The boom of a cannon and the splash of a shot just ahead of the Dorset showed only too clearly the intentions of the French. Now Merriman knew for certain that the third ship was the enemy. He made his decision.
“We’ll pass close astern of Dorset then round up to put ourselves between the two of them. Be ready with your gun crews Mr. Laing, we may get the chance to give the French a broadside.”
There was a hail from Larkin at the masthead. “Deck, The Frenchie’s turning away Sir, she must ‘ave seen us.”
“Damn and blast them, we may not be able to bring our broadside to bear now. Mr. Laing, have the gunner stand by his toys forr-ard.”
Nearer and nearer they came to the Dorset until it seemed as though they would collide with her quarterdeck. There was Captain Knox frantically waving his one arm and the alarm on the faces of the passengers was clearly visible.
“Ease a point – hold it, hold it” growled Merriman to the seamen at the wheel; mentally juggling the various factors at work, the courses the ships were steering, the force of wind and its effect on each ship. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his officers and seamen waiting for his order. He waited a moment or two longer, then “Now” he roared, “Helm down.”
Aphrodite seemed to spin on the spot as she turned under the stern of the Dorset, close enough to toss a coin across it seemed and then she was round and as the seamen hauled madly on the braces and sheets she steadied, close hauled, on a course heading directly for the French ship.
Merriman was aware of cheers from the Dorset as they swept past and he raised his hat in acknowledgement. The French ship was now heading away with all sail set and even without his glass Merriman could read the name on her stern --- La Sirene.
“Mr. Hodges, fire as you bear.” The gunner, crouched behind and between the two twenty five pounders raised his arm in response, waited until Aphrodite rose to a wave then tugged the lanyards. Both guns belched fire and smoke. One shot splashed into the water close alongside the Frenchman but the other smashed through the stern window in a cloud of splinters, but without visibly impairing the ship’s sailing abilities.
“Well done Mr. Hodges, keep at it” called Merriman. The gun crews reloaded the guns as fast as they could. Hodges bent over, briefly sighted and fired both of them again. Both balls splashed into the sea just astern of La Sirene and the next salvo was no better. Hodges turned to the quarterdeck, “Sorry Sir, she’s out of range of these guns Sir.”
It was true, the other ship was gaining ground quickly whilst Aphrodite was still building up her speed after being slowed by the turn. Merriman looked up at the straining canvas, every sail that could be set was set. He pounded his fist on the rail in frustration.
“Damn it! How do the French shipwrights manage to build faster ships than our English shipyards?”
He raised his telescope as he saw a man on the stern of the French ship waving his hat. The glass clearly revealed a tall man dressed in black with a deep scar on his left cheek. He wore a cloak and carried a long sword at his side. “I wonder if that’s the Moreau the French officer mentioned” mused Merriman. As though the man had heard, he made an elaborate bow and waved his hand in farewell.
Merriman became aware of Midshipman Oakley trying to attract his attention. “Yes, what?”
“Signal from Dorset Sir, reads – break off chase and stay by me to Dublin. Then it spells out Viceroy Sir.”
“Very well Mr. Oakley, acknowledge that.” Merriman again pounded his hand on the rail, accepting that the other ship would make it’s escape. A touch faster and his ship would have caught La Sirene he was sure; but he dare not disobey a direct order from the Viceroy. “Mr. Laing, reduce sail and take up station astern and upwind of the Dorset.” He watched unhappily as La Sirene, now well ahead, turned and headed to the south.
Moreau cursed his luck. Just when he thought the capture of the Dorset was certain, a lookout had sighted the English warship hidden by the sails of the Dorset. It was no part of his plan to risk an open engagement with a warship at this time, even a small one so closely matched to the power of La Sirene. Because of the other part of his plan, he was forced to turn tail and run like a coward. The damned English must have known about the plan to capture the Dorset or else someone had talked when the cutter was re-taken. But then again it may just be coincidence, because the warship must have been despatched by the Admiralty weeks ago to be here at this moment. So maybe nobody had betrayed him.
