppose there is a dead calm and we are fighting with both batteries, could we find men enough to man the launch and tow the ship?”
“I think maybe we could, sir, if we let the lobster-backs replace the seamen on three of the guns. But then we should have no reply to the enemy’s musketry. Nor don’t I know whether the launch is undamaged—maybe it’s holed.”
“Mr Lewis,” said Delancey, “be so good as to ask the carpenter to report to me on the state of the ship’s boats.”
Very slowly the opponents were coming together again, all probably realizing that it must now be a fight to the finish. There were puffs of wind and minutes between during which the sails flapped idly. It seemed to be a case of drifting into battle. Delancey paced the deck with mounting impatience and Northmore, deserting his post for a few minutes, came to join him.
“Shall we use the bow-chasers, sir?”
“No, I think a silent approach has a more menacing effect. Some would say, moreover, that it might slow us down. Or is that an old wives’ tale?”
“I should have thought, sir, that the slowing down would be immaterial.”
“Heaven knows. The men seem in good heart, don’t they?”
“Your exhortations helped a lot, sir.”
“The worst is still to come. It is bad luck the French having troops on board. They must be double our number even now., But they won’t beat us, I think, in gunnery.”
“We were lucky there, sir—in having the powder to spare for practice.”
“Lucky? Ah, yes—most fortunate. We used about a year’s allowance in ten days. Which reminds me—we may end this fight at close range. See that the forecastle guns have grapeshot handy—I’ll give the same orders to the quarter-deck carronades.”
Lewis ran up to the captain, panting.
“The carpenter reports, sir, that the launch is almost undamaged. There is one hole and his mate is now patching it with sheet lead.”
“Thank you, Mr Lewis. What about the other boats?”
“The cutter’s smashed, sir, beyond repair. The others are all right.”
“Good. If we have a dead calm, Mr Northmore, as seems likely, we may need the boats to tow us out.”
Seeing that the enemy was almost within range, Northmore went back to his post forward and Delancey trained his telescope on the Clorinde. Traces of visible damage were slight and the frigate was being handled confidently. He could see little of the Fidèle but judged that she was further astern than was probably intended. He pointed this out to Cumner.
“I intend to engage the leading enemy ship from to windward but without shortening sail. I then mean to head for the gap between the two enemy frigates and will try to rake them both. They will bear up and we shall end with one on either beam, but not, I hope, within musket shot.”
At long last the opponents closed, the two bowsprits level with each other, a cable’s distance apart, and Delancey gave the order to open fire. The Minerva and Clorinde passed so slowly that the British seamen had fired three broadsides before they were ordered to cease fire. Then the helmsmen were given an order, the sail-trimmers sent to the ropes, and the Minerva altered course sharply to starboard, firing a broadside into the Clorinde’s stern. It should have been possible, in theory, to fire simultaneously into the Fidèle’s bows but the captain of that ship bore up too promptly, confronting the Minerva with his broadside. All hell broke loose again and now Delancey’s men had the enemy on either side of them. Gunfire had become continuous, with mounting damage and loss on either side. There was a complex drill for fighting with both batteries, one which compelled men to dash backwards and forwards between the guns on either side. It was perfectly feasible until men were killed or wounded, but this created difficulties which could only be resolved, in the end, by deserting some guns and redistributing their crews. The noise was, of course, shattering and men would be exhausted the sooner.
There was now a dead calm (caused by the firing, as old seamen maintained) and smoke was accumulating between the opposing ships. Watching the smoke clouds which were tending to blind his gunners, Delancey heard an almighty crash behind him and saw that the Minerva’s wheel had been shot away, both quartermasters killed and Cumner wounded, probably dying. There was a procedure for steering the ship after the wheel had gone but it was needless for the moment, in a dead calm. Two of the quarter-deck carronades went soon afterwards but there was no further damage and Delancey realized that the enemy gunners could no longer see their target. He promptly sent young Lewis to find the first lieutenant. “My compliments to Mr Northmore and ask him, from me, to take over gunnery control from the maintop. Inform Mr Topley and Mr Ledingham. Off with you—like lightning!”
When Northmore reached the maintop, with two attendant boys, he was almost above the smoke and could clearly make out the enemy topmasts. On either side of the platform there had been rigged up a sort of table on which had been painted a half-circle with its flat side outboard and marked out in degrees up to 180°. A peg was fixed at the half-circle’s centre and to this was attached a moving arm, like the hand of a clock, with a peg attached to the free end. When the two pegs were lined up on a target, the bearing could be read off and passed down to the battery on that side. When first tried the device was made with the flat side inboard, which had seemed more logical, but time was then lost in working out the reciprocal and so it had been changed about. In half a minute Northmore read off a bearing for the Clorinde’s main topmast, guessed a range of one cable, and sent a boy down to Topley with a written message. In another half-minute he took a bearing on the Fidèle’s main topmast, guessed a range of a cable and a half, and sent the other boy down with a message for Mr Ledingham. Delancey heard all firing cease while the gun-crews trained their cannon on the given bearing and at the estimated range. Then came Topley’s shout of “Starboard battery—fire!” followed by Stock’s shout from the larboard battery.
