by Chris Durbin
‘I hope you will be able to visit your home in Virginia; it would be a cruel stroke to be forced to sail right past without touching at Williamsburg. Lady Chiara, I’m sure, is eager to see your native land.’
Holbrooke finished with the usual salutation. He read the draft, made some corrections and sent Pritchard to make a fair copy for his signature.
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Having completed his letters, Holbrooke had the evening free. He was tempted to call for his coxswain to be rowed ashore. There was any number of coffee houses and respectable inns where sea officers gathered, and he felt that the company of others of his rank would shake off the blue devils that had assailed him since they came to anchor. But he knew that any attempt to break in upon a gathering of people whom he only half-knew would be disastrous; he just wasn’t that type of gregarious officer. He was happiest with a small group of close friends: Lynton, Fairview, Jackson, for example. But all of them had either gone ashore themselves or were required on board for duty, and he didn’t have enough sense of his own importance to intrude upon them. Then, of course, there was Chalmers, but something held him back.
His mind was whirring now with self-analysis. There was a vital piece of his life missing. He was the youngest commander in the navy, as far as he knew. He had wealth enough to withstand a prolonged period on half-pay if it should come to that, but he had no close friends except Carlisle and Chalmers, the one on the other side of the world, and the other was under his command. He thought wistfully of Ann, the girl that he’d met in Wickham at Christmas, but he knew that even had he wished to, he didn’t have the resolution to make contact, although he had the letter from her that he’d read half a dozen times, whenever he’d had a moment’s leisure. It was within arm’s reach now, locked in the drawer of his desk. He’d intended to reply, of course. But somehow hadn’t found the time, or the courage, or something, and now it was nearly three months since she wrote it. Not even a girl from a provincial town could believe that a return letter could take that long from a ship in home waters. She must have given him up long ago.
But something must be done; otherwise Holbrooke could see himself becoming just another mad sea officer, friendless ashore and aloof afloat.
‘Serviteur, would you ask Mister Chalmers if he’s at leisure for a game of chess? And perhaps, if he’s available, you could lay out supper for two?’
‘Very well, sir, and the steward of La Bonne Chance gave me a case of Madeira that looks as though it could be ready to be drunk; should I open a bottle?’
Now how on earth did Serviteur persuade a French privateer’s steward to part with a case of Madeira, which must itself have been looted from a British prize as the French didn’t drink it? And how did he know that it was just the thing for the two of them to drink, in memory of old ships? And why, oh why, did Serviteur’s use of language that was only appropriate between gentlemen sound so natural when he used it? Very well indeed. Holbrooke shook his head, partly through incomprehension and partly to chase away his depression before Chalmers arrived. He realised now how desperately he wanted his friend to join him this evening.
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Night was falling as Serviteur laid out a supper for Holbrooke and Chalmers. They’d started a game of chess, but in fact, they were too bound up in conversation to really do it justice.
‘How strange,’ said Chalmers, ‘that a naval operation should have so much field artillery involved in it. It started with the three guns drawn by their assorted menagerie at Knock, then the guns in the pink that so startled Lynton. Then the guns that the French encumbered themselves with for their withdrawal, which must certainly have led to them being overtaken and their boats captured.’
‘Yes,’ replied Holbrooke. ‘If they’d left their guns behind, they’d have left earlier and been beyond our reach. But that appears to be against the military code.’
‘And finally,’ added Chalmers, ‘the curious incident of the colonel’s gun. I hesitate to tell that tale to anyone who wasn’t there for fear of being laughed out of the room.’
Silence again, and a few desultory moves on the chessboard. Holbrooke could tell, from his air of detachment, that Chalmers had some advice to give.
‘So, you don’t believe that your efforts at Emden and your capture of La Bonne Chance – what an inappropriate name for such an unlucky ship – will sufficiently recommend you to their Lordship?’
‘I fear not,’ replied Holbrooke. ‘The events at Emden will be – actually have been – reported to the Admiralty by Mister Holmes, and he’s at liberty to mention Kestrel’s part in it, or not, as he chooses. I could see that he was irritated that I had taken so much upon myself and my guess is that he’ll choose to gloss over our part. However, the capture of a privateer has been reported directly by me to the Admiralty, in the absence of the commodore. But taking privateers is the daily business of sloops-of-war and is not regarded as remarkable. I’d need to capture half a dozen before my deeds were noticed.’
‘But of course, you have time on your side, because aren’t you the youngest commander on the list? Sure, there’ll be many more privateers to come.’
Holbrooke shook his head. ‘I’ve been in command of Kestrel over four months now. In general, we commanders don’t get much more than a year to prove our worth, not in wartime. Time is slipping by and although it’s strange to say it, my age doesn’t help. If their Lordships are even aware of it, they’ll see it as a risk. No, I need to get away from Portsmouth as soon as possible and sail under Admiralty orders, where I can’t be ignored.’
Chalmers looked carefully at his friend.