Although he had successfully planted a chain of agents in Ireland and England, the plan hatched between himself and Gaillard in Paris was finished. There was no chance of surprising and capturing Lord Westmorland now. If he had not been betrayed then his plan to take the graphite would not have been compromised. And it was his own plan of which Paris knew nothing. He had hoped to return to France to report a successful outcome to Monsieur Gaillard and to add on the delivery of a cargo of graphite which France desperately needed. The value of the captured ship and such a cargo would, at a stroke make him wealthy and establish him with the Revolutionary Committee as a daring and resourceful agent.
Well, forget the cutter and its Irish crew, he would have the graphite anyway. All he had to do was meet the smugglers in the fishing boat off the Cumberland coast and together they could attack the warehouse. The graphite would have to be loaded aboard La Sirene. Moreau paced angrily up and down the deck thinking furiously. He stopped suddenly. The spy at the Poacher’s Rest! He must have heard all and managed to pass on the information to a colleague before he was killed. That would explain it . Therefore he could expect the English to know all about the scheme to take the graphite. The warship had gone to Ireland, maybe they had sent the cutter to forestall the raid on the warehouse. Perhaps he could evade the warship and still find a way to seize the graphite and so save part of the plan.
He turned to the ship’s captain. “Capitaine, turn the ship about . We must make for the rendezvous immediatement.”
Chapter 26: The Viceroy delivered to Dublin
The two ships anchored close to each other in the harbour at Dublin and in answer to a signal from the Dorset, Merriman had himself rowed across to the Viceroy’s ship. Captain Knox met him as he boarded and shook his hand vigorously.
“Damn fine ship handling Lieutenant, thought at first you were going to ram me for sure, but no, your turn was judged to a hair, never seen a finer piece of seamanship in all my years at sea Sir, never. Now come below, the Viceroy and his companions are waiting to see you. Must warn you though, he’s in a bad temper.”
The Viceroy, Lord Westmorland, proved to be an elderly man of medium height, rather portly and of irascible disposition, who opened his attack before Merriman was halfway through the cabin door.
“What do you think you are doing Sir, risking the lives of my friends and myself with your hare-brained scheme to catch a pirate who might, just might be involved in some mad plot to seize our persons. Knox here tells me you believe the French are involved. Now then Sir, explain yourself before I send a report to the Admiralty about irresponsible young officers acting above their authority.” He paused to draw breath and Merriman took the opportunity to reply.
“My Lord I shall be pleased to tell you more of this affair, my authority and the reasons behind my actions, but only to you.” He looked pointedly round the cabin at the other passengers who were staring at him as if he was some peculiar specimen.
“By God Lieutenant, this passes belief. Do you know who these people are? Members of Parliament, prominent men of affairs in Ireland and all of us have been meeting with Mr. Pitt himself. Out with it man, tell us what this is all about.”
“No my Lord . I cannot until we are alone.”
“This is affrontery of the worst kind. Your story had better be good enough to explain your behavior or I’ll see to it that you never command a King’s ship again. Captain Knox, what do you know of this man?”
“My Lord, I can only say that I believe you should hear him out and
in private as he requests.”
The Viceroy glared at Knox and then at Merriman before turning to the other passengers. “I’m sorry Gentlemen, but if you would be kind enough to leave us.”
Once they were alone Lord Westmorland seemed to relax a little. He leaned back his chair and said “Now Lieutenant, what have you to say that cannot be said before my friends?”
Merriman launched into the account of all that had happened since the pirating of the Revenue cutter, his summons to the Admiralty, his authority derived from no less a person than the Prime Minister and the Admiralty, the information that had come to his ears concerning the plot to capture the Viceroy himself and the other passengers, the recapture of the cutter and the certainty that the ship which had tried to stop the Dorset was French. He made no mention of Lord Stevenage or Mr Grahame, merely referring to government agents with whom he was in contact and their understanding of the plotting between the French and the Irish rebels.