Delancey noted with grim satisfaction that the enemy’s shots were passing overhead or wide, their actual target clearly lost. Going down to the gun-deck, he decided to concentrate the fire a little. “Have your first three guns trained a little aft of the bearing you are given, your three after guns a little forward,” he said to Topley and again to Ledingham. Then he went back to the quarter-deck, noting that the smoke cloud was as thick as ever. Some fifteen minutes later a boy came with a message from Northmore: “Clorinde’s main topmast no longer visible, probably fallen I am taking bearings on foretopmast.” Five minutes later followed another message “Fidèle target lost,” and after that, “Clorinde target lost.”
“Continue to fire on previous bearing” was Delancey’s reply but he decided at the same time to shift his position. He was never one to waste powder and shot.
“Lower and man the launch!” was his next order, given to Forbes, another boatswain’s mate, and the boat was soon in the water. “Take command, Mr Lewis,” said Delancey, “and tow the frigate the way she is heading. When she has moved far enough we’ll cast off the hawser at this end.” The launch disappeared in the smoke, the hawser came taut, and Delancey was left to guess whether the ship was moving and to what distance. In the meanwhile, he gave orders to cease fire and was gratified to note that the enemy continued. After ten minutes he had the hawser cast off and saw the launch return and be hoisted inboard. Reporting back to his captain, young Lewis grinned delightedly:
“It would seem, sir, that the French frigates are firing at each other!”
“That is my hope, Mr Lewis, and I could only wish that their fire were more accurate. I suspect, however, that they are mostly firing into the ocean.”
It was soon evident that one frigate, almost certainly the Clorinde, had ceased fire and that all the noise was being made by the other. At the same time a light wind sprang up and the smoke began to disperse. It gradually thinned and then, suddenly, it was gone. As when a theatre curtain was raised, the battlefield was suddenly visible.
On the Minerva’s starboard quarter, under sail was the Clorinde. On the larboard quarter but half a mile distant was the Fidèle, with all her topmasts gone, a floating wreck with smoke still billowing from her last futile broadside. Blaming himself for his delay over this, Delancey bellowed the orders which would re-establish his control over the Minerva’s helm. It would be hauled either way by men using tackles in the steerage and receiving their orders through a chain of intermediaries. The system was set up in about three minutes, beating the time of all previous rehearsals, but it involved a sad waste of manpower.
Meanwhile the Clorinde was moving into the attack. It seemed at first to Delancey that her captain was merely trying to close the range, but he presently realized that he was steering too close for that. The French plan was evidently to board, relying on their infantry to tip the scale in a hand-to-hand conflict. But if the Clorinde was under way, so was the Minerva, the distance between them altering little if at all. Delancey’s first instinct was to meet the challenge by backing his topsails. If they cared to board they would soon wish they hadn’t! But wiser thoughts prevailed. The longer the chase continued, the more distant the Fidèle would be when the fight took place. He decided, therefore, to hold his course and hoist topgallants as if in flight. The Clorinde made more sail in response and Delancey went round the gun-deck to explain what was happening.
“Listen, lads, the French are astern of us and will presently try to board. Our first move will be to load every gun with grapeshot. When we have cleared their decks, we shall board them! So be ready for the order “Boarders away!” and at that we’ll board them in the smoke!” There were loud cheers at this speech, which was repeated at different places round the ship. Then Delancey returned to the quarter-deck where he had the marines drawn up as if to repel boarders. Only then, when the Fidèle was two miles away, did Delancey back topsails and allow the Clorinde to overtake him.