‘As a churchman, I suppose that I shouldn’t be influenced by signs and portents, they smack of heathenish beliefs. However, I had convinced myself that the high tide that swept you to the anchorage in sight of Emden was, in fact, Holbrooke’s Tide. I regret that I was wrong.’
‘If Holmes had arrived a day or two later it would have been my tide,’ replied Holbrooke. ‘If he’d sailed into the estuary to find the city evacuated by the French and Austrians, and a naval party from Kestrel ashore with Treganoc in command, he couldn’t possibly have ignored me in his dispatches.’
They sat in silence for a moment. Chalmers moved his queen.
‘Checkmate,’ he said softly and immediately regretted it, even though he’d been avoiding this finale for the last seven moves.
‘A fitting end to the evening,’ said Holbrooke. ‘I believe I’ll turn in now if you don’t mind.’
‘Just let me leave you with this thought,’ said Chalmers. ‘Captain Carlisle quoted from Julius Caesar to encourage you, and I’ve spent some time thinking on that. I hope you won’t take it amiss if I say that you tend to undervalue yourself, both professionally and socially. I know little of the Admiralty, but I can’t believe that they’re such blockheads as to fail to notice your talent.’
Chalmers was watching his man with care; how far should he push him?
‘The same goes for your social life. Whatever you think of yourself, your natural humanity and your shining achievements must make you a valuable guest almost anywhere in the land.’
He stood and moved towards the door.
‘As a friend, I hope you’ll think on what I’ve said. If you catch it at the flood, your tide will carry you to fortune. And that flood tide, my friend, is now.’
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Holbrooke watched Chalmers leave the cabin, noticing the way the door stuck slightly in the jamb as it was pulled shut. He stared blank-eyed out of the stern windows as Serviteur cleared away the supper dishes and he was still there as the sounds in the scullery died away. Eight bells sounded. Midnight, the start of the graveyard watch. He heard the soft sounds as men shuffled across the deck above his head. As though he’d been waiting for this signal, he reached into the desk drawer, took out Ann’s letter and held it carefully between thumb and forefinger, watching the light of the candle reflected through the thin paper, the gesture of a man about to commit a
n inconvenient manuscript to the flames. But he didn’t. He laid down the letter on his desk, smoothing away the creases, then he took out paper, ink and quill. With a determined gesture of his forearm and a pull at his cuff, he started to write.
‘Mister Martin Featherstone
Bere Forest House
The Square
Wickham
Dear sir, I trust that you remember me. I had the honour of meeting you at Rookesbury House on Christmas day last. I am writing in the hope of securing your permission that I may call on your daughter Ann…’
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Epilogue
The War in Early 1758
By 1758 Britain’s early defeats of the war had been left behind and the navy and army, and Britain’s allies, were on the offensive.
In Germany, Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick succeeded the disgraced Duke of Cumberland in command of the British-funded Hanoverian Army of Observation. George II, as Elector of Hanover, repudiated the disastrous Convention of Klosterzeven and Ferdinand immediately took a risk on a winter campaign to force the French out of Hanover. By the spring Ferdinand’s offensive was largely successful, and the French were pushed back beyond the Rhine; Hanover was saved, for now.
In the Eastern Atlantic, Pitt’s strategy of raids on the French coat – intended to take pressure off both Hanover and North America – was starting to pay off. Descents on the Basque Roads and St. Malo in the early part of the year forced the French planners to retain troops on the country’s western shore that could otherwise have been deployed into Germany or Canada.
Meanwhile, Pitt’s strategy for North America was starting to take shape with preparations for a three-pronged attack on Fort Carillon, Fort Duquesne and Louisbourg. This was intended to pave the way for the ultimate prize of Quebec, and mastery of the whole of Upper Canada.
In the Mediterranean, a French naval force that was sent from Toulon to reinforce Louisbourg was attacked off Cartagena with the loss of three capital ships, including Foudroyant, de la Galissonière’s flagship at Minorca in 1756. Foudroyant was captured by Monmouth, Captain Gardiner, who had been Byng’s flag-captain at Minorca. In taking the huge French flagship, Gardiner wiped out the personal disgrace that he’d felt ever since the defeat off Minorca in May 1756, but at the cost of his own life, as he was killed in the fighting. Later in the year the French commander, de la Clue, made one more effort to break out of the Middle Sea and then abandoned Louisbourg to its fate.
By early 1758, de Kersaint having departed for France, there was no significant French naval presence in the West Indies. This left Admiral Cotes free to concentrate his own forces on protecting British trade from privateers and attacking French commerce, to the ruination of Louis XV’s finances. There was no thought of conquest of the French sugar islands yet; that would come in the next year.
In the East Indies, Admiral Watson had been succeeded by Admiral Pocock, but the strategy was still essentially defensive: to maintain a British squadron at parity with the French. Pocock fought an indecisive battle against d’Aché in April and on land the French made some advances, taking Cuddalore and Fort St. David. It was a precarious position, but so far Pitt’s strategy of containment was working.