During this recital of events the Viceroy’s attitude changed from anger to understanding of the situation. “But tell me Lieutenant, why could you not tell me all this in the presence of my friends?”
“Because my Lord there must be a spy close to, or a member of your party. Consider Sir, for the French ship to be in a position to intercept this ship they must have known of your movements. A messenger must have left London even before you did, to make contact with the French ship to warn them of your departure time. They know how long it would take for you to reach Parkgate and set sail for Ireland and could then make a very good estimate of where you would be at any given time.”
“My God, what a plan. But for you and your actions we could even now be prisoners of the rebels with little hope of life as Mr. Pitt could not possibly accede to their demands. Lieutenant, I apologize for my earlier attitude, it’s clear to me that you are an officer of great ability and my report will say as much. Have you anything more to add?”
“Yes Sir, two things. First, I have no real idea who in your company may be a traitor but it is thought in London that somebody of the Quality is involved. May I ask what you know of Sir William Forrester’s movements over the past week?”
“Sir William? Do you suspect him? Well, he only came back to join my party a few days ago. He tells me that he has been up in the north of England for the past week or two so I think you are barking up the wrong tree there.”
“It’s possible My Lord, but it is certain that he was travelling back from Ireland only a week ago and I know that he is consorting with people who are definitely involved with Irish rebels and the French. May I suggest that you give that thought some consideration Sir?”
“Indeed you may,” said Westmorland thoughtfully, “I’ll keep an eye on him. And the other?”
“The French prisoners Sir. The Irish I captured are in Colonel White’s custody here in Dublin, to be tried for murder and piracy and doubtless they will hang. They are rebels anyway and should hang for that alone. I have a French officer and several seamen in irons aboard my ship. I would not like them to share the same fate because they dared not disobey orders. As war with France now seems imminent could they not be considered early prisoners of war?” Merriman made no mention of the man Anton O’Flynn whom he determined to press into his own ship’s company.
“Very well Commander, you are very persuasive, Send them ashore and I’ll see to it that they are treated as such.. However, you must return to give evidence at the trial of the rebels.”
“Thank you my Lord, and now with your permission I should like to get back to sea and find Lieutenant Jeavons and his crew.”
“Certainly Commander and may I say it is a pleasure to know a man of action instead of the sycophants and self-seekers with whom I am usually surrounded.” His eyes twinkled as he gripped Merriman’s hand. “When we all thought our two ships would collide before you turned under our stern to intercept the Frenchman I’d not felt such excitement for years. Poor Knox was beside himself with anxiety, oh yes you were Captain, you can’t deny it.”
Knox grinned at Merriman, “I admit I was worried at the time , but as I said before, it was a fine piece of seamanship.”
Back aboard his own ship Merriman was in a fever of impatience to find Lieutenant Jeavons and hear what had happened to that part of his plan. Nevertheless he found time to send Lieutenant Benedict and his men ashore under guard after telling them that they would not be executed but would be held as prisoners of war.
As Aphrodite left the lights of Dublin behind and encountered the first swells of the Irish sea, Merriman looked up at the sky. Occasional glimpses of the moon could be seen above but heavier cloud could also be seen coming from the north-east. He paced up and down for a few moments before addressing his officers, Lieutenant Laing and the Master.
Gentlemen, we must find the Pilote. If Mr. Jeavons has succeeded in taking the fishing boat, he will set a course to pass south of the Isle of Man to meet us. You will oblige me by taking Aphrodite on a course to where we may expect to encounter them. The weather will be against us and visibility may be so bad we may not even see her, therefore Mr. Laing, you will have extra lookouts placed.