As the French ship came near, Delancey went through the motions of accepting a challenge to mortal and personal combat. Drawing his sword, he waved defiance and called for three cheers from his quarter-deck gunners, who waved cutlasses before returning to their carronades. As soon, however, as the Clorinde’s bowsprit approached the Minerva’s stern, he abruptly made sail again, altering course so as to frustrate any attempt at boarding. A minute later the Minerva’s guns fired almost together, sweeping the Clorinde’s decks with grapeshot. The French captain had foreseen this but his order for his men to lie down came just too late. His decks were covered by the wounded and dying and he lost all interest in the possibilities of hand-to-hand conflict. As if to taunt him, his opponent hove-to again, ready to meet his challenge. The French captain knew now what would happen if he renewed his attempt and rather doubted whether his men would respond again to any brave gesture. Uncertain what to do next, he passed the Minerva at fairly close range, firing and receiving a broadside and planning some further move the exact nature of which escaped him. Making sail again, Delancey steered for the French ship’s beam and shouted “Boarders away !” As he dashed for the forecastle the Minerva’s bowsprit crashed into the Clorinde just abaft her forechains, bringing her foremast down with the impact. The two ships were hooked together by a tangled confusion of spars and ropes and the Minerva’s bowsprit provided the necessary bridge.
“Follow me!” Delancey shouted as he sprang forward. Mr Stock and the boarding parties were after him in an instant, a torrent of men armed with boarding pikes, axes, and cutlasses. From the quarter-deck the marines provided covering fire and men in the foretop threw grenades. There was pandemonium as the fight surged around the Clorinde’s forecastle, the clash of steel mingling with cheers and groans. Delancey was not actually the first man to reach the enemy deck—two or three seamen had passed him and one of them had already been killed—but he killed one opponent with his pistol and severely wounded another with his sword. A third man who attacked him with a cutlass was foiled by the speed with which Delancey threw a pistol in his face. David Stock, on Delancey’s left, sent down a French petty officer with his cutlass. Tanner, at his captain’s side, wielded a boarding pike with great effect and suddenly, it seemed, the French were gone from the forecastle but collected in strength on the quarter-deck. The secret, as Delancey knew, was to prevent them finding time to reorganize.
“Follow me!” he shouted again and his men surged aft with a mingled noise of cheering and blasphemy. For the only time in his career as a navy captain, Delancey was suddenly possessed by the devil. He ran at the enemy, screaming with fury “Kill the French bastards!” Raging on, he killed a private soldier but failed to extract his sword. Grabbing a fallen boarding pike, he stormed on, hurling it at another soldier and then grabbing the man’s musket. He was now at the break of the quarter-deck, where he broke in a door with the butt and wounded a mess servant with the bayonet. For a few minutes he had literally gone berserk, creating a legend of ferocity his men were never to forget. Then he as quickly recovered his senses. He was in the main cabin of the French frigate, where the French captain was offering him his sword. Accepting it, he handed the weapon to Tanner and asked Northmore whether the French ensign had been lowered. This had apparently been done and the fight was over. “Drive the prisoners below decks,” he said to Northmore, “and put sentries on each hatchway. You are in command of this frigate. It remains now to deal with the other one.”
Back on board the Minerva, having left fifty sailors with Northmore, Delancey sent his other men back to their guns. Faithful as her name, the Fidèle had been loyally coming to the aid of her consort. She was now half a mile distant and could see the British ensign hoisted over the tricolour. Crippled as she was, escape for her was out of the question. But did her captain mean to make a fight of it? That query was soon answered. As soon as a gun was fired in her direction the Fidèle’s colours were lowered. The battle was over and Delancey ordered his crew to man the launch. “Mr Topley,” he said, “you are acting commander of the national frigate Fidèle. Take thirty men to board her and send her officers back to me. Mr Stock, you are acting first lieutenant of the Minerva. Mr Lewis, you are acting lieutenant in this frigate. Tell Forbes, someone, that he is acting boatswain . . .” He issued a stream of directions, attempting to produce order out of chaos.
That evening the three frigates were hove-to in close proximity while the final arrangements were made to proceed in company to the Cape. All French officers were brought on board the Minerva, most of the marines divided between the other ships. At Simonstown the bulk of the prisoners could be put ashore. In the meanwhile every precaution must be taken to prevent them rising against their captors; the first and obvious precaution being for the captured frigates to remain in company with the Minerva. On board the Minerva there would be no great problem over the French officers, who were likely to give their parole, but there was a nightmare shortage of navigators. With Stock, Ledingham, and Lewis, the Minerva had her theoretical quota but all had been midshipmen a few weeks or days ago. Ragley had died and there could be no proper replacement as master. Midshipmen he had none and the two prizes had just one officer apiece. The return passage was going to involve gross overwork for Delancey himself and an almost crushing responsibility for Northmore and Topley, who would scarcely be able to quit the deck until they reached Simonstown. Of all this Delancey was well aware but in the background to all his gloomier thoughts was his knowledge that he was on the way home. He would reach Portsmouth somehow and with two captured frigates in company. He would reach Guernsey and would be with his love once more. Would he ever go to sea again? He doubted it. For the first time in his life he felt that he had done enough.