In West Africa, in a purely naval expedition, a squadron under Commodore Marsh took Fort Louis in Senegal. However, his force was too weak to take the French island of Gorée ninety miles further south, that would have to wait for another expedition later in the year.
Britain was by now fighting a truly global war, the first in history, and it was sea power, wielded by the strategic genius of Pitt and Anson, that was making it possible.
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The Right Flank of the Army
The capture of Emden by a small British naval force under Commodore Charles Holmes is a historical fact, albeit one little known today. It’s chiefly remembered by historians because it was the impetus for the deployment of the first British force to be committed to Europe in the Seven Years War.
When he was told of the capture of Emden, Pitt recognised the importance immediately; it’s probable that he’d already decided what action he’d take if it did fall to British forces. If the French had continued to hold the city, its safe harbour could have been used as a resupply base for their army when they had absorbed the first vigour of Prince Ferdinand’s winter offensive. However, held by the British, it secured Ferdinand’s right flank and became even more useful as a supply base for the allies than it would have been for the French, because Britain controlled the North Sea to a degree that France never achieved. Britain could thus assure the safe passage of its supply ships to Emden.
Pitt acted quickly and sent a battalion of the fifty-first regiment of foot to garrison the city. This battalion had previously been part of the force that had been embarked for the abortive raid on Rochefort in September of the previous year. The fifty-first was a regular line regiment; it was relieved in Emden by garrison troops in August 1758 and stayed on the continent to join the new British contingent of Prince Frederick’s army in Germany that was deployed later in 1758.
Until the fall of Emden, there had been no British forces committed to the war in Europe. The Duke of Cumberland, who commanded only Hanoverians and a few Prussians, was recalled in disgrace after the convention of Klosterzeven in September 1757. This disastrous treaty effectively abandoned Hanover to the French, giving them a valuable bargaining chip for the return of their captured colonies – and potentially even Canada – when the war should end. Hanover was George II’s personal fiefdom, held independently from the crown of Great Britain, and he valued it enormously. Prince Ferdinand of Prussia was appointed in the Duke’s place, but that left no British presence on the continent. The fall of Emden gave Pitt the opportunity to deploy a regular British battalion to Europe without committing an army, and to demonstrate his determination to re-take Hanover.
The capture of Emden is merely a footnote to history, but it played an important part in the strategy for the war in western Europe. It may not have been our fictional George Holbrooke who – metaphorically speaking – parked his artillery on the French governor’s lawn, but it was someone very like him.
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Other Carlisle & Holbrooke Naval Adventures
Book 1: The Colonial Post-Captain
Captain Carlisle of His Britannic Majesty’s frigate Fury hails from Virginia, a loyal colony of the British Crown. In 1756, as the clouds of war gather in Europe, Fury is ordered to Toulon to investigate a French naval and military build-up.
While battling the winter weather, Carlisle must also juggle with delicate diplomatic issues in this period of phoney war and contend with an increasingly belligerent French frigate.
And then there is the beautiful Chiara Angelini, pursued across the Mediterranean by a Tunisian corsair who appears determined to abduct her, yet strangely reluctant to shed blood.
Carlisle and his young master’s mate, George Holbrooke, are witnesses to the inconclusive sea-battle which leads to the loss of Minorca. They engage in a thrilling and bloody encounter with the French frigate and a final confrontation with the enigmatic corsair.
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Book 2: The Leeward Islands Squadron
In late 1756, as the British government collapses in the aftermath of the loss of Minorca and the country and navy are thrown into political chaos, a small force of ships is sent to the West Indies to reinforce the Leeward Islands Squadron.
Captain Edward Carlisle, a native of Virginia, and his first lieutenant George Holbrooke are fresh from the Mediterranean and their capture of a powerful French man-of-war. Their new frigate Medina has orders to join a squadron commanded by a terminally ill commodore. Their mission: a near-suicidal assault on a strong Caribbean island fortress. Carlisle must confront the challenges of higher command as he leads the squadron back into battle to accomplish the Admiralty’s orders.
Join Carlisle and Holbrooke as they attack shore fortifications, engage in ship-on-ship duels and
deal with mutiny in the West Indies.
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Book 3: The Jamaica Station
It is 1757, and the British navy is regrouping from a slow start to the seven years war.
A Spanish colonial governor and his family are pursued through the Caribbean by a pair of mysterious ships from the Dutch island of St. Eustatius. The British frigate Medina rescues the governor from his hurricane-wrecked ship, leading Captain Edward Carlisle and his first lieutenant George Holbrooke into a web of intrigue and half-truths. Are the Dutchmen operating under a letter of marque or are they pirates, and why are they hunting the Spaniard? Only the diplomatic skills of Carlisle’s aristocratic wife, Lady Chiara, can solve the puzzle.
When Carlisle is injured, the young Holbrooke must grow up quickly. Under his leadership, Medina takes part in a one-sided battle with the French that will influence a young Horatio Nelson to choose the navy as a career.