“One other point Gentlemen, the French ship La Sirene was heading south when we last saw her. They may not realize that we know of their plan to seize the graphite, so I wouldn’t be surprised to find that she has changed course to try to meet the fishing boat off Ravenglass. If so, Pilote will be in danger. It will be near dawn when we approach that area so I’ll have the ship prepared for action earlier than usual, guns will be loaded but not run out. Oh, and have the cook give the men an early breakfast at their posts. Meanwhile I’ll be asleep in my cabin, call me immediately there is anything to report.”
In his cabin, Merriman called for his servant Peters to bring him something hot to eat and seated himself at the table, cursing the last order he had given to Mr. Laing. In his wish to appear to be the unmoved and iron nerved captain he had only succeeded in tying himself to his cabin. Gloomily he picked at the fat pork fried in breadcrumbs which was placed before him, until he realized he was hungry whereupon he ate the lot, with a toddy to follow which Peters brought from the galley wrapped in cloth to keep it hot.
Later, as he lay in his cot fully dressed except for his coat and shoes, and not expecting to sleep, his mind wandered over the events of the last few days and the orders he had given. Had he thought of everything? Would they find La Sirene? Had Jeavons managed to capture the smugglers? How was Mr. Grahame recovering? Was Helen nursing the man? That thought set his mind racing in another direction. Helen, was she really attracted to him or was he imagining it from a blush and a faint hand squeeze?
He pondered the problem, perhaps when this affair was resolved he would have the opportunity to see her again, perhaps they might ------ maybe she would ----- ?
The next thing he knew he was being shaken awake. It was Peters, “Captain Sir, Mr. Laing’s compliments and it’s almost dawn and they have sighted a ship and would you come on deck Sir.”
Chapter 27: Terrible weather and the search for Sirene
It was a bitterly cold, gloomy morning with wet snow, almost rain, falling almost horizontally due to the high wind, but John Jeavons was feeling mightily pleased with himself as he walked up and down the area known as the quarterdeck although it was but a small section of the maindeck of the Pilote. The entire expedition to capture the raiding party of smugglers had worked like a charm. The fishing boat had appeared shortly before midnight, displayed the signal and he had replied correctly. As the boat came alongside, the smugglers were shocked to receive a blast of cannon shot over their heads and instead of a crew of French and Irish they saw a line of marines with muskets. They had no chance to resist and dropped their weapons immediately when the cheering seamen and marines poured onto the boat’s deck.
There had been no casualties on either side and now the smugglers were fastened down in the hold of their own vessel with a guard of marines to keep them there. Jeavon
s strode to the taffrail to look again at his prize, small though it was. The boat was following astern with Mr.Andrews and a few seamen to sail her. An added bonus to his success was the cargo of casks found in the fishing boat’s hold which the smugglers told him were full of graphite. Couldn’t be better he told himself, there might be a bit of prize money out of that night’s work. And he rubbed his hands with glee. Now all there was to be done was to sail for Dublin and hope to meet the Aphrodite on the way, although with the poor visibility they could easily miss one another.
Aboard Aphrodite, on deck, bundled up in a scarf and his oilskin coat and with his hat crammed tightly down to his ears, Merriman found the weather to have become worse. It was snowing heavily, but the strong wind blew the snow into flurries which almost totally masked visibility which the feeble light of dawn did little to improve. The snow had formed a blanket over the deck and covered the masts and spars with a coat of white. He could see the figures of men trying to keep the flintlock firing mechanisms of the guns and the tubs of slow match clear of snow and Laing and most of the men he could see looked like snowmen and were looking out to starboard.
“What is it Mr.Laing?”
“Can’t say for sure Sir. Man at the maintop said he saw what looked like a ship on the starboard beam but the weather closed in and he didn’t see it again .”
“Very well Mr.Laing, have the guns run out quietly, then we’ll turn a point or two to starboard, see if we can find her. If it is the French ship we will attack immediately so be prepared to take in the courses.”
The courses, the big lower sails, obscured vision and were always susceptible to fire from a glowing wad from the enemy guns. For these reasons they were usually furled before close quarter action.
A Certain Threat (The Merriman Chronicles Book 1) Page 22
